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idkwhatever580 · 5 days

Text

Breaking up with you

Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader

Prompt: y/n is already having a bad day, what happens when she overhears Natasha and Clint’s conversation?

Warnings: angst but fluff at the end (don’t worry I am incapable of writing a sad ending 😭), swearing, breaking up, mentions of upcoming period, crying

Y/n’s pov

I wake up feeling clingy today. I don’t even know why it’s just one of those days.

I whine when I realize there is sun seeping in through the windows and onto my face so I flip around to find Natasha but she isn’t there.

I pout and reach for her until I find the end of the bed but no natty

“Natty?”

I mumble still with my morning sleepy voice.

No answer

Of course. She’s probably training. But she usually waits for me to wake up or at least leaves a note

I never did check if she left a note. So I look at both of our bedside tables. Nothing. I check my phone. Nothing. I get up to go to the bathroom. Not even a sticky note on the mirror.

Tragic

Maybe she got called on a last minute mission. No. She’d have someone tell me if she couldn’t tell me herself.

So why isn’t she here? I just want to cuddle with my girlfriend and eat takis.

Ohhhh. I get it now. I’m gonna start my period soon. I always crave takis when I’m about to be on my period. Which is probably also why I’m feeling so clingy.

So I check the time and shrug thinking what’s the worst that can happen if I eat a bag of takis for breakfast?

I grab one of the throw blankets as I pass the living room to the kitchen and walk into the pantry.

I look at my section and find the line of takis that says ‘OFF LIMITS I’LL BITE YOU!’ On its label. And I grab a bag happily knowing that nobody has tried taking them.

Except for Peter. Poor kid. I was actively on my period and he didn’t know since he was new. Ended up with his aunt laughing next to me when he was showing her the bite marks on his arm. She told him that he should have read the label.

I agree. Always listen when someone says they’ll bite you. They probably mean it.

Anyways. I go to the living room and plop down and then I say

“Friday?”

“Yes miss y/l/n?”

“Where is everyone?”

It’s a bit muffled since I’m stuffing my face with takis but Friday is able to understand.

“They are all in a meeting right now”

I furrow my eyebrows and say

“Without me?”

“It seems to be that way yes”

I frown and get up going to the meeting room.

##################

Natasha’s pov

We are having a meeting without y/n and suddenly Friday speaks up

“Miss y/l/n is on her way to the meeting room now. I would advise you hurry.”

We all scramble to change the scenery to make it look like a normal meeting about an upcoming mission.

Y/n walks in and says

“What’s going on guys?”

Wanda invades my brain and says

“Ignore her. Do not say a thing. I’ll handle it”

I nod once. I don’t really need to ignore her, but it fuels the fire I guess.

Wanda speaks up finally

“Oh we’re just having a meeting about our next mission. We decided to let you sleep in since your skill set isn’t required for this one.”

She shrugs her shoulders and says

“Okay. Hi nat”

She smiles and waves before leaving and I don’t say a thing.

Once she’s gone and Friday says that she is not coming back we let our breaths out and tony says

“That was a close one”

##################

Y/n’s pov

I sit back down and start to overthink.

I usually am able to keep my thoughts at bay but today is just not my day. So I get lost in my head.

Why did nat not say anything? She always says something. Always makes an effort to get up and show me some affection. Maybe it’s an off day for her too. Sometimes she doesn’t like to be affectionate and maybe that’s why.

I break myself out of my head when some of the avengers come tumbling into the room.

Nat is not one of them so I say

“Where’d nat go?”

A bunch of them shrug but Wanda says

“I think she might have gone upstairs.”

I nod my head and say in a slightly more hushed tone just to Wanda

“Did she seem off?”

Wanda shakes her head and says

“No? Why?”

I say

“Oh”

And shrug my shoulders and pick myself up

“No reason. Just wondering. Thanks!”

So I head upstairs and find Natasha in our room. She’s sitting on the bed and reading a book.

“Hey baby! You didn’t leave a note telling me where you were”

I fake pout at her and she doesn’t do anything just mumbles a quick apology.

I try to get a conversation going.

“No it’s okay baby. I just got a little lonely for a sec.”

She ignores me but I can’t catch a signal so I keep trying.

“What are we doing today?”

She just ignores me again and I sigh and say

“I guess that book is real good. I’ll leave you to it. I think I left my takis in the living room anyways. So I’ll be down there probably on my phone if you need me. I love you”

She doesn’t even say I love you back to me.

Alright. Im a bit hurt by that one. But nevertheless I do what I said I would.

I finished my bag of takis a while ago and I’m falling asleep on this couch. It’s definitely not as comfortable as nats arms but she probably needs space. Maybe the meeting made her have a few flashbacks or something.

Whatever it is I’ll give her enough space to process it.

My thoughts are cut off when the sweet escape of sleep overtakes me.

…

I wake up about an hour later and find that someone had put a blanket over me while I was out. Thanks.

I get up and go to our room hoping nat is ready to talk now. But she’s not there when I get there so I go in search of her.

After a while I find her in Clint’s room but I don’t go in. They’re talking and for some reason I get the urge to eavesdrop. So I do.

“Well you have to say something. You can’t just be leading her on. It’ll hurt her worse.”

“I don’t know Clint”

“Nat. I think you should just tell her”

Wait. Are they talking about me?

“How am I even supposed to go about that? I mean. It’s gonna be so awkward! Not to mention it’ll break the poor girl’s heart”

“Well sometimes you have to do things that aren’t comfortable for you.”

“Okay so I have to go and tell this girl who is head over heels for me that I’m not?! I mean. It’s so obvious right?”

“It is pretty obvious that you don’t like her”

“Yeah well she’s clearly not catching any signs. She’s really naive and besides, I’m literally-”

Fuck this shit.

I walk back to our room to get away from it all.

I can’t even handle this right now. My own girlfriend isn’t in love with me anymore. Of course.

Just when I think she’s in it with me forever. She doesn’t even like me.

And I’m so stupid to not notice that she was feeling this way. I’m probably holding her back.

This is bullshit. Why today? Why me?

I sulk in my room for a while and then I realize that I should surprise her and break up with her first. It’ll make it easier anyways.

I huff and decide to finally get dressed. I probably shouldn’t break up with her in my stitch pajamas.

So I change into some decent clothes and make sure I look presentable. Then I once again go in search of my soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

This time I find her in the living room. I stand tall and say

“Natasha”

She ignores me. Fucking bitch. At least get the balls to break up with me. I’m having to do it for you.

“Natalia”

I use her name and she looks at me. Her face is still but I know she’s listening.

“May I have a word with you? Alone”

I emphasize the alone part and she nods her head softly. We walk in silence to our room and I close the door behind me.

We stare at each other for a second when she breaks the silence

“You wanted to tell me something? Is everything alright?”

I cross my arms and say

“No everything is not alright. I just want to say a few things and then I’ll be on my way.”

She nods her head and quirks a brow. I know she notices my standoffish behavior.

“I’m breaking up with you”

I tell it to her blunt. And her face goes through so many emotions before she’s able to say

“What?!”

I look at her and say

“You heard me”

She shakes her head to break out of her thoughts and she says

“Yes I heard you but you can’t be serious right?”

I narrow my eyes at her and give her a nasty look and say

“What? Didn’t see it coming?”

She shakes her head and says

“Wha- wh- why?”

I roll my eyes and say

“You act like you didn’t want this in the first place. There’s a few things you should know. Im not naive. I’m not oblivious. And I’m not your girlfriend. Don’t worry. I made it easy for you now you don’t have to break my heart.”

She tears up and before she can make her case I walk out. I don’t want to hear it.

And I’m about to break down. So I quickly walk to Wanda’s room and storm in.

She stands up quickly and vision, who was sitting on the bed with her watching sitcoms, makes a speedy exit upon seeing my state.

“What’s wrong?”

I sniffle and try to hold back my tears and I say

“I broke up with Natasha”

“WHAT?!”

I start completely sobbing by now. Wanda picks me up and carries me into her bed and she comforts me until I can speak in full sentences again.

“Okay what happened? I thought she was your endgame”

I nod and say

“She was. Until I heard her talking to Clint earlier”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“What did you hear?”

I tell her about the conversation I overheard and she squints analyzing my retelling.

“Is it okay if I call Clint in here? It sounds like you didn’t get the full story and I want to hear another side to it”

I shrug my shoulders and nod my head so Wanda texts him. After a few minutes he comes in with an angry face and a wet patch on his shoulder.

Great. Natasha’s already gotten to him.

“Why would you do that y/n?!”

Wanda cuts him off and says

“Hold on Clint. Before we get to that we need to hear something from you okay? So calm down”

Wanda explains to him what I’ve told and he sighs. Then he starts chuckling softly and then full on laughing and I frown and say

“What’s so funny!?”

He shakes his head and says

“Y/n. Natasha wasn’t talking to me about you. She was talking to me about Reese. The new intern. She’s been all over Natasha recently and cannot pick up any signs. If you had stayed a second later you would have heard Natasha say ‘and besides. I’m literally in love with y/n’ and none of this would have happened.”

I look down a little embarrassed.

“I guess sometimes I get a little bit angry. I didn’t even think.”

He nods his head and pats my shoulder and says

“I think you should go and fix this.”

I nod my head and go to his room where Natasha is.

I knock softly and say

“Nat?”

She jumps up and wipes her tears trying to seem strong and says

“Oh. What’s up. Did you need me to get my things?”

I shake my head and say

“I’m so sorry baby. I was eaves dropping on your conversation with Clint earlier and I missed some parts and thought you were talking about me! So I got angry and sad and then I was like ‘well if she’s thinking about doing it to me I’m gonna do it first’ because I was protecting myself from the inevitability of a heart break. I love you so much and I just was scared. I didn’t even think to ask you about it first and I’m sorry I was just being sensitive today and I had no idea! I am so sorry and I compl-”

Natasha cuts off my ramble with a kiss and I obviously kiss back.

We somehow end up half way making out until Clint says

“Hey! Not in my room you fucking horndogs!”

We pull away and giggle and Natasha grabs my hand and pulls me to our room and I say

“I’m sorry”

She shakes her head and says

“Y/n when you said that to me it made my heart split in two. I love you entirely too much to make the mistake of letting you go. I’m sure I would have come after you if it weren’t for my initial shock. I guess I just thought we were so endgame that the thoughts of a breakup would have never crossed my mind.”

I smile and say

“I’m sorry.”

Then all of a sudden I get nervous and play with my hands and look at the ground and she says

“What’s on your mind sweetheart?”

I bite my lip and say

“Since I um. Since I broke up with you like thirty minutes ago will you- um- will you be my girlfriend again?”

She laughs and says

“Yes of course baby”

I smile and say

“Sorry. It felt informal to not ask.”

She cups my face in her hands and says

“Next time let’s talk about it before we go breaking up with each other yes?”

I nod my head and say

“Sorry. I think I’m starting my period soon so I’m kind of having some fog brain.”

She nods her head in understanding and I say

“Now that we’re okay, can I have cuddles?”

She smiles and says

“Yes dorogoy. Of course we can.”

I smile and then say in a teasing tone

“This is actually your fault”

She scoffs as I cuddle next to her and plays along

“How is this my fault?!”

“You didn’t leave a note for me this morning.”

She rolls her eyes and says

“I am sorry baby. I was rushed out of bed and it slipped my mind. I guess it’s because I usually don’t have meetings without you so I forgot”

I nod my head and say

“You forgort”

I giggle a bit and she says

“You and your fricken vocal stims.”

I smile and say

“I think I’m pretty cool”

She smiles and says

“The coolest. Now let me cuddle my girlfriend in peace”

I smile and pull her super close to me. Then push her away as a joke and half way yell

“Leave room for Jesus!”

She rolls her eyes and says

“Come here.”

I get closer and say

“I love you”

She smiles and says

“I love you too”

##################

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346

A/N: sometimes I’ll use the most random things to separate my section 😭

#natasha romanoff #marvel #avengers #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #fanfiction #black widow #mcu

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heartss4val · 10 months

Text

"lay all your love on me."

synopsis: general dating headcanons for our favorite water boy. pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader headcanons. word count: 1.2k

• oh, the antics.

• he's constantly trying to impress you even if you claim it gives you secondhand embarrassment. he'll be practicing tricks on his skateboard and be like, "this one's for you, babe!" and goes to do a kickflip or something and COMPLETELY falls off. LMFAOO.

and he'll be all whiny when you patch up his hand because he wanted to make you proud!! but all is good after you reassure him and kiss his scratches better. (as per his request.)

• percy loves partaking in your hobbies, regardless of his skill level.

if your hobby is knitting, soon enough you’ll be gifted a sweater with a pink heart and your name stitched unevenly on the seams. yeah, it might be a little itchy and it's practically falling off your shoulders, but he tried his best!!

if you like reading, he'll snuggle up with you as you two share a book. (although he prefers if you read to him, dyslexia is a pain.)

you get the point. quality time is something he values greatly. as long as he gets to spend time with you, he doesn't mind what activities you choose to engage in, whether it's watching, listening, or doing something else altogether.

• you usually accompany percy on quests, but on the rare occasion when you don't, he's quite literally counting the days until he can see you like a child counting down until christmas.

before leaving, the hugs he gives you are so tight it's unreal. like, his friends have to intervene to separate him from you. as he gradually steps back, he tells you he loves you and misses you despite him not even leaving for the quest yet, LMFAO. he only releases his grip on you when your index fingers are the last thing touching.

but when he comes back, his affection for you is on full blast. like i'm talking shrieks of excitement when he finally sees you, which attracts the attention of some nearby campers but he couldn’t care less as he runs over, nearly colliding into you with his hug.

• percy has a unique way of hugging that leaves you feeling entirely enveloped in his warm embrace. when he hugs you, your entire torso is engulfed, and your face is pressed against his chest. his arm wraps around your waist, almost entirely covering it. his other hand, calloused yet gentle, cradles the base of your head, holding you close to his chest or neck, and the scent of seawater and his cologne fills your senses.

• matching bracelets type of love!! one day, you two were strolling around manhattan and came across one of those cheap, diy jewelry kits for 10% off. you know, the kind that's meant for little kids and not demigod teenagers? yeah, that kind.

but percy bought it for you anyway, and you guys spent the remainder of the day crafting matching jewelry for each other! yeah, it did get frustrating sometimes, (you always have to tie the end of percy's bracelet/necklace for him because for some reason he's completely incapable of doing it himself.) but you two laugh and tease each other the whole time and it's just really sweet.

percy made you a blue bracelet with a little trident charm in the middle, and you made him one with your signature color theme and your initials on the beads!! both of you wear them around camp proudly, and the beads make a jingling sound whenever you hold hands with him.

(+ he runs his fingers over the bracelet you made for him whenever he starts to miss you.)

• hands intertwined all the time!! he's developed such a habit for it that whenever you're together, he automatically reaches for your hand. whether you're walking around camp, sitting on the couch, or even sleeping, holding your hand is so ingrained in his mind that he doesn't even think about it.

percy loves feeling the difference between your palm and his, whether yours is softer, calloused, coarser, etc. he also loves playing with any rings you wear, twisting them around your finger or rearranging them.

• cabin sleepovers are an absolute must. you have them once every few weeks — and would have them more often if it weren't for the harpies.

not only does he love spending time with you in his cabin, but also he just sleeps more peacefully around you.

percy likes to rest with his chin nestled in the curve of your shoulder. you've grown accustomed to the feeling of his warm breath against your skin and the weight of his head against your collarbone — which he leaves lazy kisses on before he falls asleep. only when his eyelashes brush against your neck, fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater, can he relax and feel safe, warm, and loved enough to fall asleep.

• percy jackson is the type of boyfriend who leaves his clothes out on purpose for you to wear. he pretends not to notice that the hoodies he lends you never return to his closet. but he doesn't really mind because he loves seeing you in them.

• staring is a percy thing. even if he tries to hide his gaze every once in a while, you still manage to catch him sitting across from you with a lovesick smile, his eyes trailing over your face taking in every feature as if it was his first time seeing you.

when his eyes finally catch yours, he quickly looks away, but he can't resist glancing back at you a moment later because like, how could he not?? and with his confidence building up, soon enough he whispers, “c'mere and give me a kiss, yeah?”

• percy always tries to be creative when it comes to dates because they're kinda limited at camp. while you've experimented with various activities such as training, picnics, and swimming, your favorite pastime is strawberry picking. you two spend the day in the fields, picking the sweetest strawberries you ever had which later turned into refreshing strawberry smoothies.

but he's so particular about what strawberries he picks. you'll go to pick one with a little bruise and he'll whip his head around so fast like??? it's not that serious percy.

