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bitethedevil · 3 days ago

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A House of Hope (Modern!AU Raphael x Tav): Chapter 3

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Last Chapter

Fic summary: Tav lives at her mom's place after a tough break-up with her former boyfriend. Rent isn't cheap anywhere, but one day her mom finds her someone online who presents a tempting new living situation that won't break her bank account.

Tav moves into the Haven estate and becomes a part of Raphael's House of Hope project: a project that helps unfortunate souls to get back on their feet. Although, something is not quite right about the house and her fellow tenants. That's not to mention her odd landlord who seems to be hiding something...

AN: There's smuuuut.

WARNING: NSFT Content, Somnophilia, Non-Con, Oral

Tav felt hands move slowly up her legs and then settle on her hips. She was still half asleep.

The hands moved up under her shirt. They were delightfully warm, making her utter a content moan. The fabric of her shirt was pushed upwards, and she felt equally warm lips press against the skin of her stomach. Her breath hitched ever so slightly.

Kisses trailed up to one of her breasts. A hot tongue licked at her nipple, making her shiver and arch her back. The owner of the tongue took the hint and lowered their mouth over her breast, sucking and nibbling at her skin. It felt amazing.

Tav’s eyes only fluttered open when her nipple was released with a wet pop. They quickly fluttered shut again when she suddenly felt lips against hers.

Whoever it was, they smelled better than anything she had ever smelled before.

Almost instinctively, she parted her lips for them, eager to taste them too. Their tongue invaded her mouth. The taste was sugary sweet.

When they broke the kiss, she almost whined at the loss and her eyes finally opened to see who this mystery person was.

It was Raha, the beautiful woman she had briefly met the day before.

Tav’s mind was too hazy now to think it was odd. Raha gave her a toothy grin, flashing her sharp canines. Tav couldn’t pry her eyes away from her sharp teeth.

“I thought you might appreciate a warm welcome,” Raha purred.

“Hmhm…” Tav responded with something between a drunken moan and a hum, still mesmerized by the young woman’s sharp teeth.

Raha spoke again, but this time an entirely different voice came out of her mouth when she spoke.

“Shhh-shh-shh. Just relax, darling,” they said in a voice that sounded exactly like Raphael’s, though the tone was all wrong. “You’re home~”

She looked up at Raha’s face and found that it was no longer a young woman hovering over her. It was a devil with orange, glowing eyes and huge horns. The features were Raphael’s. Tav began to squirm, a sense of panic pushing its way through the haze of her mind.

Raha-Raphael shushed her once again and lowered themself between her legs. The second their tongue found the wetness between her thighs, her panic faded into the background of her mind as pleasure took over instead.

Her eyes fluttered shut once more and her breath grew shallower as they hungrily ate her out. The hungry groans of the devil between her legs mixed with the sound of their tongue exploring her dripping wetness were downright sinful.

Tav felt a strand of hair tickle her now sweaty brow. She absentmindedly moved her hand up to brush it out of the way.

Although…her hand got stuck on something foreign. Something hard and almost bone-like was protruding from her head. She grasped at it, yanked at it and found that it was a part of her.

Her breathing got quicker as the panic started pressing its way to the forefront again.

“No, hey…mm…stop, what—” she mumbled. “What’s happening?”

Tav moved her hand to stop the devil between her legs. She froze when she saw her own hand. Her skin was scaly and red, and her nails were sharp, dark claws. Her mind became crystal clear just like that.

She was suddenly able to take in her surroundings.

The bed she was in, and all of the furniture around her, was red and gold like most of the furniture at Haven but she had never seen this room before.

Her eyes were suddenly caught by the landscape outside. She could see it over the railing of the balcony: a barren, hellish landscape.

She screamed.

Tav woke up in a pool of cold sweat, breathing hard. She quickly noticed that it was a bit too bright outside and picked up her phone.

10:26

Slight panic rose as she realized that she should have been at work over an hour ago. Her alarm should have gone off at least three hours ago so that she had time to figure out how to get into the city. She must have slept through it somehow.

She quickly pulled on her clothes and ran a brush through her hair, before running to the main house.

She knocked on the door and John opened it shortly after.

“Morning, John,” Tav said with a quick, polite smile. “I’m in a bit of a hurry. Is Raphael still here?”

John gave her a nod and opened the door for her.

“Alright, great,” she said hurriedly. “Where?”

John made a gesture for her to follow him. She held in a frustrated groan. She had hoped she could just find him herself instead of following John’s snail pace around the house.

She was led into a room that was brightly lit by the sun. It had big windows that you could see a good part of the garden from. Raphael was calmly painting something in the middle of the room.

“I thought I very specifically said that I did not want to be disturbed,” Raphael said in a tight, but still calm tone, not even moving his eyes from the canvas.

“Maria wished to speak with you,” John said in a quiet, apologetic tone.

That made Raphael turn his head. His eyes lit up when he saw her and the tightness of his features at getting disturbed vanished in a heartbeat. Tav was bouncing on her legs, eager to get a move on.

“Tav, dear. What can I do for you?”

“I’m really sorry about barging in like this, but I really need to know how to get back to the city from out here. I slept through my alarm, and my shift started at 9. I heard there was something about a bus?”

Raphael made a dismissive gesture.

“I’ll drive you,” he said. “It will get you there sooner than the bus. Give me a moment to change my clothes and I will be right with you.”

She let out a small sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much…”

She watched as he wiped his paint-stained fingers on a rag behind him and then unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing. She couldn’t pry her eyes off him as he shook it off. She got a good glimpse of his bare back.

Her thoughts involuntarily went back to the dream.

Raphael was handsome, there was no doubt about it, but he was definitely not the usual type she went for. He was too old and took himself too seriously for her tastes. Still, that odd, terrifying dream must have awakened something in her.

She adjusted her gaze when he turned to face her.

“Come,” he said with a smile.

He gently put his hand on her shoulder when he passed her, sending a slight jolt of something through her.

She watched as his long fingers moved over the screen of the GPS, typing in the location. She followed their movements as they started the car and then gripped the steering wheel. The car purred and came to life.

“A kindergarten, hm?”

She snapped back to reality. She suddenly noticed that she had been staring and looked out through the window instead.

“Yeah.”

“Surely there are no children being sent there on a Sunday,” Raphael said.

“No, but I don’t work on Fridays,” she explained. “The mess from the week luckily stays put until Sunday.”

“It seems slightly unsanitary to leave said mess over the weekend, no? Children can be…”

“Disgusting? Yeah. They are.”

Raphael chuckled.

“Good thing is that the staff who with the kids usually cleans up a bit too,” Tav explained. “In the weekends I mostly do the floors, walls, windows…Any kinds of surfaces, really. Those little buggers put their hands and faces on everything…”

“I can only imagine,” he said, his nose crinkling in slight disgust at the thought. “Will you get in trouble for being late?”

“Probably not,” she answered. “I rarely get a visit from my boss and there’s no security cameras to prove that I was there or not.”

“I see.”

The small talk came to a lull. Tav looked out the window as they drove. She could not get that damned dream out of her head. It wasn’t unusual for her to have some odd dreams every now and again, but this one had been so vivid.

“You seem tense, dear,” Raphael noted, pulling her from her thoughts. “I hope that I am not overstepping any boundaries, but is it only about the job?”

She looked at him in the rearview mirror. He looked back with a glint of something in his eyes that didn’t seem like worry, but something else entirely. She brushed it off and looked away.

“Just…some weird dream I had…”

“Ah, I see,” he said. “Those are not uncommon amongst the residents at the estate, I hear. I believe it may have something to do with the sounds the house makes. It does something to the imagination.”

“Yeah,” Tav mumbled. “Must be that.”

The car stopped outside her workplace.

“Here we are,” Raphael announced. “When are you off from work?”

“Around two.”

“I will send a car to retrieve you then,” he said with a smile. “Have fun with your cleaning.”

She gave him a bright sarcastic smile, followed by a genuine one before getting out of the car.

“Thank you for this.”

“You are very welcome,” he purred. “Any time.”

She shut the door, and he drove off. She dug out the keys to the building from her bag and unlocked the door. Just as she swung it open, her eyes met with the disgruntled face of her boss who had come to visit.

Just her luck.

She was exhausted. Not only had her boss been over her like a hawk while she worked, but when she got home her mother came with her things and hovered over her with the same intensity while she unpacked.

She had finally got rid of her and was granted a moment of solitude, when she heard a knock on her door. She made a long, frustrated whine and then opened it.

It was Linda.

“I made too much food,” Linda said. “I gathered that you might not have had the time to fill your fridge yet, so if you want some, you can join me.”

Tav smiled and rubbed her face tiredly with the palm of her hand. She hadn’t had a moment throughout the day to even think about feeding herself. She suspected that the offer might just be an excuse to have some company, but it was a really nice thought regardless.

“I’d love some,” she muttered. “Thank you.”

Linda led her into her apartment. It was surprisingly homely. All of the red and gold furniture had been replaced with Linda’s own, she noticed. The new furniture wasn’t fancy by any means, but it looked comfortable.

“Just sit wherever. I’ll bring you a bowl.”

Tav sat down on the soft, turquoise couch and melted into it immediately.

“Love what you’ve done to the place.”

Linda huffed, thinking she was being sarcastic.

“Oh, no-no, I mean it,” Tav quickly said. “It’s really nice. Homey. I haven’t bothered making my place my own yet. I just kept the furniture it came with.”

“Yes, well,” Linda said and filled a bowl with stew. “When you’ve haven’t had a home for as long as I, you learn to appreciate being able to choose your surroundings. Everything here, I’ve bought with my own hard-earned money.”

She had wondered what Linda’s deal was. Everyone she had met seemed to have something that made them end up at Haven.

“You were homeless?”

“For most of my twenties through my forties,” Linda replied and handed her the bowl. “Here.” She sat down beside her. “Raphael found me and offered me a job and a home. Who could refuse that?”

Tav smiled. The stew smelled great, despite her not really being able to discern what it was. She took a spoonful of it and blew on it before taking a bite.

“Do you like it?”

Tav nodded eagerly and her smile widened.

“Good,” Linda said. “It’s my mom’s recipe. It’s cheap to make too. I can teach you.”

“I’d like that,” Tav replied. “Cheap is good…Especially since I might soon be out of a job…”

Linda dug into the stew herself.

“John told me you were late this morning,” Linda said. “For someone who can barely remember his own name, it’s impressive how gossip sticks to that man’s brain. If all else fails, you can work with the rest of us. God knows I could use help with the cleaning of this place.”

“Yeah I’ll…think about it,” Tav mumbled.

There was a moment of silence. Tav noticed a distant sound of some kind of ruckus coming from the main building, which made her ears perk up a bit.

“What is that?”

“Raha and Raphael,” Linda explained tiredly. “They fight like cat and dog constantly. Give it half an hour though and they will be making up loud enough for the whole estate to hear.”

Another vase flew past Raphael’s head and smashed against the wall. He gritted his teeth and looked at them.

“You give me the same lousy excuses for not going home every single day,” Raha hissed and picked up another vase. “’Soon Haarlep, have patience Haarlep, I don’t like it any more than you do,’” they said, mocking Raphael’s voice. “Which we both know is a lie! You are right where you belong, aren’t you, darling? We are really indulging in that human side of you.”

“Mind your tongue, Haarlep,” Raphael said in a low, dangerous tone. “Lest I cut it out.”

Raha threw another vase in response. This one almost hit him. Their aim was getting better every day.

“Why? Isn’t that what we’re doing? You are not even playing pretend at this point! You are fully like them. Driving cars, doing taxes, checking your phone, using hours on the fucking Face-thing!”

“Facebook,” Raphael corrected tiredly, having tried for months to convince Haarlep to blend in more by using the technology available in this realm.

Another vase flew by his head.

“What are we doing? Did you forget why we’re here? We were supposed to go home ages ago!” Raha hissed at him.

Raphael walked over to them. He was towering over the form of Raha that Haarlep had taken.

The real Raha had been dead for over a year now, strangled in the dead of night when she did not prove as malleable as Raphael had thought her to be, but not before Haarlep had taken her form.

“I do not need to explain myself to you,” Raphael growled at them. “A dog does not need to understand the motives of its master, it simply needs to obey his whims, or it will be deemed useless. Useless pets get put down, my dear.”

“Oh, you are fucking one to talk, dear,” they countered in a mocking tone. “That’s why we are running from daddy, isn’t it? So, he doesn’t steal back your new toy and put you down. And here we are: two useless strays running in circ—”

Raphael’s hand shot out to close around their throat. They narrowed their eyes at him and changed into their usual shape of Raphael’s cambion form. Now they were towering over him with a challenging look in their eyes.

