#and all but begging someone *cough—* to SEE HIM AS HE IS

[shotmrmiller]

dacryphilia baby!

simon's never really liked tears. people cry ugly, in his opinion. they get puffy-eyed, sclera bloodshot. their features twist ungracefully in their anguish, cheeks damp and ruddy. snot drips down their nose; clear, viscous. their mouths gape mid-sob, their shoulders tremble violently as they snort and gasp between fragmented words.

(never mind that the only time he's ever around a crying someone is when he stands in an interrogation room with a broken man who has crumbled under the pain he's inflicted, begging for mercy, coughing up anything and everything he needs to know.)

until he met you, with your bright eyes, soft lips, and gentle spirit.

tears suddenly make his cock throb. the first time he'd seen them, you'd been straddling his lap, wet heat struggling to stretch and accommodate to his size. your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you sank onto him, keening at feeling so full and he's barely halfway in. brave, little pet. sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from making too much noise. you'd looked a dream when your cunt finally swallowed him whole, thighs flush against his, looking up at him triumphantly with beads of moisture on your clumped lashes.

the second time, you'd been stressed from work, nerves raw and frayed, and patience nonexistent. nothing he couldn't fix with his head between your thighs. he plopped you on the kitchen counter, ignoring your snarling protests, and lapped up your slick with the thirst of a man lost in a desert. you came in minutes, hiccupping his name through sharp gasps of breath. you'd been spent after, body slumping with fatigue post torrent of cathartic release. he'd held your face in one hand, fingers dimpling your cheeks as he fucked your thighs, covering your cunt with his spend when a singular tear spilled from the corner of your eye.

and now. he clings to the idea of making you cry from overstimulation. he wants to see tears track down your dampened cheeks, yearns to taste salt on his tongue, aches to see your eyes glimmering under the warm glow of the bedroom lamp in the bedroom. the mere thought of your tears flowing down your face in rivulets leaves him momentarily unbalanced. he could burst in his pants untouched.

you're always so pliable beneath him, so giving when he wants to take. simon slides a finger through your wet folds, gently prodding your entrance, teasing. he knows exactly what to do to get you to the brink and keep you there— teetering that knife's sharpened edge of biting discomfort and searing ecstasy. "so close, m'so close," you garble as you try to buck your hips (he pins them down to the bed firmly, you will receive what he gives and nothing more) and he keeps at it until your throbbing pussy hurts from being held back from the edge. until you beg him with shimmering eyes to please, please, let you come. you'll be good, so good, just— please.

he gives it to you, satisfied with how delicious you look— all glossy-lipped and luminous eyes— swirling your swollen pearl under his thumb until you climax, pushing two fingers into your cunt so you can have something to clench around. your soul is barely coming back down from the heavens when he's pressing your thighs against your chest, knees almost to shoulders, feeling the air in your lungs being punched out of you when he bottoms out in one long stroke. the angle is on the verge of too much, feeling that deep pinch in your stomach you'd felt the very first time he rut his cock into you.

simon can see your eyes well with fresh tears, his throat drying at the sight. he starts to put his weight behind each thrust, hearing the squeaks that fall past your lips. you take what he gives you so well, pride prickling in the base of his skull. it tightens the coil that's spooling oh so ever tighter beneath his navel but it's not enough. he wants what he wants.

he weaves a hand down to your sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles on it until he feels your walls fluttering and squeeze him like a vicious vise. it rips the breath out of him, almost has him fucking his cum into you but he sharpens his focus— gritting his teeth to keep from ending the fun. his iron will has never been so useful. you're wriggling beneath him now as if trying to get away from him (as if you could) because he keeps touching your clit. your legs are shaking, your mewls are loud enough to cause a ringing in his ears but he quickly gets you to another orgasm. you're a sobbing mess now; hiccups, gasps, high-pitched squeals.

and tears. full-blown tears spill, roll down your pretty face, sticking strands of your hair to cheeks. he wants to see this forever. wants it etched behind his eyelids, wants it inked on his skin (what a thought. he just might, no one has to know.)

he relents, abandoning your over-sensitized clit to grab at your fleshy hips to piston into you until he comes with a groan (and salt on his lips)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Congratulations on your milestone! If you are still doing this, can I request a jukebox roulette for Rex with a F! Reader or OC, with the song:

I'm so excited to see what you do with this!

Thank you so much @callsign-denmark !

You are such a sweetheart.

I listened to this song, and then the album and I just love this band! Thank you for introducing them to me!

Alright, so I hope you love my interpretation of this, it might not be what you were hoping for, but I tried.

Love oo

Glowing In The Dark

Warnings: Severe injury, tears, begging, pleading, declarations of love, realities of war, passing out from exhaustion, refusing to leave, surgery, symbiotic relationship, angst, hurt/comfort. I think that's it. If I miss anything please let me know.

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

The bruises, cuts, and pain that radiated on your face and body, was too much for Rex. He held your hand as you waited for a medic. The fighting had been especially brutal, and the med tent was inundated with casualties, some far worse than yours.  

Tears pricked his eyes as you lay there moaning in pain.

“You’re alright, cyar’ika. You’re going to be alright. Just hang in there. Please.”

He pressed a subtle kiss to the back of your hand, not that he really needed to be subtle, every single person part of the 501st knew you two were together. It was the worst kept secret, and frankly neither of you cared. 

He certainly didn’t, when you showed up in his life you were a light in the darkness. 

Not just figuratively, but also quite literally. You’d fallen into a bioluminescent pond and when you came upon Rex and General Skywalker, with your own elite Commando unit, he thought you were a glowing angel in the dark. 

It was thanks to your ethereal appearance, he survived that mission. The other side, thought you were a ghost, and scared them into dropping their weapons. 

You coughed, and groaned in pain, he squeezed your hand, “Cyar’ika, hang in there. Just think about what we’re going to do next shore leave. You promised me to take me… what was that again, oh right window shopping. Whatever that is. You said we’d spend the day together, relaxing and enjoying the day. So… you need to hold on so we can do that together.”

The warm liquid filling his eyes was getting to be too much, as he subtly brushed them away. 

“Remember the last time we were on Trip Zip, you convinced me to go to a poetry reading. I know I grumbled all night about it, but I’ll gladly suffer through another night of that if it means I get to sit beside you, holding your hand, feeling your body pressed against mine. So please hold on.”

There was a tear that slid down your cheek, as the pain was becoming unbearable. 

“MEDIC!” Rex called again, hoping someone was free. Where was Kix when he needed him!

“Rex…” you softly whispered.

He leaned in closer, “What is it, cyar’ika?”

“I … I …” you coughed again, “ I love … you.”

“I love you, too, but right now save your strength. Just stay awake for me, okay?”

Your head moved slowly, an almost imperceptible nod. 

“Do you remember our first night together? How hard you held on to me, never wanting to let me go? That’s how hard I need you to fight right now. I need you to keep awake, to stay here with me. Please, you’re my light in the dark. I can’t lose you.”

The usually stoic voice trembled out of his mouth. He didn’t want to lose it, he needed to stay strong for you.

With each passing minute and second, he felt his heart screaming more and more for you, begging for you to not leave him. To stay by his side, to always stay. 

“Baby …” his voice was barely above a whisper, the only person who could hear him was you, “don’t leave me. Please. I’ve learned to bear the loss of so many of my brothers, I’ve tried to be strong, to not let it get to me, but … please.” He pressed his forehead against your hand, “Please, I won’t make it if you leave me too.”

His body slowly moved closer, kneeling beside the stretcher you were on, “I’ve learned to bear their passing, the responsibility of their loss, of what it means to be Captain, and … I promise, I’ll bear everything else. I’ll do everything and anything, just please … please stay.”

Tears streamed down his cheek as he felt the grip that had been so strong moments slowly start to wane. 

“MEDIC!” He shouted again, praying this time that one of the medics were free. 

“Vod?” Kix ran over to the tent the minute he heard Rex’s voice, he’d just made it back from the front but as soon as he saw your face, the way your body slowly started to relax, he knew there was no time. 

Rex turned to look at his vod, tears trickling down his face as he clenched your hand against his chest, “Vod, I … I can’t see her glow… where’s her glow?”

“MEDIC TEAM ON ME!”

Within an instant you were lifted away from Rex and taken behind the surgical screen, Rex stayed kneeling on the ground in that very spot, afraid to move, afraid that if he did he’d lose his connection to you. 

Despite everyone trying to coax him to a seat, to rest, to get some food, he refused. He simply waited kneeling in that spot, his eyes closed the entire time you were in surgery.  It was almost six hours later when Kix and his team brought you back to him. You looked better, there was a slight glow to your skin. Despite the fact it had almost been a year since you fell into that bioluminescent pool, you still glowed in the dark. 

“Don’t worry she’ll be alright,” Kix pressed his hand against Rex’s shoulder, “took out quite a bit of shrapnel, fixed a few broken bones, and a perforated bowel, but she’ll be alright. Once we get them onboard the Resolute, she’ll be going straight into a bacta tank.”

Rex crumpled against the ground as soon as he knew you were safe, he was beyond exhausted from the stress and anxiety of almost losing you. Kix, simply smirked, shaking his head as they arranged for him to have a cot right beside you.

Main Master List   | Star Wars Jukebox Roulette |   AO3 Link

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal @crosshair-is-the-superior-clone @totallyunidentified @griffedeloup @leotatombs @leotawrites

#575 follower celebration! #Jukebox Roulette #Love oo #I hope you guys have fun with this #Follower Celebration #Star Wars Fic Roulette #Fic Roulette #star wars the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #star wars #starwars #the clone wars #the Mandalorian #Andor #Book of Boba Fett #original trilogy #Obi-wan #Ahsoka #The Bad Batch #star wars prequels #Didn't expect to do another follower celebration so soon #pick your character #tell me your favourite song #clone wars rex #clone captain rex #rex clone wars #captain rex #rex #rex x f!reader #captain rex x female reader

[mommalosthermind]

Kaeya thoughts part a lot: This is stream of consciousness, not really thought out at all, but I’m making it the tag’s problem anyway because I Can. So. Apologies in advance, this is messy and ridiculous.

Side effect of writing fic about characters with very inconsistent canon personalities, possibly, but I find myself thinking about the choice to have Kaeya’s constellation be the peacock. Especially as I’ve discovered the way I tend to write him is… specific.

From what little I know of birds, (which is very little. I grew up in a kennel, y’all, not a bird run, I can talk Great Danes for days, but I know jack shit about birds besides Pretty and Loud) the eyespots are meant for attracting a mate. This isn’t necessarily relevent, but I do tend to always have shipper lenses on, so it is also…not not-relevant? …moving on.

My silly rabbit hole is more about symbols.

Peacocks are stunning. Bright colors, lots of contrast, a fan of glorious feathers much larger than their bodies, utterly covered in false eyes. They’re meant to be flashy and attention-getting.

But it’s not actually the peacock you’re looking at, is it?

The tail, those false eyes, that’s what you’re looking at when you marvel at a peacock. Not the bird itself. I mean, sure, you might drop your eyes for a moment and coo over the brilliant sapphire feathers on the body, the little fluffy bits around the head, maybe the delicate curve of their neck, or just how tiny their head seems in comparison. But it’s the damn tail that you’re centered on, that you’re supposed to be staring at.

I know it’s hardly revolutionary, but every now and then I just have to sit with the realization that this is exactly what Kaeya, what little we’ve been given, is.

He’s beautiful, he’s bright, he’s carefully cultivated his appearance to be eye-catching. He seems to modify his behaviors and even his voice to keep whoever’s attention he’s after, and then he shifts that attention to exactly where he wants it.

Kaeya as he presents himself is his own tail, his own false, misleading eye. And since you’re looking there, you’re not looking at the smaller parts of him that are Real Kaeya. You’re missing his actual goals or intentions.

Add in the fact that he’s got an eye-patch, the possibility of an otherworldly eye hidden beneath it, add in the various godly Oculus— the god’s eyes scattered throughout Teyvat, the way the visions themselves are also sometimes referred to as gods’ eyes, and it just makes it a little more interesting to me that Kaeya’s ‘destiny’ is represented by an animal known for being covered in gorgeous, attention funneling fake eyes.

Then, of course, there’s other things, like how supposedly peacocks are surprisingly delicate needy idiots, and well. How could he have ever been anything else?

In all fifty billion of my wips, I can’t seem to escape the fact that Kaeya is both the lure and the trap. He’s turned himself into the target, the siren’s call, but in such a way where *his* target never notices the teeth they’ve walked right into. How could they? They’re too busy being lost in beautiful blue eyes that aren’t there.

But, Archons, he wishes someone would find the real one. Just once, and maybe, if he plays his cards right, they’ll keep him close.

#kaeya #genshin impact #momma talks #random thoughts I had because tumblr showed me a stunning shot of a peacock and my brain is awful #I feel like I need to apologize to Ked for posting about peacocks when I know jack about peacocks #I Do Apologize to peacocks for any untentional slander youre lovely #Im just stuck on the part where kaeya is ENTIRELY standing in the middle of mond #and all but begging someone *cough—* to SEE HIM AS HE IS #while doing every fucking thing he can to make sure no one ever sees anything he hasn’t already approved #which is nothing #i have feelings and I should be writing and this is entirely hoyo’s fault for their weird inconsistency with personality #THE MAN WANTS YOU TO LOOK #but then HE WEARS ARMOR AND SPIKES to make SURE you won’t get too close #wont be tempted to reach out and realize he’s a mirage #oh god imma write an essay in the tags i need to go back to my WIP and pour this out there instead the fuck is wrong with me #im. so sorry lmao

[bratzforchris]

Make It Better

Summary: Matt's home sick and bored. What happens when you walk in on him doing pushups instead of resting?

Pairing: Matt x feminine reader

Warnings: Fluffy smut, making out while sick, vanilla sex, cowgirl, handjob, p in v, needy/pouty bottom!Matt (mostly just a short/sweet/silly smut<3)

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: There's something about Matt in this video that is just so! Fuckable! In all seriousness though, this is fiction. Maybe don't go around fucking people with COVID...Enjoy!!!

You sighed as you stirred the pot of chicken noodle soup that was currently simmering on the stove. Both Matt and Nick were home sick with COVID, and by extension, so were you and Chris. Despite knowing that you should be making Matt quarantine, you hadn’t done very well with being apart from your boy. Not only did your heart long to care for him, but Matt was a bit…whiny when he was sick. You found it rather endearing, the way he would whine and grab for things, and the way he would absolutely beg you to lay with him and cuddle him until he felt better. He claimed that the snuggles and you scratching his scalp softly with your acrylic nails was better than any amount of Dayquil. 

Just because Matt was your boyfriend wouldn’t stop you from caring for the other two triplets, though. You quickly turned off the stove and divided the soup into three bowls, placing them on a tray and starting the trek throughout the house to deliver the food to your boys. Your first stop was Chris’ room in the basement. You felt rather bad for the youngest triplet; he had never liked sleeping or even being alone, and now he was basically holed up in his room all by himself for days. 

“Knock knock!” You said cheerfully, announcing your arrival at his bedroom door. 

Chris opened his door a few moments later, looking bleary-eyed with messy hair. “Y/N?”

“I brought soup!” You explained happily. 

“I’m not the sick one,” Chris chuckled. “But thank you.”

You and Chris continued to chat for a few moments, with you making sure you kept your distance since you had been around Matt, before you spoke. “Well, I guess I should go finish playing DoorDash and make sure the toddler is alright.”

“The toddler?”

“Someone's rather whiny when he’s sick.” You snorted. 

Chris laughed as well, knowing exactly who you were referencing. After bidding the youngest triplet goodbye, you picked up your tray and headed to Nick’s room. Seeing as how the oldest was still contagious, you shot him a quick text to let him know that his food was outside. Finally, you made your way to your and Matt’s shared room with one bowl of soup left. Pushing open the door, you were met with a sight that you were not expecting at all. Matt was on the ground doing push ups, still in pajamas and vlogging the whole thing. 

“Matt!” you exclaimed, setting his bowl down on his desk. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I’m bored,” Your boy whined, sitting up and leaning against the wall. “And I need physical activity.”

“Baby, you’re sick. You need to be resting.” You said, rolling your eyes playfully and offering him your hand to stand up. 

“I took less than 100 steps yesterday. That’s sickening–” Matt groaned, being cut off by a barking cough as you helped him lay down once more. 

You pulled your boyfriend into your chest as you laid down beside him, running your nails through his fluffy, brown hair. Matt let out a content little sigh, curling into your chest and sniffling. He was rather feverish, but he was already doing loads better than he had been yesterday. At this point, he was mostly just bored and eager to do something other than watch movies, play Fortnite, and sleep, despite his pounding headache. 

You looked down at the boy resting on your chest as Matt snuck his hand between your thighs. “What are you doing?” You asked, raising a brow. 

“Nothing,” Matt said with faux innocence, blinking his glassy, blue eyes at you. “Jus’ getting comfy.”

“You need your hand between my thighs to be comfortable?”

“Mhm.” 

You rolled your eyes, pressing a kiss to the brunette’s head. “You know you’re not a good liar, sweetheart.”

Matt groaned softly, scooting his hips closer to your own as he began to rub soft circles over the fabric that covered your pussy. “‘M bored and I need that physical activity I mentioned earlier.” 

“You’re also sick. When was the last time you brushed your teeth and showered?”

Matt huffed cutely, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling with his arms crossed. “You’re being mean.”

Before he could speak again, you turned and pressed a kiss to Matt’s plump, pink lips. The boy moaned softly into the kiss, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth, making out with him as you moved yourself to straddle his waist. 

“You’re gonna get sick.” Matt whined softly, making no move to push you off. 

“I don’t care.” You replied in a cliché manner, a dopey smile on your face as you pulled back to look at him. 

Matt let out a soft grunt, rutting his hips up to meet your own. “I need you,” he whimpered, already arching his back against the pillows even though you hadn’t really done anything. “Gonna make me feel better.”

“You’re so whiny when you’re sick.” You tsked, running your hands along the soft skin of his abdomen to pull his white pajama shirt up and over his head.

“I am not.” he sniffled, voice gravelly from the congestion. 

“Are so.” You hummed back teasingly, leaving soft kisses on his warm tummy. 

You could feel Matt’s cock hardening beneath you, making him blush and whine as he tugged at your leggings.You pressed soft kisses to the brunette’s chest and stomach as you tugged his pajama bottoms off, smirking at the way he was already hard for you, pretty pink tip glistening with precum. Matt moaned softly as he blushed harder, letting out little coughs and sniffles as he futilely attempted to cover himself. 

“Ah ah,” You chuckled, batting his hands away. “What happened to all that ‘I need physical activity’ from earlier?” You said, pulling off your shirt and bra. 

“You’re a bully.” Matt grumbled, hissing from the combination of the way you began to stroke his cock and the sight of your now bare tits bouncing in his face as you got yourself worked up on his thigh.  

You broke the connection for a moment to slide off your leggings and already soaked panties. You continued to palm your boyfriend's cock, leaving him whimpering and moaning as you reached into the nightstand and retrieved a condom. 

“Are you sure you feel okay? We don’t have to.” You assured Matt, brushing some of the messy hair off of his forehead as he sneezed.

“I want to. It’ll make me feel better.” Matt pouted, thrusting his dick into your hand, desperate to chase his orgasm. 

“So needy.” You shook your head with a laugh, ripping open the condom and replacing your hand with the rubber on his throbbing cock. 

Your boyfriend hissed as you slid onto him, the feeling of your cunt clenching against him making him whimper. You began to ride Matt slowly, allowing his aching, feverish joints to get used to the feeling of you being on top. It was clear that illness or not, the brunette was beyond needy. He loved the feeling of you being in charge, telling him what to do and calling him a pretty boy. He was, by definition, your pillow princess, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“I thought this was supposed to be physical activity for you.” You panted with a small giggle as you began to speed up your rhythm. 

Matt had a lazy, sleepy smile on his face as you rode him, every now and then letting out little whimpers and moans. “My heart rate elevates every time I look at you.” he smiled cheesily and then hissed when you hit a particularly good angle, brown, feathery curls fanning out against the silken pillow cases as he arched his back. 

Your lower stomach began to clench with the need to orgasm at your boyfriend's sensual noises. The added gravel to his voice from the sickness was just turning you on more, making you grip Matt’s shoulders shakily. 

“I’m…gonna cum.” You groaned, your pussy clenching as Matt whimpered again. 

Matt nodded, letting out loud, sexual noises as you rode him harder than you had previously. “Want you to cum with me.” he pouted, looking up at you through his lashes. 

You two really didn’t have a chance to say anything else as both of your climaxes overtook you. In spite of his incredibly sore throat, Matt was practically screaming your name as your orgasm clenched against his dick, making him fill the condom quickly. By the time you had regained your senses, your boyfriend had softened inside of you. You slid off of Matt easily, helping him pull the condom off and dispose of it in the trash can beside the bed. 

“Was that enough physical activity for you?” You asked with a sly chuckle, kissing his cheek softly. 

Matt nodded sleepily, coughing into his arm roughly. “I feel so much better now.” he said with a watery grin. 

“Do you?” You asked skeptically. 

“...well no, but now I’m content and no longer bored.” the brunette informed you matter-of-factly, his bratty, subby side still showing despite the fact that you were no longer fucking. 

“So you aren’t going to complain about sleeping and taking medicine, right?” You murmured, grabbing a pack of baby wipes off the nightstand and wiping both yourself and Matt down. 

“Medicine tastes like ass and I’ve slept so much in the past two days.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, pulling the comforter over the both of you until you shot up, just now remembering the bowl on Matt’s desk. “Fuck. Your soup’s gone cold.”

“You bought me soup?” Matt cocked his head and blew his nose, unaware that you had ‘left’ the house. 

“I made it. I made you homemade chicken noodle soup and forgot about it because you jumped my bones.” You joked. 

“You didn’t stop me,” Matt pointed out, another chesty cough escaping his mouth. “But if the soup’s already cold…round two?”

