#i want us to watch the snow fall together!!

[anas-aspiration]

Saw requests open for Vi....

Now, I love angst. Love it so hard. And Vi and Caitlyn are, you know... ;)

So I request some sort of angst scene where Vi is caught in her feelings for both Caitlyn and reader and it could end badly or goodly! I'd read either way.

Dissentient.

Vi x fem! reader

Summary: You and Vi had everything before she stopped talking to you for a relationship with Caitlyn. It wasn’t that she didn’t love you, she was afraid of her feelings for both of you and what would happen if she didn’t choose Cait.

Warning: Angst, Alcohol, cheating

You swirled the ice in your drink around before taking a fat swig of it. The bar was buzzing with people, causing the temperature to be drastic compared to that of outside where snow painted the streets. You used to come to the last drop to drink with Vi all the time but today your eyes follow her hands as she brushes Caitlyns hair behind her ear across the bar. Just weeks before this she had held you in her arms and promised forever while whispering “I love you” softly against your neck. The following day she would have ghosted you. You spent hours rotting away on your couch wondering what exactly happened. Then word came to you that Caitlyn asked if they could take their relationship a step further as well as Vi become an enforcer. At that point, what could you do? They were coworkers and probably fucked in the mansion that is Caitlyns bedroom every night.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender roughly spoke out.

You raised your gaze from your drink to the stubby man then you realized he was not talking to you.

“I’ll take two of what she has.” Vi spoke behind you. You locked eye contact with her and the energy between you immediately intensified.

“Hello.” You hesitantly said.

“Hello. You alone princess?”

You scoffed. “Would that concern you?”

“Oh come on.” She rolled her eyes playfully and leaned closer to your ear. “We don’t have to act like you didn’t miss me.”

“Here you are!” The bartender hands Vi the two drinks looking proud of himself.

She takes them in hand and brings one to her lips. She raises an eyebrow as she takes a sip. “Hm. Good taste.” She raises the glass at you while turning away.

You swiftly grab her wrist, surprising even yourself and definitely Vi. “I didn’t deserve it.” You stated with more confidence than you had before.

“It? You mean me giving you space?” She looked offended.

“Don’t misunderstand me. Space? That’s the last thing I want with you.” There was a brief pause between your bantering. “Wanted.”

“Meet me in the bathroom in ten minutes.” She turned on her heel and walked away faster than you could argue.

For two minutes you stayed contemplating whether or not it’s worth it to talk things through with Vi. At four minutes you packed your things into your purse and stared at the exit. After seven minutes you engaged in light conversation with a stranger next to you. Nine minutes passed and you were asking the kind stranger to hold your seat and watch your drink.

You leaned against the door, its cool surface pressing into your back as you studied Violet’s eyes—soft, powdery, and full of something unreadable. The small distance between you felt heavier than it should have, thick with unspoken words.

“So… does she know you’re in here talking to me?” Your voice was even, but there was an edge to it, a sharpness that cut through the quiet.

Violet pressed her lips together, before she opened her mouth. Finally, she exhaled, the word slipping out like an admission of guilt.

“No.”

Your stomach twisted. You turned away for a moment, then dragged your hands down your face before letting them fall into your palms. A heavy sigh escaped you.

Violet’s fingers found your wrists, her touch light but firm, as if she was afraid you might pull away. Her hands were warm against your skin, grounding, though it did little to ease the weight settling in your chest.

“No,” she said again, more urgently this time. “You know I’m not like that.” A breath shuddered past her lips. “Well, I swear ‘m trying. Really am.”

You lifted your head, meeting her gaze with an expression that said everything you didn’t. Really? You could tell she was starting to slur her words.

She winced at the doubt in your eyes, her grip tightening just slightly.

“Come on,” she pleaded, something desperate laced in her voice. “She made me choose.”

Your brows furrowed.“Choose?” you repeated, your voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “You mean… me or her?”

Violet sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on her shoulders. “Yeah.”

You stared at her, waiting for some kind of follow-up, some kind of justification that might make this whole thing make sense. But there was nothing—just that one word, flat and resigned.

You let out a breath, half a scoff, half an incredulous laugh. “What the hell, Vi? Is she crazy?”

Violet let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “No, she’s not fucking crazy.” But even as she said it, something in her eyes betrayed her—a flicker of doubt, a silent question she didn’t want to acknowledge.

You leaned forward slightly, searching her face for an answer she wasn’t giving. “You left me,” you said, your voice quieter now but laced with something raw. “With no explanation. For someone who had the audacity to make you choose between us.” You let the words settle before continuing, your voice growing sharper. “Do you have any idea how childish that is? How unfair?”

Violet’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy, carrying the weight of everything left unsaid.

“Right,” you said flatly, your voice devoid of emotion.

Violet’s gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders slightly hunched as if bracing for impact. “I had to,” she murmured. “If I wanted to make a change around here.” She lifted her head just enough to meet your eyes. “And look, I am. But this… situation—it doesn’t mean we can’t still see each other.”

You blinked, trying to process what she was saying. Then you let out a short laugh. “Are you joking?” Your eyes searched her face, looking for something—guilt, remorse, hesitation—but instead, there was something else. Something almost hopeful.

“I know what I did was fucked up,” she admitted. “But you have to understand where I was coming from.”

You didn’t move, but she did. Her hands, slow and deliberate, slid up your arms before one found your waist, the other tracing the edge of your jaw. The warmth of her fingers sent a shiver down your spine, betraying the anger still lingering in your chest.

“I can make it up to you,” she whispered, her breath warm against your skin. “Please, baby.” Her lips were inches from yours now, her body pressing just slightly against yours. “Just let me make you feel better.”

Her touch was familiar, intoxicating, and for a moment, you felt your sadness waver.

Her lips were soft, gentle in a way that made your chest ache. It was almost reassuring—almost convincing—that what you thought had slipped away between the two of you hadn’t been lost after all. That the connection, the quiet understanding, the fire that once burned so effortlessly between you was still there, waiting beneath the surface.

For that moment, you allowed yourself to believe it. To sink into the warmth of her touch, the familiarity of her breath mingling with yours. It felt like muscle memory, like something your body still recognized even if your heart wasn’t sure it should.

The hand ghosting over your waist slid down to grope your ass. You let out a gasp into the kiss, exactly as you knew she liked it.

“Mmmph. She— fuck, she doesn’t have to know.”

A/n!!: me when I’m supposed to be doing homework.

[fatuismooches]

I BRING FOR THEE SOME JOLLYFULL DOTTORE FLUFF....

I wish I could celebrate christmas with Dottore and his segments ommmggg.... IMAGINE all of the segments fighting to have their gift to you opened first 💀💀 full on brawls (while theyre all fighting Zandy comes up to reader and gives them his present LOL sneaky mf)

OG Dottore using the pufflings as ornaments for the christmas tree 💀 reader is NOT amused. All the segments eyeing their presents from reader and having to hold themselves back from pouncing on the wrapped gift. augugushisohobskbbkds

Reader getting them all the dottores theur own personalized gifts, each one unique and they're all so happy and yippeful!!!! 😭

(side note I cannot wait for winter break omg.....) - 🐓

AHH YES!! HOLIDAY SHENANIGANS WITH DOTTORE AND THE SEGMENTS!! <3 Ah you would have to be the one to convince him to do all this stuff... honestly, he considers the holiday spirit and traditions rather a waste of time and doesn't see the point, but, you look so happy and excited! And you've gotten little Zandy on your side too, telling him all the stories and sweet things people do on Christmas. So now he has two gremlins begging him for just a little bit, the tiniest touch of Christmas decoration. Fine.

Admittedly, gift-giving is not one of the segments' strong points, their idea of gifts is rather... well, very Dottore-like, if you know what I mean. But, you still treasure anything they give you, so they don't have that much of a problem! (Though you probably shouldn't answer their question if they ask you what you want. Because then you'll end up with like a dozen different copies of the same gift.) Also, they're very competitive when it comes to this. It's like a battle to see whose gift you liked the best, so please try to love all of them equally because you don't want to deal with an overly gloating segment. (Bb Zandy definitely does that!! Clever little boy taking advantage of the chaos to give his favorite person their gift! Ahh he probably did something handmade like a storybook for you and was worried that it wouldn't be as good since it has no monetary value but, you reassured him you love it dearly.)

NOOOO Prime being mean to the Puffttores as usual!! He picks the lil guys up by that strand of blue hair and hooks them to the tree... and watches as they miserably fail to get free... you immediately unhook the poor babies. If you think about it, your gift is probably like, the first gift they've ever received before. So they are ANTSY about what possibly it could be. One segment was caught trying to open his gift and you gave him a swift scolding. (AHH the image of you carefully wrapping all of their gifts and adding their name tag to each is sooo!!)

Mistletoe traps are a must as well. The minute you jokingly tell them about the tradition of kissing under it, suddenly they are placed in the most random areas of the usually grim lab. You brought this upon yourself.

You also bake some different sweets for them on Christmas morning as well! You leave the trays to cool for a few minutes but when you come back, everything is already gone. Sigh.

[gojonanami]

“ A HOUSE IS NOT A HOME ”

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

summary: you come home after a long day of work unable to find the person you call home anywhere — until you reach the bedroom.

warnings: 18+ suggestive, fluff, comfort, some angst, implications of the shinjuku showdown arc, implied gojo is no longer a sorcerer, gojo is your househusband, taking a bath together, taking care of him, copium really, satoru being a silly man

w/c: 1,184

“I’m home!”

You call into your home, the clatter of your keys and shoes as you shedded the things that chained you to the outside to submerge yourself in your oasis and into his arms. But as you got no reply, you stepped into your living room, scanning over the kitchen, to find no one.

Now where was your home?

“Satoru?” you called, heart skipping a slight beat, he was always waiting for you when you got home, usually on the couch or maybe in the kitchen the clank of the knife as he chopped away. Or even the many times that he was waiting by the door to only ambush you with kisses. But this time, nothing.

You rounded the corner to the hallway and peeked into your bedroom to find him asleep. You crept closer, careful not to wake him, and yup, he was fast asleep. His pretty snow white lashes resting against his cheeks, his chest slowly rising and falling as the soft sounds of his breaths parted his lovely lips.

You could watch him sleep for hours. You knew he never did enough of it before, and you’d argue he still didn’t do enough of it now. He always said he was fine sleeping 6 hours since it was twice as much as he usually got — and now he was working at home, so he could be ease.

But even so, you know he needed more.

As if he senses your thought, he stirs, starry blue eyes finding yours as he flutters sleep from his gaze, “sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, voice still beautifully raspy from sleep, “when did you get home?” He’s shifting to get up, but you use gentle hands to ease him back, “I haven’t started on dinner yet, sweets—“

“I got it, Toru,” you’re running your fingers through his hair, “just rest, baby,” and a protest is already on his lips, “let me guess what you did today — cleaned the house from roof to floor, stocked us on groceries, cooked lunch for me for the week, and probably a million other things,” you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, “I think I can handle dinner for one night at least,”

He’s pouting now, “but you just got home from work, Princess, what kind of househusband would I be—“ and you can’t help but laugh, he loved his self appointed title of househusband, especially since it was one he had chosen for himself, and he took any opportunity — even now to call himself that.

“I think even the absolute best househusbands need a break, and should listen to their wives, since I’m the one you want to pamper so much,” and his lips party in protest, but you’re leaning down to kiss them and his pout away, “let me take care of you, Toru,”

