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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

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9/9 Peace in a Lifetime of War

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's make this work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just come back to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A look of I win.

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

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

He allowed her to slap him. Again.

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

It was his fault, not hers.

It was his fault. It was.

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

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

"That's quite enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even… intimidated.

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

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

The tears kept flowing, the world kept quaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's because you are."

A sigh. "Right."

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

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

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

"Comes with the job."

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

"Me too."

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

"Guilty as charged."

"Why are you here, Simon?"

There was a pause, one, two breaths…

"Can't fuckin' live without you."

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

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

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

Scraps…

You never call.

Jesus Christ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sarah. Do ya even like me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

All in.

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

Just say it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This would have to change.

Past torture or not, it would change now.

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

"Hm?"

"Can I be on top?"

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

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

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

"You givin' me a history lesson too?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What's this?"

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

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

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

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

"The root cause of self-destructive behavior can stem from a mental health condition such as depression: overwhelming sadness and loss of interest."

She had drowned herself in self-pity in her cozy little apartment and taken revenge on a shower gel bottle while Simon had gotten himself wounded, nearly killed. Probably spent the last few weeks in a hospital after the operation in whatever medical facility he had been brought to from the field. Without telling her, stubborn and proud as he was. Lying there, with no visitors, thinking it was better to leave her alone…

She knew he had a death wish, but this… This crushed her soul.

"Soap said I should ask you to marry me instead of trying to prove something by killin' myself."

Shit…

More edgy, dark humour — but her insides shuddered.

The axis of melancholia turned and turned. She hadn't told anyone about them, but Simon had. So that someone could deliver the message if need be. Even the thought of a Scottish jarhead appearing at her door and telling her how Lieutenant Simon Riley had been killed in action made her eyes sting.

Soap was a clever man. Much more intelligent than the one between her thighs.

"What am I to do with you," she whispered while placing the lightest, faintest touch on the stretched skin around the injury. The muscles rippled underneath her fingertips, and a soft hiss drew her attention back to his face, but the discomfort was hidden from view before she could decide whether it was caused by her words or her touch.

"A few ideas come to mind," he spoke with his everlasting cheek, even when healing from both gunshot wounds and a broken heart. "Wanna hear?"

"How about you shut your mouth for a change," she offered, gently enough to make it clear that some things should be fixed with another kind of communication.

When she reached to guide him inside her, he was uncommonly solemn. The dry spell had ended at the door already, but that drowsy, flaming rust of a stare caused the cup to overflow. She was slippery as hell, but he was patient, mostly having a ball watching how she went through trial and error to get him in. The intimacy made her flustered, and that stern expression soon turned into a smug one as she fucked up guiding him in smoothly and with finesse.

And it was wishful thinking that Simon would keep his mouth shut.

"Ya need help with that?"

"Shush," she said, knowing it was futile, a laugh bubbling in her chest as she tried to sound convincing with the command. As if she could order someone like Simon around.

He broke again when the thick of him finally pushed in, slow and steady like a reverie.

"Always so fuckin' tight 'n wet for me…"

"You can't just shut it for one minute, can you," she breathed while gliding down the cock that spread her wide — and God, she had longed for that familiar invasion.

"Not with you, sweetheart."

She had barely even started when she saw how his throat worked, then felt him tighten the grip on her waist.

"Did ya have others while I was away?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

The muscles on his jaw tensed, then unwound with a sigh, the heavy-lidded eyes making him look like a man about to pass out.

"Neither did I. Seat's already taken."

The jesting, his laugh, their togetherness — she had missed it so much that it physically hurt.

But at the same time, it felt like they were meeting for the first time. This time with more than just their clothes off. Everything was…amplified, and not just because the lights were on. This was not a lazy Sunday morning fuck under the sheets.

She had been squashed against his chest, but she had never traced the muscles with the tips of her fingers, watched how his nipples grew hard at the contact. She had never quite seen how his jaw clenched, how his abs pulled taut just from a slow roll of her hips. Her hands looked tiny, dainty, when they swept over him – a man made weapon – all corded muscle and uneven skin, tone changing with the map of old and new scars, fresh scratches here and there, ill-healed burn marks and whatnot coating a skin that had seen more than just rough weather. He didn't treat his body like a living, breathing thing; it was simply a tool.

Her past boyfriends had been just that. Boys compared to him. It wasn't just his size, that he was older than her. It wasn't even the map of scars spread over muscles built to withstand and wage war. It was just something so inherently him, a maturity, ripe survival, toughness that came from another age entirely.

She tried to be worthy of him, make love to him in return for all the favors he had so generously given her.

He appeared to enjoy it with the most laid-back attitude she had yet seen on him. She had prepared for intensity, as always, a bit of devilry, but not for that daydreamy stare. That absorbed, blissful look could only be compared to someone easing down on a divan, waiting to be served wine and grapes like they were some Roman deity. Or, in his case, on a lush sofa, waiting for his girl to bring him a scotch after a long day. Maybe take his boots off, and his pants too, kneel and take him in a warm, wet mouth…

God, she was fantasizing about blowing Simon while riding him. But she'd be damned if she didn't serve him that back rub with a happy ending as soon as she had ridden him to the finish line.

"Should do this more often," he noted evenly, echoing her thoughts – and trying to grasp some sliver of control by telling her he liked this. Liked being served.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Can't complain."

And she realized now that she wasn't the one in charge, no. He was looking at her much in the same way as he did when she was up on that stage. Only, he was now both the stage and the pole… and the audience.

Fuck.

Every time she tried to get in control, he did that rear choke on her. Even this turned out to be another counter technique. He was simply enjoying her take her pleasure.

The notion didn't cause fires anymore, other than a flare of licking heat down to where they were joined. Her inner walls had decided that he was a keeper too, gripping him so violently that the tendons on his neck became visible. The callous of his hands traveled upwards to her ribs, and she caught a thought of how he could easily crush her if he wanted to — but he only proceeded to hug her waist with an iron grip to join in the show.

"Keep doin' that and there's gonna be a real mess," he said, voice thick, sending more heat trickle down her spine.

"Isn't that always the case with you?" She was on the brink of laughter now, because it felt stupid that it had taken her so long to enjoy this man to the full.

"Yeah… But you love it. Admit it." He wasn't bulldozing now. Just enticing, eyes glimmering from seeing her so evidently happy.

And she did admit it. She didn't hold back at all. She allowed him to see exactly how much she wanted and admired him, how good he made her feel.

The account started as a steaming, almost pissed-off checklist, a confession rather than a declaration of love. It contained pent-up love and hate, from how he fucked her in the dark to how he drove knives to a wall she didn't even own. But then it turned into a hymn. Nevermind ego; she wanted to stroke his heart and soul. He fucking deserved it.

She told him he was a good man, the best man she had ever known. How she had never loved anyone like this. How she was his, had been from the moment he came to that club. She even told him how big he was and how she had trouble concentrating in class because of it. That she had trouble focusing pretty much anywhere.

How she had cried herself to sleep in his sweatshirt every night after he had left… How she wanted him to never leave again — how she wanted to solve every argument they would have from now on with a hatefuck instead.

At first, he looked at her curiously, probably thinking she was joking. Then his expression turned to a choked-up stun.

“Sarah– Fuckin’ hell…"

Every secret thought from the past five months was laid out before them; every little thing she admired about him from body to soul.

It seemed to be a shock treatment, a little too much all at once, but he was true to his word and didn't complain.

"You're gonna make a grown man cry 'ere."

He didn't cry, but if there was still some invisible wall between them, every last brick was blown apart at this point.

The poker game was finally over, the whole table was cleared of cards and chips and bets.

"Do you even like me… Unbelievable, Simon," she said as a final notion. There was a soft smile, but it wasn't arrogant or vain in her eyes anymore. Just proud, pleased.

God, had she been stupid.

She descended to celebrate, to seal it all with a kiss. He welcomed her with fast allegiance: arms went around her as soon as her breasts pressed against his chest. It was all hunger, but ten times more tender than the starvation at the door. Slow, deliberate, and it went straight to her cunt, gripping him — and of course he responded with a groan, straight into her mouth.

His hips jerked up to meet her, and had she not been in the safe custody of freakishly strong arms, she would've fallen off her ride. And it was high time to investigate whether he had a vulnerable spot in his neck as well.

A sluggish, flat-tongued lick up the column of his throat and some open-mouthed, sloppy kisses sent him contracting from the middle, pushing in, balls deep. She risked a nib, even a soft bite, and eventually, went a bit feral on that neck. It was another jackpot for the both of them.

"I need-.. need you on your back," he had never stuttered like that, out of breath, trying to be polite with a raspy throat. But he wasn't really asking, and it wasn't really mannerly. It was actually a demand.

"Wanna fuck you hard," his voice was so low that it was almost a growl.

Yes.

Yes. Yes, please.

And she knew just the trick that would ensure that he did.

"Hmh. Denied," she said to his neck, and waited for the punishment that was brief and thorough.

"The hell it is."

He rolled over and switched their roles without even pulling out, and just like that, her feeble attempts to be the rebellious first woman turned to dust. But she didn't really mourn the loss. Her Eden resided right here.

"You're such an asshole," she was laughing from mirth and love and the joy of being pressed under that safe weight again.

"Would like to fuck that too someday."

Oh my God..-

She wasn't a blushing lady from Victorian times, but this was a little unexpected, even from him.

"Bet you're even tighter down there… I might just pass out."

Her jaw must've fallen an inch or two, her eyes no doubt shot full of shimmering glee because nothing, absolutely nothing escaped him, and her face was now more than that of a stupefied goldfish.

"I suggest you close that pretty mouth before I-"

She cut him short by sinking nails in his skin — more precisely, his ass. He arched his back with the following thrust, even exposed his throat with a satisfied grunt.

"Lil' wildcat… I could do this all night." It was a pleased chuckle, and her heart hurt — she was constantly calling him annoying, an asshole, a jerk, and he told her she was beautiful, sweet, his girl, or a little wildcat in return…

"Would ya like that?"

She could only nod, time and again, and the sex turned messy, noisy and unhinged, weeks and weeks of frustration and longing dissipating with fucking that spread her thighs wide and made the whole bed wail. Her head hit the frame once or twice before he moved her with an annoyed grunt while she was having a laugh about it, but then she remembered he was injured and that this was a bad idea.

"Your wounds-" she tried to stutter amidst a pounding that had certainly been held back for longer than five months, not to talk of a few weeks.

"I'll live."

She was close, but so was he, and it seemed it was the most difficult decision he had ever made: to choose whether to slow down and grit his teeth or just give into the temptation and spill. A split second, and he chose the latter, and she must've been gawking: all that muscle towering over her went tense, the halved slant between his pecs sheened with sweat.

He came with a long groan and a head rolled back, the tension leaving him in shivers before his head fell back down, chin to the chest. The stare behind those heavy lids was unfocused, heady, drugged.

"Fuck, you're a glorious sight," he said while sweeping a hand over her sternum and closing the giant palm around her throat — nothing brutal or rough, just a little bit of fun that probably shouldn't have made her tighten around him as furiously as it did. It felt like she was one of his victims, held in place by one hand only, as his gaze dropped down to marvel at how his cock disappeared in her and came out all wet. The thrusts were erratic and desperate, the ending throes of ecstasy — must've been a glorious sight indeed.

He wouldn't even pause to enjoy the trip back to earth to the full. He left her, eyes both determined and drunk, cock still half hard, so abruptly that a sad little whimper fled her. But he wasn't gone for long, just settled next to her and gathered her in his arms, wracked with purpose.

She gasped when not one, but two fingers dipped inside, then drove deep to the knuckle.

"Fuck…"

"Will do."

It was a scant substitute for his cock, even with two thick fingers. But he was good, so damn good that it didn't matter.

He did everything right, perfect, precise. Made a mess of the cum that joined the wreckage, played with it, slathered it all over her until she was sticky and wet and the noise was well-nigh filthy.

But even more unbearable was the intimacy, the way her hand found him, the bunching muscles on the forearm, the thumb brushing her clit, his fingers curling in a loose fist while two of them curled inside her…

She wanted to participate, feel the fierce connection that had gained a whole new level. There was a sense of belonging, merging — did he feel it too?

Yeah, he definitely did.

Their gazes were locked, but the depth in his eyes wasn't hunger or will to dominate or even meant for fishing cues, it was pure surrender, actually, it was… love.

"Please," she whispered while he made love to her with both his hand and those eyes, not knowing why she even said that. But he had told her he loved it when she begged, so that's what she did. She would give him every fucking thing he wanted.

The sweltering bronze of his eyes broke a little, his brow gave a minimal tug.

"Simon - Please," the words were a mouthed prayer rather than an audible whisper, and she knew her own gaze was fractured because the warmth in his eyes only spread.

"I got ya," he crushed her in a devout hug while spreading her open, breathed into her ear, all joking gone. It was a solemn pledge, a guarantee.

"Promise I got ya."

This wasn't affection anymore; it was bonding.

She came with a strained whimper in his neck, curled into the hug with thighs trembling and hands grabbing whatever she could: a sheet, a tight muscle. He was an absolute genius for not moving, just stayed inside as her muscles sucked him in with a long, hungry pull that turned into a shudder that went through her whole body.

"Uh, fuh-…" She was cursing, sobbing, coming apart by the seams, and he took it all in, breathing high and wide from witnessing what he was doing to her.

It was a slow and tense shattering but turned messier after: into sloppy writhing and moaning, and he moved gracefully to ride it out with her. An absolute ace at what he did.

He might've said something, cheering her on with That's it or Fuckin' beautiful or something like that. She couldn't hear it, and it didn't really matter anyway. The looting was sweet, and he was the perfect fit, so fulfilling, still inside her after the waves had passed. They were breathing into each other, holding the space, sustaining the present moment just by being entangled together, all limbs and breath and sweat on sweat. When he ultimately pulled out, the hand joined the one wrapped around her, holding her like the most precious thing in the universe.

Her depression was gone, the man supporting her being a better cure for her condition than any kind of antidepressant ever invented by Western medical professionals could ever be. There was no fear, only a terrible will to live, a hunger for love and life.

It felt too lame a thing to say: I love you, in that kind of a moment. But something needed to be said. It wanted to come out like a wild thing from a cage.

"You brought me back to life," she whispered to the pulse on his neck, tasting both their salt, feeling like crying again, but this time for a different reason. "When we met. And every day after."

He was calm and still, frozen in time, but she could feel his heart thundering underneath that chest. Fast and overwhelmed.

"You're good at so much more than just killing people. I hope you know that."

The world could use another flood, but he chose to be the floodgate, chose to fight back mass destruction and death and darkness while looking like it. A hero, if there ever was one.

Simon didn't just take lives. He saved them.

"You saved my life, Simon." She stirred a little to look at him, wholly stripped of all his masks.

"There.. Finally shut you up."

He swallowed, and a steady hand brushed the nape of her neck, dissolving the tension if there still was any left.

"Yeah."

The soft silence covered them like a blanket until he bore even deeper.

"I'm glad you could finally join us."

And she realized he was talking about the Game. Their game. The poker game.

She had been a player while he had been here all along with palms facing upwards, with no cards at all. Just waiting for her to catch on.

"Yeah. I'm here."

"'Atta girl."

The kiss was gentle and slow. He grunted in her mouth, and when she withdrew to look at what was wrong, he opened and closed his jaw, then rubbed the side of his chin that had begun to swell a little.

"You hit hard for a historian."

Oh God.

She felt bad, but not bad enough to suppress a chortle.

"Remarkably hard for a woman. Almost dislocated a jaw," he continued when he saw she was laughing at the whole situation.

"I hope it swells real bad," she chuckled. He cast her a look that said So much for sweetness.

"You're ruthless."

"Do you need ice?"

"A kiss'll do."

She didn't deny him that kiss. She wasn't that ruthless. But after that soft peck, she turned to whisper in his ear.

"You deserved it."

He scoffed lightly, gave her a squeeze. It was the middle of the night, but it felt like the midsummer sun was shining.

"You deserve the best."

"And you're the best?" She asked, while they both already knew he was.

"I try to be."

That was probably the most humble thing she had ever heard him say, but then again, when had his arrogance ever been ego? He had always delivered. He was a soldier, but he was not a killer. He was a protector.

But if he would protect her by leaving her in peace, she would start a war of her own.

"Then don't leave me."

"Never."

Her heart skipped a beat, then fluttered flush against her ribs like an overjoyed bird.

"Is that a promise?"

She caught a smile, cocky, but only because he knew he was the best man for the job. He was best at what he did, and it had nothing to do with games.

"It's a vow."

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x oc #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod fanfic #mw2 smut #man sized #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost x female oc #simon riley x female oc #soft simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #simon ghost riley fic

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calicoheartz · 17 days

Note

need need need more Caitlin head cannons

My Caitlin Clark Headcannons ˚࿐

꣑୧ — summary | just sweet little hcs of cait 💗

— warnings | mainly fluff , some nsfw hcs @ the end

read part 1 here & here

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : trying out a new style of layout so I hope u guys like it !! sorry if this is a tad bit short , trying to dip my toe into the nsfw world !! If yall like it I’ll for sure make a pt 2. Enjoy ◡̈

pride and empowerment ;

as an openly gay couple , you both take huge pride in your relationship and the representation you provide for others.

You both are unapologetically yourselves , inspiring others to embrace their true selves and to love boldly 💗

family bonds ;

Your girlfriend quickly becomes a beloved member of your family , attending holiday gatherings and family dinners with ease.

You guys definitely share inside jokes that creating lasting memories with both of your loved ones, only further deepening your connection

team mascot ;

you become iowas unofficial team mascot.

Best believe you are at every game , donning her team colors and cheering loudly from the sidelines. Your enthusiasm and energy boost Caitlin’s morale and create a strong sense of support among the players !

pet companionship ;

you guys definitely have a dog. argue with a wall.

i hc cait as a dog person , so I don’t think you’d have cats , but obviously she’ll get one for you if you’re a cat person 😊

your pet becomes a integral part of your little family , as it accompanies you to games , or snuggles with the both of you on lazy weekends !

post-game rituals

you both definitely have a set of post-game rituals to help Cait unwind and decompress.

This can range from a relaxing massage , to a hot bath / shower , or maybe even cuddling on the couch with a cheesy romcom

These rituals help Caitlin transition from athlete to girlfriend :)

secret language

over time , you both develop a secret language filled with inside jokes , subtle gestures , and knowing glances that only you two understand.