“Matthew.”

tags ♡:  @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @herxysc-blog @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @spencereidenthusiast @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniiieee07 @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @patscorner @julesgrl @0strawberrysorbet0 @strombolilovr @matt444nixi @remussbitch @devthepoet1221 @mattyblover07 @loisnotaa @mollyquinnxoxo @graysturns @pepsicolapussy333 @ginswife @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @m00n-0n-paws @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @raysmayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @billsslutt @aemrsy

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x y/n #matt sturniolo edit #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo imagine #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagines #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

[ddejavvu]

What about spencer with a reader who is normally so independent and does everything for herself but she’s so soft for spencer and lets him dote on her and take care of her and the team is like :o bc they can’t believe she is letting someone do things for her

"I'm not a tyrant," Spencer's voice is inexhaustibly patient, and his fingers are slightly awkward as he holds them around his phone, angling it awkwardly so that you can see his upper half on face-time while he sits at his desk, "I just want you to take your medicine so that you can get better."

"I am better," You insist, your voice a far cry from its usual drawl. It's more ragged and weak, and you definitely have a stuffy nose, which indicates how untruthful your words are. Everyone knows it, most of the bullpen can hear your insistent griping, and they're beginning to feel bad for Spencer. They can't imagine how he'd gotten you to stay home today, but they're shooting each other knowing grins each time you push back against his gentle insistence.

"No, angel, you're not." Spencer croons, "You're on the mend, but you're not recovered yet. And you'll get worse if you don't take your meds. I put them on the nightstand for you, and some water. All you have to do is take them, and go back to sleep."

"I don't want to sleep!" You insist, and it's a whine- a whine! Emily's mouth splits in an incredulous grin, and a laugh threatens to tremble Derek's broad shoulders at how juvenile your attempts at protest have become. They're used to your biting words, your forceful demeanor, your inability to surrender any control, but Spencer's got you tucked into the covers begging for a kiss on the forehead.

"I've been sleeping all day, and I slept all day yesterday, and the day before that. I'm tired of sleeping. Just let me fill out some paperwork! Anything, Spence, please."

He chews on the inside of his cheek, ignoring the way that JJ giggles suspiciously with Penelope, who's leaning against the side of her desk, drawn out of her office for the spectacle.

"You can read," He relents, "And you can watch tv but only if you do it on your computer with the night light setting turned on," He narrows his eyes, taking on your rather rough persona to ensure that his orders are obeyed, "Promise?"

"Promise," You rasp, and the team can hear the smile in your voice, "Thanks, Spencer."

"Use the night light setting," He warns instead of accepting your thanks, "I'll check later to see if it's turned on!"

"Okay!" You laugh, and Spencer winces lightly as the sound morphs into a thick cough, "Okay, I'll- ah, I'll see you later, baby."

"See you later," He concedes with a fond smile, waving in addition to his verbal goodbyes, "Love you."

"Love you too," You promise, then end the call. Spencer feels the weight of everyone else's stares on him as he sets his seldom-used phone down and resumes working, refusing to acknowledge them unless they prod at him first.

"Good job, Spence," JJ congratulates, "I didn't think she'd ever take a sick day."

"I know," Emily gushes with bright eyes and a wild smile, "If I tried to tuck her in she'd probably bite me."

"Well, that's 'cause you don't have Pretty Boy's charm," Derek cracks, though the smile that he flashes Prentiss is reassurance that he's teasing Spencer more than he's teasing her, "Congrats on wearing the pants today, Reid. Enjoy it while it lasts, 'cause as soon as she's out of bed, she's taking the wheel again."

Spencer takes great pleasure in levelling Derek with a meaningful, "Shut up," because he's more than happy to be your passenger princess any day.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

[thefantasyden]

Stray Kids reaction to you grabbing their dick (subtly) around people

Kind of exhibitionist themes. NSFW of course. Nothing too kinky.

Chris:

Ohhhh boy, he's so turned on, but he's also embarrassed because of how much it turns him on. Chris loves your confidence and boldness above all else, so he can't help but feel a little pride when your hands reach behind you to rest against his dick. He really did have pure intensions when he came up behind you for a hug while you were talking to people but his thoughts have definitely turned sinful and he'd be tugging you closer to him so that he could press his dick against your ass all under the guise of being a cute, clingy boyfriend. He'd probably be throbbing against you if someone commented on how cute you two were or how sweet he was to you because he fully intends to have you begging him for mercy when he finally gets you alone. I genuinely just think he would be SO turned on my any hidden dirty displays from you in public where he was the only one who could know what's happening. Call it subtle exhibitionism if you will, but he'd be hard as hell and whispering his dirty thoughts in your ear every time.

"If you want me to bend your pretty ass over the couch when we get home, you coulda just asked me."

Lee Know:

Grins like the Cheshire Cat. He would be SO proud. It's not exactly a secret that you're his personal slut but he just lives for the affirmation of you not being able to keep your needy hands off him. If you're hanging out with the older members when it happens and you subtly slid your hand from his thigh to his dick, he would immediately call you out on it to embarrass you because he knows you'd like it. He's only turned on further when you sass him in response, and he probably wouldn't wait long to be tugging you to a place where he could have you all to himself. He's a bit of an exhibitionist but I think he'd also be possessive, so prepare for him to be taunting you before he lets you touch him further. He'd make you tell him all about how you just couldn't keep your hands to yourself because you're always needy for him. He treats you so so well when he finally lets you have him, and he'd be praising you for being his desperate angel. To him, it would evolve be another form of intimacy unique to you, and it probably becomes a normal habit after a while for you to have your hand on his dick when you're just hanging out.

"Aw, look, my baby just can't keep their hands off me, huh? You're always so desperate."

Changbin:

He wouldn't even realise it was weird at first because you're always groping him, and he does the exact same to you. He's always gripping your ass or your thighs when you're in reach of him, so you gripping his dick when you were sitting at dinner wouldn't register for him until he feels your hand move up his length and when that happens, he's coughing to try and cover up his moan because holy hell is it hot in this place. He's encouraging it for sure, and I think he'd actually like it if one of the other members caught you. It'd probably be Jisung because he's your partner in chaos and he'd see your hand slipping under a blanket when you were relaxing with them, immediately asking if you two ever thought about anything else with a smirk and Changbin would just let out the silliest, excited laugh in response. He loves your hands on him, but he also always manages to get a giggle out of you in most sexual scenarios (which gets him even more riled up because he l o v e s hearing you laugh.)

"Have you SEEN my baby? You're lucky I'm controlling myself right now like a civilised man."

Hyunjin:

He'd be turned on and a little irritated because it almost always happens when you're at an event that you can't leave. You were always flirty with him, and that was perfectly normal and acceptable with people around, but you hugging him and sliding your hand down to grope at his already half hard length was something he really could not find an appropriate reaction to. His expression would almost give it away if he hadn't been whispering a warning to you. Never mind that having you with him and having the two of you being praised for looking so good together while he showed you off already had him counting the seconds until he could get his hands on you. His behaviour wouldn't change throughout the night, but his grip on you would be tighter, and he'd be quieter than usual. You would almost believe he was upset with you if it wasn't for the anamoured smile he couldn't stop whenever you were talking to someone. The second you're in a private spot, he's scolding you for making him feel so out of control.

"I really need you to behave until we get back to the room and I can have you whining under me, ok?"

Jisung:

Confused and needy. Hell, he hardly has time to be confused because they way his body reacts so strongly to you has him pleading in your ear for you to help him relieve a little pressure, your cupped hand resting over his dick after you came to bring him coffee in the studio. He's just glad Chris and Changbin are focused on what they're doing and can't spare any attention to his whining when he pulls you on to his lap so he can hide his face in your hair as he pants against your neck. He's just so sensitive to your touch, and he can't help it. Poor boy is trying so hard not to grip your thighs too hard or fidget too much. Usually, when he's desperate like that, he'd be so vocal, but that's impossible when the other two are so close by. He'd survive MAYBE 10 minutes TOPS of you sitting in his lap before he's trying to convince the boys that he feels sick (which they don't buy, but they don't feel like dealing with him) and he's dragging you back to the door. I think he's just so in love with you that he wants to have you in any way he can at all times.

"Shit... That feels so good baby. No no, please don't stop. I just want a little more."

Felix:

Depending on the day, I think he'd either be kind of cocky and into it, or he'd be bright red (but still into it!). Felix strikes me as someone who has a high sex drive when he feels a deep connection with someone and you just so happened to tend to his needs so well that he's ready to go whenever you show interest. You'd be sitting in the car coming home from something, and your hand would carefully drop to his lap, fingers barely stroking over his dick but he's getting hard regardless. He loves your light, ticklish touches, and his thoughts are spiralling to how they feel on his bare skin and how similar it feels when you trail kisses down his chest and, well, he needs you. He covers your hand with his and presses it down so he gets a little bit of relief but is also stopping you from torturing him any further. Once you're home, he'd playfully call you dirty between kisses and it would entertwine with 'I love you's and whispers of how beautiful you are and how badly he needs to have you touch him again. Lots of messy kisses and giggles before you even make it to the bed.

"You don't even know how hard that was! How am I supposed to act normal when you've got that innocent face and you're touching me like that?"

Seungmin:

I don't care if you're team Dom Minnie or Sub Minnie, I think he'd be FLUSTERED. Seung doesn't strike me as an exhibitionist at all, and he'd react so instantaneously to your touch that it has him aggressively flushed and confused. He'd take a second to respond when he first felt your hand on him, but he'd push it away once it registers, scowling and whisper-yelling that you can't do that when people are around! He doesn't mean to sound harsh, he's just so embarrassed (and maybe also really turned on) that the words come out more aggressively than he intended. Once he's calmed down, though, he'd scoot closer to you and interlock your fingers, gently kissing your cheek and apologising for the way his scolding came out. He loves that you want him, he just needs it to be at a time when he can respond freely. Don't worry though, because he'll make it up to you when you're alone. He'd be kneeling between your legs as quickly as possible, kisses littering your thighs as his hands pushed them apart.

"Let me make show you how much I need you, ok? I wanna taste you."

I.N

Just like Lixxie, he depends on the day. If it's a really public setting, he's embarrassed and moving away from you BUT if it's a small group with maybe one or two of the other members, he's pulling you closer to him and bucking his hips against your hand, encouraging you to continue. On rare occasions like movie nights where you're hidden under fluffy blankets, he wants you to jerk him off. He's a young man, he has a lot of dirty thoughts. It's definitely not his fault! He'd taunt you with whispers of how good he'll make you feel later and how hard he is, all for you and god, when he finally feels your hand wrap around him properly, he has to squeeze his eyes shut and pray that nobody notices his panting or the way he seemingly can't get comfortable all of a sudden. He doesn't like to finish like that, though, and he doesn't think about what anyone says when he drags you to his room. All he cares about is getting his lips on yours, hands groping at whatever he touches first as he cages you against his mattress.

"I know you love seeing me like this. I'm so hard for you. I wanna fuck you so fucking bad."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #felix smut #minho smut #chan smut #chris bang smut #hyunjin smut #han smut #jisung smut #seungmin smut #i.n smut #jeongin smut #thefantasyden

[ceilidho]

prompt: Ghost only takes you half-seriously when you say you want to see other people. He has just the man in mind. tags: dubcon; threesome; anal (2.5k)

-

He doesn’t so much as twitch when you stumble over your words in an effort to get it out.

“I don’t think this is working,” you say, hands clenched into trembling fists at your sides. “I think we should start seeing other people.”

The only bit of it that Ghost really pays attention to is the fact that you decided to make this little announcement while he’s in the middle of taking apart and cleaning his gun at the kitchen table. His little spitfire girl. Not a lick of fear in you, just a fistful of attitude and snark. The attitude’s ensconced now in your trepidation, a bit smothered under it, nervousness a clear trill in your voice, making it warble, but it shows itself in the downward slant of your brows. Delightful girl.

“That right?” he grunts, jamming the lubricated cotton mop into the bore of the gun. You flinch at the sudden movement, nervous eyes trained on his hands. Ghost makes a note to apologize with his mouth later on.

“Yes,” you croak, then cough to clear your throat. “I’ve, um…I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I think it’ll be better for—for both of us. It’s just…it’s not working out.”

The cigarette dangling from between his lips stinks up the room. Poor girl, he thinks pityingly when you scrunch up your nose and eye it resentfully. Always trying to get him to quit. It’s just shit luck for you that he’s never been good at quitting things, at letting anything go. Everything he’s ever lived through clings to his skin like smoke. 

He ashes it out in the little turquoise ceramic pot on the table, a trinket he’d once picked up in Tala'a Kebira years ago while in Morocco on some other business. You look marginally less irked with the cig put out, but that just means that more of his attention can focus squarely on you, which leaves you a bit wide-eyed under his stare.

“For a while, hm?” Ghost asks. It comes out teasingly, if only to him. The lilt in his voice is a tricky one to catch.

You nod; the note must have slipped through your hands like smoke. “There’s a girl I found online that’s studying abroad right now. Offered to sublet me her room while I look for a place. I thought maybe, um…maybe tomorrow I’d go.”

“Don’t worry about all of that,” he says, already dismissing the conversation from his mind. “Won’t be back for another week anyway—no reason for you to run off if I’m not even around.”

“Oh.” You shift from side to side, thinking it over. “I guess. How long will you be gone?”

“A week. Two weeks tops.” Plenty of time for him to sort out this mess. Figure out what exactly caused you to get all jumpy and eager to try out other people. 

He smiles internally. Little bird probably just can’t stand how often he’s away, poor thing. It’d be enough to make any girl upset—the constant leaves of absence, gone months without being able to send word, showing up bruised and bloody on the doorstep only to have you fall to pieces trying to put him back together. 

There are options though. He’s not opposed to adding someone new either—in fact, he has just the man in mind. 

Ghost has been holding Johnny back because he always thought you preferred to just be with one man (and Christ, the whining he’d had to deal with from Johnny, always begging to see you or begging Ghost for even just your panties, anything at all because he was so desperate and Ghost wouldn’t let him have you), but now?

Now there’s no reason to hold Johnny by the collar when he comes over for dinner. Now there’s no reason to kick Johnny from under the table when he leans just a bit too close to you when you’re sitting down to eat, eyes locked on the glimpse of your chest peeking out of your shirt and damn near drooling on it. Now there’s no reason to listen to Johnny jack himself off to the point of tears while trying to get some shut eye on a mission, the only crumpled up photo that Ghost had ever allowed him to take cupped close to his face.

He really pitied the poor mutt before, no pretty girl at home, his only crush being his superior’s girl. But Ghost is magnanimous—he’s a generous man. If you want to see other people, he has the perfect puppy for you to play with.

When you smile, still a bit unsure, he has to smother a grin. “Okay. I’ll stay ‘till then and look.”

The look Johnny gives him when he brings it up is equal parts disbelief and fevered need. “Say that again, Lt?”

“You’re coming over after we wrap this shit up. Bird’s been asking about a third.”

He chokes, scrambling to his feet. The temporary base is damp, always on the frigid side of things so Johnny’s still in uniform for the most part, the fabric rustling in his haste to get up off his bed. It’s not a place either of them are eager to spend more time in than absolutely necessary. The lack of space means that the two of them are made to bunk together as always, sharing a room with two cots and a small en suite, the tub still wet from Ghost’s shower.

“Christ, yer serious? No joke, sir?”

Johnny pushes his head back into Ghost’s hand when Ghost reels him by the hair, dropping a firm close-mouthed kiss onto the centre of his forehead through the fabric of the mask. “She was clear about it. Why? Gettin’ cold feet on me now?”

“No, sir,” Johnny protests, shaking his head as much as he can in Ghost’s grip, eyes shimmering a bit. “I can bring over a bottle o’ wine if ye like. Somethin’ fancy to set the mood.”

Their closeness is not unusual; Johnny’s always been a tactile man, favouring touch over words. One of their small similarities; their shared modes of existing in the world. There’s a line in the sand where you’re concerned that Ghost has been clear on, but he’s used to always having a hand somewhere on Soap, keeping him close. Now, he gets to keep him even closer. 

His bird really has the best ideas. 

Ghost snorts, knocks their heads together. “Just bring yourself, pup.”

He ignores the way Johnny’s breath hitches, the way he hurries into the bathroom and slams the door behind him the second Ghost lets go. The frantic eager sounds from behind the door when the water runs, only muffling the loudest of his groans. He probably had his dick choked in his fist the second the door shut, a thick nut swirling down the drain within the first five minutes. 

They ship out the next morning, exhausted from the week’s work. No amount of sleep out in the field is ever good enough, especially not in cots barely built to accommodate men of their size. Especially not Ghost. Johnny dozes off on his shoulder in the plane, sinking into a deep sleep to compensate for the hours spent tossing and turning the night before. Ghost uses the flight to get a headstart on his paperwork, enough so that he’s not held up on base when they land back home. 

He doesn’t give you a heads up that he’s home earlier than planned; no need to give you enough time to pack a bag and schlep it over to that place you’d found. It’s better for everyone if you’re caught a bit off guard, just a little frazzled. Ghost’s not entirely unsympathetic—he knows you’ll overthink things if he gives you any time to yourself. 

It’s endearing the way you gape up at him, eyes flitting between him and Johnny, when he finally makes it home. For the few times that Johnny’s been over, it’s not an everyday thing; his visits are always planned and strictly timed, Ghost monitoring him to make sure he doesn’t overstep his bounds. Seeing him with Ghost in your foyer must be strange, must put you on edge. 

“Simon, you didn’t tell me you were—” you start and then pause, swallowing. You look over his shoulder at Johnny, smile stiff, uncomfortable. “Hi Johnny.” 

You’re always a good girl, not wanting to argue in front of company. 

“Heel,” Ghost says, steel in his voice when Johnny almost lurches from his side. The other man glances over at him with wild eyes, almost on the brink of disobeying, but he holds in the end and stays put. Ghost’s eyes soften when he looks back at you. “Have a nice week, pet?”

“Yes—sorry, I’m glad you’re home safe,” you say, flustered, taking his back from him to drop in the usual place in the hall. “I, um—” again, you eye Johnny nervously, unsure of how much you can say in front of him, “—I found a place…for…you know.” 

“‘Course,” Ghost agrees, shucking his boots at the door and giving Johnny a shake by his coat until he does the same. “Missed you too, pet. C’mere.” 

He muffles your protests with his mouth when he stalks forward and pulls you in for a wet kiss, rolling the mask up and off at the same time. You’re a bit stiff in his arms until he slips you some tongue and the resistance leaks out of you, helpless the second he gets his hands on you. Your eyes are still a bit misty when he pulls away, fingers clutched in the collar of his shirt like a reflex. Second nature to cling to him. His chest puffs up at the gesture.

“Thought about what you said the other week, bird, and you’re right.”

You blink, coherence coming back to you, shaking your head to divest yourself of the momentary confusion. “I am?”

“‘Course. Smartest girl in the world, isn’t she, Johnny?” Ghost asks over his shoulder, slipping a hand into your hair at the same time to hold you in place. It makes you frown, his actions not mirroring his words. 

“Aye, sir,” Johnny hums, nodding eagerly. Boots off, he stumbles forward, crowding around you from the other side, not realizing that they’ve backed you into a wall until it presses against you, trapping you in place. “Bonnie ‘n sharp as a whip. Always thought so, sir.” 

“That’s right,” he agrees, tightening his fingers in your hair until you squeal, brows furrowing in that way they do when you’re right on the precipice of pain and relief. “Only a smart, brave girl would ask for what she needs. You’re just lonely when I’m away, isn’t that right, pet?”

“I’m—I’m what?” you splutter, hands planted on Ghost’s chest, trying to push him away to no avail. He hardly notices it. 

“Go on, Johnny,” Ghost murmurs. “Since she asked so nicely. Give her a kiss.”

That’s all his mutt needs to hear. 

You huff and puff with the strain it takes to take Ghost’s cock after a week and a half away. 

You’re always tighter when he comes back, an effort to work you up to taking him again; he lets Johnny get you prepped this time, slobbering all over your pussy in his eagerness, plugging you with three fingers before you’re even close to ready. He gets off on the way you howl, rutting his cock into the sheets of your bed while he keeps you pinned by a thick arm over your stomach. 

Ghost has to scruff him after that. He takes over, running a soothing tongue over where it hurts until you cry big, fat tears and come a couple times. He makes sure you’re taken care of before it gets tough. You’re mindless by the time he moves off you to retrieve the lube from the bedside drawer, only coming back to yourself when he turns you over onto your belly and spreads the cheeks of your ass. It unwinds something in his chest to hear you yelp when he pushes a finger into your ass, like coming home. 

This is why he does what he does: to get this when the job is done. 

It’s not often he gets to do this, usually too big for you to take comfortably in your ass. Johnny’s not that much smaller, in fairness, so he works you up to two and then three fingers before lying down on the bed and pulling you over him. Your legs tremble when you straddle him, fingers digging into his chest when he lowers you onto his cock for the first time in a week. 

“There we go,” he says, grunting when you pull his chest hair a little. “That’s a good girl. We just about done crying now?” 

Ghost smiles when you shake your head stubbornly, eyes still filled with tears. “This isn’t what I meant, Simon.”

“You can cuss me out when Johnny’s done, alright? That make you happy?” 

He almost chuckles when Johnny clambers back onto the bed in his haste to get his hands back on you, his pants still hanging off an ankle until he gives it a shake once his palms fit over your waist. 

“Slowly, pup,” Ghost cautions, reaching around to spread a cheek. He coos when you flinch, whispering for you to relax. 

Johnny’s eyes roll back into his head when he pushes in, hips stuttering forward until Ghost snarls and he stops, letting out a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself down. Even for Ghost, it’s intense; you tighten around him when Johnny pushes in, only letting up when he cups your cheek and draws you down for a kiss, loosening you up with his tongue. 

“Sir, I can—fuck, fuck, fuck,” Johnny whines, back curving when he drops his head. “She’s so fuckin’ tight, I can—swear I can feel you, sir.”