He’s sighing, as he leans up to press his forehead to yours, “and does your offer include a bath, sweetheart?”

~~~

“Y’know sometimes I feel guilty,” and you pause in your massage of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, suds from the bath you’d drawn for him covering both of your bodies as he leans against you in your tub, back pressed flush to yours.

“Guilty about what?” you ask, holding your tongue on the million reasons why he shouldn’t.

“For so long, I was the strongest,” he gives a small chuckle, “and it was fun, sometimes. But it was mostly lonely,” he leans back to look up at you, a small grin on his lips, “except when I was with you,” your lips curl, “and now I get to be with you, and I get to stay home — and the worst thing I have to do are the dishes,” and you snort.

“I told you I’d do them if you hate them so much,”

But he’s shaking his head, “Sometimes I think trying to deal with our cast iron is worse than fighting Sukuna—“ and you roll your eyes, “but there’s always this urgency that I have to be doing more. Telling me to keep going, moving, fighting—“

“You’ve done enough, Toru, more than enough,” your fingers cup his cheek, “too much, honestly. It’s okay to rest now. You’ve done your part—“

“But—“

“Didn’t you or someone say jujutsu is like a marathon, a baton pass?” Your fingers run through his white locks, before you shift yourself to sit in his lap instead, “the marathon is over, racers have packed up and gone home, and the finish line has been crossed,” your fingers rest on the back of his neck, tracing his undercut, “and that’s because of you and all you did to fight and raise up the next generation,” you say softly, and he’s pressing his head to your forehead.

“Is it okay for me to rest now?” and you’re pulling him into your arms, hoping your touch conveys what your words can’t.

“Yes, it is, Satoru,” you’re pressing soft kisses to his neck, “you don’t need to be the strongest. You’re Satoru Gojo, and that’s all I want,” and he leans back, “you’re all I want,”

“Is that a proposal?” And you snort.

“We’re already married, weirdo—“ and his lips find yours, as they always did, his arms around your bare waist, as the water shifted and splashed, but you could barely feel anything except his lips against yours and the circle of his thumb against the small of your back.

He finally pulls away, a genuine smile on his lips, “And you married this weirdo,” and you chuckle, tracing his jaw with your finger, “you’re stuck with me for life,”

“Promise?” And he’s kissing you again in an instant, stealing your breath like he did the first time you met him all those years ago at jujutsu tech. And you knew you’d never love anyone else — not like him.

“Promise.”

Bonus:

Satoru’s arms wrap around you from behind as the two of you towel off after your bath, “what are we having for dinner?”

“Well someone insisted on me being in here with him, so I had to order out,” and he’s grinning, as he nuzzles your neck.

“Whoopsie, hehe,” and he’s humming, as he tugs your hips against his, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips, “can we have dessert first?”

“It is dessert. We’re having ice cream for dinner—“ and he’s kissing you again, but this time it’s languid and messy — all tongue and teeth, until he’s pulling away with a smirk at your breathless face.

“I want something sweeter, wife,” and you smile.

“Think you can finish before the delivery gets here?” And he’s already picking you up with ease in his arms, pinned under him in a moment, as his ocean blues flash with mischief from between your thighs.

“I can, but I don’t know if you’ll be done by then.” He says cheekily, as you only sigh.

If there was one thing that would always be true is that you would always be weak to Satoru Gojo — but not his abilities, but who he is.

Your husband.

“Let’s see, hm?”

a/n: I’m real upset about the leaks and this is my coping. I needed this.

taglist: @staryukis, @cloverlilies, @asgoodasdead666, @strawmariee, @chuuyasboots, @forest-fruits-jam, @catsgomurp, @rat-loves, @hanlay, @risuola, @spider-fan72, @sunamatic, @difficultdomains

[fabled-fiction]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺️ Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him. 

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?” 

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?” 

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw. 

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards. 

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

-

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety. 

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…” 

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

[anxiousbabybird]

Love and Deepspace men x fem!reader slightly unhinged HCs

I started Love and Deepspace yesterday so please have my slightly unhinged HCs for the men so far. And minors don’t you dare interact

Part 2

Rafayel

He’s a biter. Leaves you covered in marks from your neck all the way down your thighs.

Plans a date where he’s laid out a huge canvas on the floor of his studio, puts your fave color paint on your hands and his favorite color on his hands, plus several globs of the two colors across the canvas, and then proceeds to have the wildest three rounds of sex on that canvas as it gets progressively more covered in paint. Sells the painting for 6 figures a few weeks later and uses it as an excuse that you need to make more of them.

Tells you his best masterpiece is painting your body with his cum—got really into it once and dipped the paint brush into your cunt to collect his cum and then painted it across your breasts

Has a secret sketch book that’s nothing but pictures of you. Lots of them are of you sleeping when he can study your features but there’s still quite a few he drew from memory.

Made you lay down naked with your legs spread and be still so he could draw the most detailed image of your pussy you could possibly imagine. It’s his personal fave that no one besides him will ever see.

Sees shibari as a beautiful art form and likes to practice with you—has a whole album in his phone just of pics of you tied up all pretty for him

Rarely gets soft in a serious way, he much prefers the teasing back and forth you two usually have.

Xavier

He’s definitely broken into your room Edward Cullen style and watched you sleep

His favorite dates are taking you into the forest at night to watch the stars and moon together. Bonus points if you come across a wanderer and get to fight together.

Clingy after you become his, always wants to be touching you and doesn’t let you out of his sight (and yes that means sometimes he’s following you but it’s just because you’re brave and reckless and he worries)

When he eats you out, he holds both your hands in his for you to hold on to and does it with no hands—makes you cum more times on his tongue than you could fathom (and yes, he’s eating you for his pleasure)

Downloaded a tracker into your watch so he can know where you are at all times

Gets horny when he watches you fight and has def pulled you aside during a mission for a quickie in which you end up having your cunt stuffed with cum for the remainder of the mission

Such a cuddler but like a cat where he only wants to cuddle if he wants to—falls asleep nearly instantly in your arms like the cute sleepyhead he is

Zayne

Finds it so cute the first time he comes to your apartment and sees all the little snow creatures he’d made you sitting in a windowsill together. Makes you so many more after that. Sends you a bouquet of flowers made from his ice too (#Elsa)

Has food delivered to you at lunch on days he knows you’re super busy so you don’t forget to eat since you often forget to take care of yourself (he doesn’t mind too much since he likes that you let him take care of you)

Prefers kisses over hugs, except when he’s sad because of a patient (then he likes the warm comfort of your hugs)

Moves his glasses to the top of his head and rubs the bridge of his nose when he gets really stressed

Brings you a mild painkiller after blowing your back out, a smug but tiny smile on his lips, and tells you, “I was a bit rough so humor me and take this medicine. I don’t want you in excess pain because of me.”

Loves when you want to lay on his chest when he’s reading through cases and medical journals at night. He’ll read them out loud until you fall asleep and then finish them quietly as you snore softly into his chest

Calls you before a difficult surgery because your voice instantly calms him down

Into bondage—specifically he likes to tie you up so you can’t escape when he starts to overstimulate you. He really can’t help it, you just make such pretty noises for him when he gets you to that point that he has to keep going

Tags: @adaurielle @luffysprincess @seraphofthesimps

[rememberwren]

Complicated Pleasures

OR: Home Videos. You (fem!reader) and Ghost have been married for years when your prodigal friend Johnny finds out that you make and post porn together. Feelings happen. 13k

About this: m/m, f/m, oral f and m receiving, anal sex, PIV, kink, pornography, sir kink, slight objectification, objectionable writing, soft!simon, very soft fic altogether, cum sharing.

-

((A video begins.

 A bed in a tidy room. Identifying features have been hidden: pictures placed face down on the nightstands, blinds drawn tight until the room is cast in a cool glow. A woman sits amongst the nondescript bedspread and sheets, her legs tucked up against her chest and arms wrapped around her thighs, naked except for the mask that does little to truly obscure her face. 

Once she knows the video has begun, it is like she blooms, arms and legs falling away to reveal the soft petals of her nakedness: the  plains of her body, the angles and curves. She’s near perfect, Soap thinks, already fisting his hard cock. 

She looks almost exactly like you. 

Then a man walks around from the other side of the camera, and Soap’s heart leaves his body.))

-

“Johnny!” you say brightly, throwing open the front door. In streams the cold air and bright sunshine reflecting off the snow, and in steps Johnny with snowflakes in his hair and on the shoulders of his coat, gifts wrapped in bright shades of gold and silver tucked beneath one of his arms. 

He stomps his feet, boots shedding packed snow on the doormat, and leans in to deposit the gifts a safe distance away so that he can open his arms and gather you up in them. Your fingers tangle in his jacket, holding him close. He is warm even after coming in from the snow, his scent like Christmas itself: woodsy pine and crackling fires. You feel Simon’s presence appear in the living room doorway and begin to pull away, trying not to hog his friend, even if you desperately want to. 

“Lookit you, bonnie as ever,” Johnny says against your ear. He lets you go, bending down to unlace his boots and call a greeting to Simon: “I see you brooding over there, LT. Happy Christmas to yeh.” 

“No titles at Christmas, Johnny.” 

“Yessir.” 

“You didn’t need to bring gifts,” you scold him.

“Of course I did—it’s fucking Christmas,” says Johnny with a grin as he straightens. He passes you the gifts, a small package and a larger one, each wrapped by a practiced hand that you sense must not have been Johnny’s own. You wonder if there isn’t a girl in his life now—except you and Simon had extended the invitation to one, if so. Why he wouldn’t have brought her, you couldn’t understand. 

Maybe his mum wrapped the gifts. 

Simon and Johnny clasp hands which turns into a hug. Watching them together makes the dust settle in some riotous part of your heart. The two of them—their friendship—just makes perfect sense in its improbability. 

Simon mutters something under his breath and Johnny nods, burying his face deeper into Simon’s broad shoulder. You have the perfect vantage point of Johnny’s face: his eyes squeezed shut, long lashes resting on his cheeks.

A timer in the kitchen goes off—the roast you’ve been cooking since the early morning hours. Excusing yourself, you disappear into the kitchen, pausing just beyond the doorway to press your chilly hands to your flushed cheeks. 

Wine. You needed wine. 

-

“So,” you begin once the three of you have sat down for dinner. “Fill us in, Johnny. What have you been up to?”

The unsaid words linger between you all, What have you been up to during the three years you left? Johnny gives a wane smile, and you think that maybe the time spent apart didn’t serve him nearly as well as he’d hoped it would—however he’d hoped it would. Simon sits at the head of the table, his ankle tangled against your own beneath the oak. It’s a comforting reminder of his presence, considering he lets you and Johnny do most of the talking for now. 

“Whole lot o’ nothing,” Johnny says, sipping at the wine in his glass between sentences. “Traveled abroad fer a while. Spent some time in America, some time in South Korea.” 

“Sounds like a nice place to meet people,” you say, aiming for subtlety the way a sledgehammer might. “I notice you didn’t take us up on our invitation and bring a lass with you.” 

“No lass to bring, hen,” he says smoothly. 

Simon’s ankle stirs against your own, some silent attempt at communication. When you glance over toward him, his eyes are on his plate, face stoic, revealing nothing. 

“Any lads?” you guess. 

Simon’s fork squeaks against his plate. Johnny stops eating. For a moment they both stare at you in shocked silence. Then a grin spreads over Johnny’s handsome face, blooming straight into laughter. He shakes his head, like you have said something very silly. 

“No, no lads,” he says.

Simon’s ankle shifts again. 

You reach for your glass of wine, face hot—

-

—and you don’t stop drinking. 

Afternoon turns into evening, and by the time night falls, the three of you have drunk your way through three bottles of wine and successfully caught each other up on your lives to date. Simon and Johnny have slipped out onto the porch twice to smoke, bringing back in the scent of tobacco and snow, one you don’t mind at all. The fire in the fireplace burns low, crackling and spitting as the log splits. The room is strewn with torn gift wrapping. Simon has already unboxed the knife Johnny had made for him, testing its weight in his palm, testing the sharpness of the blade against the pad of his thumb. (Add that to the list of things which shouldn’t arouse you about Simon but do.)

It reminds you of the idyllic Christmases that you had reached for all your life and only ever skimmed with your fingers. You should have known that the missing piece was Johnny all along. 

Wine drunk, you have kicked your feet up on Johnny’s lap at one end of the couch and curled your upper half on Simon’s lap at the other end. It is easy to fall asleep to the warm lull of their voices, swapping stories from their time in the military together. 

But all at once, the subject matter changes, and it drags you from the threshold of sleep into some misty gray area in between a dream and wakefulness. Eyes still closed, you listen. 

“I found you both, you know.” Johnny’s voice is barely more than a whisper, difficult to hear over the crackling fire. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Johnny. We’re right here.” 

“I found your videos.” 

Your hands tighten into fists where you are clutching Simon’s shirt, eyes cracking open as you put the pieces together in your mind. But he’s smoother than you are, always able to keep a cool head. He sounds a little bored, a little confused as he asks: “What videos?” 

“Never known you to play dumb LT. You know the ones I mean. The porn.” 

A lengthy silence as Simon weighs his options and likely decides that there’s no use in lying. “You did, did you?” 

“Aye.” 

A pause.

“So that’s why you finally came back. Three fucking years she begs you to at least come for Christmas—who knew all it would take was a little pornography to put a fire under your arse.”

“That’s not—didn’t even find it until a few days ago, after I’d already said yes—“ Johnny says, voice rising in his defense. 

“Careful. We don’t want to wake her up, do we?” Simon’s hand pets against your hair, softer than a kiss from the wind. Though he must know you’re awake, you’re grateful that he lets you pretend, lets you hide away while he handles this. “If she knew that you’d seen those videos, she’d be embarrassed. That would make me upset. You understand?” 

“Aye,” he says, lowering his voice a little. He rests his hand against your ankle in his lap and then decides it’s not appropriate, shifts his hand back to his own thigh. You miss his touch. You’ve always missed Johnny’s touch more than you should miss the touch of your husband’s best friend. “But if you didn’t want people to see them, I don’t understand what you were thinkin’ posting them online.” 

“Three guesses. No, go on. Never known you to be shy. Guess.”

Johnny wets his lips. “You didn’t think you’d be recognized.” 

“There’s one.” 

“You…you like it.” 

“There’s two. Give us a third.” 

“She likes it.” 

You groan a little in embarrassment, turning your face away from where Johnny can see its profile, burying it in Simon’s lap. He’s hard, a fact you only realize when his jean-clad cock rubs against your cheek. You go still, eyes widening as this knowledge goes straight to the warmth that’s been stoked between your legs more often than the fireplace has tonight.

Simon’s hand finds the nape of your neck and rests there, keeping you still and quiet. It reminds you of your last video, when he had taken you from behind and put his hand on the nape of your neck to urge your face into the bed, his hips snapping against your ass. Where had the camera been, then? You couldn’t remember. That was Simon’s one rule, besides the masks and never saying each other’s names: don’t look into the camera. 

“So what do you plan to do with this knowledge, Johnny?” Simon asks. You hold your breath, still feigning sleep. “Who do you plan to tell? You know I don’t have anyone left who would give a fuck, but I’m sure you could find someone for her—someone who could shame her and make her feel bad for trying to feel good. Is that what you want?”

“Fuck no. I’d not tell a soul,” says Johnny fiercely. His hand comes to rest on your ankle again. This time he leaves it, thumb brushing the bone. “I swear it.”

“Then why bring it up at all?” 

“I…I don’t know,” Johnny admits, head ducking. “I just had to. Spending time with yeh both, knowing what I knew—it felt dishonest.” 

Simon hums. “You know what I’d like to know?” 

“What’s that?” 

“What our single friend was doing looking at couples porn.” 

-

The night ends quickly after that. Simon carries you to bed—the bed where you film so much of the porn that Johnny has apparently seen—and helps you begin undressing while Johnny gets his boots on in the other room. 

“I’m so embarrassed,” you breathe, quiet so that Johnny could not overhear if he happened to be standing right outside the door. Your head is spinning, and only partly from all the wine. Your face burns. Your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Johnny has seen the videos, the ones you and Simon cheekily dub ‘home movies’! God, how you will ever face him again is beyond you. 

“Give me the word and I’ll throw him out,” says Simon. “We’ll never see him again.” 

That makes a sick feeling rise up in the back of your throat. You look up at Simon and take in the somber, angry-adjacent expression on his face, and you know that he is serious. Simon never says a word that he doesn’t mean. But you can hear what he didn’t say, the words unspoken: it would kill him to do it. All their years spent watching each other’s backs, it would be hard to stab Johnny’s and leave him in the cold. Especially after the bliss of just getting him back.

You don’t want that. Not for Simon, not for Johnny. Not even for you. 

“I like Johnny,” you affirm. “I just don’t know how I’ll face him.” 

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. He’s the pervert looking in through our window.” 

“We’re the perverts fucking with the blinds wide open,” you remind him. 

“I’ll see him out. Finish getting undressed,” he says, disappearing through the doorway. You hear the warm timber of his voice matched by Johnny’s and the sound of the front door opening. Two sets of boots crunch through snow, and now the voices are so far away that you can’t even make out their tone, much less their words.

Stripping the last of your clothes off, you roll onto your belly and bury your face in your pillow. Tonight had been going so well. It was hard to believe how far off course things had become. What was Johnny doing looking for couples porn anyhow? 

You roll back over, staring into the darkness of the ceiling. The answer was simple: because it would get him off. It didn’t matter if it was tentacles to titjobs. He’d more than likely been looking up porn while he jerked off. 

Had he realized right away that it was you and Simon and turned the video off in disgust? Or had it taken a moment for it to sink in? Had he cared at all? 

Or had he jerked off instead? You realize you are rubbing your thighs together belatedly and force yourself into stillness. 

The front door opens, Simon stomping inside and taking off his boots. When he joins you in bed, his cheeks are still cold, mouth minty from hastily brushing his teeth of tobacco and wine. You lean in and kiss him, looking for comfort. He kisses back, sweeping his tongue through your mouth, sucking on your lower lip. 

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” you whisper when you both part, not necessarily out of truthfulness, but because you feel like you shouldn’t be in the mood. 

“Wasn’t expecting anything.” 

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heart. Your embarrassment is a little lessened now, abated by the calm that Simon exudes from his pores. It’s hard to believe that anything in the world could go wrong that Simon couldn’t handle with a twist of his hand or a few choice words. After a while, you glance up to find him still awake, staring into the darkness of the room. He meets your eyes and gives you one of his rare, wane smiles. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him. 

After a moment of silence, he says: “Our next video.” 

- 

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WAKING UP MY WIFE WITH MORNING SEX. Soap knows that he shouldn’t click on the link. The first time was an honest mistake, but anything afterwards is intentional—and unforgivable. If Ghost were to find out…Soap doesn’t even want to think about it. 

Except why would it be wrong for Soap to do it but right for a bunch of strangers? 

He doesn’t need to look down to know his cock is hard. Against his better judgement—or any judgement at all, really—he clicks the link. The video starts with Ghost in the frame, completely naked. He’s seen LT naked often enough (it’s unavoidable in such close quarters as they have shared) but he’s never looked, not like this. 

Time has barely changed him. He is still fitter than any man has the right to be, thick with muscles that are for functionality and not just for show—though the show is still impressive. 

While he’d always known that Ghost would be a sight to behold, seeing it in this context cements a fact in his brain, one that had sent him running years prior: he’s attracted to his closest friend. All the bad flirting disguised as taking the piss back when they were in the 141—it wasn’t just taking the piss. Not for Soap, at least.

In the video, Ghost exits the frame and crosses to the other side of the bed. He’s not wearing a mask this time but the upper half of his face remains solidly out of frame until it is offscreen again. You are positioned closest to the camera, laying on your side facing the audience. Your face isn’t visible, but your breasts are once Ghost draws the blankets down, down, and then down far enough to reveal your closed thighs. 

