#AND HE CANNOT LOOK AT YOU IN THE EYES FOR THE REST OF THE DAY
Text
p power
rafe cameron
“take it from him and i leave him with nothing”
summary- john b cheats on you with sarah cameron you get revenge by getting with her brother
warning- DUBCON, sex under the influence, raw sex (wrap it folks), drinking, smoking, partying, fighting, sex tape (reader knows hes recording but doesnt know he sent it to her ex), semi public beach house sex, meanish pussy drunk rafe lol
you took a hit of your pen, gently coughing from the amount you just inhaled. you were currently in your boyfriends room, confronting him. you had caught john b cheating on you with sarah cameron, kook princess and someone you thought was your friend.
“can you not do that in my room? take this seriously.” john b said swiping his hands in the air to get rid of the cloud puffs floating. you scoffed, the audacity.
“i dont give a fuck about what youre asking for me to do right now john b, you cannot be for real about me taking this seriously.”
“i dont know what to tell you, she was going through something. she needed me.” john b gave his bullshit excuse which made you even more angry.
“what about me, did you even think about me for one bit before you decided to fuck her ?” you screamed at him, getting up from the couch ready to leave the room. as you have your hand on handle, john b grabs it. his large hand covers yours.
“i love you.. please” he pleads, eyes getting wetter.
“dont touch me with that dirty ass hand john b, i shouldve known. no matter how much i showed my love for you, no matter how much i cared. you will always choose her.” you gritted through your teeth.
“i-”
“no, its okay. im done with this shit.” your voice cracks and you slam the door in front of john b's face, driving away with tears blurring your vision.
AT THE PARTY
you strut your way into the party, the annual bonfire that happens the same week every year. you grab a pink solo cup and fill it to the brim with jungle juice. you had already pregamed before and begged your friend to drive you here, laughing at yourself when you caught yourself tripping over the pile of beer cans on the floor. obvious that you were feeling the effects of the weed and alcohol combining.
you were tired, physically and mentally, you couldnt deal with anyones bullshit anymore. especially after what happened earlier in the day, you just needed a break.
“what are you doing here ?” you heard a voice question from behind, you turned and saw rafe cameron looking at you up and down.
“oh hey rafey, nothing honestly just trying to forget shit you know ?” you down the rest of your drink and turn again to retrieve another cup. before you can take a sip out of it, it gets knocked down by rafe. who angrily walks over to john b and sarah cameron who were conversing with each other in the corner.
oh shit
“the fuck are you doing bro? chill.” john b says and backs up. sarah tries to intervene by calling his name and you just stand there interested in what was about to happen.
“you feel good about yourself ??” rafe pushes john b, getting ready to instigate a fight. you fight the urge to run up and defend your man. but you stayed still.
this is what he deserves
sarah cameron stops her brother in his tracks and tries to stop him, he ignores her.
oh yeah try to get him to stop, cheater.
“looks like you got my sloppy seconds... good luck with that. shes a real handful” john b insensitively says, rafe continues his way toward him. and within a second throws a hard punch to his face. john b falls to the ground and rafe looks over him.
“you like that shit johnny ? huh ?” he moves and hovers over john b's body, and continues to beat him unconscious. kiaras dad finally pulls them apart, and you walk over to rafe checking to see if he was okay. sarah starts to angrily push rafe, but he doesnt budge.
“sarah you better stop that shit before you end up on the ground just like john b.” you glared at her angrily and pushed her away before gently grabbing rafes arm and walking away with him.
……..
“jeez rafe you really fucked him up…” you said while wiping the blood off his knuckles with disinfectant. he winces when you finishes it off with ointment.
“yeah i dont know what i was thinking, i just.. its just that he pisses me off so much an-” rafe drunkingly rambled, you hesitated. but then losing to your own thoughts you grab his face and kiss him. you quickly pull away fluttering your lashes, mouth slightly open. taking short deep breaths in and out, nothing but the sound of waves crashing could be heard.
“fuck im sorry.” your voice cracked, tears forming in your eyes. you even shocked yourself with that action, moving your hand from your face you fidget with your bikini top. rafe then gently grabs your face and makes eye contact, kissing back but with more passion. everything in the room starts to blur and your focus is only on him. he pulls away and begins to hover over you. cornering you further into the plush couch.
“nah don’t apologize.. just kiss me back” rafe whispers into your ear making his way down to your neck, giving it light kisses and sucks. his hands wander around your body, you begin to grow desperate and grind yourself onto his thigh, hands rubbing his back. you grabbed his hair to pull him closer to you, he groans in response.
"you dont understand how badly i want you.." he kisses you deeper.
"..how badly i wanted to do this." he backs up and takes off his shirt, his abs and buff body glistening from the ocean water combined with the low light of the moon. he lowers himself and his hands reach for your bottoms, untying them then tossing them onto the floor.
your breathing hitches when you feel his cool breath on your pussy, rafes arms grab at your thighs and spread your legs open.
"oh fuckkk" you lightly moaned when you felt his tongue on your clit making slow but rough licks. rafe laughs and moans into you, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. he looks up at your and makes eye contact with your glossy glazed over eyes.
"you taste so fucking good." he continues to lap at your juices, you looked at the blonde. dazed and memorized by how pretty he was. forgetting all your worries and troubles because of how good he worked his mouth. it was over for you when you felt his fingers prod at your entrance.
the combination of his long thick fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy and his mouth on your clit drove you over the edge.
"fuck, you gonna cum f'me? please cum baby." he slurps and fingers you faster, your chest heaves up and down before you cum all over his face and make a mess. but rafe doesnt stop there, he removes his fingers and uses both his arms to hold your legs open. continuing to eat you out.
"oh my go- fu- please.. too much! rafe please sto-" you mewl trying to close your legs to no avail.
"uh uh stay still f'me" rafe tuts, eventually he stops and gets up, his mouth and chin dripping with your juices. he grabs your jaw and kisses you before taking off his shorts, the classic calvin klein banding accentuates his v line and you could see his bulge.
you sit up and your fingers hook at the band and pull his boxers down, immediately his cock springs up and hits his stomach. your eyes widened.
"its not gonna fit." you say, his tip is leaking with precum and you fight the urge to swallow him whole right then and there.
"dont worry it will." his hand pushes you back down and he uses his knees to spread your legs. rafe starts to rub himself up and down your pussy, circuling his tip around your clit. and you let out a satisfied hum. he was fighting the urge to just shove himself completely inside you and fuck you deep into the couch. rafe eyes your phone, and leans over to grab it.
he hovers the phone over your face and unlocks it, opening your messages app. he clicks on john bs contact and sees that he left 30+ texts, laughing at the idiot rafe then clicks on the camera feature.
“rafe w-what are you doing?" you asked, closing your legs shyly. your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"dont worry, just trust me." rafe responds, leaning down to kiss you sloppily before he pressed record on the camera. using his free hand to push your thighs apart he moves the camera closer to your bodies, your lower body and his are in view. rafe then uses his fingers to spread your lips, showing the camera your slick. he slides two fingers inside you and gives it a few pumps before he removed them.
"open up f'me." he gently taps your cheek and slides the two fingers into your now open mouth. his long fingers caressing your tongue, automatically you start to suck his fingers. cleaning them.
"thats it... good job baby." he admires the way your plump swollen lips wrapped around his fingers, at this point his cock was aching in need to pump you full of his cum. he must have you.
"please rafe.. need you." you whined and looked up at him, watery eyed and pupils blown. you desperately moved your hips, and thank god he started to rub your aching pussy with his cock again. the both of you were hungry and needy. gentle whines filled the room, and rafe eventually slid himself in.
"oh fuck." rafe dragged out, slowly pushing deeper and deeper inside you.
"youre so tight, holy shit. mmmmm." bottoming out he stayed there for a moment to let you adjust. he was so long and thick, you felt every vein on it in your walls. you seriously had nothing to say, no words could have been let out to describe what you were feeling right now. pure ecstasy.
the both of you continued to say nothing as rafe sped up, drilling harder and faster into your wet pussy. his balls slapping against you ass, nothing could be heard besides moaning and the sound of his rough thrusts. you could barely see anything aside from rafes figure but you were sure that his back and biceps were now covered in scratch marks from you. the bright flash of the camera blinding you, you've never been filmed like this before. and the thought of you being slut out on camera made you even more wet.
"such a good fucking slut for me, youre takin' me so well." his free hand gripping tight on the fat of your hips to guide himself against your sweet spot.
"oh FUCK!" you let out a combination of a moan and scream when he continued to hit that spot, the knot in your stomach growing tighter.
"does your ex fuck you like this?" he slows down his pace, but you were too fucked up to respond.
"huh?" he asked and slid out just to snap hips back into you bringing you back to reality.
"no! oh fu- youre so much bigger.." you moaned, your pussy leaving a white ring at the base of rafes cock.
"yes yes yes. ah!" you whined when he sped up, which you didnt think was possible. rafe was pounding you so hard you were seeing stars. your hand went to cover your mouth but rafe slapped it away, and put it on your lower stomach.
"dont do that i wanna hear you moan f'me."
"you feel that?" rafe asked, you could see his cock bulging from your stomach.
"god- squeezing me so fucking tight..." rafe grunted, and lowered his hand to rub circles on your clit. your mouth slack and open, boobs bouncing up and down from rafes thrusts.
rafe wasnt even sure if he was getting all of this on frame, he was jackhammering into you like he hated you. he relished in the way your cunt clenched around him like you were made for him. and he was sure you were. all perfect, pretty and stupid for him.
"rafe i feel like im gonna pee, stop!" you screamed out and gripped his bicep. your stomach burned in pleasure and you felt like it was going to explode.
"pl-please oh my god, oh... my"
"thats it baby, squirt all over my fucking cock. youre so pretty like this." your eyes started water even more, he was fucking you so good you stared crying. overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions and feelings.
"so cute when you cry for me, if you keep doing that im gonna cum inside you." embarrassed you turn your head away and shake your head, the squelching and sight of your cunt was so sloppy and messy. rafe gripped your jaw and forced you to look at the camera.
"open your eyes sweetheart, keep looking at me." his fingers made their way down to your throat and squeezed.
"fuck." he whimpered, rafe has never done that before. the both of you were shocked but youve never been turned on this much.
"mmm keep doing that, you sound so fucking hot rafe." you urged him.
"im gonna cum, can i cum inside you? please baby" he begged, his thrusts becoming less controlled.
"yes, fuck. i need you to fill me right now. i wanna see your cum dripping out of me, breed me." the both of you were whiney, your cheeks were wet and your legs were shaking and sore.
"shit, you are so perfect.. this pussys so p-perfect." rafes body was tired, rutting into you like you were nothing but a fleshlight. his tip twitching inside you before he came deep into your cervix, making sure to push every ounce of his seed inside you before pulling out. and filming your dripping cunt before he ended the video.
rafe didnt have evil intentions but he wanted to let john b know what he lost, who would want to miss out on a girl like you?
*attached video*
"shes busy rn bro"
5 hours later you were laying next to a knocked out rafe, finally sobering up you went to check your phone. the most recent message being from none other than your ex.
why is he spam texting me?
"what the fuck? youre such a bitch" the text read, confused and curious you decided to scroll up. only to get surprised by a video of you and rafe from earlier. you dropped the phone in shock and turned to see rafe who woke up from the sudden sound. you picked your phone back up and shoved the phone into rafes face.
"whats the fuck is this rafe?!"
#rafe cameron x reader#rafe fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe smut#rafe x y/n#obx#obx fanfiction#outer banks#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks rafe#outer banks smut#rafe fic#rafe x reader#rafe cameron smut#drew starkey#dark rafe cameron#obx fic#outerbanks rafe#rafe x you#smut fic#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#dom rafe cameron#obx smut#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron fanfiction
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Woooo, congrats on 1k followers, sure has been a ride, huh?
Now, with requests back open, it's time time for the sequel to my Arle request!
Okay so, like I said in that ask I sent a while ago, this one takes place in the same "continuity" as the angsty af Arle request you did last req period. This one takes place some time after that story, and is less angsty in this case (but there's definitely still some here).
Here, similarily to the last request, the "Mother" of the House is staying in... let's say Fontaine, tending to one of the injured children (could be some rando kid, or maybe it's one of the Fontaine trio) after a mission. Unlike last time though, it's looking as though the child will pull through, that "Mother" won't have to bury another of her kids!
Bad news tho, the people responsible for the child's injuries are coming around to finish what they started. Arle, who's handling business elsewhere, catches wind of this and makes haste to help her wife.
Little did those who came to finish the child realize what danger they're in. Because you see, fem!reader is a former child of the House of Hearth. Not just that, she's the wife of a Harbinger. Normally she doesn't engage in violence, but these people Hage intentions of ending her child's life, and she simply cannot let that slide.
And so, Arle arrives just in time to bare witness to her s/o going absolutely John Wick (does she kill anyone with a pencil? That's up to you 🤭) on the bandits who dared to cross her not once, but twice.
(Part one)
Ohoho.... I absolutely love this, dear Anon, and I'm hoping you'll love my spin on this as well!! Although I have to admit that I gave it a bit of a mellow end, instead of the "John Wick" type of ending, mainly because I found it more fitting with what I was going for... but anyhow, thank you so much for this request, I was definitely looking forward to it, hehe!!<33
Content: Some gore, Near character death, mentions of near fatal injuries/wounds, blood, mentions of grief/child loss, Reader snapping, violence, assassination attempts, Reader is referred to as "Mother", heavy angst, hurt/comfort, kind of a good ending for once?, stitches
Reader uses she/her pronouns here!!
((Not proofread))
The last one standing had crimson palms. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)
"I... I wish to..." "Shh... not another word, child... don't you dare say it." Your hands were stained red once more, pressing down on another gashing, deep wound, sweat running down your forehead as everyone around you attempted to stop the bleeding. You didn't want him to see what had become of him, one hand resting over his teary eyes to stop your heart from shattering any further. You wished she was here, your dearest wife, who had to choose this week of all the others to leave the country for a short business trip.
And today was supposed to be a good day. One filled with the laughter of children and the smell of grilled sausages and steaks coming from the garden. You were trying to have a little festival together to celebrate the start of warmer months. But the atmosphere had now become suffocating with the smell of sharp iron and sweat instead, the gentle warmth now scorching hot, exhausting, and grinding you down to the bone. However, you couldn't let go of him now. You couldn't let him die. You refused to give up on him, especially. You refused to let him become another buried angel.
His hand pressed against yours weakly, his breaths deep, pathetic gasps for air, as he tried telling you something important through broken cries. "Mother... Mother, please, you have to listen to me." He coughed out, blood staining his lips, as his other hand reached out blindly to grasp onto the fabric of your once white sundress. You furrowed your brows against the darkness of the room, light only filtering in through the moon outside and the shaky hands of Lynette trying to keep a lantern steady so her twin could keep patching his younger brother up.
"What is it, Freminet?" You indulged him, trying to keep him awake at all costs. His voice was hoarse, raspy, once silky blonde hair now sticking to his forehead as he gulped dryly to collect his thoughts.
"They are coming for us, mother... and you are next."