A flash of fire surrounded Raphael as he changed into his cambion form too. He pulled them further into the room, away from the windows. Haarlep got a lot less cocky at that. Raphael turned them around and shoved them hard against a wall, face first.

There was a low growl in his chest with every breath he took. Haarlep knew that he was pissed. He leaned in until they could feel his breath against their ear.

“We are done here, when I say we are,” he growled into their ear. “If you want to return to Avernus, that won’t be a problem, Haarlep. Just say the word, and I will happily send you home,” he said in a mocking, lighter tone. “Who knows? Perhaps the demons of the Abyss might recognize you as kin and spare you when I drop you off at the front lines. Or perhaps they won’t…”

Haarlep huffed in defeat. Raphael let them go.

“You are not to use that form here,” he reminded them. “Do not let me see you in it again unless we are in private. I will not tell you again.”

Haarlep sneered and turned around to face him. They took a couple of deep breaths, gritted their teeth, and tried to control their temper.

“What form would you prefer tonight then, master?”

Raphael gave them a satisfied smirk at their change in tone. He transformed back into his human form. He sat down on a plush chair that was facing the bed.

“The new one,” he said and made a lazy gesture to the bed behind them. “She intrigues me. Let us see her.”

Haarlep crawled onto the bed. Their orange eyes turned light brown, and their sleek dark hair turned into Tav’s thick and unruly mop of brown hair. Once they had transformed, they stripped themself of their clothing and threw it on the floor beside the bed.

Raphael was watching their every move with dark, dilated eyes.

“How was she?” he asked.

“Surprisingly eager, even before she tasted me,” Haarlep purred back in Tav’s voice. “I didn’t get to fuck her, but she tasted delicious.”

Raphael gave a hum as he was feasting on their bare form. Haarlep smiled and teasingly spread their legs a little bit, earning them a low growl from him. He got up from his seat to look down at them. They looked from the very obvious bulge in his pants to his face with a smile.

“Spread them wider,” Raphael commanded.

Haarlep laid back and spread their legs fully for him, giving him a full view of her physique. Raphael looked at them with heavy-lidded eyes. A smile tugged on his lips as his attention was caught by her piercings.

“Quite a naughty girl, isn’t she? Our dear Tav,” he muttered.

His fingers brushed over one of her pierced nipples and slowly traced them down to the piercing she had through her clitoral hood. Haarlep made a show of uttering a breathy moan at his touch.

Raphael lowered his head between their legs. He dipped his tongue into her and slowly licked upwards until he reached her clit. He closed his mouth over it and swirled his tongue around the piercing there for a moment before moving back from her form.

“Mm,” he said in a deep hum of satisfaction. “Change back. Tempting as she is, let’s not risk scaring her away. I have plans for her.”

They had just finished eating. Her and Linda had been chitchatting when she suddenly felt a shiver out of nowhere. He nipples hardened and she felt herself grow wet. She squirmed a bit in her seat and cleared her throat. Linda noticed her odd demeanor.

“Something wrong?”

Tav quickly frowned and shook her head.

“No, no,” she said. “Go on. there was a breeze or…something.”

“It’s the ghosts,” Linda said completely serious. “This place is haunted, I’m telling you. Do you know that when I got here—”

Linda kept speaking but Tav was busy trying to ignore whatever the hell her body was doing. She physically jumped from her seat and gasped when she felt something move between her legs.

“I need to go, I think,” Tav said suddenly in a high-pitched voice and shot up from her seat. “Thank you for the dinner!”

Linda looked at her with a puzzled expression as she hurried out the door.

Tav practically ran to her own apartment, almost dropping her keys in her eagerness to be in private. She unlocked it with some difficulty. She leaned her back against the door when she got inside and took a deep breath. She stood still. The feeling, whatever it had been, seemed like it had passed.

This had been such a weird day.

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #bg3 raphael #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 fanfic

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babyboywilson · 1 day ago

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What do you think happened to House after Wilson’s death?

omg hi nonnie! this is my first house md ask and you’ve made my entire day with this ask. thank you so much. please send me all the asks like this i will love you forever <33

spoiler alert and angst alert for anyone who hasn’t seen the show and doesn’t know the ending.

this is such a great question because it has so much hilson ust packed into it. I really truly think that house wouldn’t hang on for long after wilson dies. they’re so attached at the hip and so codependent on each other. house has said before that if he loses wilson then he’s alone. and that says so much about their relationship- they can’t handle being apart. at the end it feels even more poignant than ever because house gave up his whole life and career to spend the last few months of wilson’s life with him.

wilson would beg house to live his life without him and keep moving forward. he’d be unable to peacefully live his last moments carrying that burden that house wouldn’t survive without him.

so house lies.

he tells wilson that he’ll be fine. that he plans to find some low-level medical job to do or he’ll play piano for the orchestra or he’ll work in a lab doing research. he can rent a condo and he’ll get another pet rat or something to keep him company.

wilson scrunches his eyebrows and calls him out. “you’re lying.”

house shakes his head. “whole world doesn’t revolve around you, wilson.” but they both know that’s the biggest lie that house has ever said. because house’s world does revolve around wilson - it always has and always will.

but wilson can tell that house is at least trying to make the lie sound convincing. “just try. please.”

house nods. he’ll try.

he lasts 5 days without wilson. he finds a lab that’s hiring and manages half a shift but it’s boring and nothing challenges him so he quits on the spot. he hates coming home to an empty apartment without wilson’s witty jabs and soft smiles. his leg aches, his heart aches, his entire body feels like dead-weight and he can’t do it he just can’t.

shaking the bottle of vicodin pills, house dumps all of them into his hand. “i tried for you, wilson. i really did.” house swallows all the pills in one and closes his eyes.

when he opens them again, wilson’s smile is right there and it lights up his vision. for the first time in awhile, house feels like he’s home.

#asked and answered #hilsonvignettes #house md spoilers #spoilers #house md #gregory house #james wilson #hilson #sorry i may have gone overboard with this #you sparked the thought in my head and then i just had to turn it into a mini drabble

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redkarasutengu · 1 day ago

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× | Hello everyone. This is the first time I've posted something here, so I don't know exactly how Tumblr works. But despite this, I decided to share with you my collection of headcanons on Vito. | ×

ATTENTION: My English is bad, so if some words are translated incorrectly, please take note. Thank you.

TW/CW: References to war, religion, sexual and physical violence.

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My collection of headcanons on Vito

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Headcanons based on canonical facts or close to the canon

► During his school years, Vito was fond of baseball and even belonged to a baseball club. He often stayed at school after school hours just to play baseball with his teammates. He participated in baseball games organized by the school where he studied. Although she doesn't play baseball as actively as an adult, Scaletta still doesn't mind watching baseball games and has warm feelings for this sport.

Reference: Vito's Room from Chapter 2, «Home Sweet Home»

► Vito most likely has PTSD, which he carefully suppresses. First of all, this is not even related to the war, but to the poor situation of the family. His obsession with "not repeating his father's mistakes" and "making money" may be one of his defensive reactions to repeated negative scenarios playing out in his head.

The arrest and the war also increased the symptoms, especially the second one.

The absence of a fatherly figure also shows his attitude towards Leo Galante, to whom he became attached. And after he found out that he was supposed to die, he didn't survive the stressful situation at all. When Vito learned that the old man would still be alive, he was not immediately happy — it was harder for him to experience negative events, even if he had gone through entire wars.

Reference: The 11th chapter of «Mafia 2»

► Scaletta probably doesn't feel safe at all. It's like you always have to be on your guard, and as soon as you relax, you'll lose everything you wanted, like what happened to the house. He also suffered this loss worse, although he knew that Joe, as his best friend, would help him with this loss. Yes, it's not so revealed in the game, but people with CTSD tend to hide their experiences because they feel guilty for certain injuries and have problems with irritability, anger management, and self-destructive behavior. The use of cigarettes and alcohol also counts. Repeated negative scenarios in his life also left their mark.

Reference: Chapter 11 of «Mafia 2»

► His attitude towards the flirting of the girls from the brothel is quite cautious. One of the options for such behavior is sexual/physical violence. The most interesting thing about this is that Joe doesn't seem to be aware of it and continues to make jokes about the trigger theme. Of course, Barbaro does not wish harm to his friend and you should not blame him for this — most likely Vito himself does not tell what is "inside" him.

It all starts after Vito is released from prison. Eddie and Joe want to go to a brothel with him. They're talking in the car about where they're going, and when Vito heard that they were going to a brothel, his reaction was pretty passive. The interesting thing is that at first he was thinking about something else altogether—a baseball game. Although Scaletta mentions that he would like a woman, he avoids close contact in his actions.

Let's go back to prison: the very moment when he is being bullied by one of the prisoners and his men. Presumably, this wasn't the last time someone tried to do something to him, and that he didn't always get away with it so "easily." Both sexual and physical violence is common in prisons, so unfortunately, the likelihood of a possible number of cases where Vito could have been sexually assaulted or almost raped during the 6 years he spent in prison is very high. Moreover, those men obviously treated him with mockery, harassing and violating the young man's personal space.

Such an experience can cause lasting trauma and even cause a person to stop being interested in sex, and even worse, to be afraid of it.

Reference: The 6th and 7th chapters of «Mafia 2»

► He likes to play billiards. In between missions, he doesn't mind playing a couple of times, to some extent it relaxes him.

Reference: One of the official artworks

► Although he hasn't gone to church for a long time and he goes because of his mother, he still seems religious. However, he treats faith more calmly — he rather accepts it as a tradition and nothing more.

Reference: Chapter 12 of «Mafia 2», Trailer «Christmas Confessions»

► He slept with a teddy bear until he was 18. Due to his high anxiety, Vito sleeps quite poorly, and if he falls asleep, then for a long time (more than 10 hours). He's had trouble sleeping since he was a child, and he's still having trouble sleeping, even though he's trying to deal with it. That's why I slept with a teddy bear in my arms to fall asleep faster. Even though he doesn't do that anymore, the reflex of hugging inanimate soft objects is still there, so he replaced the toys with a pillow.

Reference: Teddy bear in Vito's room from Chapter 2

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Headcanons that complement his personality

► Vito likes bitter coffee, even though he finds the taste disgusting. But it will cheer you up well after restless nights, so he often drinks in the morning.

► If he had lived in «our time,» he would probably have been wearing headphones all the time. His playlist would be something similar to TV Girl, Frank Sinatra, Queen, The Beatles, Lana Del Rey, The Neighborhood, Elvis Presley, Adele.

► In general, Scaletta loves music, especially from the 20th century. Relaxes, helps to distract from bad thoughts. And when driving in a car, it gives a special atmosphere at all, since it often independently selects the radio wave. He might even buy vinyl records and collect them.

► Vito likes dogs. Since childhood, he often fed them on the streets, but could not shelter them in any way due to financial problems. Although he tried to bring a street dog to his home once, his father and mother did not particularly appreciate this act.

► As a child, Scaletta loved stories about westerns and cowboys. He also had a love for farming and horses. Now he only rarely remembers his old hobbies, because the toy horse still reminds him of carefree, albeit difficult times.

► Ran away from home quite often at night because of Joe. But he doesn't mind or regret it — the night time is considered the most comfortable for him. They usually stole things from stores or lingered on the roofs of houses. On rare occasions, small hikes were arranged by lighting a bonfire. They often found abandoned buildings and searched for "paranormal phenomena," although Vito did not believe all this at all, and followed Joe just for the company.

► Very often shared different interests with Francesca. For example, they played with dolls together in early childhood, decorated various things, painted, read books and generally loved spending time together. She, in turn, helped him with his lessons, although sometimes it wasn't as successful as he would have liked.

► He tried to learn how to play the guitar. Once, he and Joe found some pretty interesting things in a dump in the city—a guitar, a bat, and furniture stuff. While Joe swung the bat, Vito examined the acoustic guitar and plucked the strings a couple of times. Sometimes he still thought about learning how to play a couple of songs.

► Even if he couldn't play musical instruments, Vito sings well. As a child, his mother often took him to church choirs and later learned to control his breathing. Occasionally, he hums a couple of favorite songs under his breath, perhaps even sang lullabies to Francesca so that she would not be afraid to sleep.

► He is a friend who would joke with "dad jokes". And in general, even in terms of humor, he is quite old-fashioned.

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× | That's all for now. I really hope that at least someone will like my headcanons. I really want to do it with Henry, Joe. Maybe with Tommy, Paulie, Sam... So I'll see if it makes sense or not. | ×

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#mafia 2 #Mafia 2 definitive edition #vito scaletta #headcanon #mafia trilogy #he is my roman empire

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urbaebarnes · 12 hours ago

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christmas eve

summary: all bucky needs to have a good christmas is you

bucky barnes x fem avenger reader

warnings: use of pet names (sugar, doll, etc), reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n

it isn't christmas and hasn't been in a hot minute there's literally no excuse for me to be writing this

word count: 2.0k words

I can’t get the image of Bucky and you on your first christmas out of my mind. Not even your first Christmas- your first Christmas Eve. Like, you hadn’t been together super long, maybe a few months max- at least that’s when Bucky managed to pluck up the courage to ask you. He’d been pining for at least a year, practically following you around, traipsing behind you with hearts in his eyes.