Fuck, Soap wants to see your cunt. He grips his cock tightly and squeezes, watching raptly as Ghost loops an arm over you and begins to softly tease your nipples. Soap slips a hand up his shirt and thumbs at a nipple of his own, wishing it was the other man’s touch. His cock leaks where it lies thickly against his belly as he watches his former lieutenant tease you, trace figures over your naked body, and at last slip a hand between your thighs, working one of your legs over back of his own. Now Soap can see just a trace of your slit, so soft. It makes his jaws ache, makes him want Ghost to hold your thighs apart so that he can lick and suck you into a frenzy.

He can tell the exact moment you wake. Your body stiffens, mouth falling open as Ghost sinks two of his fingers inside you. One of your hands reaches down to grip at your husband’s forearm as you scramble into wakefulness.

“Good morning,” Ghost says.))

-

The doorbell sounds, telling Simon that Johnny has arrived, but he lets his Sergeant wait out in the cold while the kettle finishes filling. A not-small part of him is still holding a grudge against Johnny for making you so embarrassed. It had taken time for you to come into your own. Courage. The videos had been your idea, whispered in the heat of the moment beneath the cover of darkness—but with time you’d been bold enough to talk about them over dinner. To read the comments with him and laugh. To watch the videos and end up in bed all over again. 

Now he could see the hesitation in your eyes whenever he pulled out his phone. 

Johnny’s expression is its typical one, open, friendly, when Simon opens the door. When he sees Simon, those blue eyes grow wide before he can curb the reaction. Johnny swallows, throat bobbing. 

“Hey LT. Lookit you. Laswell really has yeh behind a desk now doesn’t she?” Johnny’s hand reached out like he’s going to touch the tie that still dangles from around Simon’s neck, but he thinks better of it. 

Just another hunch of Simon’s proven right.

“What part of no field work confused you?” Simon asks, stepping aside to let Johnny in. 

“No confusion. Just didn’t expect yeh to look so…” He trails off, eyes flittering over Simon from his combed hair to his dress shirt stretched tight across his chest to the dress slacks that cling to his thighs. “…fancy.”

“I don’t wear the tie for Laswell’s benefit. But you already knew that.”

Johnny flushes, as good an admission as any. Wisely, he says nothing, following Simon into the kitchen and taking an offered seat at the kitchen island. His eyes flicker around the room, similar to how they had on Christmas. Then, Simon had mistaken it for Johnny taking in the way things had changed—the wallpaper is new, as is the backsplash behind the oven and stove, there are new pictures on the refrigerator—but now Simon suspects that Johnny is remembering. Piecing together backdrops he has seen in their videos. 

“The missus home?” Johnny asks, drumming his fingers on the granite. 

“No. Work.”

Simon pours tea for two, even though Johnny hates tea, and slides it across the countertop to him. To his benefit, Johnny accepts it without complaint, warming his hands around the mug.

“I told her.” 

Johnny doesn’t need to ask what or who—they’ve both been thinking about it since the moment he walked in. Simon watches as his face twists with naked regret. It tells Simon that Johnny really didn’t know that you were only feigning sleep on Christmas. 

“Is she angry with me?” 

“Embarrassed.” 

Johnny looks outraged on your behalf. “She has no reason t’ be!” 

Simon shrugs as if to say, This is what your curiosity bought her, Johnny. This is the price she’s paying. Johnny’s shoulders sag under the weight of his own guilt, elbows bracing themselves on the countertop so that he can put his face in his hands.

“Maybe,” says Simon, “it would make more of a difference if she heard it from you.” 

Johnny looks up, brow furrowed. “Heard what from me? That I’ve seen her—like that?” 

Simon’s eyes roll to the ceiling. “No. That she doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of.” 

Johnny turns the idea over in his head. He’s clever, but too blinded by his own desire to see the manipulation for what it is. What does it matter if it’s Simon’s idea or his own? Johnny is dying to talk to you. 

“You’d give me her number?”

Simon shrugs.

“Alright,” says Johnny at length, drawing the word out. “I can do that. If you think it will help.” 

Simon says nothing, sipping at his tea to hide any smugness behind his cup.

-

((The video begins in a kitchen, one Johnny has been in many times. You are there, back mostly to the camera, pressed against the granite island countertop. Simon is on the other side of you, consuming all your attention. Steaming Jesus, he’s huge compared to you, huge compared to everyone. He’s dressed in his work attire: dress clothes, dark tie in place. The effect is jarring in contrast with the mask. 

Simon reaches up and works his tie loose and off over his head. You tilt your head down a little and on it goes, easy as anything. When Simon turns you to face the camera, the tie dangles between your bare breasts. One hand on the nape of your neck, Simon bends you forward towards the granite and Soap can tell the exact moment his cock slips inside you based on the way your mouth falls open, your eyes squeezing shut behind your own mask. 

Soap isn’t sure who he’s jealous of more—you or Simon.))

-

Simon told me that he told you what I found. I just wanted to message you myself and say how sorry I am if I embarrassed you. 

You sigh reading over the text message. Flexing your fingers, you give a quick glance toward where Simon lays dozing with his head against the back of the couch, feet up on the coffee table (the knife he got for Christmas rests on his chest; he’d been toying with it absently for the last half hour) and answer: There’s no reason to apologize. It’s not your fault I’m embarrassed. 

It is though, isn’t it? You don’t care that other people see. You just care that I did. 

You pause and bite at your nails, thinking over his words and how to respond. He’s mostly right. There had been an aspect of embarrassment at first when you and Simon began posting the videos (and that embarrassment had gotten you off to a certain extent, though it didn’t usually). But eventually that heated shame had melted away into eagerness for the camera. You’d read the comments on the videos, countless human beings talking about the various ways they masturbate to your sex with Simon, talking about the things they wish they could do to you, with you, with Simon. 

So why was it so much more embarrassing knowing that Johnny had seen? Because he knew you. Because he’d seen the parts of you that you had purposefully covered up for the camera. No one was meant to see both sides—no one was meant to have all of you. Except for Simon. 

But if somebody was going to do it, a small part of you is glad it was Johnny. 

You’re Simon’s friend, you message back, curious. Didn’t it feel strange to see us like that? 

Honestly? He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Not as strange as I might have thought. 

-

((AMATEUR COUPLE: WIFE PRACTICES HER BLOWJOB SKILLS, the video is aptly titled. You are on your knees, hands tied neatly at the base of your spine. Simon sits at the edge of the bed, camera positioned perpendicular to you both, with a downward angle.

You lean forward and let his hard, flushed cock disappear past your lips deeper, deeper, until you reach the limits of what you can take without preparation or practice. His hand comes down to rest softly against the back of your head as you make yourself gag and choke around the thickest part of his cock. There’s no need to hold you down; Simon doesn’t even bother.

Soap’s jaw aches, desperate for a chance to be on his knees for Ghost like that. He could take more than you—he knows he could. Not that it had to be a competition, not when you both could share a cock that size and barely notice the other was there. He strips his own cock thinking about it, eyes falling shut as he lets the background noise of the video—Simon’s gentle praises, your whines and chokes, the wet gurgles of a throat being fucked—carry him over the edge.))

-

New Year’s Eve. 

The house is full of bodies and laughter. You feel near-delirious with your own joy, never made happier than by the happiness of the people around you. Alejandro and Rodolfo had flown in and were staying in the guest house through the New Year, arriving only yesterday with enough luggage for four between the two of them; Kyle and his girlfriend; John and his wife; Kate and her partner; even Farah and her brother had made a pit stop to spend the evening with you on their way back to Urzikstan from the Americas. 

The party had been BYOB, and everyone had taken to the sentiment and more. Farrah is mixing drinks in the kitchen, strong concoctions that even John struggles to keep down. Gaz and Alejandro keep insisting on shots (which you politely decline just as often as you agree. Simon drinks nothing, his tumultuous past putting him off of hard alcohol for good).

People are well and truly drunk by the time Johnny arrives. The whoops and hollers that fill the house have you thinking that midnight has come early. A swarm of bodies surround him, and he is forced to make the rounds hugging each person and being taken to task by them for being gone for so goddamn long. 

He arrives at you before Simon, and his face softens, smile going a little unsure around the edges as he opens his arms for you, the first time he’s seen you in person since Christmas. You could rebuff him, but you also can’t. It’s Johnny. Nearly tripping to toss yourself into his arms, he lifts you a few inches off the floor, nose buried in your hair. 

“Bonnie as always,” he whispers into your ear after putting you back down. His hand tugs teasingly on the short hem of your dress, like he is trying to lengthen it, knuckles brushing your thighs. You swat his hand away, face flushing with warmth. It wasn’t that short. 

“Johnny,” Simon calls. The two men embrace, hug lasting longer than any other. In the distance, you see Gaz elbow Price, jerking his head toward the two men. 

You put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, anxious suddenly. Simon draws back, clapping Johnny on the shoulder. He orders: “Get yourself a drink.” 

“Yessir.” 

“None of that.”

“Games? I was told there would be games,” Gaz says, situating himself between you and Simon. He’s dressed smartly in a dress-shirt with the collar undone. Someone has put a party hat on him, cone-shaped, to celebrate the New Year. You had managed to wrestle Simon into one for thirty seconds before the first of the company arrived; the memory makes you smile. 

“I have Cards Against Humanity,” you offer. 

“Oh, I love that game,” Kyle’s girlfriend says to your delight. 

“No—no—we aren’t in middle school here,” Johnny says. “And if we are, then I want to play truth or dare so my chances of getting kissed tonight rises exponentially.” 

“Come over here and they will,” Gaz offers. 

“Don’t make promises you’re not ready to keep, Garrick,” Johnny warns, grinning. 

“Sounds like something a coward would say, all due respect—” 

Then Johnny has a fistful of Kyle’s shirt, hauling him in for a bold though chaste kiss on the mouth. You are suddenly hyper aware of Simon beside you, standing tall and very still while everyone laughs and cheers at the men’s antics. You can’t deny it’s a pleasing sight, but a part of you feels irritated with the whole display. 

“Jesus Christ,” John sighs, tipping his hat back on his head. “Soap’s right—if you’ve got a normal deck of cards, love, I know  plenty of games for adults to play.” 

“Not sure I want to play those kinds of games with you, John,” Kate says somberly to the laughs of everyone around her. 

“We’ve got cards,” Simon mutters. 

Farah calls to you from the kitchen, asking you to try her latest conglomeration of alcohol. Eager to be anywhere but there, you escape to the kitchen. You lift yourself up onto one of the stools at the island, taking the red plastic cup from her hand and sniffing it. Just the smell burns the hairs of your nose. 

“Jesus, Farah, this could kill me,” you laugh. 

“Pathetic,” she says with a grin to lighten her words. “I think I saw some apple juice in the refrigerator, would you like that instead?” 

“Alright.” 

“A warm glass of milk, perhaps?”

“You’ve made your point,” you say, eyes narrowing in good humor. Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves (and stomach), you take a generous swig of the cup. Fuck, it burns going down and it burns in your belly, like swallowing a lit flame. You cough a little, trying not to gag, and hold up your thumb to her. “It’s great—so good—“

Simon comes to sit beside you at the island. He takes the cup, smells it, and raises both brows. 

“Can I tempt you, Lieutenant?” Farah asks.

“No.” 

“Then I won’t try. Where’s John, he’s never afraid of a challenge.”

Unseen to her beneath the island, fingertips brush your stocking-covered thighs. Your knees clamp together on instinct as you fight not to look over at Simon. What is he doing? 

He strikes up a conversation with Farah about her time spent in the Americas. When his hand doesn’t move, your thighs relax a little. He was just being intimate; often he liked to have a hand on your back or his foot resting against your own beneath the table. It wasn’t his fault you were on edge. Your head spins a little, thanks to the shots and Farah’s drink. Planting one elbow on the countertop, you try to focus on her stories when Simon’s hand moves again, slipping further between your legs. The hem of your dress has ridden up so high in your seated position that it doesn’t take much for his fingertips to graze against the heated seam between your legs. 

You clamp your knees shut again. He pinches your thigh softly, just enough to get the message through to you. Staring at Farah, hearing nothing, you spread your shaking knees again and let him cup you between your legs. Fuck. You tilt your hips, making as if to adjust your position on the chair. It only serves to bring you in closer contact with Simon’s hand. A groan is born and dies in the back of your throat. 

He keeps you there, holding your cunt, having a fluent conversation with Farah while your brain melts out your ears. At length, he stands. Leaning down, he says in your ear: “Outside, two minutes. Go out the back.” 

Then he disappears amongst the sea of people 

-

Three minutes later you are shivering out in the snow. Your coat only helps so much with your legs bare save for your stockings. You hadn’t even had time to lace up your boots. Shifting from one foot to the other in the spotlight of the floodlights to keep warm, you cast glances left and right wondering from which direction Simon will come, wondering what he wants that couldn’t have taken place in doors. 

At last he appears, looking far warmer than you in his olive green jacket and jeans, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You smile at the sight of him. He doesn’t smile back. 

“Put your hands against the wall.” 

“Simon?” 

He sighs, running a hand over the curve of your waist, testing its fit in his palm. “Now I’ll have to edit that part out. Let’s try again. Put your hands on the wall.” 

You see then the phone placed just-so in the breast pocket of his coat. The glossy camera lens stares back at you, no flashing red light, nothing nearly so 1999. But you knew it was filming. What was it seeing now? The house in the background, the cool blue siding and brick. You, face surprised, lips chapped from the cold weather lately, your sexy little golden dress nearly obscured beneath your coat. 

“The time to back out is now,” Simon prods you. 

But there’s no way you’re backing out, not after the kitchen. Not after the hazy arousal you’ve been walking around in all night just at the thought of seeing Johnny again. Turning around, you reach out with shaking hands and place them against the freezing cold siding. You can see your breath like a smoky plume with each of your frantic exhales as Simon’s hands grip your ass, slipping beneath the hem of your dress and finding your stockings to tug them down around your knees. 

“Got to keep quiet for me,” he says. “Can you do that?” 

“Yessir,” you whisper, wishing you were close enough to the house to rest your heated cheek against it. 

Simon gives a heavy exhale at your words and you grin, unseen. 

Your panties join your stockings stuck around your knees. It doesn’t give you much space to spread your legs, but Simon is so lengthy that he doesn’t need the extra room. He doesn’t press against your back, ever-conscious of the camera and its angles, but you hear the sound of his belt being undone and like a Pavlovian response, it has you drooling between the legs. His cock is burning warm when it brushes against your ass, and you find yourself arching your back, seeking to put that heat inside you. 

He hums, hands spreading you wide as he can for the benefit of the camera, even if the lighting isn’t the best to see your entrance. 

“Pretty fucking girl,” he mutters. The position can’t be comfortable for him, but he’s never seemed to care about that. He reaches down to grip the base of his cock and guides the head inside you. It is a tight fit without any preparation, but he keeps the penetration shallow, rocking you back and forth on just the head, sometimes letting his cock slip free to brush against your aching clit. Your teeth clamp together, desperate to keep your sounds in—usually during home videos, Simon encouraged you to be noisy (“for the audience”). Now you found yourself struggling not to give in to the old habit. 

All of the sudden, his hand is in your hair, turning your head, guiding it to change directions until you are looking at your footsteps in the snow leading back the way you came—

Until you are looking squarely at Johnny, standing nearly frozen in the snow at the edge of the house. He’s wearing his coat and boots, hands jammed deep into his coat pockets. The darkness makes it hard to make out the subtlety of his features, but you can tell that his mouth is dropped open in an expression of near comical disbelief. 

You barely manage to keep from choking out Simon’s name, your entire body going stiff—your cunt rippling around his cock. He laughs, a low rumbling chuckle that has you squeezing your eyes shut. A whine slips free from your throat and the wind must carry it straight to Johnny, because you hear his quiet, Steamin’ Jesus. 

“He’s been waiting for this all night, I bet,” Simon mutters, his hips snapping against yours. Your hands scramble to find purchase against the siding, slip down a little to grip the bricks which offer you more resistance. “Watching you flit back and forth in this dress, knowing what you look like underneath it. He wishes it was him fucking you right now.” 

“No,” you gasp, scandalized. 

Simon just laughs again. The sound doesn’t embarrass you, just ratchets your own dizzying arousal higher. You can’t take your eyes off of Johnny, who has stumbled two or three steps closer in the snow and now has his hand against the house very similarly to you. His other hand is in a fist at his side. Closer like this, there’s no mistaking the heated expression in his eyes. Nor the bulge in his pants. 

“Oh God,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut again and turning away. 

“Look at him—look at him. He wants to touch himself,” Simon says, borderline conversational as his dick makes the most heinous squelching noises inside your body. “But I don’t think he’s got the balls.”

One of your hands comes off the bricks and reaches down between your thighs—but Simon grabs it at the last moment and pins it back in its place, sending you nearly to tears. 

“Cum on my cock or don’t cum at all,” he says, feeling cruel.

The both of you know that that likely means you won’t cum at all, not like this, and the knowledge threatens to undo you. He’s going to get you three-fourths of the way there and then leave you like this, edge you in front of all of your closest friends and not satisfy you until the very last one has left. Tears well in your eyes, beading up at the corners. 

Behind you, his thrusts grow sloppy. You dare another glance towards Johnny and see his turned back, both his hands in his mohawk gripping at his hair like he is fighting with himself. Your eyes fall shut; you’re fighting a battle of your own, you can’t be concerned about his. Simon groans lowly, filling you with his seed. He pulls out in a wet rush of fluids, reaching down to stave off his dripping seed and save your leggings from destruction. 

Gently, he fucks his cum back into you with his fingers. He wipes it across your swollen folds and in the soaked crotch of your panties before pulling them back up to rest safely on your hips. Bending down, he wipes his hands clean in the snow and then on his jacket before helping you pull your stockings up into place. The tears in your eyes have overflowed by now, dripping down your cheeks and off your chin. When you glance over, Johnny is gone. 

“Okay?” Simon murmurs, fiddling with his phone. He stops the video. 

“Yeah,” you sigh shakily. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

-

Moments to midnight and you are searching for Simon. His figure should be easy to spot, but his head isn’t visible above the sea of people, nor is his baritone voice audible amongst the cacophony of others. 

Someone else is notably missing as well. An itch in the back of your brain swells, one you have to follow to scratch. 

Countdowns begin. You peek out the window nearest to you but see no sign of either man outside in the snow smoking. Watching couples pair off, you pad on bare feet (having kicked off your heels ages ago) toward the master bedroom, slipping into the dim hallway that forks off to the bedroom, the guest bath, and the office. That hallway is where you find them, standing in the dark toe to toe. Simon has Johnny up against the wall, clutching fistfuls of Johnny’s shirt, nearly tearing it. In the dim lighting, you can barely make out their features. 

For a moment, you think they are about to come to blows. You are ready to step between them, to take either of them by the ear like an old school matriarch and remind them that they are friends and they love each other and this is no way to act amongst family—but then the others cry out for midnight and they kiss. 

Oh God, do they kiss. Johnny’s shirt strains in Simon’s hands as he lifts the other man the last few inches needed to slot their mouths together comfortably. There is no chaste peck, no soft exploration of tongues, it is a frenzied open-mouthed devouring of each other, jaws flexing as if to open up and swallow the other whole. 

Claps and cheers ring out in the living room, jolting Simon and Johnny apart. Before you can even string together a sentence, Johnny has brushed by you, one hand pressing at his mouth. He grabs his coat and leaves out the front door without so much as a goodbye to anyone. 

-

The party is over. The sun is rising. Alejandro and Rodolfo have retired out to the guest house leaving you and Simon behind to clean up the mess in more ways than one. Eyes tired but brain buzzing, you come into the living room with a half-filled trash bag in your arms to find Simon sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, his head in his hands. 

You drop the trash bag and go to him, climbing into his lap. He sighs and lets his head rest against your breasts, breaths slow and deep, not betraying any of the turmoil that might be going on in his mind.

“He’ll be back,” you promise, stroking your fingers through his cropped hair. “He’ll come back, baby.” 

You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

“Have you two done that before?” you ask.

Simon shifts. He turns until his ear presses against your sternum, like he is listening to your heart for the answer. He says: “No. Once—almost, I think. But you know what he’s like. So fucking persistent. And bright. Like he’s got the bloody sun inside him.”

“You never told me.” 

“Wasn’t anything to tell.” He looks up at you with dark eyes, decidedly grim despite his words: “We doing this?”

“Seems so,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails just to watch how his eyes get heavy. Simon so often denies himself simple pleasures, but he deserves them. The simple ones and the complicated ones. 

“He belongs to me,” Simon says at length, slow, like he is working it out for himself. “Just like you do.”