Lyney gave you a look, one filled with an undefined emotion he only ever had when it came to your protection. If you didn't know better, you would've been terrified at how similar he was becoming to his father. "Those assassins we encountered during our mission, Mother... they weren't ordinary ones, to say the least." He muttered to you, his mind replaying the moment one of them struck his brother, who was just trying to protect them out of pure instinct. He was brave, despite the shyness he often portrayed.
"How so?" You wiped away the sweat on your forehead, nose wrinkling when another member of the house handed you a medkit before they disappeared into the shadows again. "They... knew us by name. Every single one of us. And then-" You waved over Lynette to stand in your place whilst her twin spoke, so you could unpack the needed supplies for the upcoming "operation" you had to conduct on your son. You've become a near professional over the years. Something else you didn't choose to do nor want to be.
"-They uttered your name. We... believe that they are trying to weaken Father. And you are that weakness they are seeking, Mother.-" "-They've come to finish the job. We... we need to evacuate everyone.. we need to hide her.-" Lynette hushed Freminet quickly, as she pressed some cloth into his mouth. With a glance downwards to his wound, she determined that it would definitely hurt horribly to stitch him up... but he'd live. For the first time in weeks, someone would live. She closed her eyes to hide those tears that threatened to spill in relief.
You stared at the three of them for a moment before you simply proceeded with placing the first few stitches into the boy's wound wordlessly. He writhed in pain, his fingernails digging into the mattress below whilst his screams and cries were muffled by the cloth. Lyney and Lynette were trying to hold him down, their bodies wincing involuntarily at every sharp breath or movement from their brother. Your expression was meanwhile unreadable, hands moving automatically until you cut the string and were done with your little procedure. It's as if your mind completely fazed out, only driven by the need to fix and protect, keep everyone alive no matter what.
"Lyney." The young man hesitantly met your gaze, his body shaking when his brother fell limply into the bed again, his breathing heavy and uneven. "Evacuate everyone into the upper floors and then come back to watch over Freminet." You said, quick to wipe your hands with a nearby towel nearly coldly, but Lyney knew that look in your eyes. You were sick of it and would take it all into your own hands if your wife couldn't. "Mother, you can't just-" "-Lynette, use the backdoor and let this bird free." You tapped the golden cage on the nightstand with your fingers, the little sparrow chirping curiously. It was a messenger bird, one specifically designed to catch your wife's attention and bring her home instantly when things got out of control.
But you weren't using it for it's purpose tonight. No, everything was completely under control here... you just needed her to come back home to stop you once you're done.
"Mother-" A sharp look made him quickly reconsider what he was about to say, a hand pressing against his chest whilst he bowed. "... we're on it." Lyney muttered, signaling Lynette to love with him, which she did after grabbing the bird cage. Their paths split at the stairs, the girl practically descending them two steps at a time, which got the attention of their fellow bretheren immideatly. "Everyone! Get into the attic or your rooms at once! Mother's orders, so get moving! Barricade your doors and don't open them up to anyone! This is an absolute emergency!" Everyone jumped when they heard the usually playful magicians voice bark out orders harshly, automatically getting the job done as everyone filed up the stairs to do as he said.
Lyney pushed through the crowd to continue looking for stray children who may not have heard him. His heart was racing against his ribcage, sweat dripping off his forehead he could only barely wipe off with a handkerchief he accidentally dropped when someone bumped into him. But your orders were clear in his mind and kept him steady. He knew that he and most, if not all, other kids of the house could take care of themselves just fine... but this was something beyond their means. Something usually only Father got to handle.
By the time he finally got back to his brothers room, you had left it behind, nowhere to be found, and yet the injured boy had a simple blanket covering his shivering form now, dressed in clean clothes and resting on perfectly white bedsheets. Lyney waited by the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly, as he listened to his sisters familiar steps running towards him. He let her in, eyes glancing around the dim hallway one more time before he tipped his hat down and shut the wooden entrance again.
The only sound heard for a moment after was the chirping of a bird in the dead of night until deafening silence filtered in once more.
---
The house of Hearth was never still and unmoving, not even in the darkest parts of the day. The late hours were the busiest, filled with agents and children alike walking in and out of it's doors under the cover of shadows to complete their given tasks and missions. The iron, bloody scent left behind by their previous endeavors, their hushed words to eachother as they passed by, the movement of paper being hidden under floorboards, some given to you with proud looks for approval, as you stayed up with them until the first rays of the sun danced in your eyes... it was never calm, never quiet. Yet the intruders didn't question it. They didn't even think twice to enter the house, the open birdcage. They mistook the silence and stillness for safety.
The first assasin stepped in through the picked lock of a backdoor entrance, his cautious eyes trying to catch any looming danger that may cause them trouble. Yet with nothing in sight, he waved over the rest of his three little friends right into your humble home. "Okay, you know the plan... kill as many of those little rats as you can." "And what about the Mother?" One of them asked, his hair clumsily hidden under a makeshift hood, a dirty grin on his lips in anticipation.
"Can I get rid of her? It won't be much of a struggle, I'm sure. She's just a measly housewife anyway." "Heard she's a pretty thing, though." A round of chuckles filled the kitchen before the first shrugged. "Do what you want. We just have to be done by dawn... let's split up in two groups, then. Just in case." The men agreed, one group making their way upwards, whilst the other searched the ground floors.
The darkness was inviting, the silence emitting a false sense of safety that made the intruders let their guards down, unaware of your form slinking after them. You were calm and collected, eyes dull, the dim moonlight not catching in them anymore. A mother's rage was a dangerous, unpredictable one. Filled with the need to make those who hurt her children suffer, she'd advance even through the most perilous paths for the sake of glory, revenge.
Unbeknownst to anyone, you had put two and two together a long time ago. These intruders, who belonged to a foreign enemy faction, were the cause of many of your children's deaths. They were the reason as to why you had to hear them cry out that odd wish so often. They had dared to enter your territory tonight to take away the rest of the family you had worked so hard for to have. You worked so hard to be a good mother. You bled, you cried, you slaughtered your way here. You became a "mother" one could be proud of. And on this fateful night, you'd prove your worth and pride to even Celestia above you with their screams that will reach far and wide. Your hand gripped a silver dagger, one originally gifted to you by your wife, as you blew out a lantern in one of the hallways, plunging everyone into further darkness that was far from warm.
It was ice cold.
---
"Wait outside." Arlecchino gave the Fatui agents a sharp, warning look, her clawed fingers tight around the Scythe as she entered the still, quiet building she called home. Her eyes glanced around carefully, noting immideatly that the danger that lurked in the dark was familiar. The bird on her shoulder chirped, reminding her of why she had come here in the first place. The meeting she had was cut short by it flying through the window, the call for help loud and clear. She had simply walked out then, her priority always having been you and the house, although it still made her wonder why exactly everything seemed so... unusually silent. Did Lyney and the other children deal with the threat already? If so... where were you?
Her keen ears picked up movement in the living room nearby, which made her calmly make her way over to it's entrance. With a raise of a brow, she stopped when she stepped into a puddle of blood. It seems like her suspicions were partially correct... althkugh who it was that took care of the intruders certainly came as a surprise.
"... You came." Your voice made the tension in her shoulders cease, eyes flickering to your form seated infront of the fireplace. The orange light cascaded across the dark room, the four mangled bodies laying at the bottom of your favorite lavish loveseat being a testament to your victory, and yet you remained still as a statue, back turned to her to observe the flames instead.
"You called." Arlecchino replied after taking in the situation, the sound of her heeled shoe echoing off the walls, as she approached you carefully. Her clawed hand grabbed onto your shoulder, head tilting to look at the side of your head. Your eyes were cold, not even the scorching warmth of the fire melting them. You were unreadable, hands bloody, and yet still so tightly gripping onto the dagger like your life depended on it. And despite that, you were still breathtaking to the woman.
"Are... you alright, my dove?" She asked, a genuine tone in her voice that was only ever reserved for you. The tears in your eyes burned when you finally looked up at her with a pained expression. You weren't like her. You couldn't just kill and be as proud as you hoped to be. You raised your hands towards her, bloody palms raised towards the gods the way they often were when you pleaded for help and forgiveness for the death of your children. You didn't need to say anything anymore, as she pressed a hand to your cheek with an acknowledging nod.
She wasn't good at comfort, nor did she ever try to be. A father didn't comfort his children in her eyes. No, a father simply led them to glory, and that's it. But that didn't mean that she was a bad wife, too. She sat down next to you, uncaring of the bloody mess that surrounded you, when she pulled you close to press your foreheads together. It was a way to silently show her support. She was there for you and understood you.
"I was scared... they hurt Freminet, and I couldn't fathom losing the rest-" "-I know. Thank you for your bravery, my dove. I'll take it from here." Her words were curt and short, and most would perhaps chalk it up to indifference. But when she held you close like this, gently rubbed your back and promised to take care of you only she knew how to, you found yourself being lulled back into the familiar comfort you were so used to. You knew that despite everything that happened, however, she could still not promise that this would never happen again. Your hands will always be stained crimson for as long as you were a Mother. There was no going back. There was no leaving the house.
But... you both were stuck in it together forever, weren't you?
Alrightttt... this took a while to finish, mainly due to work and me being sick again. But yeah, thank you again for the request, Anon, and I hope you liked this!!<33
#genshin impact#genshin impact fanfic#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin arlecchino x reader#genshin arlecchino#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino x you#arlecchino#arlechinno genshin#genshin
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Home, love, family
pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader
genre: fluff
summary: It has been some time since the fighting had ended, the world has started to move on and you find yourself doing the same.
You and Levi decide it is time to start taking the next step towards enjoying the future you fought for.
word count: 1,787
ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56315470
After years spent fighting towards a dream, an ideal world without titans and worry, you now find yourself standing within that once unrealistic future. It didn't come without sacrifice, each tally on your heart continues to weigh it down to this day, but you refuse to stop carrying the souls of your friends. Some part of you likes to believe that while you live on while carrying their memory, they get to experience this new life by your side, wherever they may be.
The world isn't as you had hoped, the price paid seems too high for some, yet you are content to try and put it behind you as much as possible. You fought for too long and lost too much to not make the most of the new world. A sentiment you're glad to share with Levi.
You now stand in awe as you survey the large clearing in the forest, the trees forming a new, more natural wall around you. The ancient bark twists towards the sky and erupts into a sea of green above, you were surprised to see such a gorgeous sight had evaded the rumbling at first, already used to the muddy barren land you and many others had found themselves in.
Your eyes widen when they finally fall on the small, cosy cottage sat proudly within. Flowers surround the building, attracting the attention of the perfectly round bumblebees nearby, happily flittering between each bud without a care in the world. You watch them hover with a small smile, maybe you can finally experience a similar life, having been freed of the bonds of duty. Now free to spend your days working to provide a life for you and Levi, rather than the future of mankind.
You're so distracted by your thoughts that you fail to notice Levi slowly approaching you, taking the time to remove the few bags you had brought from the car.
"And just when I thought we had escaped living behind walls." He mutters as you move to take the bags off him, shooting him a glare as he puts up a small fight despite his cane.
"Oh hush, this is different. We have all the privacy in the world here, a quiet place just for you, me and whoever we allow to visit." You cannot help but grimace, that list of people has grown shockingly short. You shake your head, refusing to let that train of thought continue its rampage through your mind, there are always new bonds to be forged alongside flowers to lay against cold stone memorials.
Noticing your falling mood, Levi steps forward to take the bags back one more, only to place them on the stepping stones leading towards your new home. He then lays his cane on top, before carefully making his way towards you.
Before you can ask him what he's doing, he scoops you up with ease. One hand is securely around your back while the other rests under your knees. The action brings a small squeak out from your lips, the surprise rendering you speechless as you wrap your arms around his neck, staring up at him with wide eyes. He rolls his eyes at your darkening cheeks before walking towards the door, giving it a swift kick all while happily ignoring the offended look you give him in return.
“Hey! We haven’t even officially moved in yet and you’re already being rough with the place.” Your expression downplays your words and you find it hard to keep up the stern tone for long.
“Tch, it’s fine. Do you see any damage? No. Anyways, I’d fix it if there was, it’s not like we don’t have the time for that now.”
You don’t bother to reply, letting the back-and-forth drop before it can grow. Instead, you take the time to study his face, carefully following the jagged scars running along one side of his face. You slowly unwrap one of your hands and bring it to gently stroke along the scar, smiling tenderly as he subtly leans into the action. His eyes are tired, something you are well acquainted with, but recently you have noticed a new light shining within the grey of his eyes, a peace that neither of you had experienced bringing new sensations to your life.
“Time… We have all the time we need now.” You echo his sentiment, watching his eyes soften as he looks down at you with a small smile. You will never get tired of seeing that expression on his face, soaking up the rare sight each time while doing your best to lure it out of him whenever you can. You are momentarily brought back to reality when you feel him shift you in his arms, his face betraying nothing despite the way he continues to favour one of his legs and has swapped to leaning against the wall.
“What are you doing?” You question as your hands come up to straighten out his cravat, the silky material having fallen loose during the long journey you had just taken.
“Carrying you.” His voice is monotone, yet you can feel the mix of exasperation and amusement within his words. You give him a look that shows just how unimpressed you are, you fight off a small grin when he rolls his eyes and continues, “If you didn’t want that answer, you should have been more specific.”
“Okay then, why are you carrying me when last time I checked, I’m not the one with the injured leg?”
At that, he scoffs yet makes no move to release you. Instead, his grip on you tightens and you watch as a small blush dusts his cheeks. He avoids your eyes, instead peering into the half-empty cottage awaiting your arrival.
“Isn’t it a tradition to carry your partner across the threshold of your new home?” His voice is low and his head is held even lower as he does his best to casually hide his expression from your prying eyes. You can’t fight off your blush, now painting your cheeks with a rosy hue to pair with his.
You open your mouth, only to close it, the words escaping you as you try your best to respond, not wanting to leave him squirming. “That’s usually done after a wedding unless you have something to tell me. You didn’t marry me in the night, did you?”
You keep your words as playful as you can with your heart threatening to jump out of your chest and mix itself up in your sentences, the hope you had pushed down over the chaotic months now deciding to slowly crawl back into the front of your mind. The small huff of amusement he gives in reply doesn’t help to push the hope back into its confinements.
“Can’t say I did, that’s something I would want you to remember and knowing you, you’d also make us have some shitty party, with a cake and those brats to celebrate it with.” Levi’s voice is gentle as he gets caught up in his imagination and you find yourself staring up at him, eyes wide with adoration.
“We would have the biggest party, I would invite everyone that we know. You’d be so fed up by the end of the night, utterly sick of the attention and ready to leave.” You rest your head against his chest with a small chuckle, feeling his quiet laughter gently rock your body.
“I can see that a little bit too well. You would insist on dancing with everyone from our squad and I would end up glaring at one of them, probably Connie, for being clumsy and standing on your foot.” You can hear the affection he continues to hold for your old squad laced in his words and find yourself slowly nodding against his chest, your fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt.
“Connie would absolutely be the one to do that, he would panic and then step on my foot. Then he would see your face and panic even more, calling you “Captain Levi” on instinct despite us being retired now,” you slightly lower your voice and speed up your words to mimic the boy’s voice, earning a scoff from Levi. “Then Jean would tease the poor boy, making him get embarrassed while Armin or Mikasa would try to gently de-escalate the pair.”