He’s not wrong. Ghost swears he can feel it himself, Johnny’s cock in his pretty bird’s ass while his is stuffed deep in your cunt. You pant through the stretch, words half-croaked out, unintelligible. It’s better that way. He loves listening to you sing, but you’ve been in a right mood these past couple of weeks. Just needed a good lay to sort you out. 

“Simon,” Johnny begs, thrusting forward until he bottoms out in you, making your pulse skyrocket. “I cannae breathe.”

“Yes, you can,” Ghost says dismissively, wiping at the drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth. “Give ‘er a sec and then you can move.”

“So, so, so hot. ‘M gonna come—”

He reaches behind you to wrap a hand around Johnny’s throat, giving it a squeeze. Johnny’s eyes bulge. “You don’t get to come until she does, pup. That’s all the time, got it?” 

He doesn’t pay any mind to how Johnny nods and mumbles his little yes, sirs after that—he’s a grown man, maybe not as grown as Ghost, but man enough to compose himself until you stop trembling and sweating so hard. 

It’d been a mite difficult to wrangle you into bed. He understands. He’d let you talk yourself red in the face about this not being what you meant by ‘seeing other people’, but Ghost hears the said and the unsaid. You wouldn’t be still in his house a whole week later if you really wanted to leave. 

“Alright, pet,” he grins, running his thumb over your bottom lip until it drops open and you let him run it over your teeth. “Hang on now.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #soap mactavish #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost/reader #ghost/soap/reader #ghoap x reader

[feyascorner]

Hear me out! Hear me out!

From Astrion's pov

A Tav who hates physical contact.

But then one night when it's pouring rain Tav comes to Astarion's tent feeling scared and ask if they can stay and then one thing leads to another and suddenly the two of them are cuddled together and Astarion is like "I thought you didn't like being touched" and Tav is like "Normally I'm scared people will hurt me when they touch me. But you are different. I feel safe with you. I trust you."

a/n. I’m going to collapse they’re everything to me AHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT

Astarion, by nature and by the two-hundred years he’s spent as a vampire spawn, is a touchy person. It’s instinctual. A habit he can no longer break. It’s not even sexual, half the time. It’s simply how he conveys the words that he struggles to say, even if his vocabulary is filled to the brim with flowery verses of love straight from a romance novel.

But he understands the aversion for touch. Because he’s spent so much of his life hating the touch of strangers against his skin, he understands when you recoil when one of your companions attempt to hug you, or someone tries to shake your hand. Even if yours doesn’t stem from the similar situations where he had to set out on a victim under Cazador’s orders, he understands what it’s like to simply dislike it.

He doesn’t touch you, even if his hand itches to brush the stray strands of hair out of your face. Even as he has to yank his arm away when he feels it nearing yours as you walk alongside one another. Even as all he wants to do is drag you to the nearest corner and beg that you just hold his hand.

So when you appear at the flap of his tent, barely shielding yourself from the thunderous weather outside, asking if you can stay, his jaw physically unhinges.

He coughs, gathering himself quickly—or as quickly as he can manage.

“Come here, darling. You’ll freeze away with that mortal body of yours.”

He doesn’t even know how it happens. Well, he does, but he doesn’t really believe it’s happening. Only fifteen minutes later, you’re snuggled in under his blankets, pressed tightly against his side. He stares up at the ceiling on his back with wide eyes, slowly turning to look at you.

“Is this…alright?” He asks, and you peek out from one eye, adjusting your head on his arm. He can smell your shampoo from so close—lavender? No, maybe another blasted flower he doesn’t know the name of…

“What is?”

“This,” he waves his free arm between the two of you. “Don’t get me wrong, darling, you know I’m never against a cuddle, but I thought you—well—“

You stare at him expectantly.

“I thought you disliked physical contact,” he says, softer. “Not just with me, obviously. In general you seem rather opposed to the idea.”

The thunder rings from outside and your brows crease deeper. The light from a lightning strike illuminates your faces briefly before it’s a dim darkness again, with nothing but your own eyes able to adjust just enough to make out one another’s features. He’s sure he sees more than you do, considering his familiarity with the dark, and uses it to notice the way your lips purse at the intrusive sounds coming from outside.

He also notices you leaning closer to him, but hesitant. Your movements are unsure.

If he had a heart, it would’ve been pounding now, surely.

So he curls his arm closer, pushing you into his chest in the process. You tense briefly, but melt into the feeling, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Are you afraid?”

Your voice is but a whisper. “Not anymore.”

There’s a comfortable silence hanging in the air for what seems like hours, but he might consider them to be just a few minutes. The rain pounds relentlessly against the tent, but here, even through the thin fabric, he doesn’t even notice it anymore.

“You’re different from everyone else,” you mumble, and he looks down at his chest to see your eyes halfway shut, clearly about to doze off. “I know you won’t hurt me…there’s no reason for me to avoid touching you.”

He blinks, and you bury half your face into the fabric of his shirt.

“I want you to touch me.”

For the first time in decades, Astarion finds himself at a loss for words. He’s said worse things, sure, but coming from you?…

After filing through a dozen possible responses, he settled on one, opening his mouth to respond, but your breath is already heavier. You’ve already left to a dream world he cannot follow you into, and you’ve left him in a state that he would’ve considered humiliating with anyone else.

He stares at the ceiling again, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing.

“You can’t just say that and then fall asleep you fool…”

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff

[ham-st4r]

YOU LIKE TO BEG - L. HS

PAIRING: HEESEUNG + FEM READER

WARNINGS: PURE SMUT, UNPROTECTED SEX, ORAL, ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION, DIRTY TALK CURSING, MULTIPLE ORGASMS, CUM EATING, TEASING,.

WC: 4k+

SUMMARY: I was high and listening to this song AND THIS IS WHAT YOU GET 💀 BYE

♡︎

It was the weekend, and you were at a party one of your classmates invited you to. You don't remember whose house it was at. All you cared about was the free drinks and music.

You didn't really have friends, more like acquaintances, so you were hanging out in the kitchen having a drink all by yourself.

You weren't even two shots deep, and within minutes of entering the kitchen, you noticed someone taking a seat next to you in your peripheral.

"H-hi y/n," you hear the familiar voice, and it prompts you to turn your head to the side and make eye contact with him.

"Oh hey, hee," you replied casually and took another sip of your drink. "Didn't know you were the party type."

"Well…" you notice his hand shaking slightly as he goes to pour himself another drink. "I'm just gonna say it. Usually, I never go to these kinds of things, but a friend said you'd be here, so I came," he said softly and cut his eyes at you before turning back to his drink. "I came for you." As soon as the words left his mouth, he swallowed down a whole shot, grimacing at the strong taste. From his reaction, you assumed he wasn't much of a drinker either.

He quickly poured another shot so he wouldn't have to face you after just admitting that fact, and he nervously gulped it down in one go whilst impatiently waiting for your reply.

You're not sure what to take from that information. You and he weren't friends, so it wouldn't make sense for him to want to see you and hang out. You barely talked in school, so it was confusing that he suddenly came to a party just to see you. "Okay," you shrug, not thinking much of it other than him wanting to be friends. "You want another drink?" You offer him.

"Yes," he says just above a whisper. "I-I mean yes, please," he corrects himself and sits upright in his chair.

You laughed quietly and poured him a shot. You didn't expect to even see him tonight, let alone hang out with him, but you had nothing better to do, so why not?

Plus, he was cute.

After fifteen minutes of you both chatting about random topics, you grew bored of the party but not the handsome preppy boy that sat in front of you.

Who you learned had a crush on you after it accidentally slipped from his alcohol-sheen lips during your brief yet somewhat meaningful conversation.

Which now explains why he seemed so jumpy and nervous around you, but you thought it was cute, and to be honest, you were kind of crushing on him, too.

He had been fidgety all night. His palms were clammy before you even arrived, and the drinks weren't helping calm his nerves at all.

Just your presence alone made his knees weak. He's not sure how he was even able to hold a good conversation with you.

He probably stuttered five different times while he was talking to you, but he couldn't help it. He was so nervous.

You always made him feel nervous.

And the way your hand was slowly creeping up his thigh wasn't helping that fact.

He coughed slightly and shifted in his seat but didn't make any moves to stop you. You took that as the green light to test just how much of a crush he had on you by placing your hand over the front of his jeans.

You smiled with your lip caught between your teeth as you found the outline of his bulge and traced it with your fingertips. "You wanna come back to my place?" You asked with the sweetest smile as you squeezed his clothed length, wanting nothing more than to get out of this party and into his pants.

His eyes turned hazy at just the mention of you taking him home, and he could only nod in response, too entranced by you to even speak.

💜

"Y/n, please," Heeseung whines pathetically while you sit on his lap, your core just mere inches away from meeting his stiffened cock that was still clad in his jeans.

You'd both reached your place about twenty minutes ago. It started out with soft touches and not stop lip-locking until you both needed more of each other.

You had been teasing him the whole time, loving the sounds of his feeble cries and weak attempts at trying to get you to ride him.

He tried to lift his hips to feel you, but he was pressed firmly into the mattress and pinned down by his arms and legs. "Please"

"Okay, baby, I'll stop teasing you now." You lowered your core, pressing yourself against his bulge and rotating your hips on it.

"Fuck y/n," he hisses as soon as he feels some type of relief.

"Since I was such a tease, baby, you decide how you want it."

"Really?" He asked, half shocked, half excited. You nodded, a smile on your face as you rocked back and forth on the tent in his pants. "Can I taste your pussy? Please can't stop thinking about it." Every word came out in a needy tone, which let you know just how much he wanted it.

As soon as you give him the green light, he switches positions with you, laying you on your back and quickly gripping the hem of your bottoms. He then pulls them down and wastes no time before leveling his head with your cunt and going down on you.

The first taste he got, he swore he came in his pants a little. "Fuck" he moans into your cunt, tingling your pussy lips as he drags his tongue back and forth, licking you clean before he makes a mess out of you. "Knew you'd taste so good" he pressed two fingers on your clit, giving your body a slight jolt of pleasure. He then ran his fingers between your glossy folds, collecting your essence on his fingers. "So good," he whispers and makes direct eye contact while he sticks both of his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of your cream.

Your eyes rolled back, and you couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair and guide his mouth back and forth on your pussy. "Heeseung," your body shivers as his name easily rolls off your tongue, followed by a lewd moan.

He hums in satisfaction, his nose brushing against your clit and his tongue poking inside your hole.

He used his other hand to spread you apart further, pressing his face right against your core and cutting off his air supply.

Your moans and the wet, smacking sounds of his tongue filled up your bedroom as you gripped the sheets, losing yourself to the feeling of his slick, wet tongue flicking in and out of your hole.

He gave you lick after lick before flattening his tongue over your clit and sucking on the little bead of flesh.

"Hee- heeseung," You breathed out, thighs tensing with each suck. Before you could even get used to the feeling of his lips around your clit. He was already slipping his two fingers back inside you. "Oh fuck”

He moans, the deep bass in his voice vibrating on your core as he pumps his fingers in deeper, curling them up just right.

Your legs instinctively clamp shut, but his left hand keeps you spread wide, giving him more than enough room to devour your pussy, and devour he did.

Endless licks, sucks, and kisses had you biting down hard on your lip. You placed your other hand in his hair, pressing his face even closer to your core.

He gulped down every last sticky drop of arousal, his face covered in your slick as he made out with your pussy tilting his head and slipping his tongue in teasingly before he pulled away and nibbled on your outer lip softly.

You couldn't help but arch your back and buck your hips into his face. The pleasure too overwhelming that you didn't know you were cutting off oxygen, and he wasn't about to tell you he was perfectly content downing in your juices.

Which gave him the perfect idea. "Ride my face." Your eyes shot open the moment you heard his request. As soon as he saw what looked like hesitation on your face, he immediately started begging. "Please," he whines, slowly dragging his fingers along your drenched walls and nudging your thigh with his cheek. "Please, I want you to cum on my face so bad" he looks at you, giving you the cutest yet desperate eyes ever.

You weren't going to say no; you were just shocked by his request, but nothing sounded better than the idea of riding his face right now. "Lay on your back," you tell him.

"Okay," he slowly pulls his fingers out of your hole and obediently lies on his back while you pull your bottoms off completely and climb further on the bed until you're straddling his face.

You couldn't even stabilize yourself before his hands were around your waist, pulling you closer to his face. "Hee…" You put your hands on the bedpost throwing your head back, moaning in pleasure as he pushed you flush against his face, his tongue slithering between every crevice, licking you clean.

He was moaning more like whining nonstop, his hips desperately bucking up, trying to quell the insatiable desire between his legs.

Your aroma filled his nostrils as the tip of his nose brushed on your swollen clit.

He gripped your waist, a strong hold on your lower body as he ground you against his face, loving every ounce of it. "More," he mumbles out, and you don't hesitate to rock your hips back and forth, riding his face just like he wanted you to. "Hmm, mouth is so good hee."

That only excited him more as he licked a stripe for your hole to your clit, repeating the action over and over again to the point your legs trembled beside his head. "Cum in my mouth"

"Is that what y-you really want, hee?" your eyes rolled back, jaw slack, as you weakly grind on his beautiful face. "Want me to cum in your mouth?"

You ran your fingers through his sweaty strands, and his eyes fluttered.

He wrapped his arms around you, locking you in place so you couldn't move even if you wanted to. "Yes, please." The movement of your hips slows, and your walls tighten.

"C-close," he makes a sound of encouragement, his voice tickling your folds, and within moments, you're releasing into his mouth, desperately bucking your hips and getting yourself off on his skilled tongue.

When a fresh wave of arousal seeps out, he's there to lick up the warm, gooey goodness, never missing a beat, his tongue working to calm you down from your high.

He guided your core above him, his lips caressing your soft, sloppy folds.

After a minute more of him drinking from your water fountain, you lower yourself to his stomach, reaching your hand back to play with the tent in his pants.

He lays flat on the bed just like you told him to earlier. "Fuck, please let me have you."

The sight underneath you was the most amazing thing you've ever seen.

His face flush and shiny with your essence, his hair was a mess, and even his shirt had ridden up his waist, showing off his lean body that was now slick with your wetness.

Even after being absolutely pussy drunk, you could tell he wanted more, and so did you.

You put your index finger on his bottom lip, and he stared directly into your eyes before parting his lips and unexpectedly sucking your finger into his mouth and moaning like he had just tasted the best thing ever.

He swirled his tongue around your finger, even kissing the tip before he pulled away, which left you heaving and wanting more. "Shirt off." he easily grabs the hem of it, pulling it over his head and discarding it while he is busy with that. You undid his jeans and slid them down just past his knees.

You looked down at him, stroking his length painfully slow. "So hard," you whisper playfully, pumping the outline of his dick.

"Take them off." he takes a deep breath. "Please," He never forgets his manners, you thought to yourself.

You decided not to tease him anymore, and the second his underwear came down, you didn't hesitate to grab his shaft and align it with your gaping hole, slowly falling down on his stiff rod.

"Hmm, oh fuck" he slams his head back on your pillows, unable to control his reaction to the warmth of your pussy, sucking him in, he automatically starts bucking his hips up, forcing his cock deeper inside. "Shit," he breathes out, eyes clamping shut at the feeling of you wrapped around him so snugly.

A moan of relief escapes your lips as you feel him stretching you out. His hands slip under your shirt, caressing your skin as you take the lead and start bouncing on his long hard dick. "So good," he says in one long breath, his hands squeezing your hips as he indulges in the pleasure of you riding his cock.

You smirk down at him, loving the look of pure ecstasy written all over his face.

You took your hands off his chest, and he opened his eyes from the lack of contact, only to find you slipping your hands under your shirt and peeling it off, leaving your hair all messy, which made you look even hotter to him.

He whimpers pathetically at the sight of your bra-clad breasts, his hands quickly going behind your back and unclipping your bra in one go as you do a slow grind on him, continuously circling your hips.

The amount of control he didn't have when it came to you was almost scary, but he couldn't help it. Every last thing you did had him going insane, from the way you talked to him earlier at the party to now when you're fucking him senseless on your bed.

"Y/n, I need you," he moans after he discards your bra elsewhere, and you giggle softly because his desperation for you was so cute, yet such a turn-on at the same time.

"You have me," you say seductively. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as you gradually picked up the pace sliding up and down on his dick.

"Fuck" his voice comes out muffled into your chest, his fingertips leaving indents on your skin as you work, his length getting wetter with every moan and whimper that he lets out against your flushed skin.

You cage his head between your arms, fingers dancing across his scalp. His mouth falls open at the soft touch, and you lower your head immediately, capturing his lips in a hot, wet kiss.

He felt so good his toes began to curl, the kiss turning more and more desperate the longer he hit your sweet spot with his leaky tip.

"Fuck hee, you're so good," you whine into his mouth, tongue messily clashing with his as he slowly fucks into you from below.

"I'm so close," he parts from the kiss, needing a breather unless he was sure he would have passed out from pleasure. He was already feeling lightheaded just from your touch alone. "Shit"

You moved to his neck, lightly sucking on it while rocking back and forth, your walls clenched around him, just begging his cock to fill you up. "Cum hee," your mouth hangs open in a breathy moan as you kiss his neck a few more times before leaning up, wanting to see the look on his face while he cums inside you.

"Fuck okay," he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing as you picked up the pace of things to make him cum, his hips came to a halt, too weak and overwhelmed by the pleasure that he had to let you take over again. "I'm gonna cum" he rushes out, his hands going to your hips to slow your movements so he wouldn't cum inside. "Gotta pull out," he whispers hastily, doing his best to hold off his high.

"No hee, please want it. Want you to cum inside" You take his wrist in your hands, moving them from your waist so you can ride him without him interrupting you again. Pinning his hands beside his head, you use every last ounce of strength to bounce on his cock. You take him balls deep with every move, wet sticky sounds squelching between your bodies as your arousal mixed together, creating a white ring of pleasure around his thick base.

"Are you s-sur?" Before the words leave his mouth, it's far too late to stop, but he knows you don't want him to. By the way you're riding him so eagerly, riding him like you just couldn't wait to have your hole filled with his cream. "Fuck y/n fuck" his breath is heavy as his words linger in the air seconds later; you lock lips with his capturing each and every one of his sinful moans.

Once he's filled you up, you broke the kiss, nipping on the skin of his shoulder and riding out his high.

He turns his head to the side, eyes closed, and when you go to kiss, that's when you notice him acting a little off.

You were about to ask what was wrong, but you didn't need his words for the answer. He was still nestled inside of you hard as a rock, and no wonder he was acting all shy. "You wanna go again?" He turns to look at you, his face flush, hair drenched in sweat, and he can only nod in response. Yet again, if you didn't know any better, you'd say you had him under some sort of spell by the way he was looking at you.

Heeseung was awestruck and completely mesmerized by you, and when you were on top of him asking to go another round, the idea of saying no never even crossed his mind.

"Yeah," he sounds breathless as he replies, and you throb around him, unable to stop the rhythmic pulsating of your pussy. "Please," there he goes again, desperately begging you for more as if you didn't just give him a five-course meal and the best orgasm of his life.

His chest was flushed red, his abdomen covered in sticky slick. He was utterly exhausted, but that didn't stop him from flipping you over and taking the lead. This time, he didn't even bother pulling out before he positioned you to lie on your back. Besides, if he pulled out, he's sure he wouldn't even be able to last a single second without being buried in your cunt. This was his new favorite feeling. Your warm walls were hugging him so tight. He found a home within you, a home that he never wanted to leave as his length perfectly molded its way in your tight little cunt. "Put your legs on my shoulders beautiful, gonna make you cum so hard" Suddenly feeling submissive under him. You're quick to comply, your legs going up on his broad shoulders. He pushed the backs of your thighs down, pressing them to your chest, and you swore you could feel him going in inches deeper.

"Hee," you whined, already clawing at his chest, leaving little red marks on his lower stomach.

He smiles at your reaction, a soft laugh coming from him before he bends down and kisses you one time. "So beautiful like this." he traces your jawline, brows furrowing as he takes in the sight of every curve dip and imperfection on your skin. Hell, what imperfections you were literally perfect in his eyes.

He was so lost in your eyes that he barely even registered when he started moving his hips and slowly fucking into you, inching back and forth to get you used to the new angle. "You take it like you were made for me," he thinks out loud, hands caressing your thighs before he leans down and grips the sheets beside your head, thrusting in and out at the perfect pace. "O-oh y/n," he sighs, pulling almost all the way out before sheathing himself back inside of you.

Your mouth parts in an o shape, silent moans leaving your lips as your brows furrow in pleasure.

The sight of your pleasured face and the way your tits jiggle right in front of his eyes makes him go feral.

He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, pressing himself further against you to get as close and as deep in you as possible.

Your arms immediately wrap around him, trying to ground yourself as he plows into you, going deep into your stomach with every thrust, and it becomes impossible for you not to scream in pleasure. "Oh god fuck yeah hee, just like that, don't stop."

The nickname, the sound of your whiney voice, and the needy clenching of your hole drove him to the point of no return. He's gone. So lost in your pussy that everything else around him is nonexistent.

He promised himself that he wouldn't stop until you were shaking and creaming around him. "Yeah, let it all out, baby. I know you fucking want it," he groans, fingers digging into your sheets veins bulging all over his body as he gives you his all, which is too much for you, and seconds later, you let out the lewdest moan every as you came so hard on his cock.

"Hee," you squeak as his tip keeps hitting your cervix, each touch making you whine and clench pathetically, asking for more.

"Keep moaning my name," he says as if you had an option. All you could remember was his name cause he was fucking you completely senseless.

"Heeseung," another whine of his name comes out when he unexpectedly starts rubbing your clit.

The sounds of skin clapping bounce off the walls. The room was steamy and full of nothing but the smell of sex as you two lost yourselves in each other.

You were already close again, and so was he. The way his full sack brushed against your ass turned you on more than it probably should, but you couldn't help it. Feeling his sweaty skin against yours was truly the best thing you've ever experienced, and you were on the edge of experiencing something even better.

