#I was going to put this on ao3 but it didn’t seem long enough

[middleearthpixie]

I'll See You in My Dreams ~ Chapter One

Summary: Noelle James knows soul mates exist, the trouble is, she just can’t seem to find hers. Especially since hers seemed to have existed only in the world of cinema and The Hobbit movies. No one believes she actually spent time in Tolkien’s Middle Earth and even fewer believe Thorin Oakenshield existed in her world, either. 

So when she finds herself unexpectedly alone on yet another Christmas, she has no way of knowing exactly what the universe has in store for her this time.The trouble is, this man claiming to be Thorin can’t possibly be him, for he died at the hands of Azog the Defiler at Ravenhill. She saw him die with her own eyes.

So, it can’t be him.

Or can it?

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Noelle James

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.2k

Read on AO3

New Jersey, present day

The pond was frozen. 

Of course, everything was frozen. All the weathermen kept going on about was how cold December had been. Far colder than it had been for years. A white Christmas was not only hinted at, but practically guaranteed by those talking heads. Sure enough. By December twenty-third, there was at least six inches of fresh powder blanketing all but the furthest points south in New Jersey and it had been snowing on and off since Christmas Eve.

Normally, Noelle loved Christmas. Especially white Christmases, which happened about as often as total solar eclipses. Which was to say, they happened next to never. The last one she recalled was three years ago, and it reminded her very much like this one.

She would spend it alone, licking her wounds from yet another breakup.

Of course, to be fair, unlike three years ago, Rich didn't cheat on her. There were no suddenly cancelled plans that resulted in a late night phone call and a confession about screwing a coworker. 

No, this was, for all intents and purposes, a civil, grown up, mature breakup. She couldn’t even fault him, really. His fatal flaw?

He wished to get married and she didn’t.

That was it. 

They’d broken up in person, in a café in Paris, of all places. She’d flown out to visit him, excited to see him after a long time apart (his work took him all over the globe and he kept some terrible hours as well) but something happened when she’d arrived. Actually, it was more like after a few days in France. It’d begun wonderfully, every bit as romantic as in any movie—they didn't even get any sleep her first night there, as they were far too busy christening every flat surface in his hotel suite. 

But, then something went wrong. Something Noelle couldn’t put her finger on, but it definitely sent their relationship on a collision course with disaster. It seemed that with each passing minute, things soured a bit more. They didn't fight. There were no accusations or jealousy or anything. It just felt… wrong.

It all came to a head on her last night in France, when over coffee at that sidewalk cafe, she returned the absolutely stunning two-carat, princess cut engagement ring to an equally stunned Rich, telling him she didn't know why, but she’d changed her mind about getting married. She couldn’t explain it. She just knew she wasn't ready. 

But he must have felt the same, for there were no pleas to work on their relationship, no suggestion that perhaps if he cut back on work (which she would never ask him to do anyway, not at this point in his career) or maybe if they just postponed their wedding date, it would all work out.

No, there was none of that. A hint of confusion swirled in his brilliant blue eyes, but he’d nodded and ran his hand though his spiky hair, which had been mostly black when they’d met, was now highlight with streaks of silver. It suited him, though. She often told him so.

But not that night. That night, her eyes stung and her throat squeezed shut as he’d murmured, “You’re probably right, Noe. I think I’ve felt it as well and was just too scared to say anything, that if I didn’t, it would simply go away. But, still, thank you for being honest with me.”

“Of course.” She’d reached across the table to cover his long-fingered hand with hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He’d met her gaze once more, a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. “I will miss you, you know. Who else will tell me when my American accent needs work?”

“Hire a better dialect coach than the one you’d had,” she’d managed, “and you’ll be fine.”

He’d nodded, drew in a deep breath, and then let it out as he said, “Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” She reached for her purse and stood, then came around to his side of the table to bend and pressed a light kiss into his soft hair. “Take care of you, too, Rich.”

And that was that. It ended not with a crash. Not with a bang. But with only a soft whisper.

She lived in New York, in a high-rise luxury apartment building on Duane Street. Her public relations firm had grown by leaps and bounds in the last three years—with her opening offices in Los Angeles and Miami—and she could now afford the penthouse in her building if she so desired, but she loved her cozy space and had no desire to move. Not even to the penthouse above her. That cozy space was hers.

But, once she’d returned to New York, she found being in the apartment left her restless, with interrupted sleep. When she did manage to fall into a sound sleep, it was only to be plagued by strange dreams that made no sense. She began to consider buying that penthouse, and finally told her realtor that she’d changed her mind and negotiations were underway. 

However, the holiday season slowed everything to a crawl and when her mother invited her to spend her birthday (December twenty-third) and Christmas in her childhood home, the pull of nostalgia proved too powerful to ignore.

So there she was, out by the pond upon which she’d ice skated as a child, watching the snow fall and trying not to think about how damn cold it was. 

“Noe, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mom!” Noelle tried to force a cheer she didn't feel into her voice as her mother, Diane crunched through the powder toward her.

“You don't look fine.” 

“Well, I am.”

Pulling her colorful knit shawl more tightly about her, Diane made a clicking noise with her tongue, then after a brief hesitation, said, “Why didn't you call him back?”

“He was just calling to wish me a Merry Christmas, Mom. We’re not getting back together.”

“But he called you. On your birthday. Maybe he—”

“Mom,” Noelle shook her head, still staring out at the pond’s mirror-like surface, “he doesn’t want to get back together, either. We agreed it was best for both of us. So, even if I talked to him, it wouldn’t change anything. Now, I know you loved the idea of a movie star son-in-law, but I’m not marrying him. He’s okay with it. I’m okay with it. You have to get okay with it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” A hint of hurt wove through her voice. “I just feel that you left it unfinished. How do you get closure that way?”

“It wasn't unfinished. I gave him his ring back. It does’t really get any more finished than that. Trust me, closure is not needed in this instance.”

“He sent us a Christmas card, you know. It came in the mail last week.”

Noelle tried to ignore the hopeful notes that crept into her mother’s voice, tried to fight down her rising annoyance. Her mother meant well, but Noelle was starting to wish she’d remained in New York. “He’s not a jerk, Mom. But, he’s also not going to be my husband. Now, can we please not talk about him any more.”

“Of course. I’m sorry to pry.”

“I know and I—I don’t mean to be so bitchy about it.” Noelle looked over at her mother, feeling a pang of guilt at her mother’s expression. Diane meant well. She always did. And she wasn't the sort of mother who kept asking when Noelle would get married or give her grandchildren or anything like that. In fact, she rarely even asked if Noelle was dating, and if she was dating, her mother never once asked if they had ever discussed marriage. 

Which was why Noelle thought she’d disappointed her even more. 

“Can I ask what happened?”

Noelle sighed, shaking her head. “We just wanted different things is all. And really, his work is as important to him as mine is to me and neither of us would want to give it up.”

There was no reason to tell Diane about the dreams. Or about the emptiness she felt when she awoke from them and found Rich asleep beside her instead of the man in those dreams. A man who’d existed, but only to her when all was said and done.

“Well, don’t stay out here too long.”

“I won’t.” 

Diane crunched her way back toward the large white house where Noelle had spent a wonderful childhood, and with a soft sigh, Noelle turned back to the pond. It reminded her of one of her favorite places in Central Park. 

Well, it had been one of them. Now? Now she winced at the memory. She rarely went to Central Park any longer. 

“Don't think about it,” she whispered even as her eyes stung. “Don’t think about him.”

The wind stirred then, the tree branches above her rustling although they bore no leaves at this point. It seemed the woods were speaking to her, almost taunting her as she tried to forget the one man who’d been forever imprinted upon her mind and her body. The one man she’d loved completely and wholly and unlike any other man she’d ever been with.

The one man who no one in her world could remember.

The one man who’d finally remembered her when she’d found her way into his world.

The one man who’d died in her arms.

My soul will find yours. 

She had allowed herself to believe Rich was just that soul in a different body. For a while, she had believed it wholeheartedly. But then, over these past few months, doubt crept in as the dreams began. She was a fool to think souls could find one another. Dead was dead, whether in her world or another. No matter how badly she wished to believe it, Rich was not Thorin. Thorin was gone and was not coming back.

The sky was almost purple, and the first stars twinkled against the growing darkness. The wind blew harder now, almost whistling through those naked branches stretching overhead like skeleton arms reaching into the growing twilight. Perhaps her ears and mind collaborated to play tricks on her, but she’d swear she heard the trees whispering something to her. 

Something that sounded very much like, “Thorin is here.”

But trees didn't talk, except for the creepy ones in The Wizard of OZ, and so Noelle ignored it as she turned to make her way back toward the house. 

Thorin’s eyes snapped open as if someone had shouted his name in his ear. He lay flat on his back, staring up at a late afternoon sky gone hazy dark grey, and snowflakes swirled about him in all direction to muffle all sound.

Except for the soft rush of water than came from somewhere in the distance to his left. The river, no doubt. Thank Mahal. The song that had plagued him had gone silent now, left him in peace up on Ravenhill. He need only get to his feet and get back into the warmth of Erebor. 

But something wasn’t right.

As he lay there, snow settling in his hair, his beard, on his clothes, he realized that he heard more than that simply rush of water. The sounds reaching his ears weren’t familiar, but he had the feeling he’d heard them before. In a dream, perhaps? Was that even possible?

He sat up slowly, shaking the snow from his beard as he twisted to look first to his left, than his right. The river was gone. The black and grey stone fortress of Ravenhill was gone. In their place, he saw a frozen-over pond and what looked like a low castle of grayish white stone.

“Sounds like Belvedere Castle. You probably came through in Central Park.”

The voice speaking those words was no longer low and raspy, but instead feminine—silky and throaty and while it was as unfamiliar as his surroundings, he knew he’d heard it before.

“Mahal,” he muttered, drawing the backs of his fingers along the left side of his jaw, “is this even possible?” 

As he sat there, he became very much aware of the dampness seeping into his heavy woolen trousers, so he slowly got to his feet. Once upright, he slowly looked about. Central Park. He knew this place, even if his memory of it was rather fuzzy. 

There was a pond. Turtle Pond. A magical place with a strange name. And beyond that, Belvedere Castle.

His heart sped up as the memories slowly returned. He’d been here before. More than once. And it was in this realm that he’d found her.

He smiled, his heart giving a strange leap, one he hadn’t felt in a lifetime. 

Noelle.

Her name simply rose in his memory. 

Noelle.

Beautiful Noelle, with her fall of wildly tousled red curls and eyes that were a perfect blend of sea and sky, becoming more of one than the other, depending on her mood. 

How could he have possibly forgotten her?

Mahal must have hidden her until the time was right, until the time came where he was meant to find her again. That’s why he’d fallen back into Central Park. To find his Noelle. 

He smiled. 

She was here. He wasn't exactly certain where she was, but he knew he’d find her, just as he’d found her the first time. 

With that, he started down the pathway, just as he’d done before. As he walked, the sounds of water faded and the sounds of machines he didn't quite understand grew louder. The lights grew brighter.

The memories, so slow at first, rushed forward to flood his mind with images that had him moving even faster now. His boots thudded dully on first tarmac, then sidewalk, as he left Central Park (he knew it was Central Park now) behind him.

But, the machines on the far side of the concrete gave him pause. He remembered the yellow ones were called cabs, but he didn't know if that meant all yellow carriages, so he paused near the corner of a building that towered so high above him, he bent over almost backward in an attempt to see the top. Not even Erebor or Ravenhill came close to soaring as high as the buildings in this strange city did. That he knew for certain.

He peered at the yellow carriages whizzing by, their wheels sending up slushy spray at those unlucky enough to be too close to the roadside. Although there was no chance of any hitting him, Thorin stepped closer to the building just the same. He tried not to draw too much attention to himself from the throngs of people hurrying past him. After all, none of them had a sword that he could see. 

From his spot near the building, he watched how other people manage to get a carriage to stop for them. It took little more than putting a hand up, and one of the yellow conveyances drew to a stop alongside the sidewalk. Simple enough. 

The last time he was in this city, he remembered being in one of the carriages. With Noelle. She gave her residence as being on Duane Street. Like the building in whose shadow he stood, that building also rose toward the heavens, higher than any other buildings he’d ever seen. 

The trouble was, he had no idea where Duane Street was in relation to where he stood. That meant he’d have to try his luck in convincing one of those cabs to stop for him.

With that, he pushed away from the building, moving toward the road as if it was something he’d done all the time. Snow swirled in all directions beneath the streetlights, and when he held up a hand, it took all of about thirty seconds for a coach to stop for him.

He tugged open the back door, as he’d seen Noelle do, and winced at the blast of heat that nearly knocked him back a step. Still, he carefully sank into the cracked vinyl seat and said, “Duane Street.”

“Do you have a number?”

“No.”

“You wanna take Eleventh Ave or Seventh to get there?”

“Whichever is quickest.”

“This time of day? Six of one, half dozen of the other, pal. Which one you wanna go?”

Thorin scowled. “Seventh, then.”

“You got it.”

And with that, they were off. The driver seemed to pay no heed to all of the horns around him, but wove in and out of traffic as if he was the only one on the road. Thorin held his breath with each honk, closing his eyes as he silently asked Mahal to watch over him, for it seemed to him the driver had a bit of a death wish. It was difficult to remember was his last cab ride had been like here. He had been concentrating far more on how Noelle’s thigh pressed up against his every time they took a turn, and that was far more pleasant than this ride. 

But finally, the cab abruptly pulled to the side. “That’ll be twenty one-fifty, mister.”

Thorin hesitated. He had no money from this world on his person. But, he had something he hoped would be considered just as valuable.

“I’ve none of your bills,” he began, holding out a small, golden coin, “but I think this might suffice.”

The driver stared at the coin. “Are you serious?”

“Take it. I think you’ll be pleased.”

“What kind of game you playin’, man?”

“I play no games. Trust me, that is pure gold. Feel it.” Thorin waited for him to hold out his hand, then dumped the coin into the driver’s palm, sighing back his smile at the way the man’s eyes went wide. 

He didn't wait for the driver to say anything, but pushed the door open and emerged from the cab into the night air that seemed even chillier after nearly forty minutes in the overheated vehicle. Apparently the driver didn't mind being paid in gold, for as soon as Thorin shoved the door closed, the vehicle’s tires squealed as he pulled away from the curb to disappear into the thickening grayness until only the red dots of the lights on the cab's rear were visible.

Unfortunately, as he looked around, Thorin realized he recognized nothing. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time he had to hunt to find a residence. He’d gotten lost twice in the Shire looking for Bilbo Baggins’ house, and that was nothing compared to the time he and his company had gotten lost in Mirkwood. 

So, with that, he began walking. With neither sun nor stars to guide him, he had no idea what direction he moved. Still, he kept moving until finally, he saw something familiar. 

Actually, no. The building wasn’t at all familiar to his eyes. 

But to his heart? That was another story. He didn't have to recognize to know he’d found the right place.

The building doorman smiled as Thorin tugged open one of the heavy smoked glass doors and stepped into the lobby. “Good evening, sir. How may I help you?”

Thorin drew in a deep breath as he attempted to quell the hundreds of butterflies that had suddenly let loose in his belly. “I’m here to see Miss James.”

“Is she expecting you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” 

The doorman’s smile faded. “I see. Very well. Who should I tell her is calling?”

“Tell her it’s Thorin.”

A thin grey eyebrow arched. “Thorin?”

“She will know me.”

“Very well.  I’ll let Miss James know you’re here, Mr. … Thorin.”

“I thank you.” 

He stepped back as the doorman lifted something to his ear. “Miss James, you have a visitor.”

The doorman’s eyes narrowed as they fell on Thorin once more. “He says his name is Thorin.” Those pale grey eyes, almost the same shade as his eyebrows, narrowed. “Yes, of course.”

He set down the device. “Miss James will be down in a moment. You may have a seat over there, if you wish.”

Thorin turned toward the dark brown leather chairs on the opposite side of the lobby. “Thank you.”

He didn't trouble to tell the doorman that he’d find it impossible to sit. Instead, he crossed to those chairs and just paced, painfully aware of the way the doorman’s eyes seemed to follow him constantly. 

A chime echoed along the building’s marble and chrome interior and at the far end of the corridor, two silver doors slid open and for a moment, Thorin was convinced he’d stepped into one of his dreams. 

Three years had passed since he last laid eyes upon Noelle and he chided himself on how he could have possibly forgotten how beautiful she truly was. His eyes stung with unexpected tears as she strode toward him, and he wondered if this was how she felt when she’d come to him in his world, when she’d nearly knocked him off his feet by leaping unexpectedly into his arms.

Then a hint of a knot twisted in his gut. Something was wrong. Noelle didn't smile as she approached him. In fact, she looked almost angry, her lips in a thin, narrow line, her brows pulled low with a furrow between them.

“Who are you?” Anger smoked her words about their edges as she stormed up to him.

This was definitely not the greeting he’d expected and without thinking, he took a step back. “What do you mean, who am I?”

“I mean just that. Who are you, because if this supposed to be some sort of prank or something, it’s not funny at all.”

Her voice, heated as it was, was also exactly as he remembered. Husky. Rich. Almost velvety in its smoothness. “A prank? I don’t understand. It’s me, Noelle.”

“How do you know my name?”

He frowned. Had she forgotten him? Had Mahal hidden him from her as she’d been hidden from him for all this time? Holding out one hand, he tried to catch hers. “It’s me, Noelle,” he repeated, his throat tightening as she jerked back from him. “Thorin.”

“No.” She shook her head, her mane of dark red curls bouncing violently. “No, you are not him. Now, what kind of game are you playing with me, because,” she gestured with small device she held in her left hand, “I’ve already pulled up 911 and if you think I won’t hit send, you’re nuts. Now, tell me who the fuck you are!” 

“Noelle, I assure you, I play no games. It’s me, Tho—” 

He didn't get the chance to finish, as she drew back and hit him, her fist slamming into his jaw with enough force that he stumbled back. “Fuck you,” she snarled, her voice breaking. “I don't know who you are or what you’re about, but Thorin is dead. I saw him die. I held him as it happened and if this is Ian’s idea of a joke, I’ll punch him when I see him next. So, fuck off and leave me alone!”

Before he could say a word, she spun away from him. “Mr. Jeffries, if this man is not gone in two minutes, call the police and do not let him convince you I know him.”

Mr. Jeffries looked as shocked as Thorin felt, but nodded just the same. “Yes, Miss James.”

She stormed off without a backwards look and as Thorin turned toward the doorman, it was to see him reaching for the same device he’d used to alert Noelle to his presence.

“Mr. Jeffries,” Thorin moved closer to the man’s desk, still rubbing his jaw, “when Miss James calms down some, please tell her that I am alive and well and will find some way to prove it to her.”

A thin grey brow rose again. “I think it best if took your leave now. I should hate to have to have you arrested.”

Thorin agreed, he’d hate to find himself arrested, and that was the only reason he didn't demand to be let up to her flat. 

But that didn't mean he was giving up, for he wasn’t. It wasn't in his nature to surrender so easily and so he forced himself to smile at Mr. Jeffries.

“I’m taking my leave now. But, please tell her that.” Thorin cast a last glance over his shoulder at the silver doors, now closing on Noelle’s furious figure and sighed. He hadn’t thought he might not be able to convince her that he didn’t actually die on the ice floe at Ravenhill. He’d been fairly certain that she’d be relieved to see that not only hadn’t he died there, but that he’d managed to find his way back to her, that she’d be as overjoyed at seeing him as he was at seeing her. 

A serious miscalculation, it seemed. 

A very serious miscalculation.

Still, he’d find a way to convince Noelle he was alive and well and had come back for her. He just needed a little help, is all.

Since Mr. Jeffries was still holding his device and still giving him the side eye, Thorin left the apartment lobby to venture back out into the cold and snow. 

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @fizzyxcustard @xxbyimm @kibleedibleedoo

@lathalea @legolasbadass @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being  @notlostgnome

@myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @ruthoakenshield 

@quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits

@heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @night-ace

@lyl1pad @mistresskayla-blog1 @kmc1989   @rachel1959 @sketch-mer-6195

@sherala007 @enchantzz  @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @enchantingkryptoniteheart-blog 

@louk419

MNote: In the coming weeks, I will be cleaning up my tag list, so if you'd like to continue to be tagged, please let me know. Otherwise, I'll assume you're no longer interested in receiving these notifications and will take you off the list. Thanks!

[norry-yippee]

Wings - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 835

Good and bad, a lingering question in everything he did. Thomas Hobbes said that men are wicked and selfish from birth.

He doesn’t believe that, he chooses not to.

Children are brought into this world crying, not fighting. We do not fight our way into this world, we push.

It is the world that makes us cruel, the abuse we live in. However one may define abuse. It could be a hit to your face, or disregard from a parent.

It’s the world that teaches us we can not cry, that we must fight.

Regulus believed he was born wicked, till he met James. Sweet merciful James, the sun warming his skin.

It was James who built his wings, brought him to the sky, away from the fire on the ground, he is who held it up.

Even after years of mistreatment, James still held his own, even without wings.

Regulus remembers a story his father told him, possibly to induce fear, possibly to build strength(his father did always say never to trust another man, it only leads to failure). He told the story of Cleopatra, a beautiful woman who, when stricken with boredom, would stick golden pins in the breast of her slave woman.

Regulus isn’t sure if this is true, his father did tell him not to put his trust in another. Contradicting.

Regulus remembers after the telling of this story his father got up and retrieved three pins of silver from his desk, sticking them in his back and not allowing him to remove them for a quarter of an hour. Regulus can remember the slow stream of blood dripping on the floor, he remembers the sound of the blood hitting the floor. It relaxed him, making the pins less painful, till his father scolded him once more, oh how his muscles tensed, pulling the pins further into his skin.

“I’m so sorry,” James had said when Regulus told him the story.

“Why do you apologize? My father was just teaching me obedience, and you did not stick the pins in my back.” The room was dark, Regulus could feel the draft from the window brush his face, and James’ hand stroke his.

“I know, but no one should have to go through that, you didn’t do anything bad.” Regulus feels a tear fall from his eye, he lets it fall till it hits the pillow beneath his head.

“My father used to say I was born evil, he was teaching me how to use that to my advantage.”

“You were not born evil, you were an infant, they are sweet and pure, no matter the blood in their veins. You are no exception, Regulus. Just as beautiful and wide eyed as your brother.”

“James…” Regulus whispers, unsure what to say.

“You were a child, nothing more.”

“That is possibly the kindest thing anyone’s said to me.”

“Kind?” James sits up.

“Kind.” Regulus nods.

It was James who brought him to a home, it was the Potters who taught him there was still love in life. That he was able to live in life.

He still waits at night for a strong gust of wind to knock him from James’ grip, for him to plummet to the ground. He sees his head hitting the hard surface of water, fish swim around him, avoiding his tattered body.

A priest prays at his eulogy, naming him a martyr of love.

He will happily die a martyr, if it means feeling the earth of James for a single moment, before his wings melt.

Forthnaly, James did not build him wings, simply fought him to float. Some days James does the work, Regulus simply holds on. Some days Regulus does his best to execute what he was taught and stay up for the both, encouraging James to lean his weight against his own.

All of these feeling return to him as he sits alone in his new home, 1,000 kilometres from his childhood home. The northern Italian air cleaner than what he was used to in Paris, less cramped he noticed, lighter.

He sits on the couch of the sitting room, James has left him for a couple of hours to retrieve things they will need for the week.

The windows are open, golden sunlight drifts through, he can see dust gliding around in the sunlight. The loose curtains swept in dance from the slow breeze. He can hear music playing from a home a few houses over, it's quiet but upbeat, like a walk in the city.

He is wearing a loose shirt, it’s a light pink and the cuffs are rolled up to his elbow. His jeans sit comfortably, and his hair is out of his face. He feels blissful, empty yet not in the way he was as a teenager.

He knows James will come home and fill the hallways with his loud voice and laughter.

If he should fall, on that day only pray, James doesn’t fall away from him.

[sanatomis]

⋆౨ৎ˚ ──── 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐒𝐄.

it's been on your mind for a while now. and, even though he's a little confused at first, it takes satoru very little time to warm up to your enticing offer.

დ content. fr3e use kink, cursing, female!reader, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, consensual somnophilia, deepthroating, cum-swallowing, mentions of satoru eating it from the back <3

დ notes. second attempt at posting this on tumblr, don't mind me. it's crossposted on ao3 bc my previous attempts at posting all failed miserably (it never showed in the tags ://)

Satoru is confused. It doesn’t take you much time to notice that your softly spoken words have him quite rattled, as the results of them can so clearly be observed on his face. There’s his nose that scrunches up cutely, and a little tilt of his head to the left which comes accompanied by a few snowy strands of hair shifting across his forehead. A small furrow of his brows, the soft gnawing on his bottom lip. He’s thinking about it; mulling over your offer. 

Three times, he tries to say something. His mouth opens once, twice, and it’s futile. Not a word escapes, and he takes a sharp intake of breath. You almost believe that, if you weren’t currently seated opposite him, he’d smack the side of his head a few times to make sure it’s still screwed on right. 

“So, I just. . .” The third time really is the charm, it seems. Though, he never quite manages to finish what he was going to say. 

“Just put it in, yeah.” 

You finish it for him, you’re sweet like that. It does really seem as if he could use the help.

“Wh—whenever I. . .” 

There’s a little voice in your head, chiming and chattering about how all of this is weird. It makes you nervous, and your fingers itch to play with your necklace to fight it. 

“Whenever you want,” you confirm. It’s as if your heart has suddenly moved to your throat. 

“Wha—what if you’re asleep?”

“I said whenever you want, didn’t I?” 

He almost lets out a little squeak at the words you so casually give him. They surprise him, as they do you. Your last sentence wasn’t one spoken by your mind, and you shift in your seat as if it’d shush the part of you that did. 

It’s as if you’re telling him what you’d eaten for breakfast this morning, not giving him permission to slip, bully and sheat his cock into your needy cunt at any given time of the day. Without needing to ask, too. Satoru can fill you up, stuff you full, and dump so much of his cum into you until you’re overflowing, and he can do it whenever he feels the need to—because he’s Satoru, and you love your Satoru.

“Are you sure?” He asks, a hint of apprehension laces his voice. Your heart almost swells at his concern, at his hesitancy and need to confirm your wishes; even if you’ve vocalised them so bluntly. “Maybe, think about it for a little long—” 

“I have,” you interrupt him. As gentlemanly as he’s being, there’s no mistaking the darkening of his eyes. The pretty, baby-blues making way for something sinister. You suddenly don’t feel so nervous anymore. “I have thought about it. Way too much, and for way too long.” 

A string of curse words tumble past his lips. They’re hushed, and quick, and from the way he, too, shifts in his seat you gather that he’s hard. Painfully so, if the bulge forming in his pants is anything to go by. Your relationship has existed long enough for you to know that drops of his pre-cum are staining the fabric of his boxers already—always so messy, your Satoru. The mere thought has you wanting to take him out, to put him in your mouth and lap at the sticky, white beads falling down his length. 

“Please,” you plead softly, and watch how he stifles a groan at the needy, saccharine sound of it. You want more, more of that sound. Right next to your ear, preferably. “Use me, Satoru.” 

There’s little you want more than that, little that arouses you more than that. The thought of Satoru taking you whenever he wishes, abiding by his whims and allowing him free-reign over your body—it instils a heat into your stomach, into your core. It makes you feel filthy, like a cheap whore picked up from the street; but you’d be his whore, and suddenly it all starts to feel like a dream. It’s Satoru. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. He’ll be gentle, and he’ll be kind, and he’ll stop as soon as you utter your safeword, and he’ll love you so much, even if he fucks you as if he doesn’t. 

You have half a mind to ask him again, to plead, to beg for it again, as it almost feels as if he didn’t quite hear you. But, as soon as you open your mouth to do so, he immediately latches his lips onto yours. It’s messy, and sloppy, and entirely fueled by the frantic state his mind is currently in—but you don’t complain, and never will. 

His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, and you feel him almost buzzing with excitement. Your teeth clash against one another at the force of the kiss, your tongues greedily seek the other out, and saliva gets swapped from your mouth to his, and vice versa. It’s dirty, and sticky, and almost brings you back to your high-school years, when he’d been all clumsy hands and feigned confidence on the night you’d lost your virginity to each other. 

Satoru pulls back from your kiss first, and a small smile falls over his lips when he notices you chasing him. “Wait a minute, sweets,” he murmurs, forehead against yours. His breathing is heavy, as is yours, and you don’t want to wait a minute—you want him, now, tomorrow, and each day after that. “Are you. . .” He chuckles when you kiss him again, and again, and again. You only stop when he holds your head in place. “Are you completely sure about this?” 

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “Mhm,” you hum, and caress his cheekbone with one of your thumbs. Satoru melts in your hold, as he always seems to do. “‘S you, ‘Toru. I’m completely sure when it’s you.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. There’s a storm of emotion behind his eyes, but all of them point to the same conclusion—he loves you. So much, you might even get sick of it one day; he’d told you as a joke, one born out of fear. But you won’t. You never will. And you think he’s starting to realise it, finally. 

“Okay,” he whispers, and kisses your forehead. 