“And then I would snatch you away in the middle of the commotion and we would sneak out to finally get to spend time together, you complaining the entire time about not saying goodbye.” He finishes your joint daydream with a fond smile and despite the future scenario, you can’t help but notice how similar it sounds to your time in the Scouts. Never having enough time to properly spend together and always having the squad to lead, yet you can’t say you regret it and looking back, you’ve always had a small, albeit very odd, family by your side.
Before you can speak that thought aloud, his voice catches your attention once more and you can feel his body tense up. “Well, we might have done this thing backwards, having just bought a house together already. But I’m not wasting any more time, not again.”
“Levi?” You can’t help the shake in your voice, his words causing a multitude of emotions to swirl in your chest.
“The only logical next step to take is to marry you.”
A small gasp escapes from your lips as his gaze burns into you, neither of you willing to look away and break the moment. You feel your eyes begin to water as your heart overflows with joy, but you blink them away, instead letting out a small chuckle.
“You make it sound like it’s a battle tactic.”
“From the previous conversation, it might as well be.” Levi counters quickly and you can feel him slowly begin to relax as he walks through the door, carrying you into your new life together and gently placing you back onto your feet. Before you can take a moment to savour everything, to let the whirlwind of emotions calm down and be processed, you hear him click his tongue in annoyance. You turn to face him, watching as he drags a slender finger across the dark wood of the stairs handrail, his eyebrows drawn together in disgust.
“This place is covered in dust, before we do anything, it needs to be cleaned. Stay put, I’ll get the bag.”
You can’t help the load groan as you watch him drift back outside. You take the short break to mentally prepare yourself for a long day of scrubbing the floors side by side with the man you love.
#♥. writing#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman#levi x reader#aot x reader#levi ackerman x you#captain levi#aot levi#captain levi x reader#shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#aot#snk
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May Prompts (29)
Day 28 here. Start from the beginning here.
Hero
John Watson is nothing short of a hero.
Doctor. Writer. Veteran.
He will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life.
He is not a hero.
Junkie. Sociopath. Freak.
That John would choose him for a friend is unfathomable. That John could want more, entirely out of the realm of possibility.
It does not compute. It cannot have happened.
Currently, John is looking at him, concern etched on his features.
“Are you okay, Sherlock? You fainted.”
“No, that doesn’t seem right.”
The worry on John’s face morphs into a smile. “Who’s the doctor here?”
He furrows his brow. Perhaps he did faint. Perhaps he hit his head. Perhaps that’s why he hallucinated the conversation with John. But then he sees the gift. “You gave me a Yamaha SV250. And a case decorated with Rosie’s handprint.”
“Err … yes? I mean yes, I did.”
“That doesn’t seem right. Because that means you want to move back. With Rosie.”
The smile gets bigger. “Yes.”
“And this would entail sleeping in my bed. With me. Presumably.”
“Presumably.” And now John looks like the cat that got the canary.
“And I fainted?”
“When I tell everyone the story later, I may use the term swoon.”
His eyes snap to John’s. “You want to tell everyone?”
John’s smile softens. “Yeah, quite badly, actually. I want to move in. I want to sleep in your bed. And I want to tell everyone. Not that anyone will be all that surprised.”
None of this makes sense. “But you … you are … you’re a war hero!” he sputters.
John knits his brow. “I don’t think that’s true and I don’t see how it’d be relevant even if it was.”
“Of course it’s relevant!” he says, sitting up. “War heroes don’t raise families with sociopaths!”
John sighs fondly, reaching out and touching his arm. “It’s a good thing you aren’t a sociopath then.” A pause. “You know, I was just thinking how beautiful protagonists don’t usually end up with minor side characters.”
He scoffs. John can be such a fool sometimes. “I am the not the protagonist, John. I wasn’t even in the story until you came along.”
John chuckles and stands, before reaching out a hand to help him up. “ Well, I am certainly not the protagonist. So who does that leave?”
They both reflexively look up when they hear the sound of tiny feet hitting the ground. A couple seconds later comes the loud squeak of the upstairs door.
“Lock, play!” Rosie yells at the top of her lungs. The speed at which that girl can go from fast asleep to boundless energy is staggering.
John sighs and looks at his watch. “Right on schedule, I suppose. Busy day means short nap.”
“You go lie down, I am the one being summoned,” he says. Despite his fainting/swooning a moment ago, John is the one who needs to rest. He coughs and feels heat rising in his cheeks. “Lie down in … our bed?”
John looks at him with an expression that can only be described as adoration. “Okay, but can I make one request before you go see to the princess upstairs?”
He nods, slowly. Fairly certain, and fairly terrified, of what’s coming.
“Can I kiss you now?”
He nods again. And then, without hesitation, John kisses him. It’s slow and soft and like he’s something precious. And it is terrifying, but in the best possible way.
He’s still not 100% sure this isn’t a hallucination.
He closes his eyes and returns the kiss.
John Watson is nothing short of a hero.
@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias
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Theodore nott fluffy dating head canons please 🥺🥺🥺🥺
AGH YES YIPPEE I LOVE WRITING THESE I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS
Theodore Nott Headcanons <3
Let's get right into it with some basic Theo headcanons, and then some dating ones too!
- Deffo has a Bernese Mountain dog back at home tbh, his mum loved them and got one before she died, and he loves that dog because it's all he really has left of her presence in his home
- Besties with Mattheo since they were both really little
- His mum died when he was eight, in childbirth, when giving birth to his little sister.
- his family is the Slytherin equivalent of the Weasleys, but reversed. He has four older sisters, and two younger sisters.
- Forces Mattheo to help him babysit his sisters
- Lapses into Italian when he gets tired
- Deffo sleeptalks in Italian, and when you first started dating you probably got so confused 😭
- He's really irritating when teaching you Italian, he'll throw in a word into his sentence and then make you look it up in a dictionary
- For sure loves dancing, whether or not you're good, if you're alone and there's music, call yourself Ginger Rogers
- Big fan of hand holding, he likes the feeling of having you that close.
- Hilarious when drunk, drunk words sober thoughts fr. He'll insult Draco's bleach, but then look at you and be like "Amore mio! guarda Matteo, guarda com'è bella! Aspetta, cosa stai facendo? Smettila di guardare la mia ragazza!" (My love! Look Mattheo, look how beautiful she is! Wait, stop looking at my girl!)
- Definitely a cat person besides his Bernese, and would adopt a black cat ASAP
- Would totally be an animagus, probably a black cat or a wolf
- If wolf, he'd maybe let you ride on his back. Only if he was in a good mood though.
- His music taste: Classical, specifically Beethoven, chase Atlantic, Coldplay. Guilty pleasure is Ariana Grande.
- Love language? Teaching you Italian for sure. Although does give presents randomly if he feels like it, but not too often.
- Definitely ambidextrous, and will help you write your homework. He learns how to mimic your handwriting so that if you don't feel good, he can do your homework for you
- convinced he sleeps with so many blankets that trying to find him in that MESS of a bed is impossible 😭
- actually apologises to your teddies if they fall of your bed
- reads poetry to calm down and will write it about you (you'll never see it though)
- definitely the designated driver most of the time 😭
- he's got snacks stashed all over the castle incase you two get hungry but you'll never know where he's hiding them 😭
- he has a resting bitch face until you're in the room
- queen of accidental photo bombs and there is not a single cute picture of you two no matter how
- pookie CANNOT swim. Don't even get him to try 🤡
- he's an ambivert, so mainly introverted with people he doesn't know, but is actually the clown of the group (him and Mattheo)
- He can play cello and double bass, but only plays for you if you ask
- actually the biggest hopeless romantic, Mr Darcy type shit
- Insanely good singer, and will sing to you in Italian
- good at herbology, took it for OWLS and NEWTs and became friends with Neville through it, they partner every day
- his favourite colour is navy
- Will speak Italian to Mattheo, who can speak it too, just to be funny. Like he'll be glaring at Draco and saying to Mattheo:
"So you think firewhiskey is worse than Muggle tequila?"
"Uh yeah, why are we glaring at Draco?"
"I want him to think we're shit talking him. So do you eat crackers when you drink or not?"
"No, gross. Nutella pancakes."
"Sounds... surprisingly good."
- He cannot wink, so he'll pass you a note in class and try but it looks like he's got something in his eye because both his eyes start twitching 😭
- He thinks pick up lines are shit, and won't use them. He will however ask you out politely and take you on a date or a few before he asks you to be his partner.
Hope this is what you were looking for! Love and thanks for the request <3
#theodore nott x fem!reader#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott x you#theodore nott headcanons#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott#harry potter#don't even ask#slytherin#slytherin boys#slytherins#slytherin boys headcanons#slytherin boys fluff#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle
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Imagine you get pregnant with you and Feyd's first child and you very firmly tell him around the seventh month of your pregnancy that you will not be using a wet nurse, or a Nanny. That's your baby and you're not going to just hand them off to someone else to raise.
"I know nobles think seeing their children once a day for tea time is being an involved parent, but respectfully, they're fools." You say firmly. "I will be raising my child personally. You may join me if you wish, it would make me very happy if you would, but do not try and persuade me out of it. If you go behind me back to arrange wet nurses or nannies I will become very unpleasant to live with."
Feyd is just kind of quiet for a moment before saying, "What exactly do babies do?"
You sputter, “What-What do you think they do?”
Feyd clears his throat as he searches for an answer. You have never before witnessed him to be so completely speechless before, and if it wasn’t for the safety of your unborn child at hand, it would’ve been hilarious.
You run a hand over your face and send a quick apology to the child in your womb.
“Alright. What do you know about babies? If anything.”
“I know some things,” he shoots back, defensive.
“Tell me.”
Feyd scratches the back of his neck. “I know that they can’t walk. Or sit. Or grasp anything.”
Mentally, you make a note to yourself not to allow any weapons near your child. “Okay, that’s a good start. Have you ever held a baby before?” He gives you a telling look. Your eyes roll to the ceiling, and you remind yourself to take a deep breath. “It’s not too difficult. They don’t do much at the beginning. You know what, follow me.”
I can imagine reader then taking Feyd through a makeshift child development training😂 Ending with them at the nursery for the noble’s children that both terrifies and intrigues Feyd. Reader could force him to spend the rest of the day there caring for the infants and young children. The nurses are too afraid of him to say no, so they’re forced to babysit him as he navigates childcare.
“No, na-Baron, sir, you can’t press down on their soft spots .”
“Um, na-Baron, that diaper is on backwards.”
“na-Baron, I’m sorry, we absolutely do not encourage fighting —”
“No, na-Baron, you cannot take them home with you.”
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Neighbour!Eddie x Neighbour! Reader
Knock, knock.
Chapter Warnings: 18+ for smut in later parts if you are under 18 you do not belong here, be gone.
AFAB reader, use of the nickname sweetheart. Eddie pov. Reader pov. Fluff, yearning, awkward flirting, angst, jealous reader, depressive state, comfort, mentions of past toxic relationships, dubious explanations of electricals, stress. Strong language. Nightmares. Whispers in the walls. Horror/creepy vibes.
See Masterlist for full list of warnings.
Author note: Thank you for the love on the last chapter, you beautiful humans. I offer to you a vignette chapter that has a bit of everything, some burning in our slow burn between these two
Featuring some new… guests.
As always, all my love to @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing for writing the original prompt that birthed this weird little world and being wonderful.
Extra thanks to Somna for beta reading and letting me use their green carpet Eddie edit for the header💙.
Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Love you bye.
Part 7 - Vignette knots in Lachesis's thread.
“They moved the door.” one whispers
“They moved the door?”
“They moved the door.”
“Broke the hinges.” another hisses
“It doesn't fit.”
Drip.
He's not as quiet as he thinks he is.
It's an obvious hush.
One that floats through the silence of the morning, the cadence of his footsteps is soft but he's all elbows and heavy hands, clumsy movements and low mumbling.
The sound travels in under your bedroom door and pulls you gently from a reality you can't recall, you always drift back under once you hear him leave.
The sound of your alarm however, once chosen because of the relatively pleasant sound now grates immediately and has you reaching out blindly to turn it off as quickly as possible.
Stumbling from your room, the morning sun blinds you as it coats the walls in amber.
Cotton mouth and achy joints accompanying you as you stretch your arms above your head, a breath pausing in your chest as you spot the paper sticking out from underneath your front door.
Heavy ink is partially visible through the page as you pick it up, the paper folded twice into a rough square, the creases off centre and you flick the fanned edges which stick out as you start your morning.
You don't read it yet, you wait until there's hot tea and toast which is overdone on one side to accompany his words. Building a little excitement into the morning before the day gets going into a predictable routine.
Your knuckles press into your grin as your eyes finally take it in.
The first read is always a hurried intake of words, greedily consuming what he has to say. You'll read it again with more clarity once the sleep has been washed from you.
But his plans for the day aren't why you're smiling, there's a second page
“Thought I'd make you a character sheet.”
Apparently you're a rogue, and he's drawn you or, a version of you anyway. It's all crude black lines and blue ballpoint shading, you're grinning, nose high.
“Chaotic good.”
He graces you with the ability to make your own back story but.
“Within reason, I've been writing something in case you ever want to play while we're trapped in the planes.”
A rogue.
You look down at yourself, standing in off white underwear and a t-shirt with bleach stains littering the hems.
Sunlight dapples over the paper where your character stares back at you, and your thumb traces the shape of a sun that rests over the chest.
Emotion bubbles up your throat and you shake your head to rid yourself of it.
Your tea is going cold.
“We cannot keep it out.” One says.
“The tide is sprawling.”
“It's imperceptible, they don't know.”
“Like the frog that slowly boils.” says another.
Drip.
A rouge, only dressed in cotton and oversized socks.
He's starting to wonder again if he's made this all up, if you're a character he's imagined. He'd have a little more control over you though if that was the case, right?
“Do you have to go fucking near it.”
You turn to look over your shoulder at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.
He doesn't know how you're so calm, it's a dream you keep on saying, but it all feels pretty fucking real to him.
His hands itch to pull you back, keep you away, but instead he chews his lip, arms crossed tightly as he watches you with a frown.
“It's fine, I'm just looking.”
Your socked feet toe the line between the back of your couch and the abyss which hums lowly.
It's a near perfect match for the sound that made him feel like he was going to puke up a lung, but it's low, far away and it's the only thing that has come from it in the weeks since.
He still refuses to get close to it though.
He had graduated from sitting on the floor by the light to sitting on the arm of his couch, it juts out at a 90 degree angle from the centre of your own, far enough away to feel acceptable.
Then you'd said he “looked like Gollum perched there.”
So out of spite, he refuses to even go near it again.
You'd apologised, tried to pull him back over, but he's nothing but dedicated to the bit, or stubborn whichever you want to call it.
“You said it could be another world-”
“Full of shit that will suck out your soul.”
His tempers flaring anxiety making his skin feel too tight as he watches you.
“You're not even a tiny bit curious?”
The feeling evaporates as you approach him, arms falling to his side as he rolls his eyes at the same argument you've had almost every time you've seen him since he showed you those books.
