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myfictionaldreams · 4 months

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Merry Christmas // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, costumes/roleplay, rough oral (f and m receiving), rough sex, size kink, praise kink, choking, sir kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, subspace, aftercare

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry, it's been a while since I've posted; I promise to get back to requests at some point. Until then, I just wanted to post a little something and to say Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and Happy Holidays to everyone else!

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Winter was one of your utterly favourite months just for moments like the one you were currently experiencing. The snow layered thickly against the outside of your home, causing a darkened shadow on the inside, which only meant that the blazing fire lit the sitting area in beautiful deep orange and red. The sweet smell of hot cocoa wafted from the kitchen, only making your smile grow as you pulled the fluffy blanket further up your body until the only exposed part of you was your face.

Your back nuzzled further into the soft cushions of the coach you were waiting patiently on, watching the movie with half interest as the comfort of the moment had you wanting to drift into sleep. What’s more was that the meetings that had been planned for later in the evening had inevitably been cancelled due to the freezing weather, which meant that you knew you could sit in with your two boyfriends without the fear of them being out on the dangerous roads, just to attend a threatening meeting.

They were home. Safe. With you.

Blinking open an eye and looking around the room, it dawned on you that they’d been gone from your side for so long that the parts of the cushions they’d been sitting on had turned cold. You’d been drifting between sleep and trying to cuddle closer to them for an hour when Bucky shifted, causing a groan to burst from your throat.

He’d simply kissed your temple tenderly, earning a much-deserved smile in return as he explained that he would make the three of you hot cocoa. Steve had then mumbled something about helping him, but you were too busy trying to reposition your body and get used to not having them squishing either side of you.

Sitting up slightly on the couch, you glanced briefly over the back towards where the kitchen was to see if you could spot either Steve or Bucky, but neither were in sight.

“What’s taking you both so long? I’m getting so cold and lonely out here without you”, you shouted idly with a hint of a whine for emphasis. As you stared up at the TV attached to the wall above the fireplace, you contemplated what film the three of you could watch tonight when you became distracted by the footsteps coming from the kitchen. Frowning, you began to shout, “What took you both so … long?”

Any words you were thinking of asking were swiftly forgotten as your view of the TV was replaced by both of your boyfriends, each standing in oversized Santa trousers, each held up by black suspenders over their shoulders. The red velvet material that covered their strong legs was cuffed with thick white fluff around the ankles and waistline. However, your attention wasn’t forced on this as your eyes squinted, not quite believing the detail; “Have you oiled your chests?” you asked quietly, throat suddenly thick with saliva.

Bucky smirked, tensing his pecs so that you could see the oil's gleam better in the fire's orange light. In any other situation, you might have laughed at the fact that they looked like wannabe Santa strippers, but your pussy was being a traitor with the deep pulse that had your thighs clenching with the desperate need to find some relief.

The baby oil that covered the top half of their naked body seemed to extenuate the god-like bodies they both had, the muscles over their arms and abs flexing with the subtle movements they were both making. Even Bucky’s metal arm was oiled, causing the silver shade to shimmer and gleam.

Your head swivelled between admiring the both of them, unsure what to say or how to act. Thankfully, Steve was the first to speak, his thumbs hooking into the base of the black suspenders as he asked in a deep, gravely voice, “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

Your lips automatically flicked up at the corners to a teasing smile, but the single eyebrow raised by Steve had you falling right into the trap. All the thoughts that had crossed your mind to laugh and joke with them had quickly melted into the submissive, needy girlfriend that they both wanted.

“Um, nice - I think, " you respond before biting your lower lip, a move that had both Steve and Bucky reaching forward, but the latter made first contact, his metal thump gently easing out the lip from between your teeth.

“Nice huh? You sure about that, Doll?” Bucky asked, his fingers firmly holding your chin so you could not look away from him.

You shivered as Steve eased away the blanket, and even though the room wasn’t cold, the sensations pulsing through your core had your body overreacting. Your eyes had drifted over to Steve, who had squatted to be closer to your height, but a sharp tug on your chin from Bucky had your attention back on him as you tried to form the words to respond to him. “Ye-yes. Yes, I’ve been nice”.

A sharp gasp left your mouth as a quick tug of your nipple from Steve had your body shifting upright. With your arousal building, your nipples had pebbled beneath the thin, oversized top that you wore. Bucky’s eyes seemed to darken as he watched your reaction, the subtle way your hips ground on the couch.

“Really? Because from what I’ve seen, it looks like you’re being a very naughty girl right now. Tell me, Sweetheart, what do you want for Christmas?”

“You”, your response was instantaneous, and it seemed to be the correct answer with the way Bucky smiled down at you before releasing your chin.

“Well, it still remains to be seen if you’ve really been a good girl”, Bucky emphasised the last two words, knowing just how those words stroke the deep praise kink that further warmed your pussy, your wetness beginning to coat your lips and drench your shorts.

“Pl-please let me prove it. I want to be both of yours, good girl.” You look between where Bucky still stood above you, and Steve knelt at your side.

“That’s the thing, Sweetheart. The boss down there seems to agree with you. He thinks you’ve been a good girl all year round for his treats, but me? I’m not convinced; I think I need you to show me just how good you can be”, Bucky explains with darkness lacing his words. “Stand up”, he orders, full of authority. You do, being careful not to knock into Steve as you stand with enough speed that you are somewhat lightheaded. Both of their hands were on you in a split second. Steve grabbed the waistline of your shorts, and Bucky pulled the shirt up and over your head until the two of them had you standing completely bare.

Ungracefully, Bucky pushed against your shoulder, forcing you to sit back onto the warm cushions, looking up at him with wide eyes. A gentle tremor was pulsing through your body with anticipation of what was to come. Your cunt would have been soaked just from the way they were both acting, but with the outfits as well, you were near feral with need.

Bucky’s warm hand gently wrapped around your throat, his thumb and forefinger on either side of your neck, feeling the galloping pace of your heartbeat as you stared up at him. “Will you do everything I say?” he asks with a more gentler tone than before.

“Yes, sir”, you say, voice laced with desperation.

“Good, then I need you to ignore everything that Boss is going to do to you. The only thing I want you to do is to keep your eyes on me”.

“Yes, sir”.

With great ease, Bucky pushed against your neck, forcing you to sit back correctly against the cushions as he began to stand on the couch, just as Steve moved between your legs on the floor, lifting them until your legs lay over his shoulders.

With the oil, your legs wanted to slip off, so his massive hands had to grip onto the flesh of your thighs, keeping them thoroughly in place as he lowered his face to the heat and wetness that was begging for his touch.

As his tongue caressed the length of your pussy, drinking down the juices you’d seeped in the moments of seeing them in the outfits, your moan was cut off by the light squeeze around your throat from Bucky as he subtly reminded you of his demand. Your eyes moved away from Steve and up to the tall, foreboding figure above you as Bucky’s metal hand drifted to his suspenders, pushing them off each shoulder.

“Remember what I said. I want you to ignore him down there and keep your eyes on me. Now, why don’t you prove to me why you should be on the nice list?”.

You were unsure if, by ignoring, he meant for you not to moan or react to Steve’s tongue as it circled your swollen bundle of nerves, but it was damn near impossible to be silent as the waves of toe-curling pleasure sparked through your core. However, your mouth was now salivating for another reason as Bucky pushed the red velvet material down his hips until midthigh, and the thick, veined cock of your boyfriend was throbbing in the air before your face.

Resting your hands on Bucky’s thicks and licking your lips whilst also trying not to crush Steve with your thighs, you willed Bucky to come closer with a pathetic squeak. Thankfully, he removed his hand from your throat and rested it on the back of the couch, using it to lower his body and directing his cock to your mouth. You didn’t waste a second before licking around the tip, gathering all the precum into your mouth before swallowing the salty goodness down, swiftly followed by a few inches of his hard length.

Bucky’s sigh was praise enough to have you feeling sated and happy as you began to pleasure him with your tongue and mouth, almost matching the movements of Steve between your legs.

“That’s it, just a little more; I know you can take it”, Bucky encouraged with a firm hand on the back of your head. As his cock reached the back of your throat and the overwhelming urge to gag overcame you, you attempted to relax your throat to take him deeper, which thankfully worked, ignoring the tears that now lined your eyes from the stimulation.

It didn’t help matters that your throat kept spasming with the moans and whines from Steve’s treatment of your pussy. He was eating you like the man was starved. Devouring is the best way to describe the way he was licking you out. His tongue changed from delving into the depths of your soaking cunt, twisting and turning to stimulate all the nerves within, just to then pull out and his teeth to gently graze your clit, causing a throb from your walls which was the gently eased by his tongue once more.

It took almost no time at all before you were cumming into his mouth with a flush of heat and added wetness that coated his chin and cheeks. Steve didn’t stop, though, and used your overstimulation post-orgasm to draw you closer to a second orgasm.

Your nails digging into the soft material of Bucky’s Santa trousers helped to keep your ground and not drown in the overwhelming length that was still forcing down your throat. With all the time you’d been with Steve and Bucky, you’d thankfully been able to train your throat to be fucked and take more of their length compared to when you were first with Steve.

This feat was a minor miracle because when Bucky began to take control of the situation and gyrated his hips so that he was now just straight-up, fucking your throat, it meant that you were able to breathe through your nose at the correct times without panicking.

Saliva had filled your mouth from the fucking and was steadily dripping down your chin, causing obscene sloppy noises to come from you, but this only added more praising groans from Bucky as you knew he loved a sloppy blowjob.

“Fuck, you’re being such a good girl, Doll. Remember what I said, eyes on me only”. You tried to nod, but the cock in your mouth hindered your movements as your eyes remained focused on the buzz-cut brunette standing over you.

This became more difficult as you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye as you came for the third time. Steve was beginning to straighten his height but remained on his knees; however, your legs were lowered until wrestling around his waist, but his grip remained tight and firm, keeping them in place.

Without warning, immense pressure and stretching of your cunt began to contort your body as Steve began to fuck into your cunt. Thankfully Bucky pulled out enough that you could gasp without his cock filtering the noise as your eyes clenched shut from the welcomed intrusion. Inch after inch filled your empty hole until his hips were flush against yours.

As you and Steve both released a relieved sigh, the dominating hand on the back of your head began to firmly tug your lips closer to Bucky’s cock once more until you were full with both of them.

The two worked together like they did in every aspect of the word. One of them remained in your body as the other pulled out. In out, in out, they fucked you until you were a trembling, wet mess.

Thankfully, now, they were both heavily praising you, which was like sweet music to your ears.

“Taking my cock so well”.

“Fuck, you always make me feel so good. Yes, just like that”.

“Such a good girl, Doll. I know you wanna cum on Steve’s cock; do it. Cum for him”.

You did. Many times, in fact. Steve had you cuming so many times that you’d lost count as a sweet warmth wrapped around your brain, leaving you feeling like you weren’t in your mundane house anymore but amongst the clouds, floating endlessly in pleasure. Your hands had dropped to your side as all of your energy was now being reserved for sucking Bucky’s cock and taking the punishing pace of Steve’s.

Eventually, Steve was the first to cum with a harsh grunt and snap of his hips as heat and thick wetness flooded into your cunt. He remained in place, holding your legs around his waist as his cock began to soften.

Bucky’s chest was now glistening with both sweat and oil as his eyebrows pinched together, his cheeks rosy with a flush as he groaned deeply, “I’m cumming, holy shit-”. You did gag this time as his entire cock bulged into your throat, the whisps of trimmed hair on his pubic mount tickling your nose as he came.

You worked hard to swallow every drop of him down until your lungs were burning for breath, and he gently eased out of your aching jaw. Your mouth tingled as you licked your swollen lips, sure that if you tried to talk now, all that you’d be able to achieve is a dreadful, deep, gravely voice.