Anyway, the point is that Bucky’s been with a few people since he got back. NOne of them meant anything, and nothing ever happened by the time the sun came up the next day, but you were different. You were his, and all of a sudden, every single thing he'd told himself he’d never get, like a wife and kids, a big house in the countryside, it all became much more real. Hence why he’s taken it slow, holding your hand, sweet dates and even sweeter kisses.

It’s not as if he didn’t think about you in that way, because obviously he did, but he wanted this to last, he wanted your first time together to be memorable, perfect. The only time he’d been around you past midnight was when you both fell asleep on the couch, your head on his shoulder.

He’d scolded himself immensely for that, the fact that he couldn’t even stay awake just for a little while, just so he could see your pretty face on his shoulder, just so he could stroke his hands through your hair. But instead, he gently shook you awake, pressing a peck to your forehead and carrying you back to your room, tucking you in under the covers as you grumbled something in passing as he left.

He longed for the days he could lie down next to you, pull the blanket over your bodies, pull you close to him, call you his, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fell asleep. But for now, he took it slow, playing by his own, stupid rules.

But this was different. You’d been practically buzzing around the compound all day on Christmas Eve, you’d baked cookies in the shape of christmas trees and enforced watching Christmas movies for the entire team. It was your favorite holiday, he knew that, and so could everybody else as you stayed in your Christmas pyjamas all day, little red candy canes adorning your clothes along with the massive fluffy socks, one of which resembled a reindeer and the other a snowman.

The smile on your face was something he knew he would remember forever, and as he sat there and stared at you, head tilted as he tasted batter from the wooden spoon, moaning at the sweet taste. You’d grinned triumphantly at his display of affection, leaning over the counter to press a kiss to his lips.

Sam, per usual, was being an annoying shit about it- in Bucky’s opinion. Any time he’d see the two of you, he’d pluck some mistletoe from God knows where and dangle in between the two of you. Or, with the sole purpose of pissing the 100-something year old off, he’d tilt his head and pout as your soft displays of affection, “Oh, come on sugarplum, where’s my kiss?”

You’d giggle every time, handing him a teaspoon of cookie batter with a scrunch of your nose and the promise of ‘finding him a girl by valentines’. Bucky, however, couldn’t help but grind his teeth at the exchange.

You weren’t Sam’s sugarplum, you were his. His fairy, his sugar, his doll, his girl, his.

Sam would hold up his hands at Bucky’s lethal stare, seeing his eyes squint, “All in good fun, my friend.” He’d laugh after thanking you for your generous promise.

“You’re not my friend.” He’d say grumpily, standing from his seat and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to him, watching as Sam went to pull out the mistletoe.

He shook his head, smiling faintly at the two of you before making some excuse about helping hsi fish decorate its stocking, leaving the two of you in peace. You smiled, seeing his pouty lips and pressed yours to his, running your thumb across his lower lip as they curved upwards. “Tomorrow’s Christmas.” You grinned, kissing the curve of his shoulder. “I hope you like the gifty I got you.”

“You’re the only thing I could possibly want, doll.” He smiled, letting his thumb stroke over your cheek as you lent into his touch. “Just wanna wake up with you in my arms…” He trailed off, biting his lip as he realised the words that just slipped out.

He searched your face for any change, any hint of disgust. Sure, he’d wanted you close all the time, he was clingy and seemingly, you loved that, but maybe this was a step too far. You hadn’t spoken about sleeping together, in either sense, and part of him didn’t really believe you’d want to share a bed with a man who’d done so much wrong.

“You’d want that?” You questioned quietly, lips staying parted as you watched him carefully, almost pleading with him for an answer, but he wasn’t sure with one. Bucky swallowed thickly as he nodded, almost ashamed, although you couldn't quite work out why. “Okay then.” You nodded, “I do wake up early though, especially on Christmas-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He shook his head, licking over his lips as he pulled you closer to him. “You’d… you’d want that?”

“Obviously.” You could laugh, why wouldn’t you? He was perfect, and he wasn’t the only one who felt the need to be around the other 24/7. “Let me put the cookies in the oven real quick?” You said, tilting your head to press a kiss to his palm before you looked back to him, still frozen, just staring at you, lips curved and parted. “Bucky?”

He snapped back to reality quickly, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head and nodding, “Right, sure, just let me-” He shifted so he’d sit back down as you took the tray of uncooked cookies and placed them in the oven.

The rest of the day passed and Bucky couldn’t quite process what you’d agreed to, instead finding himself in a lovestruck daze. You on the other hand moved on with your day, only bringing it up after dinner.

“You wanna sleep in your room or mine?” You whispered to him as the rest chatted, the Christmas spirit seemingly making everybody beyond happy, even Tony who’s usual complaints and sarcasm was replaced with laughter.

He shook his head, shrugging. It was beyond himself how he hadn't thought of this before that moment. He’d spent hours and hours thinking about how he would hold you, how your face would look as he fell asleep on the pillow beside his, but the details, well, they were always a little blurry. “Wherever you want.”

“I’ll come to yours?” You suggested as he nodded, pecking the skin beside your eye. His nose scrunched as a smirk made its way onto his face, “What are you plotting?” You laughed, poking his nose with your forefinger, his ‘scheming face’ as you called it a dead giveaway.

“I’m not plotting anything pretty girl.” He teased, lips ghosting your ear as he lent close. “I was just thinking, since it’s such an early morning tomorrow, we should probably get to bed around now.”

You laughed as he kissed your earlobe before making his way across your face with a flurry of tiny kisses. “Bucky, Buck!” You squealed breathlessly, “It’s only eight o’clock, we can’t go to bed yet!”

He pulled away, cupping your face as he pouted, bottom lip popping out as he sulked, “But we’ve already watched all your favourite Christmas movies, and I’m sooo tired, please doll?” He watched as your eyes drifted over his shoulder and as he glanced, he found Sam and Steve in a small huddle around Sam’s phone, which he was using to record the entire interaction. “What are you doing?” He squinted, straightening his posture.

“We had to get evidence of this on camera.” Steve smirked, pointing between the two of you.

“Please doll, I'm so tired.” Sam mocked.

“Yeah pretty girl I-” Steve got cut off my Sam who had bent over laughing, causing Steve too to burst into laughter.

“Well now I’m tired and looking for an excuse to hide from them.” He huffed under his breath as you let your head rest on his body.

“Come on then.” You smiled, holding back your own giggle, “Suddenly, I’m just sooo tired too.” You pulled on his arm as he flipped the still recording camera off, letting you pull him away. “You go back to your room and I’ll just brush my teeth.” You said quietly, grin never leaving your face as you left him by the door of his room, disappearing into your own across the hallway.

Bucky had got changed into some seasonal pajamas you’d gifted him and by the time you knocked, he was sitting on the side of his bed, fiddling with the white sheets between his thumb and middle finger. “Can I come in?” You asked through the door and he smiled at your politeness, shaking his head as he got up to open the door for you.

“You could burst into my room and I’d thank you, sugar.” He grinned as he faced your figure, “My room’s your room.”

“Right back at you Barnes.” You smiled, stepping into his room as he made room for you, “So…”

He grinned at your slight awkwardness, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. “I’m so tired.” He fake yawned, pulling you closer and closer to the bed until your legs were pressed up against the bed frame, “Oh look, it’s a bed!” He fake gasped, picking you up and placing you on one side.

You squealed and giggled as he placed you down, pulling back the duvet so you could wriggle under before practically jumping around to his side. He hesitated before getting in, pausing, “Are you sure you’re okay with-”

You cut him off as you rolled your eyes, “If I don’t get to cuddle with my boyfriend in the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna punch someone.”

He laughed at that, finally laying down next to you as you shifted until your face was rested in his chest, grinning like an idiot. “So violent.” He smirked, trying to cover up the pink flush that graced his cheeks at you being so close, at the fact you wanted him this close.

You simply hummed, snuggling into him until your voice was muffled. “Bucky?”

He repeated your name back with a smile, pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“Thank you.”

He frowned deeply, eyebrows furrowing together, he should surely be the one thanking you for being here, for letting him hold you. “For what?”

You lifted your head a little, resting your chin on his torso, “For making this the best Christmas ever.”

“It hasn’t even struck midnight yet.” He laughed, “It’s a little preemptive don’t you think?”

You shook your head, “I have you, and you’ve already made this ten times better than last year.” Bucky had never thanked the room for being dark before, but now that his cheeks were bright red, he couldn’t help but thank whichever one of Thor’s friends or foes that controlled darkness.

His hands felt around for your hips, rolling you over onto your other side as his metal arm stayed under you, wrapping around you as he pulled you right into his chest, hsi other hand draping across your body, pulling you tight to him like a teddy bear. As you alternated between laughing and squealing, he kissed your shoulder, tightening his grip around you, “You can’t just say things like that and expect me to act normal about it. Needed you closer.” He practically whined.

“You’re lucky it’s Christmas.” You joked softly, letting your head nuzzle into his metal arm, getting comfy.

“I’m lucky all year round now I’ve got you.”

#bucky barnes fanfic #marvel #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfic #mcu #avenger reader #fem reader #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #christmas eve

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encrucijada · 1 year ago

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3 new possible additions to my aroace girls cinematic universe (that needs a better name) 🫶

#we have evergreen lung about feeling behind everyone else #speak prophecy about realising you don't need to force romance onto yourself #one about fae folk and compulsive heteronormativity #one about accidental marriage and the power fantasy of my friend would choose me before a romantic partner #and one about a slowly dwindling roommates situation #that last one i think happens In The House the entire time #i'm on the lookout for 2 more magic things to put in the last 2 ideas #pia.txt

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violetstrations · 1 year ago

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[ID: two digital paintings of Nijisanji-EN'S Ver Vermillion and Cer Cerulean. The first takes place inside a forest during the day. They are both noticeably young. Cer sits on the left side of a log as he adjusts Ver's long hair, who is sitting on the ground in front of Cer, holding his knees to his chest. The artist's watermark is to the left of them. The second takes place long after the first one. The sun is setting. Ver curls into himself on the right side of the log, with a knife by his left. On the other end of the log is his red necklace, glowing. Surrounding him are chopped-off locks of his hair. The artist's watermark is by the necklace. End ID]

bundle up darling, you've made this bed, now

sleep in it soundly if you can

#nijisanji #nijisanji en #ver vermillion #cer cerulean #vtuber #art #lyrics are from The Glacier House by the crane wives. trying to post this again since this didn't show up in the tags ! lmao !#I made an entire . Thing in the tags last time I posted this. I'll copypaste here:#things that have happened since I've last posted niji fanart: I got obsessed with Ver's lore #especially ESPECIALLY everything to do with Cer #like. okay I cannot get into everything I'm Deeply Unwell over but like #do you think about how Ver was 15 when he trapped Cer in the necklace #how Cer was his first friend. how they met when he was around 8 or 9 years old #how do you think Ver felt about defeating one of the first friends he ever had #does he feel guilty. guilt over not seeing the signs of Cer's malice earlier #guilt over trapping Cer in the necklace. guilt over being guilty in the first place #and how much of that is exacerbated by Cer haunting him ? how deeply does his clear resentment affect Ver ?#much to think about ....#nooty's art

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love-songs-for-emma · 6 months ago

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i was on zillow today, fantasizing about being able to live somewhere, when i came across the listing for my childhood home. it wasn't active/being sold, but it was on there with some pics of the interior. and my GOD. THEY MADE HER UGLY. THEY TOOK HER RUSTIC PUSSY OUT. WHAT THE FUCK