“I just don't want to be sucked into oblivion," he says, pressing his fingers to his chest and leaning toward you.
You raise your eyebrows, a smile escaping through pressed lips “What you're into is your own business. ”
He falters at your words.
“Th..That doesn't even make sense.” he tries, his usual quick comebacks are turning to ash and leaving his mind blank as his back straightens uncomfortably.
You just shrug still smiling, and he avoids your eyes, willing his brain to think of something other than… Shit.
He looks past you, eyes searching for something to stop you looking at him.
A coaster sits on the side and he picks it up, turns it over in his hands, and throws it into the void.
It's swallowed without a sound.
Your head whips around to follow it and he slumps.
“Hey! What the hell?”
He goes to speak, something snarky about being ‘curious’ but the wind’s knocked from him as it comes hurtling back, hitting him square in the chest and bouncing limply onto the floor.
His hand immediately grabs at the place it hit, eyes wide and heart thrumming too quick.
You snort loudly from beside him and his eyes dart to you.
“That's not funny.” He says, voice pinched a little as he still grips his shirt.
Muffled laughter slips between your fingers that are now clasped over your mouth and you shake your head.
His nostrils flare, temples already aching from the frown he's wearing, but the longer he looks at you, mirth crinkling the side of your eyes as you try not to laugh, the more he struggles to maintain it.
He sucks at his teeth, eyebrows raising.
“You finished?”
Your eyes flit to the dark and another bubble of laughter breaks free when you look back at him.
“Can you stop going near it, before something grabs you.”
“Boundaries made by man hold little ground,” says one pacing.
“Broken ones even less, the tides will spill.”
“Fix it.” spits another.
Drip.
The days are still long, office life mundane, but the weeks are starting to pass a little quicker.
Home's finally becoming the reprieve that you desperately need, but today the hours have felt longer than you thought possible.
You'd woken like this, a little numb for no reason, a little frayed and tender despite the 8 hours of dreamless sleep. You couldn't shake it, the feeling of ghosts hanging around your neck all day.
Now, the last strands of you are snapping, coming undone with every minute that you wait for the god damn elevator.
It never arrives, and you drag yourself up the stairs at a snail's pace, passing the metal gate that's ajar on the second floor, taunting you.
You don't get on it out of spite.
Your door looms back at you when you reach it, rough wood and mismatched frame, you swallow harshly.
You thought you would feel better when you got home.
But the door feels heavier than usual, muscles in your arm biting out in protest at the force needed to open it and you wince as you fall in the threshold.
A distant chime makes you pause as you slam it closed.
A warped, ringing.
He didn't.
It rings again
He did.
“You bought a bell.” You exhale the words more than you say them, they're meant to hold laughter, but your voice barely lilts.
“I am but a merciful roommate.” He rings it again. “Found it at a thrift store for a buck.”
The sound floats oddly down to you from the scar, gnarled protrusions singing, it makes your teeth sit on edge.
You try to smile to yourself, wordlessly pulling yourself over to the couch and collapsing back as the silence hangs, thick and suffocating.
“Thought you'd be more into it, unless you're secretly into me scaring you” He laughs, but it's a little hollow and you cringe to yourself.
“No,” you say, squeezing your eyes closed, “thanks it's funny. Sorry.”
The silence drags out again, you know he's still there, the lack of heavy footsteps that follow him everywhere absent as you curl into yourself a little. You just want to be alone, want him to leave, want-.
“You okay?”
The question catches somewhere in your chest, like fabric caught in a zipper,makes your breath feel a little uneven.
Because you are okay, it's just.
“I'm fine, it's just, I'm. I'm probably going to hang out in my room tonight. I won't be much company“
“Oh, yeah, uh sure.”
You sit up, an outline of clothing and belongings left in your wake as you move to close out the world.
“You know,” he starts, voice curling down and around you “I'm like here, if you need to talk, or whatever.”
Your footsteps falter, head turning to look toward the crumbling plaster that stares back.
You hug yourself, willing the feeling away.
“Yeah, I know. Thanks Eddie.”
You crawl into bed, not bothering to fully change, just hoping that you will sleep and the tightness in your chest will be gone when you wake.
Sleep doesn't come though, hours passing with eyes closed, consciously drifting in white noise and darkness.
You're not sure what time it is when you hear it, the faint sound of music playing behind the wall, it makes you adjust from where your head’s been buried beneath blankets.
He's playing guitar.
Something soft and repetitive.
A knock sounds against the wall.
You don't knock back, but the weight around your neck lessons a little.
“It didn't work.” One whispers
“They can't be here, if we know.”
“They do too.” another finishes.
“I can hear them already, their laughter’s like mould.”
Drip.
“Do you write a lot of your own stuff?” Your voice is muffled a little from where your head rests awkwardly against the arm of the couch so you can watch him play.
He's moved the couch, a compromise born of an argument the last time you were here.
He didn't want to be anywhere near the abyss, you wanted to keep an eye on it despite it not doing, well anything lately really.
So the couch was moved, backed up towards the wall of light where you now lie watching Eddie, he’s lying on the threadbear carpet adjacent to where your door should be. Playing songs and telling you stories of teenage boys making noise in a garage somewhere in nowhere Indiana.
“Yeah, but I mean we still play the classics, you know, gets the crowd going when there's something they all know.”
He looks relaxed for possibly the first time, that you've seen. Speaking to you with his head tilted, eyes soft and stories of his life tumbling out as you listen.
His fingers lazily pluck a tune as he pries his eyes from you and stares at the ceiling, a low hum falling from his chest as he plays you a song you don't know.
It's almost peaceful, and you take in the halo of hair around him, black tee riding up so alabaster skin shows the start of a tattoo you can't make out, fingers moving, practised motions over the strings.
You blink away the stare, shifting awkwardly and swallowing as your eyes flit up to his which are now closed.
“So do you think you will get together sometime soon?” You say around your tongue which suddenly feels too big for your mouth.
“Last time I saw Grant he said Ruby’s sleeping now, so hopefully we can get in some practice, but it's whatever.” he sighs, fingers pausing their movements. “Everyone's busy, it's fine.”
“It's nice they're so close though.”
He gives you a thoughtful look. It's only for a moment but you see it.
You'd taken him up on his offer to talk, hand forced slightly after your ex had changed his number and managed to call you one night while Eddie was narrating a game show you'd never heard of.
Then it all came out, he'd been quiet, let you talk until you ran out of breath. Then he'd been, sweet, funny and then a little angry. You'd made him promise to just forget about it and he hadn't brought it up since.
But now, every time he speaks about his friends you can see him remember, his face changing, a pause in his words that tells you he's gone somewhere else in his head.
“Eddie.” you warn pulling him back.
A wet rhythmic sound comes from the abyss cutting you off from scolding him.
It gurgles, pops and slithers from different points and Eddie crawls quickly up onto the couch beside you.
Then it's gone, as fast as it came.
The drip sounds louder than before in the silence that's left behind.
You look over the impersonation of your shared living space for anything that may be lurking and realise, his hands holding your forearm, side pressed against yours, like he's ready to drag you away.
You look from where it rests to his face which is still trained on the darkness.
At least you have him.
Kind of.
“They will see it soon, surely.” One says.
“They must.”
“They ignore it.” says another.
“They blind each other.”
Drip.
“Thought he was just sending a mic, shit.” he mumbles, box heavy in his arms as he takes the stairs two at a time.
He feels giddy like a kid on Christmas, it has been a long ass 6 weeks.
The fact you had been paid and ordered your mic, only for it to be delivered the next day made him antsy, checking the mail every day only to be left disappointed.
He's tired of talking into empty space, your voice dipping in and out while he sits uncomfortably in the spots where he can hear you the best.
He wants it to feel, real.
It's too early for you to be home, but he wants to be ready and he barges into the apartment heading straight for the kitchen.
The drawer rattles loudly as he throws it open, and he lets it hang on its runners as he rams a pair of scissors into the layers of tape at the box's seam.
Thick black words tear in half on the address label.
“Sir Eddie Munson”
A letter rests on top and he disgards it, diving into bubble wrap and more layers of tape, shredding the wrapping until he reveals cables, metal boxes and a short boxy mic with a stand.
He stares at it all, displayed out between the ripped apart wrapping and scratches at his jaw.
He's not sure it will work, but if he could pick up your music when the stereo’s were close and you could pick up his then he doesn't see why you couldn't use it sort of like an amp. Speak through it to each other.
Obviously he couldn't tell Henderson that.
“I don't know why you need all this.”
He rolls his eyes, Dustin's voice ringing out inside his head as he reads the letter.
“It's going to sound like shit. Plus you already have a mic and an amp. ”
Had, he thinks bitterly and swallows the irritation that follows the memory of selling them .
He skims over the rambling, half a page of it before the kid finally tells him how to set it up.
He can't just plug it in; he knows that there's no output but it's still pretty simple compared to the convoluted explanations that Dustin’s written, diagrams and all.
He tests it, his voice coming quietly through the speaker as the green light on the screen sits dimly displaying ‘unknown input.’
The sound of your door opening and slamming against the wall makes him jump, a bolt of excitement coming with it.
He falls over his feet through the living room, whipping around before he spots it.
The bell rings out shrill and loud and your laughter fills the space with it.
“You know the bell's kind of redundant if I can hear you running around trying to find it.”
He grins at your snark, “I guess you don't want to know what came in the mail for me today then.”
“It came?!”
Your excitement sends another thrill through him and he grins as you tell him to wait, your belongings clattering as you drop them and you run to get your own stuff.
“Okay. So we set it up where it was the first time?” You say voice coming back to him.
Last time, it seems like so long ago. Before you'd even strolled into his mind in mismatched pyjamas, when he thought he might be dead, for a minute.
“Ready?”
He flicks it back on, the small screen turning pale green again, and his eyes widen as it brightens, numbers rolling across it in quick succession, the silence crackles.
“Testing.”
Your voice comes out through the speaker strong and close and it almost knocks the wind from him as a grin splits his face.
“Did it work?”
“Shit. Hi.” he says, the grin he’s wearing is already aching.
“It works!” The excitement in your voice is palpable, a slight echo ringing out at the volume of it as it leaks through the air.
“Do you think it's just against this wall? Move over to the other side.”
Before he can say anything the line cuts out, screen returning to normal and his stomach drops.
“Are you coming?” your voice calls out from a little further away.
He laughs to himself, feigning irritation “Gimme a second this thing weighs like 30lbs.” He unplugs the behemoth and piles the wires on top, then stares into the empty space.
“Where are you?”
“Kitchen.”
Excitement runs through him, clumsy fingers and hands arranging things quickly in a rush to hear you again.
The switch clicks on and he leans in ready to speak when screeching static roars out, the numbers flying by on the screen in a blur, its increasing in volume like the sound is crawling down the wires.
He yanks the cord out.
“Okay, not there.” You say, nervous laughter evident in the air around him.
His pounding heart slows as he braces a hand on the sideboard.
“Let's try the bedrooms.” Your voice is hesitant as it drifts away and he looks over the wall before turning around as if he'll see you there waiting, he unplugs everything and walks away.
The bedroom works, he should probably say something about what just happened, but you haven't mentioned it either.
Ignoring it is easy when he's here, the worry soon drowned out by laughter and a soft mattress beneath him.
It's comfortable, simple and he doesn't want to leave.
He's ignoring the time.
But you're not.
“Don't you have work?”
He groans, “Yeah.” he looks at the spot beside him where the stereo leans awkwardly against the pillows.
You should be sitting there.
“Think of the money. Work that Munson charm you always tell me about.”
“Tell you about?” he says, pursing his lips and tipping his head back softly against the wall.
“Mhmmm.” There's a tease there in the sound that makes his inside flicker.
“So, you want me to leave?” he says, pitching his voice a little low and equally teasing, a pause follows making him squint, maybe he's read this completely wrong.
“I didn't say that.” Your voice is soft, a little quieter, he expected laughter or an over the top tease.
It catches him off guard, and he nods to himself as a smile creeps onto his face, it drops as he glances over to the clock, he's going to be late.
He takes one last look over your adjoining wall.
“Sweet dreams sweetheart”
“The threads are fraying.” one says, pacing.
“Like spider webs.”
“They're caught, wrapped up.” whispers another.
“Like flies.”
Drip.
Light pours through the dark windows throwing light over him, but he casts no shadow.
“She got it on her like, second go. I swear, that kid's going to be playing the garden before she's out of highschool”
His feet knock against the cabinets below him, the noise ricocheting around the narrow kitchen as you listen to him ramble from your place leaning against the wall across from him.
A story about his last lesson of the day has bled into tangents, multitudes of stories pouring from him about teaching Lizzy.
It's cute, and you've listened in rapt attention as he gushes about her, but the longer he talks the more you have to hold up your smile.
“You care about her a lot,” you say, nails dragging bluntly over a bump on your upper arm, not quite meeting his eye “her mom sounds cool too.”
“Oh fuck yeah, she's the best.” He says leaning forward from where he's sat on the counter.
“Honestly Lizzy wouldn't play half as good if her mom hadn't started her off, I'm just, refining.”He gives you jazz hands and you manage a small smile.
You can imagine them all, raucous laughter, easy interactions. Warmth and hot drinks, maybe a couple of beers at the holidays.
It's making you feel sick.
And it's stupid.
You know it is.
So you swallow it.
But he's perceptive, irritatingly so and his head tips to the side, as big brown eyes try to catch yours.
You can't let him, he'll see.
That you're jealous, in the most mundane way.
Jealous of the people who get to walk down the street with him, go grocery shopping with him, cook with him, watch the skies change over the course of a day with him.
So your feet carry you away, to the end of the room. “Maybe Corroded Coffin and her can go on tour some day.”
You hear his feet hit the floor behind you, plaster and dirt being knocked aside as you draw marks in the dust on the counter, back facing him. You can feel him looking at you and you peek over your shoulder at him.
“What?” Your voice is small and you cough to cover it. Smiling in a faux confusion that you're hoping will make him leave it alone, but he only mimics your expression.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You're being weird.”
“No I'm not.” You clench your teeth at how defensive your tone is, turning to face him fully and leaning back.
“Yeah, you are. We were talking then you just.” he waves a hand over your face. Eyes lingering on yours and pinning you to the counter
“What?”
Please leave it be, you plead into your mind and it's like he heard it, saw it maybe, because his eyes flit away.
He flicks up the lid of a pizza box, making a small sound of approval before pulling out a slice.
“Don't eat that.'' You say nose wrinkled and he pauses, slice mid way to his mouth.
“It's still good, I had it for dinner.”
“That's not the issue.” Your laugh is small but it's there and the tension in your chest lifts a little at the change of subject. “It's pizza from here.”
He shrugs, going to take a bite and you pull at his arm.
“You can't be hungry, we're sleeping.”
“It's fine.” he pulls away his arm and you grimace at him as he takes a bite, his face thoughtful and over exaggerated as he chews.
“You're going to be sick.” You say as you watch him.
It's a sly grin he gives you after he swallows, and he leans in so his face inches closer to yours.
He pulls off another bite, chewing around a smile.
“You're gross.” You can't help the genuine smile in your voice and he grins in return.