It’s delicate, and loving, and so opposite from the way he buries himself into you over, and over, and over again a mere five minutes after that. Satoru’s needy, and impatient, and so pent-up from your previous conversation that foreplay gets thrown out of the window. 

He bends you over the couch first, that cute little ass of yours jiggling right in front of his face as he mounts you from behind. He slips in easily, with a pussy as wet as yours, and a cock as leaky and hard as his—the lack of foreplay almost goes unnoticed. Almost, of course, as the sheer size of him never fails to elicit a hint of a burn as he stretches you out. Nevermind that you take his cock daily, or that your walls are bound to carry his shape after the many years you spend with him. 

The sounds that decorate your apartment are filthy, lewd, and borderline obscene, but you’re thoroughly obsessed with them. The slapping of his balls against your ass, the squelching with each passing thrust, the deep groans and choked whimpers Satoru releases next to your ear just like you wanted. Even your own moans, your own babbles, and your own whines add to the experience; the combination of sounds. And you love it, because it’s you, and it’s Satoru—and it’s the two of you together. 

It doesn’t end after Satoru cums, nor does it after you do. The agreement between the two of you that was made tonight seems to have done a number on him, and he takes you a second time. On the balcony, where he puts you on display for the world to see as he fills you over and over again. And a third time, in your shared bed that’s never been safe from his affection and blatant desire towards you. And a fourth time, in the shower that was initially meant to clean you up, he decides to dirty you even further. 

If this is the reaction he gives to the mere idea of using you whenever he pleases, you long for the time that he actually does.

It’s well past midnight when Satoru finally decides he’s done with you. You’re curled into his side, a shirt that’s way too large for you (but one that you swore you didn’t steal from him) covers your figure. You’re asleep. Tired, exhausted, and completely knocked out. He smiles. You’re so cute. A love-sick expression is stuck to his face, and it may very well become permanent if he stays looking at you. 

One of his fingers reaches in-between your thighs, gently scooping up the remnants of his release. Satoru almost coos at the way your nose scrunches up cutely when he starts to finger it back into your pussy. It allows his digits to slip easily through your folds, and she sucks them in as soon as he reaches your hole. His cum doesn’t leak out this time. Not yet, anyway, but even if it does, he’s more than willing to repeat the process. 

He sighs. Mind full of thoughts, but at least his balls are empty now. There’s a little huff escaping his lips, and he’s amused at his own comment. Satoru shakes his head, but the small smile remains nonetheless. Strong, yet gentle arms pull your body tighter against him. 

You’re delicate, and sweet, and so precious to him; and he will do his best to take care of you. Use me, use me, use me. He kisses your forehead, his own eyes falling shut. 

He will most certainly try to. 

The very first time Satoru entertains the idea of indulging in your offer, is on a day where you’ve decided to wear his favourite lipgloss. It’s so shiny, such a cute shade, and makes you look so beautiful, but above all—it’s sticky. It’s sticky, and easily smudged, and he knows from experience that everything feels so much filthier when he steals a kiss from you with it on. 

Without meaning to, thoughts of you wrapping those glossed lips around his dick, creating a mess made-up of spit, cum, tears, and thus that delightful stickiness from your lipgloss, enters his mind. The coloured shade will leave a perfect ring around his length, there’s no doubt in his mind. Your pretty face will be all dirty, smudged stains near the corners of your mouth courtesy of his fat cock. You will be a sight for sore eyes. 

You’re talking to him, but Satoru can’t seem to listen. He’s enamoured by your lips, your soft-looking, plumb, and very glossed lips. He briefly feels pathetic, knowing that a mere make-up item has the ability to make his head spin to such a degree—but he doesn’t, as he quickly realises it only does so because it’s you that’s wearing it. 

Fuck, he really wants to stuff his cock into your mouth. 

Five, six, almost seven seconds pass before the realisation kicks in. If he wants to put his cock in your mouth, then he can. Satoru’s body moves on its own before he gets a chance to think about his actions, as is often the case with him, and it's not long before his large hand finds its new home on the back of your head. He falters briefly, watching how you quiet down, how your eyes widen slightly, but continues as he’s doing when you make absolutely no move to stop him when he gently guides your head down, and down, and down—until you’re right where he wants you. 

A small gasp leaves your lips when he puts you on eye-level with his crotch. It’s quiet, and he almost didn’t hear it, but it makes him pause nonetheless. The hand on your head loosens its grip, and he hesitates as he looks down at you. 

“Is this oka—” 

The sentence never gets finished, forever interrupted by a sharp hiss as you take his cock out of his pants with such unabashed eagerness. It slaps against his abdomen, leaky tip staining the fabric of his shirt. Your previous conversation is all but forgotten, it seems, as you don’t waste a second in taking his hard, aching length almost entirely into your mouth. It all happens so quickly, and Satoru’s mind almost can’t keep up. All he did was think about filling your mouth, and now he’s actually doing it; the fat tip prodding near the back of your throat. 

His hands are shaky, he notices, and so is his breathing as a small whine escapes when one of your hands goes downwards to play with his balls. “Fuck!” he curses, caught by surprise at the boldness with which you reached for that part of him. In his startle, his hands return to the back of your head, and your words make their impromptu return to the very front of his mind. 

Use me. 

He will, then. 

Satoru isn’t at all gentle when he does. His fingers tangle into your hair, and he pushes you down onto his cock until your nose brushes against the soft, white hairs near his pelvis. Your poor little mouth is struggling, he can see, but he can’t seem to pay much mind to it; the sounds of you gagging around his thick length are too much of a pleasure to hear. The way he pushes you up-and-down nears the realm of brute force, and still you eagerly suck, and suck, and suck. 

A particularly loud groan echoes through the room when he steals a glance at your small form kneeling between his legs. It seems he knows you well; you are a sight for sore eyes like this. There are tears in your eyes, and some of them have already fallen down your hollowed cheeks; hollowed, to make space for him. Your mouth is filled to the brim with his cock, and even though he can see you fighting for breath, you never make an attempt at catching it—as if you wouldn’t dare to deprive him of the please your throat gives him. 

Satoru catches himself falling in love all over again. 

He fucks your face harder, and harder, and harder the closer he gets to the edge. Deep groans, and slurred curse words join your symphony of muffled moans, and his hold on your head slowly starts to falter. 

“‘M close, princess,” he mumbles, but that’s about all the warning he gives you. A few seconds later, he cums down your throat. He doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to. Not because you’d given him permission to use you as he sees fit, but simply because he knows you’re utterly obsessed with him doing so. “Fuck, f—fuck, look a’you, hm? Gonna take all of it like a good girl? Don’t waste it, m’kay? S’all for, fuck, for you.” 

It’s something he’s done countless times before, but Satoru swears that each time he spills his cum down your throat feels better than the last. Thick, sticky ropes fill your mouth, and you hum around him when it keeps going, and going, and going. You’re struggling to take it all, and he huffs in amusement when bits of it start to drip down your chin. His thumb catches it, and he quickly places it back in your mouth, forcing you to open it wider to accommodate both the digit and his slowly softening cock. You happily do so. 

He pulls out of you shortly after, with his chest heaving as he recuperates. His entire focus is on you, you, and you as he watches you wipe your mouth and swallow the last of his seed. There’s a smile on your face. It’s kind, and gentle, and innocent; almost as if he hadn’t just fucked your mouth and dumped his release down your throat. Satoru is utterly bewitched as he watches you, captivated by all and every little thing you do, and he cooperates as you tuck him back into his pants. 

And then, as if nothing at all happened, you sit down next to him again—and you speak, you continue talking, finishing the story he’d interrupted with his need to be sucked off. Your voice is hoarse, and your cheeks are still stained with dried tears, but you pay neither of those facts any mind. It makes all of this look so. . . mundane. You were speaking, and then you were between his legs, and now you’re speaking again. 

Satoru’s heart starts to beat even faster for you. Fuck, that’s so hot. This time, he decides to try his very best to listen to your tale about some co-worker of yours that pissed you off this week. He pitches in every-now-and-then, adding a low ‘huh,’ or ‘mhm’ to keep you occupied, and he almost feels guilty—guilty, because all his adrenaline-filled mind can think about are the future possibilities of using you.

“And, wanna know what’s the worst thing about the situation? It was my idea to get donuts for everybody! That harlot didn’t even want them initially.” 

Satoru’s downward spiral is inevitable, and he finds himself falling victim to it more times than one would consider healthy in a mere seven days. He very quickly learns that he’s thoroughly obsessed with the notion that allows him to fill you up anywhere, and at any time. To him, it’s one of the highest honours. 

There’s such confidence, such unwavering faith encompassed in your view of him. There has to be, if you’re willing to allow him such a thing. Thinking about it almost causes a cute pink hue to colour his cheek. . .you really do trust him a lot, huh?

He’s never been able to tell you ‘no’ before, and he certainly isn’t about to start. So, he dutifully listens to you and abides by your delectable request. To satisfy you, of course. There’s absolutely no other reason for his actions, and the way he breaches your dripping cunt with his leaky tip, all while soft breaths leave your lips, and your pretty eyes are peacefully shut, is simply to indulge you. 

Use me. Use me. Use me. 

Satoru curses, the crude words that tumble past his lips being plenty colourful. One of his hands settles on your hip whilst the other hikes your (or rather his) shirt up to provide him with better access. It’s your fault, really, that he’s currently sporting one of the hardest boners of the century. You were waiting for him, weren’t you? Waiting for him to return and bury himself to the hilt in that sweet, sobbing pussy of yours. 

There’s no other reason for you to fall asleep with nothing but his shirt on. Not even panties covered your cute little cunt, your sticky folds fully on display and welcoming him home. Satoru wants to bury himself in it—in a multitude of ways if he’s being truly honest with himself. For now, though, he’ll stick to simply one. 

“Shh,” he coos into your ear, delicately rubbing soft circles into your upper thigh with his thumb. You whine faintly, feeling his cock fight its way past your walls. He splits you open, stretching you just wide enough to slip inside. Your nose scrunches up cutely, and he almost rouses you from your slumber.  “‘S me, really need you, baby.” 

And that’s all he has to say. It’s me. It’s your Satoru. A gentle whisper of those words, and he gets to use you as he pleases. All of his previous worries, all of the near-boiling anger he felt at his previous meeting with the higher-ups washes away as soon as he sinks himself balls-deep into your pussy. Satoru groans deeply at the feeling, and gentle, stuttered declarations of love are babbled into your ear with each slow drag of his cock along your walls. 

The garbled mesh of words that he deems too important not to say, even despite their poor enunciation, only ceases to exist a few minutes later—when he spills his heavy load into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. No, into that sweet cunt of his. Because, that’s who it truly belongs to, no? It’s his, to use, to spoil, to worship. You’d offered it to him so kindly, after all. And, well, Satoru has never been the type of person to turn down a gift. 

. . . You unknowingly create a monster. It seems that even the mere idea of being allowed to use you as he pleases has him tip-toeing around the line of borderline insanity. As each time he sees you, he wants you. . .and each time he wants you, you let him. 

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing at that moment. Even if you’re speaking, and he suddenly feels the need, no, the simple want for a blowjob. And even if you’re asleep, resting after what must have been a long day, you still allow him to slip his aching cock into you to satisfy the craving he’s had for hours. 

Even if you’re busy setting the table, you don’t push him away, and you still allow him to bend you over the wooden surface, to sink to his knees and lick, suck, and kiss around his pretty pussy with his tongue. Simply because he wants to do it, and you really do so, too. 

. . .And even now, when you’re cooking dinner. 

There’s a certain cuteness about the way your brows scrunch in concentration, about the way you gently bite on your bottom lip as you prepare the food for the two of you; it nearly makes him feel guilty for feeling the secret desire to ruin such a lovely, innocent view. The word nearly is important, however, as he’s acutely aware of your need for him to do exactly that—and so, any sense of wrongdoing melts away, similar to snow underneath the sun.

He’s not quite sure what it is that you’re cooking, but it smells delectable. There’s an array of spices, herbs, and vegetables strewn around the counter, and Satoru knows he’ll be eating like a King in a few minutes. As for right now, though, there’s a different craving, a different type of hunger slowly making its way forward. He fears it won’t be one that’ll be sated by your lovely culinary skills. 

“Smells good, baby,” he mumbles. It doesn’t take him long to settle himself behind you, large hands gently coming to rest on your hips. He sighs in the crook of your neck, and nudges the skin with his nose. “What’cha making?” 

You answer. He knows you do, as he feels the vibrations of your voice underneath his lips, the soft hum feeling quite soothing as he kisses along the column of your throat, but Satoru can’t find it in himself to focus on the words you give him. His ever-loose hands roam eagerly down your body, and the previous loving, and delicate kisses along your neck turn sloppy, wet, almost, as Satoru dips one of his hands underneath the waistband of your panties. There’s a grin forming on his lips, one entirely too big and full of confidence. 

“‘M startin’ to think you’re just always wet for me, pretty girl,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers entirely coated in your slick the second he’d sunk them into your dripping cunt. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you try to stifle a moan when he, so very, very slowly starts to move his fingers in-and-out of you. “I—I am,” you admit, and clench around his digits just as he’s about to take them out; as if it’s a last resort to keep them inside. “F’you, Satoru. Just for you.” 

“Hm?” He hums, and almost huffs in amusement as he sees you trying to continue what you were doing so desperately, as if you weren’t being fucked on your husband’s fingers. Just for that—he rapidly thrusts his fingers back into you, harsher, deeper, and so much quicker. “Just for me, yeah, princess?” 

“Y—Ah! Yes, yes,” you squeak, one of your hands seeking out some semblance of support from the kitchen counter.  “Only for you.” 

There’s an embarrassing sound hitting your ears, as each thrust of his absurdly long fingers is accompanied by your wetness squelching around them. You struggle to speak, to breathe almost, as he fucks you on his fingers. Satoru stretches you out, curling his fingers to find the spot he knows will leave you with those pretty tears falling down your cheeks, and to hit it over, and over, and over again. 

There’s such a heat gathered between your legs, such a pleasurable source of warmth, and Satoru suppresses a groan as he’s once again made very aware of that fact when your walls clench around his digits. His cock twitches, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he grinds it against your ass. “You are, aren’t you? Hm? C’mon, baby, don’t be shy. . .be a little louder.”

You aren’t shy. You haven’t been for a while now. There’s a certain hotness in the way you moan so unabashedly, so utterly shamelessly whenever Satoru gets his hands on you in such a way—it’s as if you can’t ever get enough of him. It never fails to harden his cock even more, to make his balls feel achingly heavy until he ultimately empties them inside your tight little cunt. And you know so, which is exactly why you do it. 

“‘M not,” you rasp out, one of your hands coming to rest on his wrist. The back of your head falls against his shoulder as you choke on a moan, seeking some very necessary aid to stay upright. “Please, I. . .’Toru, please.”

In all honesty, Satoru isn’t quite sure what you’re begging for. He knows it’s one of two options: either to cum on his fingers, or for him to push his thick cock inside your pussy already. There’s no desire to ask, however—he’d much rather make that decision himself. The hand that wasn’t currently burying three of its digits knuckle-deep into your pussy busies itself with his belt-buckle. 

There’s a pitiful whine falling from your lips, one that’s released immediately upon the removal of his fingers from your cunt. “Shh,” he coos in your ear, instantly soothing your upcoming tantrum. You stifle the complaint you’d prepared for him, the feeling of his fat tip prodding near your too-eager hole quickly puts an end to it. “S’okay, pretty girl, just wanna feel you cum around my cock, s’all. . .Think you can do that for me?” 

You nod, and rapidly so. “Mhm,” you hum, and open your mouth when he presents it with his soiled fingers. You clean them, suckling around them until each bit of your sweetness is gone. “Want to—really wanna cum around your cock, ‘Toru.”

“Of course, you do,” he breathes, and captures a quick kiss. And another. And another. And one more. It makes you smile, and that, in turn, makes him smile. When he does pull back, there’s as much love as there is lust dancing in his eyes. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less of you, princess.”

Satoru is often greedy. There’s no such thing as savouring something with him—if he’s enjoying himself, he’ll be as gluttonous as he wishes. The exception is you, of course, as you always are to him. There’s no greater feeling than savouring you. It’s why he, more often than not, decides to fill you up slowly. To let his cock drag along your walls, to let your soothing warmth engulf him inch, by inch, by inch, until his firm balls press up against your ass. He does so this time, too. 

Your long, drawn-out moan as he fills you up slowly sounds as if it were gifted to him by the Heavens, and Satoru’s cock twitches inside when he hears you mutter a soft fuck as you struggle to adjust to him. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve taken his cock, but the sheer girth of him still stretches you out—as it always does. Your husband loves you dearly, however, and waits. . .one second, two seconds, three seconds, and he doesn’t get any further before his self-restraint falters. 

Satoru nearly pulls himself out of your cunt completely, only for him to fuck himself back inside so deeply—it has you place both palms of your hands on the counter to steady yourself. It startles you, as he hears you choke on a moan, but he continues. His movements are quick and rough, animalistic even, as he pounds into your cunt. 

“Sa—ngh, Satoru, wait, I. . .” You interrupt yourself with a moan, the feeling of his tip near your cervix too sharp for you to properly finish a sentence. He’s so deep. It feels as if he’s in your womb, in your stomach—it feels as if he’s everywhere. “Fuck, I. . .f—fuck, ‘Toru. . .”

 “Hm?” He breathes out, a groan slipping past his lips. “Want me to, fuck, you. . .” His rapid movements dial down. The self-control needed for it is enormous, but you’d asked him to wait—so he will. Some beads of pre-cum drip into your cunt, as if his cock was upset that he’d suddenly slowed down. “Wan’me to go slower, baby?”

“No,” There’s a small whine near the end of your sentence. It’s the absolute last thing you wanted him to do, even if you originally asked him to wait. “No, don’t, please, keep going. Need—need more.” You feel Satoru wrap both hands around your hips, as if he’s preparing for something. “Harder, please. . .”

“Harder?” He asks, and you don’t need to see him to know there’s currently a sense of smugness ruining his pretty face.  “How hard do you want it, huh, sweets?” 

Little more than the tip remains inside you, and there’s not a moment for you to mourn the loss of his entire girth—as all air leaves your lungs when he immediately thrusts back into you with a newfound vigour, with such force that it has you bend over the kitchen counter. 

“Like, ah, like this, huh? That how you want it, angel?”

You don’t answer—you’re not able to, as Satoru uses the entirety of his thick length to steal your ability to speak coherently. Once again, you’re acutely aware of the sheer size of your husband. Satoru is tall, and big, and he likely isn’t even aware of it. It certainly doesn’t seem so, as he heads no mind to the way your feet are starting to lift off the floor. Each deep thrust has you inching further up the counter; his hands on your hips nearly holding you up and off the floor as he rocks into you from behind. 

There’s little you can do, except take it. 

The kitchen is filled with sounds that definitely do not belong there. Your wetness is prominent, the sound of it borderline embarrassing, and Satoru’s balls slap against your skin with each thrust. He’s relentless, and you want to cry. The good kind of crying; the kind that often comes accompanied with mind-numbing pleasure. You hiccup, and sniff, and try your best to stabilise yourself against the counter. 

Though, your efforts prove futile once Satoru brings one of his hands to your front. You choke on a whimper as he cruelly pinches your clit, toying with it, flicking and rubbing it in the way he knows will get you off. 

“T—Toru,” you warn him. “I—I’m. . .”

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgement, not letting up even for a second. There’s a featherlight kiss pressed to your shoulder. “Me too, princess. S’okay, let, shit, let go for me, yeah?”

And because he’s Satoru—your Satoru, you comply. It hits you all at once, and you’re suddenly very grateful for both your husband holding you upright, and your expensive kitchen counter for adding some extra support. You’re still breathing heavily, coming down from your high, when Satoru hits his own. It’s a familiar feeling, but one you’ll never grow tired of nonetheless. 

You sigh in content. His cum fills you up rapidly, and to the brim. It’s hot, and thick, and trickles out of you even with him still inside—simply because there’s so much of it. The both of you are out of breath, and because of it, choose to stay within each other’s hold for just a little while longer. 

Satoru could—and would—stay in this position for the rest of his life. . .but he’s quite sure that you’ve put a lot of effort in today’s dinner and he doesn’t want it to be for naught. With a deep sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek, he goes against every fibre of his being, and pulls out of you. 

A shiver trails down your spine when he does so, and you let out a soft sigh in content. You’re still recovering, he notices. There’s a trail of his cum dripping out of you, though he wastes little time to push it back inside. Satoru takes matters into his own hands, and decides to place your panties back into place for you, too. It gets soiled by his seed rather quickly, but that’s a problem for later. 

After smoothing down your skirt, he tucks himself back into his pants, as well. He’s by your side as quick as he can, and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. 

It’s only then that he properly takes notice of all the stuff that’s been thrown around the kitchen. Pots, pans, vegetables, spices. It seems you really were busy.

And, as if he hadn’t just finished fucking you silly, he smiles. 

“So, what are you making?”

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

Okay relating to a recent post, cleaning up Logan after a fight/mission? Maybe you have a kit ready to go when you hear him return, put his favorite pjs on a fluff cycle so they're nice and warm for him. You clean off any blood (maybe a few remaining wounds if it was BAD bad), and wipe down his claws. Maybe shower together, letting you run your fingers through his shampooed hair before getting cozy for the night

I just wanna take care of him

you! you get it!!

comfort

summary: you take care of logan after he comes home from a mission.

cw (treating this like ao3 tags): blood, wound tending, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, not proofread at all, english isn't my first language so beware, reader has hair, i'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but i'm a girl so i may have accidentally added something gendered without realising idk. this is very soft! you can say this is out of character for logan but i believe he's actually a big softie and just wants love!

word count: 1619

logan comes home to you sitting on the couch reading a book. or, well, you’re trying to read, but it’s hard to focus on anything when logan’s out on a mission. you know he can’t die, his regenerative healing factor pretty much guarantees that, and yet there’s still an irrational spark of fear that lives in you, lighting a fire in your heart every time he gets called away by the x-men.

every minute that passes is a dagger, every new star that appears in the sky a reminder of how long he’s been gone. missions for the x-men can be mere hours or last for days, you remind yourself, and time has nothing to do with how dangerous it is.

though logan typically only gets chosen to go on the dangerous missions. he’s not the one they ask to convince new, young mutants to go to the school. he’s too harsh, too jaded.

you immediately drop the book when you hear the sound of the door lightly creaking open. you’re on your feet in an instant, there to catch logan when he falls into your arms, sweaty and bloody and tired - not as much physically, he has insane stamina, but mentally.

“missed you,” he mumbles into your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“missed you more,” you reply.

you stay like that for a few minutes. you both need the comfort. early on in your relationship, logan would refuse this type of comfort after a mission, claimed he didn’t need it, he’s fought and killed his entire life and never had a sweet thing like you to take care of him when he got back. but you did, you needed to know he was there, with you, a physical presence, proof that nothing terrible had happened to him.

secretly, he revelled in those moments. now, he trusts you enough for those feelings to be spoken out loud, whispered reverently between “i love you”s, declarations of affection and faith. you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him to open up this way, to verbalise his feelings instead of swallowing them down.

“you’re covered in blood,” you comment, running a hand down his chest.

he shivers, “most of it’s not mine. but they got a few shots in.”

you hum, pulling back to take a better look at him. his shirt is torn in a few places, and in the middle of his chest are multiple neat, round holes in the fabric, small marks showing where bullets pierced his skin. the wound itself has healed, but the blood remains, a visual reminder of the pain your boyfriend was feeling not so long ago.

he may heal quickly, but he still feels pain, feels agony, and your heart shatters at the way others seem to forget that, so quick to put him in the line of fire. he’ll be fine, they say, and while that may be true physically, there’s only so many times a man can play human shield before he breaks.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, the next part of your routine for when he returns from missions. 

it’s a dance you’ve almost perfected, the way he wraps his arms around your waist and you have to walk to the bathroom with him clinging to you. 

he sits down on the closed toilet seat, closing his eyes and letting you do all the work. his claws come out next, stained with the blood of those he harmed and killed, yet you trace them softly all the same. they protect you - he protects you, really, and so you’ll always be grateful for them, even when logan considers them a curse, a stain upon his existence, turning a man into a monster.

you grab a washcloth and dampen it, wiping meticulously at each sharp blade, from his knuckle to the pointed tip of the adamantium. soon, the washcloth is stained a dirty red, almost brown in its appearance, and the metal gleams brightly under the bathroom lights.

there’s an ease to his posture when he retracts his claws, so slight a difference that no one else would have noticed. he told you once that he can feel the blood remaining on his claws when they pull back into his skin, that it’s an uncomfortable reminder that he’s hurt people, that he’s a killer.

he doesn’t clean them himself, says the reminder is necessary. you disagree, and so you took to wiping them down yourself every time he came home after any sort of fight.  

there’s a small spot of blood between each of his knuckles where the claws pierce his skin, the tiniest bit of red that welled up before the cuts could heal themselves and you wipe that away too. then you lean down to press soft kisses to his hands, the part of himself that logan hates most.

he sighs, a shaky exhale leaving him at the sight of you lowering onto your knees to worship him, to prove your adoration.

any other time that would be enough to turn the mood of the evening into something much different, but he isn’t willing to give this up quite yet, this soft intimacy that’s always felt so foreign to him, a type of love he’d convinced himself he would never get to experience.

“i’m gonna go throw our pajamas and a few blankets into the dryer. you can get the shower going in the meantime, ‘kay?” he agrees easily, of course, and you lean up to kiss him, slow and soft.

pulling away is almost physically painful but you manage. you find the fluffy hello kitty pajama pants you originally bought for logan as a joke as well as the matching set you bought yourself and grab the blanket that sits at the foot of your bed, throwing them into the dryer to warm them up.

he sleeps naked most days, a blessing for you, but on his more difficult days he likes to cuddle up to soft, plush fabrics. besides, you like to think that the silly pajama pants bring him comfort, a reminder of your love for him, that you’re thinking about him even at the most inopportune of times.

he’s in the shower when he returns, the water tinged pink as it slides down the hard, muscled planes of his body. you’re quick to undress and join him, stepping under the hot water, feeling it soak into your hair and skin.

“you’re gorgeous,” logan says, grabbing onto your waist with his large hands to pull you to his chest. he brushes your wet hair out of your face. “can’t believe how lucky i am to have you. what did i ever do to deserve you, sweetheart?”

“you don’t have to do anything to deserve me, logan,” you say, “just being you is enough. and really, you do so much for me. every day.”

“loving you is the best thing i ever did,” he admits, “i’m gonna continue to do whatever i need to keep you. wanna be with you until i die.”

you’ve had conversations like these before, usually always in moments of vulnerability, often coming after devastation and horror. he doesn’t say these types of things in the light of day, but he doesn’t take them back later either. they just stay, floating in the air between you.

one day, you think, you’ll be able to have a real conversation about the future with him. it’s a goal to look towards, but he’s not quite there yet, and you’re okay with that. you’re content with what he does tell you, praise that he marks into every inch of your body.

you use your body wash to clean him, knowing he’ll smell faintly of you afterwards, and the possessive part of you is pleased. your hands tangle in his hair, scrubbing the shampoo into his scalp. his head is tilted down so you can have better access. 

it gets harder to finish cleaning him as his body leans into yours, two magnets always seeking each other. 

you exit the shower before him, allowing him a few more seconds under the water pressure to pull the last remnants of tension from his form. you pat yourself dry and then hurriedly grab the garments you’ve thrown into the dryer, stepping back into the humid bathroom as logan turns off the water.

the adrenaline has made way for bone-deep exhaustion, and so you help logan dry off.

it’s peaceful, quiet, as the two of you finish your nighttime routines. he brushes his teeth and watches you do your skincare routine, unwilling to go into your bedroom if you’re not by his side.

he falls asleep before you, for once. typically, he struggles to fall asleep, worried about the nightmares that plague his slumber and the possibility of harming you while unconscious. it’s nice to see him sleeping peacefully, the stern lines of his face flattening into a soft tranquillity that only you get to see.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy but you need to watch him just a little longer. so you fight the darkness that wants to pull you under, focusing on the hand you have placed on logan’s chest, the way you can feel the steady rising and falling of his breathing, the way his warm skin feels against the palm of your hand. 

“i’ll always come back to you,” he’d told you once when you had expressed the worry that seizes hold of you whenever he’s away for long.

you’re smiling when you fall asleep, those words replaying in your mind. he’s home, with you, and as long as he comes home to you everything will be okay.

[whenikissedthegiyuu]

Kinktober 2024

Guided Masturbation w/ Suna Rintarou

word count 1.7k

18+ mdni. fem!reader, smut, masturbation (f and m), some might consider this dubcon due to implied alcohol consumption, cum play?, pet names (love, baby, good girl, doll), written in 2nd pov

kinktober 2024 mlist can also read on ao3

Suna choked on the water he had been drinking when you admitted you had never been able to come with your fingers alone. 

“Yeah, it just never feels good enough. I have to use a toy so I can make myself come.” You pouted as if Suna wasn’t about to bust in his pants at the image you were painting in his mind. “There’s gotta be something wrong with me. I could be hours at it.” 

You would just not shut up. Were you that oblivious to Suna’s reddened cheeks and the tent forming in his sweatpants? 