"Fuck y/n, I'm gonna cum again," he grunts, feeling his forearms grow tired, and he falls on top of you, restlessly bucking his hips so you both can cum on time with one another. "Kiss," he says, rubbing your clit and stroking your walls to bliss. His unoccupied hand reaches for anything to hold onto, and your hand quickly moves from his waist, clasping it with his seconds before you both come crashing down, him filling you up and you staining his cock in your cum. "So good," he moans into your mouth, his cock throbbing with every spill of cum.

You hum, basking in the warmth of his load, brimming your swollen pussy over. "Hee," you breathe out, hand lightly scratching his back until you both calm down a bit.

He laid his head beside yours, your bodies still twitching and tingling in the aftermath of having cum multiple times.

Neither of you even think about moving the warmth far too comfortable to worry about clean up.

His cock was still resting inside you. The warmth and fullness made you sleepy, especially with him on top of you, feeling like your personal weighted blanket.

Moments later, you drift to sleep. He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead and nuzzles up to you, following you into dreamland.

♡︎

When he wakes, the bed is empty, but before his heart sinks in disappointment, he notices a note you'd left for him telling him you had to leave early. He breathes a sigh of relief and can't stop smiling from ear to ear when he sees your number at the bottom of the Post-it note.

You smile while at work after you receive a text from him going on and on about how great last night was.

You reply with a smiley face and wait for him to make the next move, and you know he would cause, after all, he liked to beg.

FIN

♡︎

Permanent taglist:🔖 @furious-eagle @hoyeonheeseung @heeseungssidechick @aishigrey @heesitation @hee-pster

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#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen #lee heeseung #smut #heeseung angst #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #Spotify

[cubeshapedlemon]

Atomic Baby

You, a wastelander are captured by an unfortunate group of men, your knight in dusty leather does more for you than you originally thought he would.

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Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x f!reader

6.2k words

cw & tags: general smut, piv, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), cannon typical violence, unwanted (implied) sexual advances(not by cooper), brief alcohol use, use of pet names, heavy flirting, cannon typical drug use

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authors note: this is my first fallout fic! im hoping to write more! (check out my pinned post for more info) and my first nsfw one so i hope you enjoy. Tbh there are some moments where he is slightly ooc, just kinder than in cannon but whatever. There is a large possibility that this could become a multi-chapter at some point but it can 100% be read free standing. please reblog if you wish but do not repost or translate anywhere without my permission. anyway thank you! and let me know if you notice any mistakes or something i missed in the tags!

Waking up to three weaselly looking men looming over you with a rather sharp looking hatchet, not the best thing ever. Your little camp seeming to be ransacked already, you glare up. The one who seems to be the leader of their little group ties a rough length of rope to your wrists as the other two rifle through your bag. Hauling you up they force you to start waking.

The scorching hot sun beams down on your shoulders as you walk.The irradiated heat of the wasteland is never forgiving, especially not recently; even at night it’s been like sleeping in an oven.

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Walking, endless walking. It has already been about an hour or so since your capture. The winds picking up, trapping your lungs with dusty red soil. Phlegmy coughs and chortles follow behind you. At least they aren't at your side anymore, for the first half hour or so they would take turns shoulder checking you… or spitting at you… or tripping you… really anything those dirty bastards could think of. At this point their boredom with you is really coming to your advantage.

The greasy men are probably hoping to sell you or your organs for a few caps. Either one, not fantastic. Soil kicks up around you, forceful wind driving you to trudge forward with more effort. Glancing down at your wrists you start to feel some relief, the knot binding your wrists getting looser by the second. The dumb bastards clearly were no eagle scouts, their poor attempt at a knot slowly unfurling as you walk.

Looking forward again you have some hope. A dinghy looking town ahead of you. Walking closer and closer you see something in the town? Someone? Oh thank the lord someone. Maybe there is hope for you after all, I mean just weighing the odds, what are the chances that this random person is also chomping at the bit for some extra caps? Thinking about it now, they probably are. Well, a small chance is better than no chance.

Unraveling the last of the rope you propel yourself forward, running desperately. Your life -quite literally- depends on it. Your captors quickly realize and start chasing after you, you race forward, sights pinned on the figure in front of you.

Stopping yourself just quickly enough, you slam into the figure, making them stumble back slightly. “Now what in the-” the accented baritone voice of the person says. Grasping onto the lapels of his jacket you stare up desperately begging,

“Please help me sir, these guys captured me. I think they're going to sell me or something!”

The man looks up for a moment, staring at the men just a few seconds away before looking back down at you, “What's in it for me doll?” he says, smirking down.

“Just please!” a short chuckle erupts from his chest, placing a hand on your waist he pushes you behind him.

“I gotcha, just stay behind me.” Your captors slow to a stop, attempting to catch their breath; one of the goons is the first to attempt speech through all the heavy breathing.

“Give her back, we found ‘er first.” He says in a whiny tone, clearly not the brightest bulb.

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“Well… uh” he struggles to find the words, dumbly looking to his superior. 

“Well what? Cat got yer’ tongue?”

The ring leader is the next to speak, lips parting in a sneer, revealing a mouth full of rotten teeth. “Finders keepers ghoul. It's rare you see a pretty little thing like her these days… thought we'd sell ‘er. Caps are hard to come by. You understand.”

“Well, I can't deny she is quite the looker,” the ghoul says, looking to his side over at you, eyes grazing over your face before looking up, staring holes through the head of the man in front. “But in terms of the ‘finders keepers’ I'm going to have to dispute that fellas’. You see… i'm not really in the business of sharin’ and she seems to have found me,'' he laughs, hand going to his holster, “so i'm keepin’.”

Between the effort of running and the ghoul's comment your face is quite warm. The tension between him and the men rises every millisecond. Praying that the ghoul is a reliable shot seems to be your only hope as the group gets more irritated by the second. The leader goes to speak again, clearly not taking the hand-on-the-holster hint from the ghoul. 

“I don't think so-” he says, drawing his pistol. The ghoul, already prepared, fires off a shot, beating him to his own, a bullet landing in the man’s shoulder. The leader stumbles, being taken to one knee. The goons caught by surprise go to draw their own guns, before another warning shot fires off, grazing the cheek of one.

Taking the hint, they drop their guns, hands held shakily as they lower to themselves to kneel on the ground. Clearly not wanting to take any chances. The ghoul walks over to the leader, the barrel of his gun pressed into the man's chin, forcing him to look up. The ghoul grins sarcastically.

“Well I know so. Now, why don't you pick your dusty ass up and get you, and your little…” He looks back at the two other men, “fanclub, outta’ here while I take care of that fine piece of ass you so helpfully lead into my arms.” He holsters his gun again, reaching into his pocket for a moment, “Some caps for your troubles.” he says, dropping a few caps on the ground before turning around and walking back to you.

“I- thank you.” you say dumbly, looking up at the ghoul. 

“Don't thank me sweetheart,” he says, scanning your body for injuries. His eyes lock on a laceration on your arm before looking back at you. “Let's get you stitched up now,” he says with a tone you can't quite place. You lift your arm to look at the wound for a moment, must've gotten it at some point during the walk.

Looking back up, the ghoul has already walked past you, most likely expecting you to follow as he heads towards a building a few meters away. Quickly you move to follow him, eager to get away from your former captors.

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You watch awkwardly as he rummages for a needle and thread, finally finding some, he threads the needle, Sitting down on the only chair available. He looks up expectantly with a barely-there smirk.

“Well, come take your seat doll,” he says, patting his thigh. “That there won't stitch itself,” he says nodding to your arm. A heat once again rises to your face as you shuffle over, sitting down on his knee, the wound facing him as your legs are thrown across his lap. You attempt to focus on the wall ahead of you, ignoring the fact that this is the only welcome touch you've had in a while. 

Soon you have something else to focus on as the most definitely not sterile needle pierces your skin. You look over your shoulder at the man, his hat tipped back lazily as he pinches the needle through his thumb and forefinger. A whip stitch quickly binding the laceration. He ties a knot before snapping the extra thread off with a nip of his teeth.

He grasps you at the waist and under your knees, standing, while setting your feet on the ground. “I believe that's all. ‘Should be able to gather enough things here to get you on your way,” he says, walking to the door.

“Wait! Could I come with you? I don't have much, but I could help you in some way... Carry supplies, cook, something,” you say, not ready to be alone quite yet. He gives an almost genuine smile, facing you again. 

“Well I don't find myself in need of a pack mule. I'll be on my way ma'am.” he replies, tipping his hat before walking out, seeming to already have his next location in mind. He walks confidently, out of the town into the infinite desert ahead.

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After gathering a decent amount of supplies in the surrounding buildings you stand in the middle of town absolutely stumped. There is nothing for you in this abandoned town you find yourself in and it's not like you've had the best track record with setting up your own camp recently. 

Wandering around a little more you find yourself where you met your knight in dusty leather. The other men now long gone, you stoop down and collect the things they left. Lucky for you they pretty much dropped everything they had, undoubtedly wanting to get away from the ghoul as quickly as possible.

Picking through their supplies you find that they left their guns and a decent amount of ammo, as you attach the holster to your belt you notice some strange little bottles; about four of them. Tiny cylindrical vials filled with a clear yellow-green liquid. Well, chems are chems you think to yourself, stuffing them inside a first aid kit you found inside one of the buildings.

After nosing around the supplies a bit more you decide you don't want anything else. What to do now…

Well, making your own camp is out of the question for now. You could follow the ghoul, he seems to be a decent survivalist, and the safest person you've interacted with in months. You could stay just behind him, he won't even notice. Just until he passes a more substantial settlement. Or you decide on somewhere else to go.

Deciding on that as a decent course of action, you follow the path marked by his footsteps. The sun is starting to get lower in the sky at this point, it's important to start moving before dusk falls.

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You have been following the ghoul's path for about two days now, trailing behind him. Being just close enough to where you can see when he settles down for the night, taking it as a sign to wind down as well.

As day two starts to end you see him in the distance, he starts to set up his camp for the night so you do too. Two days completely filled with travel can really take a lot out of a person, you soon welcome the sleep that takes you.

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“Well, hello there little lady.” you hear a familiar voice say, spooking you awake. Your eyes open to be greeted by the face of your savior from a few days ago. He's standing over you, eyes boring into yours. “Now what do you think you're doin’. Following me around these past few days, thinkin’ I wouldn't notice.”

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude, I just didn't know where to go… and I figured following behind you would be a safe bet. Just until we passed another settlement! That's all I swear!” You rush to speak, trying to rationalize your thinking to him.

“Is that so? Well I hate to break it to ya’ darlin’ but the next town is about a 3 day walk away,” he informs, standing back to his full height before stepping away. You groan, rubbing your face forcefully in frustration. What the hell are you supposed to do now? Sitting up, you lazily start to collect your things.

Taking your sweet time, you scoot towards where you had placed your pack for the night. Leisurely taking a sip of water and a bite of some jerky you snagged in town. Now you really had to think about what you were going to do. You doubt he would let you continue following him, and clearly he had some 6th sense for this type of thing so secretly doing it isn't in the cards.

“Get yer’ ass up! We're burnin’ daylight out here.” the ghoul yells. Confused, you whip your head around to look at him. He walks towards you. 

“What?” you say stupidly. 

“We need to get a move on,” he states, squatting down to meet your eye level. “If we move at your glacial pace we'll never get there.” he remarks sarcastically. Standing once again he goes to collect the last of his things, yelling to you again, “Now! and I ain't carryin’ any of your shit so don't even think about bitchin’ about it.” 

With a huff, you stand dusting yourself off before grabbing your pack and trailing behind the ghoul.

☆          ☆          ☆

The first day of travel was mostly uneventful, walking, walking, and even more… walking. Though you quickly learn that he doesn't talk much. And he walks quite fast. While you were certainly an effective and efficient walker, you were still left in the dust.

One of his large strides was equivalent to about one and a half of yours. Walking behind someone for miles is not exactly the most engaging activity, but it gave you plenty of time to think. And oh boy did your mind have some things to say.

As you walk your mind starts to wander. ‘my view of him from behind wasn't all that bad,’ you think to yourself. ‘He walks with a confidence that would make anyone quake in their boots, including me. Just possibly in a different way.’

By the end of the day you were spent. Sitting down by the fire, the sun finally setting, eating whatever scraps had been left over in your bag. Not exactly the most exciting dinner in the world, but in this day and age boring and uneventful is a blessing.

It's l quite awkward, sitting across from him. He has such an intense gaze. The exquisite hazel of his eyes is something so uncommon, especially for a ghoul. He seems to be doing well for himself, as close as one can be in the wasteland that is. But with that it makes the feeling ever stronger.

The way he bores his eyes into you makes you feel like he can hear everything you have been thinking all day.

Looking at you like you're something to eat.

☆          ☆          ☆

The second day seems to be turning into much of the same. Infinitely more walking ahead of you. Though there is something different in the air today, something new that you can't quite place.

As you look past him you hope you can see anything different, anything new. At this point you would celebrate for a tumbleweed. Though there is still much to think about.

You come to realize how little you truly know about your traveling partner. I mean, you met him not even a week ago and now you've committed to a good bit more time with him and you don't even know his name. He hasn't spoken much to you since your journey started, or really at all that you can remember.

What a shame. His voice is something that continues to echo through you. His deep baritone with that saccharine accent. While he doesn't talk much, it really is a treat when he does. When it comes to the short conversations he has with you, you can't help but get giddy at the pet names he calls you. 

Now that you think about it, he doesn't know your name either. Quickening your steps you catch up to walk next to him. Looking up you see him eye you suspiciously. Suddenly feeling a bit insecure you look back down. Who are you to think that he would want to speak with you? Well, what the hell, why not?

“Hey!” you say, attempting to sound casual, failing horribly. Sparing you some embarrassment, he doesn't seem to react at all, eyes directed forward. “I was just wondering, it's probably stupid, you don't have to answer obviously. But uh, you know what? Never mind. Sorry.”

Wow, really smooth. Admitting defeat you slow your pace back to your normal one, starting to fall behind him once again; that is, until a leather-clad hand finds itself on your hip. Rushing you to once again, meet his steps.

“Just spit it out babydoll, if we're gonna’ be stuck together, I suppose you can get a question or two,” he conceded. His hand pulls back to his side, a bit leisurely crossing the small of your back. Not that you were going to complain, a welcome shiver running through you.

“Well, I was going to ask your name.” That seems to have gotten his attention, his head turning so he can fully look at you now. His eyes roving over your face as if looking for a lie. 

“My name? That's what you want to know?”

“I mean… yeah? I just thought if we were traveling together I should know what to call you,” you explain, once again feeling insecure. He turns his head forward once again, an unreadable expression taking over his face. 

“Is that so?” Understanding this to be rhetorical, you stay silent, deciding instead to focus on walking.

Quite soon though, you find yourself stopping. While the sun is getting lower in the sky, normally you would have another hour or so until you would start to settle down. Confused, you turn to ask; He beats you to it.

“There's some decent huntin’ and some clean water 'round here. Stay and set up house.” Wordlessly you nod, placing your bag on the ground. You walk a few meters away, collecting some sticks for a fire as you hear his heavy footfalls go in the opposite direction.

☆          ☆          ☆

Just as the sun starts to set, and you finally get a decent fire going you see your partner walking towards you. Some sort of meat that he already seems to have butchered in his hand. 

“Darlin’ would you cook this up,” He says, not really waiting for an answer, handing you the game. “I have got to get off my feet.” He goes and settles down, resting his back against a large rock in the general vicinity of the fire. Rummaging through his bag he grabs out a small vial, identical to the ones you snagged days previously. He attaches it to what looks to be a repurposed Jet inhaler, taking a hit.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Quit your starin’,” he hollers. Taking the hint, you avert your gaze and spear the meat onto an extra stick.

The meat roasts somewhat unevenly but who can complain at this point? While doing the mindless task you can't help but look up at him. Still leaning up against the rock his head is back now, dusty cowboy hat tipped over his eyes. He really is quite handsome. Ghoul's don't exactly get the best rap when it comes to anything, especially looks. You decide that people would change their minds if they met him.

Looking down again towards your work you decide it looks done enough. Separating just over half of it you place it onto a handkerchief, walking it over to him, placing it on his lap. He goes to move his hat back, giving you a nod before you go back to your spot across from him, the heat of his gaze following you.

Sitting down you prepare for another silent dinner. Digging into your food, you hear him clear his throat, causing you to look up. “Cooper,” he says, “Cooper Howard.” You smile, a real genuine smile, giving him your name as well. A small grin finds its way to his face. So subtle you almost missed it. There was truly something in the air today.

☆          ☆          ☆

Waking up the following day you feel like shit. Clean water has been pretty sparse causing your head to pound like a drum. Sure there was some clean water near here but even the idea of standing up sounded unappealing. Deciding it’s best to get it over with sooner rather than later you sit up. 

You start to dig through your pack trying to find your canteen with no success. Confused, you look around, still no canteen. “Cooper?” you yell, not seeing him in the immediate vicinity either. 

“What is it, doll?” He yells back, coming into your field of view, strutting as always. 

“Oh thank the gods. For a second I thought you left me behind,” you sigh with relief.

“Now why would I do that?” A sarcastic tone infesting his speech. Rolling your eyes, you speak again. 

“Have you seen my canteen anywhere? I can't find it. Thought I'd refill it with the clean water you were talking about last night,” you add, standing up and dusting yourself off. Cooper responds by reaching into the pocket inside his jacket, pulling out your canteen and shaking it. The sound of fresh water splashing inside.

Unscrewing the cap he walks up to you, so close you two are almost chest to chest. “Drink up,” he says, lifting it, waiting, like he expected something. And who are you to deny his expectations? Lifting your gaze from the container to the depths of his eyes you open your mouth obediently. He rewards you with a slight smirk, tipping the opening towards your lips.

Despite the increasing tension between you, you are genuinely thirsty. You gulp down the water desperately between heaving breaths. Seeing that you had gotten enough, he screws the cap back on, wiping away a leftover drop on your lip with his thumb. 

“Well ain't you just a prize,” he remarks, so quietly you think he didn't mean for you to hear it. With an almost imperceptible smile on his face he steps away, “ You better start gettin’ a move on little lady. If we walk fast enough we can get to town by supper.” You watch for a second as he grabs his bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

Shaking the leftover tension you do the same, the idea of sleeping in a real bed tonight pushing you forward.

☆          ☆          ☆

Unfortunately, the heat truly has been overwhelming today. Notably, Cooper has slowed down just enough to match your pace today. Maybe you're truly starting to crack that hard outer shell he keeps himself in.

After about an hour of you fanning yourself, tying your hair up, then taking it down and putting it up in a different way you give up. Deciding that you would rather just be scorched than fiddle with your clothes or hair every fifteen seconds. 

Soon after you come to this decision, Cooper silently lifts his hat off of himself, placing it on your head. The slight shade of the brim gives you some relief from the unending heat. Gratefully, you look up at him, he doesn't seem to think his action is anything of interest. His eyes still facing forward, face still pulled into a permanent scowl.

You look back down, “Thank you,” you say absentmindedly. 

“Don't mention it,” he replies, his tone flat. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you for the rest of your travels. Every once and a while you would sneak an admiring glance or two. A few times you could swear you felt his gaze on you, but of course you have no proof of that.

☆          ☆          ☆

After several hours of travel you and Cooper find yourself in a rather nice little town. Nice for a town in the wasteland, that is, not that you can complain. Looking around you see several amenities, a decent looking saloon, a trading post, and a shabby motel being the ones that catch your eye.

You suspect that Cooper is more relieved than he is letting on, taking a deep breath, he allows himself a moment to take it in. “Come on now, let's get a room,” he says, stealing his hat off of you, placing it on his head once again. Both of you eager, you head to the desk of the motel. 

Not caring to speak to anyone, as you two walk in Cooper silently drops a handful of caps onto the desk, grabbing a random key (and its spare) from the wall with the other hand as he does. You give a respectful nod to the person behind the desk before swiftly following him.

After passing a few rooms, your traveling partner looks down, matching the number on the key to the one on the door. Unlocking it, you are greeted by a could-be-better room. But who has time to complain? It's a place to rest your head and keep out of the elements.

“While all this is nice and all, I need a drink,” Cooper declares, setting down his bag and grabbing some caps out of one of the pouches. 

“Ok, I think I'm going to get myself cleaned up here first, I'll meet you in a few.” making a sound of acknowledgement, Cooper leaves, tossing you the extra key, the sound of the lock clicking into place as the door closes.

Sure there wasn't anything fancy like running water here but they were kind enough to have a bottle of talc and a rag in the bathroom. Gratefully, you clean yourself up as much as you can before heading to the saloon.

☆          ☆          ☆

Walking in, you scan the room. It's packed with all kinds of people, all jabbering on with their own group, all sipping their alcohol of dubious origin, not that you can complain, you're about to do the same thing. Looking around again, closer this time. Looking for a specific ghoul. There he is.

He sat himself at a small booth, a round table in front of him. An empty glass -presumably his own- set atop. His legs are spread lazily, the brim of his hat creating a shadow over his eyes. It truly is despicable how beautiful he is.

Snapping yourself out of what is probably a desperate looking stare, you head over to the bar. You dig out enough caps from your pockets for two of whatever cheap whiskey you could get your hands on. “Two of whatever's cheapest,” you say leaning over the bartop, dropping enough caps for both, plus tip, on the counter. Nodding, the barkeep collects two glasses, pouring with a rather heavy hand, before handing them to you and snatching the caps.

You look over to where Cooper is once more; he's looking at you now, an intense indescribable air around him. You fight to not smirk at the fact that you caught him staring, you grab the drinks and head over to his table, challenging him with your continued eye contact. “Now where have you been all my life?” you hear an unfamiliar whiny voice say. Instantly your mood is ruined, with a scowl you turn towards the voice. It belongs to a plain looking man, a much too confident smirk on his face.