It becomes a source of comfort and connection for the both of you, especially during tense moments or crowded gatherings

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

please read at your own risk ❤️

she’s definitely a pleasure top. literally prioritizes your pleasure over anythingggg else

maybe a switch ???? She’ll definitely let you pleasure her as well if you wanted to :)

I don’t think she’d be a strap girly (don’t cancel me)

She definitely prefers to actually feel you , so she’d definitely prefer fingering and her tongue over anything

Wants to have you close to her , skin to skin

not the type to leave hickeys on your neck , but will definitely leave them in between your thighs 🫣

omg wait this was so fun to write I might make a strictly nsfw only hcs…also special fic coming tn 👀 as always tysm for reading !

#wlw #wlw imagine #wlw smut #smut #wlw nsft #caitlin clark #caitlin clark smut #caitmylove #headcannons #my hcs #caitlin clark x reader #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #22 #iowa hawkeyes #iowa women’s basketball #Iowa

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e-dubbc11 · 5 months

Text

Bloodstains in the Snow

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Violence, swear words (I think), little fluff.

Word Count: 1.5K-ish

Summary: After a late night job, Billy wanders through the snow, figuring out how he feels about you.

A/N: I wrote this pretty quick but I actually think it’s pretty good, maybe even one of the best things I’ve written. I love writing fluffy Billy but every once in awhile I really enjoy violent/unhinged/unapologetic Billy. But he’s still soft for the person he loves. I hope you like it and hope you all enjoy your holiday season! ♥️

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The late night city sounds were muffled by the heavy flakes of snow as they fluttered quickly to the ground. After the job was finished, he just wandered along the sidewalk looking down at what looked like a carpet of cotton beneath his feet.

His leather and black shearling coat collar pulled up to block the snow from touching the hot skin of his neck and his black beanie covered his ears to protect him from the savage wind that assaulted him from all directions.

He closed his eyes and remembered how much blood was spilled tonight.

He passed bar patrons that had ducked outside quickly for a few drags on their cigarettes before running back inside to get away from the bitter cold.

The scent of ash mixed with the fresh scent of the snow occupied his sense of smell even after he walked past that strip of bars. Stifled music coming from inside the bars was only clear when someone would open the door and muted again once the doors were closed.

Sometimes the desert overseas would get cold at night, but it would never get New York City winter cold. Blood looked brighter against the colorless shroud of snow than on top of the desert sands but spilled blood was spilled blood and it all came from the same source…evil.

Overseas, he spent some nights trying not to die and he flirted with death on more than one occasion. He had wondered if he would die never knowing what it’s like to be truly loved by someone and would he ever have what his best friend Frank had…a loving wife and kids.

“Only the dead have seen the end of war” and Billy Russo wouldn’t go down without fighting. He had done it his entire life…he was a survivor and a fighter. He fought for his life and for his country in wars at home and war overseas but he still didn’t know if he was worthy of love.

If he deserved love, then why did she leave him? Why did she abandon him? He was just a little boy. Did she love him at all? He didn’t know the answer to that and he would never know. Now, he wondered if anyone could love him for who he really is, even with all the things he has done.

Maybe you could be the one to love him.

The picturesque snow drifts were a perfect white under the glow of the city street lamps, his mind then flashed to ribbons of red running through the snow cradling the bodies of the would-be assassins. They had come for the state representative Billy and his team were protecting.

His last thoughts had been of you when he had the large arms of a mob boss wrapped tightly around his neck before Frank put a bullet in between his eyes.

Billy didn’t think twice about killing them all, no regard for any of their lives. He didn’t know if any of them had families or children and he didn’t care. All he knew was he had a job to do and he wanted to go home to you.

The goon had said something in Billy’s ear that caused his muscles to stiffen and his face to flush with rage. “You gotta real pretty girl, Russo. After we’re done with you, we’ll pay her a visit at your penthouse.”

They had threatened you.

It wouldn’t have bothered him if he wasn’t attached to you like he was. Billy was very much in love with you although he didn’t realize he was until your life was endangered.

What if they had taken you away from him? He couldn’t live with himself if that happened. Billy Russo didn’t lose fights and he would fight off the entire world just so he wouldn’t lose you.

The hollow cold stung his lungs as he inhaled the mid-winter air and let out a long exhale when he glanced down at the blood on his hands from the scum who’s throat he had just ripped out. Blood poured out quickly; it could not be contained. That man was now lying in the snow gasping for air he would never get. Billy saw nothing but red until they were all dead.

The rage burned like white hot fire in his veins as he sliced them all from groin to sternum, spilling their insides, disrupting the blanket of white underneath them and then it was over.

A devilish grin extended across Billy’s mouth, his doll-like eyes shined against the stark white snow as he watched their lives fade away forever into the cold; he enjoyed killing even though he knew he shouldn’t.

As he continued to walk against the powerful wind, his lips curled up into a slight smile. You were safe and warm back at his penthouse…probably sound asleep.

Billy didn’t want to think about it but he wondered what it would be like if he never got to sleep next to you again, or you reaching for his shirt collar in your sleep so you could nuzzle into the crook of his neck to keep your nose from getting cold.

When he had nightmares, you didn’t get scared. You were only scared for him and hoped you were doing enough to comfort him. It was more than anyone else had done for him and he welcomed it.

But what if he never got to hear you laugh or see your beautiful smile again? He was never going to give those up; he was never going to give YOU up. Billy started to walk faster into the large snowflakes falling quickly from the sky toward Anvil to get his car.

The walk to clear his head was done and he was ready to go home.

Finally, he was inside the car and out of the smothering cold, he looked at his hands as they grasped the steering wheel. Wind burned and blood stained, it was difficult to not look at them as he carefully drove home.

The snow-covered streets were nearly empty as the clock on the dashboard flashed 2 AM; he drove slowly, being extra careful not to slip and slide all over the road. Billy didn’t survive a night of mob bosses and thugs just to be taken out in a car accident.

When Billy arrived home, he inhaled sharply, unlocked the door and stepped inside. As he closed the door behind him, he exhaled forcefully and removed his boots.

The chill in his bones lingered until the hot water from the shower pelted against his skin, and the scent of your shampoo still hung inside the confines of the shower doors. It was silly but he loved to wash your hair and his mouth went tight with anger when he realized he didn’t get to do that for you tonight.

His tension eased however when he remembered that because you were safe, he would be able to do it the next time. It took a little effort but Billy removed the blood from his hands and from underneath his fingernails; they returned to their normal color and his long skilled fingers, along with the rest of his body, were no longer cold.

He could not wait to hold you.

The soft orange glow of the salt lamp illuminated your face just enough for Billy to see you were fast asleep. You stirred slightly when he pulled the blanket back and let a low whimper escape your lips as he carefully inched closer; he did not want to disturb your sleep.

You were wearing one of his old Marines t-shirts when he reached for you, his hands slipped under the blanket to touch your bare thigh, and your warm skin was soft from the lotion you applied earlier.

The tip of your nose touched the base of Billy’s neck and you wrapped your fingers around the collar of his shirt. The bristles of his beard brushed your shoulder as he pressed his lips against you.

He had never been more relieved to be home.

“I don’t deserve you, sweet girl. The things I’ve done…” He said in barely more than a whisper.

But he did. Billy did deserve to be loved, he was worthy of the love he craved and desired. He had to fight and kill to survive, to live; that didn’t make him a bad person. And now he had another reason to do what he does best…for love.

He did love you, he was sure of it now. “I love you.” Said Billy, softly against your ear.

And you loved him.

As long as there are men like that out there, Billy will always have a war to fight. He will make it his mission to destroy any evil that could take away the love he’s wanted his entire life.

As the snow continued to fall outside your window, the dreamlike picture below outshined the carnage shed outside on the streets tonight.

The tomb-like silence was music to his ears as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep while the blanket of white piled up high, cloaking the red stains left behind. “They won’t be missed.” He said to himself.

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” -Plato

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

Note

can you write a fanfic about emily and R having a daughter?

A mini you

*Authors note~ I took a fair few creative liberties here. I wasn't sure what sides of this you wanted so I decided to try capture all points, I hope that's okay anon*

Trigger warnings~ fluff?

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

When you reach a certain age, it's only natural to think over your younger days. Remembering the good and the bad, reflecting on the years you'd lived. For you, that moment was happening now as you and your wife were getting ready to attend a wedding.

Emily and yourself were high school sweethearts, the kind that everyone just knew would stay together forever, if Emily was somewhere you weren't far behind. Even at the age of seventeen you knew you wanted her to be your wife. Emily was so unapologetically herself and that's what helped you come out to the world. Those times were some of the best, even when you were sneaking around to see one another. You even went to prom with her, you in this stunning maroon, floor length dress and her in this form fitting suit. That night she'd turned up at your house with a bunch of red roses for you. That night was certainly magical.

When you both finished school, Emily went through the FBI academy, you stood by her every step of the way while you went down a teaching route. You knew that work and home life would need to be kept separate as much as possible, if Emily had to go undercover then they couldn't recognise her as your partner. The day Emily got accepted into the BAU, she took you out to dinner and got down on one knee. You knew then this was your forever. Being her wife was a dream and you couldn't believe it was finally going to come true.

After your wedding things calmed down, you got to know the rest of the team, often coming in to see Garcia when the team were working a case, in your holidays you opted to work in Garcias office, the company was nice and if you got to hear your wife's voice then that was a bonus. Emily loved knowing you weren't alone while she was away so she would often come straight to Garcias office after arriving back to steal a quick hug and kiss from you.

Children were something you always knew you wanted, Emily too. And with her job it made offending IVF easy. The decision on who would carry your child was easy, Emily loved being in the field and being pregnant would make that rather difficult for her, you didn't mind carrying your child but you had one request. "Emi I want a mini you, those dimples, those eyes and that hair. Your kind heart and smart mouth" you murmured one night. So it was decided you'd use Emily's egg but you'd carry the baby. And that's how you were given your beautiful daughter Delilah Faye.

You'll never forget the day you went into labour, a slow day for the BAU, paperwork really and you were with Garcia getting a drink in the little kitchen. You'd ignored the niggly pains you'd been having putting them down to Braxton and hicks, but when your water broke, the squeal of Garcia alerted your wife and the rest of the team to what it really was. Your wife instantly hoping into protection mode, she and Garcia helped you to the car before she took you the hospital, thankfully all the bags had taken residence in her boot weeks ago.

Delilah's infant days were certainly an adjustment, Emily had two weeks off to help you but that flew by. You adored having your daughter to care for, a little piece of Emily while she was away. Realistically, she was a very easy baby, but completely a mamas girl. In her toddler years she showed just how much of her mothers fiery temper she had, if Emily had a case and Delilah wanted her mama you knew about it. It often upset you thinking she didn't love you the same way. Every time you felt such a way your wife was quick to remind you Delilah loves her momma just as much, it's just because Emily has to travel so often that she clings to her so much.

As Delilah aged, you began to see just what Emily was saying, Delilah was five the first time you had to leave for a teachers conference, you hadn't expected her to cry and cling on to you as you kissed them bye. She even had Emily FaceTime you before bedtime. She snuggled into your wife as you talked her about her day and how much you love and missed her. Only then did she fall asleep snuggled on your wife's chest. The sight truly making your heart ache, the two raven haired beauties so far away from you, you began to wonder if this is how Emily felt when she was away with work.

You and Emily were both present on the day she started high school, her teenage mindset not wanting to be embarrassed as you both dropped her off, "mommmm!" She whined seeing you crying slightly, "mama she's crying again." Your wife chuckled and they both said their goodbyes before driving away far enough to not be seen. She parked up and pulled you into her arms. "Angel, she'll be okay" she reassured as you sniffled into her shoulder, "she's all grown up em" you mumbled truly craving those baby days back, where she was so small and needed you both. "Come on angel let's get you to your work children."

The day Delilah left for college you both cried and laughed at how the moving process went. Your wife quick to remind you the perks of an empty house and your daughter quick to remind you she was more than ready for this step. Clearly you were the emotional one that day, you reminded her she can always come home and you and Emily were only a phone call away. That memory triggering the one where she was a scared twelve year old who just got her first period. She came in to your bedroom on a rare weekend that Emily was home thinking she was dying. She just needed the comfort and guidance of her mothers and you both gave her that, she would always have that ready and waiting should she need it.

Before her final year in college she brought home her first boyfriend. This time it was Emily who needed to be reminded that Delilah was smart and wouldn't choose anyone unworthy. She knew her self worth you'd both made sure of that. Emily couldn't help but profile the guy though, and she made sure to keep a protective eye on Delilah. Even going as far to warn him on all the things she could make happen if he ever hurt her in any way shape of form.

The same boyfriend was about to marry your daughter, he became just as much a child to you as your work children. He made your little girl happy and that was all that matters. After all they shared a love similar to you and Emily and that was truly the highlight of your life. Your daughter truly was a mini Emily, even opting for a similar style of clothing as your wife. It was clear she admired her, but she would adopt traits that were undeniably you. And that's what you'd always dreamed of, a mini Emily mixed with the better parts of you. Your perfect flower, only now she'd bloomed and now was going to be someone else's. That's okay though because she will always be yours and Emily's daughter, the miracle of your lives.

Word count~ 1314

#anon answered #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #anon requested

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creation-key · 1 year

Text

Drunken Calls

Part 2

Synopsis: accidentally confessing while laughing

Warnings: drinking mentioned, barely any cussing, mostly pure fluff/ maybe angst?

a/n: I don’t have any original ideas, that i want share 😏, so i have stolen this prompt from @mangocherri , thank you love for the inspo! And if I completely butchered it and you want me to take this down, I so will, don’t even worry about it. enjoy, we’ll at least try to 🥸

It’s Saturday night? morning? you don’t even know at this point anymore. Your best friend Sierra took you out that night to celebrate your doctorate’s degree in Psychology.

You’re not much of a party girl on your own, but when with the right people, you never want to sleep. And that is exactly what you’re experiencing in the present, only now, you’re sipping on some fruit drink, the taste of alcohol no longer prevalent because of how much you’ve consumed that night already.

You’ve all gathered at your house for the after party, you called it, which was really your smart sober part of your brain, long gone now, trying to keep everyone from driving home. With the night still young , it’s 2 am, you’re talking up a storm, just really spilling the beans on every secret you’ve ever had, including your crush on your sister’s boyfriend.

Everyone having already sobered up and drinking water gasp, granted it’s only 4 people, including yourself, but the gasp sounded otherworldly to your intoxicated brain.

Not fully understanding what you had just admitted to, you yawn saying you’re gonna “hit the hay,” you wink, for literally no reason at all, and stumble your way to your bedroom, tripping over air at least 27 million times.

You reach your room and plop down on your bed face down, completely ready to just fall asleep like that until your phone, which you had forgotten about, starts to ring loudly. You groan, begrudgingly getting up to answer it.

“hEllor?” You slur out, reaching for a bottle of water half drunken on your night stand, in hopes of quenching your thirst.

“Hey, y/n, wait are you drunk?” The unknown person says.

“No, this is Patrick,” You laugh, dying at your joke, slapping your knee for extra effect. You set the phone face up on your bed, pressing the speaker button.

“Well I guess that answers that, there’s no way sober you would such an awful joke.” The person on the other line giggles.

“Heyy, watch it mister whoever you are. I can and will kick your ass. You know I know karate?”

“Oh really?” Mystery man asks.

“Yep, my best friend Harry taught me once. Do you know Harry?”

“Yeah, I’d say I know him pretty well, he’s kind of a goof isn’t he?” The man questions.

You laugh out loud at that, responding in between laughter.

“Yeah he’s a goof, but that’s why i love him. He’s unapologetically himself no matter the situation. You know sometimes I think I relate to the Schuyler sisters more than I’d like to.” The man on the other line takes in a sharp breath, before moving around asking shakily,

“why is that?”

“Because sometimes I wish I had been satisfied and never introduced him to my little sister, oh well, at least i still have him in life. Maybe I’ll meet a rich man like Angelica and move across the sea only seeing them on major holidays and vacations! Yeahhh, that’d be ideal.” You sigh at the end, it quickly turning into a yawn, after hearing no noise coming for the other end you assume the man has gone to sleep, so you bid your goodbyes, hanging up the phone and going to sleep.

——————————————————————————

The Next Morning~

You wake up in the morning with a sticky taped your head- it reads

“Hey girl, we all left as soon as Harry arrived, don’t worry we called ubers just in case. Had fun last night, also about that little secret, it’s safe with us little miss doctor, Love you and can’t wait to do this again!”

You laugh, throwing the sticky note on your bedside table, sitting up straight only to be hit with a ton of bricks to your mental. Memories from the night before come flooding back as well as the mention of Harry being in your house, recalled from the sticky note. Getting up, warily, you make your way to the shower and get ready for the day, you put on pajamas.

Hoping that you’d taken long enough in the bathroom for Harry to have left, you make your way downstairs, only to be met with a nervous smiling Harry eating pancakes and fruit at your table.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked with a worried look.

You look back at him embarrassed, but answer

“oh, i’m okay, just a little tired, and my head’s hurting, but i already took some medicine.”

“Do you, um- do you remember anything from last night?” He looks down at his plate.

You know with your own plate sitting across from him at the table.

“Uh yeah, all of it actually, in fact, this is so funny really, just as I was about to go to sleep some guy, i think, called me, but i never read his contact name so i had no clue who it was, plus the alcohol kind of distorted their voice so i couldn’t tell, anyways, I had a whole conversation with him.” You laugh as you recall the memory, giggling a little at end at yourself for being so silly as a drunk.

“What did you guys talk about?” Harry asked, his eyes now glued to the sink faucet.

“Oh nothing much, talked about karate and just spilled my deepest darkest secrets to him. Are you okay?” You look at him worried.

“Um, yeah. Why do you ask?” Him still not looking at you.

“Because you haven’t made eye contact with me since I walked in, and even then, it was only for a moment. What’s going on?” He looks up you and then back down at the floor, as if pondering what to say next.

“I love you too. I always have, honestly if I’m being completely transparent, I think that’s why I started dating your sister, I mean you guys are just so similar but so different in your own ways, but I just couldn’t learn to love the differences in her. And I know that sounds bad, but I cant ignore what i’ve been yearning to hear from you from the moment we met and not tell you how i’m feeling.” He takes a breath at the end.

You stare at him, trying to comprehend his words, trying to understand where he could have gotten this from, and the only thing that comes to mind is-

“It was you… you were on the phone last night. Weren’t you?” He nods. You stand up, almost knocking your chair over before backing up into a corner.