Behind the wall away from prying eyes, the darkness twitches at its edges, the scar sparking in time.
“Enough.” says One.
“They will not listen.”
“They cannot, they do not understand.”
“Make them.” Says another standing.
Drip.
Speaking through the stereo has become the new norm over shouting at each other through the ether.
It's odd that a little clarity in his voice feels like such a monumental change, but the ease of just picking up the mic and knowing you'll be able to sit and speak without straining to hear him makes it so much easier to fall into conversation.
Words that were usually kept for morning letters or when you met in your sleep are said over dinner, he reads books aloud to you when there's nothing good on TV, it's comfortable, easy.
There's always been a disconnect, a barrier of the surreal that meant it was easy to switch off, but now.
It's domestic.
You hear him pad over, back from a shower that was needed, “to wash the last house offa him”.
The mic crackles to life across from you “So.”
“So?” You say leaning into it, eyes still trained on your TV as you look for something to watch.
“You got any plans for, sleeping?”
“Any plans for sleeping?” you tease.
“Yeah you know, I'm just pretty tired so I might not be up for reading and, I mean I'll probably head to bed round… 10. So if you want to, carry on.. ”
“I'm pretty tired,” you say, failing to fight off a smile.
“Yeah? Cool, okay. So, what you doing? ”
It's not like you hadn't arranged to meet up in the planes before, but lately the reasons to meet there were less about wanting to explore what lay there and more just wanting to, be there.
As you drift to sleep and then slowly wake to the sound of the drip it sends adrenaline through you, no longer just because of the nightmare-scape that waits outside your door.
He appears through the light as you walk around the edge of the puddle, still slowly growing outside your bedroom door.
Book in hand, thumb jammed between the pages where you left off and a grin on his face.
He looks warm.
Face flushed, hair a mess, sweats hanging off lanky limbs. Comfortable.
“Shall we continue?” He shakes the book in his hand and nods his head towards the couch.
A whisper, in the back of your head that appears from time to time tells you that you're going to regret this.
This isn't right.
What good could come of this?
You smother it.
It's an awkward dance that proceeds you both taking opposing sides of the couch, both deciding to have your feet up, knees curled against the back pillows.
Then he starts.
The couch cushion’s soft beneath your head as you listen, his rings glinting in the light where he holds the book against his knees.
He forgot to take them off again.
Every character has a different voice, memorised words flowing easily from him and you can tell when he finds himself funny, his eyes lifting to yours to see if his inflection has you grinning.
He was made to tell stories.
You're not sure when it started or who started it.
The slow conscious rearrangement of your legs that's closing the gap between you, but both of your feet are edging, painfully slow towards the centre of the couch.
It's not like you've never touched the guy and you're a goddamn adult but, fuck if this doesn't have you feeling like you're back in high-school, all nervous intention covered up in a nonchalant guise
Striped socked toes stretch and adjust towards you and you pretend not to see.
You wait a few minutes, nerves twitching at the muscles in your legs, you nudge yours a little closer and catch his eyes flitting from the book to your feet, he doesn't miss a word, but adjusts himself so that his foot's now parallel to yours.
You press your foot down into the couch cushion and it moves forward a fraction, a fraction more than you thought it would and your foot’s brushing up the side of his.
His voice falters, and you bite your cheek to stifle the smile that's threatening to break out.
He reads on, his toe coming up to rub gently against your ankle, and you're drowning in petulant butterflies which want to crawl out your throat, you lean into it returning the gesture.
Risking a look up, you watch as he talks through a smile.
Something from the corner of your eye flashes in the dark, but when you turn there's nothing there.
…
…
…
There's a sound.
Is it the sea?
It dips in and out.
Waves.
You can't see, your body erased by dense black.
Your feet carry you forward nonetheless.
There's one light, a thin line which stretches over your head to infinity, both in front of you and behind.
“Hello?”
Your voice ricochets back at you from all angles, varying volumes and delays making you flinch and turn in place.
You keep walking, footsteps making no sound.
Dread builds the further you go, the overwhelming sense of everything being wrong.
It's suffocating.
You try to stray from the path you've been walking, but your feet won't move any faster and the line above you never moves from your line of sight, always stretching out to show you a path to nothing, no matter which way you turn.
Then it starts to shake.
Like somebody's pulling the ends taught, causing it to vibrate. The sound of a storm surrounds you, and you watch in unfounded horror as the light breaks, fraying and falling apart, pieces caught and swept away by gusts that you can't feel.
Then it's gone.
Everything.
No sound.
No light.
No up or down, you're not even sure you can feel your feet on the ground anymore.
You're adrift in nothing.
Panic rises to almost the point of hysteria. You can't even move.
“You're not meant to be here.” Comes a voice spoken against the crown of your head.
The scream that rips out your throat rattles your chest as you thrash in the dark.
Frantic knocking comes from behind you but your blood’s still pounding in your ears.
Kicking away your blankets, you back-up until you meet cold wall and the radio beside your bed crackles to life.
The worlds coming into focus too quickly, pixelated shadows dancing in the dark.
Eddie's calling your name almost as frantic as you.
“Sweetheart, I'm fucking begging you here!”
His voice makes its way to you finally, a sob wracking you as you try to breathe, turning on the light, trembling hands pull his voice towards you as far as wire will permit.
You push your head into your knee cradling the microphone to your chest.
“A dream.” you choke out.
“It was just a dream.”
Drip
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Based on the vampire au, Emil and Matthias get close. This is based on a friend's idea
Rated: T | Warnings: none
There is a portrait of you in one of the gallery rooms, a large frame with smaller pictures around you. You look different, same face but your demeanor is different along with the emotionless expression; Joseph says you were not the same person as you were back then. Naib Subedar got a close taste of it when he was “hired” to fight you by both Joseph and yourself (unknowingly at the time). Norton can also recall a glimpse of the Vampire Hunter's skills but the memory is foggy due to him not being in control of himself at the time.
Matthias only has heard stories, seen you spar with Joseph or Naib Subedar, and stare at the portrait of the Hunter who fought the Vampire Lord Bloody Sword… And won.
Joseph is surprisingly humble to admit defeat, probably because of Aesop who gave an unbiased recount of the battle.
Emil also stares at the portrait but only when you are not around in the manor. You currently are with Count's Banquet, a request you did not turn down.
There is enough history between the two of you for Joseph to appear jealous of the man he once was in a relationship with before Aesop. All the others know is that the Count knew you from when you were a novice under a man named ‘Misfit’, the man who taught you everything and one you cared for deeply.
Emil is sitting under your portrait when Matthias finds him, the other vampire talking to you. The others know of Emil's separation issues, it used to cause a lot of problems given your attention and time could not be solely devoted to him. Nowadays, he still gets sad and will not sleep for days, but he also accepts he cannot latch onto you… Not the way he did with Ada.
Ada fed into Emil’s need for dependency, embraced the role of nurturer and lover, but ultimately continued the cycle of dominance over her spawn Emil. This a fact you told him when he had to hear those harsh words of reality, the nature of vampires is complex and a constant power struggle. This is built within them, it takes strength to break the cycle. Emil has only a hundred years, less time away from Ada compared to time with her… He was married to her, loved her, grateful to her, then you一 His eyes hurt from crying all night while in the gallery alone, in the darkness with only the moonlight from the opened curtain as lighting. His hand rises to block the light coming from the hall when the door is opened by… Matthias?
Matthias sees Emil sitting on the floor looking exhausted and hugging his knees; you told Emil he can trust Matthias. You told him he is safe here no matter what everyone looks out for one another. When Matthias sits beside him, Emil’s body stiffens as he is unsure what to do or say. No words are said at first, but a few shared glances before Matthias asks Emil if he has not slept yet. The other man looks over before nodding slowly but then shakes his head slowly, his eyes are swollen, and bloody tears stain his cheeks.
A vampire that does not slumber will feed more than a properly rested vampire. Emil's appetite has increased since he has not slept and he is returning to isolating himself.
When Emil speaks it often catches Matthias off guard how deep Emil's voice is, along with his height as he is an inch or two taller than Matthias. They both are attempting to converse, many moments of silence as they never truly spoke to one another and it is honestly due in part to Matthias's jealousy towards Emil.
You give Emil special attention, the attention he needs and craves, and he has immediate access to you via your bedroom. Matthias is not fond of the fact he has to share.
Matthias moves closer and then bends partly down to hold his hand toward Emil, he offers to rest with Emil in your room.
There they are lying side by side, back to back, Emil fast asleep from exhaustion. Matthias is awake as he never truly sleeps well between nightmares and whispers of the Embrace, plus he is lying in your bed with this man. The jealousy is there, the bitter feelings of Emil who has your attention… Your bodily warmth, your smile, damn sleeping in this bed with you!
Matthias grips the blanket covering him with an angry expression, and then that expression softens to disappointment. Self-deprecating thoughts as of course he cannot do something for himself.
A sigh, his eyes closed but open not even a second later he feels the bed shift multiple times, a whimper, and sharp intake of breaths. Emil is trembling, his hands ripping into the pillows, and blood tears start running down his face.
A nightmare, Matthias understands that— A number of them here understand this. Naib Subedar advised Matthias to not be too hard on Emil, he understood the jealousy though Naib Subedar has Norton.
Matthias turns around shifting closer, hand moving then stopping but ultimately he reaches out.
Emil jolts awake with heavy breathing as he feels the weight of an arm around his chest and back, head turning to see Matthias is close to him. He stares as the other man's eyes are closed.
Nothing is said but Emil turns around to be held properly by Matthias, both finding surprising comfort in one another. The nightmare does not return, the Embrace's voice is silent; a night of peace and comfort.
+
For the few weeks you are gone, this becomes the only way Emil can sleep. Matthias’ feelings shift as he is still envious yet it is not as strong as before. Some nights they talk, and sometimes Emil only listens to Matthias talk about what he is reading before bed, recently Emil has asked for him to pet while he places his head on Matthias’ chest.
Neither have beating hearts yet Emil likes to be this close to Matthias, to be able to hold and comfort each other.
“Can we,” Emil looks at the scars on Matthias' chest, “Sleep in your room next time?”
Matthias is quiet then the question is asked again, “Yes if you want.”
“Thank you.” A yawn after those words and Emil is asleep in no time.
“Seems you two are getting along.” Naib Subedar points out as Emil is following Matthias who is currently carrying around a briefcase holding the accursed puppet.
Matthias glances away.
“I'm glad you aren't alone.” The Mercenary taps the Puppeteer’s shoulder before walking past him to meet up with Frederick and Luca in the piano room, both are having a debate on music. They are loud though they are not shouting at each other, just being passionate as usual.
Emil moves next to Matthias and smiles.
Matthias stares then returns a small smile, “We should get going.”
#idv#identity v#matthias czernin#emil mesmer#idv puppeteer#idv patient#identity v patient#identity v puppeteer#identity v emil#idv matthias#identity v x reader#idv x reader#identity v x you#idv x you
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AMIDST THE STORM ☔️
Suguru Geto x Fem Reader
Summary: After falling out with his friend group, Suguru found himself left behind; he's constantly taking steps backwards while everyone else strides forward. The only person who stuck by his side was you, leaving yourselves excluded from the rest. Your lives have skewed away from what they once were, and he often wonders if you are as unhappy as he assumes you are.
Word count: 2.6k
Contains: Established relationship, Geto with tattoos (+ piercings), smut, oral, penetrative smut, fluff, slice of life, alternative universe: no curses
Note: save me, suguru geto
Since high school concluded, you moved out of your family home into a small apartment downtown with your long-term boyfriend, Suguru. Neither one of you went to college; you invested your time in full-time work while he was out involved in his own business. Whatever he was doing, he was earning money and paying rent—leaving you no reason to be mad at him. It wasn’t a bad life; the two of you had everything you could afford. It’s satisfactory living, not extravagant. While not much about you changed, everything about him did. His attitude, his appearance, and his physical build. You are fully aware of everything going on in his mind, and you do your best to guide him away from those negative emotions, but there is not much you can do; you cannot help someone who does not wish to change. After returning home from work, you decide to prepare dinner, knowing he will arrive shortly after you do.
Two glasses of wine and two bowls of noodles are placed on the dining table; the noodles will have time to cool since he is still yet to appear—perhaps his train was delayed. Just as you were about to shoot him a text, the front door opened cautiously and he stepped inside. His jacket is sopping wet as the windows are pelted with rain, his eyes meeting yours with the same warmth they usually carry. You wait for him to hang his jacket up before you wrap your arms around him, your face nuzzled into the fabric of his sweater. Tobacco and cannabis linger on his skin, a scent he always fails to mask. Breaking apart from him swiftly, you dragged him over to the dinner table, encouraging him to eat since it was still relatively warm. The silence was making you uncomfortable; it was unlike the two of you to be quiet like this. It took him a while of poking at his food before he took a bite, signifying something was on his mind that he was yet to tell you about.
“How was your day?” You hum, running your finger over the rim of the wine glass as he looks up at you, covering his mouth while he finishes chewing.
“Not the worst, what about you?” He places one of his hands on his table, turning it around and motioning for you to put yours on top of it.
“The same as usual. I saw Shoko today, she asked if you were okay.”
“Was Satoru there? I haven’t heard from him in years.”
“No, but he’s doing quite well for himself. He’s a teacher now; would you believe that?”
“A teacher? He hardly paid attention in class; what’s he going to teach those kids?” Suguru snickers, squeezing your fingers as they intertwine with his.
“That’s what I was thinking! I didn’t want to be rude so I told her to send him our best wishes.”
“Yeah, I do hope he’s doing well. Enough of this though,” He pushes his bowl aside and stands up, pulling you with him, “Look at how gorgeous you are. Did you go to work like this?”
“Yes, is it nice? I tried my new makeup out; I wasn’t sure if this blush was my shade or not.”
“It’s lovely, it looks natural.”
“You always know the right things to say,” You beam at him, both hands cupping his face, “Stop flirting with me.”
“Flirting with you? That was a compliment. I can flirt with you if that’s what you want.” His voice was sultry as he slowly walked you backwards, pressing you against the wall.
His body rubbed against yours and you grew flustered from the close vicinity. Even though you were at home, you felt exposed being trapped in a position like this. Fingers snap your jaw up to meet his face while his lips attach to yours, his legs bumping yours as he consumes you. Suguru’s skin was tender, but his actions were rough, a surprisingly pleasant contrast. Failing to learn from previous experiences, you open your mouth and allow your tongues to meet, sending yourself tumbling through a spiral of sensual thoughts. Piercings cover his face, mainly his mouth area; the sensation of the metal on your skin as well as his skilled gestures never fails to arouse you.
“I need this,” Suguru mumbles into your mouth before stepping away, slinging his jumper off to reveal his chiselled figure, “Get on the sofa.”
“The sofa?”
“Please, my head is a fucking mess. I need to just—” Without allowing him time to finish, you fall back over the arm of the sofa and lie flat on top of the blankets.