Bucky leapt off the couch, disappearing into another direction you were too tired to follow. Thankfully, Steve remained with you as he carefully repositioned the two of you so that he now sat in the middle of the seat and had you sitting in his lap. Your head felt heavy as it lulled against his slipped chest, but you still hummed in contentment as he kissed your forehead sweetly whilst wrapping his strong hands around your shoulders.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I need you to drink some of this; it’ll help your throat”, Bucky encouraged a few moments later as he sat next to the two of you with a mug of steaming hot cocoa. Steve helped lift your head as Bucky held the drink out, tipping it slightly so that you could drink a couple of sips, moaning at the chocolatey sweet taste and the warmth that did soothe your sore throat.

“Well done, just a little more”, Steve whispered against your cheek as he lay delicate kisses against your sensitive skin.

Finally, with the drink gone, Bucky leaned closer to you, giving your lips a much-deserved kiss before pulling away with a cheeky glint in his eye. “So, do you like the outfits? They were Nat’s idea. Pretty sure she meant it as a joke”, he wondered out loud, but your giggle and nod recaptured his attention.

“I loved them”, you whispered with a voice thick with tiredness and evidence from being thoroughly fucked.

“Good, because I can’t wait to see what you’ll look like in the outfit we bought you. We think you’d be the perfect match to be Mrs Clause, but I must admit, there was significantly less material”, Steve explained as his fingers massaged into your still aching legs.

“I can’t wait, but maybe tomorrow”, you admit tiredly, relaxing further into the arms of both of them.

#mafia au #mafia stucky #mafia!stucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky #stucky x reader #stucky smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky smut #bucky x reader #marvel smut #mine*#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky #stucky

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rxzennia · 5 days

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hibernation/ brumation

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 winter dormancy.

in his five years of being your boss, aventurine hasn’t ever seen you send in a request for leave. but here he is, staring at your application for a month-long vacation.

a month? isn’t that a little too long?

you didn’t even stick a little comment about where you’re going or what’s happening, dammit! he wants to know so bad, but he feels like he’ll either overstep his boundaries or come off as clingy if he asks.

he’ll approve it, of course!

he wants you to not hate your job, and part of being a good boss is letting his subordinates take the leaves they’re entitled to

and you deserve a nice, long break, anyway

but the curiosity is killing him inside. what will you be doing? will you still hang around the IPC?

he really, really wants to barge into your office and wrench an explanation out of you

and also, how dare you try to take leave right into the holidays! rude

he wanted to take you out to dinner! to fancy places! he was prepared to have a schedule full of you!

totally not dates or his attempts to spoil you

he totally isn’t thinking of doing it so that you’ll spoil him in return

he’s found out that you respond to him if he rants at you

and that you get very soft and careful with him if he presses the right buttons

he digs that so much it’s unreal

there’s something about having you, of all people, treat him tenderly

perhaps because he’s seen firsthand what kind of monster hides in your scarf

or… what kind of monster hides beneath your silent, icy exterior

it just hits different when someone like you treat him so gently

and he knows for a fact that you’ll never abuse that power you have

he absolutely loves that. 100%.

“guess who’s here!” aventurine announces as he enters your office without so much as a knock, “hard at work, my favorite secretary?”

“out, please.” you hiss, sparing him barely a glance from your computer, “i’m concentrating.”

since when did your complaints stop him

he saunters over and sits himself on your armrest anyway

your scarf lift him up and set him down on the couch opposite to you

he finds his way back to your chair

you put him on the couch again

he comes back to your armrest

is he a cat obsessed with a particular box (namely, your chair) or something

you give up

“what is it?” you relent, scooting over so he can fit onto your seat, too, albeit barely

this man does not hesitate to invade your personal space

“where are you going for a month, hmm?” he asks with a playful smile, “can’t even tell me?”

oh, so that’s what this is about

but why is he resting his face in his hand and looking at you like he’s trying to flirt?

“hibernation.” you keep typing without giving aventurine much of a reaction, “not exactly, but close. brumation.”

wait. wait, what?

it doesn’t take a genius to know that aventurine is currently flabbergasted. “you… hibernate? like sleep hibernate?”

“no, i hibernate awake.” you mumble sarcastically, but he catches it even if your words are muffled

“c’mon, i’m just checking!” he throws his hands in the air as if protesting your attitude

“yes, i sleep, for the most part.” you scoot over a little more and lift him up, setting him down in your lap. “but i’ll be awake here and there.”

you rest your head on top of his and continues to work, effectively caging him in

he realizes you’re much more like a snake than he thought

not in an alarming way

you’re coiling around him, but, like, in a friendly danger noodle way

“will you?” he chuckles; maybe his plans aren’t entirely foiled, after all, “for how long?”

you look at him. “a few minutes up to an hour?”

you’re only getting up for water and/or changing sleeping positions

never mind, his plans to try to spoil you is, in fact, foiled

he pouts. he had the entire thing planned out already! all five days that you’ll be off!

he looks like a kid who’s about to buy the last donut but you beat him to it and buy the donut right in front of his eyes.

“you can visit.” you say, and you see him light up almost immediately.

though, you don't think there’s much worth visiting, but whatever makes him happy

when aventurine visits you during your well-deserved vacation, he’s pleasantly surprised. you’re sleeping so peacefully, despite the fact that you usually rarely sleep at all.

you’re curled up into half a ball under your blankets and your scarf

and letting out little snores

is this what you look like when you’re asleep?

so adorable. if only you’d let him see it often…

but he doesn’t know the frequency of your brumation period

as far as he knows, it’s once in five years, but he has no idea if it’s more than five years

you’re not covering your face, either

aeons, he loves seeing your unobscured face

you’re so beautiful under your scarf

especially the patches of scales along your neck, they glitter in white gold under the light

he wishes you wouldn't try to cover them up

during your entire month, he’s going to be in your room whenever he’s free

he will totally try to sleep next to you at night

what? it’s not like you haven’t shared a bed before!

it’s just that you’ve never been asleep by each other's side!

you will cuddle into him if he tries to hold you

and you will get fussy if he tries to get out of the hug

if only you were as honest when you’re awake

aventurine has been trying to catch you in your small conscious windows, but he’s having not much luck with that. though, this isn’t exactly a gamble, so “luck” might not be the right word here.

he’s so busy; he’s drowning in work

your temporary replacement isn’t very good at their job

or maybe he’s just used to the way you do things and now everything feels wrong

he wants you back already

because nowadays he barely has an hour to spend with you apart from bedtime

he hates it

what do you mean by he can’t sit next to your sleeping form while he signs papers?

horrible, very horrible

but eventually he does catch you when you’re awake

you’re drowsy and you’re dragging your blankets and your scarf with you around your room

the cutest thing he’s ever seen in a long while

he watches as you clumsily pour yourself some water, spilling some on the table because you can’t line up the jug and the glass properly

and he watches as you sluggishly flop onto your couch after you’ve downed the water

“had enough of the bed?” he asks, sitting down next to you and brushing a few strands of hair away from your face

“hnnnnnngh,” you grumble and turn to face away from him, you just want to go back to sleep

then you remember this is your boss’s voice

and you reluctantly mumble, “it’s too warm…”

do you even know what you’re saying? you’re melting his heart

“oh, that so? it’s too hot over there?” aventurine snickers softly, his hand caressing your face, the cool fabric of his glove making you sigh in delight. “you’re so lovely.”

he recognizes the amount of trust you have in him to let him visit you when you’re sleeping, and it’s doing things to his stomach. you’re so lazy, so barely aware of your surroundings, but you trust him to be around you while you are in this state.

there is an urge, and he acts on it. he nuzzles against your cheek, rubbing your noses together and planting a small kiss on your forehead. he’s been dreaming of holding you like you’re his greatest treasure, but he’s never mustered up the courage to do it.

maybe someday he will tell you, and then he’ll be allowed to adore you openly the way he’s always wanted to.

“my favorite snake,” he whispers to himself, feeling a shudder of affection throughout his bones, “sleep well. i’ll look forward to taking you out when you rise.”

#honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine #honkai star rail x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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blue-jisungs · 3 months

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Helloo first of all merry christmas and happy early new year (or whatever holidays you celebrate)!!!! I don't know if your OPLA requests are still open, but i would absolutely LOVE a stabilished relationship sanji x (gn) reader where reader is kind of an ambivert who tends to be embarassed to speak their mind when they're uncomfy or when they need something, so sanji always keeps an eye on them to check if they're okay. Sort of like a couple who has their own language that no one else understands, just reallyyyy fluffy stuff

If you don't feel like writing it it's totally okay!!! Have a nice day<3

code

author's note. hi anonnie!! sorry for such a late reply <\3 i don’t celebrate but thank u hehe i hope u had a nice time too ^^ to be honest i’m not really happy with how this turned out but i couldn’t think of anything else :( either way, i hope you enjoy it even a little bit :D

it was no secret that you have the tendency to get shy, especially when asking for something. it’s been always a struggle of yours, more often than not ending up in a position you didn’t want to find yourself in simply because you failed to ask for something… or deny.

which you were fine with, technically. sure, no one enjoys being in uncomfortable situations but you got used to it.

however, dating sanji was a turning point in your life. previously, your family and strangers would ignore your needs or just assume that if you didn’t deny anything, you were fine with it. this bad habit of yours took sanji a while to crack.

just like when you turned in the baratie for the first time with a friend of yours.

“anything else, pretty?” the handsome (your future to be boyfriend, not like you knew) blonde man asked with a charming smile. your friend shook jer head while you blinked. sanji used this opportunity to persuade you into ordering more “may i offer something?”

you were absolutely full, no more space in your stomach whatsoever. it was sure you wouldn’t fit more but–

“maybe dessert? such a sweet person deserves a tiramisu to end their day” sanji’s pearly whites glinted in a warm smile. and you nodded shyly, almost awkwardly.

he didn’t pay attention to it then but at the end of the day, laying down before sleep… his memory recalled the resistance in your eyes but a fake smile of acceptance.

since you dined at baratie quite often (yes, he was one of the reasons) sanji started to recognize your habits. that you ordered even if you were full or didn’t like a certain dish… and how you sometimes even forced yourself to eat it because you didn’t want him or the cooks to feel bad.

which made his heart clench – both with worry and because of how cute you are.

with him being your boyfriend and lots of free time on the going merry, which you joined because you two couldn’t stand the possibility of being far away from each other and luffy not minding at all (“the more the merrier”, he said), sanji promised himself to work on it. for your own good because he hated the fact that some people could get advantage of you.

like usopp.

“hiyaaaa y/n! would you mind cleaning the crow’s nest for me?” usopp asked, the usual wide grin adorning his face. you blinked, embarrassed to deny yet…

“wh… um…” you started and the great captain put the broom in your hands, patting your arm

“thanks! i’m sooo tired, you know?” he stretched dramatically, eyes closing. you had plans – you were supposed to help sanji in making dinner… but now…

“they’re not cleaning anything, usppp”

the boy’s eyes shot open and he jolted upon hearing sanji’s voice. the cook didn’t look so friendly – arms crossed, cold look in his ocean eyes.

“oh yeah, right! no problem… it was a joke you see!” usopp chuckled nervously and took the broom back.

“joke my ass. do not use them like that or next time the broom is getting shoved–”

“woah, woah, woah… i got the message” usopp squeaked and ran away to the crow’s nest. you pouted.

“sorry…” a sigh escaped your lips and sanji stepped closer, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“no, no. don’t apologize, there’s no need. but we need to work on that, darling” he smiled tenderly and pecked your forehead.

one day after telling sanji that you’re just too embarrassed to say no or speak your mind, he came up with an idea – that you have a secret code. obviously if you were too shy, you’d just tap him or wink twice. at first, you thought it was silly. but sooner than you imagined, you came to a conclusion that it’s a pretty brilliant idea.

additionally, even if you didn’t know about that, your boyfriend always kept his eye on you. scanning your face and reactions so he could barge in anytime; as creepy as it sounded because of that sanji knew you like the back of your hand and sometimes even without using words, he knew that you were uncomfortable.

“so, so, so! we should head out! there’s no time to lose!” luffy announced on a random monday morning, almost jumping off the walls “we’re going to y/n’s family island!”

your eyes widened as you watched the captain terrified, sanji instantly tensing.