“y/n we can go somewhere, just us, a date. It doesn’t have to be weird love promise. I already talked to your sister, she under-“

You interrupt him-

“Harry i can’t do that to my sister. If you love me like you say you do, you know that i can’t and will not. I was fine with being in love with you in secret. And you told her? Why would you do that, you were both so happy. Always smiling. I can’t, please. Leave.” He starts shaking his head getting up to approach you.

“Harry leave before I lose it. I can’t do this right now, or ever. Please.” He opens and closes his mouth, defeated he leaves.

You fall to the ground, cupping your face to hold back your sobs from being heard from outside your door, where you sure Harry is waiting for you to let him back in. But you can’t-

you won’t.

~fin~

thoughts on a part 2, i enjoyed writing the angst hehe

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themculibrary · 5 months

Text

General Rated Fics Masterlist 2

part one

5 Times Peter Fell, and Tony caught him. And the 1 Time Tony didn’t (ao3) - eva7673 G, 35k

Summary: Peter has a nasty habit of falling. And Tony, bless him, will catch him every single time. Until the day he can’t.

7 Times Peter Starts To Realize He Has A Family + 1 Time He Knows He Does (ao3) - JAWorley pepper/tony G, 46k

Summary: Peter knows he had been lucky to get to hang around with Mr. Stark before the blip… lucky to have a mentor to look after him, to patch him up after a rough night out as Spider Man, and to get him out of trouble at the foster home if he stayed out too late. After the blip, Peter is starting to realize just how lucky he is… because it’s no longer just Mr. Stark. Now he has a daughter, and a wife, and he could choose to just forget about Peter… leave him to his own devices, but the Starks seem intent on including Peter in activities like fall photos, trips to the pumpkin patch, and movie nights at their cabin. Whenever Peter leaves, he misses them. He misses home. A fic for Cozytober2023. OR A love letter to fall, to the fandom, and to families. Unapologetic fluff and family feels.

A Different Body (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor steve/bucky G, 1k

Summary: When you turn sixteen, you swap bodies with your soulmate. Steve and Bucky discover they’re soulmates.

Anti-Virus (ao3) - marinarusalka steve/tony G, 4k

Summary: Steve didn’t think he could get sick any more. He was wrong. Tony didn’t think of himself as the caretaking type. He was wrong too.

Carry on Wayward Son (ao3) - TinyButFierce G, 9k

Summary: Five times the Avengers didn’t meet Tony’s kid and the one time they did.

Cold (ao3) - vulcanscully steve/tony G, 3k

Summary: Steve Rogers never liked the winter.

Dogs of SHIELD (ao3) - TheGirlInTheB clint/phil G, 8k

Summary: Lucky’s a good dog. Lucky’s a smart dog. Lucky’s human? Not so smart. Like today he didn’t come home. And when he finally did, he was changed into a corgi! Lucky’s gonna do his very best to help get his human back on two legs >:3

Frostbite (ao3) - Lailuhhh G, 10k

Summary: The team go on a mission that takes them to the snowy mountains. No one pieced it together that it was probably a bad idea to take Peter with them when he was especially susceptible to cold weather.

Holiday Meetings (ao3) - Drappersky steve/bucky, bruce/natasha, clint/laura G, 3k

Summary: Steve and Bucky go to a "magical" Christmas tree farm up state. Steve gets lost in the snow, Bucky freaks out and they find everyone but who they're looking for. Happy Holiday's :)

Kissin’ Dynamite (ao3) - crime_fighting_spiderling G, 27k

Summary: “Maybe I shouldn’t go.” Peter spoke. MJ shoved a permission slip into his hand at his comment.

“You’re going.” She simply stated.

Where Peter and his class go on a field trip to Stark Tower.

Knit and Purl (ao3) - Six2VII sam/bucky G, 5k

Summary: Bucky has recently retired and joined a knitting circle.

lighthouse (guiding you home) (ao3) - kalina16 gamora/peter G, 13k

Summary: “Because they’re our song lyrics. Seriously, who else in space do you know that’s gonna be blasting the Pina Colada song all over galactic interspace? It’s like, the best homing beacon ever.”

In the wake of everything that happened with Thanos, Peter’s down a team member, down five years, and down his heart. But he’ll be fine, really. He’s just gonna keep playing music for someone’s who’s not there to hear it, and eventually things will make sense again.

Or, Peter and Gamora have always been better at finding each other than themselves.

Missing Clothes and Stolen Kisses (ao3) - purplemystic sam/scott G, 3k

Summary: After everything they went through, Scott Lang and Sam Wilson began to grow closer. Their friendship turned into best friendship, no matter how hard Sam tries to deny it and claims Scott is annoying.

Months have passed, and Sam has begun to notice his clothes are beginning to disappear and whenever he and Scott hang out and get drinks, they always end up sharing kisses.

Rebuilding (ao3) - vassalady maria/pepper/natasha G, 3k

Summary: Maria, Pepper, and Natasha eventually find their way to one another.

Survival Mode (ao3) - Good_As_I_Am94 steve/tony G, 25k

Summary: Peter shivered pulling the blanket tighter to him. It was 32 degrees outside and sleeping in an old beat up car in a Walmart parking lot didn’t allow for much warmth. He would have turned it on for some heat for a few minutes but it was broken. He had no money to fix it. Peter felt his stomach growl and took a sip from the water bottle in the cup holder.

He knew that the way he was living wasn’t good, but he also had no idea how to do better. He would have to drop out of school and if he dropped out of school then Mr. Stark would get wind of it. He knew that Mr. Stark would try to help but Peter felt his jaw clench—No, he could figure this out on his own. He wasn’t going to let him know how bad things were. He couldn’t chance him telling anyone that he was alone. He wasn’t about to get thrown into the system, but as long as no one knew what was going on. He’d be fine.

that’s why i love fall (ao3) - Skyler10 carol/daisy, phil/melinda, leo/jemma G, 7k

Summary: Carol is a park ranger in a growing mountain town. Daisy is a cybersecurity city girl in town for a job interview at the town’s biotech lab. Under the autumn leaves, fate brings them together (aided by Daisy’s parents, Phil and Melinda). As sweet as a PSL and with as much plot as apple pie.

The Wrong Wedding (ao3) - Xliviaxrtega steve/natasha G, 10k

Summary: Steve is getting married. Nat had left two years before, after one drunken “mistake”. Will a wedding invitation bring them together? Or farther apart?

To the end of the line (ao3) - Holdengrey0 steve/bucky G, 85k

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, a jet carrying Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes crashes in the Canadian wilderness. With winter starting and the temperatures plummeting, will the team find them in time?

New feelings emerge between the men, a whole world looking, an injury, and all sorts of challenges they have to face. How will it end?

Unwound (ao3) - panofcheese bucky/tony G, 6k

Summary; 5+1+several other times Bucky knitted something for someone that usually isn’t Tony but sometimes is, and one time Tony was Sick Of It.

(because I couldn’t stick to my fic outline, sue me)

—

Alternatively,

Somebody in the tower is knitting things, everybody in the tower is having a laugh at Tony’s expense, and Tony Stark has Had Enough.

You Mean A Lot To Me (ao3) - falconisms (ichidice) sam/scott G, 5k

Summary: Scott is the newest hero at Avengers Academy. However Scott has admired the Avengers for a while, his favorites being Captain America and Falcon. So when Sam greets him dressed as Captain America, Scott is certainly starstruck.

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #masterlists #general #general masterlist

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retrodreamgirl · 2 years

Text

can't fight this peeling | robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: holiday superstition and a little green eyed monster [1.2k]

warnings: sexual themes, fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort-ish

⤜♡→

“Why are we doing this again?” Robin tips the knife in her hand, wielding it like a sword poking at the skin of her apple. “Usually these things are reserved for kids or carnivals.”

“Or for your girlfriend who you love.” You’re completely entranced with your own apple, the knife shoved beneath the skin. Your concentration is adorable to Robin who hasn’t figured out exactly how to begin peeling hers without breaking it immediately. “What are you doing?”

“What?”

“You’re not even peeling, you're just staring at me!”

“You’re so pretty, if you were in my position you wouldn’t be so judgemental.” She traces the sleeve of your cardigan down to the wrist, teasing the skin with the blunt edge of her freshly painted nails. They’re themed for fall, the dark and skeletal variety rather than the warm gold and orange of freshly fallen leaves.

“Come on, I wanna see something.”

“Fine fine, but when you’ve seen whatever needs to be seen I’m holding you hostage for the rest of the day.”

The idea came to you dangling off your bed last night with the phone cord wrapped around your finger. Robin was prattling on about some girl who was hitting on her at Family Video. It was with a heavy heart that you listened, seemingly unbothered by the whole affair while the growth of a green monster wriggled to the center of your chest and manifested itself as sadness.

You know she loves you and the feeling is reciprocated, but you’re also not blind to the way she can make anyone love her with a few minutes of incoherent rambling and a well timed quip. It’s not lost on you that Steve Harrington asked her out once before you started dating. You like him, but you definitely prefer sitting between the two of them during movie night anyways.

“That’s fine, I much prefer it when you unapologetically take all my time.” You coo, watching her clumsily peel her apple until there’s a lengthy spiral of red resting over the flat of her blade. You nearly knick the edge of your finger watching her work, when she spots you at the edge of her vision she smiles but doesn’t say anything, far too pleased at the turn of events.

“Okay, now what?”

“We see whose is longer!” You place yours down delicately, Robin following suit then immediately throws her arms into the air. Surprisingly enough, her’s dangles just over the edge of the table like a blood red streamer while yours falls a few inches short.

“Ha! Guess I’m better than you.” Robin teases, smushing her lips to the supple flesh of your cheek. She can scent the lingering spritz of her favorite perfume, one she always makes sure you’ve stocked up on, and the bite of apple you’d shoved through your lips. “Why did we do this?”

“To see which of us will live longer. Honestly I’m glad you won, I don’t think I could handle it if you left me alone, so congratulations! Okay now—”

“Wait wait wait, what makes you think I wanna live without you?”

“It’s not about wants, Rob, the peels have spoken.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Hey, you can always call your girlfriend from work if you get lonely.” You shift too quickly, clearing your throat as Robin catches on. It was an accidental slip and you sink a little when she smiles at you beneath her thick lashes. It’s not fair how pretty she looks when she’s holding you accountable.

“Is that what all this is about?”

“All of what?”

“Come on, babe, I didn’t tell you about her to make you jealous or something. I told you because I thought it was funny!”

“It was funny. That doesn’t mean it didn’t make me…” You don’t dare say the words and admit your flaw of character. Now that you’re sitting here stewing in it with Robin still looking at you like you’re the only girl she’s ever seen it’s all the more trivial to be concerned about someone so irrelevant.

“Jealous?”

“Something like that.” You avert your gaze, picking at the invisible lint on your sleeve.

Now you’re embarrassed.

Well you were always embarrassed but now you’re embarrassed in front of Robin and it’s everything in you not to give her full permission to dump you right now.

You’re stricken with panic when she paws the length between you and tosses her leg over your lap, straddling your hips before the prying eyes of two steadily rotting cores and the frames lining the mantle.

You never knew her to be so prevailing until you were deeper in, the incoherence of her off the nod tangents practiced to perfection when you were the one rambling incoherent and her head was between your thighs.

“You know, I knew I wasn’t giving you enough attention. I told Steve and he went on one of his stupid little spiels about his relationship with Nancy, but we’re clearly nothing like that.” She dots a kiss to the protrusion in your neck, the thick artery jumping in time with her warm breaths fan against your skin. “You need me to show you how insane it is to think you have anything to be jealous of? Because, baby, I could show you that in over a hundred different ways and we can’t do all of them fully clothed.”

“Robin…” You sigh, the feeling of her lips tracing your neck to catch the flesh of your earlobe between her teeth. You consider dragging your hands the lengths of her side, can feel her flesh in imagination, but you're set on following your task through. “Can we finish with the apples first please?”

“Is this real life?” She chuckles, but leans back enough to see you’re completely serious with your hands tucked. “Okay, what is it?”

“We have to toss the peels over our shoulders.”

“For what?”

“Just do it!” This time you indulge yourself, squeezing her flesh where her shirt is raised just above her waist. “Get off so I can do mine.”

Robin’s exasperation is feigned, the sweet truth of it is she would do anything for you. Your shared affection beneath the clothes is just an added bonus. So she takes her shriveled up peel and stations herself so there is enough floor behind her to catch it.

“I’m so gonna win this one.” She purrs, tossing the peel over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. “I don’t know if you were aware, but band is great for the hands.”

“Oh I’m incredibly aware.” You’ve felt those hands in ways non sentient brass could never appreciate and you wouldn’t forget it so easily. You toss your own peel, glancing to find it landed a few feet from hers. “But that’s not really the point. We have to see what initials our peels make out.”

“Makeout? Now you’re talkin.”

“You have been spending way too much time with Steve.” You scoff crawling the length of the room to lean over your peels. Robin rests on her stomach beside you, tilting her head against her folded arms.

“That’s totally an ‘R’.” She points to the formation of your peel, rather impressed with herself for noticing. “It definitely means we’re soulmates, right?”

You lay beside her, resting in the crook of her shoulder, reveling in the soft vibration of her voice. There’s a tingle in the pit of your stomach, it crawls the length of your chest and settles as a warmth upon your cheeks. You glance at her peel, the involuntary muscle of your lip cresting toward the ceiling.

“It definitely means we’re soulmates.

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley #robin buckley fic #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic

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hddnone · 5 months

Note

For the asks! 24 and 25? 👀

From end of year asks

24. favorite fic you read this year

This is waaaay too hard of a question! I can mention Embers by Vathara (ALTA) because I think I reread it twice this year as it's one of my all-time favorites. Once I get started I just can't stop and it doesn't matter that it's 700K+, I'm obsessed I'm going to cheat and also say A Very Seblaine Christmas by Imogen_LeFay (Glee) which is a series and not just one fic, but it's gorgeous holiday fluff that was all SO comforting to read and full of creativity. AND going to say These Violent Delights by RedHead (Flash) because it is gorgeous and dark and unapologetic and I'm predicting it's going to stick in my brain for approximately forever.

25. a fic you read this year that you'd recommend everyone read

I recognize that this is a cop-out answer but I've been sitting here and nothing comes to mind because 'everyone' is too general. A lot of what I read appeals to a specific niche of people and so recommending to, say, the public at large makes my brain freeze. But I suppose I can say the fics above?? lol

Thanks for the ask!! <3

#end of year ask meme

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our-flag-means-death-ao3feed · 1 year

Text

Gift Wrapped

by tardigrape

Izzy lets his neighbor Lucius talk him into going Christmas shopping together.

Unapologetically fluffy Christmas nonsense ensues.

Words: 6699, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Israel Hands, Lucius Spriggs, Black Pete (Our Flag Means Death), Blackbeard | Edward Teach, "Calico" Jack Rackham, Fang (Our Flag Means Death)

Relationships: Israel Hands/Lucius Spriggs

Additional Tags: Minor Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Minor Black Pete/Lucius Spriggs, Minor Fang/Lucius Spriggs, Minor Israel Hands/"Calico" Jack Rackham, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Shopping, Israel Hands is bad at gifts, Lucius Spriggs is great at gifts, you see where this is going, this is basically just fluff, holiday themed fluff, you could flock your tree with it honestly, No beta we die like the badmintons

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/43414795

#Our flag means death #ofmd

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Man-Sized

7/9 Shadowplay

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

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

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

Christmas came and went, and all she knew was that Simon wasn't working. She still didn't know where he lived – whether he had a home in Manchester or if he resided elsewhere. He could live in London for all she knew. He could live down the street, and she wouldn't have a clue about it.

She sent him pictures of her family and the Christmas tree, of the cute pajamas her parents had got her – they still got her cozy sleepwear as a gift, like she was a child. She sent her a photo of herself later with that thing on. Or most of it on, anyway. She even added a few hearts to her texts, knowing he wouldn't return them. Simon was born at a time before emojis were even invented.

She didn't know if he spent the holidays with his family. It was odd to even imagine Simon in a happy, domestic setting, sipping grog or decorating a tree. His father was dead, and he rarely talked about his brother or mother. All the details he had given her of his life were from a pre-military time.

True to his habits, he only sent a short reply on Boxing Day that said: "See you soon."

And she waited. She went back home the next day and sat in her lonely apartment watching historical dramas and eating chocolate until she felt sick, and he never came. She stayed there the day after, didn't leave the house even for the store. On the third day, she started to get anxious, on the fourth, rather angry. No one turned that extra key on the lock of her front door, and she felt like an idiot.

On New Year's Eve, she decided she would get the fuck out. She would not stay at home like a whimpering, lovesick puppy, waiting for its master to come home.

The long-distance relationship was getting on her nerves, and his occasional unavailability didn't feel exciting anymore. It was just vexing. Sometimes it felt like a paranoid exaggeration that he couldn't tell her when they would meet again. She didn't need much: just a fixed date would have sufficed. Her other life was stupidly on hold because she was always on high alert for him. This had been going on for months, and it was high time she did something else. Just for the shits and giggles. To hell with his soon.

So she went to see her friends and drank herself into an impressive stupor.

It wasn't her usual approach to dealing with anxiety and frustration and a yearning heart, and it didn't work as well as she had hoped. But at least she got out of that stupid flat and saw some people who actually had time for her. She had been invited to a party before the holidays with the knowledge that she would not attend – just like she never attended any student shenanigans and was rather curious as to why people kept inviting her.

But right now, an evening full of alcohol and uni people who had normal problems, problems she should've been thinking about too instead of her supersoldier, sounded better than binge-watching Outlander for the fifth day in a row.

And it was actually loads of fun. She decided right then and there, while having her fifth or sixth drink, that she should leave the house more often. Connect a little, get acquainted with new people who did normal shit. Even if they were a bit boring compared to a certain brooding giant who made love to her like she was a goddess.

She laughed so much that night that her stomach hurt, and a few boys from school were really after her at the party, quenching her need for validation and attention just a tiny bit. The whole crew went to see the fireworks to the city, and they all shared some bubbly in the frigid night, and even if she wanted Simon to somehow teleport himself behind her at the turn of the year, to grab her from behind and raise her in the air and whisper something naughty in her ear, the longing wasn't enough to rob all the fun from that night.