“No baby,” you remind him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. “He belongs to us.”

-

((It becomes a degenerate ritual. 

Soap gets home from work and showers. As soon as the steam hits the bathroom mirror, he’s hard, but he doesn’t touch himself; refuses to. He showers and cleans himself perfunctorily, cock aching. It is just as familiar with this ritual as he is, just as hungry for it. It knows what is coming. 

After he is clean and dry, he’ll go naked into his room and bring out his laptop. He always sits at his desk—hates having the laptop on his lap, wants it somewhere stable and safe so he can have both hands free to touch himself—and then he brings up your porn page with Simon. There are more than fifty videos he can choose from. Some he has only seen once, especially those early videos when you both were still getting a feel for the process and working out your nerves. There are others that are old favorites, ones that he knows every word to, one where he could mimic your every sigh and whine if he wanted to. 

And sometimes, like on nights such as this, there’s a new video. His heart jumps to his throat. 

AMATEUR COUPLE: ARGUMENT TURNS INTO SEX (NO AUDIO). Fuck, just the title has mind whirling. It was just for show, surely—he couldn’t imagine you both filming one of your actual arguments for the sake of good pornography—but he was intrigued nonetheless. Some of his favorite videos featured Ghost getting a little rougher with you, and you giving back as good as you got. 

He clicks the link. The video begins in the bedroom, recognizable to him now as your own. The camera is in the corner facing the bed at an angle giving a wide vantage point, like a voyeur standing at attention. Like Soap himself has snuck in and is watching. Just the thought has him gripping the base of his cock, a soft groan passing his lips. 

You’re sitting on the bed, mask in place. Your arms are crossed, mouth downturned into a frown as Simon enters the screen. The first minute or so truly looks like an argument, the occasional jerky hand gesture from you coupled with Simon’s clipped responses. Soap tries to read your lips, but he’s never been very good at it; he can’t make out a single word of what the two of you might be saying. Then the aura changes, the tense energy from the argument turning into something slicker, something sexual as Simon comes around the bed and puts his hand on the center of your naked chest, pressing you back, back until you are laying down. 

You fight against him, batting his hand out of the way. He pins you down easily, so much larger and stronger than you. Soap grips his cock at the thought of being in your place, being pinned to the bed with Ghost’s massive figure over him. Ghost wouldn’t need to be gentle with him either, not the way he was with you. Soap wouldn’t mind. Soap would like it, the same way he liked it in the hallway at your house when Simon gripped him by the shirt and nearly jerked him right out of his boots. 

Your head comes off the bed, mouth chasing Ghost’s—but he draws away. Soap can almost hear the laugh he clearly gives, the rumbling chuckle that would be tangible in his chest. You grit your teeth together, jaw tight. Now when Simon bends down to kiss you, you turn your head away, a childish game of cat and mouse. He grips your chin and turns it back toward him, heavy on the eye contact. When you two finally kiss, it is rough, two hungry people searching for dirty secrets behind each other's teeth. 

Ghost kisses his way down your body, sucking bruises wherever he can. By the time he’s in between your legs, you are writhing, hands gripping his hair and trying to guide his mouth to the place that needs it most. He tugs your thighs over his shoulders, pins you to the bed with one massive forearm, and eats you out like a starving man. The angle for the camera isn’t the best here, but Soap can’t take his eyes off of you anyway: your body tight as a bowstring, breasts pressed together from the position of your arms, tendons of your neck straining as your head tilts backwards. 

Soap begins to work his cock over faster, watching your pleasure. When Ghost stops, he leaves you on the edge if your tortured expression is anything to go by, but you let him maneuver you into the position he wants—hands and knees, an old favorite for LT it seems—but this time is special, because this time you are forced to face the camera dead on. 

It’s like you’re looking Soap in the eye. The brief flash of guilt this gives him only serves to ratchet his desire higher, his cock dripping precum over his knuckles as he fists it. Ghost slips his cock inside you and sets a brutal pace that you are eager to meet, your hands twisting in the bedspread as you press yourself further back against his cock. 

Ghost leans down and mutters something in your ear. More than ever, Soap misses the audio. Whatever he says has your eyes flashing to meet the camera lens, and you do so with near girlish shyness, like you are seeing it for the first time, like you have only just noticed it’s been there all these months. Your eyes can’t catch on it at first, flittering away every chance you get. Ghost’s thrusts slow to deep grinds. He wraps a hand around your throat and says more, lips moving against the nape of your neck. Fuck, what Johnny wouldn’t give to be able to read lips. 

This time you look back at the camera and keep your eyes there. Ghost resumes his thrusts, each one making your breasts bounce softly, but your eyes never leave the lens, always quick to return even when they briefly fall shut. 

Your pleasure waxes when you slip a hand between your thighs, and you begin murmuring something repeatedly, just a discrete little movement of your lips. But at Ghost’s prodding, you begin to cry it out louder and louder until Soap is damn near sure that you are screaming, your lips forming the same syllables over and over again if only Soap were able to make them out. Your eyes roll back as you cum, arms growing weak until you dip and rest your upper body against the bed giving the camera an excellent view of Simon fucking into you from behind, the arch of your body, the curve of your waist to the width of your hips. 

Soap cums when Ghost does, Ghost’s head lolling to the side as his thrusts grow sloppy and forceful, making a mess of you no doubt. 

It isn’t until later when he’s in bed that he recognizes the word you were chanting for what it is. 

How it took him so long to recognize his own name he’ll never know.))

-

He comes back. 

Simon has just returned from taking Alejandro and Rodolfo to the airport. Ever since New Year’s Eve, there has been a quietness about him which breaks prior records. Neither of you say it, but if Johnny leaves this time, it will take more out of him than it had before. It will take something out of you, too. You spend the days trying to keep busy, checking your phone too often for texts that don’t come. 

You’ve just taken the kettle off the stove when the doorbell rings, and both of you know. Your eyes meet across the kitchen. Simon nods his head toward the door, and you rush to answer it, feeling your heart in your throat. Johnny stands there on the step looking sheepish and cold, his boots and the bottom quarter of his jeans wet, like he has walked here from a great distance. 

“May I come in?” he asks. 

Simon appears behind you. Johnny gives him a wavering smile. Without a word, you hold the door open, stepping aside to let him in. 

“Didn’t think you’d be back,” Simon says coolly.

“Didn’t think I’d be back either,” Johnny admits. He wets his lips. “I…I need to come clean. It’s eatin’ me up inside. Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t fucking think without it being about the two of you. I don’t know what to do with myself except put myself at your feet and ask fer your forgiveness.” 

“Johnny, that’s not—”

“No,” says Simon, stilling the words on your tongue. “I think that’s a good place to start. Get on your knees, Johnny.” 

Johnny blinks once, face the picture of innocent ignorance—but then he is dropping to his knees hard enough for you to hear them crack against the hardwood underneath. He obeys without thinking, because that is something that has always been easy for him to do: obey Simon. Think later. 

Simon’s hand reaches out, slow enough to give Johnny a chance to flinch away, but he doesn’t. Instead Simon threads his fingers through Johnny’s mohawk, the sides which are growing out just a little too long. Johnny’s eyes fall shut at the touch, and the whole thing goes straight to your belly, arousal making your head light. 

“You liked watching so much,” Simon says, voice low and quiet. “I think it’s time we put you to good use.”

-

“We have rules. Don’t look at the camera, don’t say each other’s names, and do as I say. Can you handle that?” Simon asks. 

“Rules of engagement. Yessir.” 

Simon snorts softly at Johnny’s eagerness. “Glad to see you still know to follow directions. But let’s see how well. Strip. Everything off. You won’t need it.” 

Johnny’s hands find the neckline of his shirt and tug it off over his head, revealing a body that is all smooth muscle and tan skin. The dark hair on his chest thickens just below his navel, trailing down into his jeans which he unbuttons without ceremony, feet working to step out of his shoes at the same time. He keeps his balance well, already slipping into a focused, strangely familiar headspace. You make yourself as small as possible on the bed, arms looped around your legs, eyes watching him hungrily. It’s been so long that you’ve wanted to see Johnny like this; now that it’s on the verge of becoming true, you feel shy and unsure. 

Johnny keeps his eyes on yours while he pushes his pants down his thighs and steps out of them. He smiles at you, soft and understanding, and only then do you let your eyes flicker down to take in his cock: he is hard, uncut, thick as Simon even if he can’t have him beaten in length. His dexterous fingers wrap around the shaft, stroking himself, the flushed head disappearing and reappearing in his fist. 

“What do you think?” Simon asks you, voice a low rumble at your side. His eyes are watching you, concerned with you first and foremost. “Is he pretty enough?”

Johnny makes an offended sound. 

“I’d say so,” you answer, aiming for unaffected and landing somewhere amongst breathless. Already you can feel the tension between your legs, a deep seated ache as your pussy drools onto the sheets below you. 

“You want to suck his cock,” says Simon. It’s not a question, but your head bobs anyway. “Go on, then. Crawl to him.” 

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawl to him, focusing on the mechanics of it instead of trying to feign sexiness. At the edge of the bed, you slip off and down to the floor amongst the pile of his clothes, laying your hands on his thighs and looking up at him from beneath his cock. 

He lets out a shaky breath. “You’re gonna suck my dick?”

You nod. 

Johnny looks to Simon with a helpless expression as if to ask, What do I do? When you glance back over your shoulder, you see that Simon is giving him nothing to work with, face a blank slate except for his raised brows. Phone in hand, aimed at the two of you. The sight of it seems to steel Johnny’s nerves. He’s never been one to be shy.

“Go at yer own pace, lass,” he says.

Leaning in, you trace your lips against the side of his shaft, feeling the velvety softness against your mouth. He smells like he showered before he came over, though you wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t. Johnny always smells good—even on those days before he went away when he and Simon would go running together, pushing each other to their limits, returning sweaty and exhausted. Now after all this time you get to see if he tastes as good as he smells. You part your lips and leave open mouthed kisses along his length, looking up at him through your lashes when you feel his fingers sink into your hair. His mouth is parted as he watches you raptly, pupils blown wide. 

Confidence mounting, you take the head past your lips and suckle, treating him just as soft and sweetly as you know Simon won’t. Above you, he groans, hips jerking until you take another inch or two past your lips. You let him, rising up on your knees to adjust the angle, sinking your way down until his head brushes the softness at the back of your throat. Taking a calming inhale, you swallow and press forward, letting him sink into your throat until your gag reflex can take no more and forces him out. 

Johnny moans like he’s dying, his hands shaking as he fights not to thrust into your throat. Words stream from his mouth, filthy Scottish-tinted praises that have you wriggling in your place, desperate for a hand between your thighs. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Simon asks. 

“Never seen no one like her,” Johnny gasps, one hand letting go of your hair so that he can wipe the drool from the side of your mouth. He gives a weak laugh. “And I—fuuck, fuck—I’ve looked.”

“She’ll suck you off until you tell her to stop. Doesn’t matter how long you leave her at it,” Simon says. Fabric rustles behind you, and you ache to be able to turn and see what he is doing. But you are more determined to prove your goodness to Johnny. “Sometimes when I work from home she keeps my cock warm at my desk.”

“Dunno how you get a goddamn thing done with her mouth around yeh.”

“Discipline.” 

“I left mine in my other pants—fuck, I’m gonna cum. Are you one of those dirty girls that swallows?” he asks. 

You nod. Simon is there suddenly, a warm presence at your shoulder as he passes Johnny the camera. Nearly wrecked, Johnny’s hands shake as he aims it down at you, looking at you through the lens. His balls draw up, cock lengthening that last little bit as he spills into your mouth. 

“Don’t swallow,” Simon says at the last moment. You whine but obey. Simon pulls you up and nearly makes you dizzy with the way he kisses you, licks into your open mouth lapping Johnny’s seed from your tongue. 

“Jesus, Mary, ‘n Joseph,” Johnny breathes, belatedly remembering to turn the camera onto you both. This will likely be the messiest video you’ve ever made transition wise, but you have a feeling that it will be your favorite. 

When the kiss ends, you swallow and pull off to open your mouth, showing Johnny—and the audience—what they want: that you’ve swallowed your portion like a good girl. 

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have cum,” Johnny laughs weakly. “We’ve barely started. I don’t want this to be over.”

“You’ll cum again,” Simon says. “But it’s time to give someone else a turn. Sitrep?”

Johnny is all grins. “All good here, sir.” 

It makes you shiver to hear Johnny call him that. You’ve heard it countless times before, but never like this. The context turns the word into something foreign, something sexy. Not to mention, you know exactly what it does to Simon. Not for the first time, you wonder if his wires didn’t get a little crossed during his time enlisted, if he didn’t learn that particular kink from hearing Johnny chirp it at him every day. 

“Good boy,” says Simon softly, reaching out to ruffle Johnny’s mohawk. Johnny bats his hand away, but it’s impossible to miss the way he flushes from the cheeks down his chest at those words. Simon sets the phone on the tripod in the corner, making minor adjustments, and then turns his eyes to you. “C’mere.”

He sets you up against the headboard, your back against his chest. He parts your thighs, reaching down to use his thumbs to spread your sex open for Johnny’s hungry gaze, for the camera’s lens. You hide your masked-face behind your hands, hips rising toward his touch, desperate for the stimulation. 

“Pent up?” Simon asks, voice rough.

A sound slips past your lips, low and needy.. 

“This what you want?” His calloused fingers ghost over your swollen clit. 

“Yes,” you mumble, voice muffled by your hands. 

“Be a good girl and you’ll get it. You know how to be a good girl?” 

“How?”

“Stay relaxed. Keep your thighs open. And don’t lie to me. Can you do that?”

You nod. Yes. Easy things. You fight to relax your body, loosening your muscles. Your hands fall to rest against Simon’s thighs, eyes cracking open to watch Johnny who has seated himself at the end of the bed out of the way of the camera’s view. When he sees you looking, he smiles, reassuring and warm. His cock, which had been soft moments ago, already looks noticeably more interested in the events taking place. 

Simon drags his fingers over your clit. You tense all over, sucking in a breath before you remember his first rule and relax, going loose and soft again. He waits, patient. The next time he strokes you, you stay malleable, and he hums deep in his chest, pleased with the progress. His hand cups your whole sex, palm huge compared to you. 

“When was the first time you ever wanted to fuck our boy over here?” Simon asks. 

You know that he can’t use Johnny’s name, not on film, but neither you nor Johnny had expected the flashbang of this term of endearment. Johnny seems to melt, his eyes going heavy-lidded at the thought of being ‘your boy’. You can’t help but feel the incredible rightness of his words. They resonate deep in your chest like the ringing of a bell, tangible down to your fingertips and toes. Johnny is yours, and he is Simon’s. 

“How long?” Simon asks again, more firmly. 

“Since—since you brought him home.”

Simon slips two fingers past your entrance as a reward for your honesty. Their thickness has you gasping, fingers scrambling for purchase against his thighs. He hums something in your ear—probably a reminder about trying to relax—and you do try, but it is hard when you ache as badly as you do. You find yourself digging your heels into the bedspread, lifting your hips to try and work his fingers deeper inside of you. He feeds them to your cunt all the way to the last knuckle. 

“How’s she feel, sir?” Johnny asks. 

“Like the only heaven the likes of us will ever know.” 

“I believe it,” Johnny sighs. “Give us a taste.” 

Simon extends his fingers and Johnny takes them onto his tongue, licking and sucking the digits clean. You’re close enough to Simon to feel his inhale, to feel the way his cock jumps where it’s pressed against your lower back. He plays at being unaffected, but Simon isn’t immune to the powers of finger-sucking. He isn’t immune to Johnny. 

Then he says: “Put that mouth to work, Johnny.” 

Johnny drops to his belly between your thighs, breath fanning across your folds. Simon has to pin your legs apart, humming when your nails dig into the skin of his forearms. They are teaming up on you, against you, and you feel so small pinned between them. 

“Dreamed of this,” Johnny sighs into your pussy. He nuzzles against you, nose brushing your slit before licking a thick stripe up your folds. He laps at the honey leaking from your entrance, broad strokes of his tongue as Simon’s fingers keep you spread open for his hungry mouth. 

Sometimes Johnny’s tongue laps over Simon’s fingers, and when it does, you feel his cock twitch against your back. It only serves to remind you how empty you feel. Your hands grip Johnny’s hair, guiding his soft mouth to your clit where he sucks and laps contentedly, and you beg for his fingers. 

He moans against you, voice vibrating through your pussy. His hips have started a slow grind against the bedspread, desperate for friction as his blue eyes find Simon’s dark ones, silently asking for permission. 

Simon nods. Johnny slips his middle-most two fingers into you, hooking them softly, searching for that spongy, textured place just inside you. It’s everything you needed, the pleasure in your belly rising to a near painful crest. Your hand scrambles to find one of Simon’s, lacing your fingers together as you burst against Johnny’s tongue, squeezing his fingers, barely remembering to keep from calling his name. 

Johnny lays his head against your inner thigh, panting. His eyes are foggy, pussy-drunk as he struggles to focus on you both, his fingers still tucked softly inside you. 

“Break,” Simon whispers, kissing your neck. He shifts out from behind you, the only one of you still fully dressed. Going to the tripod in the corner, he pauses the camera and then leaves the room.

“Great abrupt bastard, isn’t he?” Johnny asks, slipping his fingers out from inside you. He goes to lick them clean, but you stop him, bringing his hand to your own mouth and cleaning your slick from his fingers, tongue searching for your taste all the way to the webbing between his knuckles. His laugh is breathy. “You like that? Like the taste of pussy?” 

You nod, slipping your mask off briefly. 

“Need a pretty girl to play with then, not the likes of me.” 

Your hand latches around his wrist as he goes to pull away, lips turning down into a frown. “That’s not what we want. We don’t play with people. People aren’t toys to us. And we’ve never had sex with anyone else like this. You should know that from the videos.” 

“Aye,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to offend yeh, lass. I was only teasing.”

“Johnny…” 

“Yes?”

“Why’d you go away?” you ask. You know it might ruin the moment, but the curiosity is too much, an old wound with the scab picked clean off until it aches all over again. “Things seemed so good when Simon and I first got together. You were coming around all the time. Then you just…left.” 

Johnny can’t meet your eyes as he thinks back, as he remembers those days in the year after Simon first met you. When he speaks, his voice is steady. “I told yeh earlier. Couldn’t stop thinking about the two of you. Didn’t feel right to feel that way ‘bout my best mate and his best girl. And when he told me that he was gonna propose to yeh—I had two choices. Stay and watch, or run away. Maybe Simon’s right. Maybe I am a coward.”

“He told me that the two of you almost kissed once. Back during your SAS days.” 

A ghost of a smile appears on Johnny’s mouth. “Outside the Barranquilla, Columbia safehouse. I remember. I thought he would break my teeth if I tried, but Jesus, how I wanted to.”

“I think your odds were 50/50,” you say, scooting back until you are seated in Simon’s old spot, reclining against the headboard. “It started back then for you, didn’t it?” 

“Aye. I was a goner.” 

“You love him.” 

Johnny gives you a secretive smile. He presses his finger to his lips. Shh.

Simon enters the room with three water bottles and pauses, eyes flickering between you both. “The fuck were you two talking about?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “Is that water? I’m so thirsty, thank you baby.” 

“Her subtlety could use some work, LT,” Johnny says, watching as Simon goes and turns the camera back on. You hastily put your mask back in place. 

“Not her forte,” Simon admits dryly. He cracks open one of the bottles of water after tossing the last one to Johnny and drinks half of it in just a few gulps, despite having done very little so far in the scheme of things. You figured that was about to change, watching him shrug out of his shirt. 

Simon didn’t undress the way Johnny did. There wasn’t any fanfare or confidence; it was simple and efficient. You knew that Simon’s relationship with his body was a complex one. It had served him well, and he did his best to keep it healthy, but contemplating the aesthetics of it was too offensive to his palate. The scars were intense: thick punctures along his sides, the depressed, pale pucker of bullet wounds, the hard clean lines of a knife here and there. You had never minded, and judging by the way Johnny’s throat clicks when he swallows, Johnny didn’t mind either. 

“I want to fuck you,” he says. 

“Yes,” you agree. Fingers had been excellent, but nothing could compare to Simon’s cock. 

He shakes his head. “Not you. Him.” 

You turn your gaze on Johnny whose eyes are avidly watching Simon unfasten his jeans. He pushes them down over his thick thighs and reveals he’s not wearing any underwear beneath, his cock half-hard and rosy. He wraps his fist around it, jerking himself to full stiffness with a perfunctory touch, not at all interested in the show he is putting on for you both. 

“Can you take him, Johnny?” you tease. 

“I’ll die trying, thanks very much.” 