You paused, noticing your best friend wasn’t meeting your eyes. You placed your empty cup on the table. “Sorry. Was that too much? I’ll probably be embarrassed about this tomorrow morning when I don’t have alcohol in my system to give me courage.” 

He coughed, then stood up and grabbed your cups to take them to the kitchen. He could feel your eyes following his every movement, as if he would disappear if you weren’t staring at him. 

“I need another drink so I don’t remember this tomorrow.” You mumbled, standing up to follow him into the kitchen. He blocked your path when you went to reach for the fridge. 

He tsked, cornering you against the counter when you stepped back. “I will not have you puking in my bathroom again for mixing alcohol. Back to the couch, I’ll bring you water in a moment.”

You pouted again. Suna’s eyes darted down to your lips, holding back the urge to capture your jutted out bottom lip between his teeth. He quickly looked back into your eyes and took a step back, physically putting distance between the two of you before he did something that would damage your friendship. 

He released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in once you headed back into the living room, thankfully listening to him for once in your life. He followed shortly after with water for you. 

“Have you been with a lot of girls?” 

He chuckled. “Are you slut shaming me, now?”

You playfully slapped his arm. “Have you been able to make them come with your fingers alone?” You countered. 

He sighed. You wouldn’t just drop it. “Not every woman is the same.” 

You dramatically fell sideways on the couch after downing your water, your head landing on his thigh as you started to sober up. “My pussy is defective.” 

He choked on air this time. He wasn’t even sure he heard you right until he noticed you were glaring at him. 

“You’re not defective, love.” His hands found your hair and he started running his fingers through it. 

You scoffed. “How would you know?” 

The words were on the tip of his tongue. His fingers twitched with the need to slip in your sweats and make you come just so you would shut up about it. Instead he bit his tongue and kept playing with your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp as you hummed softly at the feeling. Perhaps if he kept the gentle touch long enough, you would eventually fall asleep. 

“What if you help me?” 

Or not. 

His eyes darted down to you. You turned to lay on your back so you could meet his eyes. You seemed just as surprised as he was by your own words. His hand fell on his lap, suddenly aware of your lack of bra when his gaze was inevitably drawn to your hardened nipples nearly visible through the white shirt you were wearing. 

He watched your face fall and he realized in his mental panic he hadn’t said anything at all. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He blurted out.

But you both know that you did. You devoured the take out he ordered earlier and drank the water he gave you. Your deepening frown was clue enough that you were not drunk. 

“Sorry, again.” You said as you sat up, but he grabbed your wrist before you could go far. 

He sighed. What could go wrong? This is just to help you, he tried to defend himself in his mind. He was being a good best friend. Tomorrow he would wake up and pretend it was just a dream– a dream that he just knew he would fist his cock to every time he remembered the sound of your pretty moans and how your fingers look like stuffed in your cunt. 

“I’ll help you. Guide you, I mean. I can guide you, so you can make yourself come.”

Your lips parted and your thighs pressed together. He held back the urge to touch you. This was for you, not for him. 

It was a blur, from the moment you let out a breathy yes to when you fell back on his bed naked. Your legs were spread, held open by his hands on your knees when you tried to close them. His eyes were on your face despite the temptation to just stare down at your glistening folds. 

“Just do what you would usually do. Pretend I’m not here.”

How could you pretend your hot best friend was not kneeling down between your legs, fully clothed while you were completely exposed? You closed your eyes, but you could still see him as clearly as if they were still open. Your hands reached between your thighs, collecting your wetness in your fingertips before you started circling your clit. He hummed. 

“You’re an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” Suna murmured, grabbing your wrists and moving your hands up to your tits. “Touch them, grope them, toy with your nipples. Tease yourself until you feel your pussy dripping on my bed.” 

Your eyes were still closed, your mind wandering into dangerous territory. Your fingers circled your areola, your nipples puckering as you moved to cup your breasts instead and gently squeezed. The action had your back slightly arching off the bed. 

“That’s it, what a good girl.” Suna’s hands went back to your knees, this time rubbing soothing circles on your skin. 

You suddenly regretted asking Suna for help. You were almost sure his voice was the one making you clench around nothing, not the way your thumbs finally brushed over your nipples. A soft moan tumbled out of your lips. 

Suna looked down between your legs, then darted his eyes to your hands. “Feels good, doll?”

You nodded almost immediately. “Feels so good, Rin.”

Fuck. If you kept saying his name like that, he really was going to come in his pants like a pathetic teenager. He swallowed, his grip almost imperceptibly tightening on your knees. 

He let out a deep, albeit a bit forced chuckle. He was about to beg you to let him put his mouth on you. You would let him, he knew you would, which is why he held back. 

You pinched your nipples between your fingers, then let go to prop yourself on an elbow and reach for the hem of his shirt. “Take it off.” You asked in a soft whisper, your hand going between your legs when he obliged without much protest. He grabbed your wrist when he noticed you trying to slip a finger inside. 

“Did I say you could do that?” He snapped, his tone making you look up into his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, barely visible in his half lidded gaze. “You want it to feel good, right?”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you slowly nodded. Suna bit back a groan. 

“You wanna be my good girl, don’t you?” He murmured, his hands moving to the underside of your thighs, keeping your legs spread as he laid down on his stomach. His face was so close, you felt his breath hitting your skin before his lips pressed against your knee, then your inner thigh. 

“Wanna be your good girl, Rin.” 

He smirked. “Yeah?” He breathed against your skin, fingers digging into your thighs. “Touch that clit for me, baby. You wanted to make yourself come, didn’t you?” 

You obliged, your fingers finding the sensitive nub and started to rub it in circles. Your head fell back against the pillow, your eyes fluttered shut again as your fingers quickened. You started to feel the familiar burn of an orgasm.

It was still so out of your grasp, your fingers itching to slide lower, to feel something inside you, but you didn’t want to lose this feeling. You didn’t want to risk Suna grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away again. 

“Rin,” You moaned softly, your free hand moving to grab your tit, fingers toying with your nipple. So close, so fucking close. 

Suna pressed his forehead to your leg, his hips pressing down against the mattress. “Gonna come, baby?” He nearly panted as he sat up on his knees again. 

“Only if you do too.” 

He nearly did right then and there. Your voice was breathy, growing a pitch higher as your hips bucked up. His name left your lips again and he wasted no time hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and lowering them along with his underwear. 

“Finger this pretty pussy for me, doll. Wanna watch you clench around your fingers when you come.” His fingers wrapped around his cock, a low whine bubbling up his throat. “I’m not gonna last.” He admitted, cheeks flushed a deep red as he stroked his dick in time with your fingers. 

You propped yourself up on your elbow again, a whimper falling from your lips at the sight of your best friend fucking his fist between your legs. Your palm pressed against your clit as you curled your fingers against the spongy spot inside you. 

You came with his name on your lips, your fingers slipping out to rub your clit instead to milk your orgasm. Suna followed shortly after, gripping your thigh so tightly you were sure there would be bruises on your skin in the morning, his seed spurting out onto your pussy lips and your fingers. Your eyes rolled back at the warmth, your cunt clenching hard when you slipped your cum coated fingers inside you. 

Suna nearly came again at the sight. You could get yourself off without your toys, after all. You just needed your best friend to help you. 

[emphistic]

MEDDLE ABOUT

SYN. Being co-stars with your ex-boyfriend of three months is basically hell; or at least, that's what you think. AKA: Sukuna wants you back, whether he's acting or not.

TAGS. actor AU, fem!Reader, mean!Sukuna, exes to lovers, forced proximity, sharing a cigarette, smoking, arguing, eventual smut, Sukuna likes to shut you up with his dick, cockwarming, answering the phone during séx, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, porn w/o plot, use of pet names: baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, my dear (mockingly)

WC. 5.4k (please read anyway 😞)

AN. requested by anon (you didn't specify any genre, so i just freestyled 🤷‍♀️), animated dividers by @/cafekitsune; i'm a sucker for actor AUs; available on ao3; MDNI

“I know you wanna kiss me,” you smiled, leaning closer to Sukuna’s face. Your noses were barely apart, and you couldn’t tell where his breath ended, and where yours started. To be honest, this was far more intimate than any other kiss scene you ever had to film.

“Yeah?” Sukuna grinned, getting equally as close. “And what’re you going to do about that, pretty girl?”

“. . .Fucking slap you, that’s what.” 

“CUT!” The director yelled, groaning in exasperation. “C’mon, people. I know it’s been a long day, but put your differences aside for the sake of one movie, will ya? When you receive your paycheck, you’ll regret all of this ‘huffing and puffing’ you two are both doing right now.”

You exhaled, pulling away from Sukuna. It’s not that you couldn’t remember your correct lines, it’s just. . . You couldn’t take it anymore. Being in the same room as him, breathing in the same air as him, starring in the same movie with him. Fuck, you hated this.

You and Sukuna had broken up exactly three months ago despite having what seemed like a pretty healthy relationship. Seemed is the key word.

Of course, you two had your ups and downs, like an ordinary couple, but what differentiated you two from a normal couple was the fact that you guys both juggled busy careers as an actor and actress. Being booked with interviews, PR stunts, and in general, movies, you and Sukuna didn’t have the ability to spend much time together. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was constantly a multitude of women on his arm during movie premieres. Yeah, you knew those were all for PR, but still, it hurt to see your boyfriend standing with a woman that wasn’t you every day.

At first, you thought you could take it. Being an actress yourself, you had your fair share of rumors and made up scandals. But it came to a point where you couldn’t take it anymore. You and Sukuna broke up, consequently, and fans immediately voiced their opinions and concerns, bombarding Twitter with trending tags, and posting videos on several apps. The internet had been obsessed with you guys as a couple since the first movie you two co-starred in—which was years ago—so their complaints definitely weren’t for naught.

Originally, you thought that your relationship with Sukuna would end on good terms, but boy, oh boy, were you wrong. Sukuna, just mere days after your breakup, was spotted by paparazzi walking around the city with his arm around a girl you definitely did not recognize as one of his current co-stars. And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to hit you up and ask if he could come over to your penthouse right after.

Men, am I right?

You two may or may not have slept together as exes a few times after your inevitable argument about him and that new girl, but rest assured, you did eventually break things off permanently. Well, you thought you did. As if by fate, you and Sukuna were casted as co-stars in an up-and-coming romance movie that had your fans just dying in anticipation of finally being able to see their favorite (broken up) couple together on screen again.

To be frank, you were originally going to pass up the role as the female lead—seeing as your luck had landed you as co-stars with Sukuna—but your manager apparently really, really wanted you to work on the film, saying things like Think of how elated your fans will be and It’s an adaptation from a book that made millions and Just imagine all of the PR and promoting you could do. It took a while of convincing—and coercing—to get you to finally agree to the role since, after all, PR was the main reason for your and Sukuna’s breakup. But, honestly, you would be lying if you said there weren’t any feelings left for your ex-boyfriend, Sukuna.

“I think we should all take a breather,” Sukuna began, jeering, “before someone gets all hot and bothered by just being on the same set as me. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sukuna turned to you, an expression on his face that just made you want to punch him in the nose.

“‘Hot and bothered’, seriously? Don’t make me laugh.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sukuna tilted his head to the side, grinning. “Do you think I’m joking? I could feel the way your heart was racing earlier, when we had to shoot that hugging in the rain scene. Just admit it, this isn’t acting for you.”

He was definitely self-projecting, you scowled just by the thought of it.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. We all know how you really feel,” Sukuna teased, leaning down to your eye-level. His breath fanned your reddening ear as he whispered, “You want me so bad it makes you look fucking stupid.”

And when he pulled away, Sukuna added one last remark, “I know it’s been a long three months for you. Say, how’s that blondie treating you, hm? I bet his dick is as small as his future in acting.”

“Ryomen, just stop.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that with him, and you know that. Just leave me alone.”

You shoved at his chest as you walked off set, your assistants following you promptly with water bottles and towels.

In all honesty, you remembered it like it happened yesterday. Before you and Sukuna became boyfriend and girlfriend, your first meeting was in a movie that you both starred in as the female and male lead. It was a romance movie, of course, that was about a couple meeting on an island while both on individual vacations. You two spent most of your days on set in swimsuits and bikinis, consuming fake alcoholic beverages, and, consequently, sleeping together—after the tension just grew unbearable.

On and off camera, Sukuna had been growing an attraction towards you. I mean, who could blame him? You two had to be near each other while being basically half-naked. And, if your pretty face wasn’t enough to beguile Sukuna, your ass definitely was. From the moment he shook hands with you at your first meeting as co-stars, he knew he had to have you—acting or not.

That movie was the start of the skyrocketing of both your and Sukuna’s career in acting. Fans quickly noted how much chemistry the two of you had together, and how well you two could act out emotions and intimate scenes. What the audience didn’t know, though, was that you and Sukuna had started seeing each other a few weeks after shooting together.

Sukuna had invited over the whole cast and team for drinks after a successful movie premiere, and you two ended up talking and conversing in his kitchen whilst a little under the influence. You two hit it off, and learned that being an aspiring actor wasn’t the only thing you two had in common. One glass turned into two, and two turned into stumbling into Sukuna’s bedroom after everyone had responsibly ordered a cab home.

Waking up the morning after, and deciding it wasn’t just going to be a one night stand, you and Sukuna thus began your new relationship. At first, you two avoided being spotted in public together, but it came to a point where your relationship just couldn’t be hidden anymore and you both decided to go public. The internet responded almost immediately with cheers, enthusiasm, and occasionally, expressions showing how un-surprised they were. I mean, you two had been shipped together almost constantly; making it official was almost expected. 

Years passed, the honeymoon stage was over, your careers were more demanding and busy than they had ever been, and, well, you know the rest.

—

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

A grimace immediately made its way onto your face at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out to you from behind. 

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, turning to face Sukuna as he sat down beside you and slung an arm around the back of the couch, “I was hoping the next time I saw you would be at your funeral.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think?” chided Sukuna, as he brought out a cigarette and lit it.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the couch. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sukuna leaned his face closer to yours, his eyes running down your face and naturally drifting to your lips.

“Unless you’re being your usual asshole-self, and here to annoy me in my dressing room, I’m afraid not.”

After you stormed off set, the director decided it was best to just call it a day and continue filming tomorrow. You went outside for a bit to get some fresh air, before deciding to return to your dressing room and get unready. Stripping down and putting on nothing but your robe, you had sat yourself down on the couch and picked up a magazine, planning on spending a few minutes relaxing before making your way home. Sukuna barging in, despite being off the clock, was something you definitely weren’t expecting. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and if someone found out. . .

“You’ll be in a lot of trouble if my makeup artist comes in here and sees you,” you commented. “Go smoke somewhere else.”

At this, Sukuna’s eyes flickered up to your own, and he removed the cigarette from his lips before blowing out the smoke right in front of your face. Your nose scrunched up, as if on instinct, and Sukuna booped your nose with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I swear,” you began, snatching the cigarette out of Sukuna’s hands, “if I don’t kill you, I hope these will.” Now was your turn to put the cigarette between your lips. You inhaled, and took a deep breath. But, only moments after, the cigarette was out of your hands and abruptly stubbed on a nearby ashtray.

Sukuna looked at you with an intent look on his face. “As much as I find that hot, I’d rather I be the one damaging my lungs. Not you.”

“Looking out for little old me? How cute,” you smiled, your tone sarcastic. “I see you’re not over us, yet, hm? Did that new girl change your mind?”

You leaned closer to Sukuna, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly.

As soon as you mentioned that other chick, Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. It was nothing, we didn’t even hold hands. C’mon, all we did was sit next to each other at a party, and now you’re on my ass about her?”

You shrugged, picking up the magazine you had previously discarded and flipping through the pages with faux interest. “Oh, really? Didn’t look that way to me. You two sure seemed buddy-buddy.”

“Like hell we did. Fuck, do you want me to bring up that twig you were with last week? Kid’s got no meat on his arms. Can’t even call him a man. Is that seriously how low you’re willing to go, babe?” Sukuna scoffed at your lack of attention to him. “Shit’s even worse than a downgrade.”

“You can think that all you want. But I definitely disagree.” You struggled to stifle a giggle.

Sukuna, furrowing his brows, narrowed his eyes at you. “The fuck do you mean by that? Don’t tell me you’ve seen his dick.”

“I dunno, have I?” You turned to Sukuna, meeting his gaze with an equal amount of irritation.

“Must’ve been pretty small, though, if you can’t even remember it,” Sukuna pressed, leaning closer to you, your noses touching, before pulling away. “Whatever, this is boring. Say, how about we get back to where we left off, and practice that kissing scene, hm? I think it’s a great idea.”

“Ryomen, let’s not. You know we’re done. Been done. We’re through.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, is it not obvious? I think it was pretty obvious when you had the nerve to get with a new girl just days after we broke up. And then you have the balls to call me right after the paparazzi catches you two. Really, Sukuna? I don’t mind the idea of us ending on neutral terms, but . . . 48 hours? Two days after we broke up, and you’re already fucking some girl? Way to go, Sukuna.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, baby. We didn’t even kiss, did you see any pictures of us kissing? No. And, besides, it’s called provocation. Honestly, you should be praising me, because it worked in the end, didn’t it? I came ‘crawling back’ like one of your little bitch boys, and what happened? Oh, I remember; you let me right the fuck in to your apartment.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny Sukuna. He was right. And, just the mere thought of what you two did after he hit you up brought heat to your cheeks.

The very same night after pictures of Sukuna and that new girl started circulating around the internet, Sukuna decided to text you:

hey pretty girl,

you up?

You were drying yourself off with a towel when you received two notifications on your phone, and when you saw the contact name, you frowned and turned off your phone without giving a response. Minutes after, there was a ring on your doorbell, and when you checked the camera, lo and behold, stood none other than the last pink-haired man you wanted to see that evening.

When you opened the door, wearing nothing other than a towel around your still dripping body, Sukuna couldn’t help but shamelessly check you out, deciding then and there that this definitely wasn’t going to be the end of your relationship. Of course, an argument ensued soon after, because that’s what life was like dating a dick like Sukuna. Luckily for you, however, Sukuna’s bulge in his pants was bigger than his ego, and so it made up for all of the playful bullying and teasing remarks that he frequently gave.

Sukuna—because he wasn’t born yesterday—knew his looks and charms fairly well, and often used them as a weapon or bargaining chip. That’s why, after you spent a minute or two berating and yelling at Sukuna near your front door, it only took the man one look into your eyes and one sultry comment to have you both stumbling into the . . . bedroom? No, you two had been apart for two days too long, and just decided to utilize your expensive kitchen counters for purposes completely unrelated to cooking.

The next morning, you two woke up—after getting just half an hour of sleep—and didn’t untangle from each other’s limbs until your manager called you nearly a hundred times, and forced you to get up and attend some interview or something. That, however, was not your last night with Sukuna. You two met up—intentionally or not—within the same week, whether it be at interviews or just random outings, and meddled with the other until one of you would fold (usually Sukuna) and consequently do something you would end up not fully regretting the next morning.

This affair continued until you finally came to your senses and blocked Sukuna out from your life in all ways possible. But, due to his bank account, Sukuna did end up purchasing multiple different phones just to be able to contact you. You may or may not have given in a few times, but in the end, you did end up leaving Sukuna for good.

“Reminiscing, are you? It’s okay, I’ve been doing that every night since you left the penthouse,” Sukuna laughed, noticing the way you went silent. You hated the way he referred to his place as The penthouse, and not, simply, his penthouse because, to be frank, for the years you both spent as a couple, you practically lived together despite having individual residences.

“What the hell, Sukuna. Just—Why are you even—?”

Sukuna cut you off, rolling his eyes. “I find it pretty hard to believe that not a single part of you misses me. Don’t lie; lying is a sin, y’know.”

“Sukuna—Excuse me? Don’t give me that shit. ‘Lying is a sin’ my ass. You must have to ask for God’s forgiveness pretty often, then. I can’t believe you want to call me a sinner, I mean, just—just look at you! You’re no saint, either, and you know that damn well.”

Sukuna raised his hands in defense, humoring you. “Woah, looks like I’ve been caught,” he laughed, before getting a little more serious. “But, don’t try to avoid the fact that you’re not innocent. Okay, we broke up due to not being able to make time for each other, and because of how much women I had to be around. Yeah, I get that. But it’s not like I was the only one taking up PR stunts. You did the same, too, didn’t you? So don’t try and paint me out to be the bad guy, when, at the end of the day, we did the same fucking thing.”

Irritated, you pinched the space between your brows. “I barely have any energy to say something to your stupid face right now. We broke up because of that, but also because of how much of a fucking dick you were and are. I knew you weren’t a total angel when we got together but—”

“Look. Do you want a nice guy?”

“. . .”

“Don’t feel pressured to answer, baby. We all know how you really feel.”

“Go. to. Hell. Sukuna. Seriously. This? Again? Do you even know how much of an ass you are? I should deserve an award for putting up with your shit for so long, God—”

“Yeahh, just keep talking,” said Sukuna in a teasing manner, as he leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs apart. You had never wanted to sit somewhere so bad.

“Are you fucking kidding me—mmph!”

You would’ve continued yelling and cursing Sukuna out for being such a dick had he not roughly pressed his lips against yours, immediately shutting you up. Because you still had some self-respect left, you fought back, throwing weak punches at his chest; but when Sukuna caught your wrists in his hands, you knew it was game over. Your muffled complaints soon turned to whimpers and sighs, as you shut your eyes and let your body do the talking.

Minute after minute, you gradually turned to putty in Sukuna’s hands. Fuck, as much as you hated to admit it, you had truly missed this. The feeling of his large, coarse hands roaming your body, tracing your curves, the feeling of his soft, but unruly hair under your fingertips, but most importantly, the feeling of his lips on yours.

At this point, you couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up.

“Sukuna,” you murmured, pulling away for a moment to breathe. “We’re not together anymore. We shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t?” repeated Sukuna, eager to get back to where you left off. “Are you in a relationship with someone else? Am I in a relationship with someone else? No, and no. So enlighten me, my dear, why should we stop?”

“. . .” It was like he was challenging you, except, this time, it was a battle you could afford to lose. You wanted Sukuna, you really did. But admitting it was the hard part. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating every outcome, as Sukuna continued to stare at you with so much desire you could practically feel it.

“Are you hesitating because,” Sukuna paused, “—because you fucked someone else while I was gone?”

You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat; you had never been more conflicted in your life. Placing your hands on Sukuna’s shoulders, you pushed back until Sukuna was sitting on the couch, and you were sitting on top of him—seated on his lap. As if on instinct, his hands made their way from your hips to the curve of your ass.

Sukuna gripped the globes of fat and muscle with a purpose, and let out an exaggerated groan at the missed feeling of you practically sitting on his dick. You were wearing nothing but a dainty, silky robe, and you clearly didn’t cross it over your chest too well, as Sukuna could see almost everything he had been missing out on during the past few months.

“Don’t even think about lying to me. I can feel you throbbing on my thigh, y’know.”

“. . .And?” You raised a brow; whispering in Sukuna’s ear, “What about it?”

Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up and down Sukuna’s neck, the spot you knew he liked you touching. When you broke things off with Sukuna, you didn’t know you could miss being able to trace his tattoos as bad as you did.

“Oh?” asked Sukuna. But when his fingers wandered up your robe, there was a sudden change in Sukuna’s demeanor, and he sucked in a breath.

“Adorable,” you laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shit, baby,” Sukuna groaned, “I bet you were expecting me to come and visit your little dressing room, huh. Even planned ahead and gave me a little surprise. Cheeky thing.”

Just seconds earlier, Sukuna’s fingers had been teasingly ghosting where you wanted him most, but when he noticed the lack of underwear you had on, he nearly lost it. You clearly weren’t making it easy for Sukuna to stay composed, he was sure of that much. Despite all of his belittling and teasing remarks, he definitely wasn’t as unaffected as he let himself seem to be.

“We’ve just been apart for so, so long.” You looked into Sukuna’s eyes, a faux pout on your lips as you looped your arms around his neck and pressed your tits up against his chest. “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck, girl,” Sukuna kissed his teeth. “You’re dripping wet. All for me?”

“Who the fuck else?”

Sukuna’s fingers danced around your entrance, collecting your slick as you pressed your thighs together, trapping his hand between your legs (not like he was complaining, though; that was probably the closest to Heaven Sukuna would ever get in his lifetime). “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.”

It wasn’t a surprise when you pressed your lips against Sukuna’s, bringing him in for another zealous kiss. In an effort to get impossibly closer, your body curved into his, like you were puzzle pieces molded and created just for each other. You two moved in sync, as if you had both rehearsed this before; but, in truth, you two had just made out too many times to count, so kissing Sukuna was basically like breathing air. You needed it to survive, and, it was light work. What more could you say?

The tension and lust between you two grew, and your dressing room soon filled with the sound of sensual desire, moans and quiet gasps, and the creaking of the framework of your unfortunate couch, which had the misfortune of being beneath the two of you.

From the moment you had begun straddling his lap, you had pretended not to notice the growing erection below you; but, by now, it was pretty hard to ignore the bulge pressing against your ass. It was like, during the months you two spent apart, Sukuna’s dick was growing even larger than before. You didn’t remember it being so big. And, just the sight of it was enough to make you lick your lips in fear? Anticipation? . . .Definitely a mix of both.

As Sukuna made a show of removing his belt and pants, he grinned at the evident look of unfamiliarity on your face. “Scared?”

“Of course not,” you quipped, trying to put up a front, but your body betrayed you, displaying otherwise.

“Naturally,” Sukuna mocked, “that’s why I can practically feel your arousal, right?”

You bit your lip, “Shut up.”

Sukuna laughed, pushing the ends of your robe up to rest on your hips, and sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing each cheek with an equal amount of force. Damn, thought Sukuna, he had missed his favorite girls.

“Just because we haven’t done this in a while doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of it. C’mon,” Sukuna slowly repositioned and lowered your hips and spread your legs apart, easing his dick through your cunt, “there’s nothing to be shy about. I know you’ve been missing this.”

It was true, you and Sukuna hadn’t fucked in three whole months, and your body was definitely starting to forget how he felt. The feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s length and size burned pleasurably, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan, which, in turn, just came out as a whimper instead.

Bracing yourself, you planted both palms on Sukuna’s broad shoulders as your lashes fluttered and your eyes shut tight. “So—nngh—So big, Sukuna. God.”

“Bet you’re real glad you decided to accept this role, after all, huh.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glared at Sukuna. “Will you just shut—oh!”

Just as you were about to yell at Sukuna, he decided it was the absolute perfect time to give a rough thrust; and you could’ve sworn you felt him in your womb. Throughout all the years you two had been together, you rarely had the opportunity to actually sit on his dick, and, now that you had the chance, you realized how full you felt in this position compared to how you two usually fucked. Sukuna knew you liked it rough, but this . . . was like nothing you had experienced before.

Sukuna—laughing—leaned down just enough to whisper in your ear, “You were saying?”

“Fuck,” you gritted your teeth. “Just move, Sukuna, goddamnit. What’s the holdup? Don’t tell me the late twenties are catching up to your libido.”

“Ha! in your dreams. I was just thinking of a new way we could have fun. Let’s see, just how long can you go without moving, hm?”

You gulped. “W-What? Why would you—?”

“Because it’s exciting, and spices up things. Don’t you think so?”

“. . .”

As the minutes idly passed by, you grew hot and bothered, and exasperated. You couldn’t believe Sukuna was making you do this. Nearly ninety days you two spent apart, and now that you had gotten back together, he had the audacity to leave you high and dry? In a final attempt at getting any satisfaction, you moved to roll your hips, desperate to create any amount of friction to free you from this everlasting state between Heaven and Hell; but two rough hands abruptly caught you in motion, and swiftly held you down.

“Ah, ah, ah,” tutted Sukuna, in a mocking tone. “Did I say you could move?”

Clearly frustrated, you let out a whine; but as your hands move to give punches against Sukuna’s chest, he catches your wrists in his hands with ease, an evil smile on his face, like a predator that had successfully cornered their prey and was just seconds away from latching their teeth in.

The belt was already pretty loose, so when one of the sleeves on your robe slipped down your shoulder, revealing your bare chest, no one was that surprised.

“Oh?” Sukuna began. “What have we here?” His scarlet eyes roamed up and down your figure, as his grip on your wrists turned almost deathly.

“You . . . bastard,” you—suddenly feeling a bit shy—tried to tug your wrists out of his grasps, in order to cover yourself up, but your attempts were futile. “Let go of me—hnngh, shit.”

Your back arched, body curving closer to Sukuna’s as his lips abruptly wrapped around one of your already hard nipples, catching you off guard. You had never felt so overwhelmed; the feeling of Sukuna sucking on a tit while his dick was buried inside of you—unmoving—was nearly enough to make you cum, despite the lack of movement that Sukuna allowed.

Bringing you out of your dazed state was the sudden ringing of your phone on the table beside the ashtray. Your eyes widened in surprise, as you softly pushed Sukuna off of you. “Just—Just ignore it. It’s not important.”

“Right. But where’s the fun in that, huh?”

“You don’t mean. . .”

“You know what I mean. Answer it, on speaker,” Sukuna pressed. His tone told you he wasn’t going to repeat himself.

With shaky fingers, you reached for the phone, answered the caller, and put it on speaker. “H-Hello? Katayama?”