“w… what? why?” you stuttered and luffy stopped in his tracks.

“it’s famous for its sewing arts, right? we need new clothes… and it’s gonna be fun! we’ll meet your family!” luffy grinned.

you felt sanji’s hand on yours, tapping your thumb twice. “are you okay?”, that’s what the gesture meant. you looked at him, hesitantly shaking your head.

“d-…” you didn’t even manage to choke out, puffing your cheeks.

“do we have to? we can get clothes everywhere” the blonde asked, moving his thumb in a soothing motion. sanji asked exactly what you wanted to. maintaining eye contact, he nodded. “i’ve got this”

“but y/n’s family…” luffy whined, pouting.

“y/n should speak for herself on this matter, luffy. maybe she doesn’t want to see them?” sanji hummed.

luffy has a golden heart and pure soul but sometimes could get a bit too much… and doesn’t understand some human reactions. and it’s not like you hated your family – you just left in a hurry, a tense atmosphere in the household. and you just weren’t ready to return.

“so?” luffy asked, rising his eyebrows. sanji squeezed your hand, encouraging you.

“i don’t really want to… see them. right now.” you mumbled shyly “sorr–”

“no, no. don’t say sorry, i just… wanted to surprise you” luffy smiled, his eyes twinkling. he came up to you and patted your head “we’ll go there once you’re ready. just tell me!”

nodding shyly, you watched luffy leave. sanji grinned and cupped your face.

“what? was it bad?” you asked, blinking.

“no, darling. you were very brave” he cooed and placed a soft kiss on your lips “i’m proud”

then sanji moved his hand to your back and drummed a melody, signalling that usopp is coming. you snickered and pecked his cheek, being met with a loud whine coming from the boy who just entered the room.

masterlist <3

taglist. @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 8 months

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darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 5: Forgotten

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. Your family gains new additions.

Hello! My sincere apologies for how long this took. I got massively sidetracked by researching how to bind a book, the interest in which hit at a completely inappropriate time in the writing-editing-crafting cycle, lol. I should definitely be focusing on finishing this thing before I start fixating on binding books. Anyway; this chapter is a little time-jumpy, given that I have to speed through a bunch of time. Also, note that I've fudged with the ages of Alicent's kids, so in Episode 3, know that she is now pregnant with Aemond, not Helaena like in the show. It's the only way to make him of-age in the Episode 8 scenes. Thank you to @randomdragonfires for workshopping this shitto for me, ahahaha! Happy (and well-deserved) holidays to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs, who I have graciously given a night off of slaving away for me, lol.

TRIGGERS: continued discussion of child grief, Viserys's shenanigans in impregnating an underaged Alicent (canon, this is NOT MY ADDITION).

When Alicent gets married to Papa, they have a big ceremony. So so many people come from all over the kingdom to see Papa take a new Queen, and the days of the wedding—there are lots of days to them starting in marriage—are full of more noise and colour and movement than you could ever think was real.

Her dress is very pretty, and Papa looks very nice in his new coat, but neither of them look so happy as people who are going to be in marriage should be. Papa keeps playing with the ring on his finger that is from Mama, while Alicent just looks like she is afraid. You think it might be because of how loud everyone is being.

’Nyra isn’t happy, either. She keeps you on her lap the entire time with an angry look on her face and doesn’t speak to Alicent very much at all, but at least she tries to be kind when she does. She ignores Papa, and because you are all sitting at the high table and everyone is watching you, he cannot tell her she is being rude and naughty.

Because you don’t want to look at Alicent’s unhappy face or ’Nyra’s angry one, you play with your sister’s necklace, letting the shiny metal take all your attention. It is Valyrian steel, which is what Papa’s and Uncle’s swords are made out of, so it is very special. Uncle gave it to her. When you let your fingers swirl over the ruby in the middle of the big pendant over and over, you pretend that it’s a part of him and that he’s here, after all.

After the big ceremony is done, life goes back to almost-normal. Now that Alicent is Papa’s Queen, she is something called a stepmother, meaning that Brella and Septa and all the people who are made to look after you and ’Nyra have to talk to her about you both. She is like your mama. You wake up and break your fast with Alicent, and she cuts up your food instead of Mama, and she takes you outside to play and tells you about the names of the flowers. Then, when it is time to sleep again, she reads you a story. You think that she likes it very much because she always seems sad until she sees you, and then her face goes bright like the sun.

‘Nyra doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like it at all. When she learns that Alicent is acting like your mama, her face goes very red like she’s going to scream, but she just goes very quiet instead and storms out of your rooms. For that whole day, ’Nyra takes you to the gardens and to see Syrax and to the library to learn some more High Valyrian, her new sworn shield Ser Criston behind her all the time. She never once lets you go see Alicent to do the things you normally do. When you finally get to be in the room with her at suppertime with Papa and ’Nyra, which Papa has said you all must do now so that everyone can get along, all she does is give you a small smile that doesn’t make her eyes go bright like usual and ask about your big day with your sister.

That is how things are for a while. Either you will go through your days with Alicent or with ’Nyra, and never both in one day because ’Nyra is still so angry at Alicent for being in marriage with Papa. You keep asking why, but your sister doesn’t tell you anything. She just goes quiet and frowns and mutters things you cannot hear. Meanwhile, Alicent will always stop, take a big breath that sounds shaky when she lets it out, and say, “I have no quarrel with Rhaenyra. She is as welcome to my rooms and in my company as you are, Princess.”

You think that might be a lie.

One day, though, everything changes.

’Nyra decides to take you to the library so that you can look at more books in High Valyrian. Even the books written in the Common Tongue make no sense to you yet, and Brella told you this is because you are not old enough to learn reading properly. Still, your sister says that it is still good to try when you’re young, so she sits beside you and points out all the funny-looking symbols and tells you what they mean all together. You fall asleep in there instead of having a nap in your bed, but ’Nyra just puts a blanket over you and keeps reading. When you wake, you listen to her voice as she speaks the words from the pages aloud. You don’t understand all of it, but you think you’ve learned more and more since Mama died and she stopped being friends with Alicent. It means she has lots of time for you. Maybe that shouldn’t make you happy, but you cannot help it.

At supper, you see Lord Hightower, Alicent’s papa, beside her. That means that you have to be next to ’Nyra tonight, so you follow her to her side of the table and sit in the chair that the maid pulls out for you. The chair is higher than the others, made special so that you can reach the food that is put before you. Looking around, it is easy to tell that something is different from how happy Lord Hightower looks and how smiling Papa’s face is.

“My two daughters,” he says a bit too loudly, cheeks bright red. His cup is in front of him, and the gold shines red from the drink inside. Wine, you think. It is for men and women, not little girls, and it makes the people who drink it act strange like Papa is now. He waves his hand in a ‘hello’ as he lifts his cup to his mouth and takes a sip. “Ah!”

’Nyra starts eating her food without a word. Everyone has plates with different foods on it, but you have a bowl in front of your seat. Because you are small, the cooks always give you pottage for your supper so that you can eat it with a spoon and no one has to cut things up for you. You don’t always like it—there are lots of lumps and you can never tell what taste is going to be in your mouth with each bite—but it is warm and makes your tummy nice and full.

The room is full of the sounds of chewing and clack-clacking when the knives and forks hit the plates. You pick up your spoon and scoop up some food. There are dark bits, which means the cooks have put meat in it. You scrunch your nose.

Papa coughs between bites. He is still smiling a lot. “It seems like an age since I saw you last!”

“We had supper with you yesterday evening,” ’Nyra says.

“Ah, yes!” He takes another drink of his wine. Maybe he shouldn’t, because he is blinking very much like you do when you’re trying to stay awake. “Perhaps the waiting has made it seem longer.”

“Waiting?”

“I am sure you have noticed Otto’s presence by now.”

’Nyra doesn’t even look at the man. “My lord.” Her voice seems cold.

“Princess.” Lord Hightower bends his head, but he doesn’t sound very happy either.

Alicent puts her hand on Papa’s arm. ’Nyra watches so closely that you wonder if her eyes can make holes in other people’s skin. “I—we—have some news, Rhaenyra.”

“Oh?” She sounds bored.

“Well…”

When Alicent doesn’t say anything, ’Nyra makes a huffing noise. It is very rude. “Well?” she asks, looking between Alicent and Papa. “What is it, then? Everyone’s acting rather strange.”

“Alicent is with child,” Papa says.

‘With child’ is what people say when a baby is growing in a lady’s belly. It’s what Mama told you before Baelon grew very large inside her.

’Nyra freezes, almost like she has forgotten how to move. No one says anything. Papa’s smile—the one that his words made so much bigger when he said them out loud—begins to fall, more and more with each moment that ’Nyra does nothing at all. Then, it goes away completely, and he’s no longer happy like he was.

It’s quiet again. Not the nice kind—the kind that means that someone is about to yell or be naughty.

“A baby?” you ask. Maybe you can stop the bad from happening if you help everyone remember that you’re still here.

Alicent looks at you, the fear leaving her face a little. She nods. “Yes, Princess. You’re to have a brother or sis—”

“Half-brother.” ’Nyra’s lips move, but the rest of her stays still. She cannot stop staring between Papa and Alicent. “Or half-sister. Either way, they will not be your full blood.”

“You are correct, Princess.” From the way Lord Hightower speaks and how silent Alicent and Papa are at ’Nyra’s words, you think she must have said something quite mean. He gives her a little smile, one that makes her hands squeeze really tight on her knife and fork. “Even so, these are glad tidings, indeed. Let us all pray for the Queen to be delivered of a son.”

“I’m sure that would be of great benefit to the Hightowers, my Lord. A son… to solidify your claim to my father’s throne.”

Lord Hightower stops smiling. Alicent gasps.

Papa makes a small noise. “Rhaenyra—”

All at once, she stands, the plate in front of her clattering loudly with how quick she rises. “Congratulations, Your Grace.” She doesn’t sound very happy for Alicent, even if the words are nice. “Forgive me—I feel suddenly unwell.”

“Daughter—”

’Nyra ignores Papa and storms out of the room, leaving her food only half-eaten. The rest of supper is very quiet, the loudest noise of all being the sound of your own breathing.

Isn’t a baby meant to be happy news? you wonder. You look around, but no one here is very happy—except for Lord Hightower. Though he isn’t smiling, he has his head held high like he has had every one of his wishes granted all at once.

“What do you think, Princess?” Brella asks.

You stare down into the cradle at the baby. Your brother. Aegon. He is squirming, face bright red, squished and crying. He hasn’t stopped even once since you came into the room. He might have been crying since before you did, even. Aside from the bright hair on top of his head, you don’t think he looks very much like you.

“He’s nice,” is what you say, but you don’t know if you really mean it. It’s more for Alicent, who is watching you from over on the bed. She looks very tired. If you said something less kind, she may cry.

Alicent smiles. “Thank you, Princess. Nurse—bring him to me, please.”

She doesn’t mean Brella. There is another woman here, Gwenys, who Lord Hightower and Septa Marlow assigned to help give Aegon milk and take care of him when Alicent cannot. Gwenys comes and picks up the baby, walking over to give him to Alicent. She rocks him in her arms which doesn’t stop him from crying, but she still keeps on bouncing him softly. He is very unhappy.

Now that Alicent is holding Aegon, you know that she’ll forget you are there. Ever since Papa told you and ’Nyra that he was in Alicent’s belly, neither of them have had much time for you. It feels like all the people in the Keep—from Papa and Alicent and Lord Hightower to the servants and maids and stableboys—have been more excited for the baby than they ever were for you. The only person who has remembered you is ’Nyra, and so you are with her on most days. It sometimes makes you sad, because it really was very fun to play pretend that Alicent was your mama for a while, but ’Nyra says that it wasn’t going to last, anyway.