“I hope not,” is all Simon says, going to the bench at the end of the bed and retrieving the lube. He asks: “Condom?”

“Not necessary,” Johnny says, breaths coming faster now. You put your hand on his ankle, remembering the way he had touched you there on Christmas, stroking the bone softly. He glances to you and grins, and you see that what you mistook for nerves is actually excitement. He puts his hand over your own, squeezing. “Are you going to feel left out, lass?” 

“Terribly.” 

“If you last the whole time,” says Simon, holding the lube up to the light to see how empty it is. “I’ll let you fuck her when I’m finished with you.” 

“Jesus,” Johnny laughs weakly. “Can’t argue with that. Throw me that and I’ll get myself ready.” 

“I can do it,” says Simon, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Johnny shifts into a better position, feet flat on the bed, knees toward the ceiling. For a long time, Simon just looks at him: his silly hair, the odd scar here and there, his half hard cock. Deftly, he opens the cap on the lube and slicks two fingers while you come to kneel on the other side of Johnny, eager for a show. 

“Camera, love,” Simon reminds you, fingers searching between Johnny’s legs. Judging by the way Johnny’s jaw goes tight, he’s found what he’s looking for. You shift, glancing over your shoulder to make sure you are out of the camera’s point of view. Reaching down, you trail your fingertips gently over Johnny’s cock. Simon says: “Been a while?” 

“You could say that,” Johnny says, mouth falling open in a silent moan as Simon works him open. You’ve been on the receiving end of Simon’s ministrations; you know his patience can be near painful. Johnny learns it the hard way when Simon pauses twice to lube his fingers, until even the soft thrusts he gives into Johnny’s ass fill the room with the sound of sex. 

You play with his cock absently, enjoying being the tormentor instead of the tormented for once. Johnny’s silent breaths turn to heavy pants and then needy groans, foreskin pulling back to reveal the sensitive head as he grows in your palm thanks to Simon’s fingers playing inside him. His heels slip against the bedspread as he searches for the angles that suit him best, and he chokes when he finds them.

“Please, I’m ready,” Johnny says, fingers wrapping around Simon’s wrist. Simon lets him pull his fingers free and reaches for the lube again, this time to slick his cock. 

“Any preference for how I take you?” he asks mildly, like one might ask, How do you take your tea? One sugar please and thank you. 

“None, so long as your cock’s inside me,” Johnny grits out. 

“This’ll do,” says Simon, bullying his way between Johnny’s spread thighs. It takes a few pillows beneath his hips before he’s at the right height for Simon’s cock to notch against his entrance, and then you watch with rapt attention as Johnny’s body seems to blossom to welcome in Simon’s cock, a surplus of lubricant easing the way. 

Johnny flinches. 

“Easy,” says Simon, stilling. “Relax.” 

You curl up at Johnny’s side, slipping beneath one of his arms and cuddling against him. Your nervous fingers find one of his nipples and toy with it softly, kissing at his shoulder while you murmur words of encouragement to him. 

Johnny laughs weakly. “Don’t need all that, lass, but thank yeh.” 

“Wish I had someone cheering me on the first time I took Simon’s cock,” you admit. 

Simon frowns. “I was cheering you on.” 

“Less talking please, more fucking,” Johnny says, lips upturned. His body relaxes and Simon sinks the rest of the way inside him, all the way to the fucking hilt, deeper than you can ever take him in your cunt. It thrills you and makes you envious all at once. You pinch Johnny’s nipple, forcing a quiet gasp out of his throat. 

Simon looks good—strong. Unaffected. But you know him better. His brow is lower than ever, eyes closed as he centers himself. His breaths come so evenly that you know he must be counting them—four seconds in, four seconds out. His fingertips have sunk into the meat of Johnny’s thighs, gripping him tightly, as if to keep him from squirming away, or to keep him from squirming at all. 

“You solid?” Simon asks him. 

“Affirm,” Johnny breathes. “Go slow.” 

Famous last words—Simon withdraws with painstaking care, until just his head lingers inside Johnny’s body. He sinks back in at the most leisurely pace you’ve ever seen, thrusts smooth and deep as his thighs brush against Johnny’s ass. It takes no time at all for Johnny to regret those words, one of his hands laced with yours and the other twisting in the bedsheets as he begs Simon to move faster. 

And Simon can only take so much teasing himself, really. He’s human too. 

His hips snap into the open cradle of Johnny’s thighs. Johnny cries out, cock jerking where it lays hard and leaking against his belly. You lean up onto one elbow so that you can watch his pretty face contort: brow furrowing, mouth falling open. 

“Not going to cum, right?” you ask him slyly. 

He shakes his head. 

You glance down at his cock doubtfully. Simon, overhearing your words, takes that as a personal challenge, drilling into Johnny with a single-mindedness that is admirable to see and terrible to be on the receiving end of all in one. 

Suddenly tears overflow from Johnny’s eyes, dripping down toward his temples. You sit up in alarm as he lifts his hands but he just palms at his eyes, laughing. Simon slows, stops. He reaches down to pry Johnny’s hands away and then kisses him, something soft and sweet. Johnny’s hands shake as he reaches up to thread his fingers through Simon��s hair, tugging him closer.

Your heart feels liable to burst. You remember Johnny’s finger pressed to his lips, that universal sign. Shh. 

“He’s alright,” Simon says, not unkindly. “Aren’t you?”

Johnny croaks an affirmative.

After that, it is less fucking and more making love; there’s nothing else to call in. Simon pins Johnny’s wrists to the bed just to feel like he’s still in control, but his thrusts are syrupy slow, not fully withdrawing, seeking to remain as close to Johnny as he can for as long as possible. You stroke one of Johnny’s palms and Simon lets it free so that you can hold it, your fingers lacing together in a way that is foreign yes, but comfortable. 

“You’ve been a good boy for me, Johnny,” Simon says. 

“Don’t say that,” Johnny groans, turning his head away, flushed pink. 

“It’s true. Know how to be an even better boy?” 

Johnny is intrigued. Being a good boy is suddenly beneath him; now he wants to be the best boy. Looking at Simon through his lashes, he asks: “How’s that?” 

“Cum on my cock.” 

“Don’t do it Johnny,” you whine. “It’s a trap.” 

Simon laughs. He kneels back onto his haunches, dragging Johnny’s body along with him, and reaches for the other man’s cock, working it over in his fist. Johnny nearly howls, kept on the edge so long that to see the bottom of the cliffside is to know the promise of pain. He doesn’t know whether to grind his hips deeper against Simon’s cock or to chase the heat of his hand. 

“Close,” he groans. 

“Go on. Pretty abs like this—make a mess on ‘em.” 

Johnny does, pearlescent seed dripping from between Simon’s fingers as he milks Johnny for every last drop. Only then does he begin thrusting again, fast and hard, searching for his own end. Not a handful of thrusts later and he goes sloppy, breath punched from his lungs as he spills inside Johnny. 

“You promised me a cock to ride,” you say. 

“Couldn’t be helped, lass,” Johnny says with a dopey, lovesick smile. You hum. 

“We’ll just have to get you hard again, won’t we?” you ask, wrapping your fingers around his softening cock. 

-

That night, the bed is full. Johnny and you are entwined, legs and arms wrapped around each other creating an endless feedback of heat that Simon was careful not to be swept away in, too focused on his mission to allow for any mistakes. He makes no sound as he slips out of bed. He stops by the tripod in the corner and takes his phone out into the living room, turning the sound down so low that he has to hold the speaker close to his ear to hear it, lest he wake Johnny. 

He listens to you and Johnny talk while he was gone, when you believed the camera to be off. He plays it again, watching just the video. By the time he’s returned in the video, Simon’s chest feels full of pressure, like something is inside him trying to crawl its way out. Love. What does Simon Riley know about love? 

Well, he knows one thing. 

Except maybe now he knows two.

He deletes the video and goes back to bed. 

[seiwas]

new year superstitions (or some shit) | bakugo katsuki

wc: 1.4k

summary: bakugo's never believed in timing things for luck (or: affection is hard, but bakugo thinks it's about damn time he tries harder)

contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, aged up!pro-hero bakugo (mid-twenties), reader is described as pretty, vaguely alludes to reader's quirk, established relationship, fluff.

you slip into bakugo's space just a few minutes shy of touching the new year.

everywhere around you is loud, lively in the way new year's eve parties go; a group of people down the street stand outside of a bar, waving their streamers and blowing on small trumpets to welcome the next hour. from a distance, fireworks are shooting up to the sky, right above some luxury hotel having its annual countdown.

it's neither bakugo's thing nor yours to be up this late, partaking in celebrations like this, but he supposes some things are worth experiencing at least once—

the scent of your perfume hits him before he sees you, the space around him tightening in that familiar way the air around you shifts when you hold your breath. you smile, a small, gentle lift of your lips that falls into pace with your blink. pretty.

warmth pools in his stomach, building slowly to crawl its way up his neck and over his ears, overflowing to dust his cheeks.

"thought you looked a little lonely over here," you mumble, stifling your giggle as you watch him turn pink.

he furrows his brows, a soft "tsk," escaping his lips out of habit as his head turns to you. you always tease him like this; he should be getting used to it by now.

a gust of wind picks up from your spot on the balcony, pushing the glass door shut. the noise from inside muffles to dull chatter, the beat of tonight's music recognizable only by the subtle vibrations on the metal railing resting against his back.

the winter breeze seems to have tapped you, too, as you tuck your chin deeper into the red scarf around your neck.

"y'should've stayed inside," he nods to you then to the balcony door, crossing his arms, "s'cold here."

you frown, inching closer, just enough that you could loop your arm with his if you wanted, "sometimes, i can't tell if you're bad at taking hints or just really good at ignoring them."

he eyes you from the side, red vermillion the shade of your scarf—the one he gifted you just a few days ago for christmas. you pout, loosening the fabric around your neck so he can hear you clearly.

"you know," you take in a shaky breath, "this is the f-first time we're at s-something like this as y-y'know…” you pause, glancing at him to gauge his reaction, “t-together."

his nose turns a shade of pink darker; it's true, and he can hear you clearly—every tremor, every shiver. he sees you pretty clearly too, the softest hint of red on your lips. this relationship with you is new, just a little over a couple of months, and it makes him think—

"k-katsuki, are you e-even—"

it's reflex when he does it―his hand shooting out to grip your elbow, pulling you closer into his parka. right where you were standing lands a small clump of snow, fallen from the balcony of the unit above.

you look up almost immediately, a little flustered.

"s-sorry―"

bakugo feels warm despite the cold, heat blazing across his entire face as little puffs of air tickle his neck when you speak. like he said, this relationship with you is new, and though he's held you a few times already, affection, in any capacity is still something he's getting used to.

and you're aware of that too; of course you are. but when you push yourself away to create some space―

"told you s'fuckin cold."

―he keeps his other hand on your back, holding you into place.

bakugo is intense in most aspects; he meets things headfirst with no hesitation, but being this close to you makes him feel weird, a kind of unusual he thinks he should approach with caution―as if to keep himself from ruining the moment.

so his eyes wander. down the street, on the view behind you; they focus on the wisps of your hair ruffled from the earlier breeze, the tips of your eyelashes, blinking. then slowly and carefully, they land on you.

and you―

you beam, eyes widening momentarily before flashing him the brightest smile. it stills him so much that he doesn't notice your hands loosening the scarf around your neck even more, unwinding the fabric until the lengthened ends sit on your palms.

it's when you say "okay," gently and so... so... sweetly, that he feels the softness of wool hit the tips of his ears and down his neck. an ache spreads throughout his chest as he locks eyes with yours, tongue pushing against the roof of his mouth for another tsk―but you beat him to it, your finger coming up to press against his lips.

"s'cold," you giggle, a hint of teasing.

he narrows his gaze, about to retort when you both hear muffled shouts from inside the party, "ten... nine... eight..."

the group of friends down the street seem to be in on it too, echoes in unison, shouting, "seven... six... five... four..."

and from afar, right where the hotel is situated, are the numbers "three... two... one..." lit up on the sky.

you tug on bakugo's parka to draw his attention; the expression on your face is something he can't quite decipher―winter on your cheeks and your lower lip pulled between your teeth. the air around him tightens again, evidenced by the way you suck in a breath.

then, it happens all too fast―the way you tiptoe up just that little bit; your fingertips stamping chills down the edges of his scarred cheek. you kiss bakugo right as the new year strikes and the moment happens too quickly for him to notice.

"happy new year, katsuki," you whisper, close enough that it tickles his chin. it must have been a small peck, it must have been. he can only assume as he blinks it back to memory.

you've kissed before―three times to be exact, four counting this one. and he's not opposed to it (what kind of idiot would be?); in full truth, he fucking loves it.

but, affection is hard, and fuck, it's always been you initiating it―

"sorry, too much?" you mumble sheepishly, pressing your lips together, "just figured since it's the new year and all..."

―which is even more fucked by the fact that you feel the need to apologize for it.

he stares at you, bewildered out of his fucking mind that he still hasn't grown the damn balls to kiss you himself.

so, to hell with new year superstitions, he thinks; bakugo's never believed in playing to luck and chance in the first place. he'll kiss you right now because he wants to―

because it's what he's been wanting to do since the start of tonight, since yesterday, since a week ago; since you kissed him the very first time and all he could do was stand there, trying to act like the very feel of his lips pressed against yours didn't make his mind howitzer impact right in that moment.

―it just so happens that it's the new year, and it's about damn time he grows the balls to initiate it for once.

his hand reaches for your cheek before you can take a step back, fingers slotting themselves by your ear and resting against the edge of your jaw. your eyebrows shoot up, the look in your eyes something between confused and surprised. his thumb slides itself across your cheek before swiping down to touch the edge of your lips, feeling.

there's a dull warmth beneath the pads of his fingertips, heating up when he leans in. the air tightens; breath on hold as his nose bumps into your skin, and it's faint, the slightest touch of your lips against his. your eyes fall shut before his do, and he shivers, a slight tremble as he deepens the kiss.

he starts out slowly, uncertain, moving his lips tentatively. it's a push and pull―soft, quick pecks sandwiched between longer, drawn out touching. it almost feels like this moment's been suspended amidst all the noise, lips locked and gliding, lingering; he swears he can feel you grinning.

your fingers grip the fabric of his parka and tug, and he sees it as a signal to be rougher, taking your bottom lip between his and slightly biting. you squeak the tiniest bit, but it's enough to make him pull away completely, eyes wide as his thumb presses against your chin.

"fuck," he whispers, catching his breath as he tugs just enough that he can see the inside of your lower lip, "did i hurt you?"

he's squinting, brows furrowed while looking for any sign of blood when you shake your head, stopping him. his gaze shifts to take you in―your glossy lips, slick with spit; your eyes, completely blown but somehow still twinkling, and when you giggle, he almost finds it cruel you have to look so fucking pretty.

"it's just your canines," you smile, "i like them."

fuck, he really should've done this sooner.

a/n: this ended up way longer than i planned woops! haven't written bakugo in a while but i miss the guy!! and i wanted to write him so terribly flustered and bad at affection but being so frustrated because he wants to try!!! and he should be better than this!! anyway! i had this idea around christmas time but couldn't write it in time for the new year because i got sick. so it's a little late, but i hope you enjoy!

i'm not sure if you remember my dear willow @willossom, but you sent me a request a good while back for one of my events with the prompt: saying "i love you" in all the ways you aren't used to for bakugo, and this reminded me loads of it!! 🥺 though this isn't the written request for that one yet (i have something else planned for it), i just wanted to let you know that i thought of you while writing this!!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 4: Breeding

Day 4 is breeding out bunny hybrid Nayeon. (She has bunny ears and that's about it...don't ask it was in the request)

Length 2K

Nayeon X Mreader

Nayeon rushed out of work, her ears hidden under a beanie, giving her the appearance of any other woman. You spot her all the same, though. “Nayeon! Over here!” You yell from across the road. The young woman stops in her tracks after hearing your voice and looks around. She turns her head quickly, trying to figure out where your voice came from. You yell at her again, and this time, she sees you. You see a smile creep across her face, and she bounces in place before running over to you. 

“What are you doing here?!” She yells, nearly throwing herself through the open window. 

“It’s cold. I came to pick you up.” You lean in and continue in a hushed tone, “And I wanted to know if everything went alright. You know it’s about time you go into heat.”

Nayeon’s cheeks grow a deeper shade of red, and she playfully pushes you. “I’m fine right now. I told you if anything happened, I would tell you.” 

“Alright, but get in. It’s cold out here, and I don’t want to have the window open any more.” Nayeon hops over to the passenger side and gets in, taking off her beanie to reveal her bunny ears. 

“Did they get cold?” You ask, gently pinching them. Nayeon shudders as you touch her rabbit ears. She covers them quickly, pushing your hand away. 

“They’re fine!” She says, scooting away from you. 

“Alright, alright,” you laugh. You start the car and drive home, taking the scenic route so Nayeon can see the snow falling. You glance at her every so often. “It’s pretty isn’t it.”

Nayeon nods quickly, her smile growing as she presses her face against the window. “So pretty,” You slow down, letting her take in the sight, knowing that you’d get home soon. “Why does it have to be so cold? It’d be a lot better if it were like this but warm.”

“It’s not so bad, we can snuggle at night,”

Nayeon turns around and pouts, “You know what I mean,”

“I know, I know.” You turn onto your street, “We’re nearly here. You might want to put the beanie back on.” Nayeon puts it on slowly, adjusting it around her sensitive ears. As you park the car, Nayeon opens the door and shoots toward the door, turning the knob but getting stuck because it is locked. You watch her pull on it frantically. It’s mildly entertaining, but you know you have to help her. “It’s locked! Use your key!” You yell, stating the obvious. Nayeon pauses and looks at the ground out of embarrassment before picking through her pockets for the house key. She puts it in slowly and unlocks the door before turning the knob and getting the door to open finally. She looks back at you, mildly embarrassed, before stepping inside and shutting the door. You sigh and shake your head; Nayeon could be a real goofball. You turn off the car and head inside your home, finding Nayeon already in her pajamas, sitting in front of a small space heater, her hands and feet right in front of it. “You’re going to burn yourself, you know.”

“I’m cold,” she replies, keeping her eyes on the red coils of the heater. You pass by Nayeon, patting her head as you change clothes. When you step back into the living room, you find Nayeon in the same position. “I think I can handle my heat this time,” she says quietly.

“Don’t even try it.” You tell her sternly. “The last time you tried it, you nearly cheated on me. I’m being serious here. I know it’s in your nature, but that’s no excuse.” Nayeon presses her lips together into a pout and looks up at you. “Don’t try to give me those puppy eyes either. It’s not going to work on me.”

“You have to be serious about this, Nayeon; you can get pregnant pretty easily in that state. It’s a miracle you haven’t after all the times we’ve fucked.”

“I know, but I’m pretty sure I can beat my urges this time.” You sigh and turn around, your hands on your hips. “I can!” Nayeon yells, feeling like a child trying to prove themselves right. 

“You’re due any day now. So we’ll see what happens.” You tell her before cooking dinner—one of Nayeon’s favorites, chicken rice. While you cooked, Nayeon could feel her body getting warmer; the temptation to touch herself began to worm its way into her mind. She shook her head and tried to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. She took deep breaths and focused on the heater's red-hot coils to clear her mind. She was too focused to notice you come by. Her body felt a jolt of electricity go through it as you touched her hand. Her head shot up; she gulped and got up with your assistance while her body began to crave more. She played with her food more than she ate; Nayeon could feel herself getting wetter the longer she sat across from you. Your scent filled her nose; her mind became filled with memories of the times you had sex. 

Nayeon ate a couple more bites of the food, finishing about half before she stood up. “I think I’m going to go to bed; I’m feeling a little tired.” She hurried without another word to the bedroom. The young woman looked through drawers until she found the melatonin. She took a few tablets and tried to get herself to go to sleep. By the time you got to bed, she was sound asleep, drooling on her pillow. You nudge her to her side of the bed and sleep beside her.

Nayeon tossed and turned in her sleep, eventually waking up from her slumber in a sweat. She bit her lip and rubbed her thighs together, her loins burned. Slipping her hand underneath her pajama shorts, she was wet, her panties already soaked. The slightest touch sent shocks through her system. She rolled onto her side and saw you. Her breathing quickened as she smelled your scent. Nayeon throws the covers off both your bodies and sees your bulge. She licked her lips and felt her instincts kick in. It was like she was hypnotized. Nayeon quietly crawled between your legs and pulled down your boxers, watching your cock spring free from them before she even got them off. The musk from it was enough to make her dizzy. 