“As far away from you as I could manage,” you quip, rolling your eyes and making your way to your table. Hearing him get up from his chair, following in your direction you turn to face him again. “I'm here with someone don't even try,” you warn, though of course he doesn't take the message. 

“Well I don't see him ‘round here,”

“You sure you don't?” You hear that familiar accented voice say behind you while wrapping his arm around your waist. Cooper stares down the man in front of you. 

“A ghoul?” the man says, looking up towards him briefly before continuing his eye contact with you. “I can fuck you better than a goddamn ghoul I'll promise you that. You make that switch I'll show you a good time,” the man claims, stalking towards you with a dangerous leer on his face.

“Oh, I guarantee you can't,” Cooper gloats, flashing the gun at his side. Without a second thought he grasps your jaw firmly, turning your head to face him and he locks his lips with yours. Taken aback, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, but he quickly deepens the kiss. He runs his tongue on the seam of your lips. You quickly obey, opening your mouth to the welcome intrusion. With how intense the kiss became you couldn't help but let out a whimper, which he rewards with a firm squeeze of your waist.

You separate after what seems like an eternity, Cooper looking at the man in front of you. “Betcha’ believe it now don't ya'?” he smirks, leading you back to the booth. He grabs both of your drinks, setting them down on the table before sitting down. Feeling some confidence after what just transpired, you sit down on his lap, one of his legs settled between yours. Teasing a bit, you shift your hips against his a few times as if settling in.

“You keep doin’ that you're gonna get yourself in trouble,” he warns, grabbing and handing you your drink before shooting back his own. With a smile you lean back, resting against him. 

“I'm ok with trouble,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. Making a sound of contentment, Cooper runs his hand up your thigh, squeezing as his hand trails close to where you truly need him. You let out an unintentional whine at this, attempting to cover it up with a hefty gulp of your drink.

“Are you know? Well trouble is what I got darlin’,” he claims, bouncing his leg that you are perched on. His thigh rubbing deliciously on you. “Just say the word.” Finding all the sensations to be far too much you give in to his teasing. Rocking your hips back on him again you bring your lips to his neck, kissing up slowly, ending on his jaw. 

“Please.”

Releasing a satisfied groan he gives you a relatively chaste kiss compared to earlier, he adjusts you and sets your feet on the ground, pulling you and him up to stand. “Lead the way pretty girl,” he purrs, delivering a swift smack to your ass as you scramble to get to your room.

☆          ☆          ☆

As soon as the door is closed and locked behind you two, you are forced against a wall. Clearly attempting to keep some sort of control over himself Cooper takes a deep breath. “Darlin’ I'm serious, you ain't gettin’ rid of me after this. You sure you want this? just say so and I’ll leave.” The pathetically desperate look in his eyes makes you even more eager to give him your answer 

“Please Coop, I need you.”

Not needing any further confirmation, he once again locks his lips with yours. Opening your mouth right away, the kiss deepens quickly, both of you desperate to get a taste of each other. Cooper rips off his leather gloves, needing to feel you on him directly. That still not being enough, he paws at your top roughly, pushing it up. Parting for a moment he pulls it over your head, unclasping and removing your bra just after.

“Well ain't you the prettiest little thing,” he breathes, running his hands up your body to cup your tits. Stooping down, he sucks a dark bruise into the side of one, looking satisfied with himself as he does so. 

“Coop,” you whine, starving for more. He falls completely to his knees now, delicately taking off your boots, eye contact steady. 

He next moves to unbutton your jeans. He moves frustratingly slow, clearly enjoying your huffs of annoyance. Pulling off your pants and underwear in one, he grabs your hips harshly, pushing them into the wall. Without delay, he places your thighs over his shoulders, diving into your core like it's his last meal. He runs his tongue from your entrance to your clit, sucking it into his mouth harshly before releasing. Desperate for more, he plunges his tongue inside you once again.

The sudden intrusion forces a deep groan out of you. In need of a perch, you wrap your hand harshly around the back of his neck, knocking his hat off in the process. “You are just about the sweetest thing I've ever tasted,” he coos, placing a messy kiss on your inner thigh. 

“Cooper, please. I need you,” you beg, desiring everything he can give you.

“Well I can't say no to that, can I?” he jokes, wrapping your legs around him as he stands. Holding you by your waist he makes his way to the bed. He swiftly tosses you atop, you bounce slightly, watching as he stalks towards you with an indescribable hunger. The heat of his stare intense, you desperately clench around nothing. 

Kneeling on the bed now, Cooper runs his fingers through your folds, your wetness coating them. Slowly, he works a single finger inside of you, thrusting it in and out. “Fuck- Coop,” you moan, blinded by pleasure. He works another finger in, continuing the same pace, curling his fingers to hit that perfect spot every time. Working you open, preparing you for what was next.

“Good girl, so desperate for me, just a bitch in heat.” Lacking the proper brain function to respond, you whimper at his comment. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Oh you like that don't you? You like being my needy little thing. The little slut I get to use.” his pace increases, fingers rubbing immaculately inside of you. The low buzz at the bottom of your stomach beginning to bloom, your hips unconsciously bucking down to meet his thrusts. 

“Please, please please,” you beg, not quite knowing what you're begging for.

“I gotcha’ doll. Let go,” he assures, moving his thumb to rub quick circles on your clit. As if commanded, you let go right away. The pressure inside of you bursting with a moan, hips bucking wildly out of your control. Clenching desperately around his fingers. “That's it… that's my girl.” Your body comes down after a few seconds more, thighs twitching with the residual energy. Cooper delicately removes his fingers from you, a small whimper of overstimulation coming from you.

Placing them in his mouth, he laps up any of you he can get. “Sweet as honey, you are,” he teases. Letting out a breathy laugh at his comment, you fist your hand on his collar, pulling him in. The kiss is passionate, tasting yourself on him only spurs you on further. Your other hand trails down his body, finding the tent in his pants you give a teasing rub. His hips stutter forward briefly, making you smile into the kiss.

Your nimble fingers undo the button on his pants, the zipper following. Breaking the kiss you look up at him, silently asking for permission. Giving you a short nod, Cooper further pushes himself into you, bordering on grinding at this point. With a grin you take him out of his pants. You give a few experimental tugs, feeling the weight of him in your palm. His hips stutter again, “You better quit your teasin’ ‘fore I make you.” As enticing as that sounds, you listen. You rub him against you a few times before lining him up with your entrance.

Slowly, he starts to push in, your heat inviting him in. “F-fuck,” he whimpers, pausing for a moment. “I'm sorry baby, you just feel so good.” Pushing in farther, he bottoms out. He grinds into you, desperate to get as deep as he can. 

“Please, Coop, please move,” you whimper out. 

“You are so pretty when you beg. You will be the death of me darlin’,” he says, pulling out about halfway before slamming back in. He quickly sets a brutal pace, hips slamming into you quickly and harshly. The low buzz in your stomach quickly returns, every ridge of him rubbing deliciously inside of you. It's not long before you become a puddle of whines and moans, the low buzz bursting once more, stars exploding behind your vision.

His pace does not falter, his hips still moving at the same brutal pace. In fact, he finds this the perfect opportunity to start rubbing quick circles on your clit. Anything he can do to get you to go, needy to see it again.

“Come on now, you can do it one more time for me can't you?” not believing it can happen so soon again, you shake your head, pathetic whines falling from your lips. “Yes you can, come on. I'll follow right behind. One more for me, pretty girl,” he assures, his tone starting to sound as whiny as yours. The next one comes up faster than the others, beginning already so close to the precipice.

“Fuck, Coop im going to-”

“I know sweetheart, let go, come for me.” Your body takes that command wholeheartedly, you lock your legs around his hips, forcing him deeper as you fall over your precipice, his pace truly faltering, thrusts now short and sloppy. “Fuck, darlin’ im gonna’,” he attempts to say. 

“I know,” you say between whimpers of his name. Before long he joins you in bliss, filling you to the brim.

He rests his head on your shoulder briefly, pulling out after a moment and righting himself in his clothes. Rolling over onto the bed moments after. Cooper tiredly pulls you against him, not a care in the world at the moment. To be honest you didn't either. The Rad-Away would just have to wait.

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #fallout fanfic #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x f!reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul fanfic

[wri0thesley]

lion tamer - jing yuan x reader (12.4k)

it's taken for granted you'll take the job that nobody else wants, whilst the general is indisposed. you just didn't expect things to turn out like this.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. chubby reader. reader is afab but no gendered terms are used. descriptions of raw meat (animals eating), food, pining, fingering, cunnilingus, coming inside. pet names including little bird, darling, little thing. reader is implied to be shorter than jing yuan.

This was a commissioned work.

It’s a quiet whisper, at first - gossip among the lower-downs of the Luofu. You hear it on the fringes and the edges, but you dismiss it as really none of your business; you’re already working harder than most everyone else thanks to the small matter of your far shorter lifespan, and you don’t intend to set yourself back by listening to idle gossip. You have other things to concentrate on; the busywork that you’ve been assigned to as a junior (very junior) member of the Seat of Divine Foresight. 

Really, though they call you a ‘non-administrative support specialist’, you know what you really are; a general dogsbody, somebody to pick up all of the pieces that others sweep by. Still; just getting a position here means you’ve outdone most people, and you hold in your heart the idea that you could get even further up this ladder of success if you simply tried hard enough. You’ve heard tell that even some of the long-life species haven’t managed to make it as far as actually working within the Seat itself, so really . . . you can’t help but feel a little proud of yourself. 

Which is why you choose to ignore the swirling rumour about your esteemed Arbiter-General until you’re called into a meeting with Yong Hai himself. 

(The General is sick, the rumours say. The General may not last another day. The General’s laziness has caught up with him, the General may not make it, and what will we all do then--)

“So,” Yong Hai says, all business. “You’ve probably heard about it already.”

There’s a flare of disquiet in your gut; that the gossip and the rumours you’ve been so steadfastly avoiding are true. You don’t know what the Luofu would do with General Jing Yuan; you cannot imagine the ship and the world without him, when he has been such a stolid presence - and the way that the general public will react doesn’t bear thinking about--

“Stop that,” Yong Hai says, with an amused look in his eye even as he fights to keep his mouth in a firm, commanding line. “It’s not as bad as people are saying. The General has simply . . . contracted something that he isn’t bouncing back as quickly from as we’d hoped. We’ve had to send him off to the Alchemy Commission for a few days, just to see if we can work out how to help . . .” The secretary catches himself, clearly remembering he’s talking to someone who amounts to little more than custodial staff. He coughs. “Anyway. It’s left us in a bit of a conundrum, and after some discussion, we think you’re qualified to handle it.”

You tilt your head to the side as you try and think what you could possibly do to assist in this matter.

You’re no healer; you’re no nurse. You can’t help them figure out how to cure the General, you’re not equipped to sit at his bedside and mop his feverish brow (your cheeks go hot and your face burns at the very thought of it). You certainly can’t take over any of Jing Yuan’s actual duties. The idea of you as any kind of military strategist is laughable--

“How can I help, Sir?” You ask, partly because that is what’s expected of you and partly because you really have no idea what use you’ll be in the situation. 

“Ah,” he says, and then he coughs again - he looks into the corner of the room, as if he’s begging someone to help him, and you remember that he and his sister are most often found together. But here, it’s just the two of you, and he has nobody to help him to break whatever news he’s going to break to you. You hope it’s not going to involve cleaning up a sick-room; you’re really not good with that kind of thing--

“We need somebody to tend to his home affairs,” Yong Hai says, eventually. “He . . . Ah, look, I’m going to come out and say it. General Jing Yuan has a penchant for taking in stray animals and the like, and he only even agreed to let himself be looked at on the caveat we had to promise to find someone to look after them.”

You think of the statues of lions that decorate the place, and you feel a trickle of cold sweat down the back of your spine. You hope desperately that the secretary isn’t implying that you’re about to quite literally be fed to the lions--

“Stop looking like that!” He says, exasperated. “All of them are perfectly tame, and you’ll be in no danger. He has a . . . lion that he’s incredibly fond of. Several birds. And . . . ah,” he looks embarrassed again. “He’s informed us he usually leaves out a veritable feast for any other neighbourhood strays on his balcony, and he was very worried that they weren’t going to be properly nourished whilst he was away.”

Finches. You can do that. Neighbourhood strays - cats and dogs, you suppose - are all very well. But the lion . . .

That doesn’t matter. Yong Hai seems to have reached the end of his meeting with you, to his tangible relief. He’s already bustling about his desk and looking longingly towards the closed door. 

“A new schedule’s been drawn up for you and sent to you already,” he says. “All of the relevant information should be in the attachments! Have fun, won’t you? The General is so very fond of his pets, you see--”

Your phone beeps as if it is punctuating his point; the secretary beams at you, and you get the distinct impression you are being told to put your best foot forward and roll with the punches. ‘Get on with it’, as someone without any manners might say. 

“Understood,” you say, and you force yourself to smile and look on the bright side of things even if you’re sure you’re going to have nightmares about being eaten alive by a lion tonight. This is a post that the General wanted filled personally! This is almost as personal as someone can get to the General, actually; it appears you’ll be working in his actual home! It’s a . . . a step up! A stepping stone!

You force yourself to ignore that it is actually very much a case of sticking the lowest ranked person (and someone well-known for taking on as much as they can with cheerful aplomb, due to your fear of ever really saying ‘no’) onto the job that nobody else wants to do. 

“I’ll do my best,” you say, and Yong Hai beams at you even as he gestures for you to go and get to grips with your new role. 

Well. 

You have no other choice then, really, but to Get On With It. 

You are quite frankly terrified the next day, when you turn up to your newest duty. The documents sent to you had instructed you to pick up raw meat for the lion from the General’s most trusted supplier before you went up to his chambers; apparently, birdseed and cat-and-dog food was kept there, but the lion’s appetite could not so easily be sated. You have to give yourself a pep-talk before all of it; have to convince yourself that running away from this new responsibility would be both awful for your career prospects and terribly cruel.

“Ah,” says the supplier, when you turn up and tremulously hand over your phone so he can see the attachments displayed on the screen giving you this new Meat Power, “So you’re looking after the waifs and strays and Mimi, then?” 

“Mimi?” You ask, your voice tremulous, and he laughs as he hands over two incredibly full buckets of raw meat. It’s a good job you’re not squeamish. 

“That’s the lion,” he says. “The General tried to name her Snow Lion after he realised she wasn’t just going to be a pretty little white housecat, but . . . Mimi fits. You’ll see!”

The concept of Jing Yuan attempting to adopt a pretty little white house cat and being saddled instead with a huge lion, and having to continue to refer to the powerful beast as ‘Mimi’ despite his best efforts, keeps you entertained right up until you’re outside the door to the General’s chambers and you remember that a carnivorous predator awaits you on the other side of it.

“Well,” you say to yourself, hoisting the buckets up and taking a deep breath, “there’s no point delaying the inevitable. If I get eaten today . . .”

And you let the pass-key you’ve been given float against the sensor, until the ornate doors to Jing Yuan’s chambers slowly part and admit you into the Arbiter-General’s inner sanctum. 

The first thing that you’re struck by is how it seems that the General left in a rush. The entire place, whilst not dirty, has an air of untidiness. You hear the cheeping of finches from the first room; excitement that their Master may have finally returned to play with them. You can’t help but feel sorry for them - from what Yong Hai has said, it may be quite a while before Jing Yuan is well enough to return to his home. 

There are touches of the General everywhere, now that you’re looking. Delicate flowers (you’ve heard he likes small, delicate things, and you can’t help the nervous tug at your clothing as you consider just how indelicate you find yourself). Ceramics and porcelain that you fear are so fragile they may shatter even under your gaze. An unfinished game of star chess, a coffee cup left half-drunk . . . That last one could fetch a fine price in the black market. You’ve heard those traders hawking ‘tissues used by Helm Master Yukong’ or even ‘a book enjoyed by General Jing Yuan’s protege!’. 

Before your mind can lead you too far down that dangerous path, though, the lady of the hour appears. 

She’s beautiful. 

You have to stop yourself gasping aloud. Any fears you might have had seem to fall to the wayside, unimportant, compared to the majesty of the lion before you; the pure white fur, the wise face, the mane that fluffs out from her. She’s pure white; lean, but perhaps with a little pouch at the tummy. Not a single snarl or tangle mars her fur, not a single speck of dirt upon her, like the false moon looking down upon the Luofu--

She sees that you’re holding two big buckets and seems to recognise them, because it’s barely a breath before her ears twitch and she pounces like a kitten, seemingly not realising that you are smaller than her owner and she is far larger than the average kitten is. All of the wind is knocked out of you as you cry out her name and are tackled to the ground. 

You find yourself beneath the warmth of her body, a sweet scent emanating from her fur as if the esteemed General regularly bathes and shampoos her. Delighted, she sticks her snout right into one of the buckets. A low, pleased rumble emits from her throat as she works her teeth over the meat--

You reach up, hesitantly, with the one arm that isn’t pinned by the great weight of her. Your fingers hover for a moment, unsure of what to do - is she like a cat? Does she prefer chin scratches or ear scratches?

You settle for a very light pet at the side of her mane, just by her face. Her fur is just as soft as you had thought she would be - a lady who is clearly incredibly spoilt. Well-cared for. You have another flash of a vision of Jing Yuan - combing her mane, tying a shiny ribbon about her neck to match the ribbon he wears in his own hair. 

Mimi pauses in her enjoyment of the food. Your breath catches in your throat, all of your senses on a sudden high alert - what if she didn’t like being touched like that? What if she’s about to mistake your hand for a part of the buffet you’ve brought her?

A moment that seems like an hour passes.

And then she leans into your hand with a pleased rumble-squeak-growl, her eyes closing in pleasure, and despite how your heart is beating and your legs are aching from the way she’s twisted them and trapped them beneath her . . . you smile. 

For the first week, every time you let yourself into Jing Yuan’s space, you are alone aside from the animals he keeps there. Mimi launches herself at you, but you’ve learnt to sidestep and laugh and ruffle her mane, offering her choice little tidbits to curl up and gnaw on her food whilst you see to the strays that congregate on Jing Yuan’s balcony. They had taken a little longer to warm to you, but after the second day when it became clear if they wanted the same food Jing Yuan usually prepared they would have to come to you, they had thawed considerably. You leave them to their devices, and finish off with the finches. 

They hop from place to place in their cage, cheeping brightly. Sometimes they hop onto your finger or your shoulder, looking at you like you’re the most wonderful being in the universe. Once one had hopped onto your head and you’d stayed stock-still for five minutes, afraid of disturbing it. 

After all of the pets and animals are fed, you’ve gotten into the habit of sitting with them for a little while. Curling around Mimi and stroking her mane and her tail (you’ve braided it, actually, and told her how pretty she looks with little red ribbons in her fur as she blinked at you her slow, lazy blinks). Listening to birdsong. Letting the strays rub about your feet and imagining the Arbiter-General himself doing all of these mundane tasks. 

It’s strange, to think of him as so . . . so much a real person. General Jing Yuan has always seemed a man of mystery and just a touch of romance to you; a long life species who has outlived almost everyone he’s ever worked with, who has steered the Luofu into glories and battled bravely and heroically against Abundance abominations for longer than you’ve been alive. The first time you’d met him, when you’d gotten your place at the Seat of Divine Foresight (before you’d quite found out how meagre your duties really were), you’d been utterly tongue-tied. 

He’d been charming, naturally. Smiling and charismatic and low and pleasant-voiced, saying how glad he was to have you aboard and how he hoped you would enjoy your time here. There’d been, perhaps, a flash of sadness in his eye at the knowledge you were a short-life species-- but you’d quickly tried to dispel that notion, scolding yourself for your own romanticism. Jing Yuan is your colleague, your boss - better to not harbour such idealism, to make him into a storybook character instead of a man. 

Still. It’s rather hard to imagine him out of breath, puffing and wheezing, after pulling the bucket Mimi had gotten her paw stuck in off of the silly lion’s foreleg before she sent herself into a panic. 

You think that the menagerie that he keeps in his private quarters have grown fond of you in turn. The task that everyone had seemed to find so onerous quickly becomes one of your favourite parts of the day; there is something to be said about the healing properties to the soul of having a lion roll over to show you her tummy and wiggle enticingly until you give in to her and give her all of the rubs and tickles that she so clearly desires. 

So for about a week and a half, everything chugs along; you fall into routine, and the animals recognise you in turn. They sometimes still crane their necks and heads hopefully around you to see if Jing Yuan is around (Mimi especially occasionally looks dejected at his absence, though her ears perk up once again as soon as she remembers the buckets you come bearing are filled with delicious morsels for her), but when it is just you they still seem somewhat satisfied. 

Nobody gives you any warning that Jing Yuan has returned to his own rooms. 

Which is why you walk into the main room with your buckets swinging on your arms, singing a silly little song you’ve composed for Mimi about how the meat is soon to be ‘delicious and yummy’ in her ‘full-up-tummy’, you’re so surprised to hear a velvet soft chuckle floating from the big circular sofa in the centre of it that you almost drop all of those delicious-and-yummy steaks and thighs all over Jing Yuan’s ornately tiled floor. 

You stare at the sofa, your cheeks going all-over hot, as a mass of blankets moves and shifts and a slightly ruffled pale head emerges from them.

The General himself. 

It’s obvious, looking at him, that he hasn’t been feeling his best. His normally tied up hair falls over his face in unstyled sweeps, there are dark circles beneath his eyes and a sharpness to his cheekbones that you have never noticed before. Instead of the armour you have grown so used to seeing him clad in, he wears civilian clothes; a loose shirt that shows off the lines of his throat, his collarbone. 

Despite all of that, though, he is still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. Your heart still skips a beat. He takes you in for a moment, his face scrunched up as if he is not quite awake; and then, a small smile spreads over his handsome face. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, in that low, musical voice. “I’d like to know where the song has to go, after her tummy has been filled.”

“I’m so sorry,” you blurt out, awkward, nervous, unsure of what to say. “I-- nobody told me you’d be back, I can leave, I didn’t mean to--”

He holds up a lazy hand, the smile still on his face. His eyes are half-lidded, his overall look almost indulgent.