• percy does his best to learn everything about you, from the things you love to the things that you hate. if you hate bugs, he'll get rid of them all for you, (but he puts them somewhere safe because he's a sweetheart.) he'll speak for you in public if you're not comfortable in social situations, and he'll lead you through large crowds if you hate them. he's always learning and paying attention to the things you like, dislike, love, and hate so that he always brings a smile to your face.

he'll go out of his way to learn your favorite songs so he always knows which ones to play during long car rides, he knows how you like your coffee, and he has your entire takeout order memorized!!

• percy's love for you is so evident, there may as well be hearts in his eyes. he thinks you're the absolute prettiest, and nothing can change his mind. you two are perfect together, and the whole camp knows it.

a/n

this was supposed to come out earlier but my peanut allergy got provoked, but fuck it, we ball. 💪💪 (malnourished, heavy eye bags, weeping, hysterically shrieking, dehydrated, and on the verge of insanity.)

xx val

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x you #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x y/n #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #hoo x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x yn #percy jackson fluff #pjo imagine #riordanverse x reader

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

Could you do Daddy kink König x fem reader pls 🙏👉👈

König w/ a Daddy Kink

Warnings: 18+, Daddy Kink, Dominant König, Breeding Kink, Forced Breeding Kink, Consensual Non-Con/Dub-Con Kink (König would never force himself on you; he loves you very much and everything you do together is explicitly consensual), Somnophilia, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Submissive Reader, Fem Reader, Spanking, Discipline, Punishment, Petnames, Pussy Slapping, Plugging, Sadism, König’s dick is H U G E, Profanity, Fluff, etc.

DADDY KONIG AAAAAAAHHHHHH

Okay, Dom König absolutely has a daddy kink.

And you realised it by accident when you screamed “Daddy!” as he made you cum.

Body riddled with the ebbing of your orgasm, heaving chest flush against König’s, you lolled against him, perfectly oblivious to what you’d unearthed in König.

“What was that, Engel?” König said, panting, twitching, head tilting as he looked down at you.

You could barely talk, nevermind move.

When you didn’t answer, still panting heavily, König took your face in his hand, gripping your jaw, making you wince.

“Don’t test my patience, Engel.” His voice was low and rasping with lust. “I’m sure you don’t want me to pound you again. Not while you’re so…” He pressed his fingers against the bruised, sensitive skin of your lips.

You yelped, back arching, pushing you further into König’s chest.

“I…I called you…” Your gaze fell from his sharp eyes, drifting off to the side, shame obscuring your confidence and rendering you incapable of facing him.

“Go on,” König encouraged. “Say it.”

“Daddy…”

König shivered, his skin breaking out into goosebumps. He sucked in a hiss between his teeth, and, slowly, ground his half-hard cock against your aching flower. You whined. König growled.

“Mmmh, Darling,” his breath shuttered, “such a good girl.”

König rubbed against your clit, making you moan - cry - against him.

“M’gonna fuck you so hard ‘til–”

He groaned, his tip catching your lips. God, so tempting - so inviting.

“‘Til you make me a daddy.”

Expect many thorough breeding sessions after this.

Literally just König filling you until you look and feel like you’re about to burst, only for him to plug you and make you keep his seed inside you.

“Pull it out and I’ll keep going until you actually pop.”

Definitely into somnophilia.

Will wake up at an odd hour of the morning with a raging hard-on and will just feed his length into your pussy, feeling you squeeze him while you sleep.

“Gonna fill you up, Baby,” he’d whisper in your ear, giving a low moan when you shift in your sleep and invite him deeper.

If you wake up during this and tell König to: “Nnng, stop - please, don’t–”

You’re just gonna make him cum harder, draw him to his end quicker.

That being said, he has a slight (massive) dub-con kink.

Also, consensual forced breeding kink.

“N-no! Please, Daddy, I don’t wanna get pregnant–”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” König hissed, his cock bulging in your stomach, his hands pinning your wrists above your head.

“I’ll breed you as much as I like; m’gonna make sure you never leave this house again–” he moaned as he felt himself succumbing to his release, his member twitching. “So beautiful – you’re gonna look so pretty, swollen with my offspring.”

Well, given you actually want to bring a child into the world, of course.

If not, you and König can simply pretend, still indulging König’s daddy kink at every given opportunity.

König refuses to let you refer to him by anything other than ‘Daddy’ when he’s in the mood - failure to do so results in some serious pussy slapping.

Doesn’t matter how sensitive you are; he’s going to make sure you remember to call him Daddy next time.

The same goes for if you start being bratty.

König’s kink is not an invitation for you to start acting fussy.

“Oh, it’s too big?” he said, his eyes wide – mirroring and mocking your expression – inching his cock inside you, stretching you over him.

You whined, scowling, eyes doe and glistening.

“Daddy, it hurts!” you squealed. “Take it out, please–”

“Shh, Princess. Don’t make me angry.” König said, his eyes darkening. “Or I’ll make it hurt more.”

Definitely into discipline and spanking.

Will sometimes do it even if you haven’t warranted it.

Slaps your backside and thighs with his belt, breath quivering when he hears the sound of leather against skin, sees the red marks across your body.

And when a wide-eyed, confused expression crosses your face, he just smiles cruelly down at you.

“Shouldn’t be walking around with that tight little ass if you didn’t want me to hit it.”

In more ways than one *wink*.

Outside of the bedroom, calling König ‘Daddy’ is a proven way to get him to do anything for you.

Just bat your eyelashes at him and say in your softest voice: “Daddyyy, the cookie jar’s too far away; will you get it for me?”

And he’s DONE.

“Of course, Princess. Anything for you.”

He’s just so whipped for you.

Looks at you like you’re the Universe and all its celestial creations.

Tends to your every need, without question or hesitation.

Literally will not rest until all your needs are met and surpassed.

Sit in his lap, PLEASE.

He’ll literally just die in his seat if you do. Regardless of how dominant König’s feeling, he’s still vulnerable to your gentle advances.

And just vulnerable to you, to be honest.

But love will do that to a person, and König, a man whose profession made him think he was forced never to feel love himself, has never wanted to protect something - or someone - more.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

#konig x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig headcanons #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig smut #könig smut #könig x reader #könig x you #könig mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 #mw2 headcanons #mw2 x you

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its-time-to-write · 1 year

Text

three times ‘cause i’ve waited my whole life

I am apparently incapable of writing anything short. This has no plot. I think the only warnings are like swearing and innuendo. It is literally just Jamie and the reader being in love. I cannot stress enough how little plot this has. Enjoy.

three times ‘cause I’ve waited my whole life It’s one of Richmond’s biggest games. They’re facing Man City on their turf, an away game, and it’s a big deal.

It’s not important in that it really matters to their status in the premier league, but important because it’s Man City. Jamie has thrown himself completely into training, so you rarely see him except to eat dinner and then fall asleep, his arms around your waist as you watch tv, fingers combing through his hair. He’s awake before you are, but as soon as you hear him switch on the bathroom light, you make your way downstairs to make him breakfast. The team nutritionist had a strict diet for him, one modified by Roy to account for all the extra training. You rub sleep from your eyes as you brew a pot of tea, waiting for Jamie to come downstairs.

Arms snake around you as you wait at the stove for the tea.“You don’t have to do this,” Jamie says, kissing your neck. You smile and reach back to him.

“I know,” you reply, “It’s just the only time I really get to see you.”

Jamie pulls away and turns you around. You see that he’s frowning.

“I haven’t been a good boyfriend recently, have I?” he asks.

You smile, lacing your arms around his neck. “Jamie. This is just a part of life. You have a big game, you disappear for a while, I miss you and I adjust. You finish, win or lose, and we’re back. I knew what I was signing up for.”

He puts his hands on your wrists. “Yeah, but, like, we’re supposed to be talking to each other and shit. And I’m so tired all the time that I can’t think of anything to say. I also’ve been a shit listener. Can’t even remember what we talked about yesterday.”

You sigh, move his hands back to your waist, and then reach up to smooth the furrow in his brow.

“Remember when I had all that extra work last month and ended up working 60 hours a week because of everything that had to be done? I was up late every night, and all you did was bring me food and kiss me, then you left me alone. I think the longest we were together was when you let me sit with my legs on your lap for two hours. I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Yeah but-”

You cut him off: “Jamie. It’s just life right now. It’s not forever. It’s ok.”

He looks like he has more to say, but is interrupted by the kettle whistling. You give him a quick kiss and then point to his breakfast on the counter. You sit on the kitchen island while he eats, with your head on his shoulder until Roy comes.

—

Here’s the thing; no one knows you and Jamie are together. Sure, Roy knows. But Jamie loves Roy. Keeley knows. But Jamie said you’d love Keeley. (You did). Ted and Beard know, but only because they saw you two walking around the Richmond green late, late at night. (What they were doing on the Richmond green that late is beyond you, but hey). It wasn’t long after that that Jamie put a picture of you two up in his locker, so then all of AFC Richmond knew. But you weren’t public public. You had yet to show up in a tabloid or be seen with Jamie at a game or public event. You went to his games, absolutely, but you stayed in the stands, not the box.

He always got you a spot as close to the field as possible, but you would always meet up with Keeley and Rebecca after games to rendezvous somewhere else later.

You don’t mind. It doesn’t feel like Jamie is ashamed of you, especially because the people he cares about know. But you also know that you can handle it, and if he wants to go public and kiss you in the stands after a win, you would be ok with that. (You might be more than ok with that).

But as it is, no one knows about you. He knows where you stand on it, so the ball’s in his court. It’s been a year of this, but you just wonder how long it’s going to last.

—

Finally, finally it’s the week of the game. You had been staying in Manchester with Jamie’s mum, which was absolutely terrifying at first. It was not your first time meeting her, just your first time staying with her without Jamie present. You left a day before the team, so when they arrived Jamie sneaked away to come visit. You are sitting in comfortable silence on his mum’s porch looking up at the night sky, when he turns to you and says, “do you love me?”

You’re taken a little aback. “What kind of question is that?” you say. “Of course I love you.”

Jamie’s forehead is all scrunched up again, like it was that early morning. “What if I fucked my leg so badly I could never play football again?”

You laugh. “Not sure if you’ve noticed babe, but I’m not really a big football person. I’m more of a you person, so I guess there’s some overlap.”

Jamie is still weirdly nervous. “What if I play football till I’m forty, and you barely see me like it’s been? What if I’m always on the road and always training and all we get are dinners and shitty 3am breakfasts?”

He’s removed his arm from your shoulders at this point and you shiver, puffing out a breath into the cold air. He notices without saying a word and drapes his jacket around you.

“Jamie,” you reply slowly, trying to formulate your thoughts, “where is this all coming from? You know I love you. We’ve been together for a year, and this has never been an issue before.” As you’re speaking, you’re seized by a sudden, terrible thought: “Are you breaking up with me?”

The words tumble out so fast, you’re not sure he hears you until he’s looking at you, aghast.

“No, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” you reply. “But you’re acting all weird, and we’ve been together for an entire year and that’s the longest you’ve dated anyone and I just thought that maybe this was your way of letting me know gently that you’re over me.”

Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest.

Jamie breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh. No. I’m not ending things. I want to be with you forever. I just get all freaked out in me head before games like this, and it’s been fuckin weird coming home, and I just want to win, you know, so that way all this time away is worth it.” He pulls you close to him again and you can feel his heartbeat slowing down to a normal pace, in sync with your own.

You sit there till his mum comes out to remind him that it’s time to go get some rest, and it’s not until you’re half asleep in Jamie’s childhood bed that your mind replays his words:

I want to be with you forever.

—

It’s game day. You send Jamie a quick love you! text and then slip into your Jamie Tartt jersey. It’s from one of his old kits so it’s a little worn, but you always put it into his laundry pile so it comes out of the wash smelling like him. It’s not something anyone would notice, but you know, and it makes you smile. You get to be in the stands and know that Jamie Tartt loves you and you love him, and at the end of the day he’s the one you get to hold. You give yourself a shake, and open your phone to figure out where you’re meeting Keeley.

—

“And Richmond wins, 3-2 with a smashing goal by number 9 himself, Jamie Tartt!”

You’re screaming and jumping in the stands, overwhelmed by the fact that we won, we won, we won! The Richmond team are piling onto each other, Dani on Isaac’s back, Sam and Jan Maas jumping up and down like kids. You lose sight of Jamie in the mix.

“Well Arlo, it looks like Richmond has once again, exceeded all of our low expectations.”

“That’s right Chris, all thanks to Jamie Tartt’s brilliant goal. Looks like he’s having a good time celebrating with the Richmond lads. Wonder what they’ll get up to tonight? But what’s this? It looks like Tartt has broken away from his teammates and is running to the stands! He’s stopped in front of a fan and it looks like he is kissing a very lucky Richmond fan full on the mouth!”

“Have you ever been so caught up in a moment that you’ve made out with a stranger, Arlo?”

“Can’t say that I have, Chris. Can’t say that I have.”

It all happens so fast, that you don’t even know how to process it. One moment you can’t find Jamie and the next he is leaping over the stands, catching you in his arms, and kissing you in front of the whole stadium as if no one else is around. When you finally pull away, breathless, he takes your hand and helps you hop over the wall onto the pitch. Not usually allowed, but you suppose they’ll let it slide for football’s golden boy. AFC Richmond has caught up to Jamie, and you’re all on the field, screaming your heads off out of the sheer joy of winning.

—

“You’re coming tonight, yeah?” Isaac asks you as you wait for Jamie by the team bus. It’s the day after the Man City game, and you’re back in Richmond with a plan to hit the town yet again, as though the night before wasn’t enough for them. (You actually wouldn’t know, because you were in a very nice hotel room with a certain striker).

“Yeah, you know the only reason we invited him anywhere is in the hopes that you’ll finally be able come along,” Colin adds.

Any story of Richmond’s win had a somewhat fuzzy picture attached of Jamie kissing you in the stands with some variation of the title “Tartt’s mystery girl.”

You laugh. “Yes, we’ll be there. It’ll be nice to actually be out and about with you guys. Family dinners are fun, but there’s more to life.”

Once you found out that Jamie’s whole team knew you existed, you made him invite them over for dinner once a month. It’s one of your favorite things, especially because they all bring food to share. When it’s warm you do pool parties and when it’s cold you play bracket uno. It was nice to meet Jamie’s family, whether he’ll admit that’s what they are or not.

“You ready, babe?” Jamie asks as he slings his arm around you.

“BYE TED!” you yell. “Ok. Now I’m ready.”

—

Sam closed his restaurant special for you all, and turned it into like a private club. You say like because it is, at its core, a restaurant. However, under Isaac’s supervision and creative design, he apparently has transformed Ola’s through rearranged furniture, dimmed lighting, and music into a place where AFC Richmond can celebrate their win without feeling crowded by strangers. You’re secretly grateful, because clubs are not really your scene. You’ll get all dressed up, sure, but you never know what to do with yourself once you’re there.

Speaking of getting dressed up, you were feeling yourself. You had a light blue mini dress, with an asymmetrical neckline and a single puffed sleeve. It was more a-line than bodycon, but hey. You like a little bit of a twirl when you spin. Your absolute favorite part though was that you were wearing two-inch silver block heels, with straps around your ankles. The dress plus the shoes made your legs look magical.

You and Jamie are in the bathroom getting ready, you fixing your makeup and him fixing his hair. He half-turns to you and points to his hair with a questioning look. “Lookin’ good,” you smile, and he smiles back.

“Oh, babe,” he says, tweaking his hair one final time, “I left my sunglasses back at the locker room, and I was wonderin’ if you’d be ok getting them with me before we head to the party? I just don’t want Bumbercatch stealing them.”

“Why would Bumbercatch steal them?” you ask.

Jamie shrugs. “Something about ‘no name, fair game.’ That’s how Jan Maas lost his favorite socks.”

You shudder. Why Bumbercatch would want Jan Maas’ dirty old socks, you have no idea. They must be really amazing.

You reply, “Yeah sure, I hate being too early to things anyway,” as Jamie absentmindedly kisses you on the forehead with a “thanks babe,” as he heads downstairs.

—

You don’t live far from the Richmond pitch, so you’re walking across the dark parking lot in no time.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Jamie says.

He’s swinging your hands as you walk. He looks nice, the sleeves of his cream shirt rolled up. Nice pants, nice shoes. Nice ass.

“Yeah, of course,” you say, momentarily distracted by the fact that this man is going to get laid tonight.