Nayeon pressed her face against your cock, taking in deep breaths before dragging her tongue along it. She whined, needing it. Nayeon knew she should wake you up. You had always told her to wake you up when she was in heat, but her voice wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t even think of words to say; all she wanted, all she knew was your cock. Nayeon wrapped her lips around your cock and pushed it into the back of her throat. Her eyes rolled back as she got her first taste of you. It was like a drug to her; once she had a taste, she wanted more. Her tongue swirled around the tip of your cock as she prepared you for a long day. She bobbed her head slowly, moving up and down your shaft with her thick lips around your cock. Nayeon’s moans were muffled, but you started to wake up, your body stirring. Nayeon tried to hold you down to continue her blowjob. Her body was weak, though; Nayeon had gotten her first taste of your precum and knew you were ready. She pulled back slowly and stroked your cock. She straddled you and rubbed your cock between her folds; it was like jolts of electricity going through her body every time your cock rubbed up against her entrance. Her ears would go from drooping to standing on end each time. Nayeon couldn’t wait any longer and pressed you against her entrance, dropping herself onto your cock, every inch making its way inside her. She came instantly

She placed her hands on your chest for support as her walls tightened around you. Nayeon’s body shook from the intensity. She barely had the strength to rock her hips; the feeling of your cock moving inside her pushed her to another orgasm despite the movement barely being anything. 

You open your eyes slowly, a figure on top of you moaning softly. “Nayeon?” You groan, rubbing your eyes. Nayeon paused, her body tensing as you figured out what was happening. You look over at the alarm clock on your bedside; it’s just past midnight. “Did it start already?” You ask only to get no response. Nayeon just grinds against you slowly, desperate for more. You sigh and roll Nayeon onto her back, pinning her to the bed, as you grab both her arms. “You know what time it is, and I told you to tell me when this happened.” You tell her. 

Nayeon whimpers and rocks her hips, “I-I need it.” She whimpers. You sigh and pull out of Nayeon, dragging your cock out slowly before driving yourself deep into her cunt, knocking against her cervix. Nayeon’s body tenses as she cums again. You moan as you feel her cunt tighten around your cock. You know Nayeon will be active for a while, and you need to get her out of her heat. You begin thrusting slowly; Nayeon coos as she feels your cock slide in and out of her. 

While she loves the feeling, she knows what she really needs. She wraps her legs around you, keeping you from pulling out of her. You nip at Nayeon’s neck, listening to her whimpers as you quicken your thrusts and make her beg for more. “I need it. I want a baby,” Nayeon whimpers, her whines becoming more common as your cock throbs inside the young woman. You thrust quickly, driving your cock deeper into her cunt. Nayeon rocks her hips, trying to get you to cum quickly, desperate for you to breed her. On the edge of your climax, you bury yourself inside Nayeon and drop your first load inside her, painting her walls white as your semen makes its way to her womb. 

Nayeon’s body relaxes for a moment as she feels your cum pour into her, but you know she’ll be back to her needy attitude soon. You take advantage of the situation and pull Nayeon's legs up, folding her in half before ramming your cock back into Nayeon. She gasps, your hard cock going deeper than before. You slam yourself into Nayeon’s cunt, making your cum spill out of her cunt and coating her body in it. The smell makes her dizzy, and she rests her head back, gripping the sheets of your bed as you pound away at her thing body.

Nayeon’s eyes roll into the back of her head; her tongue wags in the air as you drive her crazy. Her entire body tingles, and the only thing she can think about is your cock as it slides in and out of her body. “More,” Nayeon whines, “I want more,” You continue thrusting into Nayeon, burying her body into the bed as you near another climax. You groan, feeling Nayeon’s walls tightening around your cock. You bury yourself inside Nayeon again and fill her womb with your cum, her walls milking you the entire time. Nayeon lips curl into a smile as she feels more of your cum being pumped into her. 

The night was long from over, though. You spend the next few hours fucking Nayeon over and over again, cumming inside her each time, staining the bed and her body with the stuff. By the end, you’re both exhausted; Nayeon lies on her back cum pooling around her as her legs twitch. 

There was little doubt in your mind that Nayeon would get pregnant this time, and you were right. A few months later, the young woman’s belly had grown to the size of a watermelon, her breasts had doubled in size, and she could barely walk, resorting to shuffling around the house.

[himasgod]

How would they spend New Year's Eve with you?

Characters: Tartaglia, Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Albedo, Rosaria, Razor Barbara, Eula, Zhongli, Xiao, Yanfei, Keqing, Chongyun, Beidou, Ayato, Thoma, Kazuha, Raiden Ei, Itto, Shinobu, Alhaitham, Cyno, Tighnari, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Furina, Lyney.

(Happy New Year everyone! I hope all your resolutions come true and that you have a great New Year with your loved ones! Enjoy this, should I do a part 2 with the characters I have left?)

Tartaglia

Childe would invite you to spend New Year's with his family at Snezhnaya. He would want you to experience the warmth of his home, despite the cold outside.

His siblings would be excited to meet you and would share laughs as Childe tries to cook something special (and probably needs help).

At midnight, he would take you outside to watch the snow fall under the lights of the lanterns, holding you close as he whispers, "Making you happy is my greatest achievement this year and all those to come."

Diluc

Diluc would prefer an intimate celebration at Dawn Winery. He would prepare an elegant dinner with fresh ingredients from the region, serving specially selected wine from his cellar.

At midnight, he would take you out onto the balcony to watch the fireworks that the Knights of Favonius organize in the city.

Though he doesn't say it openly, he would make a toast with you, his words laden with sincerity and affection. "To you, and to all the good things that await us this year."

Kaeya

Kaeya would insist on taking you to a party at the tavern. He would want you to enjoy the lively atmosphere and laughter.

Just before midnight, he would pull you away from the hustle and bustle to walk together under the moonlight. "I want to start the year with you by my side," he would tell you with his charming smile.

He would probably steal a kiss from you just as the clock strikes twelve.

Venti

Venti would host an outdoor celebration, complete with music and poetry. He would bring his lyre to play songs as the wind carries his melody throughout Mondstadt.

He would dedicate an improvised ballad to you, telling of the special moments you've shared.

At midnight, he would take your hand and dance under the starry sky.

Albedo

Albedo would prefer a quiet celebration at Dragonspine, showing you the wonders of the winter landscape. He would prepare a warm spot in his lab spot to share a simple yet special dinner.

As a gift, he would give you a painting he made especially for you, capturing a meaningful moment you two shared during the year.

At midnight, as the aurora lights up the sky, he would tell you, “The time we shared is a masterpiece I don’t want to stop painting.”

Rosaria

Rosaria wouldn't be the type to celebrate loudly, but she'd agree to spend New Year's with you if it meant some quiet time.

She'd probably take you to church to light candles and reflect on the year that's passed. Afterward, she'd invite you to walk the silent streets under the snow.

At midnight, as the world seems to freeze in stillness, she'd look at you softly. "I'm not good with words, but you make every day worthwhile."

Razor

Razor would prefer something simple but meaningful. He would take you into the woods of Wolvendom, where he would light a small fire to keep you both warm.

He would share roast meat with you and talk about how he sees the new year as just another cycle in nature.

At midnight, with a shy smile, he would say, "Thank you for being my lupical. I will always take care of you."

Barbara

Barbara would host a quiet evening at the cathedral, singing a special song for you as candles lit the place.

Afterwards, you would walk together through Mondstadt decorated for the occasion, enjoying sweets and watching the fireworks from a nearby hill.

At midnight, with rosy cheeks, she would take your hand. "I promise that this year I will sing more songs that make you happy."

Eula

Eula would take you out to a fancy dinner, making sure everything is perfect for you. Even though she might not admit it openly, New Year's is a chance to show you how much she values ​​you.

Afterwards, she would take you ice skating under the starlight, gently guiding you even though her face shows a slight shyness.

At midnight, she would look directly at you and say firmly, "This year, I want to give you back all the happiness you've given me."

Zhongli

Zhongli would plan a traditional celebration in a quiet place, such as the lantern-lit harbor. He would make a special tea and tell you stories about the ancient New Year traditions in Liyue.

He would hold a small ceremony, writing wishes on red paper and burning them so that the smoke would carry his words to the heavens.

At the stroke of midnight, he would take your hand and look deeply into your eyes. “Thank you for being my companion on this long road.”

Xiao

Xiao wouldn't be quite sure how to celebrate, but he would agree to spend the New Year with you because he values ​​your company more than he admits.

He would take you to a high place, like the Wangshu Inn, so you could enjoy the fireworks away from the noise.

Even though he might not be the most expressive, his actions would speak for him. "I will protect you this year, as I have done so far," he would say with a slight smile.

Keqing

Keqing would be busy organizing events in Liyue, but she would find time to spend the night with you.

She would take you around the lantern-lit streets and buy little lucky charms to share with you.

At midnight, she would allow herself to relax and confess to you how much she values ​​your support. “This year will be better because you are by my side.”

Chongyun

Chongyun would invite you to spend a New Year filled with quiet activities to avoid getting emotionally overheated. Maybe he'd take you to a serene place near Liyue where you could enjoy the winter scenery.

He'd make you a refreshing dessert to share, probably something he learned especially for you.

At midnight, though shy, he'd take your hand and look at you with sincerity. "I hope this year we'll continue to share moments like this… with you everything feels more balanced."

Yanfei

Yanfei, ever practical, would make sure you had everything ready to start the new year off right, even checking your contracts or reminding you to burn incense for good fortune.

You would spend the night wandering around Liyue Harbor, enjoying the fireworks and eating street snacks.

At midnight, she would give you a small amulet she made herself and smile at you. “It’s so that justice and happiness will always accompany you this year.”

Beidou

Beidou would host a party aboard the ship, inviting her crew and close friends. The night would be filled with laughter, stories, and songs as they sailed under the stars.

SHe would challenge you to a friendly drinking competition, but she would also make sure you were comfortable and happy.

At midnight, as fireworks lit up the sky, she would take you to the bow of the ship, wrapping you in her cloak. "With each passing year, I have more reasons to love you!"

Kamisato Ayato

Ayato would host a fancy dinner party at the Kamisato Mansion, making sure everything was perfect. He would invite Ayaka over for some family time before she retired so Ayato could be alone with you.

At midnight, he would take you out to the garden to enjoy a private fireworks display organized by the Yashiro Commission.

He would gently hold your hand and whisper, “I hope this year brings us both peace and happiness.”

Thoma

Thoma would surprise you with a warm and cozy celebration. He would cook your favorite dishes and decorate your house with Christmas decorations (even though it's not Christmas anymore) and handmade garlands.

He would insist on writing wishes for the coming year together, placing them on a decorated tree.

When midnight comes, he would hug you tenderly and thank you for making his life brighter.

Kaedehara Kazuha

Kazuha would prefer a quiet, poetic celebration. He would take you to a cliff where you can watch the sea lit up by fireworks.

He would bring a haiku he wrote especially for you, giving it to you as a gift.

As the sea breeze caresses your face, he would hold you close and whisper, "The wind will guide us to new horizons together."

Raiden Ei

Ei is not used to festivities, but she would strive to understand the importance of the New Year to you. She would take you to the plane of Euthymia for a quiet, private moment.

She would prepare a tea ceremony, practicing diligently so that everything would be perfect. As you share the tea, she would talk about what it means to her to have you in her life.

At midnight, she would take your hand and promise to protect the time you share, saying, "You are a constant light in my eternity."

Arataki Itto

Itto would host a boisterous celebration with his gang members, insisting that New Year's must be an unforgettable party.

He'd set up ridiculous games and challenges for everyone, making sure you'd have fun (though he'd probably take winning too seriously).

At midnight, he'd pull everyone aside and take you to a quiet corner. "Hey, you're the reason this year was the best of my life! Let's smash it together this year too!"

Kuki Shinobu

Shinobu would make sure Itto didn't go overboard, but she would also find time to celebrate with you in her own way.

She would probably take you to a nearby shrine to make wishes for the coming year, helping you write them down on little ema wooden tablets.

At the end of the night, as you two walked home, she would say something like, "Thank you for being my constant amidst all the chaos. I'm sure this year will be amazing because you'll be with me."

Alhaitham

Alhaitham would plan a relaxing evening at home, reading and sharing your favorite books. He would make an effort to cook something special, though he might ask for help if he's unsure of his culinary skills.

At midnight, he would make a simple but honest toast, saying something like, "A new year of learning and growing together."

Although he may be reserved, he would show you his affection with small gestures, like lacing his fingers with yours while you talk.

Cyno

Cyno would propose a New Year filled with games and pranks. Maybe he would even invent a TCG to celebrate the occasion.

Just before midnight, he would look at you with a mix of seriousness and affection, promising that he will always be there to protect you.

Although he is someone who is reserved with his emotions, his actions would show how much he values ​​you.

Tighnari

Tighnari would prefer a quiet celebration in nature, taking you to a special corner of the Avidya forest to gaze at the stars.

He would share with you curiosities about how plants react to the change of year, showing you night-blooming flowers that only open at this time.

As midnight came, he would wrap you in a warm blanket and say, "Though nature's cycles change, my affection for you remains constant."

Neuvillette

Neuvillette would prepare a serene evening in his home, where you can enjoy the tranquility of the water flowing nearby. He would serve you an exquisite tea accompanied by traditional sweets.

At midnight, he would take you to the balcony to watch the lights reflecting in Fontaine water.

He would dedicate to you some soft but meaningful words. "The flow of time seems more bearable when I am with you."

Wriothesley

Wriothesley would arrange something more relaxed but full of detail. Perhaps a walk through the less cold areas of Fontaine or a dinner prepared with simple but well-crafted ingredients

He would surprise you with a small gift, something meaningful that shows how well he knows you.

At midnight, he would hold you tightly, whispering in your ear: "You are the best of this and every year."

Lyney

Lyney would make the New Year an unforgettable spectacle, organizing a private magic show just for you. Each trick would be filled with little details that represent his affection.

He would surprise you with a gift hidden in one of his tricks, perhaps a necklace or a handwritten letter with his deepest thoughts.

When the clock strikes twelve, he would gently take your hands and say, "With you, every year seems like a magical act of fate."

Furina

Furina would turn New Year's into a dramatic, extravagant event. She would throw a themed party in her (and your) honor, making sure everything was perfect.

She would insist that you both dress in fancy outfits, saying that you both must be the center of attention.

At midnight, when fireworks light up Fontaine, she would take your face in her hands and say, "See? We are the brightest couple of this year and of all those to come."

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request, they're opened and would help me so much! <3

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

working late - spencer reid x gn!reader

spencer really doesn't want reader to work late tonight

continuation of 'that me espresso' thanks to @multipleheartbreakhotels!!!

genre: fluff wc: 523 warnings: clingy spencer?

Spence: When can I see you? I’m off tonight. No case.

He really did want to see you. He isn’t sure what it is about you or what you’ve done to him, but he knows he’ll never get enough.

You like him. A lot. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, sweet, he doesn’t talk to you the way other guys always do. You really do want to see him tonight. The only issue is that you have to work tonight.

You: sorry!!! i’m working late tonight

The response comes far quicker than you anticipate.

Spence: Could I visit?

Technically, yes. You aren’t super fond of the idea of him coming into your work but you do want to see him.

You: how about you pick me up after?

Spence: What time?

You smile to yourself and pick out your outfit in your head.

You: 9pm

Spence: See you then.

Work takes longer than usual and you think it’s his fault. While it’s never a thrill, you don’t regularly check the time as much as you have been today. Every customer interaction is bland, each worse than the last. Leave it to Spencer Reid to affect your productivity at work. You find yourself counting down the minutes until you get to see him.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was to be sent a picture of him. You’re certainly not upset about it. Okay, maybe the photo isn’t directly of him but you can see him in it. It’s of the counter in his bathroom. A few of your things sit on top of it. Some things you must’ve left from your night together. His silhouette is visible in the mirror, telling you that he’s wearing a pale blue shirt with a navy cardigan over it. He’s wearing a matching navy tie.

Spence: Want me to bring these?

You could use that stuff but you’d like more to have an excuse to go back over to his place.

You: no, i’ll grab them next time i’m over

Spencer was not expecting that. Of course, he wants you to come to his apartment again. He just wasn’t anticipating you wanting to.

Spence: On my way now.

For some reason, every red light felt like it took ten times longer than they generally do. He knew, statistically, at this time of night, that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t deny the feeling. When he got to your workplace, he couldn’t be happier. Especially now that you’re walking towards a park together, heads covered in snow. He looks over at you.

“What do you think about coffee? It’s late but we could have decaf or, if you’d rather, tea. We could also get something to eat if you’re hungry!” Spencer rambles, his mouth moving quicker than his brain at this point.

“Mmm, coffee,” you chime in joy.

He nods. His hair falls in front of his face as he watches his steps.The idea of coffee seemed simple enough until you actually sat together. His eyes lingered on every syllable your lips formed. It was even worse when you took a sip from the to-go cup. Clearly, he’s obsessed with you, blown-out pupils tracking every last movement made by your perfect anything.

[eiightysixbaby]

winter dreams

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

eddie really wants to give you a baby for christmas

cw: 18+ ONLY - SMUT. reader and eddie are actively trying to get pregnant, unprotected piv, creampie

The fire crackles in the fireplace beside you, orange embers licking at the logs below them. The carpet is plush beneath your bare back, skin pleasantly warm from the flames.

There’s a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, its pretty colored lights partnering with the fire to cast the prettiest glow across the space. A Bing Crosby holiday album plays from the record player, volume turned low, making him sound far away; dreamlike.

Your eyes wander momentarily to the window, and you can see the snow falling down in slow, fluffy flakes. It’s like you’re inside of a snow globe, and someone just shook it upside down. You smile warmly, letting this moment wrap you up in its joy.

Eddie rocks slowly into you, hands braced on the floor beside your head. Every move he makes is entirely intentional, filling you completely full of him with each thrust. Despite his loving pace, it still knocks the breath out of you, feeling him all over you; everywhere.

You let out a satisfied hum, to which he grunts softly in response. His wide, beautiful brown eyes look down at you, twinkling with the reflection of the lights. Long lashes flutter before his eyelids close, face leaning into yours to press a kiss to your mouth, open in a sigh of his name.

"Fuck, baby," he groans. "Feel like fucking heaven." His voice is deep and husky, and it seems to wrap around you, enveloping you in the affection that pours from him.

You don't really respond, aside from another moan. He's turning you to mush, slowing down your brain, rendering you incapable of forming a sentence. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blades, nails digging in to his soft skin.

"Are you feeling good, sweetheart?" he asks, watching the way your eyes roll back as he delivers another deep thrust.

Typically, that question would come out a little cocky; smug. He'd be pounding you senseless, knowing damn well he's making you feel so good and also that you're in no state to respond to him. But right now, there's nothing but pure adoration behind his ask. This is love-making in its purest form, slow and steady and passionate, hands caressing tenderly and lips moving languid across searing skin.

"Yes," you gasp. "So good, baby," your brain manages to string the words together, leaving you breathily.

A pleased noise erupts from deep in his throat, and his mouth dips down to kiss the side of your face, trailing purposefully down to your neck.

"God, I love you," he murmurs into the crook of your neck, strands of his unruly curls tickling your neck.

It drags another high-pitched sound from you, and that's all the response he needs.

"Gonna get you pregnant, holy shit," he pants, statement enunciated by the slick, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you.

And that was always the plan, but hearing him say it now, in the heat of the moment, has your walls clenching around him, your brain fuzzy with desire.

"That what you want, baby? Hm? Want me to give you a baby for Christmas?"

You whimper, back arching til your tits are pressed against his chest, eyes screwing shut.