In seconds, you were stripped down to your lingerie, his pupils wide and his hands exploring you freely. The sound of your heavy breathing was overpowered by the storm outside; thunder crackles and the rain continues hammering against the glass, droplets flying in since it was never closed. Suguru didn’t seem to pay any interest to his surroundings, too focused on groping your breasts until the lights flickered out. He stopped, but he never removed his hands. Your building was experiencing a complete blackout, all electronics were switched off. You place your hand on his forearm and hear him groan, his head drooping down and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. After he successfully wriggled out of the remainder of his clothing, he spoke up.
“I can’t keep living like this. You’re the only thing that gives me a reason to wake up—I’ve lost everything; I’ll never get back what I once had.” Hints of sorrow mixed in with his usual tone; you bury your hand in his hair and scratch his scalp, kissing his forehead in hopes of consoling him.
“Suguru,” You whisper his name, your lips close to his ear. He takes a deep inhale before standing up, rummaging through the pocket of his pants on the floor to pull out a lighter. The candle on the coffee table ignites, providing sparse lighting.
“It’s fine—you don’t need to bother. I had to get it out; it’s all so hard to accept. All I do is work, and all you do is work too—it’s not fair. We could’ve had so much.”
“If it means anything to you, I like what we have. It’s not a lot, but this place has everything I love inside—including you.”
“You shouldn’t have to live like this; we were doing fine until I fell out with my parents. I pushed away every single person I loved; I tried to get rid of you too. That one didn’t work the way I hoped it would though.”
“We’ll get through this together. You don’t have to suffer alone when I’m right here; I’m not going anywhere. You can try as much as you want—I’m not budging.” You sit up and snuggle your head into his arm, his muscles relaxing instantly. All the tension that had surged over him dissipated; the relief that comes from having a person who will always try for you is the cure to his self-destructive actions.
While the two of you were sitting, staring into the flame of the candle, his lips curved up and revealed his gleaming smile. He shakes his head and his bangs scatter, fluttering over his eyes. In a sudden motion, he takes you into his arms and strides into the bedroom, successfully navigating through the dark. The mattress sways as he drops you onto it and climbs on top of you, drawing you into a kiss. Much like all of Suguru’s kisses, they packed passion in their own distinct way. How a face that contains so much sweetness could be so brash in intercourse would surprise many—it shocked you the first time. His lips trace down your core, stopping just before he reaches your panties. He slips his fingers under the material, lacing them up with your slick before teasing your clit. How a woman so gorgeous could be so patient and understanding is like a gift that keeps on giving—your beauty is both internal and external; your energy radiates and allows you to glow like the sun, bringing floods of hope into his life.
You tighten around his fingers, frantically patting around the bed in search of him amongst the darkness. Even though you cannot see him and he’s out of reach, he will always be there. The obscene sound of squelching begins to increase in volume before he takes his fingers out. He leans down and presses a kiss to the side of your face, locking your hands together as he repeats a few phrases of praise in a hushed tone. A bright light flashes, revealing him in front of you as thunder rages from the sky above; in all your years of living, you have never heard rumbles so blistering.
“Suguru,” You mutter his name as he dots a line of pecks along your collarbones, stopping him mid-process. Wind howls and your building experiences a mild tremor from the force it hits, “The window.”
“I’ll close it; see if the lamps work.” He jumps out of bed and slams the window shut, locking out some of the sound. To no avail, flicking the on button of the lamp did nothing.
“It’s not turning on.”
After digging through the bedside table drawer with the flashlight of his phone, he pulls out a small remote and presses all the buttons; after many failed attempts, there is a sudden pop of colour from behind the bed frame. You had convinced him LED lights were essential three years ago even though you had only used them a handful of times; thankfully, the batteries are still functioning. Since no other button works, it’s stuck on a dull shade of violet. Although nothing amusing has happened, you hear Suguru’s silky laugh while he stands up from the floor.
“What?” You tug on his arm, index finger tracing up the length of his tattoo sleeve.
“It reminds me of when we first moved in, that’s all. You were begging me to put those lights up and you never used them.”
“We did use them—I just forgot they were there. At least it's your favourite colour.”
No other person could diminish his negative thoughts other than you; the sight of you melts anything harmful he harbours, instead making him crave the endorphins that come with your presence. For someone to carry so much adoration for someone as unstable as him must have the purest heart; a match that shouldn’t be possible but works significantly well for both parties. He would never burden you with his stress, and he would never expect you to overwork yourself just to please him—you do it all naturally without having to try. Your lipstick is smeared and your once pristine hair a mess, but you couldn’t look bad even if you tried your hardest to do so. His thumb wipes away the smudged trail of makeup and he adjusts some strands of hair, piecing you back together slowly but surely. Your eyes zip down from his pecs to his abdomen; Suguru was toned, not overly hench—just how you like it. With the prolonged sexual tension, both of you were becoming impatient. He took his boxers off and held his dick, stroking up and down the length until he reached the tip. You lean forward, now on your hands and knees as you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip.
Intimacy should always feel comfortable with your partner—that’s one thing you both preach. Pushing anyone out of their comfort zone is not true love or support, it’s a selfish chase for one's own pleasure. If you are willing to sacrifice your partner’s security for your own needs, you are breaking the trust that should always be present. How are you supposed to rely on someone who constantly makes unpredictable decisions at your expense? The foundation of this relationship is strong; a set of principles was acknowledged before the two of you became official. His hand is tangled in your hair, bobbing your head in a rhythm fit to please him. He constantly checks up on you, never removing his hand from your face as he comforts you through the occasional gags.
Not wanting to cum too quickly, he pulls you away, slipping out of your mouth while a glob of your saliva rolls down your chest. Your attention had been completely drawn from the thunderstorm outside, now focused on the flames of desire lighting up inside your core. Bare; no panties or bra—fully exposed for his eyes to explore. He spreads your legs and positions himself in between them, lifting one partially to angle himself better. Vulnerability is one of the most beautiful aspects of sex when you are certain your body will be respected; no shame arises even when you find yourself in the most unflattering positions. Veins trail down from Suguru’s v-line, likely due to his heightened vascularity from the sudden influx in blood flow. He first prods your entrance with the tip, coaxing himself with some of your wetness to aid the penetration. As he inches in further, your breath shakes during an exhale; your nails are digging into the sheets, preparing to adjust when he bottoms out.
Suguru was average size; nothing more than five inches while fully erect—though average doesn’t equate to small, so it still requires some adjustment before he fully begins. Taking into consideration of his girth and stamina—he has always been able to make you cum; knowing how to fuck certainly means more than size. After reaching the deepest point he could, he pulls out and snaps his hips back in, setting the pace. The bed would creak upon occasion, though it was mainly covered by the chaos of nature outside. Being able to moan without alerting the neighbours was a relief, though you had to keep it tame; the walls are only so thick after all.
“You’re too tight,” Suguru grunts, lifting your other leg to find a different spot to hit in hopes of relaxing your muscles. You had your eyes closed, travelling through the satisfaction in your own world until he snapped you out of it with the flick of his fingers on your thigh, “Look at me.”
“You might have saved my life.” He lets out an amused huff, continuing to ruthlessly thrust in and out of you—leaving you to speak between hitched breaths.
“Maybe you realised that there was more worth living for.” You had been aware of his declining mental health status, but what you were not aware of was the paperwork for land to purchase that had become drenched on the window sill in your living area. Soggy beyond repair—the ink smeared down the page. His idea for a revolution was nothing but a bizarre fantasy that deluded his mind—he wanted to preach views he now realises are unrealistic.
His thrusts turned to rutting, both of your moans mixing as his body flops forward. Sweat from his forehead drips onto you while he buries his face into your shoulder, struggling to keep himself upright for much longer. You were bound to cum before him with the spot his tip was prodding, and you did. You came completely undone, both your arms and cunt squeezing him tightly. Gasps and whines reverberate as he chases his relief, exhausting your body while he murmurs out several apologies. In a matter of minutes, the coil of pleasure snapped inside and he released his ropes of cum inside you, taking a few steady breaths before he replied to the sentence the previous conversation was left at.
“The day I see you walking down the aisle will make me realise it was all worth it in the end.” By that time, he has hopes of Satoru and Shoko reconsidering their stances and taking him back into their lives. One argument amongst the three had led to such a drastic change—though if he were asked if he could go back, he could confidently admit he wouldn’t. Life requires you to journey down several paths to reach the point you are at today; one minor change may have resulted in this relationship between you and him never forming—a risk he wouldn’t be willing to take.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#geto x reader#geto smut#geto x y/n#oneshot#jjk smut#alternate universe#geto x you#jujutsu kaisen suguru#geto suguru#jjk suguru
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Instincts
(aka, what can be found in the heart, or somewhere like it).
A @flashfictionfridayofficial promptfic.
--
When I first had an inkling of this idea, it was meant to be Link POV of a missing scene from the start of ch3 of Seed of Song. Then Revali stole it, and this prompt got me to finally write it.
(This becomes infinitely funnier after @avenin was doodling sleep-deprived Revali + chick earlier this evening as well. Yes we were watching the same osprey livestream what of it.)
--
The fire crackles and spits, launching red-hot embers into empty space.
Eyes closed, Revali imagines himself back at his Flight Range—comfortably alone and resting, for a little while, just like this: listening to the lapping tongues of the fire and the murmurs of a distant wind...
Imagination only serves to illuminate the utter futility of his wish to be anywhere else. This place is nothing like the Flight Range. The air is much too stuffy; the barracks' stone walls are stifling, and the space doesn't breathe as a building ought. Even the faint whisper of a breeze through the open window does little to keep the suffocating closeness at bay.
The sounds are all wrong, as well: no companionable creak of a hammock-rope overhead; no faint, distant hum of Vah Medoh turning watchful circles through the sky above him.
Instead there's a faint, incessent scratching sound. It goes on for a long, long time.
No, this place is nothing at all like his Flight Range. He is caged in, confined, and is altogether much too warm. He desperately wants to be rid of it. Revali struggles to quash his roiling distaste for being forced into such close quarters with another person. He cannot entirely succeed. It's like standing near an improperly-stored Shock Arrow, an unpleasant prickling that sparks under his skin and turns the tips of his feathers to barbs, leaving him battling the urge to get as far away as he can—
As if sensing the turn of his thoughts, the hatchling startles awake.
Revali cracks open one eye and cranes his head to study it. It doesn't look to be hungry, nor in any kind of significant distress. It roots around in blind, listless confusion, still coming to terms with the world outside its eggshell.
This fragile helpless thing wouldn't have survived a day without a fellow Rito's care. Revali reminds himself it's for the best that he's here, and that its wellbeing hasn't been left to the clumsy, haphazard efforts of a Hylian... but even for him, this is unfamiliar territory. He's largely ignorant of what its care entails. The best he can hope for is to keep the hatchling alive until it can become somebody else's problem.
A disquietening thought, and one which stirs bleak memories better left forgotten.
Revali sighs, repositions the chick so that it is better covered by his folded wing, and closes his eyes once more, chasing the illusion of rest. It remains elusive.
And that damnable scratching won't cease. It nudges at the edge of his hearing, incessant: scrape, scratch, scrape.
Under normal circumstances, the scratch of a metal nib against paper would be a sound familiar enough to be comforting. Revali reaches for the comfort of pen and ink often enough. Today, though, it only makes him long for his diary and the chance to sort through his jumbled, tumultuous thoughts.
He cracks open an eye, affixing his ire on the faint silhouette sat just in front of the hearth. "Would it be so impossible for you to cease that racket?"
The scratch of Link's pen pauses mid-motion. His curious sense of industry doesn't bear the cadence of a letter. The sounds are too elongated for script. Revali finds that disconcerting; he has no idea what Link is up to. He doesn't entirely want to know; only the thought that Link might be reporting back on the root cause of their delay gives him any reason to wonder...
Link's downcast eyes glitter lowly in the light. Revali bristles, certain that it's just a ruse.
"What, pray tell, are you looking at?"
At least Link has the decency of looking somewhat abashed—or whatever is meant to pass for embarrassment on those dull, expressionless features. He puts the pen down in an unhurried motion, blows on the paper—scattering a fine layer of dust in the process—and stoppers up his ink. Only then does he lift his head properly.
"Nothing," he insists.
Once, the sound of Link speaking would have been a novelty — something he never expected to hear. The sporadic proof that he can, and always could, is more jarring than it ought to be. Revali doesn't know what to make of this newfound willingness to...
He's torn away from that thought by the chick, which jerks awake with a high-pitched squeak of distress. The sound hooks into Revali's chest, lodging behind his heart and tugging until he forgets all else. He lowers his head to the hapless infant, trying to determine what might be wrong...
In the corner of his vision, the fire flares. Revali notices it with vague detachment. It's immaterial: the thing that matters most is the chick and whatever is causing it distress. Is it warm enough? too warm? hungry? He doesn't know, and the lack of certainty confounds and frustrates him.
"Here," Link mumbles, passing across the remains of the duck he'd caught earlier.
At that point, it becomes easy to fall back into a rhythm of trying, and trying again, to coax the chick into whatever instincts are driving it. (Revali is more than a little perturbed by the evidence of his own instincts on display.) He doesn't remember what it was like to be an infant as young as this; he has no way of recalling how she managed. If only he could ask. Revali isn't coping at all. He can't even hunt for himself; there's no way he could be the sole provider and guardian of a chick. As galling and infuriating as his presence is, it cannot be denied that Link's insistence on staying has accomplished some good...
—
Revali jolts awake into a night that's almost silent. He listens out for any disturbance. Only the low hum of the Flight Range answers. The murmur of the wind cannot drive the sense of solitude away; it can't fill the hollowed-out void in his chest.
#imprinting is a two-way street#fic: seed of song#prompt fic#FFF255#flash fiction friday#vague inkling of a knife at the end#it leads up to revali's version of ch7#which is the only writing going halfway smoothly at the moment#ginnefic#no alt text#sorry - tumblr wouldn't let me access the menu#i tried to add it but it kept deleting the banner instead#it's the same thing as usual: the prompt number and the week's prompt#with a vaguely allusional graphic
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hi umm if you wouldn't mind......... would u drop the "carmy is autistic" list..... because you're so right he's so autistic-coded but i want to compare notes
You don't know the can of worms that you just opened. Know that I cracked my knuckles and kicked my feet excitedly when I got this ask and I would LOVE to hear your insights too.
This is pretty much the format I used for myself, so I do apologize if there's something wrong with it. Also, this is only my appreciation of it and autism is a spectrum, etc.
Difficulty socializing
- Imitating forms of communication (sign for "sorry", cursing)
- Unable to read when he's being rude (shitty) and need for external confirmation from Sydney
- Uneasy in group gatherings (not joining the rest of the staff for family during his first weeks at The Beef), avoiding social events (never been to a party, misses family reunions)
- Can be gregarious when masking/using costumes - specifically the scene with him pretending to be Logan at the party
- "And [Mikey] had this amazing ability. He could just, he could walk into a room, and he could take the temperature of it instantly. You know, he could just, he could dial it. And, um… I'm not built like that, man. I, um… I didn't have a lot of friends growing up. I had a, a stutter when I was a kid. I was scared to speak half the time. And, uh, I got shitty grades 'cause I couldn't pay attention in school. I didn't get into college. I didn't have any girlfriends. I don't think I'm funny."
Problems with body language
- Cannot read easily when he's being teased/mocked and when he isn't:
- He gets really defensive when Mikey and Richie mention Claire even if they're being genuine and doesn't calm down until Stevie says so.