“No, I mean you’re always down for what-fuckin-ever, and you just let things bounce off you. And you like me, for my personality for some fucking reason? And I think about you all the time, when I’m gone or when, like, I have early training with Roy. And you make laugh because you stopped being afraid to be yourself around me. I just like you. And I meant what I said the other day, I do want to be with you forever. Not to freak you out or whatever.”

He’s stopped right at the doors and he looks so uncomfortable and earnest in a way that you’ve never seen before.

“I’m not freaked out, Jaim,” you say. “I love you, and you know I’m in it to win it with you. Now, let’s get those sunglasses and for the love of god, please don’t act this weird tonight.”

This elicits a chuckle, and he nods in concession. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The halls are dark and quiet as you walk to the Richmond locker room. It smells clean, for once. Like lavender. There’s a faint glow coming from the doors and Jamie pushes open the doors to the most magical thing you have ever seen.

There are candles on the benches and twinkle lights strung across the lockers. There’s a bouquet of flowers in the middle of the room and as you turn to Jamie, awestuck look on your face, you see him kneeling behind you, small black box in hand.

“Jamie,” you say.

“Yes, love,” he replies.

“What are you doing.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it comes out more wobbly than you’d care to admit.

He cracks a smile. “Eh, I hope it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing.”

You can feel a fucking tear forming in your eye and you will it to go away. You refuse to have streaky foundation.

“Love of my life,” Jamie begins.

“Yes,” you say.

“Oi, you’ve gotta let me finish.”

“Right, sorry, as you were.” You think your face is going to split in half with the size of your smile.

He takes a breath then continues, “there’s no one else I’d rather have shitty 3am breakfasts with, no one else I’d rather beat at MarioKart, and no one else I’d rather do life with. Will you m-”

He’s cut of by you kissing him like you have never kissed him before. After a moment, he pulls away and asks, “Is that a yes?”

You can’t help it, the furrow in his brow gets you every time so you laugh and reply, “Of course it’s a yes, you dummy!”

Jamie smiles and then yells, “Lads, she said yes!” and the blinds go up from the coaches office as the entire AFC Richmond team storms into the locker room. Dani and Richard are spraying champagne in the air as people hug you and slap Jamie on the back.

You find his hand amid the chaos and squeeze it.

“Can’t believe I were so nervous about this,” he says into your ear.

“Can’t believe you think you beat me at MarioKart,” you respond.

“Oi, we are not getting into this again-”

“There’s only one way to settle this.”

Jamie looks at you, then to all your friends celebrating, then back to you. “Think they’ll even notice we’re gone?”

You shake my head. “Nah,” you say, “let’s get out of here.”

Jamie smiles at me as you slip through six different lynx scents out the door. “You’re going down, Mrs. Tartt.”

“Only one of us is going down tonight, Mr. Tartt, and I can assure you it is not me!”

“You can say that again.” Jamie sticks out his tongue and wiggles his eyebrows at you, and your laughter echoes up into the night sky.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 months

Text

me getting into a new character: how neurodivergent am i allowed to go

cw: fluff + a few mild horny thoughts

Rafayel has this little quirk where he's practically incapable of acting like a normal boyfriend. Or a normal person, honestly. Where other people would just take your hand walking down the street, he holds it out with a too-happy, beaming grin so that he can see you take it yourself. Where other people would just sit down at a fancy restaurant, he makes mock offended noises if you try to sit before he can make a big show of pulling your chair out for you.

Where other people would kiss you, he likes biting.

"I'm thinking," he muses, nibbling on your earlobe, "what about a diamond necklace?"

You sigh, burrowing yourself further into him, back against his chest. You're quite comfortable, and you could even fall asleep if it wasn't for his constant yammering. "No."

"Come on," he complains, sinking his teeth into your cheek this time. You let out a brief sound of exasperation, trying to bat at him, but he remains steadfast, tongue poking out to soothe the minor indent he leaves into your skin. "How'm I supposed to prove myself if you won't let me?"

"How would you buying me a diamond necklace prove anything?"

One of his hands slips under your shirt, resting right under your chest. His fingers knead whatever they get in contact with—it's not painful, actually it feels pretty good, not that you'd ever admit it to him. Though you suppose, turning around in his hold and silently indicating to him to pull you closer may just be admitting exactly that.

"It'd prove I'm not cheap, for one thing. I'd be able to tell everyone, whatever my girlfriend wants, she gets! You're so strange, not wanting anything. Do you even know how rich I am?"

"Tell you what," you mumble, burying your face in his neck and completely melting in his arms as soon as his comforting scent fills your senses, "you buy me a quesadilla tomorrow and I'll tell everyone you're practically my sugar daddy."

Rafayel scoffs. "Like anyone would ever believe you were a sugar baby. You don't have the constitution for it."

That might be a new lead in the top ten strangest insults you've ever heard from him. Shooting a small glare up his way, you bite back, "Are you going to let me sleep or are you gonna keep talking?"

"Keep talking," he answers without hesitation, then barrels forward before you can protest. "Hmm, maybe I should just fill my place up with amenities for you. Cheese plates in the kitchen. Exfoliators in the bathroom. A butler to take your coat."

The ridiculous idea of him hiring a butler just so someone could occasionally take your coat from you when you come over makes you laugh, which in turn puts a pleased smile on his face and accidentally encourages him to continue.

"What's that kids' movie you like? Twelve Dancing Princesses? What if I just repaint this room with the floor design from that?"

Now hang on. This one actually interests you, the idea of playing out your childhood fantasies out by dancing around in Rafayel's room. If you asked, you're sure he'd hire someone to replicate the same dress the main character from that movie wears too. "Wouldn't that be embarrassing? Anyone who comes here would see it."

"Yeah, something tells Thomas won't care. And if anyone else does come here, they'll probably write a boringly long article meant to flatter me. Renowned artist is super nice and generous to his childish girlfriend—"

"Says the guy who cried during Island Princess," you fire back, "also, it's nice to know you're only trying to spoil me for acclaim."

"Hello? Did you miss the part where I said boringly long? I'm trying to spoil you because I want you to spend my money."

"Why? It turns you on or something?"

"Maybe," he grins, pretending to lean in to kiss you, then sinking his teeth into your cheek once more the second you purse your lips to meet him halfway. With a quiet growl, you kick at his feet, and he only laughs against your skin. "Come oooon, I'm serious. Tell me at least one expensive thing I can get you."

Finally, you open your eyes, looking up at him with all your sincerest conviction. "Raf. If you wanna ruin your reputation and renovate your floor into the Twelve Dancing Princesses one just to prove a point, go for it. But I'm warning you, I'm gonna have to give you the best head of your life if you do that."

Rafayel groans, the hand that's not up your shirt tangling into your hair. "Don't tell me that, you're gonna force me to be selfless and turn it down. This isn't transactional. I give you my card and tell you to go wild, and then you just do it. Nothing in return."

Ah, yes, the Raf classic. Say the sweetest possible thing in the most irritating way he possibly can. Well, two can play at that game.

"If you give me your card and expect nothing in return, I'm going to strictly buy paint supplies in all your favorite brands, all your favorite colors—"

"I don't have favorite colors—"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, you press on. "And your weak attempt to spoil me will fall flat because not only will I only buy things you like, but I'll wire you the entire amount of what I spend the next day."

He lets out a dramatic half-whine, shaking you a little. "Man, you're so embarrassing!" Tugging you closer, he drowns out your complaints with his own protests. "So clingy, stop getting so close to me! Oh my god," he moans, holding your hand tighter the more you try to fight him and pull back, "get away from me, stalker. Let go!"

"Holy shit, you're so annoying—"

"And you're so obsessed with me, it's concerning."

For once, you're the one pouting at him. "I'm trying to sleep. You're really warm. Can you please push my limits later?"

An affectionate smile lights up his face. "Yeah, okay. As long as you agree tomebuyingyouapradabag."

"No."

Rafayel snorts, tucking his face into your hair. "And you think you could handle being a sugar baby."

#love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel #valkyrie stories

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binsito · 9 months

Text

tired

pairing: lee felix x fem reader

genre: bff!felix, pining, angst

word count: 2.4k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, mentions of fingering and f receiving oral, it's pretty vanilla just kinda angsty, petnames like "baby", "pretty boy", and "princess" are used, felix is ur bff that's in love with you and you have horrible dating experiences with shitty people

felix was tired of having to wipe your tears.

was tired of having to listen to you talk in extensive detail over how shitty the guys you've dated have been.

how they hurt you, how they toss you aside and make you feel little.

was tired of having to pick up the pieces of your broken heart, patching them back into place only for you to go and get it torn right out of your chest all over again.

he was absolutely sick of it.

but most of all he was sick of you telling him how your lovers always fell short.

how the sex was mediocre, how they left you high and dry, chasing their own pleasure and leaving you hanging - utterly unfulfilled and upset.

he was sick of you telling him how many orgasms you've faked, how many times you've lied about how big their cock was in hopes that maybe that would push them to fuck you harder.

how they never knew where your clit was, always rubbing the skin next to it painfully hard or rubbing your folds - never where you needed them the most.

felix would never do you like that.

he wouldn't dream of giving you frustrating, god awful, pathetic sex.

felix wanted nothing more than to pull orgasm after orgasm from you, lapping your sweet cream with his tongue, dying to taste you, to have you shake under him.

he wanted to let you use him, he wanted to be a toy for you, for you to mount him and get off on him. he wanted to be good for you, to take whatever you gave him, to have you cum around his cock while he looked up at you with bleary eyes.

was that too much to ask for?

it was all he ever wanted..

he would never hurt you, would never leave you, would never make you feel worthless.

he wanted you to be his princess, he wanted you to only look at him and not those lazy excuses of a partner.

but he was just your best friend.

and you would never look at him that way.

"thank you for picking me up lix.." you said softly, breaking him out of his thoughts

you had called him to come pick you up from some guy's house, felix already knew that the guy had disappointed you in one way or another but he didn't say anything.

this was routine.

"i-i'm sorry for calling you so late.. he just didn't seem like he wanted me to stay the night so.. i felt weird asking if i could.." he just nodded, not wanting to say anything for fear of saying something brash.

"is it.. alright if you just take me back to yours? i would feel so bad if you drove all the way back to my apartment.." "s'fine yeah? you know i'd never say no to you.." he mumbled

and that was true.

he was physically incapable of telling you no, no matter how hard he tried. you could ask him to wrestle a bear for you and he would do it, no questions asked.

the rest of the ride back to his place was quiet, he didn't even bother turning the radio on. he just wanted to lay in bed, hoping you would spare him the details of your encounter because he feared he would go ballistic, could potentially show up at that guys place and fuck him up if he had done anything to you.

you took the right side of the bed, that was your spot. felix was very particular about what side was whose, you always thought it was funny. you didn't care much for sides, especially if you were drunk or super exhausted, any side was a good side.

he laid there, back towards you while you stared up at the ceiling. he could tell you were going to have trouble sleeping tonight. you barely slept if you had a mind full of racing thoughts. normally he would curl up into your sides or have you fall asleep on his chest but he was also spent.

tired.

tired of the constant back and forth. of always being the one waiting for you at the end of the tunnel.

tired of having to be strong for you, so you had someone to lean on when things went to shit.

"i-is there.. something wrong with me?"

oh god.

he could hear the tears in your voice.

shit.

"what? no, fuck no." he's quick to answer. "why would there be anything wrong with you?.." "then why does this always happen?.."

"because shitty guys tend to take advantage of sweet and beautiful girls like you.."

"i-im not-" "yes, you are.. you're the prettiest girl i know and trust me, i fucking hate seeing you like this.." his voice was soft yet stern, hoping the words would stick with you.

you were pretty.

prettier than any flower he's every picked, prettier than any sunset he's ever seen, prettier than any star he's ever counted.

and he's counted a lot.

trying hard to find you in a galaxy far away but never coming close.

always just too out of reach.

maybe he'd be a little more lucky in a different lifetime.

"i-i'm sorry lix.. i must be so annoying.. always asking you for help whenever i do something stupid.." "i love you.. that's what i'm here for.." he loved you.

his body was screaming for you to realize the weight of his words.

i love you, i love you, i love you!

"i love you too lix.."

but not in the way i love you, right?

of course not.

you both fall quiet but the room felt so loud, so unbearably loud. like the walls were laughing at you both, pointing and mocking.

felix shut his eyes, not wanting to feel anything anymore and hoping to fall asleep right away.

he was hoping you'd follow suit, that you would just go to bed after this and you two could carry on like you always did.

"i just wish i could find someone like you.. i wish i could just date you instead of wasting my time over and over again.."

felix wished you never said that.

that you had just let this go and had just gone to bed.

and part of him was so angry because couldn't you see how hard he tried for you? how incredibly lovesick he was?

"you should just go to bed." he spoke, not meaning to sound so cold. you obviously picked up on his tone.

"lix i'm sorry that was weird right?-"

"no, but it pissed me off because yeah.. wouldn't it have saved you all the trouble if you just dated me?" "lixie i didn't mean to-" "didn't mean to upset me, i get it. but i'm gonna be upset regardless because i've been going through this with you for far too long and i am just so.. fucking.. tired.

when i say i love you, i'm not just saying it because i feel like it or because you're my best friend.. i'm saying it because i fucking love you and i'm dying for you to just pick me for once.."

you felt so little at this moment.

so, so stupid.

the crazy thing was, you knew how he felt but you always just pushed it aside as nothing. that maybe you were reading into the way he liked holding your hand too much. that you were crazy to ever think your best friend could feel something more for you than just platonic friendship.

you opened your mouth to speak but ultimately fell silent.

how would you even answer? what could you even possibly say?

he figured he fucked up, about to turn away again and pretend he didn't just say the craziest shit ever. god, he wished he could just vanish.

"lix.. please don't be mad at me.. i-i'm sorry.."

if there was something you hated more than the guys you've slept with, it's feeling like you hurt felix.

"just stop apologizing please-"

"no.. you can't just say you love me and then try pushing me away.." you spoke, trying to keep your voice from faltering or sounding weak.

"i don't want to complicate things.."

"but you already did, felix."

he decided it would be best if he just slept on the couch tonight, sitting up and scooting towards the edge of the bed. your hand quickly coming over to grab his arm

"felix, please. don't leave.. we both need to stop being reckless.. you can't keep hiding your feelings and i can't keep making bad choices.. it's so bad for us." you spoke softly, your touch burning through him.

he couldn't resist you, he always sought out your warmth and soft skin.

"wouldn't dating your best friend be a bad choice?"

you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh at that.

"no.. because i know you're a good person.. you've been patient with me and i know that this might be the only good choice i'll ever make."

now he was the one trying to find words and failing to come up with a response.

but there didn't need to be any more words exchanged, you tugged him towards you and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

both of your hearts thumping nervously in your chest. it felt different but right. it was like learning to swim, you were afraid of drowning but felix was there to hold you up, kissing you back once he realized he didn't give a fuck anymore.

he loved you and he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to show you that he could love you just as you deserved.

it felt like the whole world was fast asleep while the two of you hastily took your clothes off. all of it strewn on the floor, bodies bare, radiating heat and harboring so many new feelings.

felix lived alone so there was no need for you to be as quiet as you were but it almost felt better this way.

you couldn't quite remember how it had escalated to this point.

maybe it was when felix let out a needy whimper against your lips or when you pulled him in close by his hair. he was so pliant, so ready to give.

you both knew you wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight anyways, so once it had gotten to this point, you both welcomed it.

"lix it's okay.." you whispered, you could see him contemplating going any further, like he was guilty about doing this.

you cupped his face and kissed his forehead softly

"i trust you..it's okay lixie.."

you trust him.

his heart felt like it could burst.

you trust him.

you trust him enough to let him have you like this, to make you feel good, to treat you well.

he wasn't going to disappoint.

he didn't care if he got to finish after this or not, his one goal in mind is to finally do all the things he'd dreamt of doing to you.

he was more worried about making sure you'd cum and were left satisfied. he let you know in advanced that he wasn't one to get embarrassed if you guided his hand or told him how to touch. he wanted to know, was eager to learn what made your toes curl.

two fingers deep inside you while his pretty lips worked diligently on your clit. your breathy moans would be engraved in his memory after this.

"oh god.. lixie.. just like that baby.." hands tangled in his long hair.

baby.

it's like you knew exactly what to say to make him crazy.