Katayama was the name of one of your co-stars. Or, in other words, the blonde dude, which Sukuna kept mentioning earlier.

“Hey, you! It’s pretty late right now, perfect time for us to go out and get some drinks, y’know? I’m a bit bored, as of lately.”

You were about to respond with an apologetic declination to his offer, but Sukuna cut you off as he roughly lifted up your hips and abruptly slammed them back down, causing you to choke back a moan, and cover it up with a faux series of coughs. “I’m, ah, a little . . . busy,” you whimpered, wincing at the tight grip on your hips—which was sure to leave a bruise in the morning, “right now.”

“Are you sick?”

“Uhm, no—I mean, yes!” You let out another fake cough just to seal the deal. “Yup, just a little under the weather.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a string of moans and curses as Sukuna continued slamming your hips up and down onto his.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of an extra warm blanket, don’t be afraid to—”

“Hahh.” A breathy moan slipped past your lips, and you could practically see the surprised look that was probably on Katayama’s face right now.

“—call . . . me. Uhm, are you sure you’re sick? You sound like you’re in the middle of . . . something. Is everything okay—?”

“Yup! Yeah, everything is totally okay,” you forced out, with an enthusiastic tone. Gripping Sukuna’s shoulder with your free hand for leverage, you shut your eyes tight as you quickly ended the call. “I’m a little occupied at the moment, I’ll call you ba—I’m gonna go. Bye!”

As swiftly as you hung up the call, you threw your phone across the couch, and let out all of the noises you had been previously bottling up.

“I’m so c-close.” You mewled, now even more desperate than you were before.

“If you dare cum,” Sukuna began, his voice low, “I’ll stop.”

“Sukuna!” You whined, scratching at his back and leaving little crescent shaped marks from your nails on his tricep. “I need to—ahnn!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held onto Sukuna’s shoulders for dear life as he quickened his pace. Lifting your hips up with ease, and slamming them back down with equal force. Fucked out of your mind was not enough to describe your current state, as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your lipstick was smudged across your mouth.

Sukuna leaned down to whisper into your ear, never stopping his movements. “Bet the little blondie didn’t fuck you like this, huh?”

It was obvious that Sukuna wasn’t an insecure guy; I mean, he had no reason to be. He had nice muscles, a good body, overall, sharp features, tempting eyes, and tattoos for days. But, you had to admit, the spark of jealousy was definitely a good look on Sukuna, one that you wouldn’t mind seeing every once in a while, if it meant seeing him like . . . this.

“. . .S-Sukuna, we never—we never even fucked in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah? How long you been without cock, then, huh? Must be why you’ve been acting like such a bitch. I almost feel bad; all this time, my baby’s just been depraved.”

“. . .F-fuck you,” you shivered, body practically shaking with need.

“No need to state the obvious, sweetheart. Fuck, even your tears taste sweet,” Sukuna groaned, licking a stripe up your cheek. “It’s as if you were literally made for me to devour.”

“Please, please let me cum! I’m so—hnngh—close.”

“Yeah, no. C’mon, I know my girl can last just a little longer, can’t you?” Sukuna grinned, biting his lip as he admired your dazed state. He hadn’t been able to touch you in three months, ninety days, 504 hours. If anyone was going to get their fill, it was him.

—

“Oh!” Your stylist exclaimed, after walking into your dressing room and noticing you lying asleep on the couch. “You’re already here. And, Sukuna’s here, too. Wait. . . SUKUNA’S HERE, TOO!?”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Break Up with Your Toxic Boyfriend (4 of 4)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: brief discussion of verbal, emotional, and physical injury canon-typical swearing, protective Simon, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

You might not be his anymore, but Ghost doesn't believe so. When you reach out to him, Ghost makes every excuse to come over, knowing that he can get you back if you just realize that you've always only been his.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // break up with your toxic boyfriend masterlist

Simon stands in the middle of your living room.

He is blood-drenched. Lead-hungry.

Full of venom. Full of fury.

His gaze sweeps over the busted television, the broken bookshelves, and the massive hole in the wall. There are bent picture frames empty of their glass. The photos within are either missing or partially torn. Whiskey stains the wall, running down from the impact point in little ribbons of amber.

Simon’s hands curl into fists.

This is so much fucking worse than what he originally thought. The living room doesn’t even scratch the surface. The kitchen is completely trashed, so is your bedroom where your boyfriend decided to shred up your clothes in anger.

Your… “boyfriend.”

That fucker should be grateful he isn’t here to face Simon. If he were, Simon would make him suffer. Make the prick eat his teeth.

On the phone, you were delirious, each word running together anger, frustration, and a fear that Simon felt in his gut. It sat heavy in his ears. That was enough for Simon to forget all responsibility and come to you.

Otherwise, Simon would not have come. You are not his woman anymore. That obligation to comfort doesn’t belong to him. It belongs to your boyfriend, but he’s the cause of all this suffering.

Why should you seek that bastard out?

No. Simon is glad you called him even though the circumstances turn his stomach and fill his veins with sludge.

He turns around and finds you lingering nearby. Your eyes are red with irritation, and your cheeks are puffy. Simon longs to pull you into his arms, yet hesitates only because you might push him away.

Simon unclenches his hands, flexing his fingers. “You’re breaking up with him.”

He’s not going to step around or sugar-coat this. Simon has always been blunt with his words, and this will be no different.

Your back straightens, hands clasped in front of you, fingers curled around the neckline of your sweater. “Simon—”

“It’s not a suggestion.” Simon lifts his arm, indicating the disaster of an apartment. “This is who he is. This will happen again.” He drops his arm.

Your chest expands. Deflates. “But—”

“Don’t defend him.”

“I’m not,” you snap.

Simon strides forward but you do not retreat. You stand tall, staring up into Simon’s face. Though your cheeks are stained with your tears, you’re beautiful.

“Next time it won’t be the wall or your television. It will be you he hurts.” Simon shakes his head. “And I won’t allow that.” You open your mouth as if to interrupt but Simon is having none of that. “I’ll kill him before that happens.”

“No. You won’t.”

“I will,” he growls. “I’ve never lied to you. Think I’m lying about this?”

Simon watches your throat bob as you swallow. He knows you understand. Fucking hell, he might be distant at times, even cold or blunt, but he never lies to you. Simon has always told you exactly what’s on his mind. Sometimes it has been to his detriment.

It is one of the reasons the two of you broke up. Simon didn’t want to end things. He respected your wishes, but even upon leaving, Simon still considered you his. The issue was with him and how he communicated with you about things. Emotionally, he was fucking distant. Not all the time, but enough that it seemed like he didn’t care.

That’s far from the truth, but Simon didn’t see any of it until you put it all out in front of him and decided to leave. Only then did he realize, and he did fucking everything to work on himself.

Fresh tears develop in the undersides of your eyelids. That’s it for him. It’s over.

Simon moves in, clasping the sides of your face with both hands. “Do you understand?” he asks softly, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

You don’t nod or even make a sound.

It’s not enough. Simon needs confirmation.

“He will escalate. He will get worse. You will be a target. Tell me you understand.”

There is a sniffle before you speak. “I know,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly.

Simon sighs and wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. You’re warm. A beacon of light in the disaster of a room. He leans in, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. He inhales and his lung fill with you.

With a final squeeze, Simon places a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls back, but just enough to look at you. “I’ll clean up.”

“I can help.”

Simon shakes his head. “No. Sit. I want to do this for you.”

Your brow softens, arms falling away from him as you step back and glide to the sofa.

Simon tackles the bedroom first, shoving all your damaged clothes into trash bags. He organizes everything, making sure nothing is out of place, that it appears as it did before your boyfriend trashed it all. When he’s done, Simon returns to you, putting you to bed.

“Don’t leave,” you murmur, and Simon doesn’t. He curls up next to you, holds you until your breathing becomes shallow and slow.

Only then does Simon unfurl himself, slipping away. He doesn’t leave the flat. He shuts the bedroom door and gets to work, picking up the shattered glass, sending the television to the large rubbish bin. He orders you a new one and schedules it for delivery. He sweeps the floor and returns everything to your kitchen cabinets. Anything that is torn or broken gets trashed. Simon works through your clothes last. Sitting on the living room floor, Simon shifts through every one, trying to see if anything is salvageable. Most of it is, but there is plenty he has to toss.

Simon works until there is nothing left. It’s incredibly late, the time creeping close to the rising of the sun. Returning to the bedroom, Simon kicks off his shoes and removes the balaclava. You’ve seen his face countless times, and showing it now is normal.

When Simon slips into the bed beside you, and your body shifts, turning in his direction. He slides over into your reaching arms. The moment your bodies come together, you sigh with pleasure, and the noise goes straight to his groin.

But Simon won’t. He won’t push. This is not about him.

Sleep floods in, and it is your soft hands caressing his face that eventually wake him.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice harsh from dreaming.

“Morning, Simon,” you reply, resting your chin on his chest.

This is how mornings used to be. It sends Simon into memory and the days when he knew he was in love.

Was?

No.

Is. He still is. He still loves you utterly. That never stopped for him.

Your hands are not idle. After caressing his face, they move downward. The shift in your motions sends little shivers through his spine. They are visible and sharp. You inhale, and Simon begins to lean in. You mimic him but pause before your mouths can meet.

“Do you have to go?”

Simon captures one of your wrists with his hand, caressing the pulse point there with his thumb. “I can stay as long as you like.”

The smile that spreads across your face warms him everywhere. He wants to savor it forever. Your gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth. Then, your head shifts to glance at his chest and stomach. He might be wearing a shirt but Simon feels bare under your attention.

As your gaze returns to his face, Simon’s resolve melts away.

Fuck it. He’s doing this.

Grabbing the back of your neck, Simon closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours. There is no hesitation or resistance. You melt into him, and Simon has to hold back a moan. Every kiss is tender. Sweet. He’s missed this—missed you so fucking much it’s a raging inferno under his skin.

There is no part he leaves untouched. His hands roam everywhere, seeking closeness. Seeking your warmth.

“Simon,” you whimper against his mouth.

“I’m right here, love.”

You push upward, swinging your leg over his body, straddling him. Simon is momentarily stunned but you’re already returning to him, pressing you lips to his. He groans and grips your neck harder as your hips rolls against him.

“Simon,” you repeat, and his name on your lips is shifting him around, turning his insides out, revealing all his weaknesses.

His hands and your hands tug and pull. Moving clothing. Shoving bedding aside. When you start to sink down on him, Simon has to break the frantic kissing to breathe deep, to praise you in all the ways he knows how.

Your hands are solid against his chest. An anchor as you rock back and forth.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Fuck,” he repeats, elongated the vowel as your pussy lightly squeezes him.

Above him, the air from your lungs releases from you in little sighs that creep into his ears and burrow in the folds of his brain. They are collected there. Remembered.

Using his grip on the back of your neck, Simon pulls you right back in, claiming your mouth. You open for him perfectly, your hips momentarily stalling as all your attention shifts to this one connection.

But Simon needs that movement. He craves it like the birds need the wind.

Wrapping his free arm around your waist, Simon flips you onto your back. There is no pause between the time Simon flips you and when he starts to thrust. It is instant. An impulse. A driving force that overcomes him.

Your fingers claw at his back, your legs hooking around the backs of his thighs, drawing him closer. If that is what you want, Simon will do it. Happily.

Pressing his forehead to yours, the two of you exchange breaths. The bed strikes the wall in repeated thuds, pleasure pooling in the base of Simon’s spine.

“Don’t—” You inhale. Exhale. “Stop.”

Growling, Simon presses his mouth to your neck, his pace increasing until his thrusting becomes an erratic, desperate thing. He hears you moaning, feels your pussy clenching down to keep him inside.

It’s too fucking much.

Simon’s own release roils up from the depths. His hips grind forward, creating a seal as he comes. His entire body shivers as one of your hands cradles his cheek. The touch is so soft he almost doesn’t recognize it at first.

But then you curl your fingers under his chin, guiding his face away from your neck to stare into your eyes. He starts to pull away, but your feet stay locked over the back of his legs, keeping him inside you.

Simon smirks.

He has you.

It might not be perfect or even solid, but he has his way in.

You haven’t said it, but you don’t need to.

You are his.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks @cinnabeanz @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

[justporo]

Killing you softly

Astarion thinks it's a good idea to challenge himself - with not touching you while you have control over him. And what he gets from that are pleasures beyond what he could've imagined. (NSFW)

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: We interrupt the winter fluff for some dirty smut. That's right - it's still smut Sunday - I blame certain Discord servers for influencing me! It's been quite a while though since I wrote full on smut, so here you go... Also lets not talk about how this became so long - I have no self control anymore.

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, talk of past trauma, bit of angst (if you squint), dom/sub dynamic, blood Wordcount: 5,8k ~~~

“Why would you want to do that? That sounds like absolute unfun, if you ask me”, you said to Astarion with furrowed brows.

The vampire was sitting on the edge of the bed while you were straddling his lap. Your hands were in his curls, your hips pressed to his in desperate need of feeling him as close as possible.

You had made that mistake again where you had leaned in for a kiss when you had been lounging in the living room together. Now you sat on the bed, eager to feel every inch of Astarion’s naked body against yours.

One could have asked when you would finally learn your lesson - but maybe this was a mistake you’d be happy to keep making.

Actually, you had planned to do a lot of other things. But it had ended how it so often did with Astarion: sweet kisses had become heated. His hand that had, at the start, only softly cupped your cheek had started to caress your jawline at first. Then his index finger had slowly wandered down your neck - along the line of your quickly heightening pulse - while his tongue had slipped in your mouth to make you forget everything but him.

And just like always it had worked wonderfully. You had easily fallen prey to his lure. Quickly the two of you had gotten up from where you had been comfortably sitting, tumbling up the stairs to your bedroom - to enjoy each other in the luxury of your gigantic bed.

The way there had taken you quite a while though. Especially since Astarion never seemed to be able to stop himself from pressing you against the nearest wall, making you moan helplessly while he pinned you there, enjoying how you writhed against his body. How you tried to wrap yourself around him fully while he felt the rising heat from your body. How he was ready to ignite you even more and then be consumed in the surely following inferno.

His hands had been wandering over your body - squeezing your butt, almost clawing down your back - while you had put one of your legs around his slender hips and with a groan had bucked your hips against him. You felt his growing arousal clearly. Clearly enough to make your lower stomach clench with need and throw your head back while you knew you must be soaking wet already.

You were truly amazed by how quickly that man could turn you into a mess with a few kisses, haughtily whispering into one of your pointy ears and letting his hands work his magic. It was almost like you had simply been made for him laying his hands upon you, your body welcoming him every time as if he’d been lost for an eternity and had only just returned - finding that you were still solely and truly his.

And all that was why you were even more surprised by his current proposition: with a somewhat cautious smile on his lips he had suggested to try and not touch you at all.

And that’s where you were at: Astarion still looking at you, rolling his tongue around his mouth while trying not to look too anxious and you were still taken aback by his unexpected proposal.

You leaned back a little while you were still straddling his hips - still on the edge of your bed. Your hands wandered from his hair down to his shoulders as you looked at him with a frown on your face, but didn’t know what to say.

“I’d like to challenge myself, darling, that’s all. Try new things - with you”, Astarion answered and angled his head while he looked at you. You saw the tinge of worry in his eyes now that you had voiced your concerns.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips.

Something about this rubbed you the wrong way. But you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it.

“Challenge yourself”, you parrotted flatly.

The vampire awkwardly shuffled around awkwardly and with that made you wiggle around a little on his lap. He avoided your gaze for a few moments before his crimson eyes found yours again: “I trust you fully, my love.”

His eyes were so open then and there, warm orange light from the lamp of the nightstand shining in them, pronouncing their ruby colour even more. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me”, he continued and the meaning of all this slowly settled in for you.

“Astarion”, you whispered softly and cupped his cheek while his eyes kept shining in the dim light - your chest clenched uncomfortably. But before you could say anything else, the vampire spoke again.

“I would surrender myself to you, my heart, give you free reign”, he proposed to you. His voice was firm but you saw his throat work, realised that he was in fact scared. You kept looking at him, pressing your lips into a line, not sure what to say about this proposition - you didn’t particularly like the way he was acting all of a sudden. Way too coy, not at all like his usual cocky self.

In fact, you didn’t like it at all, because you feared it was giving you an unprompted glimpse of a former self of the vampire. A time when he’d probably been in this position - and not of his own volition.

Just the thought alone made you gulp.

And it was almost as if he’d heard your thoughts. Like flipping a switch his signature smirk came back on with full force. Obviously trying to reassure you that everything was just dandy.

“Darling, most people would be more than amazed by a chance like that with me”, Astarion murmured sassily and leaned back on his hands while he threw you a sultry glance with a cocked eyebrow.

But he didn’t need to try anymore, you finally had a feeling you knew what he was trying to achieve. You wanted to indulge him, but you wanted to make a difference. And a plan had already started to form in your mind.

A smile crept onto your face - Astarion might not know it yet but he was in for a treat, you’d make sure of that.

You looked at your vampire as he noticed that your demeanour had changed. A small and careful grin stole onto his lips in anticipation.

Then you arched your back and rolled your neck and head around to loosen the muscles there while your hands pressed harder onto his shoulders. Astarion gasped a little when your hips were pressed even more firmly to his crotch and his erection and your torso and breasts were lifted against his chest with the way you stretched your body. You savoured the feeling of your curves pressing against the sharper lines of him.

When your head came back around you moved to hold his face in your hands, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his - kissing him ever so softly. Strands of your reddish-brown hair fell over your shoulder and onto Astarion as you leaned into him harder while he was still bracing himself on his arms behind him.

When one of his hands was trying to sneak its way around your waist to pull you even closer to him, you grabbed it and pressed it firmly to the mattress. Astarion broke the kiss, one eyebrow twitched, his red eyes were immediately ablaze. You looked back at him, licking your lips and eyes darkening.

Before he could say something, you embraced all the courage you had - and went headfirst.

“Astarion, if we're going to do this”, you started while you were still holding down his hand, your other still cupping his cheek. The way he gazed at you ignited something within you. His lips were still slightly parted and a bit swollen from kissing. Your eyes dropped to them as you rolled your hips again, making the vampire groan.

Then you faltered a little, just short of second-guessing yourself.

“Astarion, if we're going to do this, this won't be about you giving up control because you trust me to overwrite past memories”, you explained and saw how just a tiny bit of hurt flashed through his eyes. His plan, whether fully intentional or not, had been found out.

You quickly continued to get your point across: “If we're going to do this, this will be about you and you getting what you deserve, without the need to perform anything, my love.”

You saw how Astarion's lips parted even more, a small gasp leaving them and his eyes widening. But you saw the excitement in them when your words sunk in.

“And if you want to stop, tell me. Immediately, please”, you pleaded with him and the vampire nodded quickly in confirmation.

Then you let go of his hand and leaned back on his lap a little while the vampire mirrored you, supporting himself with his hands. His gaze wandered all over you. The bulge in his pants was very obviously visible, his cock straining against the fabric.

You looked at his face again and saw how he smiled at you seductively although you had just sealed the deal that you were to be the one putting on a show for him.

“Hit me then, love”, he murmured and licked over his lips and teeth - you could see his fangs glint in the dim, warm light. “I'm ready”, he whispered in a low voice, looking at you from under his brows.

And for some reason that set something off in you. Suddenly you felt very sure about all of this - oh, you'd give him what he deserved.

With your free hand you grabbed his erection that was so prominently placed between your two bodies and squeezed it - hard -, stroking upwards as much as the constraining material of his clothing would allow. The vampire's mouth opened helplessly, a strained sound leaving his lips, his eyes rolling around wildly.

Oh, so maybe not so ready after all. His reaction immediately made you more eager while sending delicious jolts of lust to your loins and the tips of your breasts.

You cocked your head to one side with an innocent, sweet smile and arched your back - showing off your boobs that lined out nicely against your shirt. And while Astarion eyed them hungrily, knowing he would only taste them by your grace and with his erection still firmly in your grasp, you squeezed his cock again. Much harder this time and you pleasantly moaned with him when he groaned breathlessly.

Definitely not ready for what was coming.

Your hand on his face wandered to his chin and your thumb pressed onto his bottom lip, dragging it down a little. Astarion's pupils widened immediately while you kept pressing and squeezing his hardened length through his pants. You felt it twitch under your caress, so you worked him harder, stroking him slowly and forcefully while his moans grew hoarser and you hummed contentedly.

The vampire began to pant heavily while you kept it up, chest heaving, head falling back, causing his lip to slip from under your thumb.

You allowed it and let your hand wander down his throat, exploring the soft naked skin there with your fingertips. Then you let your hand linger at the bottom of his neck, fingers splayed and applying just a hint of pressure while Astarion repeatedly moaned and praised you under his breath for your nimbly working fingers.

After a while of stroking him you noticed that your breathing was almost as ragged as his. You were biting your lip and felt that this - feeling how much your touches affected him - already had you desperately aroused. Lust was swirling around in your whole body and pulsating powerfully, basically throbbing, between your legs.

Being in this position was more titillating for you than you might have ever anticipated. You found you loved watching the vampire slowly unravel under your touch - it made you feel powerful. Not only because you had him curse all the gods for how well you stroked his cock but also for trusting you enough to forsake all deities in the first place - leaving you as the sole goddess in his book.

You desperately needed Astarion to know that: how ethereal he made you feel.

Your hand at his throat wrapped around it carefully but determined, almost like claws now, but still gentle ones at that.

The vampire's head snapped up again and he watched you pleadingly as you pulled him back to you with a moan that bordered on a whimper, pupils so wide there was almost nothing left of his ruby irises. His face was a mirror of desire and the heedless lust you felt, his mouth wide open, tongue almost already lolling out and canines glinting in the warm light.

It was obvious that at this point, would you have asked him to get to his knees and slobber you up like a dog would his most favourite meal, he would have done so eagerly and without hesitation, probably even barking in the process.

You let go of his hardness and wrapped your other arm around him to press his body against yours by pulling him in, almost making him crash into you. Your hand was clawing down his back more now. And then you pressed your open mouth to his to reward him with a kiss, tongue immediately entering his mouth - leaving him no room for questions. You just were the answer.

He greeted you eagerly but you were the one in charge - it was what he wanted tonight. And you would keep it that way.

You kissed him hard, tongue swirling around his, and then dragging along his teeth, making him moan again while a single drop of blood was drawn from you. Your taste on his tongue only making the vampire more feral for what you could give him - if you would allow it.

Then you felt how his arms were trying to wrap around you once more. Probably just muscle memory but this wasn't what you had agreed upon. You broke the kiss and squeezed with the hand around his throat and rolled your hips again, spreading your legs wider - forcefully.

“Behave”, you whispered pointedly as you looked at each other, both breathing heavily.

“You know it's hard with you”, Astarion whispered back in a rough, deep tone.

You chuckled once and rolled your hips again, trying to straddle him even harder than before. “Oh, I know it's hard, love”, you replied because you couldn't resist and tightened the hold on his neck a little more. The vampire let out a pleased and almost unbelieving pant.

“You're taking this on so easily, darling”, Astarion whispered as you could feel his erection twitch even through both of your clothes. His eyes looked like liquid now, molten - lust, need and awe swirling in it. He hadn’t been lying when he had pledged to surrender himself to you.

Instead of replying you quickly moved and shoved him so he lost balance and fell backwards onto the bed. For a moment you just watched him: splayed out before you so willingly and eagerly. It was a sight to behold for sure. And from the look of it, it seemed from Astarion’s point of view it was as well. You were already sure this was altering something essential within the both of you.

The vampire was grinning teasingly at you when you couldn’t rip your eyes from him - and then he bucked his hips swiftly.

Caught utterly by surprise, you almost fell onto him, but caught yourself as you heard his haughty laughter. Even with his own proposition, he was still being sassy.

In response, you grabbed his wrists and then pressed them down on the mattress next to each side of his head while you leaned forward, supporting yourself on your elbows. You moved in as if you were going to kiss him and stopped just out of reach, moving your head from side from side as you gazed upon him. The pale elf eyed you back as he was being held captive by you. All this was a far cry from where you had started indulging in each other - he might’ve never been more with you than in this very moment.

Astarion was enjoying all of this so much already. He would enjoy it even more very soon.

“What did I tell you, you naughty vampire?”, you whispered so close to Astarion’s mouth, that your lips almost touched his.

The vampire went to reply something with a smug grin but you just used the opportunity to bite into his full bottom lip and drag on it with your teeth. Astarion’s words immediately caught in his throat and he grunted from the pleasurable pain.

You didn’t give him time to recover then. Since seemingly the only way to get him to cooperate was to positively overwhelm him.

You quickly moved in for another passionate kiss and just as Astarion was getting into it, you broke away again - leaving him to simply whimper and mourn the loss of your touch. You placed your hands on his shoulders, letting go of his wrists.

Arching your back once more and sitting up straight you dragged your hands from his shoulders down his torso, over the bulge in his pants and then up your own body. As you passed it you grabbed the hem of your shirt and dragged it upwards. The vampire meanwhile was too hypnotised by your wandering hands now to be sassy. You dragged your boobs up with your shirt, softly squishing them as you teasingly moved slower and slower the closer you came to taking off your shirt fully.

You held the two of you at this edge of tension for a moment. And when you finally let your breasts jig down, you heard the soft gasps from your partner while you pulled your shirt over your head.

You saw the yearning look on Astarion’s face as he realised again he wasn’t going to get to touch you, toy with your boobs, let his fingertips tease your already hardened nipples, tease the sensitive bud between your legs with his long, delicate fingers. But you surely would make up for that, maybe even treat him if he behaved from now on.

But just for the moment you demonstrated to him what he had forfeited: you grabbed your tits and firmly squeezed them while you let your head fall back with a lustful moan, then let a hand wander down over your stomach and dip beneath the waistline of your pants, stroking yourself for a few pleasurable moments. And when you looked at your vampire again, you saw how he watched you, biting his lip hard with one fang showing. Carnal hunger was consuming him more with every single one of your passing actions. And you delighted in it more than you had thought possible.

Then you put him out of his misery.

From his thighs you let your hands slide over his chiselled upper body dragging his shirt up in the process. And then you immediately followed the revealed skin with your mouth, eagerly kissing and licking up over Astarion’s smooth, pale skin.

He thanked you with continued gasps and moans that became more desperate the more time you took. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw that his hands were clenching in the sheets, bunching them up since now they didn’t have your body to hold and caress. You could see how his knuckles had visibility turned white from all the force despite his already pale skin.

When you had almost pulled up his shirt entirely, you let your teeth graze over his skin too and especially paid attention to his collarbone with the tip of your tongue while you made a point to look your lover straight into the eyes. Broadly pressing your tongue in the dip at the bottom of his neck, you licked up the line of his throat that Astarion rewarded with a sharp intake of breath while he leaned his head back. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

Besides the lust and carnal need in them, his eyes were so open and vulnerable while being so full with anticipation and admiration as well. You realised he really did trust you fully - and you would do your best to honour that.

You made him shrug off his shirt and threw it after your own. Almost jumping onto his lap again, you dragged on his wrists so he would move up his torso. He quickly obeyed and lifted himself up, fire burning in his red eyes.

You grabbed hold of Astarion’s jaw again and looked him straight in the eye as you presented him with a gift: “You may touch me - until I tell you to stop.”

The vampire’s eyes widened happily. He needn’t be told twice. He wrapped his arms around you, dragged his fingers over your spine while the other immediately squeezed your butt and lifted you a little to drag you closer and make your core rub along his hard cock. His eyes rolled almost into the back of his skull as for the moment he was allowed to enjoy the sensation of caressing you again. You sighed and let him drag up your hips again, basically making you ride him despite the fact that you were both still clothed from the waist down.

You pressed your tits into his face and he immediately took the hint to suck on them sloppily, teasing the tips with his tongue and teeth, making you exhale sharply as you clawed into his shoulders to hold on. He was so eager to please now and to make the most out of the touches you had allowed.

“Indulge yourself, I beg of you”, you offered him in addition as you felt one of his canines tease the soft skin on your breasts. When you looked down at his face you saw how his gaze glinted predatorily at you and without breaking eye contact he sank his fangs into your flesh, drawing small tendrils of blood. You cried out and your nails dragged over his shoulder blades, almost drawing blood yourself.

He sucked on your breasts, tasting your blood while your whole body tensed from the cold, sharp pain scratching through your body and heightening your pleasure even further.

You allowed the vampire to enjoy himself freely for a few moments more before you withdrew yourself from him, telling him stop. With a bit of reluctance he let  you go although frustration flashed over his face. But this was the price: you gave and you took away - but always with his pleasure in mind.

“Good boy”, you complimented his obedient behaviour and saw how he delighted in being praised. You quickly kneeled on the bed again, but only to give him another shove: “Now lay down!”

You watched to see if he would keep behaving and then slid down from the bed so you could first take off your pants and then immediately move onto his. You dragged them down Astarion’s slender hips, while the vampire scurried to help you free him of his constricting clothes. Such an eager little pup again now.