“She is to have her own child to care for, now,” she told you in the days after learning about the new baby. “You were good practice—but you aren’t her blood, not really. Not like you and I. Her son will be born, and you’ll be given to a nurse or a Septa to raise.” When you cried, she bent down and wiped away your tears. “It doesn’t make her a bad person,” she said quietly. “But this is the way of the world, sister. Men and women, kings and queens… they all want sons. Us daughters must stick together, yes?”

’Nyra was right. At first, Alicent tried to keep pretending to be like your mama. But then, the baby made her very ill, so she stopped asking you to come to break your fast so you wouldn’t have to see her being sick into the pail by her bed. Then, she spent so much time sleeping that she didn’t have the energy to come outside with you, or to dance with you, and soon, the only time you would see her was at suppertime. Even that wasn’t always. And now the baby is here, you don’t think she will be going back to the way it used to be.

Maybe that is why he feels like such a stranger to you. At least with baby Baelon, you got to feel him kicking in Mama’s tummy. Aegon wasn’t here for so long, and then all of a sudden, he was. He is. You don’t know him at all. He’s just a baby, come to take your Papa and almost-Mama away from you like all the rest.

Brella’s hand on your shoulder is what helps you walk towards the door, Alicent and Aegon staying in the room behind you. With your back turned, it’s easier to pretend that Alicent is very sad by you leaving.

The more moons pass, the more faded Mama’s face is in your memory. You try to hold onto the way her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she smiled, or how her hair would curl a bit like yours after her bath, or the way she’d smell like roses when she hugged you tight. It slips away, out of reach. Putting rose oil in your bath helps you, but only a little bit—and the longer that Mama is gone, the less you can remember of her.

Papa doesn’t like to talk about her. When you ask him, he just spins the ring on his finger around and says, “Another time, perhaps.” You know that ‘another time’ really means ‘never’.

There is no one else in the Keep that really knew her like you and your family knew her, except ’Nyra. She tells you stories sometimes, but you don’t ask a lot because she usually likes to tell the ones that have you in them. When she finishes, she always smiles and asks, “Do you remember?” You never can, and it leaves you feeling like someone has scooped out all your insides.

So, Mama fades, and becomes part of that place in your mind where the things that are being forgotten go. Even though you try and try and try, there is nothing that can stop the forgetting. One day, you think she might be nothing more than a quiet sort of sadness, like looking out the window at the rain and wondering why it makes your chest hurt so much.

Seeing Alicent with Aegon is the only thing that reminds you of her. Even though Alicent’s hair is red where Mama’s was silver, and Aegon is loud and angry where you are quiet and shy, the way that she kisses his cheeks or hums little songs under her breath to him makes you think of how Mama would do the same for you. He doesn’t seem to be very happy when she does these things. If it were you in his place, you know you’d be better than him. You wish she’d realise that.

It seems like no time at all goes by when Alicent is with child again, meaning she’s going to have another baby. If it is anything like Aegon, you do not think you’ll like it very much. Sometimes, you feel very naughty for it, but you cannot help how he makes you feel. All he wants to do is make a fuss and take everyone’s attention, and he keeps crying and being naughty even as Alicent’s belly grows bigger and bigger with your new brother or sister.

When Helaena is born, Papa and Lord Hightower aren’t as pleased as they were with Aegon. You can tell because, while they are both in the room when you come to meet her, neither one is looking at her as she lays in the cradle. They had both been looking down at Aegon last time. You think it is because Helaena is a girl, like you and ’Nyra. You decide that you have to love her if they won’t.

She is a quiet baby, but so still that it makes Gwenys worry and worry, even though all she is doing is lying in her cradle and staring straight up. Maybe she knows how rude her big brother is, you think, and she wants to do and be all the things he isn’t.

You weren’t allowed to hold Aegon because he was so disagreeable, which means he would probably have screamed and cried if you did. He still screams and cries, which is why Alicent has to spend all her days with him even though she’s just had a second baby, so Helaena is by herself with Gwenys most hours.

Helaena isn’t like Aegon. This time, Gwenys has you sit in a chair with a pillow under your arm and brings the baby to you. “Mind her head,” she says, tugging your arm forward so that Helaena fits nicely in your arms. “There we go.”

She is a big baby, round and heavy and warm, but you don’t mind because she gazes up at you with large blue eyes that look like they might turn purple when she gets older. The hairs she has on her head—and there aren’t many, not like Aegon had—are silver, and you know that she will look very much like you when she has grown more. When you stroke a finger over the skin on her hand, her whole fist grabs onto it, strong even though she is so young. It’s like she knows who you are, even without any words being said.

You wonder if this is how ’Nyra felt when she met you—a burning that tingles all through your arms and legs, not in a way that hurts, no, but in a way that makes you want to squeeze tight and never let go.

Helaena doesn’t cry. She falls asleep while you’re holding her, her face turned into you so that you can feel her tiny breaths through your dress. It is special and warm and love-feeling like Alicent used to be, like Mama was when she was not-dead. The hurt goes far away, still there but not so much, not so heavy in your chest.

For a little while, the sadness—of forgetting Mama, of being forgotten by so many others—fades away, too.

When you are five summers old, you have to say goodbye to Brella.

All the while you are breaking your fast, she looks like she is about to start crying. Even though you wonder why, you don’t ask. When someone cries, it means that something bad has happened. So much bad has already happened, and you don’t know if you want to hear any more. You eat in quiet, scooping porridge into your mouth while the sound of sniffles fills the room. The taste of honey would make you feel happy, but not when Brella is so upset. Your food sinks to the bottom of your belly like one of the hot bricks you sometimes get under your blankets when it’s very cold at night, only there’s nothing nice about it. It’s hard and rough and makes you feel sick.

After you have finished every bite—you have to eat all of it, or you don’t get to play—Brella takes you by the hand and leads you to the chair. “There is… there is something I have to tell you,” she says, slow and shaky.

I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. You wish that you were like ’Nyra, that you could say the words out loud—but you cannot. You don’t want to know, but you say nothing, and you wait for whatever bad thing is coming to show itself.

“I…” Brella swallows and looks down at your hands, still holding onto each other even though you are sitting and there is no need. “Tell me again how old you are, Princess.”

“Five summers.” It’s a very small number, but you are still proud because you’re almost a big girl now.

Brella laughs, nodding. “That’s right. Five. My goodness. How time flies!”

You find that silly. Time doesn’t fly. It isn’t a thing-you-can-touch, and only things-you-can-touch can fly, like dragons or birds or insects. Still, you try not to show your thinking on your face as Brella squeezes your hand tighter.

“Being five summers old is a very important milestone when you’re a prince or princess,” she says. “Do you know why?”

“No,” you say. “Why?”

Here, she stops. “It… It means—gods, I don’t know if I can say it.”

“Well, then. It appears that I must,” comes a voice from the door.

You turn. Septa Marlow stands with her hands joined in front of her, her mouth pinched into a line so small it is like it has disappeared from her face. Her grey wimple makes her skin look just as colourless. She steps forward, and the sound of her shoes touching the ground seems as loud as thunder.

“You are of an age to begin your lessons, Princess. Thus, it is time for your nurse”—she looks at Brella and her lip curls, though you cannot tell if she’s happy or angry—“to depart, and for me to take over your care.”

The sick feeling gets worse, and you wonder if you might bring up all your food from how bad the pains are in your belly. “But—but Brella will still stay, though? For Aegon and Helaena?”

Septa Marlow huffs. “There is no need, silly child. Their nurse has already been appointed, and Gwenys will suffice for any future children borne by the Queen. Brella is to collect her things and return to the Vale.”

Brella has taught you some of the places on the map that shows Papa’s kingdom. You live in King’s Landing, which is in the Crownlands, and it is at the bottom of the map. The Vale is where Mother—Mother, not Mama, Mama is for babies and I am not a baby anymore, you have to keep telling yourself—came from, that it is a bit up and to the side from the Crownlands. It isn’t that far in the drawings, but Brella says that maps show a smaller picture of what is really a very, very long distance.

If Brella has to return to the Vale, it means she will be very, very far away.

You think you might be frozen, like ice. You cannot say anything. All that you can think, over and over, is no, no, no, please, not Brella, no, no, no. The fire-burn of tears warms behind your eyes, but you know that you cannot let Septa see you cry. She’ll think you are weak.

Brella sniffles. “I can write to you,” she says, pulling you closer to her. “And, when you’re old enough, you can write to me. How about that?”

You nod, but her words don’t make you feel better. Paper isn’t the same as a person, not really. Even if she puts letters on paper and sends them to you, it won’t be like one of her hugs or the way she laughs when you miss a dance step or fall over in the grass. It won’t smell like her or look like her. It won’t make you feel safe like she does.

She will turn not-real like Mother. Only, maybe it is worse—because you’ll know that, somewhere a long way away from you, she will be real, but that you cannot have her anymore.

“I don’t want you to go,” is what you say, but it comes out like a whisper, not strong like you wanted it to.

“I know, my darling,” Brella says, hugging you tight so that you can feel her heart beating through her skin and yours. “I know, and I’m so sorry—”

“If you could unhand my charge, Nurse.” Septa’s eyebrow is raised. “Although—now that it occurs to me—‘nurse’ is no longer the appropriate moniker, is it?”

Brella glares at her. “There’s no need to be so—”

“Your time here is at an end.” Even though she looks like she’s trying not to show her feelings on her face, Septa lifts her chin in the air like ’Nyra used to when she would win at cyvasse against Alicent. “Say your goodbyes.”

“What—here? Now?” Brella’s mouth is open like she’s very surprised. “I’d thought the Princess would be coming to see me off at the harb—”

“That is not a good idea. She is too… attached.” Septa says it like it is a curse. “A public display of histrionics does not a respectable Princess make, no matter her juvenility.” You have no idea what most of these words mean, but the way they make Brella sink in her seat cannot be a good thing.

She tucks your hair behind your ears as she looks down at you, her eyes wet. “Be good,” she says, very soft so that Septa cannot hear them well. “Make sure you write to me, yes?”

She brushes her thumbs over your cheeks—out, in, out, in—the way she does when she really means ‘I love you’.

“Please stay,” you whisper, trying not to let your lower lip wobble like it wants to so badly. “Please don’t go.”

Brella hugs you again, her whole body shaking. Your face is smushed up against her shoulder, the smell of her herness filling your nose with so much warm. You wonder if, by clinging on tight, you can stop her from leaving. She cannot leave. She is what you have left now that Mam—Mother is gone, now that Papa has Alicent and ’Nyra has Papa and Uncle has his war somewhere away from you. She cannot leave. She cannot.

It feels like she has been holding on for forever and also for no time at all when she lets go, stands up, and walks away without a word. The door shuts.

She didn’t even say goodbye.

Is it worse or better, watching her go away? you wonder through the cold that settles in your body, in your arms and legs, the sharpness of it so much that you feel like shivering even though the sun is shining hot outside. You never saw Mother die. She was here, and then she wasn’t. But you have to watch Brella leave, knowing there is nothing you can do to stop it all the while.

“Dry your tears, girl. ‘Tis about time your coddling came to an end.” Septa pulls you by the shoulder off the chair. Her hand doesn’t feel warm like Brella’s does. Her stare—fixed on you—travels up and down, her mouth crinkling at the corner like she is thinking about something. “Why she was allowed to linger past your name day, I will never understand.”

You cannot think of anything to say, so you keep quiet. It doesn’t seem to make Septa like you any more than she did before, which you don’t think was very much. The tears keep falling, though you try and try to make them disappear.

“Now,” she says, clapping her hands sharply. The loudness of the noise makes you jump. Teardrops shake onto your dress. “We have a long day ahead of us. The Queen has requested an update on your progress, so you will be learning no less than three hymns before the end of the sennight. I should like to provide her with”—she looks you up and down again, and this time it seems like she is thinking something unkind about you—“some indication that you will shape up to be a lady of high standing.”

I’m a Princess, not a lady, you want to say. You don’t.

Septa begins striding away, then stops and turns around to face you. “I expect you to follow when I walk, and to acknowledge me when I speak by saying ‘Yes, Septa Marlow’.” She almost spits the words at you. “Understood?”