"shit.. lixie.. can't anymore.. gotta have you.." you sighed out, eyes shut tightly, your stomach coiling at the arising orgasm he was pulling from you. he pulled back and looked down at your cunt, it was basically screaming his name, fluttering around nothing, begging him to just finally breach your hole and make it his.

you wanted to cum on him, wanted to have him inside and hold him close.

he knew he was a dead man as soon as he lined up and pressed in, holding your hands gently and letting out a relieved exhale. it felt so much better than he had ever imagined, sucking him in like your cunt was made for him.

"g-god i'm not sure i'll last very long.." he chuckled

you smiled up at him and he kissed you just as he started to move gently, pacing himself in hopes of drawing this out as long as he could but in all honesty, he was dying to rut into you with all the force he could muster.

your arms wrapping around him as his forehead pressed against yours.

it was perfect.

he was perfect.

gentle and sweet, asking you if you were alright, telling you how much he loved you, how good you were taking his cock.

you could get used to this.

making love with felix.

you hated yourself for how long it took you to get here, how many heartaches and horrible exes you went through only to fall back into felix's arms time and time again.

this time you hoped to stay.

"i'm close lixie.. right there.." you whimpered, legs coming around his hips to cage him in.

he kept hitting your spot, pushing you to your peak, intensity bubbling in your tummy until it was just too much - snapping within you, your orgasm taking over all your senses.

felix cooed and sweet talked you through it, helping you ride it out as he let himself go as well, filling you with his own cum.

post nut clarity hitting him because he was so fucking worried this would ruin everything he's ever known.

he'd rather throw himself into ongoing traffic than to lose you, his best friend.

"lix.." you grabbed his face

"pretty boy.. you need to stop worrying so much.." pecking his lips gently to bring his attention back towards you.

"i promise i wanna try this with you.. i really do.. i want us to both be happy together.." he nodded and laid down on your chest, holding you close and shutting his eyes.

"i'll make you happy.. i won't let you cry anymore. i waited so long for you, princess.."

you smiled softly to yourself, playing with his hair and massaging his scalp.

you knew things would be alright for a change.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

#binsito #skz smut #stray kids smut #felix stray kids #stray kids felix #felix smut #lee felix smut #felix x reader smut #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix x reader smut #yongbok #lee yongbok #yongbok smut

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wildestdreamsblog · 10 months

Text

Latibule VI

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: never tell me I don’t love my readers when I’m here writing when I just got my heart broken hehehehe

Masterlist, Latibule V

You turned around when you heard a dull thump of mug hitting the wooden table, distracting you from looking at the stars. Suga was standing behind you with his own steaming cup of coffee, looking tiredly at you before taking a seat.

“Finally got him to sleep?”

He sighed before taking a sip from his coffee. He brushed his hair away from his face as he looked up at the stars. “Seriously, who needs bedtime stories in order to sleep?” He scoffed, remembering how Jackson insisted that he read him stories because, and he quoted, ‘Ahjussi has a deep, nice voice perfect for princes and monsters’.

See, he didn’t even know why he digressed, but that little child looked up at him expectantly that he found himself doing voices that made the child laughed. It was so out of character for him, the big, bad mafia. If his men saw him like that, they would surely thought he hit his head or something. Even he thought that he hit his head. Otherwise, why would he do all those things?

“Children, Suga,” you chuckled at his exhausted face before returning your gaze at the stars, of how they twinkled back at you, of how tragically beautiful they were. You never tired of looking at them night after night, committing them to memory, admiring them from afar. “Didn’t your parents read to you when you were a child?”

He chuckled tonelessly. His family wasn’t exactly…conventional. Hell, if he was raised with normal childhood where parents loved their kids, would he have turned out fine and not the fucked up man he was? The one who was incapable of love?

You looked at him as he looked up at the stars, his hands resting behind him, supporting his weight. The night was quiet, peaceful even. He looked so stoic, so tranquil that you thought he would never answered. After all, you practically knew nothing about him. For heaven’s sake, you had to name him because he refused to give you his name. Despite him existing in your life for months, you didn’t know any truth about him. He was always quick to dodge your questions, asking you questions of his own instead of answering. You didn’t expect him to tell you any of his truths.

This was also the reason why you convinced yourself not to look too much into what you felt, or how your heart seemed to calm when he was near…or how you felt like you were no longer alone for the first time since that tragedy that changed the trajectory of your life. This was all temporary, you kept telling yourself.

One day, he would leave and you would be alone again.

However much to your surprise, he finally answered. “My mother…used to sing lullabies to me every night,” his deep voice divulged, his eyes still trained to the stars you loved to look up to every night. This was the first time he talked about her, the first time he looked back on the nightmare that was his childhood. “She loved singing those French love songs,” he chuckled humorlessly, remembering how her voice calmed the young Yoongi.

“She’s probably worried about you right now…” you mused, thinking of how he had been gone from his normal life for months now. What parent would have not been worried, you thought.

He smirked before looking at you with emotionless eyes. “Why? She’s dead. And even if she’s alive, I don’t think she’s the kind to be worried.”

You frowned, surely that wasn’t the truth, you thought. “Suga-“

He leaned in, looking intensely at you, taking your space as though it was his. He placed his fingers under your chin, tilting your face to his liking. “She gave me this scar,” he whispered, his tone light like he was merely talking about the weather. “Daddy dearest made her choose. Her face-“ he tucked your stray hair behind your ear, his fingers touching your softly as though he wasn’t telling you his tragic childhood. “-or my eye. Guess which one she chose?”

Your lips trembled at what he said. You struggled to look at his eyes, your eyes shifting. What kind of twisted parents would hurt their child? What kind of demon would scar a helpless child? This close and you could see how deep the scar was and it pained you to think of the young Suga bleeding and crying as he clutched his eye.

“And now, I’m hideous,” he sneered, taking your silence as rejection, as disgust, as loathing. He was about to step back when you reached out and slowly, oh so slowly, traced his scar.

“Who told you that?” You asked softly, looking at his eyes with sincerity that it terrified him because no one had ever looked at him like that. You smiled at him, “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, Suga.”

He looked at you with wonder, his expression slowly relaxing. How could an angel such as you thought of him as beautiful? If…if you knew what he had done, what he was capable of doing, would you still willingly touch him?

Would you still call him beautiful?

Would you finally see him as the monster that he truly was?

You were about to pull away from him when he laid his hand on yours, unwilling to be separated from this feeling that he couldn’t name for how could he when he was never shown love? When he was never taught of love?

How could he knew he was falling for you when that emotion was foreign to him?

“I-is your father still alive?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice. He thought he would feel regret when he opened up about his past to you. Strangely, all he felt was peace. He felt lighter.

“Good,” you whispered, nodding your head. They didn’t deserve to still be in Suga’s life after the horrifying deeds they did to a defenseless child.

“Noona?”

You snapped out of the trance that you were in, quickly putting distance that Suga hated upon hearing Jackson. He was rubbing the sleep off of his eyes as he walked to where the two of you were. “I woke up from a nightmare. A monster was chasing me, ahjussi,” he said sadly, cheeks damped from his tears. He looked up at Suga with a pout, lifting his little arms expectantly. Yet Suga looked at him in confusion.

“What? W-what does he want, Angel?” He asked you, shifting his gaze from the young child to you as though he was asking for help.

“I think…he wants you to pick him up.”

He sighed before easily picking him up. The child was quick to wrap his arms around Suga’s broad shoulders, his chubby cheeks leaning on his shoulder. “I wasn’t scared, ahjussi! I knew you can fight the monsters,” he boasted sleepily.

Suga didn’t even notice himself smiling at the sentiment. Of course he would slay all the monsters…despite him being one. Once the two of you got him in bed, Suga was about to turn around and leave when he called for him, whining about wanting him to stay so he could slay his demons.

And in that moment, Suga looked at you for permission. He held your eyes captive, his eyes gently awaiting your decision. You nodded at him, and the three of you laid quietly. Jackson was fast asleep in between the two of you, the darkness of the night making it difficult for you to know whether Suga was sleeping. Yet, when you turned to look at him, he was already looking at you with his dark eyes, his body fully attuned to yours.

You turned to him, your hands under your head as you looked at him. “I’m glad you survived that,” you whispered truthfully, your eyes tracing his scarred one.

He looked as though he was contemplating. You thought he would never answer as he was only looking at you, but then he asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re here now.”

In that moment, he was convinced now more than ever that they never loved him. Because when you loved someone, you would never hurt them, you would never even entertain the thought of hurting them. No. When you love someone, you protect them. You cherished them. You would never, ever, lay your hands on them. Yoongi thought that he would rather die than hurt you.

“May I help you?” You asked the tall and broad shouldered man. You noticed him looking around the clinic, his back facing yours. He looked like he was at loss as to what to do.

He turned around slowly, his dark eyes focusing on yours as he took you in. You weren’t ready when you finally saw him. He looked like he could say that he was a movie star and you would completely believe him with no question asked. He could claim that he was a prince and you would say, ‘yep, that sounds right’.

In conclusion, his beauty was out of this world. And he looked like he was aware of it. He had this clean look in him, almost clinical in nature. His hair was neatly combed back, his long-sleeves folded to his elbow.

“I…” he started, his brows furrowed as he considered what and how he was going to say. “I lost my cat.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible!”

He scrunched his nose and thought whether losing Yoongi was really terrible. His life was way quieter without him. Did he really want to look for him, he thought. He looked like he was in deep contemplation. “It…is?”

Your head tilted to the side in confusion. Wasn’t it a terrible thing to have lost your own pet?

At your expression, he straightened and nodded his head solemnly, willing you to believe him. “Yes. It’s terrible. It is.”

“What did you say you lost?”

“Yoongi,” he whispered under his breath.

“What?”

“I meant- a cat. I lost a vicious cat. A dangerous one,” he stated, his voice strong. “It is imperative that I find him.”

You blinked at his statement, and then some more when he wouldn’t stop looking at you. “Do you want my help?”

Suga looked at the clinic’s secretary with a dull expression on his face. For weeks since he started working at that diner as a waiter slash guard when rowdy teenagers visited the diner with no intention to pay, he always picked you up from the clinic. It became your tradition to go home together. He would go to the clinic as soon as he finished his work, and you would be where he wanted you to be- in your office waiting for him.

So where the fuck were you now?

He had his arms crossed, his eyes trained on her despite her trembling form.

“She’s not here,” he repeated slowly, not liking the thought of not knowing where you were. It pissed him off. It unnerved him. It didn’t sit right with him.

“She left early with some guy…”

Min Yoongi had never felt that exceedingly terrifying feeling before. It gnawed at his bone, it punched his heart as his brain thought of million grotesque scenarios concerning you. Did his enemies find you? Did his enemies found out that he was fucking alive? Did they somehow get to you?

Did you now know who he truly was?

His hand curled into a tight fist as he felt darkness clung to his mind. Was this how his paradise end?

You eyed the man sitting on your sofa. You helped him looked all over the town to no avail, yet when you asked him if he had a picture of his pet so that the search would be easier, he claimed that he lost his phone early that day.

He was calmly sipping the coffee you made him, looking around your house with nonchalant observation. It was already dark outside and you kept on looking at the clock. You wondered where Suga was. It was hours past his shift and he still wasn’t home.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your cat.”

He smiled gently at you before softly placing the cup of coffee back on the table. You noticed that his movement was always refined, that he moved with an air of elegance as though he was born with a golden spoon.

“That’s fine,” he started, his voice deep and his eyes shone with intelligence like he knew something you didn’t. “He’ll come.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that when the front door slammed opened. Suga’s eyes seemed to appear darker than the usual, his form menacing. This was the first time you saw him resembled a wild predator. He seemed to appear unhinged, his look of bewilderment when he finally found you made you unconsciously stepped back as he neared you with heavy steps.

But you didn’t get far.

You would have fallen had it not been for his arms that wrapped around you tightly as though he would never let you go. You never knew how big he was until he had you plastered to him, his form completely enveloping you. This close and you could hear how hard his heart was beating, how it wanted to break free from the cage that was his ribs. This close and you could feel how his body was trembling with an emotion you didn’t know.

“S-Suga-“

“Never,” he growled, his dark hair cascading on his face making him looked more feral. He gently pushed you away, his hands on your shoulder as he made you looked at him with ferocity. He was taking you in, the alarm in his face hadn’t gone down an inch. But the moment he saw you, he looked as though a weight had been taken off his shoulder.

He had never felt as thankful to whatever deity or Gods that were out there than he did the moment he saw you alive, that you were still here in front of him, that he could still fucking hold you.

“Never, ever go somewhere without telling me first,” he growled at you with a dark look on his face . He was imposing and serious like you had never seen him before. “Never go somewhere where I cannot fucking follow-“

“Suga, please calm do-“

“Do you understand me, Angel?” He cut you off as he tilted your chin up, making you understood how fucking terrified he was, of how he would find any other answer unacceptable but your agreement. And when you finally nodded did he reluctantly let you out of his hands.

And only then did he notice the man sitting on the sofa with a smirk on his face.

“Hyung.”

- National Police Agency, South Korea -

Park Jimin was staring at his laptop unblinkingly. Ever since he found out who the traitor was, he was at loss with what to do. He was raised to value both the organization and family. And right now, he needed to choose between the two.

He couldn’t find the answer as to why he was able to do what he did. He couldn’t understand why he betrayed Yoongi when he protected them like they were his own brothers. Min Yoongi, as dangerous as that man was, took lashes for them. He would tell them to fuck off and then catch a bullet for them. He made the difficult decisions for them. He bled just so the seven of them could live.

Min Yoongi was the most loyal man he ever knew.

And so, how could that traitor do that to him?

“Detective Park.”

Jimin lifted his eyes to the man who called him. He was wearing his uniform, just having been temporarily promoted to Yoongi’s position. He was smiling like the sunshine he was perceived to be, yet behind those smiles lied something dangerous…something sinister.

“A word.”

He smiled at the traitor.

He smiled at Jung Hoseok.

Latibule VII

#bts yandere #bts fic #yandere bts #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #yandere min yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #mafia min yoongi #min yoongi yandere #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts mafia au

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dearsnow · 4 months

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Hey girly I was wondering if maybe you could do a part two of the orange peel theory because it was super cute but I need to see what two bit and Steve would do!

THE ORANGE PEEL THEORY PT. 2

in which you ask the greasers (and cherry) to complete simple, unassuming tasks that you can easily do yourself. (the outsiders x gn!reader, fluff)

a/n - sorry this is so short :( i’ve had zero time lately and couldn’t think of any more ideas for tim and curly, but if you really want them just lmk!!

“TWO-BIT, could you zip up my jacket? I’d really appreciate it.”

He looks at you, grinning. He’s so dopey in love that he’d kill a man if you asked, but he’s also not going to let you get away without at least a little teasing. He pretends to shrug, walking away with his hands in his pockets, before turning around and fumbling with your zipper.

“I mean, if you reeeallyyyy want me to…”

“I think there’s a leaf caught on my coat, STEVE. Would you get it for me, please?”

Steve is confused. You have perfectly good hands and perfectly good eyesight, so you asking this out of nowhere caught him off guard. He does it, of course, and brags about what a good boyfriend he is. He also gives you a little bit of loving shit for being “incapable”, but that’s just how he is- if you’re shocked, you’re dating the wrong man.

“Why? Have your fingers gone ta’ sleep or somethin’?”

“CHERRY, can you clip my necklace?”

You ask, turning towards her so she can see your predicament. You’ve never struggled with things like this in the past, but she knows that small acts of care can make you feel even more loved, so she’s happy to do it. She fastens your necklace and turns you back around so you can look at yourself in the mirror.

“There. You look wonderful.”

#solar eclipse.#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders hcs #two bit matthews x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews #steve randle x reader #the outsiders steve #steve randle #cherry valance x reader #cherry valance #sherri valance #the outsiders fandom #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders

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kokomyass · 5 months

Text

JJK headcannons ☆ Characters as Dads

JJK x Fem!Reader

Genre: ☁️

Trigger warnings ⚠️: none!!

featuring: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuji Itadori

synopsis: in which, the jjk men are given the real test of fathership

a/n: it seems that jjk won and we give the people what they want!

also, in this i’m just gonna do it so it is daughter because idk i just see them all having daughters yk?

i hope you guys enjoy, and happy new year too!! 💜🎵

Gojo would be such an immature dad. He would basically be another baby in the household, but that is what makes your daughter love him so much. He seems to love your daughter to PIECES and is always playing with her but when it comes to ACTUAL parenting tasks you best believe he is sitting out…only because he is incapable…

On the good side, he seems to be the perfect company for your daughter and whenever you get overwhelmed he subtly tries to help you out. Coming around and giving you hugs from behind to comfort you. Even though he doesn’t say it you can tell he doesn’t want to see his baby grow up.