Then you took another moment to look at Astarion in all his glory. He was still only half laying on the bed, holding himself up on his elbows, one leg up and angled on the mattress. His hair was tousled profusely and you saw some soft red scratch marks that you had left on his shoulders -  and of course Astarion’s hardened length showed you just how much he was enjoying all this. He looked up at you with slightly parted lips, more anticipation in his eyes and some of your blood still covering them until his tongue darted out to lick it away.

You bit your lip as you took him in for a moment longer. He mirrored you, his expression surely just as obviously showing his need for you.

Desperately, you were tempted to just jump right to the point where you would both lose yourself and drift up to the stars together. But you didn’t want to be quick about this. In fact, you wanted to take it as slow as you’d be able to, make Astarion slowly but surely lose his mind in the process.

So you better got back to work to make it happen.

The both of you were now already way too worked up to throw in playful banter - there were only gasps and heavy breathing and the thundering of your beating heart in your ears. You motioned Astarion to move up on the bed and as he moved backwards you immediately prowled after him on your hands and knees.

You saw how the pale elf’s eyes were filled - not with fear - but something that looked somewhat similar: impatient anticipation and admiring surprise. Seemingly both of you were pleasantly overwhelmed by how much each of you were enjoying yourself in this reversal of the roles.

Agonisingly slowly you climbed onto the bed while you kept looking at your vampire. Your hair fell over your shoulder, long, soft strands fanning out and covering part of your face as you were making your way up over your prey. And you didn’t stop until you were fully hovering above Astarion. The longest strands of your hair were lazily dragging over the vampire’s chest who looked at you in awe and admiration.

You looked at him, the perfect lines of his face and body and the warm and loving soul you knew lay beneath it all. Love overwhelmed you, filled every fibre of your being as you kept observing him. The person you’d give anything for in an instance.

And even more than that: you know he felt the same for you without a doubt. You saw it mirrored in those crimson eyes that held yours with such longing. And you knew it. Deep in your soul you both knew you belonged to each other. That this was more than just a carnal, material need, so much more.

And he deserved the world. But for tonight, you would start by trying to give him some pleasures that had been twisted and tainted for him for way too long.

“I love you, Astarion”, you whispered breathlessly and then went back to kissing him, shortly feeling a coppery tang on his lips and tongue from the blood he’d taken from you. You took your time now and thus made him slow down too while your hands wandered over his shoulders, chest, arms. The kiss became almost painfully slow, the way your tongues twirled around each other, savouring each other.

You dragged your mouth down his throat after that, caressing his skin messily and eagerly by kissing and sucking, pressing your upper body to his now, so your breasts were deliciously squished against his naked chest. Slowly, you made your way down his chiselled upper body, over his stomach, dragging your boobs over his soft skin, drawing muffled sounds of pleasure from him. All while your hands wandered down his arms until they reached his hands.

You entwined your fingers with his then - for this next part he might have need for at least something to hold onto. Lifting yourself up again you had almost reached your desired destination, kneeling now between his spread legs. His eyes did not leave yours for a moment as you lowered your lips to his erect cock and without further warning took him into your mouth.

You kept looking at him as you took him deeper. His hands clawed into yours and his back arched while you sucked on his dick and let your tongue swirl around it. Astarion’s eyes were filled with desperate need - the likes of which you had never seen with him. The vampire was really grasping onto all you offered and threw himself into the pleasures you blessed him with - headfirst.

And while you mainly focused on Astarion’s pleasure you felt how all this really did a number on you as well. Knowing how much pleasure you could give him heightened your own enjoyment immensely. You already knew that it wouldn’t take long once you would close in on that edge to jump off of.

You felt the tension in the pale elf’s body rise, felt how his grip on your hands became tighter when you took him to the hilt - the only moments when you had to take your gaze off his because subtle tears sprang to your eyes.

He kept whispering your name now - like a mantra, not sure if it was meant to save or doom him. His back arched harder, you felt that he was almost losing control.

But you weren’t done yet, you still had more steps in your plan. So, licking up his shaft a final time, you detangled your fingers from his.

As you moved up again you saw how his cock was glistening from your spit in the low light and you heard how he softly whimpered, caused by the sudden loss of your touch and the unbearable need for release.

But he didn’t need to wait long. You moved up until you were straddling him again and took his length into your hand, working him for a couple moments as you caught his gaze again. Obviously Astarion had a good idea of what your next step would be and had put his arms up over his head to brace himself against the headboard - or to give his hands something else to hold onto for this next part - since your hips wouldn’t be an option.

You positioned yourself over him and dragged the tip of his cock along the heat of your slick core. That alone caused Astarion to groan and buck his hips into your hand. His eyes rolled back so far you almost only saw the white in them now. The breathless grunts that left his mouth were so desperate now - almost begging you without words.

The muscles in his arms were tensing up so much, you could see clearly defined lines now. He looked at you, face contorted by lust. His brows were drawn together in a pleading expression. You could see it took him all of his remaining focus to utter his next words.

“You’re more than I could have ever hoped for”, he pressed out while his chest was rising and falling heavily. “More than I deserve.”

Breathlessly you shook your head, causing him to draw his brows together again - but now in confusion.

“I am exactly what you deserve, my love”, you whispered back as you positioned his hardened length at your core and took him fully in one swift movement.

And suddenly it was your moment to arch your back when electricity ran through your whole body while a loud moan enriched with his name left your lips. You delighted in the sensation of how he felt inside you.

And quite obviously so did Astarion when he cried out your name and let out another curse aimed at the gods that had forsaken him so long ago. In their stead you reigned supreme now.

You began to move, lifting yourself up a little and shifting your hips while you withdrew almost fully from him. Astarion supported you by angling his hips to give you more leverage. Immediately, you felt what you had feared: it wouldn’t take you long now. Then you let your hips slam down again, clenching your core, causing the both of you to inhale sharply.

You started moving continuously. But even though you tried to move in a slow and steady pace you quickly felt yourself lose control. Astarion’s body beneath you was tense as a bow string while his groans became louder and shaky in nature.

You lifted one arm over your head, drawing up your hair while the rhythm of your movements became quicker, harder. Your other hand went down to where your bodies met, working on your most sensitive part, putting in some small effort to push you along with your partner - to be ready to join him.

Astarion kept observing you and drank you in - all this at least as delicious as the blood he had tasted from you. He kept bracing himself while his body tensed more and more.

The way you rode him became almost savage while the vampire tried to steady you bringing the both of you right up to the side of the cliff - and then off it.

The moment Astarion came you saw how he lost himself - you watched his undoing. Unwillingly, his eyes went from yours to the heavens as he pressed out your name and his whole body arched towards you while you felt him twitch inside you.

And immediately after, you too felt how waves of electric pleasure overran you, making you quiver and shake, positively causing you to see stars and blur your vision.

Together you got fully lost in the moment.

And it wasn’t even all about the carnal urges you felt for each other right now but about the deep primal need not to be alone, to tangle together until your hearts, bodies and minds were indistinguishable from each other.

And you surely weren’t alone as you were both taken up to the stars rapidly and then only slowly, comfortably drifted down again.

You’d had to close your eyes in these final moments as pleasure overwhelmed you, but when you opened them now, you were met with the loving gaze of Astarion.

Both your bodies relaxed and you carefully climbed off him, only to sink onto his chest again. You were still breathing heavily and not fully capable of stringent thoughts when you suddenly felt the vampire’s arms around you.

“Thought no touching?”, you babbled breathlessly while you still felt the afterwaves of your high. But you welcomed his comforting, caring embrace and his careful caresses.

“I do not believe you have the power within you right now to fight me about it, darling”, Astarion whispered back, almost as breathless as you. He too was still coming down slowly from where you’d just been thrown. But he already had enough energy in him once more to grace you with his signature smirk again.

“Maybe… Maybe I’ve also had enough of this challenge for one night”, you answered and heard the vampire softly laugh in response while he squeezed you comfortingly and you felt relieved to be held again.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, suddenly feeling the desperate need to just be close to him, to feel him skin on skin. Just to lay there. Until you would feel the boundaries between your bodies blur, not knowing where your body stopped and his began.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 23]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.2k

ao3 link

Matt’s eyes flutter shut as you smooth your thumbs over his forehead. The urge to press forward into your touch is nearly overwhelming, but he controls himself. Your fingers run down his temple and to the apples of his cheeks, oh so gently rubbing sunblock into his skin. He doesn’t remember the last time he used the product, but his sweet Minnie demanded he wear it, and who is he to deny his daughter on her birthday?

You are in complete Mom mode - focused on making sure all his exposed skin is covered - so you don’t realize how intimate you are being with him. He wants so badly to reach out and touch you back - to hold your waist and rub your arms and feel you against him. It is far from the first time he’s felt this and mentally repeating the Lord’s Prayer helps him keep his thoughts from straying. 

Especially when your fingers dance down to his neck. 

He may or may not have fantasies about you pressing your hand into his windpipe while riding him. He may or may not have finally given into his mother’s pressures about talking to the new priest because he was beginning to feel guilty about how often he may or may not have touched himself to those fantasies. 

Matt wants so badly to show you how much he loves you, but you aren’t ready for it yet, and he understands. You’ve accepted him for who he is and what he does. You want to know more and aren’t accusatory when you ask questions. You’ve been snatched up into his whirlwind of a life and are adjusting in a way he didn’t think was possible, but you are still adjusting and he’s not going to push more onto you. 

You’ve been slow to accept physical gestures and as much as it pains him, he’s happy to go at your pace. He cherishes each moment you let him hold you and his heart soars when you are the one to initiate it. You don’t flinch or pull back when he rests a hand on your hip or back. Slow and steady wins the race and if you want to stroll, he’ll stroll right along with you.

“All done,” you say, breaking him from his thoughts as you step away. “We shouldn’t be out here long enough that we will need to reapply.”

“Thank you,” he replies. He puts his glasses back on and he follows your movements as you put the sunscreen back in your purse. “Do you need help with anything?”

The second phase of Minnie’s Birthday Bash Weekend - after her princess breakfast and makeover - is the Park Party. Multiple blankets have been laid out for everyone to sit on and the wagon is filled to the brim with supplies - there’s a drink cooler, a snack cooler, a series of toys Minnie insisted they add so no one gets bored, and tucked in the corner, unopened presents they picked up from Sister Maggie. Foggy showed up early so he could enjoy the walk to the park with the birthday girl and Karen and Frank should be arriving soon. 

Matt knows you are going to fuss over the details and try to play Good Host, and he wants you to relax and have a good time instead. 

But sometimes, he thinks fussing is your idea of fun. You make a shooing motion at him and there is a bit of a laugh in your voice when you tell him, “Go play with your daughter.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Foggy and Minnie are on the sidewalk, setting up her newest toy. Fog got Mouse some sort of pogo stick for toddlers and from her excited explanation to him, it is pink and princess themed. Matt has no idea how a pogo stick for toddlers could possibly work - Minnie can barely balance on one leg - but you seemed to have no issue with the device, so he chalks it up to having missed something in the explanation that would be obvious to a sighted person. 

“Okay, squirt. Go ahead and step on,” Foggy tells Minnie. Matt can sense some sort of small platform that his little one steps onto, then she is being handed something that reminds him of a bike handle. “Okay. Try jumping.”

Mouse jumps straight up, and to his surprise, the little platform bounces when it hits the ground again, sending her back up about half an inch. That seems like more than enough height for her, as she lets out an absolutely delighted scream and quickly starts to repeat the motion. 

She bounces four times before she loses her balance and falls off the platform, but Matt doesn’t even get the chance to step forward to help her. She’s right back on and jumping in place - beaming ear to ear. 

“Look at you go!” Foggy cooes and Matt can’t help but grin. “You are a little hopping machine!”

“Hop! Hop! Hop!” Mouse cheers as she does just that. “Hop! Hop! Hop!”

“Hop! Hop! Hop!” Both he and Fog echo, and they are on the same wavelength, because they both mimic her by bouncing on the balls of their feet. 

Matt can sense you aiming your phone at Mouse, most likely taking a picture or filming them, so he quickly prompts her, hoping for a cute moment. “Sweetie, what do you say to Foggy?”

“Thank you, Froggy, you are the bestest!” 

“You are very welcome, birthday girl!” Fog, of course, quickly turns to Matt to jokingly rub in, “Hear that, Murdock? I’m the bestest.” 

Minnie stumbles again and Matt realizes she will not need help unless she trips and falls to the ground. She’s back to bouncing within a second and defending his honor. 

“You’re the bestest, but Daddy’s Super Bestest and Mommy is Super-Duper Bestest.”

Foggy must pull a face, because both you and Minnie laugh before he gives in, “Okay, I will allow this because it is your birthday. But no take backsies. I’m the bestest.”

“No take backsies!” Mouse quickly parrots before turning her attention back to her toy. She dissolves into giggles as she jumps up and down and he can only imagine how big her smile must be.

He takes a moment to focus in on one of the gifts he got her. He didn’t get called Bestest for it, but Matt hopes it will be something she grows to cherish. He spent a pretty penny to get it custom made as he was incredibly particular about the quality, but it was more than worth it - a gold heart necklace with ‘I love you’ in Braille on one side, and on the other, the date he found out she existed. 

He knows she can’t always wear it - it is a choking hazard until she’s older - but right now it is bumping against her manubrium and he can’t help but smile and reach to fiddle with the bracelet hanging on his wrist. 

It has become almost like a rosary to him. When he’s thinking, he finds himself pulling the beads up to go around his hand and he will thumb at them, tracing over the hearts his sweet Minnie gave him. The only time he doesn’t wear it is when he’s out on Patrol - and that is only because he’s scared he’ll end up breaking it. Otherwise, he has it on - asleep, in the shower, in court - Matt proudly wears his friendship bracelet.

Of course, no one is none the wiser to his private moment. Foggy continues to encourage Mouse to bounce and enjoy her gift. Matt is pretty sure this is one of the toys she is going to run into the ground because she uses it so much. 

“Hey, Fog, where did you get this thing?” 

“Online,” his friend quickly replies. “I’ll send you the link. One of the Littles got one for their birthday and loved it, so I went with a peer-reviewed product instead of trying my luck on something unknown.”

“I didn’t even know this existed,” you say from your spot on the blankets. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Foggy says with an uptick in his voice, indicating he is smiling. “But I’ll warn you, some of them come with a squeaker in them. I hunted for the one without one. I wanted to take pity on the bat-ears.”

Matt throws back his head as he laughs and concedes, “Okay, maybe you are the Bestest.”

“I knew it!”

“Froggy is the bestest! Froggy is the bestest! Froggy is the bestest!” Minnie starts to chant as she plays. Foggy joins her and Matt claps along for a moment. 

You laugh at them, and it is one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard - it is you actually being truly happy.

The joy is cut short, and it morphs into panic when Minnie very suddenly drops her pogo stick and takes off running towards the other side of the park. Her movements are so quick and erratic that Matt doesn’t react right away, having not anticipated them. You scramble up to chase her just as he begins to move to do the same.

“Minnie! Come back here!” You shout as you hurry after your daughter.

Matt opens up his senses, needing to know what has Minnie so excited that it overrode her being the shy little angel he’s used to. He zeroes in on it instantly.

Karen, Frank, and Frank’s dog Max have just arrived, parking on the street outside the green space. Minnie is making a beeline right towards them, but luckily, her little legs are no match for Matt and he scoops her up before she can get too far from their picnic. She instantly begins to struggle against him, flailing and kicking and trying her best to fight his hold, but he turns her around and forces her onto his hip. 

“Minnie, you cannot run off!” he chastises as you catch up to them. “You know better than that. You know you need to stay with us.”

“It’s Mister Frank and he has a doggie!” She tries to explain, clearly excited and overly enthusiastic, but Matt won’t be swayed. “I gotta go say hi to him! And asks if I can play with his doggie! I’ve never played with a doggie! I wanna play with the doggie!”

“It’s dangerous to just run off. You have to ask Mommy or me first.” Matt tells her. He’s trying to remain calm, but the fear from her just running away is still in his system. He knows he can’t yell or scold her - it’s her special day and she just got too excited, but he needs her to know that isn’t okay.

Luckily, you seem to know how to handle this.

“No running off,” you emphasize, putting your hand on her back and almost crowding her into Matt, which he is more than okay with. “Part of being a Big Girl is knowing the rules. If you can’t follow the rules, what happens?”

Minnie deflates against him, all her jubilation evaporating, and guilt pools in his chest as his precious little baby mumbles out, “We go home.”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t wanna go home. I wanna play with Froggy more and Mister Frank and his doggie.” 

You reach up to push some of her hair out of her face and gently comfort her, “we’re not going to go home. But you gotta be good, okay? Mister Frank and Karen are coming to us. You don’t have to run to them, okay?”

“Okay.”

It seems like Minnie will not bolt if Matt sets her down, so he takes that chance. She fusses with smoothing out her princess dress for a moment and patting it free of any dust before looking up at you, “When he gets close can I go say hi? Please? Please? Please?”

She asks so sweetly it is a miracle you don’t cave immediately. You put your hands on your hips as you pretend to think over your answer. After a few moments, you reply, “When he gets as close to us as we are to Froggy, you can go say hi.”

Minnie whips around to judge the distance - she had only gotten about thirty or forty feet before Matt caught her - before turning back. She literally bounces from foot to foot as she waits for Frank and Karen to get close enough that she can run to them and that helps to dissipate the lingering guilt he has. He defaults to you to give the ‘okay’ signal, and when you do, Minnie takes off again at a speed he didn’t think toddlers could achieve. 

“Mister Frank! Mister Frank! It’s my birthday!” she yells as she streaks towards him. 

Matt isn’t exactly keen on Minnie’s excitement for Frank, but he accepts the man is entering his circle more now that he and Karen are in a relationship. When they aren’t butting heads about the morality of killing, he thinks he and Frank get along well enough. They take jabs at each other and even if it can be scathing, neither of them takes it personally. Danger follows Frank and Matt is acutely aware of that, but he also has some je ne sai quoi with kids and Minnie is not immune to it. 

You and Matt follow after your daughter while Frank passes off Max’s leash to Karen so he can catch the toddler rocket coming right at him. The Devil in Matt’s chest growls with jealousy and possessiveness when Frank picks Mouse up to hold her without any shyness from his little one and she’s tossed slightly up into the air.

“It’s your birthday? Well, it’s a good thing we got all those presents in the truck, then, ain’t it, Karen?”

“I wonder who they could be for,” Karen teases and Minnie turns into a giggling mess, hiding her hands in her face.

“Are they for me?” She asks, so sweet and genuine and not at all greedy. Matt’s heart glows with how pure his daughter is, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it.

“It is your birthday,” Frank tells her and that just makes her more delighted.

“I’m getting so many presents! Mommy gave me presents and Daddy gave me presents and Froggy gave me presents and Froggy’s Mommy gave me presents AND…and Daddy’s Mommy gave me presents. That’s like…” She pauses and lifts up her hands in front of her face and Matt thinks she must be trying to count. Finally, she decides on a number, “That’s like twelve presents!”

She certainly received more than twelve presents from you alone - there were so many components to her new kitchen set - but he knows everyone understands what she means. Minnie is being absolutely spoiled for her birthday. 

“That is a lot of presents!” Karen cooes, “You aren’t tired from opening them all?”

“Not uh! I’m a Big Girl!” 

“We can have a second round of opening presents after the park,” you inform Minnie and even without his enhanced hearing, he can tell you are smiling - you sound so happy. “We can have cake at home, and you can show everyone what you got.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Frank says, bouncing Mouse in his arms a little. “What do you say, Princess?”

She nods eagerly, “A good plan!” 

You all begin to walk back towards the picnic - and Foggy, who has relocated the pogo stick to the blankets - and Minnie gets to the next order of business. 

“Can I pet your doggie?” 

Max seems to know he’s being talked about, as he starts making little noises and adding a wiggle to his walk. Matt has met the dog a few times now and even he admits the animal is a sweet one, especially for an ex-fighting dog. He knows that Frank didn’t keep Max initially, but when he resettled in New York a few months ago, the dog also reappeared. Matt doesn’t question it - he thinks caring for the dog is good for Frank and Karen absolutely adores him. 

“Do you know how to pet a dog?” Frank asks, amusement clear in his voice.

Minnie shakes her head, but as always, has a solution, “No, but I can learns! Mommy says…Mommy says when we don’t know something, we can learn it by askings! I can asks my tablet!” She pauses, then dramatically slaps her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t have my tablet, its at home.” 

They all laugh at her antics and as they approach their picnic, Frank sets Minnie down, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I can teach you. And I can show you how to play fetch, too.”

Karen goes to hug Foggy a hello, while you and she start to strike up a conversation catching up. Matt decides to allow you the time to have an adult moment, and he keeps his attention on Minnie, Frank, and Max. 

“Before you can pet him, you need to introduce yourself,” Frank starts, moving to sit down on the blankets as he does. Minnie plops down beside him and Matt takes a seat beside her. “You need to hold out your hand so he can sniff it. He can’t talk, so he gets to know you through smell.”

He demonstrates by holding out his hand to Max. The dog snuffles at it, then begins to lick at Frank, his tail starting to wag. Matt can practically feel Minnie analyzing what is happening, then after a moment, she sticks her little hand out towards Max. The dog clearly gets excited by this and turns his big head towards his daughter. He could so very easily bite off her whole arm - Minnie is small for her age and Max is a big dog - but instead he oh so gently presses his nose to her skin before giving it a tiny lick. 

“He likes me!” Minnie says in a whisper-gasp and Matt tries his best to not laugh. 

“He does, he wants to be your friend,” Frank tells her.

“I wanna be his friend, too!” She declares before mimicking Max by leaning in and sniffing at him loudly. He can’t hold back his amusement when she sticks out her tongue with a, “He’s stinky!”

“He’s a dog, all dogs stink,” Frank laughs, “but he’s still a good dog.”

“How do I pets him?” Mouse asks, obviously so very excited and wanting to learn how to pet Max correctly. 

Matt leans back and observes as Frank gently guides his daughter’s hands, showing her where to pet the sweet dog. He hopes this doesn’t lead to her wanting her own puppy - though she will probably spend a fair amount of time pretending Scooby is a real dog instead of her companion in trouble. 

Matt has never wanted a dog before - mostly because it has always been pitched as a guide dog and he doesn’t need one - but he wonders if his mind would change if you wanted a dog. He knows it isn’t possible in your current apartment, but what if you moved to somewhere bigger? Where Minnie could have her own bedroom and maybe you could have your own yard. 

Where, maybe, he could move in with you, and you could be a proper, traditional family. He could be with you - provide for you like he should have always been doing. He could sleep in your bed at night and tell you he loves you in the morning. Where he could tuck Minnie in before he goes on Patrol and he could learn all her Quiet Games.

Where he could protect his family.

Where he could have something he’s always wanted.

Where maybe, just maybe, Matt Murdock could finally have a home. 

--

a/n:

Every one say Happy Birthday to the Birthday girl!

part one of the birthday weekend. Sorry it is a little short We have another birthday day chapter after this then Minnie gets her Zoo Trip!

--

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath 

 @allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

 @nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird  @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare 

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

@

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

[roses-for-rosalyn]

Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

Part 2

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception. 

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle. 

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door. 

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly. 

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out. 

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest. 

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady. 

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost. 

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman. 

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone. 

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand. 

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.” 

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble. 

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.” 

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out. 

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off. 

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

**  **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient. 

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.  

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus. 

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again. 

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you. 

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke. 

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk. 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart. 

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late. 

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.” 

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?” 

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana. 

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse. 

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana. 

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..” 

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?” 

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again. 

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect. 

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it. 

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town. 

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are. 

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed. 

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?” 

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly. 

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!” 

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food. 

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames. 

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?” 

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?” 

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it. 

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl. 

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.” 

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside. 

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you. 

“Maybe.” You call back. 

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.  

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?” 

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?” 

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six” 

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off” 

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man. 

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine. 

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth. 

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable. 

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar. 

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar. 

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain. 

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?” 

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer” 

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things. 

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Part 2 >>

[roosterr]

love you from afar

note: this has been in my drafts since MARCH. can't decide whether i like it or not lol. @wetsocksinbed angsty fic is up next >:)

pairing: john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader

wc: 9.5k (oops)

summary: you receive a series of mysterious gifts from a mysterious admirer.

warnings: longing, yearning, pining, best friends to lovers trope, idiots in love, heavy on the idiots part, tooth-rotting fluff

ao3

over the last two weeks, you’ve noticed some odd things happening around you; a good kind of odd, the kind that left you thoroughly confused, but was heartwarming nonetheless.

after going back and forth with it in your mind, you've come to the conclusion that you have a secret admirer. it was odd, and a little hard to believe, but it was the only option that made any sense to you. in all honesty, it was probably just your hopeless-romantic heart clouding your mind with optimism, but one can dream.

the first incident was harmless enough, a small inconspicuous gesture that was so subtle, in fact, that you barely paid it any notice at first.

it was the dead of night, and you’d just returned from a particularly gruelling solo mission, uninjured but bone tired and desperate to collapse into your bed and finally sleep. before you could fall into the blankets, however, you noticed through the darkness of your room something strange.

resting neatly on your pillow, illuminated by the dim light of your phone screen, was a single bar of your favourite chocolate. you didn’t remember buying it, and certainly didn’t remember leaving it there, but it was exactly the kind of pick-me-up you needed after the day you’d had. at the time, you’d chalked it up to you simply being forgetful, devoured the chocolate in record time, and promptly knocked out.

over breakfast the next morning, you'd recounted to the others the mysterious appearing chocolate as a funny anecdote; the five of you had laughed about your terrible memory, and you'd moved on. but now you weren’t on the verge of blacking out, you couldn’t help but think of it as weird.

for the life of you, you couldn’t remember buying the chocolate bar, and it didn’t make sense that you would leave it on your pillow like that. what did make sense, however bizarre it may seem, was someone else leaving it for you – but you had no idea who would do that for you, or why. either way, you didn't imagine that anything else would come from it.

the next incident happened three days later.

during training that afternoon, you were in the middle of running laps around base, when you’d – stupidly – tripped over a ditch in the ground and rolled your ankle pretty badly. it hurt too much to put any weight on it, so you’d sat there in shame with no choice but to wait for a few minutes until gaz and soap caught up to you.

as they rounded the corner, you'd reluctantly waved them over with a grimace at how your ankle was throbbing in your boot. johnny was immediately crouching by your side, abandoning the idea of training to focus completely on you.

"christ, what happened?" he fussed, worry creasing his face and making your own heat up under the attention.

"i tripped…" you mumbled, dragging a hand over your embarrassed expression. it was bad enough that you'd made such a simple mistake, but now the man you were crushing on, hard, was lifting your leg so gently and untying your laces and you were certain you were moments away from cardiac arrest.

he'd ushered gaz away to continue his run, telling him he'd accompany you to the infirmary with a tone that left no room for argument. not that gaz would've, the knowing look he sent you as he jogged away told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

after making sure nothing was broken, soap had pulled you to stand with an arm around your waist, supporting you with his solid frame when you stumbled. 

"sure y'don't want me to carry you?" he'd teased, earning a laugh from you as you wobbled in his arms. as you chuckled though, you noticed a hint of what seemed like sincerity in his eyes. you'd felt your face burning again at the implication that he really would carry you, if that's what you'd wanted, and quickly started dragging him along with you in an attempt to hide your flustered state. 

he'd kept his arm around your waist the entire way to the medical wing, only releasing you when you were sat in front of the doctor, which did absolutely nothing to calm your racing heart. to your dismay, he couldn't stay with you – you were still in the middle of training, after all. 

"you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" he'd asked as he left, and the concern in his eyes almost finished you off. you were almost glad he didn't stick around to see the effect he had on you.

luckily, after a quick inspection, the doctor concluded that you only had a minor sprain, and you'd be good as new in a couple of weeks. she'd sent you on your way with an ice pack, a crutch, and strict instructions to stay off your feet.

you would've gone back outside to watch the boys (mainly soap) finish the rest of their exercises, but honestly, the embarrassment of what happened had you wanting to curl up with a pillow over your face for the rest of the day; so that's exactly what you found yourself doing.

you must've drifted off to sleep at some point, because once you finally sat up again, the sun had painted the horizon a bright orange, and your stomach had begun to rumble.

as you went to walk out into the hall, you heard the crinkle of plastic under your boot, pausing you mid‐step. when you looked down, you were stunned to find a bundle of three beautiful white flowers – gardenias, you'd found out after googling them later. an incredibly warm feeling blossomed in your chest, and despite your best efforts, your eyes had welled up with tears. you couldn't even think of the last time someone bought you flowers. there was no note attached, meaning you had no way of knowing who had left them for you, which sent your mind back to the chocolate bar from a few days ago.

so i'm not going crazy, you'd thought to yourself, someone really did leave it for me. but still, you had no clue who this mystery gift-giver could be.

you'd carefully picked them up, being mindful of your ankle, and turned back around to put them in your room. there wasn't really anywhere to put them, so you just set them on the ledge of your windowsill and made a mental note to find a vase for them at some point.

when you eventually made it to the mess hall, there were very few people left, leaving the room unusually calm. ghost was sat by himself at one of the far tables, so you hobbled over on your crutch to sit with him while you ate.

you sat down opposite him, and he'd looked up, gave you a subtle nod, and gone back to eating with his eyes fixed on the table in front of him. the two of you ate like that for a while, sitting quietly in each others presence.

ghost had been the first to break the silence, asking you, "how's the ankle?" as he pulled his balaclava back down to cover his mouth.