“Yes, Septa Marlow.” It doesn’t sound as strong or as clear as when she said it. You wish you could sound less afraid. Still, she seems to find it good enough. She says nothing afterward, just waits for you to trail along after her.

“Hmph.” She clicks her tongue. Staring down at you again, she adds, “And stand up straight.”

You do as you’re told.

Septa Marlow is as frightfully mean as you always feared.

One thing you learn quickly is that everything you do and say is wrong. When you laugh, it is too ‘unbecoming’; when you smile, you show too much teeth; when you walk, you are too hunched over; when you eat, you are too ‘gluttonous’. You’re a ‘simpleton’ when you ask to play with your dolls, so they sit at the foot of your bed slowly being covered by dust; you’re ‘graceless’ when you try to dance, so you practice after you have been put to bed to try and get better before each morning; you’re ‘impertinent’ when you say what you’re thinking instead of keeping it to yourself, so you learn to let your thoughts stay inside your head. There is little that she doesn’t pick on and tell you that you need to change.

“Use full words, please!” she says whenever you forget to speak in the proper way that she expects. She always raps her willow switch on the table in front of you after that. Lucky for you, she has not yet used it to hurt you. “It is ‘does not’, not ‘doesn’t’. There is no need to employ such low-class mannerisms as a lady of your standing!”

“Yes, Septa Marlow.” There is no point trying to tell her that she’s wrong.

It isn’t all bad, though. Having Septa Marlow take over means that you are now expected to learn all sorts of things, and a lot of it is very interesting. New words, new Houses, new hymns, new dances—you start to learn how to sew, how to put letters together to read them, how to count numbers and add and take them away to make different numbers. Septa says that there are so many things a noblewoman like you needs to be able to do by the time she is ready to be married, so that she can run her husband’s household and take care of him and her future children. That is a long time from now, but practice makes perfect.

The only time you are not with Septa is when you are with your family, like today.

Because Aegon has lived past being a baby—and Septa says that babies die a lot from the weather or from being sick or from being fed too much or too little or sometimes for no reason at all—Papa has announced that everyone must go on a hunt to celebrate his name day. You have to sit in the wheelhouse with he and Alicent and ’Nyra and Aegon and three other nurses, but not Helaena. She’s only a baby still, so she must stay in the Keep with Gwenys.

It is not a very fun ride. Being in a wheelhouse with them all means putting ’Nyra very close to Alicent, whose belly has grown big with a baby again. Lots of people have lots to say about how many babies Alicent has had since she married Papa, and most of it is not very nice towards your mother. She could only have two girls, and it took her a long time to have you after ’Nyra.

Papa thinks there is another boy in Alicent’s belly. You hope not. Aegon is loud and rude. You think it might be worse if there were two of him instead of just one.

“…whole of our family off to celebration and adventure in the Kingswood,” Papa is saying. You swing your legs back and forth, though you must stop each time you roll over a big bump in the road. You stay quiet, because Septa says a lady does not talk unless she is asked a question.

A very big bump in the road makes Alicent’s smile fall from her face.

“Should you be travelling in such condition?” ’Nyra asks. She sounds worried, even though she is no longer friends with Alicent.

“The maester said that being out in nature would do me well,” is what Alicent says back.

Papa starts talking while he finishes giving Aegon a sip from his cup. You wonder if it’s wine. “Well, you will be with your own child sooner than late, and make me a proud grandsire.” He is smiling, perhaps at the thought of it.

‘No, I will not,’ the look on ’Nyra’s face seems to say. You cannot help but agree with her. Having babies seems like such a tiring thing to do.

“It's not so bad.” Alicent has to speak louder to be heard over the rattling of the wheels and the hoofbeats of the horses. “The days are long, but Aegon came quickly and without fuss. Helaena, too.”

The nurse who is holding Aegon in her lap—Delia, you think her name is—waves a toy dragon in front of him. He smacks at it with his hands, frowning. You would never treat your toys like that.

“You should ride out with me today,” Papa says to ’Nyra. “Join in the chase, while you”—his eyes go to you—“sit about with your lady stepmother. Hm?”

“Okay, Papa,” you say quietly. Proper ladies do what their fathers tell them to.

’Nyra’s hand finds yours. “I’d rather not. The boars squeal like children when they're being slaughtered.” From the way her fingers squeeze yours and her stare fixes on Aegon, you know she doesn’t mean you when she says that. “I find it discomfiting.”

“It's a hunt, Rhaenyra.” Papa smiles. It is a careful sort of smile, not a happy one. Aegon’s yell distracts him for a moment, but he is quick to return to speaking to ’Nyra. “How would you like to participate?” he asks her.

“I’d be leaving my sister alone with the vultures of the Realm,” ’Nyra says, “so I'm not sure why I must.”

Trying to understand what everyone means by what they say is very difficult—you aren’t sure if she’s saying that the ladies coming along are vultures, or if she’s trying to say Alicent is. You don’t even know what a vulture is, so you aren’t sure if it is a bad or good thing to be.

“Because you are my eldest daughter. The Princess.” Papa looks like he is finding it harder and harder to stop himself from telling ’Nyra off. “And you have duties.”

“As I am ceaselessly reminded.” Your sister says it softly, but it is easy enough for you to hear from your place next to her.

Papa doesn’t, though. “I'm sorry?”

Instead of making up a lie or saying that she did not say anything at all, ’Nyra repeats herself louder. It is terribly rude, but you enjoy watching as you have always enjoyed watching her being brave against other people. “As I am ceaselessly reminded.”

“You wouldn't need to be reminded if you ever attended to them.”

“No one's here for me!”

Papa doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Neither does Alicent. They both just fall silent along with the nurses. Even Aegon stops making all his annoying noises, instead sitting so still that he could be sleeping if his eyes were not open.

You make sure to hold onto your sister’s hand even tighter. If there is anyone in the whole world who does know what to say, it is you. If only you were brave enough.

I understand, ’Nyra, you want to say. No one’s here for me, either. No one’s ever here for me.

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janeyseymour · 4 months

Note

this is my first time ever sending a request so lmk if i’m doing this right :)

was wondering if you could make a melissa x fem stoner reader. melissa isn’t aware of the habit and has no reason to be suspicious or bring things up. one day melissa comes unexpectedly comes home to find fem reader lighting up in the kitchen sparking a very interesting conversation

i love your writing and i hope this makes sense thank you :))

Hi! I think I deviated from the path a little... but I hope it still makes you smile!

*This has also been in the works for a week and I've just been so busy with teaching and the holidays... oh LAWD, so it's entirely unedited... my b, my b*

Weeds

WC: 3.3k

“Babe, are you sure you don’t want to come?” Melissa asks you one final time. She’s all but rolling her bag out to the car.

“I told you, Mel,” you chuckle. “You and Barb deserve to go have a nice relaxing weekend- just the two of you.”

“Barb wouldn’t mind,” the redhead tells you. “She loves you, and you know it.”

“I know,” you smile and take her hand gently. “But you two deserve to go have a nice weekend without the partners where you can talk shit all you want whenever you want.”

“Like I would ever talk shit on you,” she rolls her eyes.

“Go, baby,” you tell her gently. “I’ll be just fine on my own. I’ll probably catch up on sleep and grade some papers.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “But if anything happens, please call me, and I’ll come home.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m a fully grown adult, Mel. I lived on my own before I moved in with you,” you remind her.

“I know, I know,” she says quietly. “I just worry about you- especially with your migraines being worse around this time of year.”

“I have the medicine,” you tell her. “I’ll be just fine. Go.”

She kisses you gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble against her lips. You pull back. “I expect to see lots of pictures- especially of you at the pool.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” your girlfriend laughs. “Okay, I have to go, but I’ll see you on Sunday night.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday night,” you reply. “Please let me know when you get there safely.”

“I will,” she promises and kisses you once more.

Your Friday night is nearly perfect. You’re able to do some laundry, you get the reading tests graded, you’re able to drink a few glasses of wine and curl up to watch a movie while you eat Chinese takeout. The only thing that could make it perfect would be if Melissa were next to you. Your girlfriend sends you a picture of her and her work wife together at the pool, drinks in hand.

You look amazing. Have fun, babe, you send.

We will, she replies quickly. You’re doing okay?

I did our laundry, graded my reading tests, ordered Chinese food, and I’m curled up drinking a glass of wine and watching Bruce Almighty- the sister in that movie looks a lot like you!

I’m glad you’re enjoying your Friday night, she texts. I’ll talk to you later, I love you.

I love you too Mel. Enjoy your time, and tell Barb I said hello.

You end up dozing on the couch, and when you wake up around midnight, the television is playing softly, you’re still all cozy up under your blankets, and your phone is laying next to you with a few unread messages.

Melissa sent you a picture of her drinking another glass of wine, her cleavage on full display.

No response?

I guess you fell asleep watching your movie like you usually do.

Barb and I are turning in for the night. I love you.

You save the image to your phone before responding, Sorry. Dozed off on the couch. I love you too.

Your head hurts slightly, and not just in the way that one glass of wine would give you a minor headache. Nope. The spot behind your temple starts to throb, and you clench your jaw. A migraine was coming on. You drag yourself off of the couch and into your bedroom where you blindly reach for the bottle of pills you keep in your nightstand. You take one and lay down, hoping that you took your medication soon enough that you’ll just be able to sleep through it and not have to deal with it tomorrow.

When you wake up again, you’re fine. There’s a trace of a headache, but you chalk that up to the fact that you had a few glasses of wine last night. You make yourself a cup of coffee, you heat up some of the breakfast casserole that Melissa left you, and you get comfortable on the couch with a blanket and the book that you’ve been trying to get through since before you and Melissa started dating- you just never have the time anymore. You’re either busy teaching, planning for your classes, prepping materials for the kids, grading papers, or you’re out doing something with your girlfriend.

You send her a picture of your set up: the blanket, the book, your coffee, and on the television you have a fireplace video with soft music going. Taking the day to relax after this insane week with the kids.

It’s early, earlier than the two of you usually wake up on a weekend, so you set your phone down and open your book. You get through approximately twenty pages before you’re asleep again.

When you wake up, you feel absolutely terrible. Your head is aching, and you’re not sure if you can even stand without wanting to simply shrivel up. So that headache this morning wasn’t the remnants of a hangover- no. It was a migraine starting, and you once again made a foolish choice.

You cry out as the sound of the youtube video you have up on the television pauses and a rather loud ad comes on. You turn it off in an instant. You know there has to be at least one other migraine pill in the house.

But when you get upstairs and pull open your drawer of the nightstand, your pill bottle is empty. You burst into tears at that- the last of your medication is with Melissa… in the Poconos. You slam the drawer shut in frustration before you can even think about it, and you instantly regret your choice. It bangs shut, and you flinch as it closes.

You’re just going to have to get through this migraine without any medication. It’s going to suck, and you know you’re going to be all but paralyzed when it fully hits.

You’re not going to call Melissa and tell her- she would drive back home to take care of you, even though you would be sleeping. You groan as you walk downstairs and turn off your phone entirely so you aren’t even tempted with the idea of texting her.

Then you think… you haven’t smoked in a while- since you and Melissa started going out, really. It’s been over a year.You have your dab pen in the nightstand drawer, and getting high always helped when you had bad headaches. It took your pain away.

Despite the absolute killer pain behind your eyes, you drag yourself upstairs and dig around in the drawer for your pen. You take a hit, and then another. That should do the trick- you just have to let it hit you. You head back downstairs, collapsing onto the couch and closing your eyes.

You’re beyond high not fifteen minutes later. It’s been almost two years since you’ve smoked, and it’s clear your tolerance for the drug went down. You giggle, thankful that your searing headache seems to have magically cleared up. You turn the television on, finding a brainless show to watch while you aren’t sober.

It starts to wear off after an hour, and so your migraine pains start up again. Your jaw clenches as a shiver runs up your back, only causing more pain to your already tense head. You trudge back up the steps, and you bring your pen down with you after ripping it a few times. You settle on the couch, a glass of water and a bag of chips in hand while you continue to watch your show.