“Sooo…do you want cucumbers in this sandwich or..? Gojo asked looking down at his daughter who looked at him with a look of disappointment.

Gojo was currently making his daughter a peanut and jelly sandwich, something he hadn’t even heard of before. Yet here he was making it like a chef…or so he thought..

“Dad…are you okay in the head? Who puts that together?” your daughter said with her hands on her hips looking sassy.

“Why you..!” Gojo picked up your daughter and threw her up and down making her giggle.

You walk past chuckling to yourself, watching your husband and daughter play together.

“Satoru, are you sure you can take care of her?” you knew the answer was probably no, but you trusted it wouldn’t be too bad.

“Of courseeee! You know I can! Plus our sweet sweet daughter will help me out! Right?”

“Of course, Dad!! We will have so much fun!” your daughter wrapped her arms around Gojo’s neck smushing her face into his as he hugged her back.

“Well if anything goes wrong let me know!” you give your daughter a soft peck on the cheek and press a soft kiss on Gojo’s lips before leaving.

At least they would have fun together even if Gojo couldn’t do anything properly.

Nanami is husband material and i think it is safe to assume he is also father material. This guy knows the ins and outs of parenting. If you saw how skillful he was changing your baby’s nappies…you would think he had done it a million times

Even though he may not be the most energetic dad his love for your daughter is evident…he lets her sleep on his chest while he is working, he makes her lunches, whenever you’re tired you don’t even have to ask because he can tell and he is already on it doing everything you would do. GET YOURSELVES A NANAMI!! 🙌🙌

“Dad!! Guess what?!” your daughter excitedly said jumping up and down by Nanami’s leg.

You had unfortunately fallen ill and even though you didn’t mention it once to Nanami, you knew he would notice so you took this time to nap on the chair in your living room.

“What is it,sweetheart?” Nanami smiled softly to his excited daughter as he cooked dinner whilst also making soup for you to drink later.

“In school today, the teacher asked what we liked about our dads! Can you guess what I said?” your daughter giggled as Nanami acted clueless as to what your daughter was saying

“I haven’t a clue…why don’t you tell me?”

“I said that you are the kindest, strongest, funnest dad ever and my dad is better than everyone else’s!” Nanami chuckled at his daughter’s words.

He paused his cooking to pick his daughter up.

“You really think all that about your me?” Nanami asked as your daughter played with his hair

“Of course Dad! I love you very very much!!” Your daughter gave Nanami a big kiss on his cheek as he smiled.

“I love you more, sweetheart.” Nanami said softly as he kissed her head.

Your heart melted as you couldn’t stop smiling at the scene in front of you.

Geto would literally banter with your daughter. Like if there is a day where your daughter and Geto don’t argue over something then they aren’t your husband and daughter…and it’s very obvious to see which personality your child took.

Despite the consistent arguments that they have, Geto is clearly extremely close with his daughter, they act like they are life long besties that are starting to get fed up with each other. Geto doesn’t seem to notice all the times that you see him lurking in your daughter’s room to make sure she is okay hehe….

“Ugh! Dad! That was my chocolate!” you suddenly heard your daughter shout, but you didn’t pay any attention to it as you knew it was your daughter and Geto up to their squabbles again.

“Hey…it wasn’t named how was i meant to know it was yours?” Geto smirked as your 5 year old folded her arms and smirked back.

“Well, father, if you remember yesterday, when we went shopping you bought it for me after I asked.” your daughter sassed back

“I’ll buy you another one…” Geto said as he sat down by you on the couch throwing his arms behind you.

“No. Share that one with me Dad, or I will tell mum what you did in the car two days ago!” your daughter stepped closer as Geto smirked.

“Why you little…c’mere…” Geto gestured your daughter over as she giggled and run over sitting on his lap and snatching the chocolate out of his hands.

“Um honey what happened in the car?” you asked folding your arms raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about it!” both your husband and daughter said in sync.

After some attacking, you smiled at your two favourite people as they continued to squabble….well you love them anyway…

Toji would acc treat your daughter like a princess. You think he treats you like a princess? Wait till your daughter comes along and steals the throne.

There is not one thing he wouldn’t do for your daughter, and you are worried she will turn into a spoiled brat because she loves taking advantage of how Toji treats her and can carry her with ease. However you are grateful because you know whenever you can’t spend time with your daughter, Toji can shower her in loads of love instead.

You had gone to pick up your daughter from school with your husband, Toji.

“Dad!! Mom!!” you heard a cute and excited voice as you saw your daughter running up to you and Toji.

“My little princess, how was school today?” Toji picked up your daughter with ease as she hugged him tightly

“It was so fun!! Although that boy kept pulling my hair and it hurt..” your daughter said pointing to the boy

You could see Toji scowl, and you knew there was no stopping him.

“Honey make sure you don’t traumatise them too much okay?” you give him a kiss and kiss your daughter’s forehead.

“Don’t worry doll, won’t do much, just give a lil warning that’s all…” you sighed hoping that’s all it would be.

“Okay, i’ll wait in the car.”

Toji walked over to the mother, father and boy with your daughter still in hand.

“I heard your son here is pestering my daughter?”

“Our little Timmy would never!” the dad replied before looking up and being absolutely frightened by the tall built man in front of him.

“Yeah, well i don’t give a damn. Pester my darling daughter again and you are dead.” Toji said before walking off, leaving the family stunned and frightened.

“Dad you are so cool! You always protect me!”

“And I always will pumpkin, now let’s go see your mom.” Toji chuckled as he kissed your daughter’s head.

Megumi would lowkey be jealous of your daughter when she gets more attention that him. Don’t get me wrong he would be in love with your daughter but sometimes if he ever sees you paying attention to your daughter and not giving him attention he would silently be sulking.

Luckily all he has to do is summon a demon dog to play with your daughter and she is occupied so he can spend time with you. Despite this slight jealously, Megumi showers your daughter in love, playing with her (even if it involves him role playing a princess) especially when you aren’t looking so you don’t call him soft.

“Ahhh, please save me knight in shining armour!” Megumi squealed the best he could in a girls voice.

Megumi had been forced by your daughter to play princess and knights as usual and Megumi thanked the Gods that you were in the bedroom getting ready for an outing.

“Dad!! You don’t sound girlish enough!” your daughter complained as Megumi sweat dropped.

“I’m trying my best honey…but okay…” Megumi was obviously worn out from this game but didn’t want to hurt your daughter’s feelings.

He began his feminine voice again but as soon as he heard your bedroom door open he shut up earning a shout from you.

Luckily your outfit distracted your daughter as she started squealing.

“Mom! You look like a princess! Your a much better princess than Dad!” you giggled as you were curious to see Princess Megumi.

You gave her a tight hug and peppered kisses around her face.

“Who bless me with such a sweet little girl”

Little did you know, Megumi was feeling jealous already.

“Hey sweetheart? Look it’s the demon dogs they want to play!” that quickly got your daughter’s attention as she began playing with them and having fun.

“Love you Dad!” your daughter shouted whilst being suffocated by the dogs.

“Love you too….have I told you how beautiful you look my dear?” Megumi smiled as he kissed you.

You smiled at Megumi’s jealousy but not complaining…

Yuji definitely bought like 10 parenting books because he was so worried he would be a bad dad…but when your daughter arrived he didn’t need any of those books because he was a flawless dad.

Yuji would be fun and caring to your daughter and even if he didn’t know how to do something for her, he would find a way just to see her happy. It’s so cute and heartwarming seeing Yuji and your daughter together because their wholesomeness could make you melt.

“So you want pigtails?” Yuji was trying his best to do his daughter’s hair for the first day of school, despite not doing the style ever.

“Yeah Dad! You think you can do it?”

Yuji could hear the fear in his daughter’s voice. He knew how important this first day was for her and the least he could do was give her a good hairstyle to boost confidence.

“It will be the best pigtails hairstyle you have ever seen!” Yuji chuckled as you laughed and he got to work.

“Dad, I love them so much everyone will love me!” your daughter spun around, looking at herself in the mirror.

“I’m glad you like it sweetheart.” Yuji ruffled her hair just as you walked in.

“Hey honey, ready for school? Oooo i love the hair too!!” you asked pinching her nose.

“Thank you Mom! Dad did it! And yeah i am, i just wanna speak to Dad really quickly!” you raised your eyebrows as you nodded leaving and shutting the door behind you.

“Dad…I’m nervous…” Yuji’s eyes widened as he knelt down and laced his hands on your daughter’s shoulders.

“Honey, you are a bright, beautiful, kind, and outgoing girl. Be yourself and everyone will love you for who you are and if anyone pester you i will deal with them okay? You got this!” he suddenly felt his daughter wrap her arms around him.

“Thank you Dad…I love you!”

“I love you more!”

All you could do is soon from the sweet interaction between your amazing family.

a/n: hope you enjoyed! a bit of a struggle because i was writing on a shitty ipad so i’ll probably edit later

anyway, love you guys!💜🦄

#anime #anime fluff #jjk #anime x reader #jjk x reader #fyp #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #nanami fluff #nanami kento #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #yuji itadori #jjk fluff

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sickuma · 11 months

Text

TULIPS (2) — a König fic.

❱ this 'might' be the last part but we'll see. Since I am working on a König fic on Wattpad :D also I cannot create c.ai bots at the moment since I have like, 4 hours of waiting time smh. this is unedited! errors might be seen please bear with me ! ➴ SYNOPSIS — After taking the hit for him, you wake up without memories of him, nor the incident. He tries desperately to retrieve your memories.

LATIBULE — (n.) a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort.

How did this happen,

How did our memories vanish before your very eyes?

Have I lost them forever?

Have I lost them with you?

Will you find it in you to fall in love with me the second time around?

“Do you remember these, hm? [name]?” He shows you the pictures, holding them out one by one. Each and every photograph you took together, he remembered dreading those but he would always be happy to see your smile each time he agreed,

“You would force me to take one specific picture, to show our future family! We have a lot by now we—we…” he paused, staring at you.

“We had a lot of memories.”

You looked back at him, feeling your headache ever so slightly crack you head while you looked and observed the pictures. Closely looking, trying to find a speck of remembrance, a sign that you remember. Instead you got nothing but the skull crushing headache.

The doctor had released you for a week now, after the dischargement you both had gone back to the base. You took time to get used to everything, since you have your complete memories except for when you’ve joined the KorTac factions,

In your mind, you still think you’re a trainee who volunteered for the military.

Memories after that are as visible as a blur. Not even a blur, they were just gone. It was a trauma response, the doctor says. You could still remember the look on König’s face as the doctor explains. He looked defeated, almost lost.

But ever since then, he hasn't given up.

He would visit your quarters, picking you up for meals at the mess hall, wishing you goodnight for whenever you’d sleep. He didn't miss a single night,

The soldiers had asked him why you were not sleeping in one room, they claimed you both fought really hard to be permitted to do that. König simply responded that you needed space as you are still trying to retrieve the memories he spoke of, you were grateful for that, he’s willing to distance himself,

Of course it pained him, without you beside him he cannot sleep properly.

But for your sake he pulled through, hugging the shirt you left in his quarters. Holding it close to his face every night, taking in your scent, missing the times when you’d be beside him at night, running your hand through his hair as he dozed off.

Right now you’re with him, outside of the base, away from the guns and military equipment. The captain had convinced you to try, to try to remember him. The captain made sure to let you know just how agonizing this is for König, telling you how much he cried and telling you that he’d never seen König act as such.

You felt terrible,

Because of your incapability to remember, he suffered. Yet when he faces you, he's always got this slight smile, always has a glint of adoration in those pretty green eyes of his.

You found yourself fond of it once again,

Again?

“This… I always force you to take these?”

He grinned, nodding eagerly. “Mhm, every month, without fail.” he spoke so proudly of it, you almost felt a sense of pride spring upon your forgetful heart. You nod in response, looking at the pictures once again,

“König?”

He looked back up at you, “hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

His smile fell and he dropped the pictures carefully on the table, sitting closer to you but far enough to not cause any discomfort. “For what, liebling?”

“For this,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “For forgetting.”

“Dont—dont ever feel sorry alright?” he spoke, not being able to control the urge to hold your hands. And so he did, placing his hand on yours soothingly. “It's not your fault, never has and never will. You did that for me, and I’m just—just so happy you're here, and proud of you. So so proud, schatz, that you managed to survive that. You did so well, my love.” he rubbed the back of your hand using his thumb, looking up at you with nothing but genuine eyes. “I love those memories,” he paused, “but not as much as I love you.”

“So there is no need for sorrys, liebling, we can retrieve your memories but if I lost you that day, there would be any possible way to get you back.” He spoke quietly yet you could hear him very clearly, it is then you realise just how much he loves you. This man is willing to set aside the way you've just forgotten every memory with him, and is glad to still have you here. His only fear was losing you,

Suddenly the headache is gone, replaced by the dawning realisation. “We’ll make new ones okay? New memories, just as we did before.”

Just how could you forget his eyes?

“If you’ll just let me, I know I'm not more than a stranger to you right now but if you'd just let me in your heart again, I'll surely—”

Just how could you ever forget the blossoming emotion of being in his arms?

How could you ever forget that voice of his which lovingly calls for you,

How could you have forgotten the plans to grow—

“Tulips.” He looked at you with wide eyes. “What did you just—”

“The tulips, König.”

Tears stained his eyes as he sat unable to form a word. He looked at you and only you, letting the emotion surge through his body, letting himself cry for you once again. “We promised to plant the tulips.” Together,

Right König? Our tulips, Just like we promised. In our small house with leaf,

Of course I’ll remember.

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yesimwriting · 5 months

Note

yes i want more felix and oliver !!

a/n i love when people enable me :)

this could be read as taking place at some point after match burns (though this isn't part 2!) but can also easily be read on its own

---

The world has been dulled by a drowsiness so thick and full it's disorientating. You're so tired, so trapped in the state between falling and asleep that it's hard to think. Despite this, he somehow manages to be a bright spot, so warm and safe any and all thoughts of dangers lurking in the shadows are slowly vanishing.

You don't remember Felix getting here. You're not sure when he entered your room through your shared bathroom or when he laid down next to you or when he started tracing soothing patterns against your shoulder. All you know is that there was a nightmare that latched onto the ghosts estates this grandiose and ancient seem to attract and then there was Felix.

By morning, when you'll no longer need Felix to serve the purpose of daylight, you'll be embarrassed. Even now, you're still half-aware of the fact that there's a lot about this that you should find mortifying. Felix knowing to come in and wake you means you must have been showing signs of distress while asleep. Having a nightmare during your first night at Saltburn is a little pathetic, but it's something you can live with. However, needing Felix to stay with you until you fall asleep is a juvenile kind of pathetic that you don't think you could get through.

"Thanks for..." Your voice feels small and far away, but you don't think you can manage anything more concrete. "Waking me up."

Felix's fingertips continue the pattern they've been outlining against your skin without hesitation. "It's nothing," he whispers, "You were tossing and turning so much." Yeah, you'll definitely be embarrassed tomorrow. "Feel better now?"

You manage a nod. "Yeah..." Your eyes fall shut, you have to force yourself to open them again. "Better." Maybe if you sat up or--or moved away, you'd be able to focus. You shift, but you're too tired and, honestly, comfortable for it to be productive. "So, if you...if you want to go back...that'd be okay."

The lack of desire to get the words out paired with the need to remain polite, to make sure that he doesn't think you don't appreciate the gesture makes the words feel awkward. Felix's hand moves down to your arm. He angles his head forward, so close you can feel his breaths against your cheek. "Do you want me to?"

His words are soft, voice low and slightly gravelly. You're reminded of Felix in a world that feels so far from the one you're currently in, seeing him at parties, around the girls he'd pick from time to time.

There would always be a flurry of them around him, but you could always tell which one he was actually entertaining because of the way he'd become attentive. His ability to make someone seem like the only person in the world has always been fascinating. It's a talent that's more than romantic, too. It's part of the reason everyone always wants to be around him.

"No." The confession is faint as it accidentally tumbles past your lips.

The honesty of it knots something in your stomach. It's more than fear or the inability to fall asleep. You want Felix to stay. That's it. There's no reason or justification for it, you just...you want Felix.

But there are social boundaries, and things that you can't do with friends. Intentionally sleeping in the same bed, especially as close together and touchy as the two of you are being, is definitely one of those things.

There has to be a way to explain it without tiptoeing into territory that you're incapable of handling. Especially when it comes to Felix, who you spent an entire semester trying not to fall in love with. You survived by the skin of your teeth just to be invited to spend the summer with his family. You feel like an idiot for thinking you'd be able to get through this.