"just sprained," you'd replied, looking up to meet his eyes. another beat of silence fell over you, before you continued, "did you see who left me those flowers?" you'd asked him; it was worth a shot, you figured not much gets past ghost. to your dismay, he simply shook his head, standing and mumbling a goodbye as he left.

you were only more confused now. if ghost didn't know who it was – and, granted, you wouldn't actually be able to tell if he was lying, but you trusted him – then who would know? the next day, you'd asked the other boys, but they'd all said the same thing, even the captain. so you were left with nothing to do but wonder who on earth could be leaving you these gifts.

after that, it was another four days until your secret admirer struck again.

you'd been in and out of briefings and debriefings and meetings all day, your mind was beginning to numb with all the information that had been unloaded. you were tired; not quite the same exhaustion you'd felt coming back from your mission earlier in the week, though, this time you were at the end of your rope mentally. there hadn't been a moments peace since you got out of bed, and once that excruciatingly long day was over and you were relaxing in the common room, you'd had no energy to actually engage with your friends.

you were nestled into one end of the sofa with gaz next to you, ghost on his other side, and soap in the armchair with a small book in his hands. they were all chatting, with you occasionally saying a thing or two, but you were mostly just zoned out with their conversation serving as white noise in the background.

occasionally, you'd look up and catch soap already watching you, but he'd quickly turn his gaze back down to his book. his attention caused you to be equal parts flustered and confused. if you'd been any more awake, you probably would've asked him if something was wrong, but you were already having trouble keeping your head up as it was.

once you felt your eyes slip closed one too many times, you'd decided it was time to turn in for the night. with a quick 'goodnight' to the others, you'd made a beeline straight for your room – but it was more of a hobble, since your ankle still required you to walk with a crutch.

that night you'd slept like a baby, waking up early the next morning feeling well rested, and thankfully your ankle had even started to feel better. though you still couldn't join the team's training sessions, you had other responsibilities to fulfil, so unfortinately you did have to get up at some point.

you'd just finished lacing up your boots when you noticed it; a single sheet of paper on the ground by your door, folded once in half so you can't see what's written on it. from where it lays, you conclude that whoever left it must've slipped it through the gap under your door while you slept. you'd picked it up and sat back on the edge of your bed to unfold it, your curiosity certainly piqued. it make you wonder, though, what reason someone could have for leaving you a note.

except, when you'd lifted the page it wasn't a note at all. on the slightly wrinkled paper were a number of beautiful pencil drawings – drawings of you. the surprise of seeing your own face staring back at you nearly stopped your poor heart.

the jagged edge on one side of the page indicated that it must have been torn out of a sketchbook, which had interested you even more. you couldn't think of anyone you knew who could draw, let alone who would have a sketchbook dedicated to it.

whoever made this, it was clear that art was a passion of theirs – these drawings were really good. your hair, your eyes, the subtle expression on your features, every line was expertly crafted. it was incredibly flattering, and admittedly boosted your ego a little with how good those sketches made you look.

as you sat there smiling to yourself, you'd glanced up to the three flowers blooming on your nightstand. like the gardenias, the drawings were from your secret admirer, there was no other explanation; and an admirer they were, it was abundantly clear from these sketches that this person had an appreciation for you, if only from afar.

the drawings had been your favourite so far, but unfortunately, it was almost a week until your admirer made another move.

it had been long enough for you to start walking properly on your ankle again, and so you'd been slowly easing back into your workout routine, starting with your morning run. you'd taken it slow with lots of breaks to rest your muscles, but still decided to call it early, which had you back at your locker earlier than usual. as you were rounding the corner to the locker room, you'd heard the door slam closed and a set of heavy footsteps racing down the corridor. you'd only caught a glimpse of whoever it was as they dashed around the other corner, quick enough that you weren't able to see who it was.

you'd been concerned at first, whoever it was had been in a terrible rush, but you'd quickly shaken it off – it wasn't uncommon for people to be rushing around base, especially first thing in the morning. with your own meeting to get to, you'd decided not to dwell on the strange almost-encounter, and carried on with grabbing your towel from the bench and showering.

as you opened the door to your locker to fetch your clean clothes, sitting front and centre on top of them was something you definitely hadn't left there; a bag of your favourite hard candy, unopened, in the space that had been empty not half an hour before. how did these get here? you'd asked yourself, and you stood there confused for a moment or two before the answer came to you.

of course, your secret admirer. you'd felt the familiar giddy excitement bubble up in your chest at the revelation. it had been a while since the page of drawings had been slipped under your door, and it pained you how the gardenias had begun to wilt already. honestly, you'd been slightly worried that they'd given up, or something had happened to them. thankfully though, they seemed to be doing just fine, and you were too with such a pleasant start to your day.

it wasn't until you were sat in the meeting room, munching on your sweets and waiting for the others to arrive, that you realised.

the person, the one who'd been in a hurry as you got back from your run, it was them; that person was your secret admirer. they had to be, you'd concluded, the sweets weren't in your locker when you'd been in there earlier, and you did cut your run short, so they probably hadn't expected you to return so soon – that's why they'd been in such a rush to get away.

the revelation had butterflies swarming in your stomach, the idea of being so close to finding out who it was that held such fond affection for you sparking giddy excitement in you; but at the same time, it filled you with a sickly apprehension.

the problem was that you already knew who you wanted it to be – you had from the beginning – and you worried that uncovering their identity would only lead to disappointment; because there was no possible way john mactavish could feel the same way you felt about him.

soap had always been nothing short of kind and respectful of you, never stepping over the unspoken line if being your closest friend. sometimes, you can fool yourself into thinking he treats you differently – when he checks in on you after missions, when he always saves you a seat next to him in meetings, when he'd practically carried you to the infirmary, all of it ignited a warm feeling in your chest. but then you think about it a little more, and remember that all those nice gestures, that's just who he is. he wormed his way into the heart of ghost, for fucks sake, it was almost impossible not to like him.

you'd been so lost in thought, that gaz sitting in the seat next to you had startled you back to reality.

"gonna share with the class?" he'd asked with a teasing smirk, gesturing to the sweets sitting on the table in front of you. he'd reached out to grab one, but you'd pushed his hand away and snatched the bag to your chest.

"no way," you'd said with a playful glare, sending a quick smile to soap who'd taken the seat on your other side, "these are from my secret admirer, get your own."

gaz paused. "...your fucking what?" he had an incredulous look on his face, and you'd forgotten that you never actually told the others about it. "soap, you hearin' this?"

soap looked almost panicked when you'd turned to him, but he didn't have time to respond, as that was the moment price had walked through the door and announced the start of the meeting.

"i'll explain after," you whispered to gaz, who gave you a pointed look that said 'you better' and turned his attention back to price. you'd stifled a chuckle and looked back at soap, expecting him to have a similar expression, but he was already facing forward. you'd frowned at this; you and johnny would always whisper back and forth during meetings – a way to keep eachother entertained, as well as an excuse for you to sit close to him – but today his face had an odd air of seriousness to it. oh well, you'd thought somewhat downtrodden, just have to talk to him after.

and that's what led you to the present, where you'd been explaining to the boys everything that has happened over the last two weeks. well, you were mostly telling soap and gaz, ghost honestly didn't seem that interested, though the captain did have a rather amused expression as he listened.

"so you have no idea who it could be?" gaz had turned sideways in his chair, leaning forward slightly with his eyebrows raised. he looked to be in disbelief, and you were almost inclined to feel the same.

"nope, not a clue." you sighed, turning from gaz to look at the others around the table. price was standing with his arms crossed, giving you a similar disbelieving look, and ghost had that familiar unreadable look in his eyes.

"someone went in your room while you were gone?" ghost's low voice caught your attention, "bit creepy, innit," he grumbled, his gaze darting between you and somewhere next to you. he did have a point, you supposed, it was a bit weird.

"well… maybe a little, yeah…" you trailed off. perhaps he had a point, but you found yourself not wanting to believe it; all of the mystery person's gestures had been so sweet, thoughtful, it was hard to think they had any ill intentions.

that, and your heart has already made up its mind about who it should be.

"don't be like that, lt., whoever it is meant well, didn't they?" gaz chuckled, the grin evident in his voice.

"christ…" ghost mutters, shaking his head in exasperation.

"it may be a slight invasion of privacy…" you begin; and it's true, but after the first incident, it didn't appear that anyone had been inside your room again. "but it was only once. and it was just a chocolate bar, it's harmless. besides, are you really telling me you've never been in anyone's room when they're not there?" you continued, earning only an eye roll from ghost.

"and you haven't tried to figure out who it is?" price asks from his position standing opposite you, across the table.

"no, i wouldn't even know where to start, it could be anyone…" you try to think of anyone to suspect, but your optimistic mind only draws one name; the object of your affection, who happened to be sitting directly next to you. unfortunately, the two of you were strictly friends – no matter how much you longed for something more.

"i think you should investigate," gaz's smile makes you think for a moment that he knows something that you don't, but you brush it off. he didn't even know about your admirer until you told him, how could he? it wasn't like they were leaving any hints. "whoever it is obviously really likes you."

"you think?" you unwrap another sweet and pop it into your mouth as you consider his words.

"yeah! and, we could even help you investigate," gaz gives the others a hopeful, if slightly suspicious, smirk.

"speak for yourself…" ghost leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest, the picture of uninterested, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"could be a good bonding exercise," price had the same entertained tone in his voice as he looked between the four of you, "any thoughts, soap?"

you hadn't realised until the captain brought attention to him, but soap had been uncharacteristically quiet during all this; since before the meeting, actually. he hadn't said a word to you yet today, which had you a little worried. usually the two of you couldn't shut up when you were together. you turn to look at him, and find him looking wide-eyed back at price.

"i don't– ah, maybe…" he stuttered, looking between price and the table rather than meeting your concerned eyes, "...they're just shy? don't want to be known yet?"

"oh, y'think, mate?" gaz fully laughed at that, sharing a look with both ghost and price that held something you couldn't understand. now you're thoroughly confused.

"well, maybe he's right," uncertainty laced your voice, their reactions throwing you for a loop. "if they wanted to be known, they probably would've shown themselves by now, right?" you turn to soap, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else – but he meets your gaze with a tiny smile.

"so you're not going to investigate?" you look back at gaz, who has that incredulous look back on his face, and from the corner of your eye you see price and ghost both shake their heads.

"they can show themselves when they're ready, i don't want to push them." your mind was made up; if your secret admirer wanted to reveal their identity, then they would, it's as simple as that.

"but–" gaz tries to argue, but price quickly interrupts him.

"right, enough, you lot, clear out, you've all got work to be getting on with." he gestures for you all to stand, and after grabbing your sweets, you follow the others out of the room.

for the rest of the day, you endured endless amounts of teasing from gaz, and he even got some of the people from other units in on it. it had your face burning when they cooed over how romantic your 'mystery lover' was. you could only pray that they got over it soon, in the back of your mind you were slightly worried the attention might scare off your admirer, and you certainly didn't want that. but although you told the others you'd wait for them to reveal themselves in their own time, you'd be lying if you said you weren't practically dying to know who it was.

✹✹✹

"hey sarge," a voice sounds from beside you, drowning out the din of the mess hall around you. turning your head, you see it's a private; one you don't really know, but you give her a polite smile anyway. "i've got a message for you." she continues, producing a folded piece of paper from behind her back.

"a message? who from?" you ask, taking the paper from her when she holds it out to you.

she giggles, giving you a sly smile, "a secret someone," and with a suspicious wink, she turned around and left.

with the note in your hand, you look to gaz and soap, a baffled expression on your face. "does she mean my… admirer?" they both shrug at you, sharing an equally perplexed look between themselves.

"go on then," gaz says, "what does it say?"

you unfold it, and scan the neat handwriting of the message. soap and gaz watch as you read it, their curiosity overwhelmingly present in the way they leaned forward to try and see.

your face falls, and you frown. the note was signed – 'your secret admirer' – but you couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in your heart.

"what's up? what does it say?" gaz notices the change in your expression, standing up from his chair and leaning fully over the table to read the note himself. you hand it to him, your good mood from this morning completely soured.

"apparently it is from my admirer," you begin, not bothering to hide the dejection in your voice, "telling me to meet them outside in five minutes."

the pair don't say anything, too stunned to form words as they continue to frown at the words in front of them. this can't be right, it just can't be, your mind laments, if johnny is sitting here, that that means he's not–

"seriously? just like that?" gaz interrupts your thoughts. he sounded annoyed underneath his shock, and you find yourself feeling the same way. "sorry, but i find that hard to believe – they didn't even leave a card with the flowers, did they? it just doesn't feel right to me."

you look to soap, who has yet to say anything on the matter. he doesn't meet your eyes, boring holes into the table with the anger in his gaze. your frown only deepens at his expression, the look on his face so unlike him it almost has you forgetting all about the cause.

"who knows," you sigh, plucking the note back out of gaz's hand. "this probably won't take long, i'll–"

"wait, you're going?" soap interjects, the frown on his face set much deeper than your own. his sudden question caught you off guard, paired with his irritated expression, and you almost thought he was angry with you.

"yeah, i mean, what's the harm, right? might as well just get it over with." you stand as you respond, folding the note back up. even if you were setting yourself up for disappointment, you still wanted to at least hear this person out; even if it wasn't him.

"what's the harm?" johnny scoffs – at you or at very idea of all this you aren't sure – and joins you in standing up, throwing his arms out with such annoyance, it catches you off guard. he gestures sharply at the paper in your hand, "this– whoever that is, it's pure shite! you can't see that?"

now it's you who scoffs at him; where is this hostility coming from? yesterday he seemed as though he couldn't care less when you were telling everyone about it, and now all of a sudden, he thinks he has all the answers?

"how would you know?" you shove the note into your pocket, your earlier sadness quickly morphing into annoyance.

as you move to walk away, johnny looks like he wants to say something more, to stop you, and you hesitate. you want him to; whoever your admirer was, whoever that note was from, none of it meant a thing if it wasn't him. all you wanted was for him to look at you the same way you look at him. gaz is looking at him too, subtly gesturing for him to do something, but he doesn't speak, doesn't meet your eyes as your face drops again.

"exactly, you don't. i'll be back in a minute." you huff, and without another word from either of them, you turn on your heel and make your way out of the mess hall.

it's safe to say your mood had swiftly and effectively been ruined. the disillusionment of realising that your secret admirer was someone other than johnny was one thing, but his sudden attitude towards you was the final straw. your face was decidedly sour as you trudge through the corridors, still with a slight limp which was only fuelling your annoyance for how your day was going. 

the cool air of the courtyard makes your skin bristle as you push the door open, taking a moment to survey the area as you stand in the entryway. to the left stands a lone figure, and you recognise his face, but – like the private from earlier, who you assume is his friend – you can't remember ever having spoken to him. with a deep sigh, you blink away bitterness in your expression and make your way over to him.

his grin is wide as he shamelessly checks you out while you approach, and you instinctually cross your arms over your chest. you come to a stop in front of him, frowning in a look that you hope screams uninterested.

"hey, sarge." he has an overly confident air to him as he speaks, shuffling closer under your scrutinising stare. of course he wouldn't take the hint.

"so it's you, then?" you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion. you just wanted this to be over with, but it seemed luck just wasn't on your side today.

"it's me," he confirms, the blinding grin still plastered to his face as he inches even closer, "you surprised?"

"yeah, actually. i didn't know you were an artist." you reply, voice flat, and you watch him blink once in surprise. you raise a brow at his bewilderment, your patience already wearing painfully thin. he chuckles awkwardly in an attempt to hide how you so obviously caught him off guard.

"ah, yeah i uh–" he stutters, but you cut him off before he can make too much of a fool of himself.

"in fact, i don't actually know you at all. i couldn't recall your name even if you held a gun to my head." the hiss in your voice reveals just how over this whole situation you are. he opens his mouth to spout something else you have no interest in hearing, the sleazy grin falling from his face, but you hold a hand up to silence him. "so i'd really appreciate it if you left me alone."

"but–"

"and stay out of my room, and my locker, too. if it happens again, you're getting reported." you spit the final words at him, and turn on your heel to leave. before you can take another step, he grabs your elbow and spins you back around to face him, causing your ankle to twist awkwardly, which sends a fresh jolt of pain up your leg. you hold back a groan and fix him with a deadly glare instead.

"hey, c'mon, don't be like that!" you wince as he practically demands, getting much closer to you than was necessary, even with you arching backwards to put some space between you. "at least gimme a chance,"

"just leave me alone." you hiss, pulling your arm out of his grip and before he has the chance to do or say anything else, you hurry back the way you came, your limp noticeably more pronounced than earlier. thankfully, the private – jackson, you’d just about been able to read on his jacket – didn’t follow you back to the mess hall, which proves that he has at least half a brain. you hoped that he’d take the hint to stay away from you, but somewhere in the back of your mind you were preparing yourself to be hassled by him in the coming days; he certainly seemed the type.

you were gone less than ten minutes, but in that time most of the lunch crowd had cleared out, leaving the room a lot quieter than it had been. as you shuffle towards soap and gaz, still sitting at the same table, they both turn to look at you, and you can tell by the way both their expressions drop that they sense something is off.

"what happened?" gaz asks as you take your seat across from them, trying to hold back a wince when you put too much strain on your ankle, "your face says it didn't go well."

you sigh, looking between both of them, lingering on soap who’s already watching you with an intensity that has your face heating up. "it didn’t. it was just some private who can’t take no for an answer." you grumble, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand.

"your ankle okay?" soap asks, holding your gaze until you relent and look away first. you want to tell him not to worry, but you find it's impossible to lie to him, not when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the room. "what happened?" he presses, his voice taking on a dangerous tone.

"its nothing, he just– i just twisted it a little." you trip over your words under his stare, looking to gaz for help, but you find that he has a similar – albeit less intense – look of concern on his face. the silence hangs between you for a moment as you wordlessly try to convince them, but they see through you. "alright, fine. when i was leaving, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, and i pulled my ankle."

if johnny had been pissed before, he was furious now; his eyes were dark underneath his furrowed brow, his lips turned down in a frown that looked more like a snarl. to see someone usually so easygoing with such a threatening look on his face was almost worrying, the only reassurance being that you know it's not directed at you.

"that prick… who was it?" gaz isn't nearly as affected as soap, but he's clearly annoyed by the audacity of the private. you shake your head, urging them to just let it go; he wasn't worth the trouble, after all.

when johnny says your name in that deep, gravelly tone, your heart skips a beat and your eyes snap to meet his. "who was it." he asks, but it's not a question anymore, and every fibre of your being is telling you to just give in to him.

"jackson. i don't know his first name…" you mutter, slightly flustered by the way he's acting. the tension in the silence that follows is nearly suffocating. from where his arms rest on the table, you notice johnny repeatedly clenching his fists, seemingly having some sort of internal battle with himself.

"what a bellend…" gaz grumbles, pausing for a moment to shake the disgust from his face. "so, what about the whole 'secret admirer' thing then?" he leans back in his chair, eyes darting to soap's profile then back to you.

"i don't know…" you sigh, "didn't really seem like something he was capable of, but i guess i don't really know him, so–"

"yeah, he doesn't seem the type, does he?" gaz interjects, with a newfound energy at your words. you narrow you eyes, sensing an ulterior motive, but let him continue. "i mean, buying you flowers, sweets– seems a bit too thoughtful for such a twat."

his jab coaxed a laugh from you, "maybe; i guess i was pretty disappointed when i saw it was him, though."

"oh yeah? expecting someone else, were you?" gaz has a grin on his face, one that has you worried that he's clocked on to your true feelings.

"something like that…" you clear your throat, suddenly feeling a little too seen for your liking. "anyway, i'd better get going, desk duty is no joke," you slowly stand up, making sure to be careful of your newly irritated ankle, and adamantly avoiding eye contact with either of them.

"yeah, me too, cap said he needs my help with something." gaz stands as well, giving soap a pat on the back and a suspicious wink as he walks off, which you willfully choose to ignore.

"you gonna be okay?" johnny comes to your side as you shuffle around the table, his hand brushing over your back to support you. butterflies begin to flutter at the feeling, and you scold yourself for being so easily affected. he seems to have calmed down a lot, the anger from earlier overtaken by his concern.

"yeah, i'll be fine, i think i'll just have to grab my crutch," you smile at him and take a step forward, wincing as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

"c'mon, lemme help you," he tilts his head to meet your eyes, his worry evident within them. his hand is warm on your back, you have to hold yourself back from leaning into him. "cannae have you hurtin' yourself any more."

"you sure? don't you have work to do too?" you have every intention of taking him up on his offer, but you couldn't help feeling guilty for needing his help like this.

"i'm sure lt. can survive a few extra minutes," johnny gives you a reassuring smile, already ushering you out of the mess hall.

"well, don't blame me when has your head," you grin back at him, relishing in the comfortable feeling of being so close to him. distracted by his proximity, you momentarily forget about your injury and without thinking, you put too much weight on it as you take a step. with a pained gasp, you wobble on your good foot and pause to give your ankle a break.

johnny moves his arm to sit securely around your waist, gently pulling you to lean fully against him. "you sure you don't want me to take you to the infirmary?" he asks, lifting your arm to wrap around his shoulders.

"no, no– they're just gonna tell me to rest, and i'll be sitting down all day anyway," you move to continue on your way to your room, but he stays put. 

"you should still get it looked at, might be–"

"johnny." you stop him with a hand on his chest, "i'm okay."

you watch his adams apple bob as he gulps, his eyes flickering to where your hand is touching him and back up to your own, almost too fast to notice.

"right, right. sorry." he dips his head, breaking eye contact. you pull him gently, and the two of you start walking again. "you know jackson well?"

you scoff, frowning as you recall the events of earlier. "what? no, before today i didn't even know his name. he seems like kind of an arsehole, to be honest."

"really? made that bad of an impression, eh?" his lopsided smile feels oddly smug, but you decide not to overthink it.

"like i said, can't take a no." you grumble, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, "i doubt this is the last time i'll have to deal with him…"

"he's not gonna bother you." johnny states, with a finality that is as stunning as it is comforting.

"...if you say so." you don't press any further, wanting to simply move on and forget about the whole thing. you'd gladly never think about that arrogant private again.

before you know it, the two of you are standing in the hall outside your room. his grip around your waist loosens as you push open the door, and you're all too aware of the cold feeling left behind as he lets go.

"thank you, for helping me." you shoot him a grateful smile, grabbing your crutch from where it leant against the wall, propping it under your arm.

"course," johnny pauses, looking past you to something in your room. "you… kept the gardenias?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. you tilt your head, a silent question, but he's still staring at the flowers.

"yeah, they're…" you begin, but his words have you pausing too; he didn't seem like the kind of person to be interested in floristry, you'd certainly never heard him say anything about it before. but somehow, he'd identified the flowers on your end table with no problem. "...they're nice. i like them, even if they do look a little sad now."

when he finally meets your eyes again, there's a distinct redness to his face that wasn't there before, and you feel your heart beginning to race with renewed hope. it could be that he just likes flowers, but if he already knew they were gardenias, maybe he…

"right, i, uh– i should get going, or ghost might actually kill me." johnny's voice had a dazed quality to it when he spoke.

"alright, i'll see you later then," you give him a small smile as you step back into the hall next to him. the two of you look at each other for a moment before you speak again, holding back a laugh, "you gonna go, or just stand there all day?"

your words seem to snap him out of the trance he’d been in, and he shakes his head in an almost comical manner, "right! right, sorry, bye!" he sputters, waving over his shoulder as he jogs away. you chuckle to yourself as he goes, and start walking the opposite direction to get started with your own work.

✹✹✹

you didn't see soap again until the next day, considering that he was strangely absent from mealtimes both last night and today. thankfully the incident from the day before hadn't done any further damage to your ankle, so you were up and about without the need for your crutch after a good night's rest.

you'd just dropped off a folder of paperwork in price's office – which you'd completed in fairly good time, thanks to being stuck behind a desk for nearly two weeks – but as you descend the staircase, you're almost knocked over by someone flying around the corner. you caught yourself with a hand on the railing, blinking away your surprise and glaring at whoever had carelessly bumped into you.

much to your chagrin, it was jackson, and you feel your face naturally falling into a frown at the realisation. you’d been expecting him to try and change your mind about yesterday, but true to johnny’s words, he had yet to bother you about it; actually, you hadn’t seen him at all since then, not even at breakfast or lunch, but it's not as if you were complaining. 

though, as you stare down at him from the step above, you notice a deep purple bruise decorating his cheekbone that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. your frown turns from malice to confusion as you wonder how he could have gotten it in the span of less than a day, it looked like he’d taken a serious punch. you couldn’t say you felt bad for him, but it did look painful.

"listen, about yesterday… i- i lied,." jackson mutters, eyes glued to the floor to avoid your own. he was shuffling in place, as if he was preparing to bolt at any second. your eyes narrow as you process his words.

"what?"

he clears his throat. "i lied. it wasn’t me, i just said it was because one of the guys bet me i couldn’t get you to go out with me." he admits. the way he keeps avoiding your eyes, glancing around like he was waiting for someone to jump out at him has you a little suspicious, but your heart still soars when you realise what he means.

jackson wasn't your secret admirer, so your hopeless romantic heart could still dream that it was johnny. the flutter of butterflies even distracts you from the insulting notion that he only wanted to go out with you for a bet.

"seriously?" you ask, your shock evident in your voice as you stare him down. finally his eyes land on your own, an embarrassed grimace overtaking his nervous expression. it's a stark, satisfying difference to his arrogant overconfidence from before.

"yeah. i’m sorry, okay? i don’t want any trouble, it was just–" he cuts himself off, but when you give him a questioning look, he can't tear his eyes from the space behind you, and only mumbles what sounds like a ‘sorry’ before scurrying off back the way he came. you watch him go, thoroughly confused by the whole interaction, but not a moment later a voice from where he was staring brings you out of your thoughts.

"y’alright? little shit wasn’t botherin’ you, was he?" soap's voice cuts through the quiet, and you turn to see him descending the stairs to stand next to you.

you shake your head, "no, no, he just–" you hesitate, your mind going back to yesterday and the gardenias. "he lied, it wasn't him."

"really?" he asks, but his voice doesn't sound surprised at all. you're not sure if you imagined it, but for a moment his expression changes into something like satisfaction.

"yeah, he was about to say something else too, but he just ran off," you sigh, walking down the last few steps. soap follows close behind, a hand hovering near your back. "did you see that bruise on his face? wonder how he got it…"

"looked nasty, eh?" a laugh escapes him, and you admire the way his lips curve, the creases around his eyes as his smile reaches them. "maybe he finally got what was comin' to him."

his face was close to yours, a lot closer than you could reasonably handle without losing your nerve and making a fool of yourself. realising you had yet to respond, you clear your throat and start walking down the corridor, your eyes to the floor and a burning in your cheeks.

"if he never speaks to me again, it'll still be too soon…" you grumble, willing your heart to calm down as he comes up next to you in a few long strides. "anyway, what have you been up to? i haven't seen you all day." with a quick glance, you see the easy smile he has falter slightly.

"i was, ah–" he avoids your eye as he stops himself, a beat of silence passes before he continues "nevermind, i– i was… looking for you." your heart skips a beat, but you scold it for being so eager; the two of you were teammates, friends, he could be looking for you for any number of reasons.

"looking for me? what's up?" you turn your head to face him as you walk, a curious tilt to your brow.

johnny comes to a stop, and so do you a moment after. he looks at you, fidgety and shifting on his feet, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. the look on his face is unsure, uncomfortable, like he was debating running off like jackson had done a minute ago.

he's nervous, that much you can tell. but despite the slightly awkward tension, you you wait for whatever it is he's struggling to say.

"i… uh– y'know what, i actually forgot." johnny hangs his head, pulling his hands from his pockets and scratching the back of his neck.

at his words your heart sinks, and you can't help the disappointed look that takes over your expression. "oh? are you–"

before you can finish, he drops a hand on your shoulder and steps ahead of you, turning around so you're face to face. "listen, ghost is waiting for me, so i gotta run," he smiles again, but it's weaker this time, almost forced as it doesn't quite meet his eyes.

"right… better not keep him waiting."

"right," his reply is short, and the tension between you only grows every moment he avoids your eyes. "i'll see you later though, promise." he flashes you another false smile, gently patting your shoulder, before turning on his heel and swiftly escaping down the corridor.

"bye, johnny." you release a sigh, from longing or exasperation you're not sure, watching his form disappear through the doors.