#i'd share pics if it didn't dox me a little #but it's SO SAD #PLS #i needed to see her... curiosity got me. i dream of this house genuinely nearly every night #but like. oh my god.#this is probably for the best bc it means i cant romanticize about buying this home again one day and expecting it to look at all like #it did #but they literally took down to bare bones and reshaped her and ohh my god #babes there was so much gorgeous wood work in that house #there was an accent exposed brick wall in the living room #the open layout was still closed off Enough to feel like separate rooms. but they opened it even more #AND THEY TOOK AWAY THE BARSTOOL/COUNTER AREA ?? IM SO CONFUSED #WHY WOULD U DO THAT #YOU COULD SIT AT THIS GORGEOUS BLACK GRANITE COUNTER AND EAT SITTING IN THE LIVING AREA AS SOMEONE YOU LOVE SERVED YOU A MEAL DIRECTLY FROM #THE KITCHEN #i'm not genuinely bent out of shape about this btw. i just had to share this somewhere sldkjfdskl #people will buy YOUR childhood home and make it ''''MODERN.'''' it will happen one day to YOU #they will paint the walls GRAY & take the pussy out of her TOO (the walls were warm deep yellows/oranges/reds. bedrooms were lighter blues)#THEY TOOK AWAY THE WARM COLORED TILES OF THE LIVING AREA AND REPLACED IT WITH UGLY WOOD FLOORING ???#THEY REMOVED THE MOLDINGS ENTIRELY ??#NO MORE WINDOW LEDGES ??????#WHAT WAS HAPPENING HERE #praying that these were In Progress pics and somebody has returned love to this home since bc. my god #again vague for my own safety but i moved out within the last decade and the home was resold in the last 5 or so years and thats when these #pics r from i think. so they've had time to fix her since #and boy was she a fixer upper after the horrors that happened inside those walls </3 ASLKDFJSAK #i should literally just write about this and instead i'm posting on tumblr #yeah that's life. that's being a tumblrina writer.#personal #.txt

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kurthorton-moving · 2 years ago

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feeling very 🧍‍♂️ may not be around for a bit

#its nothing tumblr related really its more just irl #a mix of being tired and having deadlines and not being able to make myself work #and the. kinda harsh switch in vibe in the house from last nights everyone hanging out having fun #to todays me alone cleaning up after everyone and knowing that the others are content doing their own thing and don't wanna hang w me #which like!! is fine im not expecting to be the center of their world its just.#idk we used to hang out every night watching a movie or some tv and laughing #and ever since i got back from my trip we just. we spend time together maybe once every 3 or 4 weeks and it takes me asking if they wanna #hang out like 3000 times before it ever happens and when it does there's just. theres a disconnect #and I think they just realized during the two months i was away that theyre. maybe a bit happier without me #or at least they find it easier to not hang out #like theyve got jobs now so obviously they dont have time the way they used to but its not just that theres been a Shift #i think they also might. kinda resent me for the trip and having that opportunity #which sucks bc i cant. do anything ab that i had no say in the trip i didnt want to go #and even saying that makes me very. like that feels like such a selfish arrogant thing to say to want to turn down a trip across the world #but everyone who was here during that trip knows that i spent the entire time dissociating and getting yelled at and suicidal so uh #i dont think its selfish to not have wanted to go when i Knew it'd end like that but i think they might think it was #ANYWAY this got depressing and sad i dont mean to bring shit here its just i literally only have 3 friends and 2 of them r these ones #and the other is so emotionally unavailable and doesnt really take mental health seriously so #ooc.#negative cw

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coloursofaparadox · 2 years ago

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i ✨️cannot sleep✨️ and vaguing about shit on the internet feels more cathartic than writing it out somewhere else. suffer.

#im having. thoughts. on one hand. VERY badly want woods and chicken farm.#on the other hand. i do actually like friends?#and the likelihood of making friends as a queer person in a small town is uh. yknow. not as good.#but idk if its important enough to me to put my life on hold indefinitely to create more ties to an area that ill eventually have to leave #if i ever want a chance at supporting myself financially or buying a tiny lil starter house?#ideal situation is i start a gay commune with like minded friends. but uh. people have not been good to me #on the whole 'trust em with your plans' front #sigh. idk. id love to be able to afford a place thats still in the general area but that is never going to happen #unless i can spontaneously manifest /literally/ a million dollars #i am done with romantic relationships i think. if one happens at some point? cool. but i am not basing my life plans around it.#and will not sacrifice my own peace and wellbeing just for the sake of one #god. looking for queer friends who want to live on a farm with me platnically and we all have our own space but #also raise animals together and hang out sometimes. and dogs are a requirement.#i just! want! queer commune! where i can go back to my own little bubble and have my own space too!#aaaaahhhhh!!!! albertas real estate is starting to look real good right about now!#ugh. u g h. i fluctuate wildly between 'im very VERY content not speaking to a human for a week at a time' and 'platonic life partner. pls.#maybe i just....take a page out of 18 yr old me's ballsy ass handbook. and uproot my entire life to move somewhere completely new #where i know no one have no connections and in a completely different climate 😎 it worked out last time #i could so just fuck off somewhere. oh my god it is so tempting.

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kashverse · 1 day ago

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Do you think you could write about Sukuna x reader before baby kuna and there live before reader even gettin pregnant I really love your work 💗💗💗✨✨✨✨

some corporate boss mamakuna x employee sukuna lore! this is how they first met :)

back before babykuna, before the house full of labubus, cats, and stolen hoodies, there was corporate sukuna. and corporate sukuna? he was supposed to be a goddamn nightmare. you had heard horror stories.

"he’s impossible to work with."

"he made the last manager cry."

"he once told HR to 'suck his entire d—'"

okay, so maybe that last one was a little concerning. but you were young, fresh into a leadership role, and ready to face whatever demon of a man this company had somehow not yet fired. so naturally, when you finally met him, arms crossed, scowl carved into his face like a roman statue, you prepared for the worst.

"ryomen sukuna, right?" you greeted, professional, poised, the picture of authority. his eyes flicked up to you, and you swear, for half a second, there was a spark of mischief, a flicker of something dangerous. but then, to your absolute shock, sukuna—the devil himself, the menace of the office, the man who had apparently made three secretaries quit in a single week—was nice. or, well, nice enough.

he nodded, grumbled out a respectful “yeah,” and got to work. no backtalk, no glaring, no slamming of desks or throwing office supplies at interns. just grumpy efficiency. you smiled. bright. cheerful. unshaken.

“great! looking forward to working with you.”

then, the moment you turned your back? he was a goddamn menace. “oi, dipshit,” sukuna barked across the office, and some poor intern visibly flinched. “why the fuck is my report missing page five?”

“um—”

“no, don’t ‘um’ me. are you illiterate? do you need me to read the assignment out loud for you like you’re in fuckin' kindergarten?”

“no, sir, i just—”

“fix it.”

when you turned back around, brows raised? sukuna was already back to his task, perfectly behaved, like an honor student trying not to get caught. you frowned, a little suspicious. he blinked at you. innocent. wide-eyed. docile.

…okay, maybe the HR rumors were exaggerated. maybe he was just misunderstood. but then you turned away again, and—

“hey, you, yeah, you—who the fuck made this spreadsheet? a blind goat?!”

this cycle repeated daily. whenever you were around, sukuna was just a grumpy but functional employee. he answered your questions, finished his work on time, and—god forbid—was even kind of charming when he wasn’t glaring at people. but the moment you left the room? utter carnage.

by week two, everyone in the office knew.

one particularly brave soul even tried to test it. “hey, sukuna,” some junior exec chirped while you were grabbing coffee, “think you could help me review this client file?” sukuna barely spared them a glance. “sure.”

but then you left to take a phone call.

“are you incapable of using your own goddamn brain, or is it just decorative?”

you walked back in. “everything okay?”

sukuna, completely blank-faced: “yeah.”

everyone was traumatized. you? completely clueless. until one day, you walked into the office a little earlier than usual and caught him—midway through roasting some poor IT guy’s entire existence. you cleared your throat. sukuna froze.

then, he straightened his tie, rolled his shoulders back, and—without missing a beat—“ah, boss. g'morning.” like nothing happened.

you blinked. he blinked back.

…this motherfucker.

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 5 months ago

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wait, Derin how did your leaving make the hospital shut down?

I used to work as a live-in nanny for a pediatrician.

Now, the thing about hospitals in my country is that they are massively understaffed and massively underfunded. This is especially true outside the major cities. The staff are worked to the bone and receive little to no help in things like finding accommodation or childcare, making working in rural areas a very uninviting prospect; staff come out here, get lumped with the work of three people (because there's nobody else to do it), burn out under the workload and leave, meaning that those remaining have even more work because that person is gone. It's unsustainable and the medical staff are doing their best to sustain it, because people die if they don't, so to the higher-ups it looks like everything's getting done and therefore everything is fine.

My friend (and boss) worked one week on, one week off, swapping out with another pediatrician. This was necessary because it would not be physically possible for one person to handle the workload for longer periods of time. The one single pediatrician had to hold up the entire pediatrics ward, which was not only the only public hospital pediatrics ward in our town, but also the one that served all the towns around us for a few hours' drive in all directions. I regularly saw her go to work sick, aching, tired, or with a debilitating 'I can barely make words or see' level migraine, because if she took a day off, twenty children didn't get healthcare that day, and some of these kids' appointments were scheduled weeks in advance. She'd work long hours in the day and then be called in a couple of times overnight for an hour or two at a time (she was on-call at night too, because somebody had to be), and then go in the next day. Sometimes she would be forced to take a day off because she physically could not stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, meaning she couldn't drive to work.

Cue my niece's second birthday coming up in Melbourne. I'd been working for her for about 3 years, and she (and the hospital) had plenty of advance warning that I (and therefore she) needed one (1) Friday off. That's fine, we'll find someone to work that Friday, the hospital said. Right up until the last week where they're like "oh, we can't find a replacement; you can come in, can't you?"

No, she tells them; I don't have anyone to watch my kid that day.

Oh, surely you can hire a babysitter for this one day, they say. Think of the children! We really really need you to work that day. I know we said it'd be fine but we need you now, there's no one else to do it.

There are no other babysitters, she told them. Unless you can find one?

That's not our responsibility, they said.

But I'm not changing my plans, she's got plans by now as well, the hospital knew about this one day weeks in advance, and with absolutely no reserve staff they're forced to reschedule all pediatrics appointments for that Friday. Not a huge deal, it happens on the 'physically too overworked to get out of bed' days too. I go to Melbourne, she goes back to her home in Adelaide for her recovery week, all should be on track.

My niece gives me Covid.

This was way back in the first wave of the pandemic, and there were no Covid vaccines yet. The rules were isolate, mask up, hope. I had Covid in the house, and it would've been madness for my friend and her toddler to come back into the Covid house instead of staying in Adelaide. There was absolutely no way that a pediatrician could live with someone in quarantine due to Covid and go to work in the hospital with sick children every day. And no support existed for finding another babysitter, or temporary accommodation, so the hospital was down a pediatrician.

The other pediatrician wasn't available to do a three-week stint. They were also trapped in Adelaide on their well-earned week off.

Meaning that the only major pediatrics ward within a several-hour radius had no pediatricians. They had to shut down and send all urgent cases to Adelaide for the week. To the complete absence of surprise of any of the doctors or nurses; of course this would happen, this was bound to happen, it presumably keeps happening. But probably to the surprise of the higher-ups. After all, the hospital was doing fine, right? Of course all the staff were complaining of overwork and a lack of resources in every meeting, but they could always be fobbed off with the promise of more help sometime in the future; the work was mostly getting done, so the issue couldn't be too urgent.

It's not like some nanny who doesn't even work for the hospital could go out of town for a weekend for the first time in three years, and get the only public pediatrics ward in the area shut down for a week.

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annmariethrush · 2 months ago

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I love the concept that Viktor ends up with Jayce’s last name through some originally non-romantic means so much that I have multiple versions.

Jayce accidentally gives Viktor his last name by being so insistent on putting Viktor’s name first in every circumstance. When he’s listing their names on anything he puts them down as “Viktor and Jayce Talis”. When he introduces them to people he says “Nice to meet you, this is Viktor and I’m Jayce Talis” with a pause before Talis because he always forgets that he should say his house name too. Viktor slowly starts to notice that they’re referred to in the tabloids as “the Talises” and that higher ups at the academy will introduce him to investors as “Viktor Talis” without Jayce even being there.

When they first start working together, they put their initials next to things in their shared notes to mark when they have questions or agree with something the other wrote, or to differentiate when someone is dictating while the other talks. In an effort to not have it confused with a variable, Viktor initials VT (VikTor) as a bit of a joke to look similar to Jayce’s JT. However, one day when Heimerdinger is looking over their notes, he marks out a question in the margin for Viktor with “Viktor Talis” written out next to it in full. Viktor and Jayce debate for a moment after he leaves if it was supposed to mean it was for both of them, but the contents of the question makes it entirely clear that Heimerdinger things VT stands for Viktor Talis and has accepted that Viktor has adopted Jayce’s last name with no questions.

At the beginning of Hextech, as they are trying to get investors, Viktor regularly gets identified as being from the undercity and harassed for it by wealthy Pilties when he tells them his name is “just Viktor” when asked what house he is from. So one day Jayce suggests just telling investors that his last name is also Talis, thinking that people will assume they are brothers. Viktor gets flustered and tries to politely decline, but Jayce seems to confident that he lets it happen. It takes him weeks to figure out that Jayce doesn’t realize that everyone thinks they’ve gotten married or plan to. Viktor doesn’t have the heart to tell him and won’t let Mel break the illusion.