When she walked home, feeling a bit wobbly and more than a bit guilty for having flirted with not one but two guys, she reached for the pocket that held the push dagger Simon had given her. It received loving attention every time she walked to school or to the club, the excitement of doing something forbidden soon having turned to a feeling of security and a promise of prowess, all granted by Simon. It was almost like a comfort object, the way it instantly carried her thoughts to him.

Home felt dark and shabby and even more lonely after having a few good laughs with cheerful people her age, who studied the same subject and had big plans for the future. Her plans for the near future were another day alone, but this time, with a hideous hangover. That future felt so dreary that she didn't quite catch the familiar dark shoes in the hallway as she barged in and fought herself out of her heels all but suavely.

She went straight to the bathroom for a late-night shower, and the men's shower gel bottle – the one Simon had brought to her apartment because he didn't want to smell of "girl shampoo" – stared at her like a reminder of what she couldn't have. She then brushed her teeth and went to get a glass of water before crashing into bed.

Even in the dark, she could see a man sitting on her couch as she stepped into the living room that extended to an open kitchen.

She didn't panic this time. Her reaction was a simple, annoyed sigh upon seeing that he was yet again trying to gauge a reaction out of her.

"You really need to stop doing that."

She could see him tilt his head a little at her bitter tone. They had never fought, but right now, feeling emboldened by the booze, she had a feeling that an explosion was about to happen. Returning to a dark home filled with a dark man was such a contrast to the spirited, youthful gang she had spent her evening with that all the laughter left her for a moment.

How long had he even been here? It was nearly 3 AM. She had gone to the party as early as she deemed acceptable, wanting to get some fresh air and fresh vibes as soon as possible. If Simon had come to surprise her in the evening, he had had a long night.

"Where were you?"

The raspy voice was demanding, and she fought back a jolt of irritation just from hearing that dominant tone. It was just a simple question, but it felt like an interrogation.

And she wanted to scream.

Where were you?

How many times have I waited for you to bless me with your presence?

She had been away just this once, and he hadn't called, hadn't sent a text, had chosen to wait here for her to return from her all nighter, and then accused her of not being home.

"At a friend," she said.

"Which one?"

"Marc."

She heard him draw air upon hearing that she had been to some other guy's apartment.

"A new friend," he noted.

"He had a party," she explained, then tested her luck like an idiot. "It was fun. I made lots of new friends."

She turned to get that glass of water and noticed Simon had done her dishes while she was away. There were flowers in a vase on the counter, too. He had wanted to surprise her on New Year's Eve, probably hoped to spend another peaceful evening at home together.

A tiny needle pushed into her heart at the sight of the pink tulips. Simon didn't know it, but they were her favourite flowers. She wondered whether he had been to the club to see if she was there, only to come back when he noticed she wasn't up tonight. If he had sat on that couch as hours passed by, with dread sinking in from the thought that she might be out somewhere, cheating him with another guy. The needle inside her heart burst into flames.

"Where were you?" She whispered. He finally rose and walked to her, much in the same way he had done when she had been upset in this exact same spot when morning light had filled the room.

"Covering my tracks."

She already knew that "covering tracks" meant he took extra precautions before coming to see her, whether there was a real, heightened risk or not. Christmas time might be a heightened risk: those who wanted him harm would probably want to know where he spent his holidays. Who his loved ones were.

It meant that he was devoted to her, an actual sign of care and deep affection. Simon had just made sure he wouldn't set her in danger.

She could feel his warmth behind her, could smell him, and felt distress spike in her chest when he wouldn't proceed to touch her but just stood there. She turned to face him with a quivering lip and wasn't sure whether she was about to burst into tears or a manic giggle.

He was wearing a black hoodie this time, but it didn't quite manage to make him look any more youthful or boyish. But it was snug, almost cute. The size of it probably double or triple XL to accommodate those shoulders and that chest. That hoodie told her he had definitely planned to stay home, cuddling and making love while the tulips slowly opened their blossoms in that vase.

She knew he came here for her softness. He would never admit it, but he craved the softness of her bed, her couch, her body, even the food she made for him with love. He had just wanted to spend the evening filled with some color, laughter, and affection, certainly not go and watch exploding fireworks that would only remind him of war and death and darkness.

Suddenly she felt guilty about getting so worked up. She felt shame for her condition: she was still drunk, like a sailor, wearing nothing but flushed cheeks and a towel.

"Are you angry?" She searched for judgment in his eyes. He watched her sternly, didn't betray any emotion other than that of guardedness.

"Why would I be angry?" He said in a Should I be? kind of way.

"Because I'm drunk?"

She must smell of booze, of a whole pubful of drunkards. Not ladylike at all. He had heard the state in which she had barged in — she had even sung a dirty song in the shower.

She felt like a child compared to him, felt like every guy she had talked to at that party tonight was like a child compared to him. The shyness never quite left her, even if they had known each other for months now.

What if he was angry? Or disappointed?

Or worse yet, disgusted?

"You said you didn't like women who drink."

She certainly wasn't a drinker, even if this night had been a bit rowdy. But trying to explain to a man who disapproved of drinking that she wasn't an alcoholic while smelling of booze was somehow too funny in her sleepy, partied, lovelorn state.

She couldn't hold it in any longer, and a stupid little chortle pushed through her lips. This time, he raised a hand and took hold of her shoulder, as if to ensure she was okay.

"I never said that," he said gently. The brown of his eyes was blown dark, and she vaguely remembered that dilated pupils meant drugs or darkness or love.

"One of the guys wanted to walk me home," she blurted out of nowhere. The alcohol in her system had apparently decided it was quite alright to tease him a bit for taking so long. His head pulled back, a subtle indication that he didn't like what he was hearing.

"Or actually, two. It was funny when they both came to give me my coat when I was leaving."

He was silent, the feeling of being reduced to a flustered child – or a drunken moron – in his presence only increasing by the minute. Either he was genuinely astounded by her behaviour, or then she was really pushing her luck with her drunken babble.

And fuck, she would never get over his eyes. Perfectly almond-shaped and so big that supermodels would kill for them. But it wasn't the warm, dark chocolate or the eternal exhaustion of hooded lids that made them so enticing. It was the look of having walked through hellfire… and having emerged undefeated, with scars and a sardonic, knowing smile. He was like Lucifer cast out from heaven, a fallen dark angel who had been thrown to Hell, who merely shrugged at his fate and then started to rule the whole goddamn place.

She opened the towel and let it drop to the floor, then took a step and wrapped her arms around his neck. He went rigid as she pressed her body flush against him, the amber eyes roaming her face while the rest of him was stiff. It was a new situation, her meeting his solemn stare with bold teasing while making it clear that she wanted him to rut her — on that counter if need be. Or better yet, she wanted to climb onto his lap and ride him, run her nails down his chest and sink them in, perhaps to the point of drawing blood.

It was usually he who ravished her…

"I've been a bad girl," she tried to imitate a seductive voice but it turned into another giggle.

Good God… She wished someone would come and put some duct tape on her mouth.

But then a hand was placed possessively on her hip, a thumb brushed over the side of her stomach. Those eyes were now looking at her much in the same way they always did when she was dancing for him. Hungry and dark. Proud… Pleased.

He had looked at her like that for months and months now. Like he owned her. In a stupefied recognition, she realized he had looked at her that way before they had even shared a word with each other.

He moved in a sharp flash, scooped her in his arms and started to walk toward the bedroom.

"Are you gonna punish me?" She whispered without even bothering to cover the heavy anticipation in her voice. He wouldn't say anything, but when they reached her bed, she was thrown on it. Gently and with care – but it was still more of a flung than setting down.

"It's not really a punishment if I enjoy it, right?" She laughed with excitement, all the remnants of her anger dissolving into a soft buzz that gave a nice edge to the upcoming retribution. "I guess the joke's on you."

He still wouldn't budge, still wouldn't speak…

"Are you sure you're not angry?"

She rose to lean on her elbows and watched him undress with a soldierly sharpness. Under the black hoodie was a black t-shirt — of course. But only now did she notice that he was wearing grey sweatpants. Fucking sweatpants.

Why did he have to be such a kissable, huggable cuddle muffin on this night of all nights? Those sweats were so far from the glitter and glamour she had surrounded herself this evening that she felt another burning sting beneath her sternum. The ample bulge against that soft, grey cotton was visible even in the darkness.

The muscles bunched as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the floor. She would probably never tire of seeing those shoulders, not to talk of his divine forearms that were so different from the skinny little things she usually saw at school or even at the club she danced in. Even she had more muscle in her forearms due to pole dancing than some men – but Simon… God, he was an absolute specimen. And with that tattoo slapped on that bulky, veined muscle, she could verily fall on her knees and pray to this man.

Her earlier teasing felt stupid as hell. She wasn't interested in anyone else than him walking her home. That ship had long since sailed.

And how could anyone compare to him? Those boys she had talked to would shit themselves if they saw Simon, even without his gear. Would turn tail and run seeing him in those cozy sweats, even. She wanted to explain herself even if the cleverest thing would be to just shut up.

"Marc's just a friend from school. He was in this group project and then we started to talk about our plans for the New Year, and then I figured I should go to this party because I never go anywhere, you know, and -...mh."

His pants were off, all of them, and she could see his cock spring free, already hard, like he always was when she was lying down like this and he was about to descend upon her. The night swallowed most of him, but it wasn't enough to hide those forearms, that hungry, slightly amused glint in his eyes – or that heavy, obscenely thick erection that was jutting from between his equally massive thighs. It was veined like his forearms, surrounded by the palest, faint hair, similar to the almost invisible ones that coated his chest and back here and there. Everything in him was heavy and thick, except that pale breath of hair…

Her mouth shot full of water, and rich heat pooled between her thighs, which instinctively clamped together as if knowing that this man was too big for her, even if evidence already proved otherwise. He always told her how tight she was, but she felt like it was more the cause of his size than any asset of hers.

"I thought it would be good to connect with people because you never know, right?" Her mouth kept yapping on while her eyes were glued to his massiveness. All of it.

He crawled to the bed between her legs, which opened by themselves for him as if this man was a whole VIP pass that granted access to the exclusive area of her.

"If you wanted to know where I am, you could've just called me. You never tell me where you are or when you come back. You know, "soon" could mean anything."

She expected him to insert himself to her opening, to push in with a full-blown ego because he must already know she was wet from just seeing him, the bastard. But instead, he dove face first to her folds while sweeping her thighs over his shoulders like they weighed nothing.

"But I get it, you need to–"

A pair of hot lips surrounded by a peak stubble hit her skin, and her head fell back with a moan. Her thighs drifted even further apart as his tongue traveled up her slit, parting the swollen lips with so much love that she knew he definitely wasn't angry with her.

Oh no.

She had only managed to amuse him again.

And of course she had. Her intoxicated state and desperate attempts to make him jealous must've told him that she was a bit of a mess because of him. He wasn't petty, even if he was possessive. It was crystal clear to everyone in this room that she had just tried to distract herself, and she was featherbrained if she thought she could fool him.

"I was mad at you," she confessed with a sigh. "I still am…"

She peeked a look down. The sight of a brawny, wide man on his knees between her legs made her more heady than all the punch she had had that night. The bulk of muscle on his back made her legs look sleek and slender and weak, the coarse stubble against her delicate, swollen folds made her head spin even when she was lying on her back. The faint scent of tobacco and his musk were like incense to her; she inhaled it like it was her only way to heaven, that haze of blazing masculinity, of fire and smoke that was thoroughly him enveloping her as she fell back on the mattress.

Her hand found his hair; it was cut shorter from the sides, but the top had generous amounts to grab hold of, and she curled her fingers there while pushing her cunt against him. She was tired of pretending that it didn't feel fucking best when he gave her head.

An exceptionally hungry kiss echoed through her body, making her spine arch and her legs slide up and down his back. How could it feel like he was kissing her instead of fucking her with his mouth? She had taken Simon as a man who didn't worship women like this, but like always, she had been wrong. Even the very thought of a commanding officer of some super special tactical unit having his face buried between her legs was enough to send her to the verge of orgasm. Not to talk of seeing and feeling him actually there.

She sighed as his hands drew her against his face by the thighs, then gasped as a firm, thick tongue – thick like the rest of him – thrust inside her.

"God… yes, just like that…"

If she was pulling his hair a little too hard, he didn't mind. Or at least he didn't say or do anything about it. At first, she had thought that perhaps he tried to make her shut her mouth this way. Speak with moans and sighs instead of words. But now she felt like she was his prisoner, about to make the confession of a lifetime.

"It drives me crazy, the waiting… I'm always waiting for you." It was a miserable sob, and she was arriving at the center, the numb, veiled core of this whole conundrum.

"You drive me crazy, Simon."

He let her monologue go on. If anything, he encouraged it with his tongue, with his lips that nibbed her swollen bud and sucked.

"You're so annoying." She felt him huff a brief chuckle against her, inside her even, as she was open and dripping and hurting, wholly at his mercy. "Like, no one comes even close. And, and, I…"

The darkness made it seem that she could spill any secret in such a lightless, safe cavity where there was suddenly no time, no past and no future to make her pay for what came out of her mouth next.

"...I love you."

But the laws of cause and effect still applied to this world, and Simon stopped, breathing into her pussy like a long-distance runner.

"What?"

His first words since forever hit her folds with a husky, tentative roughness. That voice was better than any dark rum or gooey chocolate cake or even a hot tub bubbling with maple sugar bath bomb. The heated knot in her stomach coiled and twisted, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"...Nothing."

He breathed into her tender folds, she could feel his lips draw into a smile. He kissed her right at the center, at the core of her, and she jerked a little, bit her lip, and waited.

"You sure?" The gruff, murky voice still talked to her pussy, like it was there where the confession of his prisoner was to be found.

"Yes..?"

A devastatingly languid lick stroked her folds, and the starved sigh was that of a happy, happy man. He had a winning hand, and he knew it.

"Are you absolutely positive?"

She swallowed, her lips trembled, and her heart rammed against her chest as her drunkard's brain thought of the terrible fate that awaited her if she yielded to him. What if they were still playing? She hated poker, especially when she was playing against Simon who always had a royal flush in his hand. She wanted to play together, not against each other.

"For fuck's sake, why do you always have to…" she started, then bit her lip again as he plunged his tongue inside, so deep that it made her chin shoot up toward the ceiling and her hips grind against his face.

"You always have to win," she sighed strenuously, on the brink of tears.

"Love you too," he rumbled against her, and her walls clenched around nothing, more moisture leaked to coat his chin.

"Wh-...What?"

He picked up where he had left, proceeding to kiss and lick and suck like it was just some small talk they had briefly shared while he was eating her out.

"Simon…"

"Shh."

She pursed her lips from happiness and allowed him to finish the job, which didn't take long in her state of bliss and drunken overstimulation. She came with a cry, leaked love in the air – leaked literally, on his lips.

He rose to sit after he was done, panting like it had been a while since he had tortured anyone like that.

"What took you so long?" She asked when he threw himself to lie on his back next to her.

"What took you so long?" He huffed, and she wasn't sure if they were talking about their mutual absence or the late confession. She turned to press against him, thrumming with love. He shifted too and took her in his arms, and her head was shoved against the plates of muscle that made his chest. He was still hard, and she wanted to take him in her mouth, to return the favor tenfold.

"You're so annoying," she chirped with a broad smile while crushed against the world's safest chest.

"Copy that."

"I love you."

His cock twitched between them when she said those words. It was his only reaction to her repeating that long-kept secret.

"You're drunk," he commented with sleepy, honeyed amusement.

"I'm drunk, and I love you."

He sighed and pulled her into an even heavier hug. "Come 'ere."

They cuddled sometimes, mostly after sex, but it was never this ardent. She ran a hand up and down his back while the other was squeezed somewhere between them. She could hear his heartbeat, steady and powerful underneath her cheek.

"Don't send me pictures of your family," he grumbled through half-sleep. "It's an unnecessary risk."

He had rigged her phone with schizophrenic detail so that their calls and messages couldn't be traced. He had even built a sort of a Faraday's cage out of a shoebox, wired mesh, aluminum foil and whatnot, where he put his phone when he came to her place. She didn't even know all the things he did to ensure no one knew about their relationship. Safety measures weren't doubled, they were tripled with Simon.

She gathered the photos she sent of herself were a weakness for him since he never forbade her from sending them. She didn't know if they got destroyed right after, though, or what kind of a headache it was for him to get rid of all the metadata.

"Whatever you say," she murmured while pressed flush against him. His erection wouldn't die, and in her opinion it was unfair, downright sinful, to leave him in such a state after he had given her so much love. She raised her leg and swept it up the side of his thigh until it came to rest on his hip so she could rub against him.

"You need to sleep," he said, but didn't stop her. He even allowed her some space to snake a hand between them to grab him and guide the tip to her folds, still soaked from his treatment. The notion that he prioritized her rest over his own pleasure only made her more wet. He responded with a shallow, hoarse exhale as she helped his cock against her slickness, coating it with moisture.

"You love me?" She was a lovesick puppy now, and he grunted at her neediness.

"How many times do I have to say it?"

"You only said it once."

"Once is enough."

She glided along his length with slick, moist sounds filling the darkness pulsating with love.

"No it's not."

"Insatiable woman," he muttered, slightly out of breath from what she was doing to him. And as if he had only now noticed that she was handling him and not the other way around, he switched their roles and rolled partially on top of her.

"Could you just say it?" She watched him with what must've looked like the most desperate, needy stare she had ever worn. He simply seized his cock and adjusted it to her entrance.

"Pretty please?" She whispered while he pushed in, only halfway, knowing she was more than ready to take him fully. She even grabbed his ass to force him, but he refused her.

He always had to win… Always.

"I love it when you beg."

The voice was harsh, rugged, but his eyes were soft, even softer than the double bed under her.

"I love your cunt," he continued, and a moan slipped from her as he teased her with a few shallow, unhurried thrusts. "Love the sounds you make when I fuck you hard."

"Mh-..."

"...or gentle. Fuck you real slow and deep. I know you like that."

He finally went completely in, finally gave her that sweet satisfaction that came from being filled. It felt so snug, so gratifying that it could only be compared to having a piece of your favourite cake after a shitty day or taking the first sip of coffee in the morning or easing into a hot jacuzzi when you were cold.

"I love it when you say you're a bad girl when you're the swee'est girl there is."

That one ended in a short, mocking laughter. As if she was absolutely shitty at trying to deceive him in anything.

He continued to tell her everything except the thing she wanted to hear. He told her he loved her bedhead, her cooking, the look of concentration when she was curled somewhere to read a book. He told her he loved her laugh, her sharp tongue, and how adorable she was when she was mad at him. The list went on and on, it even had the time when she had slapped him, on it. She was just about to plead again, beg for it if she must, when he finally relented.