✹✹✹

despite his promise, once again you don't see soap for the rest of the day. at dinner you'd questioned ghost on his whereabouts, but he only told you that he had no idea either. this time however, you got the strong feeling he was lying to you.

still though, you couldn't find it within yourself to be annoyed with him. you could see clear as day that something was going on with johnny, and if he didn't want to confide in you about whatever it is, then you certainly won't be the one to push him.

having finished today's obligations, you decided to head straight to your room once you'd finished eating. you open your door, a sigh escaping you as you prepare to collapse for the night, and stop dead in your tracks.

a folded sheet of paper lays in front of you, standing out against the emptiness of your floor, crumpled like it had been screwed up and flattened out again. a sense of déjà vù overcomes you, for last week, when you'd received the sketches of yourself in the same way. for a moment all you can do is stand there, staring at the paper, processing.

eventually, you do step into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you and picking the paper up from the floor. you keep it folded until you're sitting on the edge of your mattress, hands shaking ever so slightly with the anticipation.

you're not sure what to think, as you sit burning holes in the paper with your stare. after yesterday, you thought you were done with the idea of your secret admirer; but then again, jackson had admitted to you earlier that he'd lied when he met you yesterday, and the whole reason you weren't as interested after that was because your pipe dream of the mystery person being johnny had been shattered. but now that the identity of your admirer was once again a mystery, you couldn't help but want to dream like that again. 

with a defeated groan, you decide to just rip off the bandaid and read the note. you unfold it, immediately noticing the scratchy handwriting – the opposite of the note jackson gave you, so thankfully it couldn't be from him.

you hear your heartbeat in your ears as your eyes scan the words in front of you.

i stayed up all night trying to write this note, but nothing i came up with felt good enough, so i'm just going to say it. i'm your secret admirer. i know you probably won't believe me after that bastard yesterday, but i need you to know anyway. i used to think that love just wasn't my thing, that i'd never find someone i wanted to spend my life with, but that changed when i met you. i didn’t realise it at first, but it's always been you. you're my person, and i can't hide it anymore. i love you. maybe i'm a coward for giving you a note instead of telling you face to face. but if you don't feel the same, you can throw it away, or burn it or something, and i'll never bring it up again. your heart, johnny

the silence in your room borders on deafening as you sit completely still, reeling from what you'd just read. you didn't realise you'd stopped breathing until you release a shaky breath.

all this time, it was johnny.

every longing glance, every touch that lingered just a little too long, the racing pulse every time he says your name; it was all reciprocated.

every time you thought you could never have him as anything more than your best friend, you were wrong.

he cared enough to leave you a pick-me-up after a hard mission, buy you flowers when you got injured, draw you the way he saw you, gift you things he took the time to notice you like.

all this time… he'd felt the exact same way you do.

you set the note down next to you, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth that had fallen open in shock. there was only one thing to do, in your mind, and that was to run into johnny's arms and make up for all the lost time you've spent pining over him.

in seemingly no time at all, you find yourself standing at johnny's door, your fist poised to knock. theres a moment of hesitation, but before your apprehension can cloud your mind, you let your knuckles rap on the wood once, twice, three times, and take a step back as you wait for a response. after a second or two – which felt a lot longer than it actually was – you hear the sounds of footsteps from inside.

another moment passes, and you assume johnny is standing on the other side with his heart in his throat just like you, short-lived before he finally swings the door open.

he looks at you, eyes wide and like a deer caught in headlights, the way he holds himself uncharacteristically shy as you stare each other down.

"the note," you finally murmur, and johnny almost flinches, clearly fighting the urge to look away from you. "tell me you meant it." you continue, taking a miniscule step closer to him. you hear his breath catch in his chest.

"every word." he whispers, gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes again, and your heart misses a beat.

with no hesitation this time, you hook your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, crushing his mouth against yours in a desperate kiss that's as much teeth as it is lips.

johnny groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist as he turns and walks you backwards into his room. the door gets kicked shut behind him once he's got you inside, neither of you breaking apart more than enough to draw a single ragged breath before meeting in the middle again. with another needy whine into you he pushes you up against the wall, caging you in with his broad shoulders and his arms around your waist.

the weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his stubble prickly against your face, the softness of his lips against yours; it's everything you've been waiting for, and now you finally have him, he tastes sweeter than you could've ever imagined.

the two of you stay like that for moments that feel like hours in each other's embrace, only pulling away when your lungs are burning and your lips are swollen. leaning your head back against the wall, his eyes meet yours with such adoration it sends your heart fluttering all over again.

"i'll take that as a good sign," he mumbles, a lopsided grin lifting his features. his joy is so infectious you can't help but mirror his expression as you drop your head to rest on his shoulder.

his chest rumbles with an airy, disbelieving laugh and he tugs you impossibly closer, resting his cheek against the side of your head. standing chest to chest now, you can feel the hammering of his heart against yours and the way his skin burns under your touch.

"you’re my person too," you murmur into him, one of your hands moving up to tangle in the strands of his mohawk, "always have been."

johnny's arms wind tighter around you as he releases a deep, content sigh. he's hugged you countless times before but somehow, this feels different while still staying exactly the same. the heat radiating from him is soothing like it always has been, the knowledge that your feelings are reciprocated only making it that much sweeter.

"why'd it take us so long, eh?" he utters, tender and loving in the way he runs his hands over your back and sides.

"we're just idiots…" you reply, "gaz is gonna have a field day with this."

johnny laughs again, pressing his lips to the side of your head so you can feel his smile. "oh, he clocked us a long time ago, bonnie."

you can't help but groan as you imagine how gaz will tease the both of you for how oblivious you've both been.

he lifts you up by his grip around your waist, carrying you over to his bed and flopping down onto his back with you on his chest. a satisfied groan escapes him as he settles, burying his face into your hair and inhaling a deep breath.

you're enveloped by the scent of him – gunpowder, and the faint smell of something burnt, but it's pleasant and familiar nonetheless.

"yer stayin' with me tonight, non negotiable." he murmurs, running a hand up and down the length of your spine.

"fine by me." you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, and find them already locked on you. "so, about jackson…"

johnny scoffs, lightheartedly frowning in response. "yer gonna bring his name up while yer in my bed?"

"he looked really spooked when he saw you earlier," you begin, smoothing your hand over his chest. his eyes widen at your words, his hand freezing as he looks away from you with a distinctly guilty expression on his face. you narrow your eyes, holding back the amused smirk pulling at your lips. "johnny… did you…"

he clears his throat, and by the way he can't hold your gaze for more than a second you can tell he knows he's been caught. there's no stopping the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at his reaction.

"...i may have, uh– potentially put some fear o'god into the little bawbag…"

"soap!"

[st-eve-barnes]

Hush (modern Aemond x fem Reader)

Summary: Aemond has been crushing on you since forever but is too shy to tell you. One night while watching a movie with your friends and cuddling underneath a blanket he shows you just how much he desires you. Based on this little prompt "What if I pull your panties aside, and finger you in a public place…?"

Word count: +3700

Warning: 18+ for explicit content and language, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, hand job (sort of), mild choking,

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Aemond’s mind was everywhere except focussed on the movie playing on the big tv in front of him. Lord of the Rings the Two Towers just finished a few minutes ago and the intro for Return of the King now filled the screen. Aemond adored these movies, they always managed to get him out of his own head and distract him from whatever was happening in real life.

But tonight, even Frodo and Sam didn’t succeed in changing his low mood.

If it were up to him he’d be in his room right now, wallowing and hiding away from the world.

But his friends had insisted he’d hang with them for their weekly movie marathon. Part of him was grateful they looked out for him and cared enough, but another part of him just wanted to be left alone.

You’d been gone for over 5 hours now and he hadn’t thought of anything else since, how beautiful you looked with your hair down and that short, sexy black dress you only wore on date nights. Not that he would know anything about that. You had dated half his friend group but never him.

Of course not him, why would you?

He grabbed another handful of popcorn and tried to focus on the beginning of the movie but it was no use. He knew he’d go to sleep with you still on his mind, like he had so many night before in the past 3 years since he’d known you.

It was completely pathetic, but what was he to do? You were his best friend. He was the first one you ran to after every single one of those dates, sometimes to talk about how amazing the guy was and how you hoped he might be the one, but more often than not it was to cry on Aemond’s shoulder after another asshole broke your heart. 

The jealousy was enough to drive him insane sometimes, but still he was only too happy to lend you his shoulder and his arms whenever you needed them.

You always seemed so comfortable around him and in return Aemond could let his guard down with you, which was rare for him. Your friendship was the most important thing in his life, he’d rather die than lose you, and he'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. So he kept his feelings locked away deep down and played the part of supportive best friend while you went on one date after the other with a bunch of guys who never stuck around for very long. 

But he always would. Until maybe one day you would see…

He knew that was a dream he should stop indulging in but he just could’t help it, he was too far gone for you and tonight was a low point. He craved you so bad just the thought of you in that black dress had him growing hard in his sweatpants.

***

You opened the door of the apartment as quietly as you could, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. You knew they were all watching the movie and maybe if you were careful enough you could just slip past everyone and get to your room without having to explain…

“Y/N!”

Shit.

Helaena’s voice made everyone look up at you. Your friends were all spread out across the living room, on the couches and on the floor, covered in blankets and surrounded by cozy lights and candles. The whole setting was very inviting yet you wanted no part in it right now, you just wanted to get to your room before you would burst out in tears.

But when Helaena got up and put her arms around you that plan failed.

“Oh, honey, no…what’s wrong?” she looked at you with concern on her face.

“Bad date,” you sobbed,”Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay,” she caressed your hair,”Do you wanna watch the movie with us? We just started Return of the king.”

You shook your head,”I just want to crawl into my bed and disappear.”

But Helaena didn’t let go of you and shook her head,”No, I can’t allow that.”

“Can’t allow that?” you couldn’t help but smile through your tears.

“Come join us, you can cry over that asshole later, the people who care about you are right here.”

You sighed.

“Please?” she added with her sweetest smile, pulling you over the edge easily. You knew she was right, you deserved to end the night surrounded by friends instead of alone in your bed crying over some guy who wasn’t even worth it.

“Fine,” you caved,”just give me a few minutes.”

“Take your time, grab some popcorn and a drink from the kitchen and come find a spot.”

You did as she suggested, making a quick stop in the bathroom first to wash off your make up and exchange your dress for some comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. Then you got some snacks from the kitchen table and a soda from the fridge before making your way back to the living room. 

Much to your dismay everyone was sitting in pairs, even Helaena who seemed very cozy next to Jace. You instantly wanted to turn on your heel and go hide in your room anyway. But then you saw him, the only one who was sitting by himself. 

Aemond.

He was already looking at you when your eyes met his and he gave you a little smile, mouthing,”You okay?”

You shook your head.

“Come here,” he beckoned and he lifted up his blanket, an invite to join him and you didn’t hesitate.

You placed your drink and snacks on the table and crawled into the empty space next to him, Aemond was quick to cover you with the blanket.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, his hand on your lower back to pull you to him and place a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, Aem,” you smiled weakly.

“That bad, hmm?” he asked.

You laughed bitterly, feeling the tears well up again,”Yeah, that bad.”

“Want me to go beat him up? Run him over with my car? Set fire to his place? Just name it. I can make it look like an accident.”

Your laugh was sincere and his lips curled up into a smile of his own while his hand squeezed at your hip.

Despite your best efforts a tear ran down your cheek anyway.

“Hey, baby, don’t,” he whispered while his hand gently cupped your cheek, brushing your tears away,”Don’t cry, sweet girl.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest and Aemond wrapped his arm around you, gently caressing your hair while he held you.

“You liked this one, didn’t you?” he asked with a sigh.

“No, he was a total jerk.”

Aemond’s other hand gently cupped your cheek, his eye meeting yours,”Then why the tears?”

“I’m just…so tired of meeting these assholes. He flirted with the waitress the entire time, right in front of me, even gave her his number, like I wasn’t even there and…it just made me feel so…unlovable.”

Aemond’s jaw tensed up and you could see anger boiling in his one good eye.

His thumb traced your jaw,“Give me his name and I will make him regret it.”

He sounded so intense and serious you weren’t sure if he was still joking or not and it made a shiver run up your spine.

“When you talk like that I almost think you mean it,” you pointed out.

“Almost?” he gave you a teasing little smirk and you shook your head, leaning into his touch and Aemond didn’t hesitate to wrap both arms around you and pull you into him. You melted into his arms and let the rest of your tears fall freely, knowing Aemond would hold you through every last one of them.

You felt like the luckiest girl alive having him as your best friend.

He tightened his hug, soothing you with sweet, comforting words while his hand softly stroked your hair.“It’s okay…I got you, sweetheart..it’s okay, he doesn’t deserve you…please don’t cry…It’s alright, baby, I’m here.”

This wasn’t new, you crying your heart out in Aemond’s arms, it happened way too often, but something felt different tonight. The pet names, the way his touches lingered and how hungry he looked at you in between made your stomach flutter. And you didn't want it to stop.

Your tears were soon forgotten and the horrible date faded into nothing but a distant memory as you relaxed under Aemond’s attention.

You were stroking up and down his back when you accidentally slipped your hand underneath his shirt, a small whimper left his lips at your unexpected touch. It encouraged you to do it again, letting your nails drag across his back, this time he let out a small moan and his hand tightened in your hair.

“Aem,” you buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and making him shiver. He was biting his lip to keep from moaning again as you continued to touch him. When you placed a soft, innocent kiss in his neck he lost that fight.

You couldn’t help but smile seeing the effect you had on him and you kissed him again, this time letting your tongue trace lightly over his skin until he shivered again. You pulled back.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, grabbing the back of your neck to hold you close to him,”Please…please baby, don’t stop.”

His one hand moved down your back to cup your ass and pull your one leg over his, your knee bumping up against his growing erection.

There was no way you were going to stop now.

You kissed his neck again and Aemond pulled the blanket up a little higher, making sure no one else could see what you two were doing but everyone seemed too distracted watching the movie anyway.

Your hands moved underneath his shirt to touch his chest and stomach, his skin was warm, hard and soft at the same time and you could feel him shiver again, his hungry eyes begging you not to stop.

Aemond was losing his mind, your hands all over him were driving him crazy and when you started kissing his neck again he was suddenly rock hard in his sweatpants. He needed to take control back fast, he grabbed your wrists to hold you back.

“Turn around,” he begged in a husky voice, still breathing faster than usual.

He manoeuvred you into a different position so you were lying with your back up against his chest. You instantly missed the feeling of his skin under your hands but it was forgotten about quickly when Aemond gently moved your hair to one side, exposing your neck to him and then placing soft, hot kisses on your shoulder.

Now it was your turn to try and stay quiet and you were losing the fight just as quickly as he had, letting out a soft whimper when he started kissing and sucking your neck.

“Aem,” you breathed.

His mouth was right next to your ear,”You want me to stop?”

There was a teasing, smug tone to his voice, he knew damn well you didn’t want him to stop.

His hand moved up your hip, over your stomach to cup your breast through your shirt, thumb circling your nipple while he continued placing wet kisses all over your neck.

Your eyes closed in pure bliss. “Please,” you begged,”Touch me…under my shirt…please.”

You could feel his lips quirk up in a smile and he gave you what you asked for, pushing up your t-shirt and caressing your tits again, pinching your nipple in between his fingers while his teeth grazed your ear.”I’ve wanted to put my hands on you for so long…touch you just like this…fuck, you have no idea what you do to me…how hard you make me.”

To accentuate his words he carefully lifted his hips to push back against your ass, letting you feel his aching cock.

You squirmed in his arms.

“Shhh,” he purred,”You need to keep quiet or I have to stop, okay? Can’t let anyone see what we’re doing.”

You bit your lip and quickly nodded your head. Your hand was on his leg and you were squeezing hard while you pressed your own legs together trying to relieve some pressure.

To say you had never lusted after Aemond would be a lie. You had always found him gorgeous and intense in a very sexy way, but he was your best friend, somehow you had never allowed your mind to really go there. Until tonight, and now that you had opened that door there was no end to how much you desired him.

“Feel,” he breathed into your ear while he took your hand and placed it on his cock,”Feel how hard you make me.”

You rubbed him through his pants, making him growl into your ear. Before you could do it again he pushed your hand away and kissed your neck again.

“You’re squirming so much, little one, what is it?” he teased, an amused tone to his voice,”Is there something you need, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathed and you turned your head just enough to make brief eye contact with him,”I need you to touch me, Aem.”

You didn’t need to give him anymore details, he knew exactly what you meant.

“Can you be quiet for me?” Aemond checked, his tone serious.

“Hmm,” you confirmed.

He placed a soft kiss on your jaw while his hand moved down to your hip and then your inner thigh.”Spread your legs for me,” he whispered in your ear while placing your leg over his, spreading you open for him. You moved with him so easily and eagerly he cursed himself for not having done this sooner.

He caressed your hair and then placed his hand in the back of your neck, massaging softly and pulling your shirt down so he could kiss more of your shoulders and your back.

“Aem,” your voice was shaking,”Please…please.”

You had never begged so much in your life and every single one of your pleas was music to Aemond’s ears.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispered, carefully untying your shorts and then slipping his hand underneath, teasing you by dragging his fingers over your panties,”Fuck, these are soaked right through. You are so wet, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but whimper at his words and Aemond grabbed your chin with his thumb, making you look back into his eye,”You really need it, don't you, sweetheart? Is that why you’re dripping all over my hand, hmm? You want it that bad?” 

You nodded and bit your lip,”I want you that bad.”

His cock stirred at your words and the feel of your hot, wet pussy under his hand was becoming too much. Fuck it, he should just drag you to his bedroom right now and fuck you into his mattress, give into what he'd been craving for so long now. But he also wanted to save that part for later, when all your friends had gone home and he could have you all to himself, take his time to really worship you the way he always dreamed of.

This right here, teasing you and feeling your body burn up under his touch, was turning him on beyond reason and it would have to be enough for now.

His breath was hot and heavy in your ear,”You want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

He gently pulled your hair back, placing his lips on your ear as he whispered,”You want me to push your panties to the side and finger you right here, with all of our friends in the room? Would you like that, my sweet dirty girl?”

All you managed was a quiet moan in the back of your throat but it was enough confirmation for Aemond to continue.

“God, you’re such a bad girl,” he purred, licking the spot right below your ear,”You’ll be quiet for me, yeah? Otherwise I can’t continue, okay, baby?”

“I’ll be quiet,” you nodded,”I promise.”

You were lying, you couldn’t promise him a damn thing and you were pretty sure he knew that but both of you were too far gone to stop now. He could suggest fucking you right here with all of your friends as witnesses and you would probably still say yes, that’s how badly you needed him.

Aemond carefully pulled down your shorts and then pushed your panties aside. His long delicate fingers teasing your clit, circling it slowly and spreading your wetness all over your folds.

You bit your lip to keep your moans quiet.

“Good girl,” Aemond praised,”Good fucking girl…lean back against me.”

Your head fell back onto his shoulder and Aemond caressed your hair, nuzzling your neck and your cheek, his other hand still rubbing perfect circles over your most sensitive spot. He continued until he noticed you started breathing harder and faster, your nails digging into his thigh, your orgasm within reach.

His finger moved to tease your entrance and you were no longer able to hold back the quiet little moans escaping your lips. You wanted to beg and scream but you also didn’t want to make a single sound and be so good for him. Aemond didn’t stop, pushing his long delicate finger into your fluttering walls and the both of you gasped for air for a moment.

“Fuck,” he breathed,”Oh god, you’re so tight…so warm….and so fucking wet for me…fuck, baby, I can’t wait for you to take my cock.”

You moaned at his words and he was quick to cover your mouth with his free hand.

“Shhh shhh,” he insisted but he didn’t pull back, instead he added another finger and then just held them there without moving,”You can’t do that, sweetheart, they’ll hear us. Be a good girl for me, okay?”

You nodded quickly, desperate for him to move his fingers again.

“Here, bite my thumb,” he suggested, letting his finger brush over your lips. You were quick to take him into your mouth, sucking slowly and dragging your tongue all over it. Aemond instantly regretted his choice because now he was the one losing control again. The feel of your hot, wet mouth on him went straight to his cock and the thought of that mouth swallowing him whole was enough to almost set him off.

“Slow down,” he begged,”Please, baby, slow down…fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like some horny teenager if you keep doing that.”

You looked up at him with feigned innocence while you sucked harder, keeping your eyes on him.

“Stop!” he pulled his thumb from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smirk this time.

“Aemond, you have to be quiet,” you teased.

Aemond’s hand moved to your neck, not choking you but holding you still while he started fucking you with his fingers, taking back control.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Maybe I should just keep teasing you, hmm?” he grunted in your ear,”Bad girls don’t get to cum and that…was very bad of you.”

He kept fucking you with his two fingers, curling them just right but as soon as he hit the sweet spot he pulled back.

“No, no please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Aem.”

He added pressure around your throat and started kissing your shoulder again, soft sweet kisses turned rough and he sucked your skin until it bruised, all while adding a third finger and fucking you faster. You were falling fast, biting down on your own hand now to stop from making too much noise.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled in your ear, while his thumb found your clit again,”I knew you could do it, sweetheart."

You were so close, your pussy clenching around him over and over, your climax was right there, all you needed was that last little…

“Cum for me, my sweet girl,” he whispered softly, teeth grazing your ear,”Come on..god, fuck you’re squeezing me so tight…shit….cum for me, baby, please. Please.”

He choked on his last word and you came hard, but not before moving your hand to his cock, rubbing him through his sweatpants until Aemond buried his face into your neck, muffling his own moan and spilling into his pants.

“Fuck, oh god you fucking little brat…fuck,” he breathed hard, wrapping both arms around you to hold you close to him. You stayed like that for a while until you turned around to be able to hug him back. Your eyes finally meeting his fully and the soft smile he greeted you with warmed your heart.

Aemond gently cupped your cheek.”Hey,” he whispered, suddenly shy again while biting down on his lip.

“Hey, you,” you smiled.

“Come here,” he leaned in to kiss your lips, slow and deep and so soft it was making your head spin again. You kissed him back with the same fire, melting into his embrace.

All those bad dates and horrible guys and you could have been doing this all along. Regret filled your senses and Aemond noticed the sudden serious expression in your eyes.

“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, concerned,"Was it too much? Did you not like all the teasing?"

"No, no god that was perfect," you reassured him,"I just…wish we’d done this sooner.”

His lisp curled up into the biggest smile, warming your heart,”Me too, but we’ll make up for lost time, I promise, my sweet girl.”

He leaned in to place another soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

It was Aegon’s loud and obnoxious voice that pulled you both out of your haze:”Are you guys about done so we can get back to watching the movie now? Jesus fucking Christ, the bedrooms are right there, you couldn’t have done that in there or waited until the movie was over? Fucking horny bastards.”

“Oh god,” you buried your face against Aemond’s chest in embarrassment and he hugged you close, shielding you from the others and giving his brother the finger but also unable to keep the happy grin off his face.

Then he did what Aegon suggested, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him towards his bedroom, under loud cheers from most of your friends.

Aemond turned around one last time to wink at Aegon,”Better turn up that volume cause we're not going to be quiet this time.”

He closed the door behind him just in time to dodge the pillow Aegon threw at him.

[to-the-stars8]

The Wayne's Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

9 to 5 (Metaphorically)

You had been working for Bruce Wayne for two weeks, and could for sure say that the kids were sweet, though a little out of touch with reality. Whether that was due to their father being the absolute weirdest man on the planet or from how rich they were— You didn’t know. Nonetheless, the days were long and tiresome. You wondered how you ever got through it. 

8:15

First and foremost, you had to get up extremely early to see the kids off to school. 

You fixed Cassandra’s headband on her head, making sure she looked perfect, before moving to fix Duke’s tie. Turning on your heel, your pink bathrobe swaying as you did, you quickly stopped Tim from pulling Jason’s hair.

“What did I tell you about pulling hair, Timothy Jackson Drake?” You put your hands on your hips. 

With pink cheeks, he mumbled, “That karma will make me bald.”

“That’s right, and the last thing we want is to look like Lex Luthor, right kids?”

“Right!” They all mumbled. 

Upon his approach, Mr. Wayne seemed pleased with how you managed the kids, even if it was in a less-than-professional way. When you fully turned your attention to him, you grinned, showing off his children. They looked good and healthy—Just as they did before your arrival, the only difference was that he wasn’t as tired. 

“Okay, sweet babies, give daddy a kiss before Alfred takes you to school,” You ushered the kids toward their father. 

Dick offhandedly said to Alfred, “Did I miss the wedding?” You lightly swatted the back of his head while Bruce was kissing the other children goodbye.

Slowly, the kids trickled out of the door, all of them saying goodbye over their shoulders. Now, you were left alone with Bruce and Damian, who sat securely on his hip. 

The moment you turned to the two of them, Damian broke out into a bashful smile. You cooed to him, calling him the sweetest boy on the planet. Finally, you noticed Mr. Wayne again, “You should just leave him here with me. We’ll have such a fun time, huh, buddy?” 

Bruce smiled at his boy, pushing his black locks back before addressing you. “No doubt, but I want him to socialize with other kids. The preschool at work is a fine one, too, and today is ice cream day.”

“Oh, my, then don’t let me hold you back! Let me get a kiss real quick,” A surprised look crossed Bruce’s face, but he slowly started to lean his cheek toward you. You swatted him away, making Damian giggle. “Not you!” You blew a raspberry against the boy’s cheek, causing a shrill laugh. 

Before you could just snatch the little boy from his father’s grasp so he could stay with you, Bruce adjusted him on his hip before addressing you again. “You have enough to do for the day?”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, most of your attention still on Damian. “Oh, sure, my schedule is booked.”

9:50

Secondly, you made yourself presentable.

No one wants to see their employee running around in their slippers and bathrobes—Plus, Bruce already got onto about not dressing appropriately when some company had come over earlier that week. Luckily, being employed by one of the richest men in Gotham meant one thing; You could finally afford the champagne taste you had.

The only drawback? Beauty took time, so you spent a good chunk of the morning just making yourself ready to be ready. 

You had to go through your entire skincare routine (of course, after lounging around in the big bathtub with the jets) before you finally went to your closet to pick out your clothes. Once you had something you decided did finally move on to your makeup. Not that you needed any, you thought, but there was no harm in adding beauty to beauty. 

Eventually, the process of actually looking presentable came to a close and lunch was just around the corner. So, getting up, you looked at yourself one more time.

It was hard work being beautiful, but, damn it all, if you didn’t do a good job of it. 

11:45

Of course, after you got ready you had to eat something, so, while Alfred meal prepped dinner, you sat while dishing out all the latest gossip. 

As you shuffled a sandwich in your mouth, he told you all about Mr. Wayne’s previous relationship with someone named Selina and how it ended in absolute heartbreak. Supposedly, Bruce had been so heartbroken that he could hardly get out of bed and remained a recluse for months afterward. Alfred’s words, not yours. 

“Oh, so not much has changed?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

Alfred tried to hold back a laugh and leaned forward to quietly add, “This was three years ago.”

You smiled. “So I was right, not much has changed!"

Alfred snickered, turning to peel some more potatoes, and you took the opportunity to tell him your woes with love. It was a deep, tragic tale that could jerk the tears from any eye. 

Except for Alfred’s, apparently. 

When you were done, he filled you in on an even better story. One about the richest of the rich in Gotham, and every word he said had you hanging on by a thread. If you hadn’t met Alfred before, you would have never guessed that he was the kind of man to eavesdrop or have a big mouth. But, damn, if you weren’t thankful for it. 

It certainly was the most entertaining and interesting part of your job. 

1:30 

After lunch came the hardest tasks. Usually, you cleaned the gaming room for the kids, did some laundry—mainly yours since the kids’ clothes were already washed— and watched TV. Again, it was all in a day’s work. 

After vacuuming the rugs, you put away the kids’ toys, wondering momentarily just how much money Mr. Wayne spent on them. Looking at the designer clothes they wore, the latest toys, and gaming devices, you assumed it was well more than what you made in a year. When you had enough of staring at their expensive toys, you ventured into the laundry room. 

Luckily, there wasn't a lot to wash, only some towels along with Dickie’s gymnastics clothes. When you had done the last load, you found yourself settling into one of the lounge chairs in the movie room. 

This was your favorite part of the day, where it lulled just enough for you to relax again. The kids wouldn’t be home for another hour due to traffic, so you had to whole place to yourself.

Alfred sometimes joined you with a bowl of popcorn, but, since it was so close to picking up the kids from school he had to opt-out. At home, you would have been watching one of those usual daytime soaps, but Alfie had started to put you on EastEnders—claiming it was better than any other trash American daytime TV show. It was only after one character had a whole dramatic flare over the smallest inconvenience, did you started to see why it was his, and Bruce’s too, favorite show. He made you watch so much of it that you had started to pick up some of the British slang, which did not amuse him or Mr. Wayne. 

You watched until an idea popped into your head. The kids would be hungry once they got home, as they usually were, so you decided it would be nice to make them their special snacks. 

Happily, you put it all together, and, when the kids came home, you were excited to see their reaction.

3:45

It was almost like clockwork the way they always managed to arrive home exactly at the same time every day. 

You greet all of them with a big hug as you tell them about the treats they had waiting in the dining room. Excited, they were pleased to see that, while Alfred was out picking them up, you had gone out of your way to make their favorite treats. 

Tim grabbed his plate and exclaimed loudly that you were by far the best nanny they ever had. A few of the other kids agreed, and you tried to not let it go to your head so quickly. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to disagree with them. 

They told you all about school, which, ultimately, just turned into a PG gossiping session. Tim told you all about this one kid, who was almost two years older than him, who always called him names and pulled his hair. Almost instantly, based on the last little detail, did you figure it out. Turning around, you looked at the second eldest Wayne who, despite being so sweet, could be devious and a little mean from time to time. 