"Okay." He says it like it's that easy, like that's the only thing worth considering. "Then I'll stay." You're not sure if he can sense your uncertainty, but he's quick to tack on a justification, "Need you well rested." The vague feel of embarrassment attempts to nip at you again. "I know it can be hard to get used to it here."

It's a phrase that would seem like a blanket statement of instinctual politeness from anyone else, but from Felix it feels real, his understanding almost tangible. It's enough to make you fully ease.

"It's still nice, though." An understatement you would've never let slip past you if your eyelids weren't growing heavier by the second. Nice is such a bland term, it almost feels like an insult, especially when considering the fact that you're not just talking about his home. "I'm glad you invited me."

His touch has now moved to concentrate on your forearm. "I'm glad you came." A beat of silence stretches between you, your eyes finally falling shut. Felix's fingertips brush against the inside of your wrist. If you were any more awake, the carefulness of the touch would have gotten to you. "It is still nice."

----

The lack of light bleeding into the hall from beneath the door that leads to Felix's room makes the air entering Oliver's lungs feel stale.

It's late enough that the darkness could mean nothing. Felix's extra curriculars of choice have him in the habit of keeping strange hours. It's more common than not for him to up until the wee hours of the nights, even if there's nothing for him to do. However, from time to time the long nights will catch up to him and he'll fall asleep early.

Oliver can almost convince himself that that's all this is, can practically picture Felix fast asleep above the covers and only half undressed. He would be able to believe it if it wasn't for the soft glow illuminating the space beneath the door that leads to your room.

A familiar tightness forces his ribs to contract. Oliver swallows, stepping towards the door to Felix's room. He knows you to be a late night reader from time to time...

His hand is now grasping the door handle. There's nothing inherently strange about what Oliver's doing. Felix did say to come find him if Oliver had trouble sleeping. He pulls the door open slowly, taking his time to make sure that the creek of the old hinge's stays as quiet as possible.

Oliver peers into the room. The darkness isn't easy to see in, but eventually he makes out slightly tousled sheets on an empty bed and the door to the bathroom cracked open.

Of course it'd take so little time for you to completely pull Felix into your orbit. An entire semester of Felix doting on you and you managed to commit to keeping him at arm's length. One night in his family's home and you're suddenly no longer cautious. Maybe you're not as noble as you try to seem.

He's approaching the door to the bathroom, unsure if seeing it would be as unbearable as imagining it. Felix's hands on you, your body pressed against his.

"Hello?" Felix's voice carries over from the other side of the bathroom, slightly confused but casual. "Oliver?"

Oliver swallows, blood running cold despite the fact that all that he's been caught doing is justifiable. He forces himself to walk forward, to open the door to the bathroom fully. "Yeah."

Oliver crosses over, opening the door to your bedroom with an uncomfortable lump in his throat.

What he sees isn't--Felix is sitting up, the bedside lamp closest to him turned on, an open book held in one hand and your sleeping form holding onto the other. It's not the coming together, the snapping of tension and desire he had been imaging. In many ways, its something worse.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Swallowing down the influx of emotion that Oliver isn't capable of dealing with, he nods blankly. "Yeah. Still adjusting."

"It's normal," Felix replies easily, "She couldn't sleep either."

Felix's solution for you not being able to sleep was to crawl into bed with you. It shouldn't matter, he's seen the two of you get away with displays of affection more nauseating than this on campus. Lingering kisses against each other's cheeks and foreheads and jaws during a night out, holding onto each other at the few parties you agree to attend, Felix tucking you into bed after you drink. But this is--this is a touchiness not hidden under the guise of alcohol.

Oliver nods again. "Oh."

"Fell asleep quickly, though." Felix's thumb brushes up your arm. "Jet lag paired with Farleigh sneaking her one too many glasses of wine." Another empty tilt of Oliver's chin. "Y'can come here, if you want."

The offer comes out so casually, Oliver starts to wonder if he missed something. "What?"

Felix sighs, a hint of some lighthearted humor in the sound. "It doesn't need to be a thing, it's just sleep."

It can't possibly be that casual to him, can it? Especially with the level of care in the way Felix is touching you. And even if it is just a matter of sleep, this is still your room. "What about--"

"She won't mind," Felix dismisses easily. "She likes you." It's one thing to be friendly with someone, another for them to crawl into your bed after you've fallen asleep. "She'll get it."

Oliver's still not sure, his confusion affecting his ability to figure out which reaction will be what Felix wants most. He deliberates for a moment before stepping forward, approaching the other side of the bed.

Now that the overwhelmingness of the domesticity is starting to wear off, you do seem different in your sleep. More vulnerable. It isn't an unappealing way to see you.

He pulls the sheets back carefully, you stir regardless. You shift away from Felix's touch, moving onto your side. Of course you'd wake up just in time to take this from him, too.

You wipe at your eyes tiredly before squinting them open. It takes a moment for you to place yourself, but once you do, the slight confusion behind your eyes is nearly drowned out by an oddly warm confusion. "Oliver."

You bend an arm in an attempt to prop your head up. It takes you a second, but you eventually manage. Farleigh must have encouraged to have a little more than just a few extra glasses of wine at dinner.

"Y'okay?" Your tone is more kind than confused as you stare up at him with sleep still in your eyes.

The answer should be easy. Oliver should be working at accepting Felix's suggestion. The words are there, balancing on the tip of his tongue, but instead of getting them out, he's too focused on you.

It's a curious attention. Half asleep, hair tousled, makeup washed off, and the oversized shirt you're sleeping in sliding down your shoulder. All of these things should make you seem smaller, less eye drawing. Instead, being dressed down just adds a softness to your aesthetic appeal.

Maybe what makes you so appealing to Felix isn't as hard to grasp as Oliver originally thought. The thought twists in him strangely, jabbing at a part of him and encouraging another.

"Ollie couldn't sleep either." Felix gently squeezes your forearm. "I was asking him if he wanted to stay in here tonight, but he didn't want to overstep."

You blink, stiffening slightly for the first time since you woke up. The implications of Felix's statement take a second to fully sink in, but once it does, Oliver can see the hesitation coloring your features. "Oh."

Felix traces a pattern up your arm. You turn your head to look at Oliver again. "You've seen me before a 9:00 AM lecture after a night out and at every stage of finals week grief, I'm not sure there are any boundaries left."

You sit up, pushing yourself close to the center of the bed in a wordless invitation. Oliver swallows before letting himself sit down at the edge of the bed. He takes his time moving beneath the sheets. Your scent clings to the fabric.

The bed's not small, but with the three of you, it is a bit of a squeeze. It's reminiscent of being a little kid crawling into bed with a parent after a bad dream.

"You are pretty harsh during exams." Felix's voice is light, bordering on teasing.

Your mouth falls open in a mock gasp. You twist your arm, trying to push Felix off. He grins, easily resisting your halfhearted attempts to get him off of you. "I am not that bad." You're still pretending to want Felix to let go when you look back at Oliver. "Am I?"

To be honest, during finals you're constantly preoccupied. Even when you're meant to be spending time with friends, it's clear that your mind's stuck on assignments and exams. You're also prone to irritability. The only actual argument Oliver's ever had with you was mainly caused by the stress of an essay you were trying to finish. You apologized almost immediately after, but it's still the most angry he's ever seen you be.

The truth doesn't feel relevant. "You're perfectly lovely all times a'year."

You grin, Felix lets out a sound that's equal parts laugh as it is groan. "Don't tell her that. It'll go to her head."

You gently push at his shoulder, Felix exaggerates a pout.

Like all the praise you receive on a daily basis hasn't already gotten to you. You may not have a family name that carries weight, but you do have the way that people see you, a regular dorm hall darling with the grades and social circle to match.

You don't bask in the praise or let it change your outward appearance, but it has to inflate your ego. You've never implied that you come from a family that struggles financially, but you're not like Felix either. Holding your own with his kind must give you an inflated sense of self.

But this is another truth that serves no purpose. Not with Felix's teasing yet content smile and the attentive way you're watching him.

Oliver extends an arm, placing a hand on your knee. You sit up a little more, uncertainty briefly making it easier for you to be awake. It's not that you're never touchy with Oliver, it's that he's rarely the one to start it. "Oh, she's too much of a sweetheart."

It's honest enough. You are too nice to let anything openly go to your head. The words get you to finally relax at the contact. You must have decided that Oliver's just in a friendly mood. "Thank you." You then turn your head to look at Oliver, "See? Some people think I'm nice."

Felix rolls his eyes, letting his hand fall off your arm for the first time since Oliver's arrival. It's a small shift, but some subconscious part of you seems to notice, eyes instinctually searching for his hand.

"Since when are you on her side?" The comment, delivered with a tone that isn't quite teasing enough to cover the tinge of annoyance that still manages to bleed into the words, only confirms Oliver's theory.

Felix is used to being at the center. Everyone's eyes are always on him, everyone's affections are constantly available. He isn't one to be jealous in a committed way, Oliver's heard about enough of Felix's open flings to know he isn't like that. But he's territorial about those he feels attached to. If Felix Catton deems you worthy of his care, you make sure to make it clear to anyone else that that's all that matters.

The brief flash of defensiveness makes Oliver feel like he's standing a little straighter, a little stronger. "There are no sides."

"Yeah." You shift, leg moving off of Felix's as you try to sit up a little more. Felix's brow furrows.

It hits Oliver, then, that even though you want Felix's approval, you might not need it the way everyone else does. That must be part of the reason Felix is so drawn to you. Or maybe you're just that sure in yourself, in your place in his life that you're willing to push from time to time if the setting feels light enough.

But you're not happy with tension between the two of you, not even the kind that's barely implied. Oliver doesn't think he's ever seen the two of you argue, or look anything outside of completely content in each other's presence.

"We're just joking," you mumble, angling your neck awkwardly to look at Felix.

"Yeah, so am I."

Your gaze shifts over to Oliver, something knowing behind your eyes that he can't quite return. "Mhm."

Felix lets out an exaggerated breath before relaxing his spine and laying down. "Fuck off," he mumbles, the passive aggressiveness forced into the syllables not enough to hide his genuine fondness.

You look over at Oliver, "Can you believe him?"

A combination of being emboldened by the safety of your approval and the urge to feel as indispensable as you are makes Oliver want to joke back. "He seems moody, must be tired."

You laugh again, this time your body leaning towards Oliver until your head lands on his shoulder.

"Fuck off," Felix says again, "Both of you." His annoyance is still undercut by something warm.

Your head is still on Oliver's shoulder, the weight of it impossible to ignore but not exactly uncomfortable. You've stilled significantly, a fact that makes Oliver wonder if you've fallen asleep like that.

Then, you break the silence, "We're kidding."

"I've heard that before," Felix counters flatly. He stretches an arm, reaching for your fingers. "Liked you better asleep."

Felix squeezes your hand, keeping you awake enough to respond. "I'm sure the quiet was nice."

He sits up slightly, "You snore a little."

You're so offended, you lift your head off of Oliver's shoulder. "I. Do. Not."

Oliver waits a beat before adding, "Well."

You turn to look at Oliver, your offense clear. "How would you know?"

"Remember after that one party? You were so out of it, you needed help getting into your room and passed out before I could go." The memory is relatively recent, an end of semester party that you used to celebrate the end of your finals induced hibernation.

You pout. "You two are mean."

Felix runs his thumb across your knuckles. "Extremely." You part your lips like you have something else to say, but you're cut off by a yawn. "We should go to bed."

You tilt your chin up slightly, a potential protest that fizzles out almost immediately. "Yeah." You're tired, there's not even the good humored kind of fight left. "It's late."

You sink into the mattress, eyes shutting immediately. Oliver watches for a second, still unsure in a way he isn't used to. There's something about this kind of softness that isn't easy to place himself in.

Felix leans over, setting his book down on the nightstand. "Are you both settled?"

You nod, eyes still closed. Oliver's a little slower to react, "Yeah."

Felix switches off the bedside lamp. Darkness enshrouds the room. The bed groans slightly as Felix adjusts himself. Oliver follows, moving so that he can lay down fully.

He's closer to you than he's ever been. Your warmth radiates beneath the sheets in a way that's strangely soothing. Oliver isn't sure how he felt so awake just minutes ago. His eyelids are growing heavy. The last thing Oliver registers before falling asleep is Felix's hand on his shoulder, a too brief yet somehow still lingering squeeze that serves as a silent good night.

#saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton x reader x oliver quick

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ant1quarian · 7 months

Text

Dust Sans Headcanons

Both x Reader and just general headcanons. ( Dust Sans belongs to Ask-Dusttale! )

To me, Dust is a very… quiet, aloof character– but he’s also incredibly intelligent and observant

Fanonically, in my mind, he does feel emotions, he just feels them through a kind of static. One thing he is incapable of feeling, though, is guilt.

I also headcanon that he has “hypervigilance”– a constant state of awareness, where he’s constantly assessing potential threats around him.

This also mean he does not sleep. He can’t remember the last time he slept, and in my mind, this also means that Visage ( His Papyrus ) is both a hallucination from going insane… and sleep deprivation. (Though, I do like to think as Visage being a literal ghost, instead of a hallucination as he is canonically– I think )

I also headcanon that Dust’s hood over his head acts as a sort of security blanket? It provides him a sense of calmness, at least.

Signs that he likes you

Because Dust doesn’t talk a massive amount, he’ll often just turn up and… sit beside you. Or he’ll randomly come up to you, grab you by the hand, and take you on a walk ( or just bring you somewhere )

It’s not obvious he’s starting to fall for you if you don’t pay attention to the subtle things.

How he slightly turns to you when you enter the room. How he slightly shuffles over on the couch in order to make room for you, even if he’s mid-conversation with someone else and doesn’t even spare a glance at you.

Unless Killer or Axe is there to point it out, you likely won’t notice– unless he’s been an absolute asshole to you in the past.

I like the thought of Dust beginning to pun more around you (because he does enjoy them!) just to see you either groan, smile, or giggle.

He may initiate small amounts of physical contact. Brushing your hand with his when he wants your attention, or is just walking next to you. Sometimes when you’re both sitting down, he’ll rest his knee on yours.

I… honestly can’t see Dust being a massive fan of PDA? Like he doesn’t… exactly… care that much, but he prefers it in small amounts?

I feel like he’s the type to take comfort in the slightest of touches, and I feel like hugging you and being that close to your SOUL can overwhelm him sometimes.

( This stems from my headcanon that will be put at the end of this )

But when he gets more used to you having such a powerful SOUL (in comparison to his own SOUL), he’ll be much happier with long times of physical contact.

When he finally fully trusts you and knows you won’t run away, he’ll start putting his hood down when he’s around you. At this point, he is fully smitten with you, and couldn’t possibly put the amount of adoration he has for you into words.

It just means he feels safe around you

Also, once he loves you, you’ll be able to catch him off-guard. Like you toss a thing at him, and instead of dodging, it sorta just slaps him in the face and leaves him very confused because he dIdN’T DODGE??

I feel like Dust is also prone to… bouts of violence. And lets be real here, it’s not going to be a “everyone but you” thing, because you can most definitely get caught up in it by accident

That being said, he’d never intentionally hurt you, and if he did hurt you, it’d probably be the first time you ever saw him tear up. ( Not that he’d let you see for long– tugging his hood back over his head and furiously wiping his sockets. )

Just because he can’t feel guilt, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t know when he’s in the wrong, and it also doesn’t mean he can’t feel sad because of what he did.

He truly does love you, even if it’s hard for people to pick up on sometimes, and they tell you that it’s a very “toxic, one-sided relationship.”

Because it isn’t. He has a fuck ton of trauma, the inability to sleep, LOVE 20, and a weird… under-the-surface fear of humans. But he loves you, despite it all, and you love him, too.

The Headcanon

Those with LV are very sensitive to intent. Not physically, of course, because they get more DEF and ATK when their LV climbs higher, but rather... emotionally?

They can tell what you're feeling more acutely, and so it can become overwhelming for them.

#Sans x reader #Dust Sans #Dust Sans x Reader #Headcanons #x reader #undertale au #Dusttale #Dusttale Sans

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Man-Sized

9/9 Peace in a Lifetime of War

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

He didn't call, didn't text, didn't explain himself.

She wrote dozens of texts, mostly with one sentence, Where'd you go?, Could we talk this through?, I'm sorry, would you please come back, but never sent them.

But she was also being ripped apart by the feeling that this simply couldn't be happening. It couldn't end like this. There was something real here. There had to be.