Jayce takes Viktor on a tour of the forge and when he gets done takes a hammer to jokingly knight him and dub him “officially part of house Talis” Jayce thinks nothing of it until the next time they meet someone new together when he almost spits out his drink hearing Viktor introduce himself as “Viktor Talis”

Some investor that they fucking hate can’t keep their names straight for some reason but always sees Jayce wearing his house sigil so he says “ah, Viktor Talis” every time he sees Jayce. They find it so fucking funny that even just saying “Viktor Talis” sends them into uncontrollable laughter.

Ximena refers to them exclusively as “my boys” to the point that most people who met her after Hextech was founded assume that she has two sons, Jayce Talis and Viktor Talis. She doesn’t feel the need to correct them as she does truly love them both as her children and is also quietly hoping one day Jayce will get his head out of his ass and ask Viktor out on a date.

#jayvik headcanons #Jayce talis #viktor talis #jayvik #viktor #viktor league of legends #arcane #viktor arcane #jayce x viktor #jayvik hc #Meg mumbles

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ceilidho · 7 months ago

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sundog

prompt: Simon comes across a girl when she's recently been evicted and takes her back to his place, despite her reservations (nsfw, 8.5k) [based on this old post] [on ao3 here]

The circumstances of your life change so abruptly that you lose sight of it for a moment.

Then, you’re out on the streets with the clothes on your back and a suitcase packed so full that a sweater sleeve sticks out where the zippers meet. The locks to your apartment have already been changed. You know because you tried them anyway, desperately hoping that the eviction notice taped to your door might have been misplaced.

Evidently not. The keys don’t work. You contemplate chucking them on the walk out, but instead you keep them close like a talisman of protection, though it’s failed to live up to its purpose so far.

You’ve got it under control for a day. If by ‘under control’, you mean experiencing a full body panic attack in the locker room of the twenty-four hour gym down the street from your old apartment. The staff gives you uncomfortable looks when you come in on the verge of tears with your suitcase rolling behind you, but they let you in because your membership is up to date. If you can count on anything in life, it’s consumerism.

That doesn’t last long though, mainly because a locker and a wood bench won’t cut it in the long term. You sleep in the back of the local library until a stern-faced, if pitying, librarian threatens to call the cops on you. Pity isn’t sympathy, evidently.

Gym management threatens to cut the lock on the locker you’ve been using as temporary storage space. Matter of fact, they say, you can’t be using the locker room as your quasi apartment between the hours of nine P.M. and seven A.M. just because everything else in the city is closed. Go home, they say.

What home, you don’t say, before packing up your things and heading out on your way.

If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s capitalism.

You didn’t think this kind of thing could happen to someone like you. Someone like you being an ordinary person. Homelessness always felt like a far away concept. But the world is cruel and life is brutal. What you didn’t realize before was that, at any moment in time, you’ve been closer to poverty than wealth, and here you are now, sitting in the park with your suitcase between your legs, the sun rapidly setting behind you, your phone at ten percent battery, and nowhere to go because your family is, frankly, nonexistent, and your friends, for lack of a better word, have almost entirely washed their hands of you.

Sorry, they’d say, the frown emoji expressing something like pity at a distance. We don’t have a couch to spare.

I can sleep on the floor, you’d texted back. They’d gotten cagey after that. People like to be wanted only to a certain extent.

You can feel the panic rise up in you, too big to contain. It comes out in the form of blubbering tears and snot running from your nose. Big, hiccuping sobs. It’s not pretty. Passersby avert their eyes for the most part, save for the ones that eye you with something bordering on perverse delight and that’s what finally makes you get up and speed walk away, lest they feel compelled to approach you.

But even in the tailwinds of summer, it gets cold outside at night. Worst of all, as the evening grows dark, the streets empty out until you can’t help but feel like a beacon with your little rolling suitcase. It clatters against the sidewalk as you try to hoof it down the street, looking for any shop still open to loiter in. Most close after nine though. You’ve googled homeless shelters, but the sheer anxiety keeps you floundering around up and down the streets instead.

It feels beyond helpless. You’re in a state like you’ve never been before, crying under a streetlamp because you needed a moment just to get your bearings.

What you know now is that this world is a house of false bottoms. You thought the circumstances of your life could never change. You were never well to do, but you were doing well. The sight of the unhoused sitting with their backs to the brick and mortar stores on your walk home or congregated in a park in the middle of the city with their tents and shopping carts used to fill you with immeasurable pity, maybe even a quiet moment’s reflection; now, you see them as kin.

Easy, isn’t it? To slip between states. To go from solid to liquid to gaseous. Easier than you ever could have expected.

When it starts to rain, you almost close your eyes in relief. Anyone could’ve predicted this.

You almost don’t respond to him at first, keeping your eyes trained on the sidewalk to avoid any bumps. Also, it never pays to look up at a man barking at you, especially not when he’s barking something like, Girl or Bird, turn around.

Then he says it again, closer this time, and you’re forced to look up, if only to see who’s approaching you. Your suspicion melts away to distrust at the sight of the man stalking towards you. Distrust with a touch of trepidation—maybe outright alarm. Surely no man his size wearing a balaclava tucked into a hoodie straining around his arms would have innocent designs on you.

He’s one of the bigger men you’ve ever come across. You look across the street to see if there’s a bar missing its bouncer, but all the shop fronts are dark like the ones on your side.

You don’t bolt at the sight of him, but it’s a near thing. He appears from nowhere, and yet there’s nowhere for him to hide. Not with the size and breadth of him damn near taking up the whole sidewalk. His demeanour and stride evoke such a sense of authority that at first you mistake him for a plainclothes man, and wouldn’t that be just the icing on the shit cake of a week you’ve been experiencing. But something about him says otherwise.

“Plan on catchin’ your death out here?” he asks, and you shiver. Not from the cold, but from the sound of his voice.

You’re not used to talking to strangers. A month ago, you would’ve ignored the man lambasting you for being out in the rain; maybe crossed the street and hailed a cab instead. You don’t have those kinds of options anymore. The only thing left in your repertoire is to shout back.

“I’ve got mace!” you yell out, your voice a hoarse rattle carved out from hours spent crying.

“That’ll do ya fuck all out here,” he says, a touch condescendingly. “You lost or somethin’?”

“I’m not lost,” you sniff, rubbing the snot away from your nose with the end of your sleeve.

“Then get home instead of roamin’ the streets. You’re askin’ to get snatched up, bird.”

The threat of that has been lingering in your head these past few days, even stretching back to the very first moment that you noticed the sign on your door, but now it has its intended effect. You shake.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“Bloody hell,” he sighs. “Why the fuck not? Need someone to call you a cab?”

“I got evicted. I don’t have a home,” you say, and sniffle when your nose leaks again. Saying it outloud brings tears to your eyes again, a pressure building behind your orbital sockets and down to the tip of your nose.

You must look like the saddest thing in the world standing there in the rain under the dim light of the streetlamp, the pole looped with graffiti and old gum. When the man berating you for being out in it takes a step forward, coming into the light, you can finally make out the bored depths of his eyes. A deep brown. Entirely unimpressed with the picture in front of him, maybe even a bit peeved.

Your socks are wet and your shoes squelch when you take a step back. You pull the sheer sweater tighter around your frame, but it does nothing to protect you from the damp, frigid air.

“You been out here long?” he asks, taking another step closer. Not tentatively either. His gaze sweeps over you proprietarily, taking stock; his arrogance comes as an afterthought. He’s not rubbing it in your face that he can do whatever he likes—he just does.

You wheel your suitcase around in front of you to put something between the two of you. “…Just today. The gym kicked me out.”

You sound petulant, words chewed between your lips and teeth; begrudgingly admitting to the various pitfalls of your existence. All the bad luck. It’s shameful to admit to losing complete control of your life.

“Haven’t ya got any family, girl? Friends? What’re they letting a girl like you stay out on the streets for?”

You could be sick on the pavement. “…That’s none of your business.”

His eyes go flat at that, unimpressed. “You always this nasty to people tryin’ to help?”

And you’re not. That’s the part that grates the most. You’re all soft underbelly; no bark, no bite. It’s inconceivable that this could’ve happened to you—inconceivable because your head is filled with false promises and mythologies. The myth of exceptionalism. This happens to other people. Not good girls that go to college and get their degrees and find a stable job.

They’ve pulled the rug out from under you so fast that you haven’t even toppled over yet. That’s how quick it all happened.

“What help are you?” The bite comes out of nowhere, fueled by bitter humiliation and resentment for the predicament you’ve found yourself in. “Are you gonna put me up in a hotel?”

“Think I’m made of money, bird?” he asks rhetorically.

“You’ve probably got more than I have.”

Now you’re weepy again at the thought. Down to your last hundred dollars and you’re in between jobs at the moment. It might’ve been easier to haul yourself out of poverty if applying for jobs didn’t require a mailing address. That’ll be your first priority once you find a place to live. But conversely, how are you meant to find housing with no proof of income? Landlords laugh in your face before slamming the door shut. The conversations are circular, but they always come to a grinding halt; that’s the only thing you’ve learned to expect.

The worst part of this whole conversation is that it doesn’t follow any of the scripts you’ve previously memorized. When have you ever had to deal with a man interrogating you about your place of residence? It makes no sense.

It’s inconceivable to imagine that this is happening to you, but it is. Life comes at you hard, with a razor’s edge. Sharp enough to cut, to lacerate.

“You need a place to stay,” he states bluntly.

“It’s fine. I’ll—I’ll find something.”

“You could come home with me.” He says it so bluntly that for a moment all you can do is blink. Surely you misheard him. Surely a man of his size and breadth, dark mask obscuring his face, wouldn’t be daft enough to ask a woman he found on the street to come home with him.

The offer, as well-intentioned as you hope it is, puts you on edge. “No, that’s…that’s alright. I don’t want to…put you out. I was going to look up nearby shelters.”

“Shelters’ll all be full this time of night,” he says. “Never been on the streets?”

You clenched your teeth, nerves starting to get the better of you.

“I can go to a church,” you say, voice terse now, frayed with nerves.

He snorts. “Haven’t been to one in a long time, but pretty sure those close too, pet. It’s late.”

You sway on your feet, the suitcase at your side the only thing keeping your knees from buckling. Dead ends everywhere you turn. You’ve always thought of yourself as resourceful; that if push came to shove, you’d figure your way out of any sticky situation. That smacks of arrogance now. All your suppositions are dissolving right in front of you, your own self-image along with it.

A heavy foot stepping into a puddle brings you back to focus. The masked man is closer now, within arm’s reach. Your heart jumps into your throat. He towers over you, monolith man; big as a sequoia, or other deadland creatures that vanish out of sight when you catch a shadow out of the corner of your eye and whirl around to look it dead on.

“I can’t go home with a stranger.”

You know you’re not supposed to put your faith in strange men. Bad things happen to girls that go around trusting any man that offers up their help.

The fist in your chest loosens infinitesimally when the man reaches up to pull the mask off his head. He’s every inch the brute you imagined in your head—blunt chin and crooked nose, a nasty scar running up his lip. There are scars all over his face, in fact—bisecting his left eyebrow and down his cheek. The blond hair on his head is slightly grown out, like he’s used to keeping it neat and tight but it’s been awhile since his head has seen a razor. His beard grows in a bit patchy, the burnish gold of a five o’clock shadow.

You frown. “Is that supposed to make me trust you?”

“Well, now we’re not strangers, are we?”

“That doesn’t—that doesn’t change anything! I still don’t know you.”

He shrugs. Takes a step back. “Suit yourself then. No skin off my ass.”

Your stomach roils, anxiety coming back with a vengeance. You hadn’t noticed it recede since the man started talking to you, but you notice its return. When he makes a move to turn back around, you lurch forward, your hand extending out and fisting in the side of his shirt. He pauses, then looks down at you.

“…Where else am I supposed to go?” you whisper.

He tilts his head. “Could sleep on a bench in the park.”

You glare at him through tear-soaked eyes. “That’s not funny.”

“Wasn’t meant to be. You’re shit out of other options at this time of night.”

“So, what? Now it’s-it’s my fault or something?”

His eyes don’t exactly soften, but they lose their hard edge.

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says. Not cautioning you, just stating a fact. “You coming or not?”

Disaster seems like a given at this point. At least you could pick your poison.

Words are beyond you though, so you just bite your lip and nod, eyes downcast now.

What else is there for you to do but follow him after that? You trail along after him like a sad, wet cat left out in the rain.

He finds her wandering the streets with her pretty little suitcase rolling over every bump and crack in the sidewalk and there’s no fighting the urge to drag her home.

She doesn’t look like a runaway. Just a poor thing down on her luck. Her cheeks practically glisten with her tears when she looks up at him with her big, pathetic eyes, and it makes his cock plump up against his thigh.