"Yeah, sweetheart… I love you," he whispered in her neck with a burnt voice, burnt from tobacco or barking commands. "Should be bloody fuckin' obvious by now."

She dug her nails into his back, not worrying about the consequences, which were only delightful. The coarse stubble chafed her neck as he kissed and sucked her skin, surely leaving marks.

She was so wet for him that she was creaming around his shaft. Big as he was, he glided inside her with no effort at all, even when she felt herself tighten around him with another upcoming release. She was going to come a second time, a rarity, even with Simon.

He pressed her against the mattress with every thrust, the feeling of being crushed between the plush, soft bed and a bruisingly hard body absolutely glorious. Feeling weightless and completely open, she came while clinging to him, knowing it would send him on another ego trip for having worked her to a climax twice already.

The sound that left her, more like a helpless wail than a satisfied moan, meant she had lost all her chips in a bet against someone who had invented the whole game. Her cries painted the darkness as she throbbed and clenched around his cock like it was the sweetest thing in the world.

"Now what did I say? Insatiable." His voice turned into a wined and dined tone when he was pleased, almost braggingly so, and she wanted to dig her nails in his back again and make him grunt instead. But that voice also caressed her, much like his hips that gently rocked her through the waves of the orgasm.

He came shortly after, through gritted teeth and a feral edge to his peak. Her neck was burning from all the love it was getting, but the last roll of his hips was almost lazy, and he collapsed on top of her, trapping her under a blazing hot chest. A palm slid along the dip and swell of her waist, caressed the side of her thigh, and pulled her leg to rest on his back while he remained buried deep inside her. He turned from a savage, heated man into an affectionate lover so quickly that she could only hang onto him as best she could.

His back had broken into a sweat, but when he eventually pulled out, he didn't roll to the side like he usually did. Instead, he shifted to lay his head on her chest, and clutched her in a sideways hug, slack against the bed and partly on her. The ragged breathing was interrupted by an uneasy swallow.

"Life was easy before you came along. Didn't have to worry about gettin' killed."

More confessions were spoken in the fading night, and she raised a hand to stroke his hair. The light had slightly changed, the wintry night was easing into a break of dawn while they were finally about to get some sleep.

"Guess I have to stay alive now."

Only Simon could make something like that sound romantic, but his tone was somber, as if he was letting an essential part of himself go when he chose life and her. She wondered if she had brought Simon back to life like he had brought her. It wasn't what they had planned for themselves, but here they were: spent and alive, meshed together at the dawn of a new year.

"You're spooking me to death as it is. I don't want to know how you would be like as an actual ghost." She tried to lighten the mood that was slipping into something darker, something she didn't wish to think about after a night like this. But Simon had chosen to make her cry.

"Would haunt you still."

She couldn't say anything from the bittersweet pain that spread through her heart. It was hard to breathe when a choked sigh clawed at her throat and tears threatened to cause a whole flood.

"Did you like the flowers I got you?"

…And just like that, he changed the subject. She blinked back tears and tightened her hold of him, so snugly settled there over her heart.

"I love tulips. Thank you," she whispered in the crown of his head.

"Hm."

He was already on the verge of slipping into sleep, like men used to after a good fuck, especially when already exhausted from work. Or from loneliness. She hugged him so tight she could feel the flare of his ribs as his breath slowly evened out. She caressed his hair, the back of his neck, stroked his back and felt him rumble softly against her.

"Not your pet..."

His last note was more of a weary sigh that turned into soft snoring as he fell asleep on her chest. She was not far behind, drifting off to sleep too while cradling him — precisely like a pet, or a child, her last thought being how oddly beautiful it was that he finally allowed her to hold him like this.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x oc #mw2 smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x female oc #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #ghost x female oc #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x original character #simon riley smut

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xiaophobic · 2 years

Text

‧₊˚.𖧧. WINTER ACTIVITIES!

including! — diluc, xiao, kaeya, itto, & zhongli <3

genre/warnings! — fluff, elements of christmas, reader is implied to be shorter than itto, different headcanon style (?) just trying it out, diluc favoritism……..

༉‧₊˚. SYNOPSIS! — acting out several winter activities with some genshin characters!

:: DILUC! ♥︎

. . . parties are not usually his forte, though with promise of you attending, diluc had been begrudgingly persuaded. like a fish on a terribly romantic line, he was hooked as soon as he’d seen you. the overly festive decorations embellishing the favonius halls didn’t necessarily bother him, though when he attempts to make his way through a crowd and is suddenly cornered, with you, under none other than a mistletoe? he’s conflicted on which christmas entity he should embody.

you’re about to greet him before seeing him gazing upward like a deer in headlights. green leaves bundle together under the constraint of a velvet red ribbon, festively colored glitter accentuating the holiday staple. the slow harmonies of the jolly music facilitating your moment sounds all the more romantic now that you’re here with him. you breathe in and he breathes out, the soft, happy grin forming on your face granting him a sporadic confidence boost. a warm, rough hand rests upon your cheek with the most atypical care you’ve ever been privy to, and your lips collide in your gentle holiday kiss.

:: XIAO! ♥︎

. . . snowflakes fall ever so gently from the clouded sky, and xiao is nothing short of amazed. he’s seen snow before, of course, but he’s never seen you with it. how excited it makes you, eyes wide and arms reaching upwards. you’re not necessarily aiming to catch anything, just crooning giddily at how the snow lands, melting on your skin upon impact. you are the sun’s greatest enemy, the brightest light he’s ever been deemed.

you smile and he wants to; he wants to revel in your enthusiasm, spin in circles and parade as though it's a miracle when it’s only snow, savor his own laugh and fall in love with the earth. he remembers something he’s seen humans do before, stick their tongues out and stand like adorable fools waiting for snow to fall. should he take his chances on feeling this joy as you do? making sure you aren’t staring, he hesitantly pokes his tongue out, giving him the cutest pout you’ve possibly ever seen. just don’t make it obvious that you are, in fact, staring.

:: KAEYA! ♥︎

. . . “those look…interesting,” you playfully chide at the appearance of his carefully frosted cookies. at least he says carefully, though you can’t exactly tell if he’s truly got no art for decorating baked goods or otherwise. kaeya looks at you challengingly, his eyepatch discarded and second eye fully on display as you’re in the sanctity of your home. he shrugs, going on about how his designs are simply too abstract for your comprehension.

you giggle, turning away with a teasing shake of your head. a slight shuffle sounds from your side, and when you look back in his direction, a messy dollop of peppermint-flavored frosting adorns your unsuspecting nose. your eyes narrow in faux disapproval, and just when he’s about to begin a terrible anecdote about his decorating skills once more, you snatch the piping bag and return the action. a miscalculation was made, and much more frosting than he’d squeezed onto you adorns the tip of his nose. you mutter an unapologetic oops, scooping the sweet treat with your thumb and licking it off. rolling his eyes with nothing but love, he holds back his laughter and does the same.

:: ITTO! ♥︎

. . . flashes of red, blue, and yellow bounce in several controlled patterns along the branches of your christmas tree. multicolored garland as well as various other ornaments hang within its grooves, and you two marvel at your hard work. itto smiles, big and triumphant, just as his entire presence is. you step back, leaning your head onto his chest as he embraces you from behind. you’re about to pack everything up when he remembers one thing you’ve forgotten, the star! you’ve already returned your step stool, and this tree is taller than all your previous ones, leaving you frustrated.

without a second thought, itto hoists you up by your thighs and places you atop his broad shoulders, gifting you a height much taller than everything in your current view. it doesn’t strain him at all, and he urges you with a pat to your thighs and a light jump (which disorients you because you’re so high up, but forgive him, he’s excited) to place the star so you can see how nice it all appears when it’s completed. reaching forward, you slide the star onto the highest branch and press the button which lights it up. he steps backward, and his giddy laugh vibrates throughout his whole body, contagiously catching onto you as well.

:: ZHONGLI! ♥︎

. . . every city street is decked out with holiday lights, and you’ve dragged zhongli out to see them with you in person. he’d dislike the use of the word dragged, however. he’s always a willing subject to whatever your antics may be. it’s a small feat but there’s something so whimsical about blinking lights when they actually have significance — you just can’t help but be awed. as for him, the astonishment blessing your expression is lovely, so he’ll never complain if the lights will continue to frame you like the portrait you are.

in your excitement, you fumble your phone from your jacket’s pocket, quickly aiming it up at the sky and snapping a selection of blurry and beautiful photos of the lights above. you glue yourself to his side, flipping the camera and also taking a candid shot of the two of you, together. the rose red enveloping his nose from the cold makes him grin as he catches his own lost expression in your picture. “take another,” he urges, and you nod with exuberance filling your form even more. centering your shot, you’re about to take it when he presses his cold lips to your cheek, smiling into it as he knows that as well as the lights you’re in love with were both caught in your photo.

thank you soso much for reading !!! ily & stay safe <3

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the-scandalorian · 3 years

Note

Okay so i can't stop thinking about the mistletoe kiss prompt with din...like whatever planet they're on has the same tradition. Ur there at the holiday time and see couples/people kissing all over the place and din aches to see you all lit up as you take in the sparkling lights and cheer and he's never quite been willing to risk it all as he is right now, every time you pass a sprig of space mistletoe that's even the slightest bit out of view of people. Anyway when you get back to the ship he suddenly take out a sprig and holds it above you and ur like ??? Oho, now you want to be cheerful 😏😏

Thank you for the request, love!! I had way too much fun writing a winter holiday fic in the middle of the summer?? I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader Rating: T Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: unapologetic fluff, the lightest spice

You were only here because you had worn Mando down with sheer persistence. You’d wheedled and charmed—he’d probably say annoyed—him for several hours as you tracked, captured, and walked the bounty back to the Crest together. And he’d finally grunted, “Fine.”

That one gruff word made you smile, though, because coaxing him to do what you wanted was getting noticeably easier, and that made your heart flutter with reckless hope.

Honestly, he’d been almost indulgent recently, by his standards at least. Mando—who had always been single-minded when it came to jobs—had started to go out of his way to give you what you wanted, even if it put you a few hours off your tight schedule. You noted every tiny change, every little concession he made for your happiness.

A few weeks ago, he stopped a hunt early when you mentioned off-hand that you had a headache. Despite your reassurances that you were fine, he brooked no argument, insisting that it would make no difference to apprehend the quarry the following day.

Every meal, he tossed you your favorite ration pack out of the choices on hand—because by this point, he knew your tastes by heart.

He told you to keep the black long-sleeved shirt he lent you one night when you really needed to do laundry. You remarked on how soft and cozy it was, and when you tried to return it, he’d said, “Keep it.” You were pretty sure he liked when you wore it around the ship before bed. His gaze lingered. It burned.

Mando’s softness had started to show, and—what was even better—this side of him seemed only available to you. He was the same cold, hard Mandalorian to everyone else. Whether he liked it or not, it seemed that you were slowly seeping into the vulnerable spaces between his armor, insinuating yourself into the heart of the man underneath. You were starting to suspect that you were his weakness... and fuck if that fact alone didn’t make you weak for him.

Your influence only extended so far, however.

He was here—at the local winter festival of the planet you were hunting on—but he wasn’t happy about it. No, he stood out amidst all the cheer and merriment, a stiff silver statue with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his beskar awash with a rainbow of flickering reflections.

The festival was an enchanting dream around him. The narrow street was lined with stalls selling baked treats and warm drinks and colorful gifts. Strings of blinking lights were wrapped around every streetlight and crisscrossed over your heads; multicolored ribbons and sparkling stars bedecked every doorway, windowsill, and kiosk. The delicious scents of cinnamon, vanilla, and cardamom laced the cool evening air. The music was joyful and upbeat, the festive atmosphere buzzing with warmth and excitement. All the revelers were wrapped up against the chill of the evening in colorful knitted sweaters, scarves, and mittens, tromping through the light dusting of snow. Couples walked by, hand-in-hand, smiling dopily at each other. Everything glittered with the lightest dusting of fresh powder, and children were gathering the fallen snow on the ground and pelting each other with snowballs, zipping between harried looking adults.

It was almost comical how out of place Mando looked surrounded by all of that. He was being his usual withholding self, standing off to the side while you perused the stalls of the local artisans and bought a warm, sugary drink and a cookie the size of your face. He never let you out of his sight, however, always within arm’s reach. He’d confirm your presence every so often with a hand on your shoulder or back as you walked next to him. You weren’t sure if it was to make him feel better or to make you feel better in the tight press of the crowd—either way, you liked it.

You were warm and happy—delighting in the joyful spirit of the holiday, but more importantly, in the knowledge that Mando had a soft spot for you.

As you meandered down the busy street, you noticed that above every doorway or stone archway, a little bunch of leaves was hung. You assumed they were purely decorative until you saw couple after couple of all shapes and sizes walk under one of those sprigs, look up, smile, and kiss.

After the fifth couple, you stopped and turned to Mando to say, “I guess it’s a tradition.”

Mando stood there, the stern lines of his visor fixed on the two women kissing sweetly under a stone archway and said, “Guess so.”

“That’s so cute!” You beamed as you watched them.

The snowy evergreen forest that bordered the town made for an idyllic backdrop behind them. As if on cue, tiny flakes of snow started falling softly, completing the dreamy picture before you. You squealed in pure joy at the adorable sight, clasping your hands together.

Mando laughed beside you, a warm chuckle crackling through his modulator. When you looked up at him, you saw that his visor was trained on your face, no longer on the couple.

“Mando! Look at you getting into the spirit,” you teased, poking his arm playfully.

He cocked his head at you, his voice laced with amusement as he said, “I watched you break a man’s arm this morning, and now you’re squealing at two people kissing in the snow. I’m experiencing some whiplash.”

“I contain multitudes, Mando,” you laughed.

“Clearly.”

“Come on,” you said with a grin, pulling him along, “I want to see the rest.”

From then on, your stomach swooped a little each time you walked under a decorated archway with Mando by your side. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was also thinking about kissing you each time you passed under one of those little sprigs.

Probably. Yes. No. Definitely not.

...Maybe?

As you walked down the long, winding street, it gradually started snowing harder, and the wind picked up. When the downpour shifted suddenly to an icy sleet, all the revelers around you exclaimed and scurried to find shelter from the deluge. Mando grabbed your hand and pulled you into a recessed doorway and right away, you looked up. You couldn’t help yourself—you knew it would be there. Sure enough, a little bunch of greenery was suspended over your heads.

You looked down quickly, too quickly, hoping Mando wouldn’t look up and notice it too. You didn’t want him to feel weird about it...but of course, he noticed it—he tilted his helmet up to inspect it for a moment. To your surprise, when he looked back down at you, he stepped toward you. Your heart dropped. He reached a gloved hand toward your face, and you held your breath, smiling up uncertainly at him. For one insane second, you thought he was going to lift his helmet right there in the privacy of this little alcove and kiss you.

Instead of cupping your cheek, however, he brushed the tips of his gloved fingers over your hair.

“Snow,” he explained, dusting it off.

“Oh, thanks,” you replied, trying not to let disappointment seep into your words.

You stood in awkward silence, waiting for the gale to pass. Luckily, just a few minutes later, the gusts of wind quieted, the snow slowing again to a light sprinkle of powder.

“Shall we?”

He nodded and followed you into the steady stream of people reemerging from under doorways and awnings. You wandered over to another promising looking dessert stand, Mando in toe, and examined the baked goods laid out before you. You made your purchase and thanked the vendor, but when you turned, Mando wasn’t behind you anymore.

You whipped your head around, looking for his tall, shiny form amidst the throngs of people. The smallest tendril of panic twined around your heart. His sudden absence underscored the fact that he never let you out of his sight when you were together in public.

You turned around again, and he was there.

“Where—”

He made no mention of his disappearance, instead interrupting you to ask, “Ready to go?”

“Wha—oh yeah, we can go,” you replied, adding good-naturedly, “You have been very patient, and I know this has been torture for you... so even though I want to stay here forever, we can leave.”

He tilted his helmet sassily at you, then turned on his heel and walked in the direction of the Razor Crest. You chuckled, finishing your treat as you trailed after him.

When you reached the edge of town, leaving behind the crowds of people as you entered the quiet forest, you squatted and scraped together some of the freshly fallen snow. You packed it into a compact ball and held it behind your back until you and Mando were within sight of the Razor Crest. Grinning, you hurried forward until you were only a few steps behind him and cocked your arm, tossing it straight at the back of his helmet. It hit him with a muted slush sound, and he stopped in his tracks. You froze, the biggest, guiltiest smile on your face as you watched snow slide down the back of his helmet and drop onto his cape.

He turned slowly.

“...Oops?” you said, wringing your hands together in mock contrition.

He perched his hands on his hips. You couldn’t hear it from this short distance but you could tell by the way his shoulders dropped that he’d let out a dramatic sigh.

You threw your hands up. “It’s part of the festivities, Mando—a tradition—I had to throw a snowball to round out the celebration.”

“Well, you asked for it.”

Your smile faltered when he bent down to scrape together his own snowball. Uh oh. You spun around and took off at a run across the clearing, heading toward the trees to find cover. You screeched when his snowball hit you square between the shoulder blades. Of course he’d have perfect aim. You smiled when you heard his muted chuckle behind you.

You ducked behind a thick trunk and crouched down to pat together another snowball—much larger this time. You straightened and peeked your head around the tree, but Mando was nowhere to be seen. Shit. You backed up slowly, retreating further into the forest as quietly as possible as you scanned the area for movement.

You whipped around just as a silver blur sprinted up behind you and shrieked when Mando wrapped two strong arms around you, pinning your own arms to your sides.

“Drop it.”

You giggled and released the snowball; it fell to the ground with a muffled whump.

“Surrender,” he growled, adopting his serious bounty hunter voice.

Heat unapologetically surged in your belly at the intimate sound of his voice so close to your ear and the feeling of his body pressed tightly to your back. “And what if I refuse?”

“I’ll show you no mercy.”

You grinned. “Do your worst, Mando.”

In one quick movement, he released you from his embrace and bent to catch your knees and back to sweep you up into his arms.

You laughed, wrapping an arm around his neck: “This is showing me no mercy?”

He started toward the Crest, looking down at your face to say: “I mean, did you want me to bring you in cold? That’s your only other option.”

Holding you even closer to his chest, he jostled you slightly as he pressed a button on his vambrace, and the ramp lowered as you approached.