“Please,” he says. “I’m . . . better, but not fully recovered. I’ve been given strict instructions that I'm not to lift heavy objects or do anything more than relax for at least another week. I’d be much obliged - if it’s not too much trouble on top of your own duties, of course - if you could carry on seeing to my . . . what did they call it?” Another small, secret smile. “Ah yes. My little zoo.” 

“I-if you’re sure . . .” You say, surprised to find when you say it aloud that you’re relieved. You truly have gotten attached to all of the animals, even in this short time. 

Mimi butts your leg, impatient for her food, her huge paw petulantly tapping upon the floor. Jing Yuan laughs again, and you feel your stomach clench at the warm sound as it fills the room. 

“Oh, she likes you,” he says, in delight. “I’ve never seen her be so patient with anyone but myself, you know.”

“She’s been friendly since I met her,” you reply, reaching down to scratch her behind her ears and to place the buckets somewhere she won’t make such a mess (though she’s actually a fairly fastidious eater, for someone with no thumbs; you suppose she’s so proud of her lovely white coat that she doesn’t want to risk staining it).

Jing Yuan hums in consideration, his smile not leaving his face, as he watches you pet Mimi and her affectionate head bump before she dives back into her food. As you move into the other sitting room - the one that the finches reside in - you hear more rustling, and as you gather the birdseed you’re surprised to see that Jing Yuan is following you, sloping afterwards determinedly. There’s a definite tilt to his walk - the walk of a man who’s been in bed for a week - and you can’t help but say something.

“Sh-should you be out of bed, General?” You wince at the slight admonishment in your tone, fearing he will think you’re scolding him - but Jing Yuan simply smiles. 

“I need to check on my sweet little charges,” he says. “Come now. I’ve been in bed for days. Let me wander about my own rooms without worrying your pretty head too much about it, alright?”

It takes all of your grace not to turn into a pathetic, embarrassed mess at the easy way he says ‘your pretty head’ - somehow, you manage to keep your composure, keep some measure of poise, even as inside you feel yourself turn to mush. 

He sits down upon a chaise by the birdcages as you reach in to fill the small bowls and scatter the feed, his eyes not leaving you for a second. He smiles when he sees a finch or two hop upon your hand to peck at the seeds and bits left in the crevices of your palm. 

“A true animal whisperer,” he says, watching one of the more inquisitive finches hop up to your wrist and your forearm to tug teasingly at your elbow-length sleeves. “They’re not too fond of strangers, either.”

“I have been feeding them for a week, Sir,” you say to him, with a smile at the finch as you urge it off of your arm and back to the rest of its friends. “They’ve gotten used to me.”

He shakes his head, his hair falling about his shoulders, and you’re struck with the thought that he and Mimi even look similar. You’ve heard the old adage about how pet owners and their pets grow to look the same, of course, but you’d never realised quite how true it was until that moment and the sight of Jing Yuan doing a motion you’ve grown used to Mimi doing. 

He follows, too, as you take food and water onto the balcony. As cats wind around first your ankles, and then his - as dogs wag their tails and lick at your hands. 

“If I were a jealous man . . .” He says, laughing. “They must see something truly special in you.”

“Me?” You ask, aiming for a tinkly laugh but landing on ‘incredulous’. “No, they’re just sweet creatures. All of them are.”

He’s unerringly patient with the animals; his big hands tender as they scratch ears and tickle chins. Seeing the great General being so delicate makes your heart turn over in your chest; his big, scarred hands in direct opposition to the delicate bones and the soft fluff of all of the creatures that mass here. 

“Don’t be so modest,” Jing Yuan says quietly in reply. “I’ve known some of these animals for years. If they didn’t think you were something special . . .” 

Your cheeks are hot again. Somehow, in the course of this conversation, Jing Yuan has gotten closer and closer to you. Out here on the balcony, under the warm false sun of the Luofu, there’s nowhere for Jing Yuan to sit and watch - so he’s stood close to you. Close enough that you can see the warm gold amber of his gaze, the fan of his lashes, the mole high up beneath his eye. You swallow, and the sound is almost indecently loud even with the background mewls and barks and purrs. 

“I’m glad that they found someone so able to do this for me,” he says, his voice still quiet. That single word, those single two syllables, somehow manage to be imbued with more meaning than you’d ever imagined they could be. “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.”

“Just until you’re feeling a bit better,” you reply, cheeks still hot, throat still sore, heart still beating far too fast in your chest. You wonder what Jing Yuan is thinking as he looks down at you - if he has noticed your anxiety, the way that he seems to set you all aflutter. You hope he thinks it is merely because he is your superior, and not because it’s so very hard not to dwell on his looks and his warm voice and the surprisingly different persona that he shows when he’s doing this--

Jing Yuan is still smiling at you, from back on the sofa covered in his blankets with Mimi spread out protectively over his feet, as you foolishly wave goodbye and leave his chambers. 

You get to witness Jing Yuan’s recovery firsthand. The first few days, he is still unsure of his own limbs; he still slowly lopes around the rooms. Once or twice, you come in to feed the animals and he stays wrapped within his blankets, Mimi only leaving his side to demand some cuddles and some meat from you. 

Despite his illness, though, he always has time to talk to you. He always asks you how you are feeling, what you have been doing; he teases you for how the animals seem to recognise you just as well as him now. When one of the finches pecks at your cheek, he chuckles and says;

“Ah, wouldn’t we all like to give our little bird a kiss like that?”

You don’t know how to respond to that, ducking your head, muttering something unintelligible that wins another of his laughs. His words err on the edge of being flirtatious. Once or twice he compliments your outfit, your hair - how lovely you look today. You never know how to react to such things; you force yourself not to dwell on them, reminding yourself of Jing Yuan’s own looks and his position and trying to tell yourself not to get attached and that the General is merely trying to be polite. 

One afternoon, he asks you to sit with him and have tea. 

It would be rude of you to say no; not when he has placed two teacups before him, anticipating your acceptance, a plate of sweet treats in an amount that would be gluttonous even for him arranged with the tea service. So you try and gracefully position yourself across from him. You try and remember your manners as you take the cup by the handle, as you choose the least ornamented and sugary of the delicacies on offer--

(It’s hard not to remember being told not to indulge at all. You feel conscious of eating in front of him--)

“Have this one,” Jing Yuan says, as if he can read your mind, and he pushes towards you an intricately decorated little cake resplendent with sugar roses and ruffles. “It’s one of my favourites.”

Your mouth waters. You give him an embarrassed smile as he encourages you further, reaching over to pick it up himself and place it upon your plate instead of merely pushing it.

“Really?” You ask, trying to pick it up neatly. “It’s a bit more delicate than I thought you’d like. I suppose I imagined you liking things a little rougher--”

Your face goes hot as you realise what you just said, but Jing Yuan ignores the innuendo and simply smiles at you. 

“Ah,” he says. “I like things that are . . . delicate. Smaller than me. So lovely to observe and enjoy, don’t you think?” His gaze doesn’t leave your face. You have never considered yourself delicate - the curves that you display have put an end to that - but under his eyes, you can’t help but think of the breadth of his shoulders and his height and think how a man like him could make even you feel small and breakable. “What do you think?”

The little cake is sweet on the tongue, flavoured with a hint of something you can’t quite name. Your eyes widen in surprise. 

“It’s wonderful,” you tell him, swallowing the bite and enjoying how the taste lingers. “Truly.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” he says - and then, he reaches over the table. “You have something--” 

You go stock-still, embarrassed and shocked at the intimacy of the gesture, as he uses his thumb to wipe a smudge of icing from the corner of your mouth. He keeps your gaze the whole time. It is something a lover does - it is not something you’d ever expected General Jing Yuan to do for you--

“There,” he says, returning to his cake as if nothing has happened. “It would be a terrible shame if I couldn’t see all of your lovely face, after all.” 

He is always saying things like this; off-the-cuff remarks that, if he were not the General of the Xianzhou Luofu, you would interpret as being flirty. He mentions them when you have tea together, when he ropes you into playing a game of star chess (“Don’t think I will go easy on you because you are nice to look at,” he says, as he places the counters into their starting positions), when he watches you and Mimi and you and the finches and tells you that he cannot decide which is cuter. 

You see him get gradually stronger and stronger. No more limping. He is almost always dressed, now. His hair no longer falls in shaggy waves about his face. His dark circles dissipate, his voice getting somehow even deeper and more velvety. 

The unspoken reality that soon, Jing Yuan will be well and you will no longer have to take on this extra duty hangs over your head.

You find that the idea makes you feel sick. You are not only enjoying caring for the animals, now, but you’ve also started to look forward to seeing the General. 

Well.

That’s not quite it.

You have to be honest with yourself, don’t you? 

You’ve developed a crush on him. 

You can’t imagine not seeing him. Not being greeted with Mimi’s butts and her batting paws; not hearing the pleased chirps of his finches whenever they see you. Not enjoying tea with him any more, simply existing in this lazy golden time when you do not have to think about work or his position above you or anything other than the four walls that surround you and the multiple hearts beating within it. 

Jing Yuan brings it up first.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, coughing one day after the two of you have played a game of star chess that you were thoroughly destroyed during. “Well. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m getting better.”

“I’m glad to see it, Sir,” you say, forcing a smile to your face even as your heart falls into the region of your feet. “We were all very worried about you. Everyone is always asking me how you are and when you’ll be returning to work--”

His face clouds, a flinch so quick you almost miss it.

“Yes,” he says, a mournful tone to his voice. “I’ll soon be returning to work.”

You tell yourself sternly not to cry. This was never supposed to be permanent. 

“Then I suppose you won’t need me any longer,” you say, forcing a smile on your face. You are going to be gracious if it kills you.

“Ah,” Jing Yuan replies. “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about. I . . . we are all very fond of you, you see.” He motions to Mimi, who has come to curl beside you, her head laid against your knee. “I fear Mimi will riot if you were to stop bringing her all of those steaks, you understand. And who knows what she’d do, deprived of your song about her tummy?”

You squeak in embarrassment. Mimi lifts her head and gives you a slow, displeased look, much to Jing Yuan’s amusement. 

“Well. I’m very aware that it’s not part of your duties, and I’d be willing of course to pay you more for all of the trouble, but--” 

You see Jing Yuan falter for one of the first times; as if he is afraid that you are about to reject him outright. He coughs, trying to hide his anxiety, but it is an emotion you’re intimately familiar with and as such you recognise it for what it is. 

“We’re all so very fond of you,” he repeats. “Won’t you keep coming?”

You barely leave a breath before you’re happily agreeing. 

It’s not quite the same. 

You knew it wouldn’t be; you knew that you wouldn’t see Jing Yuan anywhere near as often, as he resumed all of the many duties that the Arbiter-General has to take on. Despite how unenthused he had seemed to be returning to his work, you knew that Jing Yuan took his responsibilities terribly seriously). 

Still.

You had thought you might see him more. Might still be able to drink a cup of tea with him, even if it could not be the same kind of slow, languid time the two of you had taken over it before. You’d thought that there’d still be time for a conversation or two. 

The reality is that you almost never see the General now. 

At work, your paths had crossed only rarely; now, hyper-aware of his presence, you realise that you see him almost never. Not at work, and not at his own home. 

You’re still excited to see the animals - for the finches to happily chirp at you as if they’re telling you about their day. One of them rides about on your shoulder, now, even when you go out to feed the strays. You’re still excited to tell Mimi what a good girl she is and rub her tummy and play with her (she’s inordinately fond of ribbons and the chasing thereof, like an overgrown housecat). 

But without Jing Yuan there . . .

There’s something missing. 

You still do your duties as well as you can - Jing Yuan has negotiated a hefty raise for you, all things considered - but you can’t help sometimes leaving his home feeling a little empty at the lack of seeing the General. You can’t help being disconsolate as you think about him - as you remember his flirty little asides, the way he’d looked at you across the room, the smile that played across his mouth whenever he did. You know he couldn’t really be interested in you, that he was probably like that with most people - but a secret little flame cannot help but burn in your heart even so. 

Days pass, quiet, lonely. You work, and feed the animals, and go home to your own empty quarters. You work, feed, go home, work, feed, go home--

Until one evening, when you’re just about to leave Jing Yuan’s chambers, when the door opens and the General appears. He looks a little red in the face; his breath comes in short little pants. You’ve never seen him so obviously flustered; usually, Jing Yuan fits perfectly up to his reputation as the Drowsy General. 

“Are you alright?” You ask him, rushing over. You’re touching him before you’ve thought through consequences; finger hovering over his pulse point, reaching up to feel his forehead to make sure he’s not running a temperature. Through the panting, he looks at you and smiles. 

“I’m afraid,” he says, still breathing heavily, his voice rasping. “I made up a little lie to be able to get back here on an errand that doesn’t really exist.”

“General,” you scold him. It’s not like him to shirk responsibilities. He laughs. 

“Yes, yes, I know, little thing-- but I had to see you. I wanted to see you again.”

You think he’s misspoken.

“I have to get back,” he says, and he reaches down - his hands upon your cheek again. You don’t know how to reply, what to say, what is going on. All you know is that you are there, and Jing Yuan is there, and something is happening. Fizzing on the air is a promise that something is going to change. “But . . . I couldn’t-- I needed to finally--”

Jing Yuan kisses you. 

It’s a kiss as messy and rushed as he is right now. A kiss that says that he has to hurry back, despite how much he doesn’t want to. You, unused to being kissed and even more unused to being kissed by handsome military leaders who feel a hundred times out of your league, do not kiss him back. He’s messy and wet, and his teeth clash against your lips as you stand there, feeling foolish and wrong-footed.

He realises you’re not kissing him back, and he stops - he draws back, his eyebrows furrowed. He opens his mouth to speak. 

He’s going to say it was a mistake, you realise. He’s going to say he thought you were someone else, that he was carried away in the heat of the moment. You and Jing Yuan? No. It couldn’t be. It’s absurd, it’s silly, nobody could ever believe it - and yet.

And yet.

Your heart couldn’t take his rejection.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out - and you push past him and out of the door and back towards the comforting ordinary normality of your own empty rooms. 

Despite your embarrassment, fear and all of those other emotions keeping you up all night, when you wake up the next morning you know that things will be worse the more you put them off. So you get dressed for work and you thank Lan that, when you walk into the Seat of Divine Foresight, Jing Yuan is nowhere to be seen. 

You hope he is hard at work, far away from you. You cannot quite face him yet. You haven’t properly said goodbye to your foolish dreams. 

You can’t shirk your other duties either, so at the ordinary time you stand up from your desk (you’ve somehow been saddled with the job of reviewing paperwork for grammar inconsistencies. You feel certain there ought to be software of some sort that does this job for you, but it had been laid here on your desk when you’d gotten to it and you were not in the habit of arguing about your duties), and you head to the designated supplier of raw meats for Mimi’s consumption.

“Oh,” says the supplier, the evening after Jing Yuan had finagled a way to see you. “He told me to let you know to go straight up today.” 

You frown, not quite sure why; you hope Mimi is alright. It feels strange to be going towards Jing Yuan’s home without your arms weighed down with buckets of meat, but you push forward even so. You hope last night - the awkward kiss, the way he had looked at you - does not sour things between the two of you. You hope that he isn’t about to tell you to never come back. Your heart makes a new home, somewhere in the vicinity of your throat, as you hesitantly knock upon his door.

A beat passes. Your mind helpfully provides you with all of the ways in which Jing Yuan could be about to fire you - or worse, let you down gently and admit that he had a moment of weakness. In that moment, you suddenly seem so much more aware than before of yourself - of the unfashionable curves, of the amount of space you take up, of how a man like Jing Yuan could surely not have really wanted to kiss someone like you - and then, he has opened the door and he is smiling at you and he doesn’t look angry.

Instead, upon seeing you there, a smile passes across his face; tugs at the corners of his lips, crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he says to you - and he reaches across the threshold and his hand brushes your cheek, as soft and tender with you as he is with his finches. “I’m sorry if I frightened you last night.”

“I’m sorry I ran,” tumbles out of your mouth. “I just . . . I didn’t think you-- and somebody like me-- and I was afraid--”

He lays a finger over your lips, still smiling. 

“It’s alright,” he says, in that low, smooth voice. “I’m sorry if I caused you undue trouble, little bird.” The pet name falls from his lips as easily as any other trifle, though it makes you feel hot and aware of yourself and flattered all at once. “Please come in.”

He takes your hand to gently urge you across the threshold, his touch still feather light. You think, as he does it, of all of the other things those hands have done; all of the battles they have waged, all of the strength that must be contained within them despite how gentle his touch is now. 

“I’ve asked someone else to take care of the animals,” he says to you, not letting go of your hand as he leads you through the front room. You realise with a start exactly where he is taking you as he approaches a door you have never had reason to open before. He looks at you, eyes keen and golden. “I wanted us to be alone. I would hope, little bird, if you do not want this . . .” 

“I do,” tumbles from your mouth. It is nothing but the honest truth. You let the crush that you’ve been trying to deny, the fear of Jing Yuan not liking you or finding you attractive, the anxieties of not being good enough, all wash over you, in favour of the beating of your heart and the feel of his hand on your face and the sight of his hand upon the doorknob of his bedroom. 

He turns fully so he stands before you. Hands come up, cradling your face; thumbs brushing the plump apples of your cheek, fingertips upon the soft flesh. He is smiling still, even as he dips his head lower, so low you can see the multitudes of swirling shades of gold in his eyes. 

“Promise me,” he murmurs, low and soft. “Tell me you want me the way I want you. No expectations, little one. Your career, your position, your everything - nothing will change if you do not want me as badly as I desire you. Honesty.” You realise a tear has escaped from the corner of your eye. You have never felt so . . . seen. So very much wanted. So sure of anything in your life. He wipes that tear with his thumb, tilting your face closer to him so that if you just angled your head differently you could kiss him. “Promise me.” 

“I promise,” you whisper, and Jing Yuan’s lips meet yours. 

This kiss is entirely unlike the one from yesterday; this kiss is slow, luxurious. Jing Yuan starts off gentle with you, his hand still cupping your jaw - his lips moving against yours in slow, indolent waves. He nips at your bottom lip with his teeth and wins a gasp from you, a hitch of your breath, as your own hands come up to rest lightly upon his chest. You feel his mouth curve into a smile against your own. 

“You’re adorable,” he rumbles, pulling back just enough that you can still feel his breath on your face. “Truly - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you.”

“I--” You helplessly stare up at him. You can barely believe this is happening, as he pushes open the door to his most private of domains. “Really?”

He laughs again, gently taking your arm and urging you into the room. You are helpless to do anything but follow him - to let him slowly, slowly, slowly pull you beside him and onto his bed. 

“You really have no idea how . . . desirable you are?” He asks, voice low and husky, humming with want. His hand skims over your cheek, the nape of your neck, following the line of your jaw and your throat to linger over your collarbone. His eyes follow the path his fingers take, not moving from your form for an instant. “You really didn’t notice me staring at you, little bird?” He leans in, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. His lips brush over the pulse point in your neck, making you squeak in surprise again even as it sends a bolt of heat to the space between your legs. “Imagining what you would feel like under my hands? Imagining what you would look like, divested of that maddeningly conservative uniform they make you wear?” Another kiss, this one with a hint of teeth. You realise with a hot flush of embarrassment mixed with want you have cried out at the sensation of the almost-bite. “Imagining how you would react to every touch I gave you?” 

“Sir,” you pant, dazed and amazed and hot and needy. “I-- I thought about you, too--”

“Oh,” he murmurs, as his big fingers slide over your body, feeling the ample shape of you through that same conservative uniform. His big palms brush the soft chub of your upper arms, the meat of your chest, the shape of your waist and over the curve of your hips, basely appreciating your body even beneath the fabric. “I’m sure they were no match for the utterly filthy things I imagined doing to you.” 

His thumb digs into the indent of your waist, tugging you closer to him so that you’re pressed tighter against his body. He smiles down at you, every inch the conquering general, and your heart beats in time with the pounding between your legs. He looks at you like he wants to devour you. Wanting and hungry and lustful, like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever seen. It’s not a look you’re overly familiar with receiving - but oh, does it feel amazing to be on the receiving end of it from Jing Yuan. 

“Such a fragile thing,” he murmurs down to you, and you almost laugh, for you do not feel fragile - but Jing Yuan continues speaking, and you get lost in the dulcet tone of his voice. “So very mortal. So very ephemeral . . .” He sighs, dips his head and kisses you again, a flurry of pecks upon your lips as his thumb draws circles where it rests. “Will you let me make the most of having you, little bird? Let me show you how beautiful you are?” He smiles. “I have always had a weakness for delicate things.” 

He means it. 

Any time you have ever felt too big; ungainly, or ill-shaped - all of it falls to the wayside under the warm haze of being looked at and admired and wanted by Jing Yuan. You find yourself smiling up at him, aware you probably look as though there is not a thought in your head, but the General doesn’t seem to mind as he looks at you with hunger colouring his gaze. 

“May I undress you?” He asks, voice low and cajoling. His fingers tease beneath the neckline of your uniform, and it feels as though they leave a trail of fire everywhere they linger. You do not trust yourself to speak; you nod at him, your breath coming out in short little pants. He makes a soft noise of approval, before his fingers are working at buttons and fabric. Cool air hits your bare skin; your uniform is gently cajoled off of your body, tossed aside to be worried about later as Jing Yuan’s hungry eyes drink in every new inch of your exposed skin. 

He does not stop praising you as he does it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, as your top half is bared, as his eyes roam over your chest and his hands come up and squeeze the generous curve of them, palms rough against delicate skin. You shiver as his thumbs find your nipples, as they rub over them again and again until the buds stiffen beneath his touch and a soft whine escapes the back of your throat. “You’re beautiful.”

His tone is nothing if not worshipful. By slow, luxurious degrees, Jing Yuan helps divest you of your garments. As your underwear and bottoms are rolled down, as fabric bunches at thighs and knees, he does not stop murmuring sweet nothings about how soft you are, how beautiful, how lucky he is to be able to see you like this. 