- He doesn't realize Sydney is joking at first in the alley scene or her outright mocking him in the S3 trailer ("I can sense the sarcasm" "No, no, no. Not sarcasm, snark, contempt even.")
- Asking Sydney constantly what's wrong - he listens intently which suggests that he cares but he genuinely can't pick up on what the problem is
- Lack of eye contact, especially at the beginning, giving priority to looking at the food than whoever he's talking to. He seems more comfortable with looking at Syd and Richie in the eye than the rest.
Difficulty making friends and navigating relationships
- No romantic relationships before Claire (we assume 🤷🏻♀️)
- When Claire called him and told him that Fak said he was his best friend, Carmy took a second to process and then agreed. He genuinely has no idea.
- The whole "a girl who is a friend" debacle
Stimming
- Fiddling with his spoon, shaking hands and blinking hard
- Arguably, also smoking
Routine
-~Consistency~
- "And the routine of the kitchen was so… consistent and exacting and busy and hard and alive"
- Wears almost the same outfit every day (white t-shirt, slacks, coat, apron)
- Doesn't deal well with change
Special interests
- Cooking, drawing, (vintage) fashion - he's really out there cooking in hundred dollar t-shirts and gifting Thom Browne chef whites
- Creative and flourishing in his chosen field ("I felt like I could speak through the food, like I could communicate through creativity. And that kind of confidence, you know, like I was finally… I was good at something, that was so new, and that was so exciting")
- Understanding the world and other people in terms of food
Abnormal sensory response
- Cannot stand certain sounds (~ball breaker~) and doesn't mind others (alarm)
- Possibly heightened sense of taste/smell?
From childhood and more notorious overtime
- Described as weird and shy even as a child
- Stutter
- Bad at school
More notorious under stress
- Meltdowns and lashing out (1x07, 2x10)
- Gets overwhelmed when plans change
- Shutdown/anxiety attack after sleeping with Claire
Not playing cooperatively
- Individualistic and cutthroat in the kitchen
- VERY task focused (when he’s cooking HE IS COOKING)
- Territorial over his things (knife)
- He has a hard time finding a managerial style that suits him, delegating, and motivating the staff
Detail oriented
- Toothbrush cleaning
- The bowl thing in S3 trailer
- His ~everything~ tbh
Depression, anxiety and APD comorbidity
- Having special interests/happy stimming/needs shut down at a young age resulting in a pessimistic mindset (waiting for the other shoe to drop), anxiety attacks and unhealthy attachment styles
- His trauma plays a huge role in this too but autistic children are particularly prone to suffering abuse in silence/staying in toxic environments and relationships
Insomnia
Alexithymia
- "I Googled fun."
- "I guess all the time I feel like I'm kind of trapped because I can't… Describe how I'm feeling. So to ask someone else how they’re feeling, that seems, uh… I don’t know, insane?"
- "I hate this feeling" "What feeling, Carm?" "Uh, I'm not sure."
Black and white thinking
- Difficulty focusing on more than one thing at a time, a very clear example is the majority of S2 when he's trying to juggle a relationship with Claire with opening the restaurant, while actively compartimentalizing the two of them, ignoring Syd's calls while he's out, then Claire's when he's at the restaurant
- At the beginning of S1, he's hanging onto the idea that there's only ONE way to properly run a restaurant
- Whatever "advice" he gets from Al Anon meetings is taken to the extreme, causing most of his fuck ups of S1 (more on this)
- In the same vein, my boy can't understand a metaphor to save his life
I'm keeping track of the list (more or less) here
#thanks for asking! i mean it!#the bear#the bear meta#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#autistic carmy#this feels like another bullet point for my 'is carmy autistic?' ever growing list
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"Levi?"
"Hm?"
"I think you're cute."
"Shut up." He mumbled as he looked away, a blush spreading all the way his neck.
"What? I just said you're pretty."
"Stop. Don't do that."
#HE WILL BLUSH BLUSH#IM TALKING BORDERLINE RED#AND HE CANNOT LOOK AT YOU IN THE EYES FOR THE REST OF THE DAY#Man will malfunction#levi.exe stopped working.#he will walk out the room lmfao#and pretend you don't exist#aot#levi ackerman#levi#captain levi#levi heichou#snk#levi x reader#aot fanfiction#levi thoughts#levi fluff#captain levi x reader#levi x you
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Multiamory May (with ships from a generator):
The boys who carry guilt and love equally
#boyddannyliamstilestheo#twrarepair#twslashship#twedit#moodboard#ok ok ok so. other than Danny they all feel guilt and it is a defining characteristic that shows as either actual guilt or anger#Boyd with Alicia; Liam with Scott; Stiles with Allison and everything the nogitsune did; Theo with Tara and later Scott#but Danny? he also holds weight on himself even if he wasn't responsible (or thought he was responsible) for some sort of death#and. bc we all fuck up our blorbos. what if he began to feel guilt about the Kanima bc he wasn't there for Jackson like he feels#a best friend should've been. the protectiveness of Jackson over Danny in s2 is. it's a lot.#danny gets love with Ethan but it's surface level baybee#he leaves Beacon Hills bc that is what Jackson did and what Boyd does (bc he came back ok he did)#but when Stiles leaves Beacon Hills he begins to realize how tied they all are to the place and they cannot sever that so easily#anyway#with this i'm caught up on number of posts for days of the month!! gonna be queueing up the rest of the month steadily#i looked down and it was already past the 1st so i had to rush out the first handful#we're also entering rarer territory with this one babes *eyes emoji*#i ship literally anything you throw at me and will happily ramble BUT i thought the ship generator would be a fun lil challenge <3#multiamorymay
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Bf!Sukuna who sometimes calls you 'girlfriend' — and not in a flamboyant way
"Girlfriend, c'mere."
"What do you want, girlfriend?"
"Sure, girlfriend."
Bf!Sukuna who loves having your lips on his; he'll just randomly come up to you and slot his lips against yours without a word
Bf!Sukuna who walks around the house shirtless, and teases you by saying, "You should try it out," only to get a pillow thrown at his head
Bf!Sukuna who would pause his video game just for you
Bf!Sukuna who is actually super clingy, and cannot function without having you in a foot radius — but will never admit it
"I'm going to go get groceries now."
"I'll come with you," he said, immediately standing up from the couch.
"I thought you hated errands."
Sukuna shrugged, "'m bored."
Bf!Sukuna who spits in your food when you're not looking
Bf!Sukuna who, when he can't sleep, will just stare at you — a few times, you've woken up to his creepy crimson eyes staring back at you, and you socked him in the jaw
Bf!Sukuna who claims to hate your music, but whenever you two are in the car, he'll always let you handle the aux
Bf!Sukuna who purposely forgets to do your laundry so he can see you be forced to wear his clothes instead
Bf!Sukuna who is the king of keeping eye contact
Bf!Sukuna who'll hover around while you do your makeup and just ask random questions
"What does that do?"
"Why the fuck is it shaped like that?"
"It's almost as big as my dick."
Bf!Sukuna who steals your things and raises them above his head where you can't reach just to mess with you
Bf!Sukuna who never gets cold, and while that may seem like a good thing in the winter because you have a personal heat generator, it is the absolute worst during the summer — you have to ban cuddling because Sukuna is just too damn warm
Bf!Sukuna who doesn't help you bring in groceries, even if your hands are full
Bf!Sukuna who ignores you for the rest of the day if you forget to give him a good morning kiss, or good morning text (if you guys are temporarily apart)
Bf!Sukuna who is good at everything he touches
— a/n: kinda irrelevant if you ask me, but I just had to include this
Bf!Sukuna who pretends to forget if you guys have planned a date together
Bf!Sukuna who gets a hard-on when he sees your angry face; he loves having you pull on his ear and drag him away to a secluded area to hear you yell at him — he thinks you sound so sexy and look so hot
Bf!Sukuna who isn't above doing extreme pda when he sees someone staring at your ass
Bf!Sukuna who whines about going to work, claiming it's boring, but in reality: he just doesn't want to leave you — or vice versa: he doesn't want you to leave for work
Bf!Sukuna who swears up and down he doesn't want kids and hates children, but when he sees you taking care of his little brother Yuuji, he finds himself doing a mental 180°
Bf!Sukuna who goes into a trance staring at your ass
Bf!Sukuna who has no purpose for an Instagram account: you forced him to make one — he never posts on there, but when does, it's only pictures of you and occasionally him and you
Bf!Sukuna who has a drum set in your guys' shared apartment, but refuses to play it for anyone but you, and even then, he only plays to annoy you or wake you up from your nap
Bf!Sukuna who permanently quit smoking when he saw you plugging your nose near him
Bf!Sukuna who enjoys chasing you around the apartment, sometimes with a knife in hand just to make you extra scared
Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee
@r0ckst4rjk (pls lmk if u only want to be tagged in my boy nextdoor series or all of my work)
@lillycore
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i will possess your heart – satoru gojo
-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you.
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k
Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.
Click
January 16th, 4:06 AM
I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.
Click
January 16th, 6:38 PM
My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.
Click
January 19th, 6:11 AM
Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.
Click
January 19th, 8:27 PM
I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it.
Click
January 23rd, 5:13 AM
Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.
Click
January 23rd, 9:53 PM
She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again.
Click
January 28th, 7:06 PM
My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be.
Click
February 2nd, 8:31 AM
I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.
Click
February 5th, 6:21 PM
I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.
That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her.
With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.
He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.
It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area.
Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit.
In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love.
These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?
Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to.
He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces.
Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine.
Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get.
You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.
Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away.
On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you.
“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.
When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you.
There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf.
You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.
Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.
His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month.
“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening.
You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.
His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well.
Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.
Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.
Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?
But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.
Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease.
For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Click
The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.
Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text:
-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)
He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.
-I would love that. What time, my love?
Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.
-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.
Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours.
A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.
Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text:
-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.
You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks.
“What is it?” your coworker asked.
“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face.
Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.
You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.
No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries.
You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now.
“January 16th, 4:06 AM
I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.
When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony.
You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head.
“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner.
“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest.
“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks.
Click
Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you.
“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?”
You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life.
The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting?
Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room.
As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.
He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.
Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.
A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.”
“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.
“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.
He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.
Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue.
A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.”
Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.
“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.
“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”
He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can��t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.
“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.
“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you.
A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy.
Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote.
Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him.
“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”
There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand.
“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”
Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him.
“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”
You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment.
Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”
Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage.
“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”
It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.”
You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening.
“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex.
“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.
Click
The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch.
You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most.
“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.
You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you.
“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours.
author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.
this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol
alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚
© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.
#—written by jade 🌿#jujutsu kaisen writing#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#gojo satoru smut#satoru gojo#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojo smut#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo smut#gojo x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader#satorugojo#gojosatoru#jjk#jujutsukaisen#gojo x you#satoru x reader#satoru smut#jujutsu satoru#gojo#gojo jjk#dead dove fic#dead dove do not eat#bratbby333
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
From the request HERE
Fandom: Call of Duty
Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader
Summary: Only a few more days are left of his short leave and Simon is determined to make every last second count with you. What better way to start the day than buried in between your thighs, helping you wake up by the feeling of his tongue alone and then overstimming you.
Word Count: 4.6 k
Warnings:
The sun has just started to peek itself through the small gap in the blinds covering the window, illuminating the bedroom in enough light that it causes Simon to stir awake with the first signs of life as those brown eyes flutter a few times from the brightness until he comes back into consciousness. Rubbing his bare chest and scratching at the patch of hair on his lower abdomen as he rolls over onto his side to face the other body lying peacefully asleep, his breath hitches at the sight that he’s greeted with.
Your long eyelashes rest delicately against your cheek, your chest slowly rising and falling with your deep, calm inhales and exhales as you still drift mindlessly through your dreams. The covers that are pulled up to your breasts conceal your naked form lying just underneath and the way they cling to your form allows him to follow the contours of your body through the fabric. You are a fucking picture of peaceful beauty.
Damn, you are so perfect he cannot look away and suddenly there is a tenting forming beneath the covers still wrapped around his lower half. It’s not his fault; how is he supposed to keep himself restrained when this is what he gets to wake up to? An ache situates itself in his chest, a gnawing blooming in his stomach to caress all that flawlessness. It is a hunger that only grows stronger the more he gazes until he is compelled to get up.
There are only so many days left in the short bit of leave he has and he wants to make every single second count. That’s why you both find yourselves naked even as you sleep; he needs his body to memorize the way yours feels against his and he needs to fuck you whenever the moment strikes, so there is no sense in wasting any amount of time with superfluous things when you both are about to go months without seeing one another. And right now that is working to his benefit as he wants to shower you with some extra attention to start the day.
Just a taste won’t hurt, he thinks, knowing full well that once he starts there is no stopping. Just till she wakes up.
He moves out from the warmth at your side as carefully as he can to ensure that his movements don’t wake you, not yet. The blanket slips from his unclothed hips as he shifts up onto his knees and positions himself over you, his hands atop the mattress on either side of your body so that he can push himself down your sleeping form while his lips take advantage of all that uncovered skin. Feathery light kisses trail down across the supple flesh of your breasts and over your soft torso as his hot mouth presses delicately into you in adoration for all this beauty that he gets to have all to himself.
All these curves, all this smooth, voluptuous skin always ready for him to caress, it is enough to drive him insane.
Muscles ripple through his bare back as he continues down the line of your body, inching slowly so as not to miss any patch of flesh. He is careful not to drag his face too harshly as he goes along so that the stubble on his jaw won’t prick your skin, opting instead to pick his head up off you as he moves only to lower it back down at the next spot ready to receive his attention. Your skin is heated from being snuggled down in the bed and it invites him to nuzzle his nose into it as he goes.
Simon eventually reaches the edge of the covers that have fallen around your waist from him getting up and he has to lift them out of the way to reveal the rest of your gorgeous body to his yearning mouth. Rolling them back at a leisurely pace, he makes sure not to reveal too much so the cooler air outside of the blanket doesn’t have a chance to make you uncomfortable until the warmth from his lips can keep the skin flushed. Over the curve of your waist, your stomach, your hip bones he places his steamy kisses. It is when he gets to your belly button that the anticipation finally hits him that he is getting closer to his favorite spot: that beautiful place in between your thighs.
The mattress creaks under his weight as he arrives at the foot of the bed so that he can remove the covers and push them off your legs. He can feel his cock throb as he pulls them back and finds what he’s always pining for. A heavy exhale falls from his lips and his mouth begins to salivate as he catches that first glimpse of your legs laying splayed open and that sweet little pussy just there waiting for his mouth to embrace.
Simon can’t ever get his fill of it and God, he needs it so bad now that he sees it again. For a split second he thinks about making his movements more pronounced to wake you up, but a sudden intrusion of an idea makes him stop. You had mentioned recently that you were wanting to try something, to be woken up with his tongue lapping against your clit. What kind of man would he be if he never indulged his sweetheart’s fantasies? Today seems as good a day as any to make your dreams come true, not that he ever needs an excuse to get lost in all that goodness between your legs.