“You would never! You’d have no one to go to winter festivals with if you killed me! And I know how much you love celebrations and cheer and fanfare.”

He scoffed. “You’d be surprised. I liked some parts of it.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

He walked up the ramp and into the hull.

You smiled up at him expectantly, eager to watch him scramble for a reply: “Okay, which parts?”

“I’ll show you.” He leaned down to set you on your feet, slapping the control behind him to shut the ramp.

You rolled your eyes, sure he had nothing: “Okay, then, show me.”

Gloved fingers circled your wrist, tugging you toward him until you were only a few inches from his armored chest. You looked up at the black void of his glass visor, your bewildered expression reflected back at you.

“Close your eyes for me.”

“How are you going to show me if my eyes are closed?”

He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled something small out of it. When he opened his hand, you saw that it was one of the bundles of that mystery plant from the festival. He held it up so it was suspended between you, above your head. Your eyes widened.

“Where did you—?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your lashes fluttered closed immediately this time. A gasp escaped your lips when you heard the hiss of his helmet’s release.

You felt the ghost of his breath first, warm as it fanned over your face. He was waiting, giving you the chance to move away if you wanted to. You stayed put, the corner of your mouth twitching up in a smile. Just when you were about to lose patience and blindly reach out for him, he pressed his lips to yours tentatively, still gauging your reaction. As soon as he felt you respond, kissing him back eagerly, he wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you close. Your hands found their way around his neck, and you deepened the kiss, parting your lips.

He pulled back a tiny bit to whisper: “I like this part.”

***

Part 2

***

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toru-oikawas-milkbread · 3 years

Text

Hidden Truths

Pairing: Demon!Tōru Oikawa x f!reader x Vampire!Hajime Iwaizumi

Prompt/summary: On a late night, you waited in the graveyard that you lived in and kept up as a groundskeeper, leaned against your late great grandmothers tombstone. When Oikawa comes to see you, the plan was to stay around and hang out like you always did when the demonic trickster would visit you. He seemed to have different ideas, dragging you out of the graveyard for the first time in what felt like forever. After warning you numerous times that it was dangerous out in the world and you shouldn’t leave the safety that the ghosts held over the graveyard, he forced you to go with him even as you begged him to let you stay. He insisted that you meet his friend Iwaizumi even if you were worried, and much to your pleasure, the three of you came back to the graveyard after picking up the stranger. Little did you know that your friend Oikawa had more to tell you than you ever could have known about on this cold night

Word count: 11.4K

Warnings/contents: Smut: Oral, pussy and anal penetration, hint of male masterbation, lots of teasing, squirting. Secrecy, fluff, happy ending, mentions of death

Notes: I remember once I said that I didn’t think this fit would surpass 11.1K words and then I checked after proofreading this yesterday and it turns out that I was so very wrong and in fact I added too many more words. This is the longest pic I’ve done thus far, maybe next Halloween I’ll surpass even this 😂 now, this fic isn’t anything too intense in the smut area, it was written more casual than most of my smuts are because the rest of the chapter is already so long. I hope that you all enjoy this and that you’ve enjoyed reading my October series that officially finished earlier today! I know I’ve enjoyed writing a story every day, it was a great challenge even with just a short amount of words to get something out every single day

I hope everyone has/has had if you’re in a different timezone than I, a great Halloween! Stay safe out there everyone, stay hydrated and have a great time no matter what you’re doing/have done this Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday, I’m not sure about everyone else, so I’ve been excited for today even if I don’t do much 😂

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Carefully, you stepped off of the tombstone where your great grandmothers body laid rested beneath the earth, clicking your flashlight on in the dimly lit area and shining it around the graveyard where you lived and kept up. With a huff of air from your nose, you walked a couple steps out into the graveyard, careful not to step on any resting bodies beneath the dirt.

“Where is he?” You asked yourself quietly. Your undead friend, or rather something more, whom you met over a year ago in this very same graveyard with a hatchet in his head as he feigned a death was supposed to meet you here over 20 minutes ago, and while he was always at least 5 minutes late— “Fashionably late” as he always called it, he was never over 10 minutes late. You worried for the man, fiddling with your fingers before two cold hands rested over your eyes and made you gasp.

“Guess who~?” A familiar voice sang into your ear with a mischievous chuckle following.

“Dammit Oikawa, you scared me!” You said, turning and looking at the man with a scolding frown as you pushed his hands off of you. “Don’t do that!” The man, or rather demon, held two hands up in defense as he feigned a look of innocence while looking at you with mischievous glowing red eyes.

“Oopsies, sorry cutie.” He said with a little smirk, his tone completely unapologetic. “Have you been so anxiously waiting for me?” He asked with a small pout. “That’s so cute.” You rolled your eyes at the man and crossed your arms.

“Of course I’ve been waiting for you, we were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago.” Oikawa sent you a surprisingly apologetic look and rubbed the back of his head.

“I know, I know— I’m later than usual. I got caught up with a little spell book reading. I found this new potion to reverse time and I lost it trying to figure it out, ironically.” Skeptically, you looked at the man, though not because of his excuse.

“You shouldn’t meddle with time.” You said cautiously. “Nothing good ever comes from trying to relive the past in a physical way.” Oikawa gave a dreamlike sigh, ignoring your words as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and brought you close to his side.

“I know, I know.” He said, disregarding your worries completely. “Now, I was thinking we might wander the town.” He said, flipping his collar on the long jacket he always wore up as you sent him a curious look.

“Since when do you ever want to walk around late at night with me?” You asked with a suspicious look in your eye. “We always stay within the graveyard property. You say that’s where it’s safest to be.”

“Well, there’s a man I want you to meet.” He said simply. “You know Iwa-chan— he’s a vampire. He’s in town again and I thought it would be a fun little outing for the two of us.” He said with a simple smile as if the two of you were nothing more than a couple on an evening stroll going to see an old friend.

“Uh… well, I’m not sure if I want to meet a vampire.” You said anxiously as the man continued to lead you towards the exit of the graveyard.

“Oh, don’t worry about Iwa. He won’t hurt you. He’s a vegetarian, only drinks animal blood.” He promised. “Now, those other vampires I’d look out for.” He said with a click of his tongue. “Some have no care for their appearance and will ravage a human right in the middle of town square as if it’s the 18th century.” He said with a soft scowl that made you dig your heels into the ground even as he effortlessly continued to pull you along with him.

“Uh, Tōru— I don’t wanna go.” You said anxiously. “I’d rather stay here with the spirits— please.” You said with furrowed eyebrows, begging the man who only gave you an empty gaze with slightly raised eyebrows as if he was confused as to why you didn’t think he’d protect you from anything that may devour you in the middle of the town square.

“It’ll be fine,” he said in the most relaxing way he could. “I promise that Iwaizumi and nobody else will hurt you. You can trust me.”

“No offense, but you’re a demon.” Oikawa gave a soft chuckle as he brought you to the edge of the graveyard, pushing you out into the property now owned by the rest of the city as he then followed after you and held you close to his cold side again.

“You needn’t worry yourself so much, (y/n). I wouldn’t take you out here if I thought that it wasn’t safe.” He promised.

“But I—”

“Now, now, cutie,” he said with a soft tone, “You should trust me. Nobody is going to bother you with me around.” He promised, pulling you along with him. You felt strange, as if leaving the graveyard was forbidden, though you saw a familiar spirit across the street that you’d seen many times before; the old man looked blankly through you as he always did before floating slowly across the empty street that Oikawa was bringing you across with swift movements that you nearly struggled to keep up with.

Part of you almost wished that you were unable too see the spirits. That it might make living and working in the graveyard less scary, though for as long as you could remember, you’d been able to see and feel and sense spirits. Knowing that your grandfather was watching over your old house in the country and now seeing the numerous people who’s spirits stayed behind in the graveyard. As Oikawa’d long ago explained to you, some spirits found their way out while others didn’t.

With a harsh swallow, you walked with the man and fiddled with your fingers anxiously. He sensed and ignored your anxious feeling, forcing you from the comfort of your home and towards Iwaizumi’s. He thought it was long overdue that you met his best friend, after all the two of you had been friends and even something more for years now. There had almost always been a sort of unspoken thing between the two of you that Oikawa cherished even if you didn’t sense it— or even if you were merely ignoring it.

“You, uh… you promise that Iwaizumi won’t hurt me?” You suddenly asked quietly.

“I would never put you in a position that you might get hurt in.” He promised again, dragging you even still along with him. “Iwaizumi is a good guy. We’ve been friends since life.” He said with a sweet sigh. “I promise you’ll like him.” He ensured you. Hesitantly, you followed the man. Even if you were anxious, you were also partially excited. It had been years since you’d left the graveyard— or at least that’s what it felt like. Groceries were delivered while you worked, Oikawa brought you extra things you needed, and you never had issues with the small house. More than that, Oikawa interested you and you were rather excited to meet one of his friends.

Just as you looked up, Oikawa quickly turned the two of you.

“This way now,” he said, bringing you quickly along with him. You looked skeptically at the man, wondering why he’d taken such a sharp turn, but before you knew it the two of you were at an apartment complex. “Here we are,” he said, letting you go as the two of you walked inside. “Come with me. Stay close.” He said, walking down the halls with you by his side and stopping in front of a door. You looked around the nice apartment complex while you waited, but you didn’t have to wait long before a new man opened the door.

“Oikawa,” he said with a nod before his eyes fell to you. “I suspect this is (y/n).” He said, moving to bring the two of you inside. “Come on in.” He offered, but Oikawa stopped you before you could go.

“Actually, we were thinking we might go back to the graveyard.” He said and you only went along with it. You had no idea what the plan for tonight was and Oikawa seemed to be leading it. “Maybe you might see a familiar name. We can be at (y/n)’s little place. What do you say?” With a shrug, Iwaizumi nodded carelessly.

“Alright, let’s go.” He said, grabbing his jacket since he wore only a thin gray t-shirt and locked the door after him. He shoved his keys into his pocket, shoes already on and laced up as he walked with the two of you down the hall. You looked around, seeing a woman looking over quickly at the two boys before looking away. You frowned as it felt like she looked straight through you but ignored it, walking alongside the man and fiddling with your fingers as you walked out of the door. Oikawa gave a soft sigh and wrapped his arm around you again when the two of you made it outside.

“Now, I think it’s time for formal introductions. (y/n), this is my best friend Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan, this is my other best friend (y/n).” You sent the man a smile and nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a great deal about you.” You said, and it made the other man snicker.

“Call me Hajime, it’s my first name.” He said since Oikawa had only called him by his nickname. “You have no idea how much I’ve heard about you.” He said in return and it earned a slap on the arm from Oikawa.

“I, uh, guess that’s good…?” You said, stealing a look at the man who’s arm was securely around you and making you feel safe outside of the confines of the graveyard once again. You weren’t sure why he’d let you go in the building if he was only going to pull you close again around his friend, but you didn’t think too much on the fact as you kept close to him and looked around in an almost paranoid way.

There was a missing poster that caught your eye as the three of you walked down the street. You didn’t see the photo, but you felt a sudden burst of sadness. Maybe it was because of the poor family who was missing their child, partner or sibling, or maybe you were simply in an extremely empathetic mood, but you wished you’d gotten a look at the picture before Oikawa effortlessly brought you along with him.

The graveyard came into sight and pulled your thoughts away from the missing poster as the three of you walked through the steel gates. You immediately felt better— you felt at home and peaceful the further you walked into the graveyard, and you thought it was because your home came into sight.

“So what are we doing here?” Iwaizumi asked as the three of you stopped outside of your little house.

“We’re going to hang out,” Oikawa said. “I thought instead of it being us alone, it might have been fun for the two of my best friends to meet.” Oikawa let you go, leaning against a tombstone and looking at Iwaizumi. “Why, what do you want to do?”

“I want to eat.” He mumbled, looking around. “You got animals around this place?” He asked.

“Sometimes there’s owls in the trees.” You said, looking around. “But I don’t hear any tonight.” Iwaizumi gave a soft sigh and looked to you.

“Do you have any raw steak?” You thought for a moment and then nodded.

“Sure, I have some. Come on in.” You unlocked the door to your small house on the property and walked inside, being followed by the two men. You heard the lock click as Oikawa followed you in, a familiar sound as he always locked the door after the two of you. “Here, it’s in the freezer.” You flipped the kitchen light on and leaned up, opening the freezer and pulling out a small steak. Iwaizumi seemed to drool as you handed him the package.

“God, thank you.” He said, sitting at the small table in one of the old chairs and starting to open the sealed package with his teeth. “I’ll buy you a new one for this.” He said, sucking a bit of the blood out as you gave a wince and shut the freezer.

“No rush. I wasn’t planning on eating it too soon anyways.” You looked at Oikawa and then to the only other area in your house— the bed. It was a tiny space that was clearly not meant to be inhabited, but it was all that you had in this small Pennsylvania town. As a groundskeeper, you wanted to stay on the land and the man who hired you said that it would be alright if you stayed here so long as you paid the small bills. “I’ll be here.” You said, walking past the other man who stood by the doorway. The small bathroom that you entered from the end of the bed’s door was shut and the closet beside it was small and open with a curtain gently swaying as the vent below blew it around.

“Mind if I join?” Oikawa asked as he sat down on the bed beside you. You sent the man a smile and shook your head.

“Not a bit.” Oikawa smiled, leaning in while Iwaizumi’s back was turned to the two of you and pressed a kiss to your lips. You leaned into the man who pressed his hand to your thigh and leaned you back a bit on the bed. “Ah, if you were going to do this then we shouldn’t have invited Iwaizumi.” You whispered to the man who merely hummed and leaned down to kiss your neck.

“I’ll say,” Iwaizumi said back. “Who knew the sound of kissing was that loud to my ears all the way across the room.” You averted your eyes from the other man and looked at Oikawa as he pulled back a little bit and cupped your face in his hand.

“Who wouldn’t want to kiss these cute lips of yours,” he flirted, leaning in to kiss you again. You couldn’t help but lean back into him. His lips were as intoxicating as his scent was as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

“You guys are gross.”

“Says the man eating raw meat,” Oikawa quickly retorted before kissing you again and gently pushing you all the way back on the bed. You looked up at the man as he sat on your waist and leaned back in, pressing his hands flat on either side of you as he leaned down and kissed you quickly. “Maybe once your done you should join,” Oikawa sent you a little wink that you looked away from, embarrassed as he talked about bringing the other man who’d you’d previously before tonight only heard about into the bed with you. It wouldn’t have been the first, after all you’d had sex with Oikawa and his ghostly friend Matsukawa on more than one occasion, and even more than that with Matsukawa and his undead friend Makki. What was one more of his attractive friends?

“I don’t think I feel like joining your orgy.” The other man said plainly.

“Whatever you say,” Oikawa hummed. “I sure wouldn’t pass you up any day of the week, cutie.” He said with a little smirk as he leaned back down and kissed you. Iwaizumi glanced back, rolling his eyes as he went back to the raw meat that he had in hand. He sighed and looked back again, almost feeling disgusted by himself as he thought about Oikawa’s offer. The man was damn near desperate since the relationship he’d been in for a year had recently tanked. He was beyond sexually frustrated and he couldn’t help but feel pretty attracted to you. “Having second thoughts over there?” Oikawa asked with a small smirk against your lips. “Don’t forget I can hear those dirty thoughts of yours Iwa,” he teased the man who frowned deeply. “If you want to know what it feels like that badly, come find out for yourself.”

Iwaizumi gave a soft grunt, going back to the raw meat in his hand and finishing it off. Oikawa slid his hand up your side, groping at your chest and earning a soft sound from you that made Iwaizumi’s ears perk up. A soft chuckle from his best friend was quick to follow as he peeked back once more, watching you lay your head back as Oikawa went to kiss your neck.

“Just give up your pride,” Oikawa mumbled and gave a soft hum against your neck. “What, too nervous to be naked in front of two gorgeous people?”

“You are so full of yourself.” Iwaizumi shot back and it made Oikawa give a devious chuckle as he looked at his friend.

“Whatever your excuse is, Iwa-chan,” the man said, undoing a button on his shirt and stripping his jacket off. He tossed it onto the little chair you had by your bed and undid another button on his shirt as you anxiously looked over at the other man in the room. Maybe you’d had sex with Oikawa and his friends before, but never once had one of them just sat there and watched or even did their own thing. As shameless as Oikawa had always been, you were nearly too insecure to let someone else walk around the room while the man fucked you.

“Ah, Tōru, I don’t want to…” You mumbled, catching the mans attention.

“What, have something against Iwa that you didn’t have against Mattsun? Don’t worry, I don’t blame you, he’s pretty boring.”

“Dammit Oikawa—!”

“No, I just… I don’t want to… while he’s sitting there.” Oikawa gave soft hum and looked at his friend.

“Kick rocks, Iwa-chan— (y/n) either wants you in bed with us or to leave so I can fuck her alone.”

“Can’t your horny ass fuck her some time that you don’t force me to come along?” Iwaizumi asked with a deep frown.

“Uh, no— Iwa, this pussy is incredible.”

“Tōru!” You scolded the man who snickered at you.

“What, it’s true.” He said, looking to Iwaizumi who stood with a sigh and took his jacket off.

“I guess if it’s alright with (y/n), I should find out for myself if you think it’s so great.”

“Matsukawa and Makki agree with me.” Oikawa said simply and it only embarrassed you that much more.

“Make me sound like a slut why don’t you.” Iwaizumi gave a soft chuckle at your words and pressed a knee to your bed as he leaned over you.

“Don’t worry, I like my girls slutty.” He said, making your eyes widen a bit as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

“Uh, I was so kissing her first.” Oikawa said with a soft frown. “You can’t make fun of me and then decide to come over here and kiss my fuck buddy.” He said as Iwaizumi pulled back and rolled his eyes.

“Just take your damn clothes off like you were before and quit complaining.” Iwaizumi said simply, taking his shirt off. Your eyes went straight to his muscular body, staring at his abs while he tossed the clothing aside. Iwaizumi helped you sit up, sliding your shirt quickly off of you and groping at your chest over the red bra that you wore. “God, these are nice.” He said, giving your breasts another squeeze while Oikawa tossed off his shirt.

“Aw, cutie, this is pretty.” He said with a little hum, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your collarbone while Iwaizumi groped at your chest and watched his own handiwork. You swallowed hard, shifting on the bed as the two shirtless men eyed you. Oikawa was quick to steal your attention as he leaned in and kissed you. A soft sound came from you as iwaizumi undid the bra strap and slid the clothing off of you.