That’s not what this is about though. Simon presses his hand against his dick to rub out some of the ache while she flutters around the bedroom and reminds himself of that again. He didn’t take her home to maul her like a dog. He dragged her back to his flat because she looked wounded and scared out of her wits.

He can be good every now and then.

“Sit down, will ya?” he grunts, tugging her down onto the couch when she flits across the room to grab more of her shit out of her suitcase, glancing down at him apprehensively on her way by. She yelps when he sends her sprawling onto the couch.

His flat isn’t much. A one-bedroom above a laundromat; eggshell walls and torn up baseboards because he hasn’t gotten around to fixing the place up. It’s better than sleeping on the streets though, he knows that much.

Simon’s no stranger to that; if being in the military taught him anything, it was how to survive regardless of circumstances. In the weeks after his medical discharge—his knees beyond busted, basically bone on bone, and even these days, though he works more to have something to do than to earn a living, they still scream at him when he puts too much weight on them—he wandered aimlessly for a bit, crashing on Gaz’s couch for a bit and sleeping on benches for a spell after that before finding his footing again.

Simon ignores the way that she yaps at him though, used to tuning people out. He flicks on the television and flips to a show that looks vaguely entertaining before getting up and ambling over to the kitchen.

“D-do you want me to help?” she asks from the kitchen, tripping over her words in her haste to get them out.

She reeks of the need to please. Desperate; cloying, sickly sweet like flowering dracaena. It clings to her like a perfume, silk-wrapped and packaged just for him. It could give a man like him indecent thoughts. His thoughts already tend towards the impure.

He must eye her like a ravenous animal because she flinches suddenly under his gaze, eyes flicking away nervously before meeting his again. Good girl, Simon wants to say. Eyes on me.

“Sit down,” he barks instead, and relishes in the way she sits back down with her hands tucked under her thighs.

She’s really a pretty little thing. A shame that he found her out wandering in the rain, out where any man with worse intentions could have stumbled across her. The thought alone could drive him to violence. Again he stares at the back of her head and the slope of her shoulders, evaluating. His bloodlust dulls to a simmer. It pounds in his ears like a dull drum, but at least now he can hear again.

Anyone else could have found her first, but they didn’t. He did. That tempers the homicidal impulse thrumming in his blood. She’s in his flat now, freshly showered and skin still damp. When she looks over her shoulder, it’s him she sees.

Poor bird with her clipped wings. She’s not in danger of flying off anytime soon. The thought placates him. Tucked away in his cage, he doesn’t have to rend anyone limb from limb.

It’s been years since he traded in his fatigues for a hi vis jumpsuit, but some days he misses it so acutely that his hands shake and his vision fades in and out. This is one of those days. He toys with the idea of reaching out to Price in the morning to learn more about her, but then discards the idea. Better if it comes straight from her.

Besides, he doesn’t like asking for favours anyway.

“Name’s Simon, by the way,” he grunts, nostrils flaring when he sees her flinch at the sound of his voice. “Riley.”

“Oh,” is all she says. He waits a beat.

“Gonna give me your name, bird?”

She does, voice squeaky like it’s said under duress. That pisses him off more.

He's not much of a cook, but he can whip up something quick, so he tosses one of his frozen meals into the microwave and sits her in front of the TV while she shivers and shakes on the couch.

They eat in silence, the TV on in the background. It’s the only noise besides the soft sound of her chewing. Simon can tell she’s gone hungry in recent days by the voracious way she eats, unable to keep herself from shovelling the food into her mouth. She seems almost embarrassed by it after swallowing her last bite, looking over at him from the corner of her eye like a guilty dog. He ignores it, keeping his eyes on the TV instead.

He can tell she wants to say something. A shit childhood and two decades in the military have left him with the ability to sniff out tension, and it comes off her in waves. After putting her plate on the coffee table, she sits back against the couch and squeezes her fists over her lap. Gnaws her lip and casts furtive glances in his direction. When the tears build up on her waterline, his cock twitches.

“What?” he barks after the umpteenth sniffle, twisting to face her.

“I—um—I just wanted to say thank you,” she whispers, her head still tilted downward, trying to make herself small enough to go unnoticed.

Simon stares down at her, unblinking. He half wishes she’d cry a little more, just a few tears to soothe the beast in his chest. It’s better for her that her eyes remain dry. He doesn’t think he could hold himself back if one slipped down her cheek right now. He’d have to grab her by the nape of her neck and twist her over the side of the couch, shove down both their drawers and feed his cock into the warm, wet slot between her legs. Pummel her little cunt until his spend leaks out in thick, viscous globs, until her thighs shake so violently that only his hands on her shoulders and his shaft shoved deep in her pussy keeps her upright.

He can almost smell it from between her legs, throbbing with gratefulness. He stares down unabashedly at the spot between her legs. Let her say something about it.

“Don’t mention it,” he says instead, tilting his head when her tongue peeks out to wet her lips. “‘Was nothing.”

“No, it was really nice of you,” she insists, speaking more forcefully after gathering up some of her courage. “What if I…—you took a stranger into your house.”

That gets the blood pumping. “Gonna gut me while I sleep, pet?”

It’s half deranged that his cock chubs up in his jeans at the thought of his little bird with a knife in her hands, hands dripping with wet, dark blood. He shifts, readjusting himself so the metal teeth of his zipper don’t bite into his dick.

She frowns. Endearing. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Not really good at looking after yourself, are you?”

“I am—it’s just…” tears build up on her waterline again, “it was one thing after another. I couldn’t get it all together.”

Pity isn’t an emotion he’s accustomed to feeling. Simon’s not even sure if that’s what he’s feeling now. It’s more like the bastard child of pity.

He lets her off to bed with a warning not to fuck with anything in his room. She skitters off quickly after that. Her cute little ass follows her into the room until she shuts the door behind her, hiding it from view. He huffs. Being good never gets him anywhere.

He lets her run away though because he can’t tarnish everything he touches. Some things deserve to stay polished.

Instead, he brushes his teeth and washes the last of the dishes before turning in as well, getting a clean sheet out of the linen closet to drape over himself. The couch isn’t nearly long enough for him to stretch out on, not like the king sized bed in his room; there’s already a spring poking him right in the middle of his back.

Sleep won’t come easy tonight.

Simon wakes up on the couch with a kink in his neck. He lays there for several minutes gritting his teeth until the worst of it passes. When he sits up, his back cracks and pops, joints loosening only reluctantly. His age is getting away from him again; the wear and tear on his body finally starting to catch up. There’s only so much abuse he can put himself through.

The morning races on outside his front door and he has work to get to, but his body orients towards the closed door of his bedroom almost without his say. It creaks as it swings open.

In the slowly dimming haze of sleep, he must have subconsciously thought he dreamt the night before because seeing the girl from yesterday curled up in his bed halts him in his tracks. Her suitcase is open on the floor beside the bed. She must have changed into her pyjamas after slinking away last night because he doesn’t recognize the little cotton shorts hugging the swell of her ass and the shirt riding up over her belly button.

Despite the perfunctory morning jerk he gave himself just ten minutes prior, his cock twitches in his work pants, gaze locked on the underside of her ass, the flesh peeking out from beneath her sleep shorts.

The hunger ebbs out of a deep, cavernous hole in him. A heavy, oppressive heat; lust so gnarled and twisted that he hardly recognizes it. He can see it play out in his mind—crawling over the bird’s prone form and turning her over onto her belly, his knees on either side of her legs, cloaking her. Tugging down the zipper of his pants and wrenching those slutty shorts down to mid-thigh before burying his shaft in her hole. Little bird that followed him home, sleeping in his bed. She should thank him for his help with a wet hole.

Simon takes a step into the room and then stops. He won’t—can’t—

His teeth grind together from how hard he clenches his jaw.

He stands in the doorway and watches her sleep in his bed for longer than he should. Only when he feels something ugly well up in his chest does he finally bark out her name, snorting softly when she jumps and nearly falls right off the side of the bed.

“Get up,” Simon grunts. “And make yourself something to eat. I’ve gotta head out.”

He walks away before the befuddled look on her face makes him crack a smile.

She tiptoes out a few minutes later, still in her PJs. Her wary glances tick him off. For the effort it’s taken him to keep his hands to himself, he deserves more than her shifty looks, scoring him like he split her little peach open in her sleep.

Breakfast is an uncomfortable affair. It’s partly his fault, but he doesn’t apologize for it. They eat in tense silence until it’s time for him to head to work.

“Don't think about leaving—any of my shit gets nicked and it's your ass.”

He leaves her with that warning, slamming the door behind him.

Your heart goes quiet at the dawning of your new life.

Adjusting to your new reality takes a bit of effort. The first few days with Simon feel tenuous at best. You worry constantly about doing something wrong and finding yourself back out on the streets. You’re thankful to the point of pandering, apologizing for any sudden move or sound that you make. You can tell it annoys him.

The real work is recontextualizing your perception of yourself. The world feels strange now that you’re outside of it; alien somehow. You used to think of yourself as somehow inextricably woven into the fabric of society. The thought of losing everything never even occurred to you. It never even presented itself as a possibility. You worried about homelessness the way people worry about quicksand—in some nebulous way touching on the real without being absorbed by it.

And now you are cut from another cloth altogether; abruptly, without any warning. You used to feel like one with the rest of the world, a kind of kinship based less on parentage or ancestry and more on inner nature. Weren’t you the same as any of them? But now the drapery has been pulled down and you know—you are not the same.

Your future used to shimmer under the surface like a bioluminescent fish, but now it’s just a ghost.

He tells you to stay put when he goes to work so you do, spending the days puttering around the apartment, watching TV, and cleaning. There’s not much else to do. It’s almost a relief, to be honest. You’ve spent so much time without a place to call home that the second someone offered you one, the outside world became anathema in your head. You couldn’t step foot out of the front door even if you wanted to.

Tears well up at the smallest thing. You blubber over not being able to work the coffee machine in the kitchen. When the sound goes out on the TV, you cry so hard that it leaves you woozy. You’re lachrymose, downtrodden. Soul a startling verdigris; your waterlines might as well be white with encrustations of salt.

He must notice the dark cloud following you from room to room, but he doesn’t bring it up. You’d find it tactful, but you know him a bit better than that.

Then Simon brings home a cat after his shift one day and you don’t know what to say to that.

Thank you doesn’t seem to suffice. I love it doesn’t cut it close. The truth of the matter is that words only ever approximate the feeling; they can get close enough to give you a glimmer of what’s stashed inside, but you can’t pry them all the way open. So you take the off-white cat from him when he practically tosses the poor thing into your arms, and stare up at him wide-eyed, eyes already watering for reasons once again unbeknownst to you.

“Thank you for taking him home,” you say, already on the verge of tears.

He stares down at you, unblinking. You’re learning to read into his silences though.

“Don’t expect me to take care of it,” he says instead of accepting your thanks. “If you can’t handle it, it’s going back outside.”

You hold the cat tight to your chest, staring up at him with horror until the little beast nearly scratches your eye out in an effort to squirm out of your arms.

At first, you’re not sure what to make of it. It can’t be a peace offering because, apart from the rare occasions where you manage to get on his nerves (not wholly impossible, but you’re learning how to stay on his good side for the most part), you and Simon get along pretty well. You coexist, at least. He cooks, you clean.

It’s likely a distraction, you finally realize, something to keep you from moping around the apartment all the time, listless and directionless. Despite the fact that you’re no longer in any immediate danger now that you have a roof over your head, misery still clings to you like a second skin. The relative safety of Simon’s flat has actually only given you a chance to really properly mourn the loss of your former life.

Training the cat to wear a harness without tipping over (the little drama king) and taking him on his first walk outside (just a little turn around the block, though you half jump out of your skin whenever you cross paths with another person) gives you enough of a sense of purpose to propel you through the next week.

You can tell that Simon thinks the cat is more trouble than it’s worth, especially when it decides to fixate on the one person in the flat that doesn’t pay it a lick of attention, but still it makes your heart melt to see it curled up by his side when you watch TV together at the end of the night.

“Is this normal for you?” you ask, hands folded in your lap.

His gaze doesn’t move from the television screen. “Is what normal?”

“Taking in strays.”

He snorts, then takes a second to answer. “No.”

You wonder if he intends to sound as caustic as he comes across. The truth is self-evident though. Words only mask the real, and the real in this case is that Simon Riley is a man that feeds and takes home strays. He can grumble about it all he wants. It’s a bit demeaning to think of yourself that way, but once again, the truth is what it is.

You study him from the corner of your eye until bedtime rolls around again. He’s become the most interesting thing in the world to you, through every fault of his own.

If he didn’t want you to fixate on him, he wouldn’t have left you home alone with nothing else to do.