Melissa and Barbara are sitting in a restaurant when the older teacher’s phone starts to ring. Taylor’s contact picture lights up her phone, and she shoots the redhead an apologetic look before picking up.

“Hello?” Barbara’s face shifts from confused, to concerned. “Okay, sweet girl… Is Daddy with you? …You hang tight. I’m on my way. I’m coming, don’t you worry… I’m in the Poconos so it might be a little, but Momma’s coming.”

“Barb?”

“I gotta- Taylor got into an accident. She’s okay, but she’s in the hospital,” the kindergarten teacher tells her friend quickly. She throws down her credit card. “I got lunch. Just give me my card on Monday.” She leaves the restaurant quickly.

Melissa glances at the card before throwing it in her bag. She’ll handle lunch. She finishes her meal, scrolling through her phone before texting you as she goes back up to her room to pack up her things.

Coming home early. Will explain when I get home, but just so you know. I love you.

Of course, you don’t see it.

You’ve just taken a few more rips from your dab pen, trying to stay as inebriated as possible to ride out this migraine- once it’s gone, you’ll put it away. It’s not like Melissa will be home before tomorrow anyway. She told you she would be back Sunday night, and it’s Saturday at two in the after-

“Hey hon?” Melissa’s voice floats through the front room. Your eyes are closed, so you’re fairly certain that you just miss your girlfriend so much that you’re imagining this. Your eyes stay closed.

“Y/N?” your girlfriend calls again. You still don’t respond. She only needs to catch half a glimpse at you to know something is up. You’re sprawled out on the couch, face down. You have the chip bag on the floor next to you and open- something you never do. The redhead only has to take a step into the room to see that you haven’t finished your coffee from this morning, and she knows you practically inhale any cup of caffeine you can get your hands on.

“Babe,” she says softly as she kneels down in front of you.

You’re so high. “Lissa?” you mumble, and your eyes just barely peel open. You know you’re imagining that she’s here. She’s not due to be here for another day. But you miss her so much.

“Y/N,” Melissa brushes a few rogue hairs out of your face. You giggle. Then she sees how red your eyes are. She spots your pen sticking out of your sweatpants pocket. “Are you… high?”

You shrug and attempt to sit up, only to realize that you’re on your stomach and not on your back. When you try to turn over, you nearly fall off the couch. If not for your girlfriend, you would be on the floor. You burst into laughter at that. The imaginary person just saved you from falling off the couch!

“Oh my god,” the redhead mumbles as she helps to situate you on the couch. “Honey, how high are you?”

“Really,” you drawl out. “But shh… don’t tell Lissa- she’ll come home to help, but she needs this weekend.”

Melissa shakes her head as she inspects your pen. “When was the last time you hit this?”

“Dunno,” you shake your head from side to side slowly. “Will wear off soon… gonna have to take another.”

“And why would you have to?” Your girlfriend questions.

“Helps with the migraine,” you let slip.

“You didn’t take your medication?”

“None left. Only with Mel, but… she’s away, ’n’ I don’ wanna bother her."

Melissa bites her lip. She knows she has a few pills in the car for you, but with how inebriated you are, she doesn’t know if that would be a good choice or not. “Why don’t we get you cozy in bed and we can sleep this off, yeah?”

“Bed sounds nice,” you mumble, eyes starting to close again. “Can’t feel m’legs. G’night.”

Melissa sighs a heavy sigh. She hoists your limp body into her arms and carries you up the stairs. She gently lays you in bed before crawling in behind you and spooning you. You’re asleep before she can even wrap her arms around you.

When you wake up, it’s dark. Your migraine is gone. You’re not even close to high anymore. How much time has passed? How did you get into bed? Whose arms are you- Melissa really is home. You roll over to look at the alarm clock: 7:20 pm staring back at you.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” your girlfriend whispers. “How are you feeling? Migraine gone?”

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “Why are you home though? Please tell me I didn’t text-”

“You didn’t. Taylor was in a minor car accident, and-”

“Oh god,” you gasp quietly. “Is she okay?”

“She’s just fine, but she wanted Barb, so we left early. I got home around two, and you were on the couch… high?”

You turn about as red as Melissa’s hair. “Y-yeah.”

“Babe, I didn’t know you did that stuff,” she sighs softly. She almost sounds disappointed in you.

“I- I usually don’t,” you mumble as you hide your face in her chest. You don’t want to see the look she’s giving you right now. “I haven’t since we started dating.”

“We started dating almost two years ago,” she points out.

“I know. I think I smoked once the second week we were seeing each other, but since then… I haven’t.”

“Why don’t we get some food into your stomach so your migraine doesn’t come back and a headache doesn’t start, and we can talk?” Melissa suggests. “I want to know more.”

“But while we cook, you tell me about your trip,” you try to barter. You don’t want her to just be grilling you for the entire night.

“While I cook, but sure,” she laughs softly as she rolls you off of her and sits up. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

She tells you about her car drive up and how she wished that you were with her to keep her company. She tells you about the crazy traffic she had to sit in because there was an accident by the one tunnel, and how happy she was to have finally gotten to the resort that they were to meet at. She tells you about how beautiful the rooms they had gotten were, and how Barb’s husband let them use his points, and her cousin Gino was able to hook her up with some of the perks and a free mini bar. She talks to you about how the pool had a fountain and that it was so nice to be away from the screaming children and just talk with Barb. And then she’s plating the food and sliding the plate down to where you’re sitting at the island.

“So, are we gonna talk about this?” she asks as she sits too.

You almost feel like a student again when they’re being reprimanded for talking in class. You nod, cheeks tinting red again. “What do you want to know?”

“Why didn’t you have any of your pills, and why didn’t you call me?”

“I had a migraine last night and took the last pill last night,” you mumble through a mouthful of pasta.

“And why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I knew you’d come running home, and you deserved to have this weekend away- especially after this week with your kids.”

“So you got high instead?” You nod. “Where did you even get this? Is it safe?”

You don’t want to rat yourself out, so you just nod.

“Where did you get it from?”

You purse your lips. “Can we not?”

“Why not? What’s in it? Just weed, right?” you nod. “So then what’s the big deal.”

“I used to be a stoner,” you mutter. “Like, a big fucking stoner.”

“Okay?”

“Like, I used to come home from my old school and just stay high until the I fell asleep because it helped with the pain and anxiety from that place.”

“You worked at a place worse than Abbott?”

“I told you when I showed up that Abbott was a walk in the park for me, and I meant it,” you tell your girlfriend seriously.

“So where’d you get it?"

“It’s all medicinal,” you promise her. “I just don’t like the smell of it all, and I have weird reactions to edibles, so… dab pens were the next choice.”

“If this helps your migraines, why haven’t you smoked around me before?”

“Because I have the medication… Because we’re teachers… it’s unprofessional,” you tell her. Then you mumble, “Because I didn’t want to lose you because of some stupid habit, so I quit. Just like I quit cigs when I started at Abbott and saw you.”

“You used to smoke cigs?”

“Oh god, yeah,” you chuckle. “But I found a new addiction… you.”

Your girlfriend rolls those striking green eyes of her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It’s true,” you shrug. “So… are you mad?”

Melissa sighs. “I wish you would’ve called me so I could’ve come and helped you through that,” she admits. “But I’m not mad about the pen. I used to smoke too, and don’t act like that shocks you.”

Relief washes over you. She isn’t mad.

“So… you got high off of a pen that you haven’t used in almost two years?” your girlfriend asks.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “But I’m not worried. My friend Darcy put her cart in there like a month ago when we went out for dinner and forgot to take it out. She told me to just hold onto it until the next time.”

“You had your pen on you?”

“She was actually going to buy it off of me but decided against it. I guess it’s a good thing I had it this weekend,” you laugh. “I kinda missed that feeling.”

“I mean… if you wanted to,” she laughs. “We have nowhere to be tomorrow?”

“It’s okay,” you promise her. “I don’t want to be ridiculously high if you’re going to be sober and have to deal with me.”

“What if I said I want to try it with you?” the redhead suggests with a smirk. “It’s been… oh twenty years.”

“Really?” you can’t help but giggle.

And that’s how you find yourself and your girlfriend up in bed an hour later, getting ready to get high again. You have a bag of chips, a sleeve of cookies, a couple bottles of water, and a bucket in case Melissa greens out.

“You’re sure?” you give her one more chance to back out.

“I’ve been high before.”

“This shit is real strong.”

“How strong?”

“Like… I would take one small hit and see how it affects you in thirty minutes before you think about another.”

“Okay,” your girlfriend laughs. She brings the pen up to her mouth and inhales. You hit it twice after her.

“Hey!”

“Mel, I know my limit. We don’t know yours yet.”

“Well, I want it to be fair,” she tells you as she plucks the pen out of your hand and draws another hit.

When you wake up the next morning to a flood of texts from Janine asking why you left her a seven minute voicemail about dinosaur chicken nuggets, and Melissa has a message from Ava saying that she appreciated the call out from work for today but unfortunately you don’t work on Sundays, the two of you snort with laughter until you’re red in the face and she has tears streaming down her cheeks.

“We should get high together again,” you laugh as you sit up.

“I know,” she smiles as she continues to lay there. “That was fun.”

“I’ll buy a cart for us tomorrow on the way home from work,” you tell her.

“Don’t. I know a guy,” she shrugs as she throws the blankets off of her.

“Mel, I don’t want street weed. I’m not trying to die,” you roll your eyes.

“Who said anything about street weed? I know some guys in the field who won’t charge me a thing… as long as I make ‘em some raviolis.”

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Man-Sized

9/9 Peace in a Lifetime of War

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's make this work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just come back to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A look of I win.

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

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

He allowed her to slap him. Again.

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

It was his fault, not hers.

It was his fault. It was.

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

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

"That's quite enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even… intimidated.

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

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

The tears kept flowing, the world kept quaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's because you are."

A sigh. "Right."

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

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

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

"Comes with the job."

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

"Me too."

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

"Guilty as charged."

"Why are you here, Simon?"

There was a pause, one, two breaths…

"Can't fuckin' live without you."

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

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

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

Scraps…

You never call.

Jesus Christ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sarah. Do ya even like me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

All in.

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

Just say it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This would have to change.

Past torture or not, it would change now.

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

"Hm?"

"Can I be on top?"

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

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

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

"You givin' me a history lesson too?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What's this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit…

More edgy, dark humour — but her insides shuddered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ya need help with that?"

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

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

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

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

"Not with you, sweetheart."

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

"Did ya have others while I was away?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Can't complain."

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sarah– Fuckin’ hell…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, had she been stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

Yes. Yes, please.

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

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

"The hell it is."

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

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

"Would like to fuck that too someday."

Oh my God..-

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would ya like that?"

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

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

"I'll live."

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck…"

"Will do."

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

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

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

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

Yeah, he definitely did.

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

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

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

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

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

"Promise I got ya."

This wasn't affection anymore; it was bonding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There.. Finally shut you up."

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

"Yeah."

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. I'm here."

"'Atta girl."

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

"You hit hard for a historian."

Oh God.

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

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

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

"You're ruthless."

"Do you need ice?"

"A kiss'll do."

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

"You deserved it."

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

"You deserve the best."

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

"I try to be."

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

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

"Then don't leave me."

"Never."

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

"Is that a promise?"

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

"It's a vow."

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

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babygirl-riley · 4 months

Text

Lights

Simon used to love Christmas that led to hate that led to love once more.

A/N: Merry Christmas you guys!!! ❤️💚Here is the angsty family fluff you all love 🖤 And I KNOW i’m on a Sleeping At Last kick BUT some of things just match alright? 😭

“Takes violent things, angry things…and makes them kind.”

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood trauma, violance, blood, fluff, dad!simon, soft!simon, husband!simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family

“Ya ever think we will have a normal Christmas Tommy?” Simon whispered as Simon gathered the make shift tiny ornaments and tiny lights.