“Need you to use your words, honey,” he coaxes, letting his mouth dip to your cleavage, pressing a kiss featherlight to the skin.

“Yes, Eddie,” you burn. “That’s what I want.”

It’s something you’d both been talking about for a while. A baby. You’d been less and less cautious during sex lately, rolling with the mindset of, ‘if it happens, it happens’. But this, tonight— this feels more intentional, more promising.

His tongue swirls around one of your nipples, hips unwavering in their steady rocking.

“Good, baby. ‘M gonna give it to you,” he rasps, bringing his mouth back up, bottom lip dragging hot up the column of your throat until he catches your own mouth.

His tongue slots between your lips, moving slow with yours, sending a shiver straight through you. The rough pad of his thumb carefully finds your clit, snagging on it, rubbing in soft circles. A moan catches in your throat, coming out strangled, head tipping back against the soft carpeting.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, feeling that familiar swell of tension in the pit of your stomach.

“C’mon, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, letting him play your body like an instrument, getting such pretty sounds out of you; working you up to your crescendo.

The weight of him on top of you is grounding, comforting as he sends you tipping over your edge. A few more swirls of his finger around your bud timed perfectly with his deep thrusts has you unraveling entirely. You moan unashamedly, hands desperately pulling him secure against your chest as your body shakes.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “I’m gonna cum, gonna cum inside you—”

And just like that, you can feel his cock twitching and his hips stilling, your insides coated with his release. He curses and groans, the noises dizzying, music to your ears. Two chests heave in unison, rising and falling, rising and falling as you both catch your breath. He doesn't pull out, in fact you think he might even push himself deeper, like he's really trying to make his seed stick.

He kisses you like it's his last moment on earth, like he's trying to breathe life into you and steal the life from you all at once. Bodies still entwined, still connected.

When he pulls away, everything feels still. The record player croons, dreams of white Christmases floating through the air. The look in Eddie's eyes says everything, no need for words.

If this were a dream, you'd never want to wake up. You're pretty certain it's real, though.

[lovegalor333]

Naughty List (nsfw)

part two of paigemas

paige bueckers x reader

a snow storm and power outage leaves you and paige no other option but to keep each other warm

⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆ ⋆꙳❆ ⋆✩°｡꙳❆°⋆

“Turn it up more!” Paige shouts from the living room as you battle with the furnace, desperately trying to warm up the house. “I have!” You call back as you twist the dial to MAX. A snowstorm was currently sweeping through your state and after running inside post snowball fight, you and Paige were met with a freezing cold house.

“It’s not getting hotter.” Paige is right behind you now, arms wrapped around herself tightly, nose red from the minus temperatures. “I think it’s broken.” You pout, rubbing your hands together for some sort of heat. “You’ve got to be kidding. It’s freezing cold!” Paige groans, kneeling beside you to get a look at the furnace herself.

You’re side by side, brows furrowed looking at the furnace like either of you know how to fix it when everything cuts to black. For a moment, you think you’ve passed out from hypothermia but when you hear Paiges confused, “What the fuck?” You realise you’re still very much conscious and the power has just cut out.

With no heat and no lights, you and Paige scramble around the dark, cold house in search of candles and flashlights, “We could always start a fire.” Paige suggests and she lights the three small candles you found, “Paige. There’s no fireplace, the house would go up in flames.” You say looking at your girlfriend seriously. You loved Paige but sometimes she spoke without thinking.

“We have to do something. I think I might die I’m so cold. You can die from being cold right?” Paige asks with a shiver, “Ok Little Miss Dramatic, let’s get some blankets and huddle like penguins. We can keep each other warm. I’m sure everything will come back on soon enough.”

You and Paige bundle together on the couch, every blanket and duvet in the house piled on top of you. You’re in Paiges lap after she insisted it would keep her warmer and her arms are around your waist, hands tucked under the hoodie you’re wearing.

“I wish we could watch a movie or something, I’m so bored.” You grumbled, nestling further into Paige and she held you closer, hands under your sweater rubbing on your stomach. “I mean…I can think of something we can do.” She says against your neck and the heat of her breath makes your hairs stand on end.

“What? It’s dark and cold, there’s nothing-“ Your sentence is cut short as Paiges hand inches itself down your stomach and into your trousers, “Oh.” You breathe out, opening your legs wider for easier access. Paiges hand is cold against you and you shiver unconsciously, “Just relax.” She husks into your ear and you rest your head back onto her chest as her hand slips into your panties.

Paiges pays special attention to your clit. Rubbing soft circles over it and you hum in response to her touch, your body begins to warm immediately. “Feels good?” Paiges voice is thick and sensual and you buck your hips up, “S’good.” You mumble, eyes falling closed as pleasure begins to take over.

Paige runs her fingers through your folds, already sticky with your slick before pushing two inside of you. You gasp at the feeling of her slender digits filling you up and your mouth remains open as she pumps in and out, your breath heavy and panting.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Paige groans into your ear before sucking your earlobe into her mouth. You move your head to the side so she has better access and she presses her lips to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“Keep going.” You whine and your hand finds Paiges inbetween your legs and rests on top making sure she doesn’t stop her movements.

“Use me baby.” Paige coos, “Tell me how you want it.” Her voice is several octaves deeper and breath hot on your neck making your thoughts hazy and sordid. Your mind that was once focused on how to keep yourself warm was completely distracted by the building pressure in your stomach, the temperature could drop another ten degrees and you’d still feel like you were on fire.

“Faster…harder.” You moan coaxing Paiges hand to speed up and push in deeper. When her finger hits that soft, gummy spot your legs unconsciously writhe, “Shit. My clit…touch it.” You all but beg your girlfriend. Paige loved when you were vocal, telling her exactly how and where you wanted her. She always wanted to make you feel good, she prided herself on it, in fact.

“I said use me baby.” Paige softly asserts, her other hand moving to your thigh, she squeezes it tight, pulling your legs wider apart, “Do whatever you want.”

Your grip on Paiges hand tightens as you guide her fingertips to your clit, pressing them down and moving them in circles, just the way you like it. Just the way they’ve gotten you off so many times before.

Both yours and Paiges fingers were covered in your wetness and it made it easy for you to push them back down and inside, resuming the knocking motion against your g-spot. You could never get enough of Paige, no matter how deep inside you she was, no matter how fast she was driving in, no matter how close to you she was, you always wanted more.

You began to grind your hips on her fingers, your ass pressing into her crotch and the quivery moan that escaped her lips intoxicated you. If Paige Bueckers was a drug, you were an addict. “Shit baby, grinding on me like that makin’ me so wet.”

You were getting needy and desperate to cum and with one hand still focused on hammering Paiges fingers inside of you, you used your other to take her free hand and press it back to your clit. With your hips still grinding and both of Paiges hands on your sopping cunt, you knew your climax was imminent. “Gonna cum soon.” You breathed out and as if on cue, your legs began to twitch, pussy clenching as your heart hammered in your chest.

“That’s it baby, doing so good.” Paige praised, her lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck again. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, everything you were feeling was pushing you over the edge. Her fingers, her lips, her crotch against your ass, her chest rapidly rising and falling against your back, “Oh fuck, P! I’m cumming.” You cried out as your body jerked against hers.

You no longer had the energy to guide Paiges fingers but she continued without you, working you through your high, slowly easing her speed and pace as you relaxed into her.

Your eyes were closed as you basked in the post orgasm euphoria, rested on Paiges chest. You heard a faint click first before the lights flickered back on and the sound of hot air filtered out of the vents. You chuckled, “Perfect timing.”

“Uh huh, perfect timing for round two. Bedroom now. Need to taste you so bad.”

schedule out the window but i promise everything will be posted 😭🙂‍↕️

🏷️: @buecketsnbueckets @rosemariiaa @avvwritesstufff @sierrale8ne @blackbarbie96 @melpthatsme @jnkbueckers @cloclos-posts @onlyhereforpazzi @paigeshirleytemple @mattsmunchkin @bueckersbitch @rizzlerbuckets @numberonepartyanth3m @washing-machine-heart245 @katemartinlvr @girlslovee @taylynbueckers44 @thatonequeer0358 @the-other-half @xxxggggsh @evry1luvzza

[chaerrisin]

for you i would. | han dongmin.

synopsis ୨ৎ han dongmin – your best friend, your closest friend of years – pays a late-night visit at your place. it wasn't rare for him to randomly come over, to do small little actions without you noticing, to get close to you and press soft kisses on your forehead. well, not rare for you, at least. 

pairing: bestfriend!han dongmin x gn!reader | fluff! (includes skinship, kisses, but nothing explicit...) | wc: 1.6k ⊹ ࣪ ˖

a/n: first post, kind of nervous hehe.. absolutely not proofread...

--- ♡ ---

8:30 P.M.

as the snow had been falling, the days felt longer, more lonely than usual. it was cold as you spent the days under the blanket, seeking for warmth, but it was just never enough. the sky had darkened, the snowflakes and stars blurring together, it was quiet. 

a familiar rhythm plays on your front door. five knocks, you know just who it is. lazily getting out from the covers on the couch, you walk to the door, opening to face the one and only, han dongmin. his face is buried in his red knit scarf over a black puffer, but you can tell by his eyes, just barely covered by his messy hair, that it is him.

"let me in, it's freezing out here," he says with a soft, warm chuckle. stepping aside, you let him in, shutting the door behind you, and walking back to the couch under the blanket. as he removes his shoes, he glances up watching you walk back, a soft smile hidden under his scarf. after removing his scarf and coat, he joins you on the couch, plopping down by your side. 

"it's late," you say softly, matter-of-factly. all he can do is huff softly at that, his eyes crinkling the tightest bit. "did you not want me over," he replies, almost teasingly, as if he knew you had been feeling lonely due to the weather. "i missed you. you cold?" he doesn't let you answer before he shuffles closer to you, pulling you into his embrace with his arm tightly around your shoulder, and chin on top of your head. you snuggle closer to him, arms finding a way around his body as the side of your face presses into his shoulder. he shifts slightly just to make you more comfortable against him, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. he's warm despite being outside in the snow just a few minutes ago. dongmin was always warm compared to you, and he always offered to share his warmth. 

"you have a fireplace, why not make use of it." dongmin gets up, pulling you to the direction of the fireplace. you groan softly at the loss of contact and warmth, but as he turns on the fireplace, he pulls you down to sit between his legs on the carpet. "always so cold," he says while rubbing his hands on the side of your arms. "you need to take care of yourself, alright? if you won't, i'll scold you."

"you worry too much, min," you say in almost a hushed whisper, leaning your back onto his chest. his arms snake around your waist as if he were pulling you closer, "i care for you."

"i never said you didn't," obviously said with a smile. he chuckles lightly before nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses there down to your shoulder, causing you to shiver slightly and tilt your head in response for more access. it was a common action shared between you and dongmin. it felt normal, well, it was normal. he continues to press kisses, alternating from soft to firm, as his arms hold you tighter against him. he's enjoying having his arms around you, kissing you softly, having you all to himself, just as you are enjoying the feel of his body and warmth on yours. dongmin always made you feel this way. warm. even without the fireplace, or the blanket, he had this warmth to him.

"dongmin?" you softly whisper his name, getting his attention as he pauses before pressing one last kiss on your shoulder. "hm," he hums in reply, looking over as he rests his chin on your shoulder. "what is it, y/n?" his voice is soft, as usual when he speaks to you.

you sigh softly in content, pressing yourself back just the tiniest bit more into him, looking at him as you press the side of your head on his forehead. "i really needed you..."

"hm?" as if he didn't understand, he replies, "what do you mean?" you don't know what you mean, or why you said it in the first place. it kind of just came out. in a hushed tone, you speak, "i don't know.... it's just like you always know when i need you..."

dongmin doesn't quite understand, but he holds you tighter, "well, i am your savior aren't i?" he laughs softly, his breath softly on the side of your neck. "mmm, you are." you hum. your hands find a way on his, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand. "how do you always know when to come?"

"because i could read your mind." he says this playfully, but his tone softens as he sighs. "but i always come when i need you."

there it is again. that feeling of warmth, this time, in your heart. it's quiet for some time. the silence comfortable, yet filled with this undiscovered emotion between you two.

"why do you do this?" the question slips out, not in a harsh manner, but a gentle tone that voices out the slight vulnerability. "do what?" dongmin replies. "this. this thing that you do," shifting ever so slightly to face him more. "why do you things you would never do?"

the question catches dongmin off guard; you can see it in his slight eyebrow raise and pursing of lips. he's not sure if he should take offense or explain himself. "i care about you," is all he replies with. a short and simple response that doesn't quite satisfy you, but at least it was an answer. he can see the slight disappointment in your eyes at his vague answer, sighing before he clears his throat. "you know i'd do anything for you, right?"

there's a small pause before he continues, his voice even softer than before. "i don't do these things because i don't really like to," he shifts you to face him more while still sitting between his legs. he makes eye contact, locking eyes with yours, and never leaving them. it's almost overwhelming with how soft his eyes are, the fireplace reflecting in his eyes, as if they were the reason they were so warm. he speaks again in a hushed whisper as his hands find yours, intertwining your fingers together, "but for you i would."

your breath starts to pick up in the slightest way, the intimacy of the moment becoming slightly overwhelming. neither you or dongmin remove your eyes from each other. one hand releases yours and moves up to your neck, tilting your head up. he leans his head forward, resting his forehead on yours, noses brushing against each other. "i would do so many things for you. so many things, y/n." his gaze finally flickers away from your eyes down to your lips, "anything," as he looks back into your eyes. the moment is charged of unspoken feelings, both dongmin's breathing, as well as your own, becoming more heavy and falling into rhythm as your chest heaves. your heart is pumping, you can feel it. you're sure he could hear it too, unless that's his heart beating just as loudly, in the same pace as yours.

dongmin leans closer, tilting your head further back as he gently presses his lips on yours. the kiss is soft, sweet, and warm. just like dongmin. slow and steady, his lips move against yours, not once rushing things to not ruin the moment. he pulls away with his forehead resting on yours again, his breath slightly ragged, looking deep into your eyes as if he were searching for your reaction. your breath coming out in soft gasps, your eyes look up at his, wide and purely. 

the two of you stay studying each other's gaze. finally breaking the silence, dongmin, in his usual warm tone, says the words, "i love you," his breath hitting your lips.

as if time had stopped, you finally register his words. you can't get the own words to fall out of your mouth as the moment still comes as a shock. you lean up slightly, pressing your lips on his softly for a couple seconds, just to feel them on yours again. "dongmin... i..." looking up, you can see the hesitance in his eyes, waiting for your response. "i love you... i... i love you a lot..."

dongmin's round, dark brown eyes warm up again, a small smile forming on his lips. he tries to remain cool and collected by quickly looking down, but as he looks back up at you, he can't help but feel his heart flutter and let out a soft huff of a chuckle. "oh thank goodness...." he says in breathy relief. he looks at you softly, his smile uncontrollably starting to quirk up again, "someone loves meeee," teasingly.

you can't help but laugh at his tactics, somehow always finding a way to change the mood of things within a second. "you really couldn't keep the moment going?" you whine slightly in faux annoyance, but the smile on your lips fails your attempt. dongmin clears his throat, "for you i would," attempting to keep a straight face, but he can't keep the small smile from forming on his face. he buries his into your neck, pulling you down onto him as he lays back against the carpet. "mine," he says slightly possessively into your neck, "do i have the honor?"

well, what else can you say? you nod as you laugh softly in his embrace, laying over him. "call me what you want, as long as i feel your warmth," with an obvious smile plastered on your face, knowing only for you, would he share his warmth.

--- ♡ ---

thank u for reading. please do not copy!

© chaerrisin, 2024.

[s4toruz]

snowy night - oneshot

summary: satoru and you are about to go home after your unsuccessful first date, but the car breaks down, making you stay there on a winter night, with no heat and angry glances.

tags: gojo x reader, fluff, winter fic

warnings: none, just swearing

word count: 1.7K

awkward, painful silence sat in the car as you and gojo were driving home from the unsuccessful date you two just had. outside the snow wasn't just gently falling, but pouring from the sky, clouding the windows too, the sun was setting on the horizon, pinkish light illuminating the landscape before you.

your arms were crossed, your gaze looking through the window with slightly narrowed eyes as you try to ignore the white-haired boy sitting next to you with the wheel in his hands and pout on his lips.

you barely even remembered what exactly started the arguement between you two, but you were certain that it was his fault and without an apology, the date shouldn't continue. him acting like the annoying, stubborn person he is, just continued the bickering further, not thinking it would really end the whole date.

well it did.

"going on a date together was a stupid idea to begin with" you think with a quiet huff as your grip on your coat tightens.

all your friends were nagging you to go on a date already, shoko stating that she could see the 'chemistry' between you. well it seems like she's blind, because even when you all are spending time together, you and gojo just cannot get along. never.

could he make you ever smile? yeah that happened sometimes. did you notice that sometime's he's acting like he wants to catch speifically your attention? of course you did. did some of your conversations live rent-free in your head? perhaps.

but.

does that mean that you have to go on a whole ass date just to continue the endless cycle of pushing eachothers buttons? absolutely not.

"are you thinking about how you want to apologise?" he looked at you from the corner off his eye, a suppressed smile tugging on his lips.

"are you?" you glare back. "because if one should apologise that is you and you only."

he just looked back at the road, not ready to admit defeat, but deep down knowing that maybe he shouldn't have tried to make you jealous. at least not on the first date.

"i have nothing to apologise for" he then answered with a shrug, immediately regretting the descision. why was it so hard to just apologise to you? he didn't understand.

"nothing?" you scoff. "you know-"

before you could continue on with your scolding, a loud, sudden sound comes from the front of the car, making you jump a little. the vehicle started to slow down on the snowy road until it eventually stopped, gojo pulling in over just in time.

"what happened?" you glance at him as he's trying to start the engine again, without any success whatsoever.

"no idea" comes the not so helpful answer before gojo opens his door, getting out of the car. "stay inside."

you watch him open the car hood, looking into the car. you follow him, standing next to him in the ankle-deep snow and staring at the vehicle. you place your hands on your hips and lean forward in the hope of seeing something.

"what are we looking at?" you ask.

"i told you to stay inside, it's cold here" he says grumpily, not answering your question.

"oh, so you're suddenly now worried? or just missing that waitress?" you say with a scoff which makes him grin a little.

"so you did become jealous! i knew it!"

"i did not. now stay silent and fix the car, make yourself useful!"

he hums, looking into the vehicle like he is concentrating on something, then back at you.

"i have no idea how this works" he says.

"are you telling me that we're stuck here?" you say every word slowly, frustration penting up in you.

"exactly!" a big smile spreads on his lips. "don't worry, i already told shoko to come and get us."

you narrow your eyes a little bit. the wind was blowing hard, your hair blowing in your face, you felt like you're about to become a snowman if you stand there for more than two minutes.

"then why are we even standing here gojo??"

a dramatic gasp escapes his lips, hand on his heart theatrically.

"c'mon love, not the last name!! did this date mean nothing to you?" he whines.

"you didn't answer my question!" i cross my arms, looking around. we really are in the middle of nowhere. not even street lights were around, it was starting to get dark.

"it's adorable to watch as your cheeks turn red from the cold" he finally answers, not surprising you the least.

"i can't help but feel like you're still trying so hard!"

"and the problem with that...?" his smirk widened, making you a little angrier. if he could've just apologised for flirting with the waitress, you two would be in a so so much better situation, but no that's where he draws the line!

you just leave him there before he could say anything, you get back into the car on the backseat, shivering as you already feel the temperature of the car lower drastically, windows becoming somewhat icy, the seats feeling hard and cold too.

you look around for any blankets but get interrupted by the white haired annoyance, dropping himself on the seat next to you.