About how he has been thinking about having you like this since the moment he saw you. 

“You looked so beautiful then too,” he murmurs, as your underwear is pulled from your ankles. He briefly gazes at it, the gusset saturated with your slick, and he smiles. “Ah . . . that little song, the nervous, shy reaction to realising I was there - the sight of you all soft-eyed and adoring with Mimi . . . I’ve never wanted to have my wicked way with somebody quite so much.” 

You’re bare beneath him, Jing Yuan slowly urging you to lay down upon the coverlets of his large bed. You suppose that it’s so large so that if Mimi desires to sleep with him, she can, but it alongside Jing Yuan’s own size simply helps you feel small and delicate and breakable in a way you never have before. 

“I wanted to know,” Jing Yuan murmurs, leaning down and brushing his lips over yours, teasing and feather-light. “If you would be quite so adorable, squirming and nervous and vulnerable, if I were to have you like this.”

Your cheeks are hot. Jing Yuan has not lost a single garment of his own, but you are entirely unguarded to whatever he wants to do to you now - bare of every scrap of fabric. His gaze lingering on your body almost makes you want to draw in; to curl around the exposed flesh of your stomach, to cover the pudge. 

Jing Yuan notices something in the way you hold yourself. He smiles down at you and cups your cheek.

“Don’t hide,” he breathes. “I want to see all of you, little thing. I want you to know how beautiful I find you.”

“I--”

He takes your hand in his, shifting so he is on his knees between your legs. Gently, he guides your unsure hand to the space over his own crotch. Even through the layers of fabric, you can sense the heat of him; the stiffness pushing against his trousers.

“If I did not want you,” he says, “why would you make me so needy, hmm? Feel what you do to me.” He presses your hand a little harder against it, a soft hiss of breath escaping him, encouraging you to not simply take his word for it. Your face hot as ever, you do so; give a gentle squeeze that makes him groan. “Ah-- be careful, sweet thing. I want to take my time over you.”

He lets go of your hand, gently urging you to place it back beside you. Your fingers find purchase in his sheets. You still cannot quite believe where you are; that it’s the great Arbiter-General leaning over you, looking down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing that he’s ever seen. 

“I-it’s not fair,” you say to him, your voice dry. “I’ve lost all of my clothes, and you’re still fully dressed--”

He chuckles. This time, when he bends down, there’s a slow, deliberate quality about him. He kisses your neck again; trails wet butterfly kisses over your collarbones, lower and lower to the swell of your chest. His hands come to cup the generous weight of them, even as his mouth floats closer and closer to your nipples, tightening and stiffening in anticipation. 

“I told you,” he says, murmuring in between flicks of his tongue against the buds. “I want to take my time over you.” He looks at you, eyes half-lidded. “Ah, you short-life species . . . You never learn patience. I have all of the time in the world to give you ecstasy over and over--”

People call Jing Yuan the Dozing General. As he applies his tongue to your nipples, though - as he suckles and nips and bites, as he kisses and squeezes until you feel dizzy with the attention he’s lavishing upon you, you realise that they are misinformed. Jing Yuan is not lazy or dozing - Jing Yuan merely likes to take his time over things. 

And oh, is he enjoying taking his time over you. 

You whine under his touch. You whimper and squirm, your cheeks flooding hot, your entire body prickling with tension and pleasure as his attentions upon your nipples send shockwaves of pleasure down to your sex. You feel wetness fair seeping out of you; slick rolling down your thighs, making a mess of Jing Yuan’s bed sheets. 

“Please,” you manage to get out, dry-voiced and wanting, after what seems like an eternity. “Please, Sir--”

“Jing Yuan,” He corrects you, a smile on his face as he continues to trail wet kisses over your bare skin. “What kind of man would I be if I allowed you to call me ‘Sir’ buried knuckle-deep in you, sweet thing? We are on even ground here.”

It’s hard not to think of him as the General. You are currently barely able to string a thought together, and he hasn’t even touched the place between your thighs yet. Still - you need him to touch you somewhere else. You need his attentions to give your chest a break (your nipples are sore, stiffened points - your skin slick with the wetness of his licks and kisses) and move to somewhere else. You force out, through your desire to genuflect to his status, his given name.

“Jing Yuan--”

“Hmm?” He asks, raising his head. His lips are swollen and pink, his eyes amused. “Do you need something, little bird?”

“Please . . .” A soft exhale, trying to work through the mass of sensations and needs that your body seems to have become. Jing Yuan does not stop touching even as you try and get out your words; still gently squeezing and toying with the weight of your chests. He’s smiling, enjoying watching you desperately work through the haze of your desire. 

“Your words,” he says, a maddening smile pulling at his lips. “Tell me what you want, and I promise I’ll do all in my power to give you it.”

“Please,” you say again, your brain fuzzy. His hands move from your chest now; big palms travelling over the curve of your stomach, your hips, resting there in a way that makes you almost lose all of your senses. “I want you to touch me . . . there--”

“Where, little thing?” He’s still smiling. “Here?” A gentle squeeze to your hips. “Here?” His palm roves over your stomach, the soft pouch just above your mound. You whimper again. “Ah. Come now--”

“Between my legs,” you whisper, voice tight and breaking with desire. “Jing Yuan, please--”

“Ah,” he laughs, dips down and kisses you once on the mouth. “You need only to ask. Spread your thighs for me, lovely thing.”

You do, utterly helplessly. Jing Yuan sighs reverently, moving further down so that he can bend his head to look at you. Your face burns under his scrutiny, fearful that he will find something lacking in your body even as his eyes greedily drink you in like you are the finest wine. He breathes deeply, and you hope that your scent is not off-putting - and then, his fingers are sliding slowly and surely up the soft plush of your legs and closer and closer to the space between your thighs and your heart is beating too fast and your breath is coming in short pants.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, and you keen as his hands reach your sex; as he uses his thumbs to spread the plump lips of your labia apart and the cool air hits your slick, heated core. “Ah, darling . . .”

There is so much in those two syllables. Hunger and desire and adoration, all mixed together as one. In another world, with another person, it might have made you feel self-conscious; but Jing Yuan looks down at you as if you are the most beautiful treasure he has ever had the good fortune to witness. 

He leans down, down - and you squeak as you realise what he’s about to do, surprised, but it does not deter him at all as he lets his tongue take a slow, luxurious lick down your sex. The base of his tongue presses against your clit, the pressure on the swollen hitherto ignored nub almost enough to make you come right there and then - but then he pulls back again, chuckling.

“Mm,” he says. “If I allow myself to sample too much of something so sweet, I’m afraid I’ll lose my composure.” He moves his hand instead; lets his fingers explore the length of you, fingertips brushing against your clenching entrance and dancing about your swollen clit. There is little pressure exerted on your sex; merely Jing Yuan’s slow, considering explorations. You clench your own fingers into the bedsheets in order to stop yourself writhing. 

“Lovely,” Jing Yuan says to himself. “Ah, you feel like velvet. Such a pretty thing; so perfectly made . . .” He sighs, even as the tip of his longest finger nudges against your entrance. Your hips move of their own accord, trying to suck him in and get him to put his finger inside of you, but he clicks his tongue with an amused chide; “Impatient,” he says. “Ah. You’re lucky you’re so irresistible--”

He slides his finger inside of you, slowly but certainly. You sigh, your lashes fluttering closed - his touch stokes all of those fires inside of you, of course, burning to fever pitch . . . but the sensation of finally having something inside of you has also made you realise how empty you felt before. It feels good, to have something to fill that pulsing space. Jing Yuan watches with rapt attention as he slides his finger half out, and then half inside of you again. 

You have had some experience, but you have never felt the way Jing Yuan makes you feel. 

“You take it so well,” he murmurs. “Look how pretty you look with something inside of you. Ah. I could spend hours doing this to you . . .”

You make a soft whine of discontent at the idea and he laughs, clicking his tongue even as he’s letting his second finger dance at your entrance ready to join the first. 

“No, even I do not have the patience for that right now,” he agrees. “Not when you feel so wonderful, little bird. Not when I cannot wait to see you come apart.”

The second finger; a slight scissoring motion as it enters you, getting you used to the size and stretch of two of his digits instead of one. The heel of his palm presses against your clit with every wet pump, sending frissons of pleasure to the tips of your toes; but he still does not rush himself. He still lets himself enjoy the feel of you clinging tightly to his fingers, the sight of them disappearing inside of your slick, drooling hole. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks you, deciding you haven’t spoken recently enough. “Tell me if you want me to go faster, sweet thing--”

“Please,” you say, ragged, breathing heavy. You can feel a tight hot ball of tension between your legs, rolling in your gut, threatening to overwhelm you. “Please, Jing Yuan, faster--”

“Very well,” he smiles, and he crooks his fingers inside of you to find your g-spot - causing your back to arch involuntarily, a whine of pure enjoyment to loose itself from your throat. At the same time, his thumb moves to play with your clit - to toy with the bud, to roll and to circle and to press against the swollen bundle of nerves. What already felt like electric shocks of pleasure move on; instead, they are lightning bolts, ricocheting up your spine and stopping just short of striking earth. 

“You’re close,” Jing Yuan says, and you are staring at his mouth. How a strand of your own gossamer-thin arousal is still glimmering at the corner. How his eyes are so focused on you that his gaze feels almost scorching. “That’s right. Let go for me, sweet thing--”

His soft entreaty pushes you over the edge, and the lightning strikes home as your peak hits you with all of the force of a storm.

His fingers work you over the crest of your orgasm, the two inside of you constantly rubbing against that spongy spot that makes you see stars, the big pad of his thumb roughly sliding over your twitching clit in circles and lines. As the waves come to a head and then slowly begin to dissipate, he slows his attentions too - until the slow strokes of his fingers fade out into nothing. He does not seem to care that you’ve soaked his fingers and his palm and the fabric he wears and his bed too - merely keeps looking at you, smiling, like you’re giving him the most precious gift imaginable. 

“Good,” he praises you. “But . . . I’m afraid that just that taste from earlier wasn’t quite enough, little bird. May I use my mouth on you?”

Who would ever believe this? Who would ever imagine little old you, on the Arbiter-General’s bed, as he looks at you and waits for your permission to fuck you with his tongue? You feel rather tongue-tied yourself - but you recall what Jing Yuan said earlier, about using your words.

“Please do,” you say, aloud, and Jing Yuan gives you that same smile that makes you feel like the only being in the whole universe.

“Thank you,” he says, sounding entirely like he means it - like it’s truly an honour for him to be able to serve you on his hands and knees. And then he has moved his body further down the bed, elegant and graceful and leonine, and his mouth is heading towards the slick-soaked place between your legs and his tongue is glinting wet in the bedroom and then he is on you, licking at you, hungrily devouring your sex like it is his last meal before an execution. 

You’re still oversensitive from his earlier attentions, and the sensation of the wet muscle of his tongue working over you almost pushed you into another early orgasm. Your fingers move from where they’re still clenched into the bedsheets to cling to his hair instead, pulling on the silvery pale strands as your back arches and you blindly cant your hips forward towards his mouth.

He groans aloud at having his hair pulled, and the groan sends vibrations all through your body that make you feel weak at the knees, your toes curling. His tongue continues its assault; back and forth, back and forth. Wetness drools from your sex and onto his face; you can feel the heat in his cheeks, the fan of his lashes against your bare skin. 

He twirls his tongue about your entrance, teasingly dips into it, as the channel of your sex constricts and pulses in an attempt to pull him even further in. He groans as your hands knit further into his hair, fucking you for a moment with his tongue before he seems to try and work his face further into your sex. 

It’s like he wants to engulf you; soft noises of pleasure keep falling from his mouth, interspersed with rumbling groans. He’s almost gyrating against the bed, you realise, your cheeks hot - grinding his crotch into the mattress as if he’s desperate to have some attention of his own. 

That sight makes your mouth go dry; all of the moisture in your body instead congregating between your legs to make a new home in Jing Yuan’s mouth and smeared across his cheeks. 

His tongue flicks across your clit and the noise that escapes you is almost animal; Jing Yuan says something, perhaps, or at least makes some kind of muffled noise from his position happily buried in your sex before he shifts his tongue just so and his mouth fastens around your clit fully. 

Sucking and licking, suckling upon the pearl like his life depends upon it; tongue occasionally just brushing under the hood, where you’re most engorged, and you can do nothing but cling onto his hair and pull at it as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt rips through your body.

You cannot put into words the way that you feel as Jing Yuan devours you. Your entire body feels, suddenly, as if it weighs nothing; as if sparkling lights suffuse your fingers and toes and you float into the stratosphere, white lights dancing behind your eyes in time with your whine (a whine so loud you’re sure everybody on the Luofu must have heard of it).

You come down, eventually, to the sound of Jing Yuan panting. The wet noise as his mouth separates from you, the pleased grin on his face as he uses his thumb to wipe his mouth of some of your slick. It’s a pointless endeavour, really; his face is so saturated with it you’re not sure if he’ll ever be dry again. 

“Darling,” Jing Yuan repeats, looking you in the eye, smiling like the cat who has gotten the cream. “You have no idea how much I enjoyed doing that.”

The words almost make you go over shy - but you push that to the side. There is no point, you decide, being nervous of a man who has now known you so intimately.

“In which case,” you say, breathlessly - your voice is still a little scratchy from the moaning and whimpering you’ve been doing - “Will you let me make you feel just as good?”

He looks at you for a moment, before he throws his head back and laughs.

“Why,” he says. “Of course I will.”

“Come,” Jing Yuan is murmuring, and he is finally removing his own clothes. Armour drops to the side of him, shirts unbuttoned and fastenings unhooked. His body is muscular and dotted with scars, befitting his status as a military hero; a light dusting of pale hair upon his proud chest, down into a trail to the vee of his hips. You swallow, your throat dry, trying to blink back the waves of pleasure that are still lapping gently at your shores in order to concentrate on what’s going on. His face is still wet with your slick, his hair damp with sweat and falling in messy strands over his flushed face. He looks well-fucked even without you touching him back, as if merely getting you to feel good was enough for him. 

His cock. It’s stiff against the hard planes of his abdomen, a thick, pretty specimen bubbling with precome at the flushed tip. He sighs, running his hand over it once, and your mouth practically waters at the way it twitches. It looks stiff and hard enough that you wonder if it hurts, to want so badly - but Jing Yuan looks at you and smiles, as he rearranges himself on the bed. Pillows are moved, and before you know it he has sat against them, propping himself up like an emperor upon his throne. His cock stands proud and wanting, and he gently pats his thigh as if he is calling an obedient animal to him.

“I don’t wish to hurt you, little bird,” he says - and again, you think of how it feels to be smaller than him. How he does not care about the flesh that spills from straps or curves over fabric. How he looks at you like the most beautiful thing in the world and calls you ‘delicate’ and ‘little’ and ‘precious’ and means them. “Come. Take a seat. As slowly as you need.” 

Despite how he has seen you so intimately, you cannot help but feel a little flare of fear as you approach him. He smiles, entirely at peace and at comfort with you going at your own pace, and you could kiss him for it.

“Touch,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid.”

With trembling fingers, you reach out; let your hand encircle his cock, get used to the width and the feel of him and imagine it inside of you. He pulses beneath your palm, a soft hum of pleasure falling from the back of his throat as you give it a cursory pump. He curses softly as your thumb rubs across the slit of his cockhead, the bubble of precome wetting the pad.

“Touch,” he says, with a smile. “But don’t get me too excited, little bird. I don’t want to come anywhere but inside of you.”

Your cheeks go hot at his easy profession; your tongue darts out to trace your lower lip. You’re used to the feel of him now; the heat that seems to stir beneath the surface of his cock, the veins that marble the side of his shaft, the ruddy pink of the head. Taking a deep breath, you spread your legs and let yourself readjust, straddling him. His own hands come up to cling to your thighs, sinking into the soft flesh there.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, as if in devotion, as if praying to an Aeon. “You’re beautiful.” 

His cockhead brushes your clit as you fit it snugly between the lips of your sex; you shift your hips, until it catches against your entrance and your eyes flutter closed. 

Your eyes are still closed as you begin to lower yourself down, so you feel every inch of him as he makes his home within your body. Your eyes being closed, of course, you miss the softness and the warmth that fills Jing Yuan’s gaze as he looks at you. The brief moment of sadness that passes behind his eyes as he remembers that you are a short-life species; that he cannot have all of the time in the world with you, to teach you pleasures the likes of which you do not yet know. The sadness he cannot spend his lifetime learning you by heart--

But you hear the soft murmur of your name, as he bottoms out inside of you and you take a moment to simply rest there with him buried as deep inside of you as he can go. You feel the way one of his hands slides up your spine to grip the back of your head and to pull you into a kiss as deep and adoring as anything else he’s done so far. 

Teeth and tongue and lips, whimpering and gasping into one another’s mouths until you do not know where he ends and where you begin, Jing Yuan somehow manages to murmur;

“Move whenever you want, sweet thing. Set the pace.” 

It does not, in the end, feel like either of those things happen. Instead, it feels as though the universe sets the pace for you; as if you simply know when to begin to move your hips, how to bend and angle yourself just so in order for Jing Yuan to hit all of the most sensitive spots inside of you.

One hand remains on your hip, helping you with the pace - the other remains on the back of your head, to allow him to kiss, as if he doesn’t want to let his mouth separate from yours for any longer than necessary. It’s a romance that you didn’t expect of the General, but it’s hardly one you’re going to complain about when his mouth feels so good and the constant nibbling of your lip and curl of his tongue against yours is distracting you from the mounting pleasure already starting to coalesce inside of you. 

There is nothing in the world for a while except Jing Yuan’s body underneath yours. His hands, his mouth, the feel of his shoulders beneath your own palms where you cling to him for leverage. You sweat and breathe and kiss and fuck as one, until the call inside of you becomes too much to ignore.

“I’m--” You pull back from the kiss to whisper, voice hoarse. “I’m going to--”

“Shh,” Jing Yuan says, kissing again. His own voice climbs in pitch, and you hear a shiver and a shudder in his syllables that makes you aware that he, too, is not far from his own release. His teeth nip at your lower lip as he half-begs into your mouth. “Please. Come again for me, sweet thing, little bird, pretty-- let me feel you--”

Your third orgasm crashes over you, your sex spasming around his cock, tight and hot and pulsing - and Jing Yuan groans into your mouth as you push him over the edge too, and you feel his cock spasm in turn. Ropes of hot release shoot inside of you; you had thought, earlier, that having his cock buried all the way inside of you was the extent of how full you could feel. 

You were wrong.

You bite at his lips, whining and half-sobbing, as the please encompasses you like a cloak of warmth. Jing Yuan groans in return, his hips making needy fast circles to chase the dregs of his own release. It feels right, for the two of you to peak together like this. For the two of you to chase every last drop of pleasure, entwined together and sweating and kissing and as close to one being as it’s possible to be.

Eventually, your breathing slows. Eventually, the kiss turns tender instead of frenzied. Eventually, you pull back from Jing Yuan with a foolish smile on your face and your cheeks hot and tears of pleasure (that you hadn’t even realised you had cried) rolling down your face like sparkling diamonds.

You stare at each other, the enormity of what has happened washing over you. Jing Yuan’s face is calm and serene, but his eyes are bright still, his cheeks still high in colour. 

You fear for a moment that he is about to dismiss you; that what the two of you just shared will mean nothing now that it is over. You fear that you’re about to go back to what you were before; a colleague and an employer, a General and a subordinate. But then, Jing Yuan lets out a deep rumbling sigh, pleased, as he collapses back upon the pillows. He opens his arms for you to dismount, his cock sliding slippery and wet outside of you, his come trickling down your thighs.

“Come here,” he murmurs, sounding tired but terribly pleased; the cat who has gotten the cream. He’s like a lion once more. You are helpless to resist his indication that he wants to cuddle, and so you let him pull you into his arms, let him manoeuvre you to lay against his chest until you can hear his heart beating. His fingers stroke your head, like you’re a sweet-tempered animal yourself. “Mmm. Rest with me, little bird.”

You let yourself. Your body is aching and sore from the orgasms and the sex, and you let your eyes drift closed, lulled by the comforting rhythm of his breathing. 

A sleepy kiss is dropped onto the crown of your head.

“Enjoy it whilst you can,” Jing Yuan hums. “Before we start having to make room for Mimi every night.”

#writing #not sfw text #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x reader #chubby reader posting #commissioned work #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr posting

[imsilay]

How about König rescuing his obsession from an abusive boyfriend and then claiming her while he watches helpless?

LATIBULE

mdni, cw: abuse, cursing, hair pulling, punching, beating, broken bones? (idk im terrible at tagging :/ )

word count: 0.8k

i’m gonna make pt.2 :) edit: POSTED! here

cr: paldedpul on twt (i’m not sure)

Your cheek burned and you gasped with pain when your boyfriend hit you across the face. “You fucking slut. You’re no good for anything.” he hissed and grabbed a fistful of your hair. He yanked it back and caused so much pain that your mouth fall agape. You tried to reach his hand and push him away from your hair but he didn’t gave you time to reach. Another hand found your throat and he pinned your back against his chest, pulling your hair and squeezing the oxygen out of your lungs. All you could do was squirm and cry. You felt so pathetic, helpless. The man you loved was taking his anger out on you because things didn’t go as he wanted.

At the time you thought everything was over, the door broke open. Your boyfriend’s head snapped towards the door and his grip loosened. Your body fell down and you coughed, gasping for air. Before you could process what was going on, your boyfriend’s body fall next to you with a loud thud. Then someone sat on his stomach and punched him in the face, hard, so hard that you heard his jaw break. The man didn’t stop. He was furious. How could that bastard hit his little one? How could he hurt you while König was afraid to touch your hair? Who did he think he is? The only reason König let him to be with you was the smile on your face when you talked about him. And yet, that bastard was here, hurting his little one. A deadly mistake. Punch after punch, König mercilessly hit your boyfriend’s face without caring about his pleading.