Tommy pulled a small tree that he stole from the closets market. Simon saw that all the other kids were having these lights and decorations in their homes. They talked about it all at school. However, their house didn’t. So when Simon told Tommy about it, of course Tommy told Simon to secretly make things. So when Santa sees that they made them they would get presents.

In the Riley home Christmas was never a thing while dad was around. Only one year that it happened and only year that it happened. Never was it jolly or good. Dad would drink and drink while Simon and Tommy would open presents while be yelled at saying; “You don’t deserve ‘em.” “Ya both been naughty.” “Remember who truly bought ‘em toys.”

It wasn’t until now that Simon liked Christmas. Tommy would make sure that there would be something related to it. Always in secret. “One day but this is our little fun Christmas. They other kids don’t make theirs.”

Simon shot his eyes up at his brother. “Really?”

“Yep,” He placed the tree in the middle of them in the small closet. They both wrapped the tiny thing wire with the lights on around the tree. “They might have bigger things but this is way better Si.”

Both of them took turns on the little paper or plastic ornaments. Laughing at some that Simon drew or what Tommy bunched up. “Ready?” Tommy whispered, Simon nodded waiting oh so patiently. Tommy plugged the small lights in and a tiny white glow came from the tree.

Simon started at the lights, always he loved how they would glow. “Wow.” He whispered and looked at Tommy.

Tommy smiled as he watched Simon hand over a small present to Joseph. With their dad gone they were able to be open with Christmas. Their mom mentioning that it was time to have a good Christmas. Joseph gasped in excitement to have the new train set that he wanted.

Tommy looked at Simon who shrugged as the little kid ran to hug him. The night was smooth and nice as they all gathered around to eat dinner. “Uncle Simon what’s your favorite thing about Christmas?” Joseph asked smiling has he stuffed his face with a roll.

Simon smiled and looked over at the tree lights. “The lights, all of ‘em.”

“Lights,” Joseph asked looking at the tree “Why?”

Simon looked at Tommy and smiled. “They’r pretty is all, huh Tommy?”

Tommy laughed as he shook his head. “Always brother.”

Simon’s heart raced not in excitement for the holiday as in fear. He remembered what the bastard said about his family and he had to get to them before it was too late. His car parked in front of the home with the red and green lights on the roof. Snow on the ground. The chill running down his spine with the cool air hitting him.

He shoved the door open, seeing the lights around the house. Some decorations scattered. Something was wrong, house lights were off and things were a miss. Simon shakily sighed as he walked into the horror.

Simon knelt beside his family, the blood staining his jeans. The door left open as the snowy breeze passes through. It was darkness besides the lights the illuminated the room. Showed the bloody scene of his family.

Simon couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, he looked at the lights and glared. He had to disappear, burned everything to the ground including the lights that he loved so dear. Leaving it all behind.

You knew Simon hated Christmas so you would make sure to have a good evening with nothing around related to it. Even though Simon would tell you it was fine to have decorations and everything. Your agreed to have one thing in the house related to Christmas and it was lights.

One light wrapping the room against the wall. That was it. Simon would avoid it as much as he could. He hated lights. He hated Christmas. Anytime he saw them he saw Tommy. A haunted memory for him to live over and over again. He never told you until 2 years into the relationship of why he hated Christmas.

Your heart broke as you held him and cried. Not for yourself no for the fact that someone would do that to him to the people he loved. “I wan’ to try to but…” Simon stopped looking away, he never was good with complicated emotions. He didn’t want you to stop your traditions with your family.

“It never ruined my Christmas spirit. Always celebrated somewhere else. And that’s okay.” You whispered grabbing his hand.

Simon frowned and looked away. “Neat year I’ll go to your family’s party yeah?”

You nodded as you picked his hand up to kiss his knuckles. The year went by and he kept his promise. While driving there you noticed the way his hand was shaking on your leg. Tapping your thigh. “We can turn around. Say I have the runs.” You joked gently grabbing his hand.

Simon chuckled. “No darling, I promised.”

It was a bit overwhelming for him at first. Your parents hugging him and seeing all the decorations almost put him on a spiral. Until your niece ran up. “Ya here! Uncle Simon will you help me with the gingerbread contest!”

It not only took you by surprise but him. He nodded as he looked back at you with the little girl guiding him to the table. That year their house was the best. Simon made sure that this house would be the only cool one than all the other ones. He took it personally to help your niece.

After that he came every year, slowly you saw happiness form around him. He would help bring a tree into your home. Decorate with you. Piece by piece you saw the man that hated Christmas learn to love it. Even when you became pregnant he made sure that the house would have Christmas.

Your children loved Christmas have the tradition of making small Christmas trees having them in their own rooms. Help decorate the big one in the house. One night Simon and you finally were able to go to bed after setting up that Santa came. He heard a small noise that shot him up.

Thinking it was someone in the home that wasn’t suppose to be there. He stumbled with his three girls. Millie looked as gasped as she sat in front of the tree, followed by Allison, who had Tessa in her arms. “Tessa, you have to be quiet.” Allison whispered as she cooed little loud.

“Dad wakes up he might think we are stealing,” Millie giggled and Millie too as they looked up at the tree. “Should we take our stockings?”

“That would be stealing,” the girls gasped as they turned to see Simon. They all looked at each other but Tessa who was signaling to be picked up. “What are ya all doin’ up?”

“Just seeing if we can catch Santa.” Millie commented looking over at the cookies.

Millie knew of Santa but promised she would play along until the other two knew about him. Simon and you appreciated it as it was important to you two. “I see, did he?”

As Simon picked Tessa up, Allison popped up and grabbed the plate of cookies. “Yes daddy look!”

Simon smiled and looked around. “Ya think he still here?”

Millie chuckled and looked down at Allison. “No he took the bite out of the cookie.” She said placing it back on the small table. “Can we see what we got?”

“Well that would have to wait until tomorrow pretty sure mum wants to see too.” Simon said lowering his hand to Allison.

“Wait, I want to look at the lights longer.” Millie said going to sit back down.

Simon nodded and Millie followed as they both sat down. The girls and Simon sat in front of the tree looking at the lights in the tree. “Daddy lights are my favorite, I really liked the color ones that we went to last time.”

“Same especially the white lights that were shaped as a deer.” Millie comment looking at Simon.

Simon looked at both of them and back at the tree. “The deer was my favorite too, even all the colors that were around.”

“Ohhh like the rainbow bridge!” Millie giggled.

Simon nodded and laughed a bit holding Tessa tighter. “Yeah the rainbow bridge.”

They sat there for a few more minutes before Simon looked at Allison who was falling asleep on his shoulder. He looked at Millie. “Will you carry Tess and I can grab Alls.”

Millie nodded as she gently grabbed the baby. Simon grabbed Allison and carried her bridal style holding her head close to his chest. Millie went to Tessa’s room and Simon went into Allison’s. Before they both went into their rooms Millie turned to him.

“Thank you dad for Christmas.” Millie said smiling at him.

Simon could feel his heart swell with so much love and pride. Simon used to be afraid of Christmas to love to hate to now love again. All because of this family. His family. Simon was so happy that he was able to give the girls a proper Christmas, that was filled with joy. It could still be something to mourn but he always now has something to be comforted with.

Simon smiled as placed a kiss on her head. “Ya welcome princess.”

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tellmealovestory · 6 months

Text

Cozy

Summary: Eddie discovers the softer things in life.

Warnings: None. Pure softness and fluff!

Spooktober Masterlist

Before you Eddie didn’t know the meaning of softness or comfort. He was used to threadbare sheets and thin quilts with holes in them that did little to keep the chill out when the temperatures dipped. Pillows that were so old they were lumpier than oatmeal. But they were his and for the time before you came into his life they were good enough.

After you though, well after you Eddie knew the meaning of comfort and softness and home.

It had started slowly, you moving in a few of your things. A toothbrush here. A favorite sweater or book left lying around there. Your preferred canisters of coffee and baked cookies.

It was slow and subtle enough that not even Wayne noticed or had a thing to say.

That all changed when Eddie came home after work one day. Limbs tired from exhaustion. Bleary eyed and eager to sink into the well worn couch and light up a joint. As soon as he opened the screen door he knew something was off. He inhaled deeply and as he stepped foot into the trailer it smelled like what he imagined a functional family holiday would be.

The spice of pumpkin pie straight out of the oven. Tart cranberries. Rich cinnamon. Sweet vanilla.

Candles flickered across the surface of the narrow kitchen counter and on the rickety table that sat in front of the ancient couch which was surely older than him.

But it wasn’t just the rich and welcome candles he saw burning and smelled it was what was on the furniture that made him pause in the doorway.

Deep orange and burgundy blankets lay draped across the couch and Wayne’s recliner. And when he didn’t see you at first he walked the short distance to his bedroom to catch you laying a navy blue blanket across the end of his bed, a candle also flickering in here that smelled of marshmallows, a little burnt just how he liked them on a bonfire.

You didn’t notice him at first. Humming, you smoothed your hands over the blanket fixing any wrinkles that appeared and as Eddie stood in the doorway watching you he could feel himself falling for you even harder and the softness that you brought to his rough edged life.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, a small smile creeping on his face when you finally glanced up from your project and went over to greet him. A soft kiss on his stubbled cheek and he noted how you smelled like the candles; comforting and warm and his.

Later, after dinner’s been had and conversation has been exhausted, teeth brushed and fresh pajamas put on, snuggled beneath that thin threadbare quilt and covered with the lush velvet blanket, you curled into his awaiting arms half asleep you mumbled, “Is it too much? The blankets and the candles and the food?”

“No,” he said quickly, because it’s not. It’s perfect. It’s all perfect. You’re perfect. He wants to tell you those exact words, but sleep has already called and pulled you under and he knows this, making things nice and soft, showing him that he deserves kindness and love is your own way of telling him that you care about him.

There’s another day for those words. Right now he just enjoys the softness and you in his arms.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #my writing

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runningfrom2am · 6 months

Note

Reader’s childhood friend gets dumped by Rafe, and then when the reader moves to town, they get back at Rafe, by breaking his heart.

thank you for this request ahhh i'm obsessed! (I've never seen john tucker must die but i hope this is along the right lines of what we were after lol.) i feel so bad ab hurting him :'(

anyway happy halloween guys!! i hope everyone has so much fun :))

rafe cameron must die - r.c.

pairing: rafe x fem!reader

wc: 3k

tags/warnings: toxic af reader, cheating, manipulation, swearing, read at your own discretion (but nothing else really that deep).

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav/masterlists

After your best friend showed up on your doorstep in New York with tears in her eyes and her favourite pillow under her arm, you knew you had to do something.

She had lived in New York most of her life, having only left you a few years before to move down to the Outer Banks with her family. You missed her dearly, but you hardly went a day without talking or a holiday without her coming home- that is, until she starting dating Rafe Cameron.

Over the last year your friend had fallen off your radar, not for a lack of you trying. But with her crying with her head in your lap, she confessed that she never meant to hurt you, but it was Rafe who had insisted that she didn't need her connections back home, and would roll his eyes when she mentioned anyone he didn't know personally. This got to the point where she just stopped, and made the mistake of listening to him when he drilled into her that you didn't even care if you couldn't be bothered to come visit. Luckily for you, while manipulative and abusive, Rafe also was careless- and your best friend told you he never even bothered to remember your name.

You dried her tears after days, shedding a fair few yourself upon hearing about how your friend's ex had treated her and how he broke up with her over text after no-call, no-showing their one-year anniversary date. You couldn't take it. You had to fix this somehow.

You had always been one for silent, secret revenge. Like spreading rumours about people who had done you wrong and never laying claim to the story, homie-hopping the friend group of a boy who refused to give you the respect of labeling your relationship, or even taking the liberty of sleeping with all of another girls ex-boyfriend's if she had given you one too many dirty looks. They didn't have to know about it in order for you to maintain your confidence- you knew what you did, and that was enough. This time, though, it wasn't you they had hurt. It was your best friend, the purest, kindest of souls who couldn't hurt a fly if you handed her the swatter and somehow held it still.