“You have such nice tits,” Iwaizumi said, tossing your bra aside carelessly before leaning in and enclosing his mouth around your nipple. Suddenly, Oikawa pushed you down on the bed and earned a soft sound in shock from you and a look from Iwaizumi as your nipple quickly fell from his mouth. “Hey— what the hell?”

“We’re only repositioning a little bit,” Oikawa said, his hands sliding along your thighs and fiddling with your jeans. “Now how about we take these off of you and you let me ravage this little pussy?” He asked with a grin that you found hard to say no to. So with a nod from you, Oikawa quickly took the clothing off of you. Easily, the man pulled both your jeans and panties off with one quick pull, tossing them aside before sliding his hands back along your body and leaning in. “Mmm, you look so tasty.” He licked his lips and pressed a kiss to the top of your pussy before licking your clit.

Your attention was once again quickly taken from the man you’d been with like this on so many different occasions to the new man beside you as he leaned down and pressed his palm to your cheek.

“Don’t look at him, look at me.” He said, kissing you quickly. “Or better yet, put this mouth to better use than kissing me.” Iwaizumi moved, sitting up and undoing the button on his jeans. You couldn’t help but notice the rather large bulge in his pants that only seemed bigger as he took his clothes off. “You’re lucky it’s not too cold out or else I might’ve taken longer to get this hard.” He said, watching you quickly frown.

“What do you mean, it’s been so cold all year.” You said, making the other man frown, but before he could speak Oikawa pushed his fingers into your mouth suddenly and swiped your attention away from Iwaizumi.

“Suck my fingers, baby. Make me throb for you.” You did as the man asked, watching him give a little smile as he went back to sucking on your clit. Iwaizumi brushed what you said off with one final strange look in Oikawa’s direction before sitting on the edge of the bed when he took his boxers off and making your eyes widen as you looked at him.

“Get your fingers out of her mouth, shittykawa, it’s my turn.” The other man gave a soft grunt against your clit before sliding his fingers out of your mouth and slowly down your body where he groped at your chest. “Sit up a bit and suck me off. We’ll see how good you really are or see if Oikawa’s just full of shit.” He said, not meaning for it to come out as harsh as it had, however you ignored his tone and leaned up on your elbows, leaning in while Iwaizumi held his cock out for you.

A soft moan came from Oikawa as he lightly grinded himself down on the soft yet old mattress while you took Iwaizumi into your mouth and started to suck on the tip of his dick. A soft furrow of Oikawa’s eyebrows went unseen by both of you as you closed your eyes and Iwaizumi watched you. Unlike with Matsukawa, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy as you sucked on Iwaizumi’s cock. Maybe it was because the two of them were so close for so long, but he pulled you closer and closed his eyes, frowning as he sucked hard on your pussy and made you give a moan against Iwaizumi’s shaft that made Oikawa a bit proud— because he’d made you make that noise, not Iwaizumi.

You took more of Iwaizumi into your mouth, sucking hard on the man’s cock, still a bit surprised to have learned that a vampire could have gotten this hard. You couldn’t help but notice how warm he felt against your tongue. You also couldn’t resist eyeing the man between your legs the best that you could, giving a soft sound as he kept his eyes closed and licked and sucked on your pussy so good that it made your body tingle.

Your eyes slowly lagged shut as the man made you feel so good, involuntarily making you lean closer to Iwaizumi as you sucked on his shaft. A moan left the man as you managed to slide him further down your throat than you remembered being able to do even just the past few years. You wanted to think Oikawa was to thank, yet your tolerance to deep-throating seemed to come out of nowhere. You certainly couldn’t complain about the ability as you earned a nice sound from the man who’s cock slid down your throat.

Iwaizumi’s hand buried in your hair, giving it a sharp tug that earned a soft sound in return from you as he reached down with his other hand to help steady your head and gently rocked his hips against your mouth. Tossing his head back with tightly closed eyes, Iwaizumi gave a groan that made your pussy clench just as Oikawa worked on shoving two of his fingers easily inside of you and giving a soft little laugh against your clit.

“Mmm, you’re so wet, baby.” He said simply, licking along your clit as you kept your eyes closed while Iwaizumi thrusted inside of your mouth a bit quicker, giving a hiss as your teeth scraped along his shaft. “Just for me, right? Not for Iwa,” he teased, earning a look from the man that made him chuckle against you again.

“It’s my cock she’s sucking on, of course she’s wet for me.” Iwaizumi said simply, looking down at you and giving his lips a quick lick. With a sigh, he gave your hair another little tug. “You’re making me feel so good down there.”

“Are you gonna cum, Iwa?” Oikawa teased. “That’s pretty fast.” Iwaizumi sent his friend a dirty look that made the man laugh against you.

“Shut up, trashykawa. When I cum is my business. It’s between me and (y/n), not you.”

“Well, I am here, too, after all.” Oikawa said, “So it a little bit involves me.”

“It doesn’t involve you to find out when I cum, dammit.” He said with a deeply set frown. “Just mind your own business and keep making her make those noises around me like that.” He said, giving your hair another tug while you sucked on his shaft as he thrusted steadily inside of your mouth; thankfully for the man, he didn’t need to think about thrusting inside of you and it had come naturally in this moment as he argued with Oikawa, nearly turning him off in the moment. Sure, all those years ago the two had fucked a human together once before she died an early death at the age of 22, but that didn’t mean that Iwaizumi preferred to share such intimate moments with his friend every step of the way in this eternity of a lifetime they had together.

“Suit yourself,” Oikawa hummed, curling his fingers deep inside of you and earning a sweet sound from you that made his aching cock twitch against the bed for you as he gave a hum and sucked on your clit. Closing his eyes, Oikawa went back in and sucked hard on your pussy, making you give more desperate sounding moans against Iwaizumi’s cock and slowly brought him closer to the edge with every squeeze of your throat around him while you moaned.

With a sigh, Oikawa suddenly pulled away from you and it earned a soft, saddened sound from you against Iwaizumi’s cock.

“Don’t worry cutie, I’m not going far.” He promised, reaching down to undo the button on his jeans. He quickly took the clothing off and tossed them aside along with his boxers, giving a soft and content sigh as he got between your legs, wrapping them around his hips and gently grinding the tip of his cock against your clit. “Oooh, you’re so wet,” he teased, positioning himself at your entrance and easily pushing himself slowly inside of you, though earning a soft whine from you as he stretched you out. “Mm, fuck— you squeeze me so good,” he said with a sigh as he started to rock himself against you, something that made your eyebrows furrow upwards deeply.

Giving your hair a little tug, Iwaizumi thrusted against your throat and gave a groan that Oikawa swore made you more wet around him. The man inside of you gave a soft hum, thrusting a bit faster and making you give a desperate moan around Iwaizumi at the sudden and quick stimulation. Stealing a quick glance at Oikawa who relaxed his head back with closed eyes, Iwaizumi couldn’t help how his cock twitched in your mouth.

He knew it was going to happen at any time, after all he’d been damn near on the edge of cumming just a minute previous when Oikawa distracted him, but this time things were different all together. He bit his lip, eyebrows furrowed inwards as he looked down to your closed eyes and then to your breasts that were bouncing nicely along with every thrust inside of you from Oikawa that made your toes curl.

Damn near at the same time as he’d cum in your mouth a moment before you reached your own orgasm around Oikawa’s cock and gave a shaky moan around Iwaizumi’s cock. With a soft sigh, Iwaizumi pulled himself out of your mouth while Oikawa gave a devious sounding little chuckle; Iwaizumi peeked at his friend who eyed you as you laid your head back on the bed and moaned as he continued to thrust inside of you quickly.

“You guys are so cute, cumming at the same time,” Oikawa teased, making his friend roll his eyes while you reached up and held tightly onto the sheets by your head. Oikawa didn’t take his eyes off of you, watching your breasts bounce along with his movements and hearing some little hums come from the man. “Now why don’t you cum for me again, cutie. Cum around me again just like that.” He said, steadily thrusting inside of you and making you give a consistent string of sweet moans that made his cock ache inside of you.

“God, Oikawa, keep her all to yourself why don’t you.” Iwaizumi huffed as Oikawa moaned softly.

“You had her mouth around you, Iwa— it’s my turn.”

“You were inside of her that whole time.” Iwaizumi frowned, but this time, Oikawa chose to ignore him. Iwaizumi huffed, not surprised that his friend was ignoring him. After all, it was Oikawa— what was he if not an obnoxious little asshole of a best friend that iwaizumi had known since their human childhood together? “What the hell am I supposed to do now,” Iwaizumi mumbled, though obviously only to himself as you were moaning and Oikawa was ignoring him, eyeing you with a little smirk on his face. “Alright, fuck,” he mumbled, relaxing back on the bed and looking between the two of you. With a clenched jaw, Iwaizumi reached down and grasped at his shaft. He closed his eyes, listening to your moans and thinking of how it felt to have your mouth around his shaft again. With the thought in mind, he gave a soft groan as he stroked his cock.

Oikawa chuckled, stealing Iwaizumi’s attention as his friend leaned in, enclosing his mouth around your nipple before quickly kissing up your neck. You moved to quickly kiss the man back while he thrusted inside of you, completely leaving the man beside the two of you out who felt awkward sitting there. Despite previously getting his cock sucked by you, he felt unwelcome in the bed. Unwelcome by his friend who invited him here. Unwelcome by you who kissed Oikawa back so passionately with your legs around his waist while the man fucked you.

Awkwardly looking away and sighing, Iwaizumi continued to stroke his shaft. Oikawa’s tongue pushed into your mouth, licking your own while you grabbed desperately onto the mans shoulders and clenched around him. The bed rocked steadily along with his movements and Oikawa wondered if he may break the old bed frame with his vigorous movements.

“Mm, fuck Tōru,” you mumbled, his lips pushing back to yours not even a moment later. Iwaizumi looked to the two of you again as you tossed your head back on the bed and Oikawa went to kiss and suck along your neck. You peeked your eyes open at Iwaizumi and beckoned him closer. He moved closer to the two of you on the bed, and you were quick to pull him down to kiss him. Iwaizumi pressed his hand flat to Oikawa’s back in shock of how quickly you pulled him down, something Oikawa didn’t mind and yet gave a soft hum at as he shifted on top of you.

Kissing Iwaizumi while he sucked on your neck made you squirm at all of the sensations building up. Just as you thought you might cum, Iwaizumi slid his hand beneath Oikawa and gently started to rub at your clit while the man thrusted inside of you. It made your hips jerk beneath the man as you broke the kiss with Iwaizumi as you gave a desperate and shocked moan. He licked his lips, rubbing faster on your clit and making you squirt out around Oikawa’s shaft that thrusted steadily inside of you. With a moan, the man on top of you finally reached an orgasm of his own inside of you, coming to a stop and resting his forehead to your shoulder with a sigh.

“Alright,” Oikawa mumbled as he sat up, stretching himself out and pulling out of you. A soft whine left you as you looked at the man who laid back on the bed beside you. “Come here, cutie. Come ride me.” You nodded, moving and sitting on his hips while Iwaizumi sat up beside the two of you. Sitting on Oikawa’s cock, you easily took the man inside of you and started to rock your hips against him. A moan left you as you pressed your hands to his chest and looked at Iwaizumi who moved even closer.

“Mmm, fuck…” You mumbled. Moving steadily on Oikawa and listening to the man give a soft moan as he laid his head back on the bed.

“Shittykawa, this isn’t fair.” Iwaizumi said, deeply frowning at his friend who carelessly grabbed onto your hips to steady you and easily thrusted up inside of you, earning a moan from you. “You’ve fucked her twice now. You have to share if I’m here.“ Oikawa hummed and looked at the man.

“Then leave.”

“Wha— maybe I don’t want to leave.” With a moan, you broke the argument by leaning closer to Iwaizumi while Oikawa thrusted inside of you and pushed your lips to his. It was a sort of sloppy kiss as your tongue went into his mouth, but Iwaizumi wasn’t complaining; his hand cradled the back of your head while you reached down and started to stroke his shaft. You grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand back down to your clit and making the man feel warm as he pressed his fingers to your clit.

“Mmm, fuck, just like that,” you mumbled, kissing Iwaizumi again and leaving both of the men confused as to who you were talking to, so both of them continued to do the same thing that they’ve been doing this whole time to increase your pleasure. Oikawa shifted beneath you, moaning as you squeezed tighter around him with every rub from Iwaizumi’s fingers. He wasn’t sure if you would be able to cum again so soon, but Iwaizumi was aching to hear more of your moans. Your hand squeezed his shaft, moving it faster while you kissed him.

With a soft sigh, Oikawa suddenly stopped moving.

“Alright, Iwa. Trade me.” He said, lifting you off of him and easily moving. He kissed you when Iwaizumi pulled back despite his hand still holding your head, and with your hand stopping on his shaft, you kissed Oikawa back quickly. Iwaizumi moved, trading spots with Oikawa who broke the kiss and moved behind you, pressing a few scattered kisses to your neck.

Iwaizumi got close to you, catching your attention as he positioned himself at your entrance. You were wet, but the lingering knowledge that Oikawa had came inside of you not long ago was on his mind. Tossing the thought aside, Iwaizumi smiled a bit in your direction, grabbing your hips and pulling you close to push himself inside of you. Oikawa slid his hands along your ass while Iwaizumi started to move inside of you, his fingers reaching around to rub at your clit while his other pinky teased your asshole.

A moan came from you as the stimulation hit you, shifting on your knees but not being able to move anywhere with Iwaizumi thrusting inside of you. A moan left the man as you squeezed tight around his shaft.

“Oh, cutie,” Oikawa started, kissing your neck. Your body tensed when he rubbed his dick against your ass, spreading your cheeks and pushing his finger deeper inside of you. “Why don’t we prep this ass for me and get you ready to take both of us at the same time.” He’d done it before, with Matsukawa most recently, a man thicker and bigger than even Iwaizumi himself. “Spread these legs more for me,” he said simply, and you did it as much as you could with Iwaizumi inside of you. “Good girl,” he said, pushing his ring finger inside of you as well and sighing in content as you leaned back against him and moaned.

“Ah, Tōru!” You moaned, toes curling. “Fuck!” Iwaizumi groaned as you squeezed so tight around him, glancing back at Oikawa who peppered kisses along the back of your neck, his fingers sliding up your body from your clit and cupping around your breast. Oikawa kissed your cheek, fingering your ass faster while Iwaizumi thrusted into you steadily and brought you close to another orgasm. “God, fuck— I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” Oikawa nuzzled close to you, his eyes closed and humming softly by your ear.

“Go ahead and cum, baby.” Oikawa said softly. “Cum around Iwaizumi,” he brought his hand back down and started to rub your clit, looking down and watching as your hips wiggled slightly while Iwaizumi thrusted fast inside of you and Oikawa rubbed quick at your clit. A soft hum came from the man behind you while you kept your head back on his shoulder, eyes closed so tight you saw imaginary swirls of colors. Iwaizumi leaned in, catching Oikawa’s attention. He wondered what his friend was doing, but he didn’t have to wonder for long before Iwaizumi’s mouth pressed to your throat. You moaned, grasping tight at Iwaizumi’s shoulder, something he didn’t mind and instead only focused on sucking on your neck.

“Fuck, I can’t—” You moaned out, toes tightly curled and trying to reach your orgasm that Oikawa was teasing you by slowing down on your clit and then picking up the pace to drive you wild. You clenched tight around Iwaizumi, unable to cum again right now from just how much you’d already cum around him. Oikawa kissed your neck before looking at Iwaizumi.

“Lay down.” He said simply, moving away from you with one final kiss to your neck. Iwaizumi shifted, bringing you with him to lay back on the bed. You moaned softly, resting on his hips, but before you could move, Iwaizumi started to thrust up into you. You set your hands flat on his chest while he thrusted up into you, making you moan and close your eyes as the stimulation inside of you damn near hurt.

A soft hum came from Oikawa, catching your attention as you looked over your shoulder at him. He grabbed a bottle of lube, winking quickly at you and putting a generous amount on his cock with a content sigh.

“You want to take both of us, cutie?” He asked with a little grin that you couldn’t say no to. “You can do it,” he promised, getting back on the bed and spreading your legs more. He licked his lips, sliding his fingers along your asshole and rubbing the lube that was still on his fingers now onto you. He grasped his cock and gave a soft hum, rubbing it against your ass and pushing your shoulder down so you laid on Iwaizumi. The other man peeked at Oikawa, bringing his hand along your ass and helping his friend by spreading your asscheeks and holding you still on him while you nuzzled against his neck. “Thank you, Iwa.” He said, teasing your asshole with the tip of his cock.

You let out a moan right by Iwaizumi’s ear as Oikawa pushed some of himself inside of you, something that not only made you whine but also made you squirm against Iwaizumi who was no longer moving and only laying there and enjoying the way that you clenched around him with every slight nudge from Oikawa. Your fingernails dug into the sheets beside Iwaizumi, squeezing your eyes shut so tight that it hurt while Oikawa started to push more of himself inside of you.

Oikawa took things slow, gently nudging himself inside of you and sliding his hands along your back while Iwaizumi damn near panted beneath you at how tightly your pussy clenched around him because of the new stimulation that was stretching you out. It wasn’t the first time you’d done anal, in fact you’d done it every time that you had sex with Oikawa and his friends, but that didn’t exactly make it easy right at first, even if you did it with the man more than once.

“Mmm, good girl, little cutie,” Oikawa praised lightly. “You’re taking me so well,” he sighed in relief and leaned his head back as he pushed the last inch of himself inside of you and closed his eyes. “Ah, fuck— you’re so tight.” He gently rocked his hips, making you whine as Iwaizumi held completely still. “Mm, I can’t wait to feel you squeezing around me while I’m moving inside of you, baby,” he said, replacing Iwaizumi’s hands on your ass as the man reached up to hold onto your sides when Oikawa’s fingers brushed against his own. “I’m gonna start moving,” he said, watching as you gave a gentle nod that surprised Iwaizumi.

He thought that Oikawa might give you more time than this, maybe even that you might want more time than this. But you seemed so content with what he was doing, seeming to adjust rather quickly as your moans went from pained to rather pleasurable in what Iwaizumi felt like was record timing. A whine came from you that didn’t seem so pained as you nuzzled closer to Iwaizumi as Oikawa started to thrust more inside of you.