Pride got in the way. He didn't deserve her begging after leaving her like that without even an explanation as to why. He cared about his job more than her, and she would no longer beg for leftovers. She would not be the girl he could come and fuck in the dark when he had the time for it.

Let's make this work.

That's the sentence she wrote the most, to reverse the last words she had said. A nervous voice inside her told her that she had driven him away. That Simon was somewhere out there thinking she didn't want him in her life. After all, she had shouted that he should go and do his job… Practically, get out of her life.

But how could a few words spoken in anger drive him away? How could he just cut her off after everything? Player or not, she had thought him a better man than this.

He still had the key. He hadn't left it on the table or mailed it to her. He might still walk through that door when she least expected it.

But days turned into weeks, and somewhere in her heart, she knew a decision had been made. Simon never half-assed anything. If he had left, he had left. End of fucking story.

After three weeks, she threw away the shower gel. It reminded her of the time she had come from the shower to a dark room filled with him. When she had teased him, and he had sent her to heaven, when they had confessed their love to each other. It stared at her from the bin until she went and took out the trash with not much else but that single men's shower gel bottle in it.

He had left one of his hoodies in her apartment, and she almost threw it into the bin too. Then she crawled inside it like a child who had lost her parents.

It smelled of him, and it was so big that half of her disappeared inside it, and she felt warm, and safe, and devastated. That hoodie and her bedroom walls twisted the knife by whispering the words Marry me, laced with an echo of his laughter. Every day she decided to throw it away and start a new life, and every night she curled inside it to cry herself to sleep.

Bolognese was ruined for her. Motörhead was ruined, bourbon was ruined; the smell of tobacco brought tears to her eyes. She walked past springtime tulips like they carried the plague itself. Even Dürer was ruined.

How could a heartless, cocky 21st-century soldier ruin the genius of a Renaissance master?

Luckily, she hadn't told anyone who she had been dating for months now. She had never asked Simon to meet her parents. She hadn't even told them she was seeing someone… Her mother had made a remark on how nice it was to see her happy when she was visiting on holidays, and she had told her she had gotten good grades this semester. In her heart, she had perhaps always known that things with Simon wouldn't last. It all seemed like a dream. A beautiful, heated, fucked up pipe dream.

It was like the very oxygen from her life was gone. She didn't have the will to masturbate; the toy she had only reminded her of the embarrassing incident where she had forgotten it on the bedside table, and he had seen it and made her blush with a laugh and a comment; "That's the competition?" Such a small, pink thing compared to Simon, and even that reminded her of him.

Her workplace was a smoking rubble after a war. The pole choreographies had the atmosphere of Swan Lake rather than anything sultry and sexy — she flicked the pole to spin mode more often, started to do leg hangs and suicide spins and unicorn splits and chose music with lyrics about betrayal and other heartbroken, forlorn wailing.

Her gaze swept the audience before she grabbed the pole. Just in case. There were hungry eyes, but none belonged to the man with a winter-over stare, sleeve tattoo, and voice burnt from scotch, smoking, and sleepless nights.

The room spun, and her heart hurt, and she wondered if Simon had found another sweet girl or if he was bleeding in the blur too. Perhaps he was taking his pleasure with the women on his team, no strings attached. Fucking those tough army girls who were everything she was not. Making them moan with slow, heavy torture.

She wanted him to hurt. And then again, she did not. She wanted him to be safe, and for the first time in her life, she prayed even though she had never believed in God.

That forgotten oversized hoodie was her temple, and she wasn't sure who she was even praying to before falling asleep inside that black cotton. But she asked for Simon to stay safe, to not do anything stupid. She even prayed for his happiness, but then the prayers turned more selfish, and she asked that he would come back to her.

Just come back to her.

Her prayers were answered sooner than she would've thought. It was a frightening invocation, because when she finally caught him as a black, massive shadow against the darkness of the club, it was clear that he was in an even worse shape than she was.

He was still big, still menacing, a powerhouse of a man, but she saw that he had lost weight, the shade under his eyes was even darker than when they had first met. He was looking at her dance like he was attending a funeral: there was no smile, no hunger, only suffering in his eyes that followed her from inside a black hood.

She wanted to jump from the stage in the middle of her show, climb onto his lap, cry all the tears still uncried, although she had done nothing but bawled every night since he had left. Sweat made the pole slick, and she closed her eyes as she spun, hoping to be somewhere else entirely so he wouldn't see the hurt in her eyes. But the lights were pointing at the stage, and her face must've been a pale mask of fear and longing, and the dance turned into the ending act of her own personal Swan Lake.

It had been almost a month, and he barged back into her life like he would barge through a door into a room full of prisoners. The game was on again, and he was the fucking worst, and the relief and longing turned into red, blazing rage.

How dare he show up here? Still without warning, without a single message, when he knew how much it meant to her. Especially after what had gone down.

When she was done, she didn't go to him; she left the stage before the applause had even died, rushed to get her things, and stormed out the back door, half fearing that she would bump into him. He wasn't there, but when she walked past the entrance to get home, there was a man smoking outside. She wouldn't shed a look his way but knew from the aura of darkness and hellfire and silent leadership that it was him. There was no sound of footsteps, but she knew he was walking behind her, could almost smell the smoke, could feel his stare on her back as she rushed down the street like she was being hunted by a ravager.

And hadn't he, in a way, promised to haunt her, dead or alive?

She cried the whole way home while being followed by his ghost – silent tears of anger and relief and sorrow, jaw trembling and hiccups tickling her throat.

When she reached her apartment, she opened the door as quickly as possible, then slammed it shut behind her.

Would he use the key and force himself in? Would he take the closed door as a sign not to trespass? She almost went to open it to let him know that this area was actually a No Man's Land, not a threshold to her personal space, much less a fortress he needed to conquer.

But he had decided to pursue her, and a clear-cut knock sent her heart up her throat.

She had a choice not to open that door. Return to her old life without this fuckery. He wouldn't use the key she had given him, he was gentleman enough not to. Or perhaps not a gentleman: he simply knew when he was not welcome and would be too proud to force a connection.

But the decision had really been made a long time ago. It was made when she asked for that drink, when she accepted his flowers, when he pushed inside her the first time. Perhaps even on the moment she first laid eyes on him.

So, without having a grain of rational thought behind it, her heart walked her to that door and opened it.

He was leaning on the frame with one hand, and the hooded head rose from a heavy hang. He looked defeated for a moment, and she realized she had taken a while to come to the door… But then he squared his shoulders and raised his chin, bounced away from the frame, and the tiniest little smile played on his lips.

A look of I win.

It was something so Simon that it burned her heart, and the love returned – as if it had ever gone anywhere – and she was so angry that she slapped him to wipe off that stupid look that told her he could drop her like a toy and then come back and pick her up again.

Her palm met his chin, and it hurt her too: to hear that slap and know he allowed it to happen.

He allowed her to slap him. Again.

He reduced her to someone who hit people, like this was some trailer park romance where physical abuse was ok.

It was his fault, not hers.

It was his fault. It was.

His head was turned to the side from the force of her palm, the eyebrows rose in muted surprise. Then he slowly turned to look at her, and couldn't hide his smile anymore. He fucking got off on this.

Which was why she slapped him again – only, this time he caught her hand and finally forced himself inside, like it was an invitation that she tried to hit him. Her other hand shot out, rather impassively, and he caught that, too.

"That's quite enough."

That gruff, dark voice was probably what she had missed the most. Or those big, brown eyes full of promise. Or all that muscle wrapping around her in a crushing hug, those lips that smashed against hers in a starved kiss.

The door slammed shut behind him as he devoured her. The moment his hands let go of hers and enveloped her into that secure embrace, she dissolved and let him crush her mouth, her ribs, her everything — her hands reached for the hood and tore it down, clutched his back, his jacket, threatening to tear the clothes apart from how much she had missed him.

Tears gathered up her throat, and her eyes burned and squeezed shut, she held the black fabric in her fists and pulled, trying to get closer even when there was not a breath of air between them. His scent brought back so many memories that she threatened to drown in the flood.

The kiss left them both breathless and huffing when he drew her against him. She felt like a hostage when he closed one heavy palm around her head and simply forced her cheek to meet his chest. He had never closed her in a hug quite like this — like he was afraid that she would disappear into thin air if he didn't hold on tightly enough.

"Sweetheart." It was a rumble in her hair, a deep vibration in the solid wall she was smashed against.

"Don't you dare," she whispered through tears, but her hands told a different story as she clung to him like a drowning person.

"Sarah…" He only squeezed her harder, so hard that she feared he would soon break bones. "Love. I'm sorry that it took so long."

Her fingers flexed, then wrapped around that jet-black cotton again. The tears disappeared in his shirt, and she was glad he always wore black; otherwise, the mascara would've made a visible mess.

He smelled so good. She inhaled him like a drug — even after the desertion, his scent meant safety and home to her.

"What the fuck happened?" She sniffed, trying not to wail like a child against that firm wall of chest. "I thought you only went for a smoke."

He stroked her hair so gently that the shirt was soon soaked from her tears.

"I thought it would be best if I left you in peace," he muttered, sounding almost guilty. Her hand twitched in the folds of the hood from the utter folly of it all. She thanked the heavens that he hadn't. She had never exactly found peace with him, but being without him was even worse.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," she retorted.

"Yeah. I used to be a better man. But if ya think I'm cocky… Hah, you should've seen me back then. Feared nothing."

She had expected him to share a reason for leaving her like that, but she hadn't envisioned it to start with those words. The world was quaking again in her hallway, lit by a single, lone lamp.

"It didn't work. It got people killed. Even my brother's little kid." He was still talking to the crown of her head as if exposing the darkest of secrets, fearing that the walls were wired.

"I'm not really… alive, you know? Died with them about ten years ago."

From any other man's mouth, that trace of information, an explanation for his handicaps, would've felt melodramatic. When it came from Simon, it felt like a void was yawning before her.

"Swore that day I would never let it happen again."

How could she always forget that her judgment concerning Simon was flawed – no – distorted as hell? She knew he had lost everybody but didn't know how exactly. Of course there had been violence. She had never really understood just how important it was for him to protect people from getting too close.

I didn't mean for things to go this far suddenly stood for something completely different.

He wasn't playing or toying with her. He was being absolutely, vehemently, utterly serious.

Even… intimidated.

She felt even worse about not being there for him when he had been thin with his skin. She had made it all about her when he tried to share a deep fear.

"I tried to keep my hands off you as long as I could." He hummed, a sound of a distant, pleasant memory. "You were so… fuckin' graceful. Felt like you were dancing just for me."

The tears kept flowing, the world kept quaking.

"I was," she whispered. "Even when you weren't there."

"Thought you was just teasin' me. Seemed such a tough girl." He gave her one of those short laughs, a cynical scoff that said he wasn't easily caught off balance. "'N then you turned out to be sweet as a pie. So bloody sweet. Swept me right off my feet."

She pulled back a little and saw that his eyes were liquid too, the pale lashes fluttered over bloodshot, melted chocolate, but no tears came out. It was like he didn't quite know how to cry, like that skill had been tortured out of him, never to return.

"Nothing lasts. Especially if it's something good and pure." He ran a thumb over her cheek, catching a tear, like he was soothed by seeing someone crying the tears he could not. "Really wanted this to last."

Her lower lip trembled at that, and she had to fight back a whole bawl that threatened to erupt. He was stupidly eloquent when he wanted to. But he was also blind if he couldn't see that no one else but him had tried to end things this time. How could a man so mature and smart be so stupid?

"You're the one who walked out the door, Simon."

He blinked a few times. Yeah… He was that stupid, even if he was sharp and trained and brave. But it was also stupid of her to think there wouldn't be problems. He had built a wall, five-foot thick, since childhood. She had tried to penetrate it with a needle and had had a fit when it wouldn't budge.

"Look... You can't just come into my life and fuck around and fuck with my head — and fuck me… and then leave and say Darling, it's dangerous."

He huffed a laugh at her imitation of him. "You make me sound like a jerk."

"That's because you are."

A sigh. "Right."

She had expected him to return the quip, make some clever comeback, but their love had been on ice for weeks and weeks. Even if the warmth was there, and he was close, so close… Something was still wrong.

She pulled herself back to the solace of his chest. There were broken things inside, and she was a brittle vase herself, barely able to hold all the sorrow in.

"Why do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"Comes with the job."

"I hate your job," she mumbled in his shirt, and he chuckled humourlessly.

"Me too."

"No you don't. You love it." She sent another accusation in the air, and the penalty was an open prison, a slackening muscle around her.

"Guilty as charged."

"Why are you here, Simon?"

There was a pause, one, two breaths…

"Can't fuckin' live without you."

He had no doubt tried, tried to veritably leave her from fear of setting her in danger. Only Simon could leave a woman for fear of losing them…

"Even if I only get scraps and slaps. Phone's full of look at me's but you never call."

Her eyes flared wide open, her lungs ceased working for a second. Five months flashed backward, then forward, their shared moments twisting and turning, words finding new meanings.

Scraps…

You never call.

Jesus Christ.

It was bitter, and it was true. She had guarded her heart like a prisoner of war during a time of peace. Sent him thirsty selfies like they were the only thing he wanted from her, refused to call in fear of losing some game.

He wasn't the only one who was proud and dramatic. She had had a whole month in her hands. She could've called him, sent him those texts. She could've made it known that she hadn't meant her last words as a command for him to get out. But she had done none of those things. Instead, she slammed the door in his face and slapped him when he finally came back with his tail between his legs.

It was never about his job. She could deal with that. It was about the game.

They were both boneheaded, proud little creatures, and she realized she was the one who had been playing, playing for far too long…

"You said you'd rather call me," she whimpered, voice barely even a whisper.

He pulled her away by the shoulders and took a quick scan. There was patronization and pity, and she wondered whether he would take the blame for her failings too. But the pain was more profound than that.

"Sarah. Do ya even like me?"

Of all the things said that night, said ever, that was probably what hurt her the most.

"Yes," was all she managed to say to the man who was, in truth, the love of her life.

"Alright. Then I don't see what the problem is."

He was being reasonable, but there seemed to be a whole other problem she had never acknowledged. Had never even known existed.

And it was a rare, rare thing, that he chose to break first.

"Sarah, bloody fucking-... It kills me to imagine you with someone else."

All in.

As if she could ever find a man like him. As if she could even see other men. They had ceased to exist five months ago.

Just say it.

"I don't want someone else," she said, knowing that games like these should be illegal. But she was not playing anymore. "I only want you. Remember?"

The wall cracked, crumbled a little, exposed some softness in those chocolate eyes.

"Now that's what I like to hear."

Annoying, lovable, cocky bastard. This time, it was her turn to pull him in for a kiss.

He let her take some of his clothes off but then seized the reins from her again by hauling her to the bedroom like a doll. Everything happened right according to a script: she was undressed, tossed on the bed, and he was climbing on top of her before she could even say his name.

He just wouldn't allow her to touch him. She had given him one and a half blowjobs, one handjob, and slapped him two times. They cuddled every now and then. That was basically it.

He was always on top, had fucked her against this and that wall, fucked her with his clothes on half the time. He initiated everything, made her feel good, and so, so subtly prevented her from touching him. Did he even know he was doing it, or was it subconscious?

This would have to change.

Past torture or not, it would change now.

"Simon," she placed a hand on his chest when he was already inserting himself inside her.

"Hm?"

"Can I be on top?"

Something akin to worry flickered in his eyes, but it was only a brief glitch that soon changed into an intrigued look.

"Why not," he tried to hide the remnants of his bafflement, then crashed to the bed beside her. She flicked the table light on as if making it clear that this was the dawn of a new era. He gave it a hasty side eye, then turned his attention back to her.

"Have you ever heard of Adam's first wife?" She asked when she climbed on top of him. God, but he was wide, even though men were supposed to have narrower hips. Simon was a man in his prime, threatening, even when lying under her in a seemingly vulnerable position.

"You givin' me a history lesson too?"

"She was banished from Eden because she wanted to be on top during sex." She tried to seek support from his chest, knowing it would be of minimal help. If he would get too enthusiastic, she might be bucked off.

"I won't be so cruel," he said with a soft smile as he ran hands over her thighs, then up to her waist, hesitantly. Simon never hesitated.

From what she understood, he was far from a footsoldier. The people he killed never even heard he was coming for them with a thick, ugly blade. Perhaps he preferred to fuck like that, too: stealthy and intimate, in the darkness, keep his victim in a sturdy embrace so he could feel how they bled to death.

That light was a threat. Her stare was piercing awareness: also, a threat.