“‘m gonna break your bones until you pass out from the pain. Then i will do it again, again and again. Until there’s no broken bone in your body. Arschloch.” König hissed. Then he grabbed him by the collar and pulled his body up, as if he was a bag of potatoes. König threw him in the chair, his face was covered in blood and he was groaning in pain. “But first…” König forced himself to look at you. His heart ached as he saw your tears. That was the last thing you deserved. He just wanted to snap that stupid boyfriend’s -not anymore, now he was a living dead- neck. “Beg forgiveness from meine Königin.” (My queen.) König grabbed his hair and pulled his head up to face you. Your boyfriend was crying and begging for forgiveness from you for half an hour. Whenever you tried to say it was enough, König pulled his hair harder and forced him to beg with a broken jaw some more. It was just the beginning of the endless pain Konig would cause him.

After he decided it was enough, Konig tied him down to the chair and walked to you. With his hands covered in your ex’s blood and trembling uncontrollably, König fell on his knees and embraced your body tightly, until every centimeter of your body was covered by his massive frame. "Don't cry." he mumbled like it was hurting him physically to see you in pain. "What that arschloch did to you?" He kissed the top of your head and caressed your hair with his trembling hand. He was so afraid to touch you, you barely felt the hand on your hair. "It hurt." you sobbed. As your cries increased, you clung to his body, burying your head into his neck and wetting his t-shirt with your tears - he hugged you tighter. “Meine Königin…” he whimpered like an injured animal. “Don’t cry, bitte. I beg you.” his whole body tensed with the want for your ex’s blood. He wanted to draw blood, to cause pain from beyond that bastard caused you. “‘m gonna kill that bastard.” he mumbled and kissed your hair again. He was using all his willpower not to fall for his anger. “Say something.” he buried his head into your hair and held you tighter. Trying to contain his anger. Hearing you cry was worse than the torment he received in his past. It was worse than the time when they cut a deep wound on his chest or pressed hot iron on his back. He wished for another wound rather than seeing you cry that much.

By the time your sobs stopped he was at the edge of going crazy. “König.” you finally mumbled and his heart skipped a beat. “Ja, meine Königin?” he immediately answered, like if you command him to kill he wouldn’t think twice. Your ex’s pained groans filled your ears as you lifted your head from his neck and looked into his eyes. “How did you know?” you questioned. Because you haven’t told anyone about your abusive boyfriend. "I thought i was going to... " he shushed you by slamming his lips into yours, your head was now inside his mask. He pulled your body into his lap and hungrily kissed your lips. He was gentle though. The sudden want to possess and claim you as his was overwhelming, but he didn’t want to force you for anything after your traumatizing experience. "Let’s get you out of here, meine Königin." he mumbled after the kiss and kissed the bruised skin of your neck.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

also i want to thank y’all for all support on my previous post. it really made my day :’)

#konig x you #könig smut #konig cod #konig smut #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x y/n #silay #i know it’s könig

[dazed-and-confused23]

Hi, can I request a story where a female reader wants to fuck Cooper and keeps making advances at him but Cooper always shuts her down. But when reader meets Hancock, she's so desperate to get her rocks off that she asks him to bang her, which he immediately agrees to because, well, it's Hancock. Reader and Hancock aren't exactly quiet when they're having sex which causes Cooper to be unable to sleep. They noises they make get to him and he jerks himself off. Internally, he's wishing he didn't blow off reader so many times because he could've been in Hancock's position by now.

Anon. I can't thank you enough for such a lovely prompt ❤️. I hope I've done it justice!

Opportunities

Part 2 -> HERE

Cooper can admit that you're a stubborn little smoothskin. This is the fourth time in three days that you'd slid up to him, all soft flesh and smelling delicious, and looked at him with such an innocent gaze that it always shocked him at the filth that spilled out of your mouth.

"You should let me suck your cock."

Cooper sucked in a harsh breath, his lungs rattling and sending him into a short coughing fit. You pat his back softly, expression concerned, until the ghoul shrugs you off and stomps forward.

"Shouldn't be sayin' shit like that to men like me, Smoothie," Cooper bit out, and willed down the arousal that wanted to rise up and consume him like a fuckin' tidal wave. They rounded one last corner and came upon the entrance of Goodneighbor, and Cooper slumped a little in relief when they passed inside the safety of the walls. Boston was a dangerous place.

Down in the Third Rail, you sit by yourself at the bar, an annoyed pout on your lips as you sip the drink Charlie had whipped up for you. Cooper has already retired for the night, shacked up in a room at the Hotel Rexford. You don't understand why your ghoulish companion doesn't want to have sex with you. There wasn't something wrong with you was there?

Your self depreciating thoughts are interrupted by a smokey voice, made rough by radiation and chems.

"Why the long face, sister?"

You turn and see one of the most attractive ghouls you've ever lain eyes on. He is lean and willowy, but you could see a hidden strength in the way he held himself. He wore a red colonial outfit, complete with a tricorn hat, and a smile so friendly you knew there was danger lurking beneath.

"Cat got your tongue?" He drawls after a moment, and you flush, thighs squeezing together just at the sound of his voice. It's over for you after that. You learn that his name is Hancock, and he's the Major of Goodneighbor. He buys you drinks, and it's an embarrassingly short amount of time before you turn to him, eyes hopeful.

"Will you have sex with me, Hancock?"

The ghoul doesn't miss a best, hands already on your hips as he leads you out of the Third Rail and to the hotel across the street, and conveniently right beside Cooper's rented room.

The bounty hunter wakes to the sound of two people fucking, and they are not being quiet about it. Cooper is seconds away from smacking the wall and snarling at them to shut the fuck up, when he recognizes the sound of your voice, and his annoyance turns straight to burning aroused, jealousy.

Blood rushes to his cock, and Cooper falls back in the bed, head hitting the pillow as he clenches his eyes shut. The sound of your breath moans, begging for more ring in his head, and the ghoul breaks. He pops the button of his pants and shoves them down, taking his aching dick in his hand and stroking roughly.

"Ahh~ harder, John. Please."

Cooper grits his teeth, regret curdling his stomach as he listens to someone else fuck you, take what he kept pushing away. It should be his fuckin' name that you moan, his cock that should be buried in your tight cunt. Coop wouldn't have kept pushing you away if he knew you sounded so sweet stuffed full.

"That's it, baby, ya feel so goddamn good."

The second voice is rough, and that green envy grows at recognizing the sound of another ghoul. Cooper snarls lowly in the room, his hand tight around his cock as he fucks his fist and imagines that it's him in the room with you, bending you over the bed and fucking you just like you've been begging him to.

The sounds you make grow in pitch, and Cooper follows right along, stroking his cock in time with the breathy pants that's fall from your lips. A strangled moan leaves his lips when his balls tighten, and he comes, seed spilling and coating his fist. Cooper sits up and wipes it off on the sheets without a care, brows pulled down in a scowl when the noise in the next room ceases.

Cooper stuffs his dick back in his pants and leaves the room, loping out of the hotel and back to the bar. He'd wait until you were finished with whoever the fuck John was, and then he'd be there to sweep you up. Coop wouldn't miss that opportunity again.

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #x reader #the ghoul x reader #john hancock x reader #hancock x reader #john hancock

[omitea]

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

. ft. highschool! gojo

. content. fluffity fluff fluff.

. note. he’s such an idiot i love him. tried my best lol.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who is known as the cocky boy who also doesn’t know how to hold his tongue, but when he sees you for the first time— his façade comes crumbling down along with the ounces that are known as his communication skills.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who thinks he has a chance with you because according to him, he’s very much likable and you must be insane if you were to turn him down.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who follows you around school like a sad little puppy that has been abandoned in a dark alley. and you can practically see his tail wagging when you two share small interactions, even though most of them consist of him trying lame pick up lines which results in him almost getting knocked behind the head.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who you convince yourself of that you dislike, despite all the times you spend together. either during classes, lunch, hangouts with shoko and suguru or missions you’re both assigned to. he’s like a solar pannel that has been installed, slowly but rapidly sucking the remaining energy out of you as if you’re the sun.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who likes to make snarky remarks and tease you, not knowing he’s slightly being ignorant towards you as a person and your feelings. so you try to create the most distance possible, leaving him in desperation for your presence.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who embarrassingly begs shoko and suguru to talk to you. he suggests nothing but all ridiculous plans to have you finally come talk to him— and surprisingly it worked. having them to panically call you over and your worried expression quickly turned into one of disappointment. seeing satoru laying on the floor with a hand placed above his heart, whining how bad you’ve hurt him. you can’t deny that you found his dramatics amusing.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who you tell about the way you’ve been feeling regards of the way he acted towards you. his eyebrows raise in realization and he stumbles on his endless words of apologies. if you hadn’t stopped him, he basically would’ve bowed down at your feet for mercy.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who loves being able to touch you; either a lanky arm thrown around you, knees touching when he insisted on taking the seat next to you on the train or his favorite, hugging you. even though it’s only when you seek comfort, he can’t help but be selfish and enjoy these acts of services once in a while.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who is so obvious with his feelings towards you, that it makes you notice the subtle ticklish feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach whenever you hear a simple thing such as the mention of his name. you’ve tried multiple times to push those feelings down, but they seem to rise higher and higher as time goes by.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who has been quiet for a while now, leaving you wondering in concern. you tried to figure it out, but it wasn’t possible when he was avoiding you in all the ways possible. he hasn’t even gossiped with you about the latest celebrity drama, something that formed like a habit between the both of you.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who runs up to you— panting and out of breath while he has his hands placed on his knees. between rushed breaths and a few coughs, he manages to tell you why he has been avoiding you and you laugh at the reason. for someone with a big ego, he sure is a coward when it comes to confessing.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who fails to hide the excitement in his teary blue eyes when you reciprocate your feelings and deciding to give him a chance. but you soon feel a pinch of regret when he ends up telling his friends and even yaga that the two of you are dating. he hasn’t even taken you out on a date yet. but that’s something for you to worry about later when he returns.

☆— 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 who is now the man you’re married to and who hasn’t fully grown out of his idiotic characteristics. but you have come to terms with that fact the moment you decided to give him your all in 2006. trusting his promise back then and till now, when he said that he’d take care of the most precious thing in the world. your heart.

tags ! :: @white-poppie

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

#—sinnie posts ♡ #☆ —jjk! #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo fluff #satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x reader

[awearywritersworld]

"i'll always come when you call"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you're gravely injured on a mission, your best friend finds you just in time w/c: 1.35k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, obviously reader is hurt but nothing is terribly graphic, though there are lots of mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lots of emotional distress for gojo, he punches a wall, ft. a very worried yuuji and gumi a/n: home boy is in pieces at the thought of losing us. i make myself emotional masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

it wasn't supposed to go like this. not hardly, not half.

a simple mission turned into an ambush. what was originally one mid-grade cursed spirit became several. you lost count somewhere around the fifth.

rain patters against your body, washing away the crimson that's seeping from numerous wounds. at first everything hurt, but now all you feel is a foreboding numbness spreading throughout your limbs.

you hardly remember slipping your phone from your pocket or dialing his number when you hear your best friend's voice ring out from the speaker. "hey, princess. how'd it go?"

you try to speak, but no sound comes out. eventually, you manage a choked cough and the faint sensation of liquid flowing from the corner of your mouth accompanies the effort.

you barely make out his worried tone calling your name before your phone clatters to the ground, screen going black as it lies in a puddle of pale red.

you fight to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you're incredibly drowsy and the coldness has begun to ebb away, replaced by a comforting warmness.

you always imagined the light that welcomes you into the afterlife would be a blinding white, but instead, it's a familiar shade of blue.

an unsettling feeling had made a home in the pit of gojo's stomach long before he received your call. he's pacing, his eyebrows furrowed with inexplicable worry when his ringtone fills the room.

relief floods through him once he sees your name on the screen, but it's short lived when your end of the line remains quiet. he hears you sputter and it isn't a second later that he teleports to the city where your assigned mission is.

his heart is hammering away, a dull thudding in his ears, as he follows the traces of cursed energy that grow stronger with each long stride. he covers ground impressively fast, though as soon as his eyes land on your body, it's as if everything shifts to slow motion.

it feels like he's fighting against an invisible force as he approaches the spot where you lay. he can hear someone howling your name and it's not until he feels the hoarseness in throat that he recognizes the voice as his own. his knees crash painfully into the pavement at your side.

the situation is worse than he could have imagined. it's looks like you, sure, but it can't be you. not when your eyes have just fluttered shut, no movement beneath your lids. not when your body is still, no steady rise and fall of your chest. and certainly not when it looks as if you're—

"wake up," he begs, shaking your shoulders. "please, wake up!"

not wasting another moment, he gathers your limp body in his arms, one arm behind curling around your shoulders, the other hooking behind your knees.

he teleports directly into the infirmary and shoko nearly scolds him before she takes in your dreadful state. the cigarette that was hanging between her lips falls to the floor. "get her on the bed."

she moves around the room in haste, pulling drawers and cabinets open wildly.

"she's going to be okay, right? tell me that she's going to be fine," he implores, panicking when the brunette fails to reassure him. "..shoko!"

"get out, satoru!" she barks. she can't concentrate, not while one of her oldest friends is hysterical with worry and the other is lying there half dead.

"please, i can't—"

"now!"

he stares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the hall. his fist meets the wall with such force, the drywall crumbles to the floor. gojo himself follows suit soon thereafter.

the commotion catches the attention of yuuji and megumi, who round the corner just seconds later.

"sensei—" yuuji begins to question, but the words die in his throat.

gojo's crouched down, his face buried in his hands. they're still covered in your blood. he wants to scream and yell and curse the world, but instead, he clenches his jaw so fiercely it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.

the boys share a look, both startled by the present state of their usually frivolous teacher. neither of them need to ask who's behind that door, they know there's only one person who could elicit such a reaction from gojo.

megumi approaches him cautiously, swallowing his own concern, and places a hand on his shoulder. "she'll be okay."

the white haired man doesn't look up, just nods weakly in acknowledgement. megumi joins yuuji who is already sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, and the three of them wait together in silence.

gojo hardly moves until the infirmary door opens, which makes him rise so quickly it leaves him dizzy. shoko surveys the three of them before speaking.

"she's.. she's still unconscious, but you should be with her. she's been calling for you in her sleep—"

she scarcely finishes before gojo makes his way through the door. shoko stays in the hallway to update yuuji and megumi, giving the two of you a bit of privacy.

pulling up a chair beside you, he threads his fingers between yours, your skin still frightfully cool. though it's not until he hears you mumble his name that he truly falls apart.

his free hand flies to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking. this all could have gone very differently and the thought makes him sick to his stomach. he should have gone with you, or at the very least, he should have gotten to you faster.

"'toru?" your raspy voice fills his ears.

when he looks up to find you peering at him through tired eyes, the tension that'd been weighing heavily in his chest dissipates and he exhales deeply. still, his voice trembles. "hey, sweetheart."

every part of you aches, but it's nothing compared to the guilt you feel upon seeing gojo like this— his eyes red and swollen, your blood painted across his hands and face.

you have a vague memory of everything that happened. you remember just barely exorcising the last cursed spirit. you remember being sure you weren't going to survive and using your last bit of strength to call him. "you found me."

he nods, his hand squeezing yours. "i thought i was too late.. i.. i thought i'd lost you."

his voice cracks and it nearly shatters your heart, tears welling up in your eyes. "i'm so sorry, 'toru. i'm sorry i wasn't strong enough, t-that you had to come save me."

you attempt to sit up, but he puts a hand to your shoulder and shakes his head. "don't you dare apologize. i'll always come when you call and i'll always be there when you need me. you have to know that."

the intensity of his gaze forces you to look away and the conviction in his voice makes you feel woozy. thinking about it, there really never had been an instance in which gojo wasn't there for you. he's the person you've sought out time and time again and he's never once let you down.

his hand finds your face and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye.

"i love you," you blurt out.

you stare at each other with wide eyes and the seconds tick by markedly until he finally whispers, "say it again."

"i love you."

he had no idea how much he needed to hear those three words fall from your lips until he nearly lost the chance forever. truthfully, it makes him feel a bit foolish, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.

he smiles for the first time in hours, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "i love you, too."

and he always has— he knows that now.

"you should get some rest, angel," he suggests tenderly. "i'll be right here when you wake up."

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines

[rileyslibrary]

Here’s a rose, now piss off.

Summary: Ghost threw out his back, and the medics forbade him from going on a mission. So he’s been assigned by HR to hand out flowers for Women’s Day.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,094

Notes: 

I'll keep putting Mr Riley in the most awkward situations possible until I run out of ideas. When will that be? *fist punches the table* NEVAH!

Platonic fluff. 🌸

Want more?

———————————————————————

There’s a knock on the door. It’s the 10th time someone has asked to see you since this morning, and it’s not even lunchtime yet. Soldiers are coming in and out of the garage. All. The. Time. They want you to modify their equipment, repair their trucks, replace their firearms, and sync their walkie-talkies. And, as if you’re a genie in a bottle, they expect their wishes to be granted “stat.”

“Come in!” you say, turning towards the door to see your subordinate looking like he was asked to solve world hunger. 

“Boss!” he exclaims, looking down at his clipboard. “Have you seen the Humvee that arrived today?” 

“No, soldier,” you mutter. “What about it?” 

“W-well,” he begins, pausing briefly to look at you. “It’s got holes all over it, boss.”

“Holes?” you ask with raised eyebrows. 

"Y-yeah," he stammers. “Like from bullets and stuff.” 

When you hear the words “and stuff,” a smile forms at the corners of your mouth. It’s not one of amusement. Instead, it’s a tired smile that signals the start of something far more sinister that is about to happen if people continue to bother you with such trivial “stuff.” 

“What do we do in situations like these, soldier?” you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, “what did I teach you to do?” 

“Patch’ er up, boss!” He responds with pride. 

“And what happens if that doesn’t work?” 

“Make a pasta strainer with it, boss.”

“But?” 

“But welding always works for patching up holes, boss!” 

“Very well done!” you utter. “Now go and weld the shit out of it,” you shoo him with your hand, “the operators will likely need the car right away for their next mission.” 

He salutes and walks away six feet taller as if he’s figured out how to solve the Collatz conjecture. You must retrain them so they don’t come to you seeking advice for the tiniest “stuff”. 

Another person enters as your subordinate walks out; an American holding an annihilated walkie-talkie. 

“What is it this time, Philip?” you ask, noticeably bored. 

“It got wet,” he says, handing you the equipment piece by piece. “And then it stopped working.” 

“Graves!” you yell, swinging the poor thing by its cables. This one was already dead. Done. Caput. “Is this what you call ‘wet’ in the States?”

He chuckles but then stops when he sees your stunned expression. He gives a shrug. 

You sigh and toss the walkie-talkie on top of a pile of wrecked equipment, wishing your patience was as large as that heap. You choose another that you fixed earlier, synchronise it, and hand it over to him. 

“Please take better care of your belongings,” you beg. “All of you.” 

He nods and leaves the room, waving the small equipment as if to thank you.

As much as you get angry at them, you can’t help but sympathise and understand their situation. They are soldiers. To successfully complete a mission, they must enter dangerous territories and battlefields. They should submerge themselves and everything they hold in water if necessary. They must use that equipment to the best of their capabilities to free prisoners, rescue civilians, and capture terrorists. Your responsibility is to repair and maintain that equipment, so it is always in good working order and ready to use whenever they need them. Your role might not be as critical as that of a medic, but you, too, are required to ensure their missions’ success.

A cough behind you causes you to throw your hands to your sides and lift your head as if praying to God to end this ordeal. 

“What is it n-” you pause and turn to look at Ghost, holding a covered bucket in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. 

“Let me guess,” you say. “There’s a dead drone in there,” you say, pointing to the bucket, “and you managed to save some of its parts in that cup.” 

But he gives you a threatening stare. He appears to be as fed up as you are. 

He sets the bucket down and lifts up the cover. There is no drone in it. It’s filled with vibrant roses wrapped in pretty paper, standing upright.

“I’m a mechanic, not a botanist, Ghost.” 

“It’s for Women’s Day,” he says, his face as expressionless as when he first entered the room. “I have to distribute these to all the women-” 

You burst out laughing, and he immediately gets angry. He was anticipating that reaction. 

“This isn’t funny, you little shit,” he spits. “I threw my back out, and now HR is making me hand out flowers like I’m fucking Zorro instead of going on the mission.” 

You hold back your laughter and wipe the tears of joy from your cheeks. “At least you have the mask, Lt.,” you try to comfort him, and he turns away in embarrassment. 

“Well, Lt., I’m afraid I’m not a flower person-” 

“I don’t care; you have to choose one.” He says, motioning to the bucket. “And hurry up; I have to go to the ladies at the registrations as well.” 

“No.” You refuse and smirk as you lean against the shelf. “You choose one for me.” 

“Listen up, you motherf-” 

“Hey now, it’s Women’s Day.” You remind him, looking at your nails. 

He sighs as he kneels down with difficulty, shuffling through roses. His hand first grasps a red one, then a pink one, before finally deciding on a yellow rose with red wrapping paper. 

He stands up, supporting his weight on his thigh, that cup still in his hands, and offers you the flower.

“Why yellow?” You ask as you accept the rose. 

“I’m saving the pretty ones for those who actually like flowers,” he explains. 

You widen your eyes and tilt your head to the side. “Is that so, Mr Riley?” You ask.

But he doesn’t give in to your trap. He reaches out his other arm and hands you the cup he held. “Here,” he says, “I know you like coffee.” 

This is far too entertaining for you to give up on. 

“You got me coffee?” You ask with a smile. “You’re such a sweetheart, Simon.” 

He mutters something under his breath, picks up the bucket and begins his way to the ‘registration ladies’.

“Do you need help with that, Lt.?” You ask, and he extends his middle finger without turning around. 

“Thanks for the coffee!” you shout, and you notice his middle finger tucking into his palm, giving way to his thumb as if to say, “you’re welcome.”

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