“Ah, cutie— it feels so good. Do you feel good yet, Iwa?” The man asked, looking down at his friend who ran his hand along your back and looked at Oikawa. “Does it feel good with her squeezing you, Iwa?” The man licked his lips and nodded.

“It’s feeling pretty good.”

“Why don’t you do something,” he said simply, sliding his hand along your lower back. “Thrust up into her, Iwa. She can take it, can’t you cutie?” The man leaned over you more, grabbing your shoulder and pulling you up onto your hands. You shifted, looking down at Iwa and chewing on the inside of your lip. “Go ahead, tell Iwa you can take it.” He said, thrusting against your ass and making you moan as your eyes closed.

“I can take it.” Iwaizumi looked skeptically at you. “I can take it,” you said again, this time looking at the man. “It’ll feel good,” you said assuredly, shifting on his cock and making the man give a little moan before grasping your hips to start gently thrusting up inside of you. With a gasp, you tensed at the movements and grasped tight onto the sheets, but you stayed still otherwise. “Ah, don’t stop!” You said, leaning your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck, it’s feeling so tight!” You moaned out, making Oikawa give a little laugh as he thrusted inside of you. Iwaizumi gently thrusted up into you, watching as your breasts bounced with every movement. “Ah, Tōru!” You moaned out, clenching so tight around Iwaizumi he assumed it had to have hurt as he thrusted inside of your clenching pussy.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Oikawa mumbled, licking his lips and thrusting quicker inside of you as you adjusted to the size of both him and Iwaizumi inside of you. “Ah, baby, it feels so good.” He said, biting down on his lip. “Keep clenching around me just like that.” He said, giving your ass a light slap. A soft sigh came from the man in content as he thrusted steadily into you while Iwaizumi started to slowly work up the pace until he started to move quicker, something that made your pussy clench tight around him again.

“Ah, fuck!” You moaned out. “Fuck, Hajime— fuck!” Oikawa leaned down and kissed your shoulder before leaning back up and thrusting quicker inside of you. You let out a moan and reached up for your hair to brush it back as the two men were moving steadily inside of you and making your entire body shake and shiver. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum— fuck, I can’t— I can’t— it’s too much stimulation, I can’t hold it!” You moaned out loudly. Oikawa gave a soft chuckle and thrusted steady and hard against your ass.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum. Why don’t you squirt all over Iwa-chan,” he said, grabbing tight onto your hips while you laid your head down on Iwaizumi’s chest and held tightly onto the sheets by him. “Wouldn’t you like that, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa teased the man beneath you who tried to thrust as steadily into you as he could. Your clit was throbbing as both of the men thrusted inside of you. “Go ahead, cutie— Iwa-chan likes it.” He winked at his friend who rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, shittykawa.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.” He chuckled, but before Iwaizumi could even retort, you reached an orgasm around Iwaizumi and curled your toes on the sheets. The man beneath you groaned out, laying his head back on the bed as you clenched tight around him and squirted for longer than he thought that you would. He tried to deny it, but as you clenched around him, his legs shook slightly as he finally reached an orgasm inside of you. Oikawa laughed and leaned his head back as he gave a few more thrusts inside of you. “How cute, the two of you came nearly at the same time again.” He teased, though Iwaizumi, as he panted and groaned as you still clenched tight around him, swore he heard annoyance in his friends tone. A soft sigh came from Oikawa, a few more thrusts inside of you and he reached his orgasm inside of you and slowly stopped thrusting.

Sighing, the man moved, sitting back on the bed and looking at you as you moved off of Iwaizumi. You laid on the bed beside the man who slowly sat up and rubbed his head.

“That was… fun.” Iwaizumi said, looking at you and then at Oikawa who nodded and looked to you.

“How about you, cutie? Did you have fun?” You nodded, looking at the man and rubbing your eyes. Oikawa stood, quickly putting his boxers and pants on before grabbing a towel and bringing it over. “Here, you wipe up,” he said, starting to gather your tossed aside clothes while Iwaizumi stood and stretched. He searched for his clothes, putting Oikawa’s shirt onto the bed when he found it. Oikawa helped you put your shirt on, handing you your pants as you yawned and put them on.

“Thank you,” you said, making the man smile before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. Iwaizumi looked to you, putting his boxers on while Oikawa wrapped a blanket around your shoulders while you moved on the bed to lay on the other side where it wasn’t wet. You sent the man one final smile before laying down on your side and trying to get comfortable. You curled into the pillow, falling quickly into a dreamless sleep that left you restless— it was strange, as of late you’d fallen quickly into sleep whereas years before you’d struggled for hours almost. Oikawa stood, grabbing the shirt that Iwaizumi put on the bed and buttoning his shirt as he gave a soft sigh as he looked to his friend who put his pants back on.

“Iwa?” The man looked at his friend with a small hum. “I have to tell you something about (y/n).”

You sat up on the bed, giving your eye a rub as you looked to the side and saw Iwaizumi sitting in the little chair reading a book that you had on your shelf. With a yawn, you stood up and stretched your fore body out, walking across your little house and seeing Oikawa. He was sitting on the small seat by the window, staring out almost in a dreamlike state. Hesitantly, you walked closer to the man instead of getting a glass of water like you originally planned.

“Good morning. What are you doing?” Oikawa flinched as he looked at you.

“Oh, how did you sleep?” He asked, ignoring your question.

“Fine. Are you okay?” You asked. He seemed to swallow hard as he looked back out the window. Iwaizumi ignored the two of you it seemed, though keeping an ear out to see if the truth was finally going to fall past Oikawa’s sealed lips. Much to the man’s surprise, his friend spoke something he wasn’t expecting instead of a blunt lie.

“Cutie, I… have something to tell you.” Oikawa said as you sat on the edge of the window with him.

“What is it?” He hesitated for a moment before looking at you and chewing on the inside of his lip.

“Well… you know how I told you that it was dangerous to leave the graveyard all that time ago?”

“Yeah, awhile after I moved into the little house here to keep up the place. Why?” You asked. “Is there… something you weren’t telling me?” Oikawa gave a soft gulp and looked back out the window as a ray of sunlight crept through the cloudy skies.

“You wouldn’t remember because I put a spell on you,” he whispered. “I didn’t want you to be hurt, but… I think it might hurt you more now than finding out before.” You frowned at the man and leaned closer to him.

“Why? What did you do?”

“I found you.” He said softly, refusing to meet your eye. “Or rather… your body.” He added quietly. “I was horrified, I hadn’t heard from you all night so I went looking for your scent and… needless to say, I found you.” He scowled as he thought back. “You’re not… you’re not alive anymore.” You were hesitant, shocked by his words and yet thinking maybe this was some sick game he was playing.

“Stop joking, Tōru, that’s not funny.” You said softly, but he shook his head.

“I’m not. I found your beaten body in the woods, I saw your spirit still sleeping by your grandmothers grave when I came here, and I put a spell on you.” He said as if it was nothing. “I didn’t want you to be scared. I didn’t… I didn’t want to deal with it, so I thought putting it off and saving the truth for another time would make this easier. The reason you never want to leave this place and the reason I tell you it isn’t safe isn��t because you’ll die. It’s because your spirit belongs here and there’s missing posters of you all over town.”

“Why?” You asked softly. “Why did you do this?” You stood slowly, backing a few steps away from the man. “I thought that… you were telling me the truth this whole time.” Oikawa looked down and shook his head gently.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I thought this would be better. I guess I was wrong.” You were silent for a moment before frowning.

“Is there anything else you’ve been so secretly keeping from me?” You asked, watching the man shake his head. “I want my memories back.” Again, the man shook his head and looked at you.

“I’ve done many horrible things to you lately; that won’t be another.” You were going to speak before he cut you off. “The way that you died was too gruesome, nobody should have to live with that.” He said softly. “I’m not putting you through that and you’re going to have to just suck it up.” You were torn between a mix of feelings; frightened, angry, annoyed, betrayed— yet you nodded. You understood even if you were mad at the man. He didn’t look to be lying, and if your death had been as gruesome as he claimed, you weren’t sure you wanted to know what happened anyways. “I’m sorry, (y/n).” He said. “I promise I haven’t lied to you about anything else.” You fiddled with your fingers and looked down.

“Okay.”

“Do you think… you could ever forgive me?”

“Yes.”

“What can I do?”

“Don’t lie to me anymore.” He nodded even if he wasn’t sure if you’d seen it or not because you kept your eyes down.

“I won’t.” He promised. You hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“I want to know what happened. Even if you don’t give me my memories back, just… fill in the details.” A sigh came from Oikawa as you thought back to that night; you had woken up sleeping on the ground and you’d been surprised, though even more-so to see the man leaned against the grave across from you. His fabricated story that night had been he’d come to see you and found you sleeping on the ground, but you didn’t remember laying down or even the past few hours of the night since you had gone out to town and gotten some groceries. More than that, your groceries and car had been nowhere to be seen that day.

“Okay.” He said softly. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“How did I die?”

“Trauma to your head.”

“Who killed me?”

“Some hunter. I already marked him with karma, you needn’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He said simply and you were certain you didn’t want to know what Oikawa had planned to do with the man, so you moved on with a nod.

“Was my body found?”

“Not yet. You’re only missing. They keep missing the spot that your body is in because I… well, I put up a spell so that anyone who went over there thought they’d already seen that space and would get disoriented. I didn’t want your body found because I didn’t want you to find out.” He said in a guilty sort of tone. “You’re decomposing as we speak.” You clenched your jaw and looked down.

“Can I see my body?” Oikawa hesitated for a moment before nodding.

“Okay.” He stood, looking back at Iwaizumi who was lacing his boots back up as he knew this conversation as going to go one of two ways and he didn’t want to be caught in the cross-fire. “Are you coming with, Iwa?”

“Sure, what else does a vampire have to do aside from work, right?” He asked with an eye roll. “At least you guys are dead.”

“Too soon, Iwa—” Oikawa said in a harsh tone that you interrupted.

“It’s fine, go to work. We have… eternity together. I suppose I’ll be seeing you again.” Iwaizumi gave a soft laugh and stood.

“You’re right,” as he passed you, Iwaizumi gave your head a soft pat. “Once you get comfortable leaving home again, come visit me.” He handed you a small slip of paper that he’d torn off of from your notebook by your bed at some point, and as you took it you saw that his phone number was wrote down. “I’ll send you the address whenever you want. Trashykawa can come too if he wants.” The other man rolled his eyes as he carefully took the paper from you and set it down on the table. You didn’t miss the small smirk that Iwaizumi sent the man, but you didn’t know why.

“We have things to do now, Iwa.” The man nodded, sending you a tight smile before heading out of the small house and holding the door for you.

“So the sun doesn’t really bother vampires like they say it does, huh?” You asked as you stepped out of the small keepers house and looked at the vampire.

“Not a bit as long as you eat enough garlic.” You stopped in your tracks for a moment and frowned at the man. “It was a myth made up by old vampires so that humans would think they held the power.” He said simply. “It doesn’t taste good but it sure as hell makes the sun burn a lot less.” You gave an interested hum and got out of Oikawa’s way as he walked out of the house.

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.” You said as Oikawa shut your door and walked over to you.

“You ready?” The man asked. You gave a nod looking from the man to Iwaizumi.

“See you.” He smiled and nodded, looking once more at the other man before turning to head out of the graveyard.

“See you soon.” Finally, you looked to Oikawa and put your hands in your pockets.

“Where do we go?” Oikawa looked around before drawing a small pattern in the air.

“We’ll take a portal to the woods. Once we’re beyond that, you can lead us.” You frowned and looked at the man.

“Wait— what?” You asked in a flabbergasted way. “How am I going to lead us if I just found out that I died today?”

“You’ll know where your body lays.” He promised as the small portal opened up with a spark. You peeked through, seeing familiar woods and as you peeked around the portal, there was nothing on the back but the view of your house.

“This is crazy.” You whispered in a shocked tone. Oikawa gave a soft chuckle and reached for your hand.

“Hold tight, don’t stop walking, and ignore any comments you might hear on the way through.” He said, pulling you into the portal with him that closed immediately afterwards. You blinked, seeing the woods around you but shivering as you thought of what you’d seen— atrocious monsters that looked slimy and what you thought to be the gates of hell. “It isn’t the most pleasant of walks for a newbie.” He said with a chuckle as you blinked hard despite not needing to. “Now, show me the way.” You swallowed hard, looking around the dense woods.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Don’t think,” he said, reaching around and gently cupping his hands over your eyes as he leaned in, his breath by your ear, surprisingly chilled in the typically still air of the woods. “Visualize. Feel your spirit get pulled back to your body’s resting place.” He said softly. “Feel the pull. Sense your body. Listen to the winds whisper where you lay.” You were confused and it showed in the way that you frowned which Oikawa felt against his large hand over your eyes. “Sense… your pain.” He said slowly. “It hurts to be so close and yet so far to your undiscovered body. Your spirit wants nothing more than to rest with your bones.” He said, and it was true as your fingertips tingled. “Now walk.” He said, giving you a slight nudge straight forward.

You turned, starting to slowly walk towards the right as the man followed behind you. You peeked back a few times to make sure that he was still close and you weren’t going to lose him, anxiously wandering deeper into the thick woods and almost wishing that you hadn’t said that you wanted to come here. You didn’t know what you were going to discover, but you were frightened of it. Of crows or other animals feasting on your flesh. The feeling in the woods was dreadful, but you weren’t sure if it was because your body was close or if it was because other bad things had happened here

Yet you couldn’t stop walking deeper into the woods before suddenly stopping. You blinked, looking to your left and gulping. Oikawa gave a small smile as he watched you and walked closer to you.

“Go on.” He said, giving you a gentle push. “You wanted this. Be whole again.” He pressed. You chewed on your lip and walked a few steps towards the left, not needing to go far before your breath hitched in your throat at the sight. You stumbled back a few steps, getting caught effortlessly by Oikawa who held you carefully as you tripped backwards over a branch in the ground. “There you are.” He said simply. “Is it everything you ever wanted?” He joked, feeling bad immediately. “Sorry, death makes me weird strangely enough.” He stood you straight, but even as he let you go, your hand held onto his forearm with a death grip.

“Oikawa…” You whispered.

“Yes?”

“I want to go home.”

It had been over an hour since the two of you had returned through a portal Oikawa brought up and led you home through. You laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling with a plain expression as you stopped blinking. It had been such a force of habit that you had never realized you didn’t need to anymore, much like eating, sleeping, and breathing. You felt stupid for not realizing, and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry with Oikawa from hiding the truth from you.

The man sat beside you in the little chair, silent until you were ready to speak again.

“Are you going to lift the spell so that my body can be found now?” You suddenly spoke in a soft tone.

“If you’d like me to.” You gave a nod that you weren’t sure if he saw or not.

“I want my body to be brought here.” You said just as quietly as before. “Tōru, if I was dead this whole time… how come they never sent another groundskeeper to take my place?” You asked the man who hesitated.

“Well… I sort of took care of the problem.” You frowned and sat up, looking at the man.

“What does that mean?”

“When they sent a new groundskeeper, I scrambled his memories and sent him to a new city where he thought he worked as a stockbroker. Don’t worry, I checked up on him once. He’s landed on his feet just fine.”

“Why did you go through all of this trouble?” You asked with a soft frown in confusion. “Putting up a spell to hide my body from the search teams, putting a spell on me and some old guy who the city thinks works and lives there, hid me from the missing posters— what did you stand to gain?” You asked, watching as the man refused to look at you and instead looked down at his hands.

“You were so happy, I… I didn’t want to see you fall into the depression I’ve seen so many friends go through when they died.” He whispered. “I thought it would be better to shield you from it, but… I see you’re taking it so well and I realize that I wasn’t doing it for you. I was selfish. I was doing it for me because I didn’t want to lose you.” You frowned deeper as you eyed the man.

“Why would you lose me?”

“Many wandering spirits find out their unfinished business and take care of the problem so they can leave this life and go to the next. I didn’t want you to move on and leave me behind. I can’t exactly go and see those who’ve moved beyond.” He explained. “Makki and Matsukawa chose to stay. I didn’t…” He sighed softly. “I didn’t trust that you would so I lied.”

“But I don’t understand.” You said. “What would it effect you for if I left in the first place?” Oikawa almost scoffed as he looked at you for the first time in a few minutes now.

“If you can’t tell, I’m pretty fond of you. Even when I met you as a human, I’ve liked you. There’s something about you, so… when I found your body, I didn’t want to lose you. I worried that if I told you the truth you’d be sad and want a way out of this life and I’d…”

“You’d what?”

“I’d lose someone that I care too much about.” Hesitantly, you moved, sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing a hand to Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Listen I’m… not mad, I just wanted to understand. We’re friends, I mean… we’re even something a little more if you want to look logically at what we do and what we are. I don’t want to move on, I want to experience this life even if it’s only in the graveyard.”

“Well… you don’t really have to stay here.” With a soft shake of your head, you spoke again.

“Whatever else you lied about, I don’t really care.” You said simply. “I mean, I don’t love that you lied to me, but… well, I shouldn’t, but I think I find it rather endearing that you kept me from this. Even if it was a bit selfish… I think I see where you were coming from.” Oikawa looked desperately at you, too worried that you were going to be angry with him for such a long time now. “It’s not like I’m in love with you or anything,” you said, not wanting to scare the man off with your original sentence, “But I don’t want to leave you either.”

“Well, I am.” He said without a sense of hesitancy.

“You are… what?”

“I am in love with you.” You hesitated, looking at the man with a slightly slacked jaw. “I didn’t want you to leave because I keep telling myself that I’m going to open up to you and tell you how much I like you, and tell you how much these past few years I’ve spent with you were for a demon like me, but… I keep chickening out. When I thought you would leave me forever, I took things too far. I was just… scared.” You leaned closer to the man and suddenly kissed him, earning a shocked sound from the man against your lips.

“If you loved me this whole time then you should have just told me instead of lying about it. Then I wouldn’t have had to lie about liking you too.” Oikawa suddenly moved, pushing you back on the bed and getting on top of you in a swift movement. You looked up at the man who quickly leaned down and smashed his lips against yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders quickly, keeping him close to you and grabbing tightly onto his jacket.

After what felt like forever, Oikawa finally pulled back from the kiss and yet you were left surprised by the fact that you weren’t out of breath. Now that you were completely aware that you were dead, you lost the urge to pant after kissing him even if you had always known you weren’t that out of breath.

“You really mean it? You like me back?”

“I do. And if you don’t believe me, well… I have an eternity with you to get you to.”

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