And it was only now, from this position, that she finally caught the wounds. Fresh, ugly holes that should've probably been under bandage still.

"What's this?"

There were not one, but two cavities surrounded by discolored skin, bruised dark purple, virtually black — gunshot wounds that had barely missed his liver. Had the bullets reached the internals, they would've likely been the end of him.

"That's the reason why it took so long."

Shallow breathing was a stupid response from a body already feeling faint. But the next few breaths were just that: an attempt to sustain the flow of oxygen and allow reality to sink in.

The last time Simon had gotten hit was years and years ago: a bullet to the arm, not nearly as severe as an abdominal wound. She thought they used bullet vests at work. Unless he had chosen not to wear it. Her brain was a horrid thing, pushing a clinical sentence out of a psychology journal to her mind.

"The root cause of self-destructive behavior can stem from a mental health condition such as depression: overwhelming sadness and loss of interest."

She had drowned herself in self-pity in her cozy little apartment and taken revenge on a shower gel bottle while Simon had gotten himself wounded, nearly killed. Probably spent the last few weeks in a hospital after the operation in whatever medical facility he had been brought to from the field. Without telling her, stubborn and proud as he was. Lying there, with no visitors, thinking it was better to leave her alone…

She knew he had a death wish, but this… This crushed her soul.

"Soap said I should ask you to marry me instead of trying to prove something by killin' myself."

Shit…

More edgy, dark humour — but her insides shuddered.

The axis of melancholia turned and turned. She hadn't told anyone about them, but Simon had. So that someone could deliver the message if need be. Even the thought of a Scottish jarhead appearing at her door and telling her how Lieutenant Simon Riley had been killed in action made her eyes sting.

Soap was a clever man. Much more intelligent than the one between her thighs.

"What am I to do with you," she whispered while placing the lightest, faintest touch on the stretched skin around the injury. The muscles rippled underneath her fingertips, and a soft hiss drew her attention back to his face, but the discomfort was hidden from view before she could decide whether it was caused by her words or her touch.

"A few ideas come to mind," he spoke with his everlasting cheek, even when healing from both gunshot wounds and a broken heart. "Wanna hear?"

"How about you shut your mouth for a change," she offered, gently enough to make it clear that some things should be fixed with another kind of communication.

When she reached to guide him inside her, he was uncommonly solemn. The dry spell had ended at the door already, but that drowsy, flaming rust of a stare caused the cup to overflow. She was slippery as hell, but he was patient, mostly having a ball watching how she went through trial and error to get him in. The intimacy made her flustered, and that stern expression soon turned into a smug one as she fucked up guiding him in smoothly and with finesse.

And it was wishful thinking that Simon would keep his mouth shut.

"Ya need help with that?"

"Shush," she said, knowing it was futile, a laugh bubbling in her chest as she tried to sound convincing with the command. As if she could order someone like Simon around.

He broke again when the thick of him finally pushed in, slow and steady like a reverie.

"Always so fuckin' tight 'n wet for me…"

"You can't just shut it for one minute, can you," she breathed while gliding down the cock that spread her wide — and God, she had longed for that familiar invasion.

"Not with you, sweetheart."

She had barely even started when she saw how his throat worked, then felt him tighten the grip on her waist.

"Did ya have others while I was away?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

The muscles on his jaw tensed, then unwound with a sigh, the heavy-lidded eyes making him look like a man about to pass out.

"Neither did I. Seat's already taken."

The jesting, his laugh, their togetherness — she had missed it so much that it physically hurt.

But at the same time, it felt like they were meeting for the first time. This time with more than just their clothes off. Everything was…amplified, and not just because the lights were on. This was not a lazy Sunday morning fuck under the sheets.

She had been squashed against his chest, but she had never traced the muscles with the tips of her fingers, watched how his nipples grew hard at the contact. She had never quite seen how his jaw clenched, how his abs pulled taut just from a slow roll of her hips. Her hands looked tiny, dainty, when they swept over him – a man made weapon – all corded muscle and uneven skin, tone changing with the map of old and new scars, fresh scratches here and there, ill-healed burn marks and whatnot coating a skin that had seen more than just rough weather. He didn't treat his body like a living, breathing thing; it was simply a tool.

Her past boyfriends had been just that. Boys compared to him. It wasn't just his size, that he was older than her. It wasn't even the map of scars spread over muscles built to withstand and wage war. It was just something so inherently him, a maturity, ripe survival, toughness that came from another age entirely.

She tried to be worthy of him, make love to him in return for all the favors he had so generously given her.

He appeared to enjoy it with the most laid-back attitude she had yet seen on him. She had prepared for intensity, as always, a bit of devilry, but not for that daydreamy stare. That absorbed, blissful look could only be compared to someone easing down on a divan, waiting to be served wine and grapes like they were some Roman deity. Or, in his case, on a lush sofa, waiting for his girl to bring him a scotch after a long day. Maybe take his boots off, and his pants too, kneel and take him in a warm, wet mouth…

God, she was fantasizing about blowing Simon while riding him. But she'd be damned if she didn't serve him that back rub with a happy ending as soon as she had ridden him to the finish line.

"Should do this more often," he noted evenly, echoing her thoughts – and trying to grasp some sliver of control by telling her he liked this. Liked being served.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Can't complain."

And she realized now that she wasn't the one in charge, no. He was looking at her much in the same way as he did when she was up on that stage. Only, he was now both the stage and the pole… and the audience.

Fuck.

Every time she tried to get in control, he did that rear choke on her. Even this turned out to be another counter technique. He was simply enjoying her take her pleasure.

The notion didn't cause fires anymore, other than a flare of licking heat down to where they were joined. Her inner walls had decided that he was a keeper too, gripping him so violently that the tendons on his neck became visible. The callous of his hands traveled upwards to her ribs, and she caught a thought of how he could easily crush her if he wanted to — but he only proceeded to hug her waist with an iron grip to join in the show.

"Keep doin' that and there's gonna be a real mess," he said, voice thick, sending more heat trickle down her spine.

"Isn't that always the case with you?" She was on the brink of laughter now, because it felt stupid that it had taken her so long to enjoy this man to the full.

"Yeah… But you love it. Admit it." He wasn't bulldozing now. Just enticing, eyes glimmering from seeing her so evidently happy.

And she did admit it. She didn't hold back at all. She allowed him to see exactly how much she wanted and admired him, how good he made her feel.

The account started as a steaming, almost pissed-off checklist, a confession rather than a declaration of love. It contained pent-up love and hate, from how he fucked her in the dark to how he drove knives to a wall she didn't even own. But then it turned into a hymn. Nevermind ego; she wanted to stroke his heart and soul. He fucking deserved it.

She told him he was a good man, the best man she had ever known. How she had never loved anyone like this. How she was his, had been from the moment he came to that club. She even told him how big he was and how she had trouble concentrating in class because of it. That she had trouble focusing pretty much anywhere.

How she had cried herself to sleep in his sweatshirt every night after he had left… How she wanted him to never leave again — how she wanted to solve every argument they would have from now on with a hatefuck instead.

At first, he looked at her curiously, probably thinking she was joking. Then his expression turned to a choked-up stun.

“Sarah– Fuckin’ hell…"

Every secret thought from the past five months was laid out before them; every little thing she admired about him from body to soul.

It seemed to be a shock treatment, a little too much all at once, but he was true to his word and didn't complain.

"You're gonna make a grown man cry 'ere."

He didn't cry, but if there was still some invisible wall between them, every last brick was blown apart at this point.

The poker game was finally over, the whole table was cleared of cards and chips and bets.

"Do you even like me… Unbelievable, Simon," she said as a final notion. There was a soft smile, but it wasn't arrogant or vain in her eyes anymore. Just proud, pleased.

God, had she been stupid.

She descended to celebrate, to seal it all with a kiss. He welcomed her with fast allegiance: arms went around her as soon as her breasts pressed against his chest. It was all hunger, but ten times more tender than the starvation at the door. Slow, deliberate, and it went straight to her cunt, gripping him — and of course he responded with a groan, straight into her mouth.

His hips jerked up to meet her, and had she not been in the safe custody of freakishly strong arms, she would've fallen off her ride. And it was high time to investigate whether he had a vulnerable spot in his neck as well.

A sluggish, flat-tongued lick up the column of his throat and some open-mouthed, sloppy kisses sent him contracting from the middle, pushing in, balls deep. She risked a nib, even a soft bite, and eventually, went a bit feral on that neck. It was another jackpot for the both of them.

"I need-.. need you on your back," he had never stuttered like that, out of breath, trying to be polite with a raspy throat. But he wasn't really asking, and it wasn't really mannerly. It was actually a demand.

"Wanna fuck you hard," his voice was so low that it was almost a growl.

Yes.

Yes. Yes, please.

And she knew just the trick that would ensure that he did.

"Hmh. Denied," she said to his neck, and waited for the punishment that was brief and thorough.

"The hell it is."

He rolled over and switched their roles without even pulling out, and just like that, her feeble attempts to be the rebellious first woman turned to dust. But she didn't really mourn the loss. Her Eden resided right here.

"You're such an asshole," she was laughing from mirth and love and the joy of being pressed under that safe weight again.

"Would like to fuck that too someday."

Oh my God..-

She wasn't a blushing lady from Victorian times, but this was a little unexpected, even from him.

"Bet you're even tighter down there… I might just pass out."

Her jaw must've fallen an inch or two, her eyes no doubt shot full of shimmering glee because nothing, absolutely nothing escaped him, and her face was now more than that of a stupefied goldfish.

"I suggest you close that pretty mouth before I-"

She cut him short by sinking nails in his skin — more precisely, his ass. He arched his back with the following thrust, even exposed his throat with a satisfied grunt.

"Lil' wildcat… I could do this all night." It was a pleased chuckle, and her heart hurt — she was constantly calling him annoying, an asshole, a jerk, and he told her she was beautiful, sweet, his girl, or a little wildcat in return…

"Would ya like that?"

She could only nod, time and again, and the sex turned messy, noisy and unhinged, weeks and weeks of frustration and longing dissipating with fucking that spread her thighs wide and made the whole bed wail. Her head hit the frame once or twice before he moved her with an annoyed grunt while she was having a laugh about it, but then she remembered he was injured and that this was a bad idea.

"Your wounds-" she tried to stutter amidst a pounding that had certainly been held back for longer than five months, not to talk of a few weeks.

"I'll live."

She was close, but so was he, and it seemed it was the most difficult decision he had ever made: to choose whether to slow down and grit his teeth or just give into the temptation and spill. A split second, and he chose the latter, and she must've been gawking: all that muscle towering over her went tense, the halved slant between his pecs sheened with sweat.

He came with a long groan and a head rolled back, the tension leaving him in shivers before his head fell back down, chin to the chest. The stare behind those heavy lids was unfocused, heady, drugged.

"Fuck, you're a glorious sight," he said while sweeping a hand over her sternum and closing the giant palm around her throat — nothing brutal or rough, just a little bit of fun that probably shouldn't have made her tighten around him as furiously as it did. It felt like she was one of his victims, held in place by one hand only, as his gaze dropped down to marvel at how his cock disappeared in her and came out all wet. The thrusts were erratic and desperate, the ending throes of ecstasy — must've been a glorious sight indeed.

He wouldn't even pause to enjoy the trip back to earth to the full. He left her, eyes both determined and drunk, cock still half hard, so abruptly that a sad little whimper fled her. But he wasn't gone for long, just settled next to her and gathered her in his arms, wracked with purpose.

She gasped when not one, but two fingers dipped inside, then drove deep to the knuckle.

"Fuck…"

"Will do."

It was a scant substitute for his cock, even with two thick fingers. But he was good, so damn good that it didn't matter.

He did everything right, perfect, precise. Made a mess of the cum that joined the wreckage, played with it, slathered it all over her until she was sticky and wet and the noise was well-nigh filthy.

But even more unbearable was the intimacy, the way her hand found him, the bunching muscles on the forearm, the thumb brushing her clit, his fingers curling in a loose fist while two of them curled inside her…

She wanted to participate, feel the fierce connection that had gained a whole new level. There was a sense of belonging, merging — did he feel it too?

Yeah, he definitely did.

Their gazes were locked, but the depth in his eyes wasn't hunger or will to dominate or even meant for fishing cues, it was pure surrender, actually, it was… love.

"Please," she whispered while he made love to her with both his hand and those eyes, not knowing why she even said that. But he had told her he loved it when she begged, so that's what she did. She would give him every fucking thing he wanted.

The sweltering bronze of his eyes broke a little, his brow gave a minimal tug.

"Simon - Please," the words were a mouthed prayer rather than an audible whisper, and she knew her own gaze was fractured because the warmth in his eyes only spread.

"I got ya," he crushed her in a devout hug while spreading her open, breathed into her ear, all joking gone. It was a solemn pledge, a guarantee.

"Promise I got ya."

This wasn't affection anymore; it was bonding.

She came with a strained whimper in his neck, curled into the hug with thighs trembling and hands grabbing whatever she could: a sheet, a tight muscle. He was an absolute genius for not moving, just stayed inside as her muscles sucked him in with a long, hungry pull that turned into a shudder that went through her whole body.

"Uh, fuh-…" She was cursing, sobbing, coming apart by the seams, and he took it all in, breathing high and wide from witnessing what he was doing to her.

It was a slow and tense shattering but turned messier after: into sloppy writhing and moaning, and he moved gracefully to ride it out with her. An absolute ace at what he did.

He might've said something, cheering her on with That's it or Fuckin' beautiful or something like that. She couldn't hear it, and it didn't really matter anyway. The looting was sweet, and he was the perfect fit, so fulfilling, still inside her after the waves had passed. They were breathing into each other, holding the space, sustaining the present moment just by being entangled together, all limbs and breath and sweat on sweat. When he ultimately pulled out, the hand joined the one wrapped around her, holding her like the most precious thing in the universe.

Her depression was gone, the man supporting her being a better cure for her condition than any kind of antidepressant ever invented by Western medical professionals could ever be. There was no fear, only a terrible will to live, a hunger for love and life.

It felt too lame a thing to say: I love you, in that kind of a moment. But something needed to be said. It wanted to come out like a wild thing from a cage.

"You brought me back to life," she whispered to the pulse on his neck, tasting both their salt, feeling like crying again, but this time for a different reason. "When we met. And every day after."

He was calm and still, frozen in time, but she could feel his heart thundering underneath that chest. Fast and overwhelmed.

"You're good at so much more than just killing people. I hope you know that."

The world could use another flood, but he chose to be the floodgate, chose to fight back mass destruction and death and darkness while looking like it. A hero, if there ever was one.

Simon didn't just take lives. He saved them.

"You saved my life, Simon." She stirred a little to look at him, wholly stripped of all his masks.

"There.. Finally shut you up."

He swallowed, and a steady hand brushed the nape of her neck, dissolving the tension if there still was any left.

"Yeah."

The soft silence covered them like a blanket until he bore even deeper.

"I'm glad you could finally join us."

And she realized he was talking about the Game. Their game. The poker game.

She had been a player while he had been here all along with palms facing upwards, with no cards at all. Just waiting for her to catch on.

"Yeah. I'm here."

"'Atta girl."

The kiss was gentle and slow. He grunted in her mouth, and when she withdrew to look at what was wrong, he opened and closed his jaw, then rubbed the side of his chin that had begun to swell a little.

"You hit hard for a historian."

Oh God.

She felt bad, but not bad enough to suppress a chortle.

"Remarkably hard for a woman. Almost dislocated a jaw," he continued when he saw she was laughing at the whole situation.

"I hope it swells real bad," she chuckled. He cast her a look that said So much for sweetness.

"You're ruthless."

"Do you need ice?"

"A kiss'll do."

She didn't deny him that kiss. She wasn't that ruthless. But after that soft peck, she turned to whisper in his ear.

"You deserved it."

He scoffed lightly, gave her a squeeze. It was the middle of the night, but it felt like the midsummer sun was shining.

"You deserve the best."

"And you're the best?" She asked, while they both already knew he was.

"I try to be."

That was probably the most humble thing she had ever heard him say, but then again, when had his arrogance ever been ego? He had always delivered. He was a soldier, but he was not a killer. He was a protector.

But if he would protect her by leaving her in peace, she would start a war of her own.

"Then don't leave me."

"Never."

Her heart skipped a beat, then fluttered flush against her ribs like an overjoyed bird.

"Is that a promise?"

She caught a smile, cocky, but only because he knew he was the best man for the job. He was best at what he did, and it had nothing to do with games.

"It's a vow."

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