“Bird!” Simon roars from the other room. “The cat’s pissed on the floor again.”

You spring out of bed before Simon has a chance to toss it out onto the balcony.

It feels temporary up until the first time you use Simon’s address on a job application. It stands out stark on your phone screen, black on glowing white. You’ve always preferred it to dark mode, though that preference has fluctuated in recent weeks as you’ve spent more and more time on your phone.

This is the first time staring at the screen without blinking for a prolonged period of time that hasn’t left you with a throbbing migraine.

He tells you to stop bothering him with stupid shit when you ask him if it’s alright to use his address. That answers that. Guilt lingers on the periphery of your mind the first time that you do, but then the application is submitted. An innocuous grey box that redefines your whole world in a way that [Thanks for applying!] doesn’t seem to encapsulate.

Your old friends come next. They come back one by one, guilty, furtive looks aplenty. You Facetime the one who wouldn’t let you sleep on her couch while sitting on Simon’s bed. When she asks you about your living situation, all you tell her is that you found a roommate. It doesn’t feel right to give her more information than that. What has she done to deserve your honesty?

You manage pleasantries and a half decent conversation, but truth again lingers at the back of your mind. The unspoken reality that this person—someone you trusted—could’ve been there for you in your time of need but chose to look the other way instead. Like taking you in would’ve been some big, terrible thing.

The body forgets everything except what hurts it. The body remembers nothing except what helps it survive.

Gratefulness lodges into your heart like an arrow shot from a castle’s ramparts intent on your demise. You could pull it out from the other side and succumb to blood loss, or you could push forward, lay siege to the man hidden inside its walls.

And you do. You want to show him every grateful inch of you. Even when it only results in more upset. Simon comes home to the smoke alarm blaring and a small fire in the microwave before he bans you from the kitchen altogether. You only cry for an hour in the bedroom with the door shut before he drags you out to takeout on the table in the living room. It’s an improvement.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle into your veggie burger, on the verge of tears again when you glance into the kitchen to see most of the mess still there.

“It’s fine.”

“I just want to—I wanted to make it up to you…for taking me in.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he says brusquely, dismissing you. His tone tells you to drop it, but that seems as likely as you growing wings and flying away.

“Yes, I do. You let me stay here when I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“If you want to make it up to me, take care of the cat and stop leaving your shit all over the bathroom. Found your knickers on the floor after you showered yesterday.”

Your face goes hot at that. You have nothing else to say.

Your attraction is a banal consequence of living under the same roof as him. There are only so many times he can come up behind you while you’re making your morning cup of coffee and swipe your mug before taking a sip from over your shoulder, barricading you against the counter. Acutely aware of the size of him with the way he’s pressed up against you.

You lose your train of thought whenever Simon wanders into a room. He lumbers in like a beast, steel-toed boots covered in mud and dust, ignoring the way you scold him for walking around the apartment in his shoes. Just cocks an eyebrow and stares down at you knowingly, like he can see right through you, knows that you’re only squawking and flitting around to hide the way your thighs rub together.

“It’s my fuckin’ flat,” he says instead of pointing out that your pussy’s wet because she knows there’s a man in the house that could take care of her proper. You know it too.

“I live here too, you know,” you huff. “I can’t wash the floors every time you come home.”

“Thought I was doing you a favour letting you live here.”

His words would fill you with righteous indignation, but they don’t because his actions don’t line up. You study him like a moth under glass, enthralled by the parts of him that used to frighten you.

It’s more than that though. He’s wedged himself into the hurt place in your heart, holding it up like Atlas.

You really do think that there’s something so special about him that you’ll never be able to articulate. Simon is everything you didn’t know you desperately wanted. The longer you live with him, the harder it is to deny how much you need him.

You will show your gratitude though. Every tender, aching morsel of it.

The little peach she grinds on his thigh is wet and ripe. Simon doesn’t tell her that he doesn’t need her gratitude; if he wanted it, he would’ve taken it already. But he doesn’t shove her out of his lap either. It’s not his problem if she thinks it’s necessary or not.

Maybe it’s not solely for his benefit, he concedes when she winds both arms around his neck and pushes her supple tits into his chest, climbing over his lap until her pussy is pressed right up against the cock fattening up in his jeans. She whimpers like she’s in pain.

Must not come a lot; he knows she at least hasn’t in recent days. Simon’s always been a light sleeper—he’s sure he would’ve heard any desperate attempts to get herself off in his bed, the springs creaking under her weight, her hushed, bitten off moans leaking out from under the doorframe. The thought riles him up more than he thought it would.

Still, Simon doesn’t lift a hand to help the poor bird in his lap as she grinds down on his length. His arms stay stretched across the back of the couch, hips canted just enough to give her a perch and nothing more.

She gasps every word into his ear, voice all pitched and breathy. “Ah, ah, ah—thank you, thank you, I…—can I please have it? Please, please let me, Simon, pleasepleaseplease—”

It feels like everything they’ve been through so far has been leading to this. He’d smelt it coming like blood in the water.

All week, his bird has been sitting on her hands and trying not to give herself away. Cloaked in a nervous, frenetic energy. Anticipatory. She’d doe-eyed him the night before and begged him to sleep in the bed with her instead of wrecking his back on the couch, but he’d ignored her in favour of watching Argentina decimate Croatia in the semi-finals. It must have not sat right with her though because she’d been broody from the moment he left for work until he got home, steering him into the kitchen and practically hand feeding him before coaxing him into the living room to watch a movie while she cuddled up beside him.

That hadn’t lasted long.

“What’s gotten into you, pet?” Simon asks, hardly dissuading her when she presses petal soft lips to his jaw and nuzzles, breathing heavily. His heart swells. Desperate little slut.

“Took care of me,” she mumbles, almost slurring her words. “Always taking care of me, Simon.”

There’s no denying how hard it makes him to think about being her protector. The littlest things make her smile. Even the bloody cat had her trailing after him for a week straight after the fact, eternally underfoot. Always trying to curry favour. Eager to please.

Her worship leaves him unbalanced. Unstable even. A train careening off its track, the massive weight of catastrophe right behind it. The sense that life will never be the same after this. His surface level indifference is underscored by steeled self-control. He keeps his arms on the couch because he knows the second he puts them on her, it’s over. There’ll be no holding him back anymore, no possibility of him ever letting her go back out into the real world. Lock jawed, teeth sunk into her tender underbelly.

“Told you, you don’t owe me nothing,” Simon murmurs, curling his hands under her ass.

“Then—then…—I don’t know, pretend it’s just for me.” It’s a joke because they both know it’s not just for her. When her eyes sparkle with amusement, his cock throbs.

He lets her ruck the shirt over his head and struggle with his belt until she manages to unbuckle it like he has no say in the matter. She’s far less considerate with her own clothes, shucking them off and nearly ripping her knickers in the process, which almost prompts him to take her by the wrists and slow her down. He likes the lace and frills.

It’s a fight to fit his cock into her hole, as slick as she is. Coin slot tight; he almost breaks and tells her to take it easy when she reaches behind her to line his shaft up with her entrance and sits down, just barely stretching around the mushroomed head of his dick before wincing, tears springing into her eyes.

Simon does break when she tries to sink down another inch, thighs shaking violently. “Right, get off—you ain’t ready for this.”

“I am!” she insists, face screwed up in a scowl and a bead of sweat dripping down her temple. “Just—I can do it, Simon—”

“No, you can’t. You’re rushing and hurting yourself—”

“Wait, okay, wait, I can…just give me a minute, okay?” she begs, and he doesn’t tell her that he’d give her all the time in the world. Stay on this couch until the flesh fell off his bones. He’s waited so long; what’s a little longer?

Besides, the sight of her stretching herself out with her fingers is reward enough. She whines into his shoulder and shudders when she has to force another finger in before she’s ready. Too eager. It could give a man a complex. His blood is already scorching him from the inside out, too hot for his veins.

He considers helping her out, but watching her writhe and struggle in his lap is far more enjoyable.

He stopped paying attention awhile back, too focused on cupping her tits and running his tongue around the budded areola, sucking her pert nipple into his mouth, but she couldn’t have gotten to more than three fingers before running out of patience and lining him up again. This time, she sinks a bit deeper on the first stroke, still choking on her breath but forcing herself to take a bit more.

“You’re alright—you’re alright,” Simon murmurs, stroking a hand up and down her back while she impales herself on his length. She’s still too tight to take him comfortably, sweats and shakes over him. He pinches her nipple to distract her from the pain and smiles when she yelps.

She melts all over him, slick drenching his shaft and lap, her tongue lapping at the sweaty skin of his neck. Honeysuckle fragrant; the sweetest thing he’s ever known. Silken, tight. Fits like a glove around him.

He could lose himself in her. Piston into her until the thought of where he begins and where he ends dissolves into the tight warmth between her legs.

His bird is a greedy girl. She uses him like a toy to get herself off, bouncing in his lap and mewling into his ear everytime his cockhead nudges against her cervix. Too big to fit all the way in.

“You do this a lot, pet? Fuck every man that lends you a hand?” he pants, taunting her.

“No!” she snarls in his ear, feisty and sharp-toothed. Her nails dig into his back, scoring white lines into his skin. The shiver that wracks him is so violent that his arms tighten around her waist reflexively, making her gasp.

It doesn’t matter whether she does this often or not; the only thing that matters is that he’s the only man that gets to fuck her from here on out. Still, winding her up is half the fun.

“Perfect girl,” Simon chuckles, breathless. “Made for me. Got m’self a pet right off the street.”

And he did, didn’t he? Went wandering out into the night and came home with a bird fluttering her wet little wings.

His conscience is clean. He could’ve tied her down, kept her right where he wanted her (in his bed, his flat, the yawning cavity of his chest—) but his self-control remains unparalleled. Tough as nails. Strong as steel. And now look at what he has as a reward for his patience—a fever-hot cunt around his cock and delicate fingernails scratching the base of his skull.

A pretty bird that’s made his chest a cage.

The world goes vertical, horizontal. Fluid; sliding away from him. Something crashes in the background, so far off in the distance that he can hardly make out the sound.

He opens his eyes to find the ceiling staring back down at him, and then her face, hovering over him on the carpeted floor, her hands kneading the muscle of his chest. Her brows are drawn tight now, pinched. She stares down at him, past him, gaze like a transparent veil.

“Gi’me…gi’me…” she pants, barely able to pull herself off his cock.

He has to dig his fingers into her ass and pull her off, ignoring the way she whines and begs him to fill her back up. Ignores it because he knows what’s best for her; knows how to take care of what he owns.

When he bucks up into her, she chokes, fingers nearly yanking his chest hair out.

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s pretty,” he breathes. Snaps his hips up into hers again, relishing in the way she squeezes tight around him, almost to the point of pain.

His pleasure always comes jagged though. Whether the ache of his joints or nails tearing up the skin of his back and chest. Vicious and messy—how he likes it. She gives him everything he could want and more. The hand dug into his chest right above his heart could pierce right through the flesh and tear it out.

He pulls her all the way off his cock just for the pleasure of hearing her beg him again, then pulls her up his chest and eats her out until the beast in his belly calms down.

He yields to her whining only after a good few minutes. Soft bastard. Drags her back down until her soaked hole mouths at the head of his cock and he thrusts back up inside. Home. It’s his now, whether she likes it or not. Simon guesses he’s lucky that she wants it too; if he had to convince her, he would, but her desperation is just another gift for him to savour.

“Squeeze me good, bird. Say thank you—” thank you for taking me home, thank you for keeping me– almost spills off his tongue, but he reigns it in. She knows what to be thankful for.

“Nngh, Simon,” she sings, fucking herself on his cock. The sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

Simon’s never felt bigger than under his sweet bird. Thighs spread so wide around him that he knows she’ll ache in the morning. Brutish hands groping her thighs and waist and tits, rough against the softness of her skin. Stuffed full of a big cock, not even to the root; she bites right through her bottom lip when Simon pets at the thin skin stretched around his cock, her gaze wounded, overwhelmed.

Nearly blacks out at the thought of cramming a finger up there too. Only faint concern for her well-being tamps down the urge.

“Come on, fuck—that good, pet?”

“R-right there, oh god, ohgodohgod—”

He lets her ride him until she comes, until he comes, until his spend is blistering hot in her cunt, drooling down the length of his cock, frothy white with her cream and his come.

It’s a sight to look at. Gets him right in the chest. Nothing like times of yore; this is something with meaning, with feeling. When he lifts her off, his seed trickles out of her soft hole in white globs and makes his chest ache. It doesn’t matter whether it takes root or not. All that he needs is already here.

Beautiful and rare as a sundog; haloed by light. All this time, he dared not think this could be it.

He thinks he’ll love her with the same ferocity Icarus had on his descent.

She shivers when he traces his fingers up her spine. “N’more. M’tired.”