“Jason Peter Todd, you need to stop being mean to your brother. And what did I say about hair-pulling? At your age, you should know better!” 

Jason gasped, looking around to gain some sympathy. “Why do you think it’s me?”

You cocked an eyebrow and that’s what made the cookie crumble. He confessed that maybe it was him and that he wouldn’t do it again. The rest of the table took their time calling him the future Lex Luthor, much to his annoyance. 

You thought yourself lucky to be the nanny of such sweet kids, even if they were a bit weird. It brought back some happiness in your life that you didn’t know you were missing. 

As the plates started to stack, you clapped your hands together and said, “Alright kiddos, once you’re done with your snacks, get your homework out. The faster you get it done, the faster we can all go play games.”

5:00

Finally, Mr. Wayne came home. 

When he did, the entire house seemed to be in a clamor to get to him first. At least, the younger ones did. Dick and Cassandra seemed more interested if he had brought home any treats for them. When there was none, they turned on their heels and retreated into their respective tasks. That didn’t seem to discourage him though, and he was almost playful with the rest of the children.

When Bruce had thrown Duke over one shoulder and Tim over the other as Jason trailed after them, you took Damian. He had a pout on his lips, and tears in the corner of his eyes. When you asked him what was wrong, Damian informed you that ice cream day had been canceled because, in his words, the teachers were mean.

“Fair enough,” You said, taking him to the kitchen. “How about this, we get some ice cream and watch some TV, huh?”

Damian was close to crying, probably just as exhausted from the day as you were, but nodded his head. You gave him another kiss and let him rest his head on your shoulder. After you plucked a little ice cream sandwich from the fridge, the two of you went to join the rest of the family in the gaming room. 

Bruce was there, tie and jacket abandoned, sitting on the couch playing Dick in Mortal Kombat. It didn’t look like Mr. Wayne knew exactly how to play, but he was getting the hang of it. Now and then, when there was a particular point he didn’t understand, Duke, being the sweetest yet odd kid ever, whispered to him what to do. Why a six-year-old knew how to play a game he was far too young for, you didn’t know. 

Looking down at Damian, it was clear to see just how sleepy he was and you started to get up to put him in his room when Alfred stopped you. He offered to take the boy up and gestured over to Cassandra, who was looking at you with her big brown eyes. 

“Hello, sweet girl,” You said as soon as Damian was gone. 

Cassandra, who was sitting on the floor with a ballerina Barbie in hand, walked on her knees over to you. “Can you braid my hair?”

You grinned, looking at her pretty black hair. It was short, cut just below her shoulder, but you could make something work. She plopped down right in front of you and immediately you began to play with her hair. 

Amidst playing his game, Mr. Wayne looked over in your direction to admire you and Cassandra. When you caught his eye, you winked and smiled. Bashfully, he looked back at the game. Unfortunately for him, Tim saw the whole interaction and started to loudly poke fun at his father. 

Ultimately, that’s how the day went. It was a lot of work, and, again, you didn’t know how you did it. Yet, you were glad that it almost always ended so happily. 

It wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five—It was better.

[slut4thebroken]

Safe

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Your boyfriend just wants to keep you safe… by any means necessary.

Warnings | Smut, dubcon, attempted? SA (not by Jon), manipulation, walking red flag lol, house wife kink?, praise, painful sex, sub space, crying, dacryphilia, breeding.

Words | 2.3 k

Notes | Finally finished the fic from this lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You were kept properly fed and fucked, what more did you need? 

The first time you asked to leave after partially moving in, he was almost offended. He gave you a short “fine, if you want to put yourself in danger, go ahead” and walked away. You didn’t leave, except to occasionally stop by your own apartment. Usually he'd do that for you though. 

The second time, you didn’t ask, you just brought it up. You wondered what he meant by that. “The world— but especially Gotham— is full of people who want to take advantage of you and hurt you. They see your kind heart as a vulnerability they can exploit. Do you understand?” 

“But.. that’s never happened before?” You said meekly. Despite living in one of the most crime ridden cities in America, nothing bad has happened to you yet— you’ve lived a perfectly average life. 

“You were lucky. But that luck will run out. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He said, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. “I care about you too much to do that to you, that’s why I’m not forcing you outside.” The way he twisted his words around to make it seem like he wasn’t forcing you to stay inside was completely lost on you. 

“Oh. Thank you, Jon.”

“You’re welcome, angel. I know it’s scary. Would you like me to help you get rid of that fear?” He cooed, making you blush at the implication behind his words. 

He wanted to be gentle with you… but thinking about how scared you’d look in a situation like that made it hard to control himself. He tried not to get too impatient while he ate you out since he knew you needed the preparation… Once your words were becoming a little incoherent as you begged and pleaded senselessly, he decided you were ready enough. You still struggled to take him, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. You didn’t dare say anything though because of how desperate you were to please him, not wanting to ask him to wait even longer for what he needed. 

“Do you know what those men want to do to a sweet thing like you?” He said, his thrusts slowing into a rocking motion. “They want to take every last ounce of innocence and kindness you may have. And do you know how they’ll do that, my love?” You shook your head, trying to focus on his words and not the feeling of his cock inside you. “They’ll fuck every single one of your holes until they either get bored or interrupted. But they won’t be gentle with you, like I am.” The thought of them being less gentle than Jon was almost unfathomable. You whimpered and bit your lip, not wanting to think about something like that. “No..” He chuckled quietly. “Animals like that don’t care about you. You’re just a set of holes to them.” 

“Jon..” You whined, brows furrowing. 

“I’m just trying to help you understand, angel. I’m keeping you safe, why do you always have to question me?” He frowned, making you falter. “I thought you wanted to be with someone who cares about you and your well-being. If you don’t, then maybe we’re not meant for each other,”

“No! No, I- I do want that— want you. I’m sorry for questioning you, Jon. I won’t do it anymore, I promise.” You begged staring up at him through your lashes as your eyes started to fill with tears at the thought of him leaving you. 

“Are you sure, sweetheart? I promise I won’t be mad.” 

“No, I want to be with you. Please.” He wasn’t quiet for long, but it was long enough to make you start rambling out pleas. “I’m sorry for questioning you, I know you’re just trying to keep me safe. Please don’t leave me, Jon.” You whimpered, making him shush you gently. 

“It’s okay, little one. I’ll stay and keep you safe, don’t worry.” 

To really drive the point home, he staged something. He asked you to go to the store for a few things since it would close before he could get off work. You were on your way back, almost to the apartment building, when someone grabbed you, dragging you back into an alley. The bag fell to the ground and he roughly shoved you against the wall, covering your mouth when you started to scream. He pushed you into the wall with his body, his bulge digging into your hip, and as he started ripping off your clothes, all you could do was cry. You didn’t know how else to react. 

Your shirt was discarded to the floor and when he started forcing your bra off, you tried to put up a little bit of a fight, but he just grabbed your neck and slammed your head into the wall. You whimpered at the pain, hands going limp and dropping to your sides. He finally removed the garment and you barely registered the cold air on your nipples. 

“Yeah, look at how fuckin hard they are— You like this shit, don’t you?” He asked smugly, making you shake your head, but you immediately stopped when your vision started spinning. “I bet this pussy’s wet too.” He pushed your skirt up, then roughly cupped your sex over your underwear, making your cries turn into violent sobs. 

“Hey!” His body was suddenly gone, making you collapse to the floor. “Angel?” Your head snapped up once you registered his voice. 

“Jon?” You whimpered, trying to suppress the sobbing. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He put your shirt back on, then grabbed your bra and the bag before helping you up. Once you were inside his apartment, the crying came back full force. He hugged you and cradled your head, holding you against his shoulder. 

“You’re okay— you’re safe now.” He whispered, holding you tighter. “I’m so sorry, little one. I should’ve never asked you to do that.” He brought you over to the bed and had you lay down. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice thick with something you couldn’t quite discern. 

“My head.” You whimpered, the pain intensifying now that you were thinking about it. He got up to get you some painkillers and water, then laid down next to you and wrapped you up in his embrace. 

“You might have a concussion, so you have to stay awake. Can you do that for me?” You whimpered and shook your head, feeling so incredibly exhausted. “I know you’re tired, but I need you to stay awake. Can you please do that for me?” You wanted to please him so badly that, despite the fact that you were struggling to keep your eyes open, you agreed. All you could think about was what just happened— over and over again. You let out a choked sob and turned your face into his chest to muffle your cries. 

“I was so scared, Jon.” You whimpered, fisting his shirt to ground yourself. 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so, so sorry.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Let me help you forget.” One of his hands started snaking down your back until he reached your hip. He grabbed you hard enough to make you whimper and moved you to lay partially on top of him. “We need keep you awake too.” He said softly. When you felt his bulge against your stomach, your body started trembling even more intensely. 

“I know this may seem hard, but you know I only want what’s best for you. I would never do anything to hurt you, angel.” You nodded with a sniffle and he gave you a pleased smile, then pulled you into a kiss. His hands roamed your body, making you wince when he dragged his fingers over the scratches on your back just a little too hard. 

He quickly removed your clothes and once you were completely undressed, he rolled both of you over and settled between your legs. With gentle hands, he pushed your hair out of your face and wiped the drying tears from your cheeks. You’ve never looked prettier than right now, your eyes glossy and wide from fear, and your lips trembling, staying slightly parted as you took in ragged breaths. 

“My sweet girl.” He cooed. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again. If that means letting you move in with me fully, then I’m more than willing to make that sacrifice for you.” Your bottom lip quivered as you stared up at him with teary eyes, but your expression showed that you still weren’t completely convinced yet. “It’s up to you, darling. Whatever you need, I’ll do it for you.”

“Thank you, Jonny.” You whimpered and he clenched his jaw when you used the name you only use in a certain headspace with him. He always took advantage of these moments. The ones where you were pliant and needy and too dumb to know what you wanted.  

“Of course… I love you so much, little one.” Your cheeks flushed and you looked away from him, embarrassed. He knows how those words affect you which is pretty much the only reason he says them. He cares for you obviously— he’d kill anyone who’d lay a finger on you… except the people he hires for that— but he doesn’t love anyone. Not even you.

“I love you, Jonny.” You whined. He leaned down to kiss you as he worked on opening his pants and removing his cock, making you let out a startled moan when the tip brushed your folds. It took a little more force than usual because he’s been hard since he saw you in the alley and he couldn’t give two shits about foreplay right now. When he finally breached your opening, you let out a pained whine that was overshadowed by his groan. 

“Every time feels like the first time I fucked you.” He said through a breath, leaning his head into the crook of your neck as he panted quietly. “So fucking tight and hot and wet… best little cunt I’ve ever felt.” He moaned quietly. 

“Jon…” You whined and he could practically feel the blush on your neck. 

“I’m sorry, angel, I can’t help it. You feel so incredible, you deserve to know how good you make me feel.” He didn’t let you try to respond before slowly dragging his hips back until only the tip was inside, then forcing his cock back in just as slowly. He got lost in the feeling of slowly rutting into you, your whimpers music to his ears as you just laid there and took it. 

“If you decide you want to stay with me, you won’t even have to go outside— I’ll take care of everything for you.” He cupped your cheek as his eyes bored into yours. “All you’ll have to do is clean up around the house, have a warm meal ready when I get home, and take my cock whenever I need. You won’t have to worry about anything else.” He promised. 

You nodded, staring up at him as your bottom lip trembled. He could tell you were still in pain, but you were already fucked dumb enough that you either didn’t feel it or didn’t care. 

“What else did he do to you? Did he touch you?” He rasped, trying not to sound too eager as he snaked a hand down to rub your clit. Your shaking intensified and you let out a quiet whimper as you nodded again. “Where?” You whined and looked away from him. He could tell you wanted to stay quiet, but his tone showed that he was expecting a response. 

“There a-and… my chest.” 

“I’m so sorry, angel… Were you scared?” He was getting close now. 

���Yes.. I thought— I…” You cut off with a strangled sob and he used his free hand to cup your cheek again. Your crying picked back up and tears were streaming down your face, making his cock throb almost painfully.  

“I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s over now.” Despite his words, you continued crying. Because it wasn’t over. He knew you weren’t in the mood, but he also knew that you were too stupid to realize that right now. You were too stupid to realize he was just finishing what that man started. 

His hand moved down to roughly grope your tits as his fingers picked up on your clit. You were practically frozen beneath him. You weren’t grabbing his hair or clinging to his shoulders like you normally would. You were just laying there limply, taking his cock like a good little girl should.  

“I’m so close, angel. Just a little longer.” He said through a breath. You were whimpering and moaning quietly because of how rough he was being, and he couldn’t help but smile at how pretty you looked. Your lashes were damp with tears as you continued crying, your brows scrunched together from all of the physical and emotional pain you were enduring… 

With one final thrust, he fully buried his cock inside you and let out a low groan as his head fell downward, resting in the crook of your neck. He removed his hand from your clit and wrapped his arm under your shoulders and head, hugging you tightly, making your whimpers and cries get a little louder. He reveled in the way your body was trembling and the way your cunt was practically suffocating his cock because of how tense you were. Grunting quietly, he rode out the rest of his orgasm, only loosening his grip on your body once his cock stopped twitching. 

“Good girl.” He whispered, placing a tender kiss on your neck. He waited until his heavy breathing returned to a normal level, then pulled back to look at you. “I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you ever again.” He said softly. “I’m going to keep you safe, little one. I promise.” Safe from everyone but himself. 

I edited the taglist post so pls take a look ty <3

(For the record, this ⬇️ is why I’m changing the taglist system lmao. It’s just too much😭 This is going to be the last fic (except ongoing fics) that’ll have a taglist fyi)

Taglist

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @scorpiussage @naevisct @jimmywoosimp @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @monsterfromthewoods @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @sheisthedxrkness @ll4n4 @olivialveshbc @feyresqueen @charlottegemyngende @ffionspreach @drcranessweetestdoe @goblinjnr @1nterstellarcha0s @mothhball @anonwrtr @venustusjuliet8 @cillianslvt @bluujaiwrites @jayroytodd @harleyql @lokabrenna0801 @hanawrites404 @soo-woop @sewmxx @havkjhdecs @trumanbluee @twasbrillig71 @punkiebuttons

[leighsartworks216]

Sweet Tooth

Sylus x gn!Reader

I was nodding off while writing this cuz 1. I need a nap so bad and 2. It's just so peaceful the vibes of this fic are really nice

Edit: fixed some minor phrasing

Warnings: biting, kissing, established relationship, fluff, food/baking

Word Count: 1,771

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

No matter how long you spend with Sylus in the N109 Zone, your sleep schedule remains persistent. Sure, you stay up as late as you can to spend the night with him while he’s up and about, but the darkness, warm ambiance, and your body’s own internal clock turn against you sooner or later.

Sylus does the same for you, too. He grumbles about it, but he does enjoy spending the morning with you when you’re extra cuddly, searching for the last vestiges of your sleep before you have to get up. He’s better at staying awake, but you catch him dozing a lot, head tilted back and eyes closed as he lounges in a chair near you. It’s adorable. You love the effort you both put into trying to maximize your time together.

But today, Sylus is conked out. He was gone for most of the night and came back worn and weary. He didn’t have any visible injuries, but when you cupped his cheek and used your Evol, you could feel how drained his own was. He nearly fell asleep right there, eyes closing dangerously as he leaned into your touch and the soothing warmth of your ability. You dragged him to his bedroom, kissed his forehead, and told him to sleep. He mumbled vague threats about you waking him up, but they fell into silence before he finished any of them.

With the mansion to yourself for the day, you have to find ways to occupy yourself.

The twins and you play Kitty Cards for a bit, but they cheat so horrendously and tease you for losing, so that’s out until Sylus can sit behind you and glare at them any time their fingers try to slip more than one card from the draw pile.

You go through his books. A few are interesting; texts about Protocores and Evols stealing your attention for a time. But they have you yawning and wanting to crawl into bed with Sylus.

You even go to his dedicated exercise space, but without a partner to spar with, you don’t even work up a sweat before leaving.

Normally, you aren’t so restless. Any other time you had to spend the day with yourself, you were able to settle on something for long stretches of time, even into the night if you weren’t careful. Now, you can’t sit still for 30 minutes.

You check the time. 9:56. It’s not even 10 yet and you’re already struggling to come up with things to do. You fall into a couch in one of the lounge rooms with a humph, pulling out your phone and preparing to fall into a doomscroll through old Moments posts.

Fortunately, one of the first few posts is the perfect motivator not to: a recipe promising to be the number 1 rated chocolate chip recipe. You click on the article and scroll through until you reach the comments.

These are the best cookies I’ve ever had!!!

mmmnn wanna eat the dough raw its sooo gooooood

Tossing my store-bought cookies out rn I will only be making these from now on

It seems promising enough… You look at all the ingredients you need. It also seems simple enough for you to manage without burning the place down. You’d be surprised if the kitchen wasn’t already stocked with everything listed. But just in case…

You head down to the kitchen where the chef is coming up with meal suggestions for dinner. He’s jovial, always red in the cheeks and bright eyed. You wonder how he got hired on. You ask for help gathering the ingredients you need, and he’s happy to bounce from cabinet to fridge getting everything. Once they’re all laid out on the counter, you thank him and ask if you can have the kitchen to yourself. He bows and tells you to have fun, going over his list of notes as he leaves.

You turn the oven on, setting it to the correct temperature and letting it preheat. You forgot to ask the chef about bowls and measuring cups, but you find them easily and set them on the counter with the ingredients. Once you have music playing (quietly) on your phone, it’s easy to lose yourself in the process.

The world hones in on each step. You measure out the flour and sugars, mixing them together with a whisk. Without any preplanning, you have to soften the butter in the microwave before you can add it. Eggs are cracked against the countertop, calcium-rich shells scraping quietly as you set them aside to throw away later. A dash of vanilla, and a generous amount of chocolate chips, and the dough is ready.

You find a couple baking sheets and line them with parchment paper. As you roll small amounts of dough in your hands, you bounce on your feet, excited to taste your sweet treats in just 15 short minutes. You pinch off a little extra from one dough-ball and pop it into your mouth. If this was a preview for the finished product… You hurry to get them into the oven and set a timer.

To distract yourself from constantly checking the time, you clean up your mess. You put away what you remember the designated locations of, and set the rest aside for somebody else to deal with.

Hm, you should probably leave some for the chef, as a thank you for letting you borrow the space. And save a few for Luke and Kieran, or else they’d bug you for “forgetting” them for the rest of your days.

You open up cabinets until you find plates. There’s a set, the perfect size to divide the batch of cookies between three parties. You reach for it, stretching to be on your tip-toes. You gasp as a hand comes into your vision. When you try to back up, you hit a wall of muscle. A clingy wall of muscle, if the way his arm wraps around your waist and holds you there is any indicator. He grabs a plate from the stack.

“Ah, I need three,” you quickly tell him. He sighs, but does as you say, bringing down three plates and setting them on the counter. As soon as his hand is free, you’re being fully embraced by Sylus, both arms holding you close to him as he presses his face into your neck. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair. “Did I wake you up?”

It doesn’t seem like he’ll answer for a moment, until he breathes in deeply and presses a soft kiss along your shoulder. “No. I could smell whatever you’re making through the whole mansion.” His voice is quiet and rough, affected by his slumber.

You smile and turn your head to kiss his forehead. “I’m making cookies,” you say. “They’ll be done soon. I was gonna leave some for the chef and the twins. But most of them will be just for us.”

You glance at the timer, anxious to know how much time is left, but you still have several minutes before you need to worry about it. You tap his arms and he reluctantly loosens his hold, enough for you to turn around and hug him back. His arms tighten once more.

“You’re clingy when you’re tired, you know that?”

He huffs a laugh against your skin. “As if you haven’t insisted on having me carry you around everywhere before because you were, quote, ‘too tired to walk anymore.’”

You tug playfully at his hair. He groans and bites your neck. It’s not harsh, but it does sting. You’re sure it’ll leave a mark regardless.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he growls.

You laugh and kiss his cheek. “Only a little. I think it’s cute.”

He doesn’t answer. His teeth nibble lightly along an invisible path, interspersed with light kisses. One of your hands combs through his soft hair, scratching his scalp lightly as you pet him. The other trails slowly along his back, side, and around to his stomach, searching for injuries hidden beneath his clothes. He notices, but he says nothing.

“Are you okay?” you whisper to him.

He pulls his mouth from your skin, finally lifting his head to look down at you with half-lidded eyes. The striking red of his irises seem softer right now, like the delicate plumage of a cardinal. “I’m alright.”

You study his face, as if you’d know if he was lying to you. But you believe him. So you nod and press a feather-light kiss to his lips. He sighs at the contact, like he’d never been touched so sweetly for hundreds of years. It’s such a beautiful sound.

The oven’s alarm startles you out of the moment. Sylus groans with a frown, letting you go and stepping away until his back hits the kitchen island. Your hand squeezes his side apologetically before you pull away.

You don a couple of oven mitts and open the oven door. The cookies are all aligned on the baking sheets, golden brown and slightly oozy from the overkill of chocolate you added. You excitedly pull each pan out and set them on the stovetop, before turning off the oven.

The recipe says to let them cool for five minutes… but you don’t have the patience for that today. You grab one of the plates from the counter and a spatula from a drawer, and carefully deposit some cookies onto the plate. You’re positively beaming when you bring them over to Sylus, holding the plate up to him.

“Want one?”

He hums. “Yes, but…” He takes the plate from you and sets it behind him. “You’ll burn your mouth if you eat one now.”

You half-heartedly glare up at him. “C’mon, Sy, I’ll be careful. I worked hard on these!”

“And you can stand to wait a few more minutes to taste the fruits of your labor, sweetie.”

“You just want more cuddles, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He grins. “Is there any better way to pass the time?”

You sigh, long and dramatic. But you wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his chest, right over his erratic heartbeat. He tangles a hand in your hair this time, cupping the back of your neck to hold you in place.

He feels the exact moment you go to reach for the plate and snatches your hand away from it, holding it captive by intertwining your fingers together. “Sneaky, but I’m not tired enough to pull that trick, kitten.”

You chuckle and press your nose against his septum. “It was worth a shot.”

[lilacxquartz]

part 3 of 19 of kinktober: power imbalance

levi ackerman x reader

plot: after one too many dress code violations, captain levi has simply had enough — themes: authority figure, smut, abuse of power, noncon/dubcon, f!reader — w.c: ~1.5k

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

Standing outside of the captain’s office, you nervously leaned against the wall with your eyes locked on the door. You were in trouble again; very likely for violating the uniform code yet again.

When he finally let you in at long last with an eerily calm “you may enter” heard from within, you nervously stepped inside. His sharp steel eyes cut right through you, narrowing at the sight of your loosely fitted harness.

“Unacceptable,” Levi scoffed, giving you a quick glance over, “this is the third time this week.”

You stammered in retaliation, clearly embarrassed, “I-I’m so sorry captain, I’ll fix that right away—“

“—no need,” the captain replied, cutting you off, “clearly all of these reminders aren’t working for you. Maybe a… different sort of punishment… is needed?”

“Come again?” you blinked in slight confusion, unable to get a good read on him. It was admittedly difficult due to his stoic and closed off demeanour.

Taking a few steps forward and pinching at the cuff of your regiment jacket, Levi spoke up in a cold tone while trailing his hand towards the centre, “Firstly, you might as well not even wear the uniform,” he murmured, using both hands now to pull it off your arms, “you won’t learn from my eternal scolding, so maybe I just need to take a different approach with you.”

“Captain please,” you fretted but he quickly drew a finger to your lips before you could protest any further.

“You’ll be quiet for the lesson,” he hushed you, unbuckling the shoddy attempt of a fastened harness, dropping it to the floor along with the white trousers that followed.

You stood frozen in the middle of his office—with your trousers pulled down—praying to the walls that nobody would stroll inside, watching as Levi took a step back to rummage through a nearby shelf.

Once he was back, he seemed to be holding onto a roll of rope that he was slowly in the process of unwinding. “I’ll teach you just how tight the harness is supposed to stay on…”

You took a sharp gulp as the prospect of humiliation looked over you; quickly being met with the bristling fibres caressing the smooth skin of your thighs. The rope was constricting enough to feel a perpetual sort of discomfort.

You wanted to pipe up again and ask if this was really necessary, but if there was one thing you knew about Levi Ackerman, was that he was stubborn when it came to proving a point.

So your complaints might as well be spoken to a brick wall, since he wasn’t going to budge.

Stepping back at last, he seemed satisfied with the display. “That is the exact way, the exact tightness that you’re supposed to wear it on.”

“But sir, it’s uncomfortable,“ you let slip a protest anyway.

“It’s there for your safety, cadet,” Levi reminded you in a stern tone, “a loose fit harness is a death sentence out there on the field.”

“I guess…” you admitted as you trailed off, you technically knew that but there hadn’t been any incidents lately so you let loose for once, “I learned my lesson though, so I’ll just put everything back on and be on my way—“

“—not so fast,” Levi interrupted you, catching your attention before you had a chance to slip away. “I didn’t even dismiss you yet. Maybe you also need a lesson in following orders, huh?”

With a resigned sigh, you braced yourself for what this could possibly mean. “Sorry, I didn’t think….”

“Funny you should say that,” he scoffed, walking up right behind you and pushing you forward so that you were guided towards his desk, “considering your entire job is to listen and to take in commands,” he added, pressing your back forward, making your chest kiss the polished oak table, “and that very much includes from me.”

“I’m sorry captain, I’ll do better—“ you backtracked, quickly realising the error of your ways.

“—yeah, you will,” Levi interrupted you for the second time during this whole exchange, “because you’re going to follow them right now.”

Before you could say anything, he pinched the fabric of your underwear by the hem on either side before slowly pulling it off of you. Such an action caused you to freeze, wondering exactly what was going on right now. You seemed to have an idea where it was going however given that his actions didn’t stop there.

Levi’s hands felt calloused against your skin, his flesh meeting with yours like rugged stone against silk. He pressed his hips tight against your form; the close contact making you slightly recoil but also shudder with heated anticipation.

“First lesson,” he muttered under his lips, “you’re going to be quiet for me, got it?”

With a brisk motion, you hurriedly nodded as you adhered to his command. You didn’t want to admit it, but there was something oddly arousing about the situation he had you in, despite it being very, very much wrong.

Albeit involuntarily, your body reacted to his sweeping touch with the slight arch of your back, inviting him to take control of the situation even further.

Ever so carefully, Levi slid his fingers right behind you and against your sex, feeling a wave of heated surprise flood within him when he realised how nice you felt to his touch. He pressed two pointed digits together and prodded at your soaked entrance, taking the plunge and easing his touch to reach inside.

Levi hummed to himself, as though pleasantly surprised, by how easily you took him in. “You’re so wet. Are you… enjoying this?”

However, you didn’t dare to reply out of pure and utter embarrassment rising from deep within you. While it was true that something about this situation was surely turning you on, you couldn’t possibly admit such a thing. Instead, you bit at your lip in an attempt to stifle away a gasping breath that threatened to escape too early, before he even got started—if he would at all.

With a hint of slight amusement evident in the air, Levi began to lazily pump his fingers in and out of your cunt. The languid motions were frustratingly teasing, barely doing enough to bring you over the edge and then, without a warning, he withdrew them. You remained silent for a moment, quickly realising that from the faint rustle of his clothing dropping and his own loosening harness, that the lesson was in fact far from over.

Leaning in his still clothed form over yours wherever he could reach, he drew his hand forward to pull at your hair, closing it into a tight fist with the strands ensnared. “Remember, not a single sound.”

Barely given a chance to nod or say anything at all in return, you were locked into stunned silence as you felt him position the tip of his throbbing length against your sex; entering you with less patience than when his fingers teased at you. Inch by inch, he eased his cock to be fully enveloped by your core, shuddering out rolling, raspy breaths from how good your pussy felt.

Levi then began to move, rocking his hips at a purposeful pace; each thrust pushing in as deep as he could reach while in between your legs. Each rutted slam sent waves of rising pleasure sweeping across your body—pushing the simmering tension further and further up towards the surface—reaching a near boiling peak.

From a festering, almost scalding heat that settled within the confines of your body, you especially felt the ropes on your body now. Sweat gathered at the coarse fibres, rubbing raw at your legs in an almost painful way. You continued to try and keep quiet as he pounded into you, but both the pain and the sensation of being filled alike, elicited an untamed moan to escape from your lips.

Sensing that you were close, Levi picked up the momentum in increasing, almost feverish fervour. His hands clenched around your hips to keep himself steadily locked around your frame, bringing both you and himself to an almost violent impending orgasm.

Feeling the tingling heat begin to coil and and tighten in your body, finally washing away like a blissful radiating heat—your body stuttered in warm desire. As you finally came undone, you melted flat over the desk, panting out strained gasps as Levi too, released himself into you with a deep, final thrust.

Levi found himself leaning into you to catch his breath after; his body entangled in your limbs as you both shuffled around to steady one another. A silent exchange passed between the two of you before he finally helped you get up.

With a grunt, he finally broke the quiet tension, “I’ll trust that you’ll behave yourself now?”

Despite feeling worn out from the intense exchange, you managed to yawn out a reply, “Of course, captain.”

Although it was very much clear from the sultry tone in your voice that such a promise was in fact a lie and Levi might in fact see you again very, very soon.