a sigh of frustration leaves your lips, crossing your arms as an attempt to warm yourself up while staring outside through the window once again.

the car was pulled over in a quite pretty area, a forest covered in soft snow, the lonely branches of the trees holding the weight quietly, a few crows sitting on them before all of them opens their wings, flying away and only leaving two behind. the restaurant he brought you to was higher on the mountain, making the landscape from there even more beautiful.

of course he had to fuck it up.

the moments were slow, every second lasting decades as you two sat in silence, cold running on your body, the shivering was now undeniable.

you glanced at him, he didn't make any effort to warm himself up, he even took off his coat. suddenly unwanted thoughts started to invade your mind, talking about how warm his body must be.

"aren't you cold?" you ask after a few minutes.

gojo's blue eyes meet yours, at first, for a teeny tiny second he seems like he'll smile but then just pouted instead, his hands fiddling with his clothes. if he just held your hand in his, that would probably make the cold more bearable.

"why? you worried?"

you huff, turning your head away again. you knew that your worry was exactly what he wanted at that moment.

"you're just crazy" you answer, expecting the conversation to continue but he doesn't say another thing.

you look at him again, but as soon as you do, he wraps his black coat around you, trapping you with it and pulling you into his arms, your head against his chest, a small yelp leaving your lips.

his body felt warm, but yours started to feel a little bit warmer somehow. the stiffness leaves you seconds later, even though you try not to melt into the hug too much.

his arms were holding you close, his head rested on top of yours, his heartbeats seemed to speed up even if just a little bit.

"gojo-"

"don't even start a sentence like that" he interrupts you with an almost childish frown on his face.

"you have three seconds to say that before i push you away and drag you into that forest." your voice is threatening but somehow he still managed to hear the smile in your tone that you tried to hide with every fiber of your body.

"c'mon, don't be cruel!" gojo whined, glancing down at you.

"two..."

his grip around you slightly tightened as if he was afraid that you'd really pull away.

"one-"

"fine, i love you!!" he said as fast as he could, his gaze turned away.

your breath hitches, eyes widen at the sudden confession, you feel like you've been slapped in the face, in the best way possible.

"you what?" you ask, trying to steady your voice.

at least being cold definetly wasn't your number one problem anymore.

"isn't that what you wanted to hear??" he questions dramatically, raising his voice a little.

"i wanted a fucking apology!" disbelief in your voice as you match his tone.

a few moments of silence comes as he is just staring at you, blinking slowly. you had to admit he looked quite adorable like this, big blue eyes looking at you, a small blush creeping on his cheeks.

"oh!"

you can't help but chuckle at his reaction, a grin appearing on your face.

"so you love me?"

"and if i do?" he huffs.

"then, satoru" you start out, already seeing his expression light up when you finally say his first name. he just loved how it left your lips so effortlessly yet with so much kindness. "you're extremely lucky because i may be feeling the same way."

"i knew it!" he says smugly, trying to forget that he ever questioned it. of course you love him. "from day one."

you raise one eyebrow, glancing up at him once again.

"day one i wanted to strangle you."

he pouts again.

"and now?"

"i still want to strangle you" you say. "but now with a little affection."

he chuckles, pulling you so close that you're basically sitting on his lap at this point. he hides his face in the crook of your neck, his hair in his face, arms around your body as he is still trying to warm you up.

big snowflakes started to fall from the sky, the storm quieting down. all you could feel was his body hugging yours warmly, his scent filling your mind, fogging your rational thoughts as you melt into his embrace.

time slowed down but you couldn't been happier.

"say it" he mumbled eventually.

you sigh, eyes closing while a smile is spreading on your lips.

"i love you too."

after those words, you slowly start to feel like your eyelids are becoming heavier, all the adrenaline from the frustration leaving your body. your breathing becomes relaxed and before you drift into sleep, you have to admit, maybe shoko was right about this whole thing after all. maybe it could work out.

© s4toruz 2024 , do not copy , modify or translate my work

haii!! i hope you had a good time reading this, it's the first fanfic i've ever written so sorry if it's not that good! also, english is not my first language so if i made a mistake feel free to correct me (^-^)

comments are appreciated!!

m.list || navigation

[snowsinterlude]

melted snowflake.

(coriolanus x plinth!reader)

summary: coriolanus never thought he would fall into his own trap. his plan wasn't falling for you. no, it was the contrary, he was supposed to use you. but god, you were so perfect for him.

based on this ask!

c.w: snow being a bit of a jerk, manipulation, jealousy, plinth reader x coriolanus snow, snow being head over heels with you, fluff (?)

you were a district girl, of course. your parents made sure to take that out of your head, but you couldn't simply forget about everything you lived in the districts. you were a child, but it didn't mean you were dumb or blind not to caught up on the things surrounding you.

the first time you saw snow was when your father met panem's president and left you to play on the kindergarden with your brother, sejanus. of course, it didn't go as planned when you were pushed away by a random kid and he protected you and your brother.

of course, after that, he never talked to you guys. a snow is not supposed to talk nor look at poverty with kindness. that's what his grandma'am taught him.

with this being explained, neither him nor his grandma'am expected your family to get richer than the snows, but after his father's death it was only natural they would be poor.

"y/n?" he approached you, now at the academy. he was a beautiful young man, often obtained your attention because of how much praise he recoeved from teachers and others. even though you were rich now, of course you wouldn't fit in as well as he did. not when you and your brother disagreed with everything the capitol kids stood for. "i'm sorry to interrupt you, but the teacher assigned us to do our assignment together." it was a lie. you could tell right away.

but why not see where he'll go with this?

well, that's what you decided to do. every lie he told you made you want to slap him from how dumb he seemed to think you were.

everyday you would caught him staring at you, at your eyes. stealing glances, stealing everything he could from you. hearing your voice was turning out to be the best moments of his days. but you knew deep in your heart that he was taking you for stupid. you were a girl, smaller than him, more soft looking than him, and he thought it was adorable.

but snow, being a snow, had something other than that silly feelings in his body. plans that didn't go as planned when you slapped his face hard, the red print kf your hand on his white skin being visible.

"hey! what are you-?" you interrupted him.

"look, i allowed you to go as far as lie to me about everything, even what others had to say to me. but i will not allow you to say anything about feelings, snow. this isn't funny. this is sick, and twisted. to think you want to have whatever i want so much that you would go as far as say you love me makes me sick." you said, and he blinked his eyes quickly, dumbly looking at you.

"ah, c'mon. don't look at me like that. you really thought i would believe you when you said clemencia hated me? man, she doesn't even know my name!" you kept going, and he gasped a feel times, his hand touching the place you slapped. "stop coming after me."

and you were gone, just like that. everything snow had planned for you both had gone down the drain while you walked away from him.

and after that, he tried to talk to you. he truly did. but you were always so far away from him, and when you caught a glimpse of him walking your way, you would always exit whatever place you were entering.

"man, what you did to the plinth girl? she's running from you like the devil runs from a cross." festus said, watching you exit the library the moment he stood up from the desk they were in.

"i don't know," he said, but he knew what he did to you. he knew he was wrong. and god, the ache he felt on his chest when he saw you laughing at a joke some body made to you was unberable.

that's when he noticed it. that's when he noticed he liked you, more than he planned to. you were supposed to be his accessory, his pretty ornament on the shelf, used when needed to. but now? ah, you had him at your bare feet and you didn't even knew, and if you did, you didn't care.

it was his fault, of course. he didn’t need to tell you that clemencia hated your guts, or that festus was betting that he could fuck you till the end of the year when you said he was pretty, or anything before and after that.

and thinking of that, he had a white bouquet of roses on his hand, provided by his grandma'am when he said he needed to apologize to the prettiest girl he had ever seen. mentally rehearsing his apology and what he would say, he didn’t even notice when he was already at your door, nervously knocking.

you were rich. why was it you the one who answered the door? god, if you were his wife in a near future, you wouldn't even need to move your hands to eat a grape and-

slam!

you closed the door right when you saw the white bouquet on his hand and the ashamed face he had on.

"y/n!" he called you, knocking on the door and pressing the bell of your house multiple times. it was so loud, so irritating, that you opened the door again.

"god, what the hell do you want?!" you asked, angrily frowning at him.

"you," he said. "please, i'm sorry. i-i didn't took you for stupid- you're actually the smartest girl i've seen in the academy, and the prettiest too, and i'm so sorry for being a douchebag to you but i wasn't planning on-" he stopped talking, gulping down.

"planning on what? being a jerk? a liar? a manipulator? a-"

"on falling in love." he said.

"there he goes again." you said, rolling your eyes.

"y/n, i'm serious!"

"prove me." you said, crossing your arms. and he fell on his knees at your feet, placing the roses delicately on your ground. "i'm sorry. i think love is a weakness, i am not used to feeling it- nor any kind of affection towards others but- i can't stand the sight of you, the thought of you being with anyone that isn't me, please-"

ah, how cute. anyone who saw coriolanus at your feet right now would be surprised, his grandma'am would go nuts, saying that snow's are supposed to be on top and not on the bottom of some district girl's feet. but he didn’t mind. he needed to do it. if being on his knees was the only way to get back at you, fuck it. he would be.

"get up." you said, looking away. he obeyed you promptly, eyes looking at you with hope. "that's your last chance, coriolanus." he nodded, almost falling on his knees to kiss your feet.

well, within the span time of seven months, you both were dating. but it didn't change much, coriolanus was always, and i mean always ready to get on his knees for you. he was a sucker for you, even if he was all high and mighty with others, with you, he was a melted snowflake. and he was fine with it.

[sc0tters]

What If I’m Cold? | Mat Barzal

summary: when one winter night gets a little cold, Mat has the perfect solution to help you fall asleep.

requested: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, oral (fem receiving!) unprotected p in v, cock warming, swearing.

word count: 2.31k

authors note: merry Christmas to all those celebrating! I really did want to get something out for him for Christmas and I gave up on a different idea so we instead used him for another smut!

You hated the cold.

The different scarves and excuse to stay home and watch Christmas movies with your hot chocolate, couldn’t amount to the way you hated the cold.

Your body would freeze and it seemed that the moment the weather broke through the many layers you were constantly forced into, you were fucked. Most people loved how the snow made the perfect excuse to stay inside, and how the rain made a serene lullaby.

The summer was where you thrived, frozen margaritas and long days in the sun with picnics on the beach were your summer. But as you lived in New York, you had no choice but to suck it up.

That was how you ended up looking as if you were auditioning to be a cocoon with all the layers of thick blankets and duvets on top of you. The heat was as high as it could go without him fully burning up from next to you.

“Baby I can feel you fidgeting.”

The words made you freeze as you looked at the clock seeing the time on his bedside table reading 3:00 in red illuminated numbers “I can’t sleep.” You whined still feeling your cold feet, that hadn’t seemed to warm.

It made him smile as he finally opened his eyes “and what am I meant to do about that?” Mat blinked rolling over to face you.

Even after four and a half years of living together, the sight of your cold body in bed never failed to make him laugh as you really did believe that you couldn’t have enough blankets. His eyes felt as if they dug into your soul “I don’t know.” You batted your eyelashes as you let your foot settle between his legs wanting to warm them up.

It resulted in a high pitched screech that came from his lips as he almost jumped out of your bed “fuck me you’re freezing!” Mat yelled making you softly laugh.

The gesture was innocent as you let a giggle slip from your lips “‘s not my fault.” You grumbled watching him get settled back into his side of the bed.

There was this comfort that settled over you both as he let out a yawn “just try to get some sleep.” His voice was soothing as he watched you frown “can you at least cuddle me?” You pleaded letting out a whine as he remained silent.

“Please.” You begged, dragging out the E making him click his tongue “c’mere.” He mumbled moving the blankets up so that you could crawl into the space next to him. The move was quick as you weren’t going to waste any time, incase he hesitated or even changed his mind.

A snow storm had settled over New York in the late hours of the previous day, so as many cheered for the definite white Christmas. You were cursing the way the cold practically nipped at your soul “stupid snow.” You grumbled causing a laugh to erupt from his lips as he kissed the lobe of your ear.

His hands wrapped around the waistband of your pants. He always found it so funny that even with your hatred of winter, you loved those long Christmas pyjamas.

You softly nodded as you let your eyes travel to the picture on bedside table. It was a framed one of the two of you, grinning as Mat had convinced you to join him for a skate at the Rockerfeller Center. Oh how you laughed so hard that day as you could barely stand upright without landing on your ass.

Mat could feel that you remained awake, even as he tried to let his slumber consume him “what is it baby?” His voice way rough, echoing in your ears “I promise I’ll go to sleep soon.” You tried to brush it off, wanting him to not be tarred with the same lack of sleep as you.

But after all these years, Mat knew that you weren’t just going to fall asleep. In fact, you would happily stare into the abyss until the sun rose if you couldn’t fall asleep.

So instead Mat did the only thing he could as he let his hand grip at your hip “baby.” His voice was sweet as he peppered the side of your neck with kisses.

It made your breath hitch as you gripped at the pillow beneath you “let me warm you up.” Mat knew his suggestions were right as he felt you drive your body back into his.

You rolled over again, getting to look up at him as he smiled “you don’t have to.” You let your cold hands run over his collarbone, a purple hickey decorated the one “ain’t gotta worry about being cold my pretty girl.” Mat cooed as he tucked his fingers through the ends of your hair.

His words made your thighs clench together. He took little effort to get on top of you as he smiled “always did love these on you.” Mat confessed toyed with the buttons on pink pj top that was complimented by blue bows “but I know they are better off.” His voice was devious as he kissed you.

The feeling of his stubble was rough against your cheeks, but you didn’t seem to care as you could taste the minty toothpaste that he had used only a couple of hours ago.

You melted into his touch as he tilted your jaw getting more access as his tongue swiped across your lower lip as he pulled away, pressing soft kisses against your jaw and slowly traveled down your neck “please Matty.” You begged feeling his hands press under your shirt before he began to open the buttons.

Mat sat up to look at you as if he was admitting a statue crafted by the gods “can’t say no when you ask so nicely.” You propped yourself up when you watched him shimmy under the covers, making you realise that you weren’t as cold as you once felt.

The hockey player pulled your pants down, letting out a hum of praise as you lifted your hips to help him “always been my prefect girl.” Mat pressed a kiss against each of your thighs as he let his hand cup your cunt, feeling just how soaked you were.

As the anticipation got the better of you, you pulled the sheet up to see his tooth grin staring back at you “oh fuck-” you brought your hand up to cup your mouth as he chuckled “ain’t even done nothing yet doll.” He smirked reaching his hand up to tug on your arm.

You didn’t put up a fight as you nodded “you know that moaning helps you warm up.” Mat didn’t give you a chance to respond as he ran his tongue through your folds “god!”you arched your back driving your hips further into his hold.

His fingers soon followed suit as he latched his lips into your clit whilst he let his fingers thrust into your cunt “such a sweet cunt.” Mat grunted sending shivers through your body “all for me too ain’t it?” He smiled tugging at your hips.

You nodded as he went back to lapping at you as if you were his last meal “always yours Mat.” You moaned allowing your fingers to latch into his locks of hair.

The feeling of his facial hair against your cunt was a sensation that you had grown to love during the November months as the team always feel into a movember bet of sorts.

His hand slid up your stomach to your breast as he let your nipple roll between his fingers “holy fuck Mat.” Your eyes screwed shut as you pushed your head into your pillow.

There was a pornographic moan that left your lips as your cunt clenched around his fingers that made his cock grow hard as he let his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud. He opted to change to his middle and ring ringer as he could sense that you were close.

Your thighs began to tense around his head “I-i.” Your voice stammered as your chest heaved “I know sweet girl, just let it go.” His blessing made you pant and your body shook.

Mat curved his fingers into a come here motion as the movement of his tongue became needy, as if he was craved your release just as much as you did.

His name fell in a steady stream of repetition as you rolled your hips against his face as your vision grew dark with whit stars painted across your eyelids “so sweet.” He smirked as his lips left your cunt with a pop as he sucked at his fingers whilst he stared at dazed eyes.

A soft smile formed on your lips as your eyes traveled down his body, as if you took a mental image of chiseled torso all the way down to his bulge that popped in his grey boxers “still think I’m pretty cold.” There was cheekiness in your voice as the boy smirked “is that so?” He asked as you nodded.

It was amusing how after all these years the two of you never seemed to lose that playful joy that lived within this relationship.

Mat would have pulled you on top of him but the sight in front of him, was one for the sorest of eyes “still so needy.” He clicked his tongue as he leaned down with barely any space between you both “that’s the pot calling the kettle black.” You rolled your eyes as you placed your hands on his cheeks bringing him into a kiss.

His hips dragged against yours making you jump as your cunt was still sensitive “fucker!” You grumbled as Mat let his head drop to the crook of your neck as he laughed.

The boy left his head there as he focused on tugging down the waistband of his boxers “shit I need you so bad.” He nipped at your shoulder whilst he pumped the swollen head of his cock a few times “please baby.” Your nails scratched along his spine as he nodded.

His cock tapped your clit twice before he dragged the head down your slit as he placed his free hand next to your head, allowing him to prop himself up as he stared into your eyes “fucking hell.” Your hand gripped his wrist as he let his cock get swallowed by your cunt until pubic bone was met with your hips.

The way your walls stretched to the shape of his cock at an instant was enough to make him contemplate cumming on the spot “Mat.” Your voice barely broke a whisper as he nodded, beginning to pull away from you.

A mix of street and Christmas lights shone through a crack in the curtain as it hit the gold necklace that sat around your neck with the little M comfortable between your breasts.

The sight made him grow feral almost as he lifted your thighs wrapping your legs around him “you feel so good.” Mat cooed beginning to thrust his cock deeper into your cunt with the new angle.

Mat kissed your lips as you let out a whimper “just like that.” You whimpered sending him a nod as your lips hung open, lost in the pleasure you felt as he fucked you “shit.” The hockey players eyebrows furrowed as you clenched around him feeling his cock throb.

His eyes traveled down to see where your skin smacked against his as he let out a grunt “wanna hear you.” Mat kissed at your neck, sucking new bruises that were sure to leave a mark.

You let your lip get caught between your teeth as you let your hips grind against his, desperate to chase your high “please.” You nodded letting your hands scratched his back.

Mat continued to hit all the right spots as he let his thumb fall to your clit “just like that.” Your moans echoed against the walls around you as tears formed in your eyes.

Pleasure clouded your mind “fuck Mat so good.” You whimpered feeling your body spasm against him as your toes curled.

For Mat that was what sent him over the ended as his release shot ropes against your walls as his head rested on top of yours “that was so fucking hot.” You swore feeling him pull out of you.

Mat smiled as he rolled off of you, watching as the mix of both of your releases oozed out of your cunt “atta’ girl.” He pressed a kiss against your temple as you let out a yawn “finally gonna get to sleep now huh?” Mat asked as he lay down back on his own side as you let your legs shut whilst he used his hand to bring your pants up.

Just as the boy let his eyes shut you let out a sigh loud enough for him to look at you “what?” He asked seeing that your arms were clearly buttoning up your top.

You let your smile grow as you sucked at your teeth “what if I get cold during the night?” The silence that hung around you both, made it clear he was listening and had taken the bait.

His hands were rough against your stomach as your pants were pulled down just enough for him to move your legs open “you happy?” Mat scoffed thrusting his cock back into your cunt knowing that he was still hard and your cunt was slick with lust and release.

You nodded feeling him kiss your head “absolutely fabulous.” You clenched around his cock feeling him slowly continue to thrust his cock before he let it stop.

His fingers slowly toyed with your cunt as if he was coaxing you into your slumber“such a fucking brat.” He grumbled letting his legs entangle yours “yeah but I’m your brat.”