“Wasn’t gonna, pet.”

The bedroom then. She twitches in his arms when Simon carries her to bed and pats his chest approvingly when he slides in beside her.

He could’ve told her that it’d end up this way. He smiles indulgently when she shifts and splays over his chest, her nose nudging his nipple. Already fast asleep.

In the morning, you sit across from him, half a grapefruit in a bowl in front of you and a mug of coffee, black.

“I think I want to go back to school,” you say, apropos of nothing. The spoon clinks against the inside of the bowl.

“Yeah?” he says, only half-listening.

“I can always get a part time job on the days when I don’t have class. I never liked my old job anyway.”

“Do whatever you want,” Simon grunts. “Not my problem.”

Under the table, your cat’s tail curls around your ankle while he waits for you to sneak him the scraps.

You smile.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley/reader #simon riley x you

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gyaruhana · 1 month ago

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Can you do a smut fic where readers dating thanos and she nearly dies in red light green light, and they realise how dangerous the games are and fuck like it’s their last night together? Im talking pure need and lust, desperation after realising the stakes of the squid games

Thanos / Choi Su-bong - I love you

Synopsis: After witnessing so much death and realizing you may both be next, you decide to fuck in the bathroom.

A/N: combined this with two other requests asking for bathroom sex.. i hope that was okay !! also not entirely proof read..

Warnings: smut content, fingering, praise, he's more gentle tbh

You had never feared death before. It always seemed so far away and it was the least of your concerns considering the debt you and your boyfriend, Thanos, share after betting it all on some coin a youtuber recommended. Never once in your life had you thought you would actually die. You always imagined that you'd die at an old age in a fancy house- maybe even with a kid or two. Point is, you didn't think about death because you really didn't see any need to.

Until today that is.

You and your boyfriend had come across a great opportunity to earn lots of won by playing a few games. Considering you had already earned quite a bit from a game of ddakji, it was a no-brainer to agree to a few games. At the time, it didn't seem suspicious because the salesman who offered the card to you had given you plenty of won without a catch.

Although you were knocked out with a gas when you entered the designated car together and practically kidnapped, neither of you thought anything about it- too excited at the idea of making money to pay off your debt with a few games. Any money goes a long way to finally paying off your debt so you can focus on getting your dream life.

Idiotically enough, you also didn't find any suspicion in the guy yelling something about how you'll be shot if you move. It actually made you and Thanos laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you both assumed he was just some drunk making up shit to scare people. How wrong the both of you were.

By the time everyone had made it to the halfway mark with plenty of time to spare, Thanos saw a bee land on some girl and made a comment about it. The girl immediately let out a scream and moved to try to get the bee off of her. It was amusing to watch until the sound of a gunshot rang through the air and her body fell to the floor.

The smile on both your faces dropped immediately as blood pooled around her now-dead body. You and Thanos stood deadly still as people started to scream and run away out of fear. Every gunshot made your heart drop further because that could be you or him. The idea one of you might die right now was sickening for the both of you.

The moment the sound of shooting stopped, the doll turned out and called green light again. Thanos quickly reached for his necklace while walking forward, desperately needing to be high right now so he could try to pretend like this wasn't really happening. Meanwhile, you didn't move a muscle - too afraid you might die here. You didn't want to be shot too.

The doll turned its head and called out red light making everyone freeze again. Another gunshot rang out making you flinch but thankfully the doll didn't notice the small movement. When it turned around again, Thanos put the pill in his mouth before closing his necklace and looking behind him. You still weren't moving, making him worry. You didn't have time to just stand there, you had to get going and make it to the end.

“What are you doing? You have to move,” Thanos spoke out as he gestured for you to come over to him. He kept still when the doll announced red light again but he kept his eyes on yours. He couldn't have you just stand there until your inevitable death. The moment the players could move again, Thanos ran toward you and grabbed your wrist before pulling you along with him.

With Thanos dragging you along, you both managed to make it to the end before the time ran out. The relief the two of you shared was only there momentarily. You may have survived this game but what's to say you'll survive the next game? There was no guarantee. In fact, you weren't even confident in yourself that you'd survive the next game. After all, you only got through this because Thanos had dragged you to the end.

As if sensing your fear, Thanos looked at you and cupped your face with his hands. “Don't look so stressed, baby. We're fine,” he spoke as he gently caressed your cheek. You gave a small smile at his words but the fear didn't disappear. He let out a sigh before tapping your cheek twice and removing his hands. He knew there wasn't much he could say to make this any better. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure. The only reason he was calm was because he had popped a pill the moment the first person died.

As the players were slowly led back to the main room which they had awoken in, Thanos took your hand to keep you close to him. Despite the drugs he had taken, he was still pretty stressed about the whole ordeal. Mostly because of you. He couldn't fathom the idea of you getting shot like those other idiots in the last game. He'd definitely go crazy if you got hurt so he needed to keep you close to him.

Even after you were already in the room, his hand still kept a firm grip on yours as if you might disappear should he let go. You didn't mind though. If anything, his hand squeezing yours was a huge comfort. A silent reminder that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. It made you feel significantly calmer to be close to him.

He led you to the back of the room and sat you down on the bed before sitting down next to you, his legs crossed with his hand still in yours. He looks at you for a few moments, analyzing your face and trying to read your thoughts. He didn’t like the way your eyes lingered on your lap instead of him so he raised a hand and tilted your chin upwards to make you look at him.

“Baby, you good?” he asks even though he already knew the answer to that question. You were quite far from good after all the blood you had seen. “Am i good?” you say sarcastically, mocking his own words. “Of course, I’m not! I just saw people die! Too many! Fuck, that could’ve been me or you,” you speak, your stress about the whole situation evident in your face and tone. “You gotta relax. We’re fine. Besides we’ll get out of here soon,” he says reassuringly as he looks at you with worry.

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you look to the side- away from him. It was quiet for a few moments as Thanos waited for you to say something else, knowing that you were thinking something. “What if we don’t?” you finally say as you look back at him again. “Don’t say that,” he speaks as his face hardens slightly at the idea that you might die. Fuck, he couldn’t bear the thought of you laying lifeless. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less of a possibility,” you respond with a frown. He knows that you’re right. It’s a possibility that he can’t just ignore.

“I swear on my life that I will protect you,” he says with a sincere look on his face. It didn’t make you feel any better though because swearing on his life in a game where he could actually die wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t say that,” you speak, repeating his earlier words as your face hardens. You didn’t want him to even think about sacrificing his life for you. You couldn’t see what you’d do without him. 45.6 billion was useless if he couldn’t be there with you to spend it.

“Okay,” he says with a small smirk as he raises his hand in mock surrender. “I’ll swear on the sun and the moon instead,” he said as he lowered his hands. His words were enough to make you smile a little. Him swearing on the sun and the moon was plenty more significant then others may think. He swore on the sun and the moon he’d treat you right when he first asked you to be his. He swore on the sun and the moon to always be there for you after a particularly bad day when you lost your dad. Most of all, he swore on the sun and the moon that he’d buy a nice house and you could get married and live happily ever after together. He never ever took the name of the sun and moon in vain and that’s why hearing him say it now made you feel just a little better about the current situation.

Thanos looked behind himself for a moment before back at you. “Hey.. if swearing on the sun and moon isn’t enough for you, I could show you how serious I am,” he says with a small smirk. It didn’t take an idiot to know what he meant by that. “..what exactly does that mean?” you question even though you already knew exactly what he meant. There was a spark of desire in his eyes that matched yours as his hand gripped yours tightly. “I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” he says before standing up and pulling you up from the bed with him.

He drags you towards the door on the right side of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Hey, open up. Bathroom needed,” he says and the door opens after a moment. “Ladies first,” he says with a smirk as he steps out of the way to let you go in first. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your face as you walk in. The guard led you both down the hallway and to the bathroom. Thanos didn’t waste any time in pushing past that door, dragging you behind him.

With his patience wearing thin, he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was unlike his usual kisses that were rough and involved his tongue jammed down your throat. This kiss was more passionate as if he was trying to say something words could never convey properly. He quickly pushed you back into one of the stalls and kicked the door closed behind him, locking it with one of his hands. He spun you around and pushed your back against the stall wall.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbles after pulling away momentarily. He stares at you silently - memorizing every feature of your face. He could never get enough of how pretty you were. It felt like a miracle someone like you was with a dickhead like him. He couldn’t help but admire you. “..What? Is something wrong?” you say as you look at him with concern. You didn’t expect him to just stare at you out of nowhere and it was a little embarrassing.

He shakes his head as he snaps out of his trance. “No, sorry. Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am,” he says before kissing you again like it’s the last time he could ever get to kiss you. In his mind, it damn well could be. One of you really could be dead by tomorrow evening and then that was it. He’d never see you smile or laugh again or look at him like he was the most important thing in the world. The thought was sickening. No matter how confident or cocky he’d act, he was still just Choi Su-bong. And Choi Su-bong was undeniably yours.

You put your arms around his neck as you kissed him back - the feeling of his hands on your waist keeping you in the moment and erasing any memory of the earlier events just for now. His hands slipped under your shirt to feel your skin before he pulled away from the kiss and opted for leaving kisses on your neck instead. He sucked at the skin so delicately and slowly, trying to savor his time with you as much as possible. His lips paused for a moment when they hovered over your pulse point before he kissed the area and bit it softly to mark you right above your pulse so he could feel your heart beat quicker - a silent confirmation that you were still very much alive.

His hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants before he tugged them down till they dropped to the floor. His hand then pulled your underwear down too, not wanting to waste time with foreplay with the limited time you two shared together. His index finger gently traced over your clit making a moan escape the back of your mouth. “You’re already wet for me? God - I can just skip ahead then, yeah?” he says as he pulls his hand to pull his pants down along with his boxers.

“Not even a little prep?” you question as you look at him. He laughs quietly before nodding his head. “Fine, but you better cum quick - I need to feel you,” he speaks as one of his hands finds its way to your hole again. He carefully rubs his fingers back and forth before slipping in a finger. His free hand went to cover your mouth when a moan escaped as he couldn’t risk the guard outside the bathrooms hearing and breaking up this moment with you.

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he says as he starts to finger you. You nod your head as you try to keep as quiet as possible. He inserts another finger and begins to quicken the pace in which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you. He kept his eyes on your face, loving your reactions to his fingers deep inside your aching core. He had always observed you like this but there was something different about it now that you two had each other to lose. Everything was so much more passionate than usual. You found that your release came much quicker this time around as you released on his fingers.

“God, you’re so good for me,” he says as he pulls his fingers out slowly before bringing them to his mouth and tasting you. He held eye contact with you as he sucked his fingers clean before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand finding its place on the back of your neck to keep you close. He slowly lined himself up with you, his tip rubbing against your entrance making him let out a small groan.

He slowly pushed into you, burying his face into your neck as he stretched you out with his dick. He let out a heavy huff at the feeling of being inside you. It felt euphoric. You were so unbelievably tight as he continued to inch himself further in. You let out a moan that was muffled by his hand as he finally pushed in the rest of his dick with one stroke. “You good?” he asks as he pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you. You were still for a few moments before you nodded your head - finally adjusting to the stretch.

The moment you nodded your head, he slipped out before thrusting right back in. He let out a low groan as he repeated the movement over and over, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock deep inside you. You leaned your head back against the stall door as he thrusted in and out of you with a quick pace. His hands grab at your hips roughly to keep you still while he thrusts in and out of your tight hole. “God.. Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the bathroom. He loved being deep inside you like this. It felt so fucking good. Even more so now because it was a way to reassure himself you were still here with him and not one of the many corpses he saw earlier.

The thought you could be dead soon spurred him on to fuck you harder. He hated that possibility. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about you. How your head was thrown back, how your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, how you tried to keep quiet but struggled because he made you feel so good. He loved every fucking part of you - you were perfect.

"Fuck - I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much. Please say it back" he spoke as he thrusted into you quickly, his pace getting sloppy as he drew ever-so closer to a sweet release. God, he wanted to fill you up with his cum but he needed to hear you say that you loved him like he loved you. He needed to know you cared for him and wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. You nodded your head before forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I-I love you too,” you speak and the groan he lets out is so loud.

He immediately releases with one last thrust, making sure his cum spills deep inside of you. You released along with him with a moan and you both stilled. It was quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing that filled the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he came down from his high. His hands slowly trailed up from your hips to your face as he gently held your cheeks in his hands.

“I love you,” he repeats as he opens his eyes and looks into yours. There was very much a different kind of look in his eyes this time. A look that told you how much he really meant what he said. There was a hint of fear in his eyes too as he genuinely feared that he may lose you sooner or later to these stupid games.

“I know,”

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #xaeinfinity #thanos squid game #squid game s2 #choi su bong #squid game smut #choi su bong smut

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