There are times when he is so ravenous for your cunt that nothing else will even come close to satisfying that beast inside him, but today he doesn’t want it to be about the harsh and rough… well, not yet; this morning is all about making you so delirious and overstimulated off his tongue only that you won’t be able to get out of bed at all and he can keep you all to himself for the entire fucking day.
Quietly Simon slides himself off the edge of the bed to situate himself kneeling on the carpet so that he can lay his torso on the mattress, giving him a better angle to be able to move in. Your legs are positioned open in such a way that from here he can easily slip his face up in between them and right against you, but he is in no rush. Ever so gently he pins more tender kisses along the soft, supple muscles of your inner thighs, his lips embracing your flesh with silent promises that everything he is fixing to do he is going to do for you only because you deserve it.
His pretty girl, his sweet thing, so perfectly made as if just for him; fuck, do you make him want to worship the ground you walk on.
His eyes catch the goosebumps forming under his breath along your body wherever he places his warm mouth and he cannot help but smile at your automatic physical reaction to him. Even in sleep you know his touch and respond to it.
“My sweet girl,” he whispers in his husky morning voice into your calf as he continues up the length of your leg. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, so goddamn beautiful. I’m one lucky bastard and I ain’t eva’ gonna forget it.”
He continues on without hesitation as he slides all the way up until he is right at the threshold of those delicate petals that he wants his mouth on. A moist heat meets his lips as he leans in and places kiss after kiss to them; never has something felt so perfect pressed against him. If Simon could live between your legs permanently, they would never fucking find the man again.
One of those beefy arms he slips under your leg to prop it up and move it even further out of his way so that he has as much space to work as he needs. Restraining himself from going in fast and heavy isn’t easy, but what he wants is to keep his movements relaxed, not crazed and insatiable like on occasions when he’s had a bad day and just needs to smother against you. No, you deserve the full princess treatment from him and that is what you are going to get. Taking the opposite hand not around your thigh, he uses two of those long, thick fingers to delicately spread apart the lips to get at all that lays in waiting inside.
“There she is,” Simon sighs quietly as he immediately spots that sweet little bean that he desperately wants to suck until it’s swollen and throbbing and then even more until you are coming on his face.
He doesn’t go right for the kill first, instead building the anticipation of your body as he kisses that crease between your petals and your thigh, using his balmy breath to stimulate that sensitive area as he switches sides a few times until he feels you twitch and only then does he continue. Gathering up all the spit in his mouth he collects it on his tongue and presses it through your petals to coat the area until your body can take over. As he pushes that thick muscle into you he catches the sound of a quick rush of air escaping through your nose, followed by a sleepy sigh as you stir.
His movements are tender and intimate, circling the nub with the tip of his tongue and slowly using the pad to make love to your clit. You sigh again heavier this time as you begin to squirm in your sleep the more he strokes, your hips rocking faintly over his face as the sound of your fingers clawing at the fitted sheet is caught. Just a little more stimulation and you aren’t going to be able to stay asleep much longer.
Your quiet, breathy moans become more than whispers now and those amber eyes dart back up to your face over the curves of your body, desperate to watch the subtle changes that ripple across your features as he works at bringing you into consciousness by your pleasure alone so he can witness the very moment you wake.
There is a brightness on the other side of your shut eyelids as you slowly slip back into the realm of consciousness, the sound of your own muted groans filling the quiet around you along with something else you cannot quite distinguish and it feels like you are still dreaming. Then it hits you: there is a familiar glowing, warm sensation in the pit of your stomach that amplifies as you continue waking. Your eyes flutter open as the sensation is so intense that you can’t ignore it anymore and as you look around to gather your bearings you notice that there is a blonde-haired head rocking undisturbed between your thighs.
As you focus you realize that he is staring right back at you and the corners of his eyes crinkle as you feel his lips upturn against your petals; you know he’s pleased with himself at what he is doing. He doesn’t stop or try to speak, he only tightens his grip around your thigh that he has propped on his shoulder and continues to service your clit with his tongue while he presses his face in tighter so that the pressure adds to the stimulation.
The sensation is damn near overwhelming now and you realize that he must have been at this for a bit as it feels like you are about to come. Your head falls back heavy against the pillow as your eyes close to allow the feeling to wash over you completely, needy moans unable to be kept under control fill what was once the silence in the room.
That’s when you feel his lips lock around your clit before he sucks down on it and using the very tip of his tongue he twirls around the bud while his fingers come back into play. He finds your entrances and gently shoves his middle finger inside to rub across your G spot and instantly you can feel your calm shatter into pieces. A euphoric spasm shoots through your entire body, making your limbs start to tingle, and you know by the feeling that it is only a few more moments that remain until you are going to spill.
“Simon, shit…gonna come,” you whimper his name as you grind your head into the pillow. To have so much ecstasy hit you all at once overwhelms you with its intensity and leaves you unable to function. You are about to come, that is all your half-asleep brain can process.
With a few more strokes of that strong muscle and a few more flicks of his finger resting inside you, the pressure building at the base of your spine and the warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach reach their threshold and you spill over the edge with a strong jolt that causes your back to arch up off the bed as you cry out. The force of it makes you buck against Simon’s face, but he is ready and digs his fingers in full force until his hold on you is so secure that he isn’t going anywhere as you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm that crashes over you like a tidal wave.
Fuck, what a way to start the day.
In your sleepy, mind-numbed state, you forget just how voracious your military man can be and mistakenly believe that at any moment he is going to emerge from your thighs and come lay beside you…except instead of letting you go, he doesn’t stop. Simon keeps at it, only slowing his pace down to almost nothing, but not pulling away from you. Instead he sneaks quick breaths by tilting his head to the side so that it exposes his nose to the air before he buries it right back in against your now dripping slit.
“Simon, baby,” you call groggily down to him as you try to wriggle free of his grasp; it’s the only thing you can do to persuade him to release you, “you can take it easy. It’s still early, we got all day.”
Just a second, you need to take a break only so long as to catch your breath.
Simon hears your pleas, but it falls on deaf ears as he does not even budge. His plan is already set in motion and you are not nearly exhausted enough for him to even think about stopping yet. This day needs to stay in the forefront of your mind for at least a few weeks after he leaves and be the specific memory that fuels your desperate masterbating while he’s gone and not able to fix the ache.
“Shh…” he hushes mutedly against you. “I only have a few more days with ya and I wanna give ya my full attention. And this mornin’ I wanna take care of ya. I’m gonna take care a ya so fuckin’ good, baby.”
Is there a way to say no to that? If there is, you can’t find it and don’t want to. Even through the overly sensitive nature of your body right now, you don’t want to deny him a thing, not when he says it like that. And to be honest now that he has you at his mercy, his tongue still stroking along the line of your slit before coming back up to circle the nub, you are starting to want it again too.
Tiny beads of sweat like mist cover over your body as the feeling of Simon’s arms slithering up your torso are felt running through the perspiration, greedy hands searching for your chest without being able to see. Grabbing onto as much of your supple breasts as can fit in his large palms he pinches the nipples and rolls them between his thumb and forefinger to make your heated body burn until you whine out loud as they stiffen at his touch.
“Shi-i-it, Simon,” you say, your speech starting to slur together as the mindless haze floods your thoughts from the activity at your chest that radiates in waves of arousal you can feel throb in your clit. Keep sucking, keep playing with my tits, don’t stop, your mind screams.
Everything outside this is like a distant memory; your body is floating and your mind drunk as you exist only in a world made of pure ecstasy. Your hand reaches down around his arms across your torso to the back of his head where you can press and push him in tighter to your pussy and you hear Simon hum a deep, contented sigh at the feeling of you forcing him to suffocate even more.
Tha’s it baby, drown me, he thinks to himself as some feral part of his brain gets activated.
There is movement in the mattress that shakes your body up and down as Simon begins to grind his aching cock against it, trying to use the friction to relieve some of the pressure in the swollen tip. Hearing your beautiful music while being smothered in your pussy is like a religious experience that is akin to having heaven on earth.
Your glistening thighs are vibrating around Simon's ears and as each flick of his tongue finds its mark you are brought closer to climaxing again as you spiral into sensory overload. Over and over he engages with your core, his mouth filling with your sweet juices, the tip of his tongue playing in such a way it feels like he is signing his name on his favorite part of you.
His name is falling from your lips in pathetic whines now as the only word you can recall in the fog of euphoria that you are trapped in. Every inch of you is wrapped in a cold sweat that feels like you’re about to burst into flames, the muscles in your belly contract rigid as the pressure in your spine increases with every stroke.
Right there, it’s right there. You have to come to release the tension.
And that tightness finally snaps just like that and you come again, this time harsher and more intense than the last. Your thighs lock tightly around Simon’s head as you writhe wildly, your body struggling to take all that immense euphoria that fills up every inch of you.
Lengthy seconds pass as you come back down from that high while the sounds of your whimpers act as a gauge to the man crushed in your leg lock how long he will have left to stay suffocating. Once you settle back down again into the pillows and release his head from your hold does he actually emerge fully to sit up for the first time since he went down.
Twice is enough, right? For anyone else it would be, but for Simon you know the man is still craving more. He wipes away the accumulation of cum and spit glinting in the morning light off the hairs on his chin onto the sheet he has picked up, a contented grin filling his beautifully stark features as he sets the damp fabric aside and stalks back up onto the bed like a lion ready to pounce. Stray kisses embrace your lower abdomen as he sets himself into position kneeling between your legs.
“Ya ready for more a’ me, baby?” he asks, though not waiting long enough for an answer before he is gripping into your hips to pull your body down over him until your butt rests on top of his thighs.
You shake your head back and forth. “Too much, t-too much,” you plead, but that isn’t going to do anything and you know it. He is ravenous.
Simon licks his raw, swollen lips. “But you’re takin’ it all so fuckin’ well. Your legs aren’t even shakin’ that bad yet, sweetheart. Said I was gonna take care ‘a ya good and I think that means ya need more.”
You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry at the thought of going again. “I can’t…I can’t…” you continue, the back of your head digging into the pillow. His fingers run along your inner thighs to send shockwaves of overwhelming ecstasy shooting up your spine to the top of your head and your mouth struggles to form the rest of the words. “Just give me a minute. Please, Si. I don’t think I can go anymore.”
“Yes ya can, beautiful; you’re not done,” he grunts with a sharp inhale as he takes your legs in his grip and lifts them up so that he can rest your calves over his shoulders in a way that will strap you to him. Looking down at you through the gap in your legs he flashes a toothy, mischievous grin that has you shivering with anticipation as the heat from his breath rolls over your stomach. “Come on, sweetheart, I know ya ‘ave a little more in ya. You’re gonna take it all for me, yeah? I want ya ta fuckin’ soak me.”
You’re screwed.
Nodding your head in agreement, he immediately leans his face in until his nose can nuzzle against that overstimulated button and your back harshly arches right off the mattress, hands gripping with iron strength into the bundled up sheets you’ve gathered in your fists. Those long, rough fingers holding up your sides drive deeper into your hips so that you can’t slip away from his face while you buck roughly as the movements of his tongue settle back into a steady rhythm again.
So velvety soft, so warm, so moist, it makes his engorged cock throb hard and can feel it prod into your butt. He is overtaken by a desperate, burning need that floods his veins like wildfire; he wants to bury his face even deeper into you as if he is trying to fuse himself with your body. That feeling in him is unleashed in all its fury and he laps at your cunt faster and harder with each passing minute and your already weakened body is overwhelmed.
“Fuckin’ breathe, sweet thing,” he says in a deep, desperate growl, ripping his face from within you for only long enough to speak the order, as he looks down to see the mixture of pain and pleasure ripple through your brow before he is right back in.
Hot tears are stinging at the rims of your eyes now as your overly sensitive clit is stimulated again, collecting until they finally break over the edge to stream out from the corners and down over your cheeks. Simon stares at them glinting in crystalline drops as they catch the light from the window before they disappear and gather on the pillow behind your head and goddamn are they so beautiful they nearly stop his heart.
This is it, this is the one that will do you in and his mission will finally be accomplished. He is pushing your body to its limit of what it can handle and you take it all so gorgeously. To see his sweet thing so out of her goddamn mind is something he hopes will be ingrained in his memory for the rest of his miserable life.
The heels of your feet dig into the sides of his bare torso until his ribs are stinging under the pinpointed pressure. You don’t know if you have another one in you, but just as the thought burrows into your intoxicated mind you can already feel that gathering warmth in the lower part of your abdomen…except… Something is happening, that feeling of orgasmic pleasure bubbling up in your core is similar, but different.
“Do ya want me ta stop?” he asks with his mouth full, prompted at the feeling.
You whimper pathetically through the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes; as overwhelming as it is, there is no way in hell you can let him stop now. “No,” you say pitifully as you try to push his head back down tighter against you, “don’t, don’t. Please…oh fuck, fuck!!”
“Good girl,” he growls as he dives right back in like he hasn’t already had you twice now.
It’s too much, the pressure is overwhelmingly too intense. A deep sense of release more extreme than any orgasm you’ve ever experienced leads to a gushing sensation from between your legs and you throw your head back as you squeal loud as ever as it just keeps coming. Your body shakes and twitches as everything you have is released onto his face for the last time.
“There ya go,” he praises in between breaths as he strokes you through it, stopping once you lay limply in his grip. “Ride it out for me.”
Legs shaking, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, Simon lowers you back down from his face and notices that his lap is wet and there is a markedly large wet stain soaking into the sheet under you both now. His face is just as coated and Simon is quick to realize what has happened.
You can barely move at this point, but still turn your face back towards him to be met with a very happy and content man gazing back at you with those fiery auburn eyes as he wipes at the moisture covering face to clean it.
“Goddamn,” he says with a grin as he emerges from the same sheet he used before, “my pretty girl gettin’ so worked up she fuckin’ squirts on my face. Ya do know how ta fuckin’ treat me right, baby.”
You’ve never experienced anything quite like it before and are surprised that you are even able to do it in the first place, but if anyone could make you do it, it would be him. For a split second you feel a little self-conscious at this new development, but the way that Simon looks at you as if you have just hung the stars makes you giggle from the combination of nerves and adrenaline and settle back down.
He crawls back up the bed and drops down exhausted, but completely satisfied beside you and once he settles he reaches out to pull you into his steamy, heated embrace, skin to skin against his chest. His hand cradles the back of your head as he simply gazes into your eyes until your breathing slows and only then does he finally go in to kiss the last part of you he has left to claim.
His lips meet yours softly, but with the entirety of his passion for you. This is his little slice of paradise that he cannot help but feel lucky to have. Out of all the shit he’s had to deal with in his life, he found you and that means something to him. That’s why things like this he will never mind doing, not for you. Not if it’s to keep you satisfied.
“Ya know, ya make it so fuckin’ hard for me ta leave,” Simon sighs quietly against your lips as the backs of his coarse fingers caress the delicate skin of your cheek in featherlike strokes. “I gotta make it just as hard for ya. Cause I’m gonna miss ya like hell. Still got two days left; gonna make ‘em count, sweetheart.”
Oh, he will… he definitely will. He always does.
#simon ghost riley#call of duty#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#cod mw2#ghost cod#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley smut#ghost simon riley#simon smut#simon#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost smut#ghost cod smut#ghost call of duty#cod ghost
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