Rafe Cameron had to know the mistake he made by treating the wrong girl the wrong way, and you would make sure that he would. As you got off the ferry in Kildare with a suitcase in your hand, your mind was already reeling with every last thing you could do to him to make him feel what your best friend did- to hurt him the way he deserved. Rafe Cameron must die.

After scrubbing your social media's of any evidence of each other, your friend gave you the name of the country club he frequented. You had been quick to apply for every job they had open, and you landed one as a cart girl- it was perfect. You couldn't be more pleased with the position, you got to drive around on a drink cart in whatever short skirt you pleased, serving drinks and snacks to rich men who tipped generously and to most importantly, Rafe Cameron.

He had been intrigued from the first time he laid eyes on you. You were pretty, and seemingly so nice, and better yet; you were new in town. To him, you didn't know anything of him and his reputation, his drug habit, or his family name. He didn't know that you knew it all.

"Good morning Mr. Cameron." You smile, pulling up next to his tee-off point and quickly but casually stepping out of the cart. "Your usual today?"

"Come on, you can call me Rafe. My dad is 'Mr. Cameron'." Rafe chuckles, shaking his head at you and already digging for his wallet.

"That he is." You agree with a slight laugh, digging through your cooler to grab his favourite brand of beer and a shot. "First one is on me." You insist, holding the shot out for him as he looks up from where he was shuffling through the bills in his wallet.

"What's the occasion?" Rafe chuckles, furrowing his brow as he grabs the small glass from you.

"I don't know, it's always a good day when my favourite client is in early." You shrug, painting an innocent smile on your face.

"I'm your favourite, huh?" He smirks, accentuating the statement by taking the shot as you crack open his beer and hold it out to him to chase with.

"Of course you are." You hum, watching him as he trades the shot glass for the can in your hand.

"Well, that's funny, actually, because you're my favourite cart girl." Rafe smiles at you, and you return it, looking down and brushing your hair back out of your face.

"That's real sweet, thank you." You blush, fighting back the urge to scowl at how honestly fake he is. He's not this nice person he pretends to be- but he doesn't know that you aren't either. How long could the two of you play this game before one of you shows your cards? You're hoping that you get the chance to go first.

"You're welcome." Rafe smirks, nodding at you, reaching for his wallet again. God- he is so obnoxious you could vomit. "Here, this is a tip then if the drinks are free." He hands you a fifty, and you once again resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Oh, wow, thank you." You smile sheepishly, taking it from him and tucking the bill into your bra.

"Don't worry about it." He smiles, leaning on his club as he watches you go to get back in the cart. "Hey, Y/N?"

Bingo.

You turn and put that smile back on, humming and tilting your head at him expectantly.

"Want to grab drinks after your shift? I know this great country club with a really cool bar."

Of course he wants to take you out to the club you work at- and to think that's funny, too? What a joke.

"Yeah! I would like that." You nod with a smile.

Your first few dates went... swimmingly. Perfectly to plan, anyway. Rafe would always pay, and you would always act a little nervous. You would wear sundresses- your friend said they were his favourite, and you played into his interests. You made a strong impression that you were one to be easily manipulated, and he was falling for it. Hard.

You were walking down the beach, hand in hand, taking the time to look at the beautiful view of the ocean while the boy next to you watched you intently, as if you were the only girl in the world. Right now, to him, you were. "Hey, Y/N, so I was thinking..."

"Oh, were you?" You tease, giggling as you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I was," Rafe chuckles, gently swinging your hand. "I was thinking that maybe I'd like you to be my girlfriend, a more official thing. If you want, of course."

"Really?" You smile, chewing your bottom lip as you look up at him.

"Yeah, of course. You're really cool, and kind, and so beautiful, and I was just hoping you were feeling the same way I was." It was sweet, you can see how he roped in your friend so effortlessly.

"Aw, well, yes, I would love that, Rafe."

When you got back to your apartment that night, you were quick to text your friend and tell her he was all in. The plan was working out beautifully, and while she felt guilty, you reassured her that karma was on your side- and it would be the only justice he ever would face.

You spent the following month as Rafe's dream girl. Within three weeks of him asking you to be his girlfriend, he had told you he loved you over a shared bottle of wine on his yacht. You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy this new lifestyle he was giving you, but you were much more excited by the idea of all of this blowing up in his face. You had considered the route of revenge porn, even going so far as to save some illicit pictures of him that you asked for, but even for you, that feels too far.

Safe to say, though, it's only a matter of a few months before he's all in, and you're all in with his friends, and thankfully, his family. He didn't get on with his sister, which worked out for you considering that her boyfriend, John B, was a pogue- and your overly possessive boyfriend had a wonderfully convenient distaste for pogues.

"Sarah! How are you? I didn't expect to see you here!" You smile, walking up to her and immediately pulling her in for a hug.

"Uh, at a boneyard party?" Sarah chuckles, hugging you back and looking over your shoulder at her friends, sharing a confused look with them.

"Well, yeah. I guess you're right." You giggle, pulling away and looking around at her friends. "These must be your friends! I've heard so much about you guys."

"Uh, yeah, everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is John B, Kie, Pope, and JJ." She introduces you and you smile politely, giving them a small wave. "Y/N is Rafe's girlfriend."

"Nice to meet you." Pope says, but it sounds more like a question. It would be suspicious that Rafe's girlfriend would want anything to do with pogues.

"I just moved here a few months ago. I'm still trying to make friends and stuff." You shrug. "Really I've heard only good things about you guys."

Kie scoffs at this, bringing her cup up to her lips and shaking her head.

"What?" You giggle, furrowing your brow.

"As if Rafe would have anything nice to say about us." JJ agrees with his friend.

"Well, Rafe is... you know. Rafe."

"You could say that." John B says sarcastically and Sarah hits his shoulder.

"He's just... Actually, never mind. I shouldn't say that." You laugh it off, hoping one of them will take the bait.

They all look at each other, and a silent interaction takes place that you hope you're reading correctly. "Hey, can I grab you another drink?" JJ offers after a moment.

You nod and smile. "Yeah! Sounds good, I'm not drunk enough to be getting these shoes dirty like this. I still feel guilty about it." You laugh.

"Alright then! Tell me- have you ever done a shotgun before?"

The night progresses just as planned, with you getting sloppy drunk. Or, outwardly, sloppy drunk. You'd "accidentally" spilled over half of your drinks, gravitating closer and closer to JJ. He was cute anyways, and funny, and who were you to deny yourself the pleasure of being around someone you actually liked after months of faking it with Rafe?

You fire off a text to him, asking him to "pretty please" come pick you up from this party, and he replies within a minute promising he'd be there soon, and, the icing on the cake, that he loved you.

Now was most definitely the right time to get this whole thing over with.

"So, you were saying earlier about Rafe..." John B asks, leaning on Sarah's shoulder as she nudges him, shooting him a look that says 'don't be too obvious'.

"Oh! Well like I said, I probably shouldn't say..." You giggle, leaning into JJ's side more as he slots his arm around your waist to steady you.

"C'mon, Y/N/N, you can tell us. We won't tell a soul." JJ promises, squeezing you gently.

"Okay, well, In that case, he's kind of... weird, I guess? When we're alone he's just so clingy and whiney and kind of annoying." You slur out, giggling and covering your face. "I mean, I love him, but like, it's a lot."

You watch as their faces collectively light up, John B and JJ trying their best not to laugh. "And! And, you seriously can't tell anyone I told you this..." You cut them off, shaking your head and pretending to stumble a bit. "It's like... quite small. Honestly, I feel bad for him. The sex is so bad."

You laugh as everyone else does, already knowing you've lit the fire for a rumour to spread. Not that it was entirely true, but you figured it was a nice touch. Something for him to remember you by after you're back in New York and he's still fighting off the small dick allegations.

"That's... yeah that sucks." JJ laughs, running his hand down your back. "I have to tell you, though, no one's ever said that about me." He whispers the last part to you so no one else could hear, but you're sure they got the general idea.

You hum, taking another sip from your can as you turn in his arm. "Come with me to grab another drink?" You whisper back and he nods.

"Guys! We'll be back, just going to grab another drink." JJ explains, already leading you off.

"Don't tell anyone what I said about Rafe!" You laugh, pointing at them as you walk away, sure to be loud enough to draw looks from other kids scattered around.

"Come on, this way." You grab his hand and lead him away from where you stashed your drinks, up toward the road.

"Don't you want your drink?" JJ asks, confused as you turn to face him, shaking your can to demonstrate that it's still almost entirely full.

JJ chuckles, shaking his head. "What about your boyfriend?"

"What about him?" You say, stopping next to a tree, chewing on your lip as you look up at the boy in front of you.

"Nothing." JJ says quietly, shaking his head as you lean in, catching headlights approaching in your peripheral vision.

You pull JJ closer to you, his lips pressed to yours and you tangle your fingers in his hair as the lights get closer, brighter.

Rafe makes his way down the road, repeatedly trying to call you. No answer after your text, but he just sums it up to you being too drunk to make out what's on the screen. He loves it when you're drunk, you're giggly, and fun, and more relaxed than normal. It's not a side of you he sees often.

Rafe is beginning to think you're changing him, for the better. He's never loved someone so much, he fell fast and hard for a girl who was perfect for him. Soulmate was a word he swore he never believed in, that was until he got to know you.

When he caught a look at you in his headlights, making out with JJ fucking Maybank, he could swear his heart stopped. Typically he'd be angry- he's not a stranger to being cheated on, or doing the cheating, but with you, it was so different. He was more mature now. Apparently, maturity meant heartbreak.

"Y/N? Is that you?" Rafe calls out, getting out of the truck as JJ disappears back down to the beach. He already knew the answer.

"Rafe! Uh, hi!" You giggle nervously, deciding to play this out a little longer as he walks up to you.

"Who were you with?" He asks, stopping a few feet away as his voice cracks.

"Oh! Uhm, just a friend." You answer, keeping your distance.

"Oh, okay. Well, let's go, then. I'll get you home." He mumbles, a tear falling which he quickly wipes away as he turns to head back to the truck. Hopefully, the few seconds he isn't facing you are enough to compose himself.

"What, that's it?" You scoff, crossing your arms. The sudden sobriety in your voice caught him off-guard. "I really expected more from you, Rafe Cameron."

He turns, brow furrowed as he looks you over. Sober as ever, he's sure of it. "What?"

"What?" You mock him, rolling your eyes. "I'm disappointed. Honestly. Not even a screaming match?"

Rafe pauses for a moment, shaking his head slightly as if it would help him interpret the situation. "Y/N, I'm not going to fight with you. I'm going to pretend I didn't see what I'm pretty sure I just saw, and we're going to move on. Okay?"

"I'd rather not, actually." You reply, feet planted firmly where you stood. "Are you crying?" You ask, leaning in a little and squinting in the headlights to see better. "Oh, my, god. You are crying!"

"What are you laughing at? You cheated on me!" He defends, wiping his eyes rapidly as his voice shakes.

"Aw." You laugh, clutching your drink to your chest with a fake pout. "It really worked, didn't it?"

Rafe looks down at the ground now, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Tell me, how does it feel?" You ask. "I'd like to pass it on to a friend. I mean, she already knows, because you cheated on her. Then blamed her, and then hit her when she pointed the finger back at you. Oh, and that was after you ghosted her and broke up with her with a snapchat."

He just shakes his head again, chewing now on the side of his nail as tears continue to fall.

"Nothing? Not even a word?" You ask, waving your hand in his direction to grab his attention.

"I love you." He mutters, a weak attempt at regaining your favour.

This only succeeds in making you laugh. "So I win!" You drop your can so you can give yourself a round of applause.

"Rafe Cameron, I have never met someone as fake, and sick, and as cruel as you are." You recite, stepping closer with every word. "You are going to die alone. And you'll deserve it."

"You will too." Rafe counters, taking a deep breath. "You are just as cruel and sick as I am." He spits, regaining enough confidence to be angry. "What kind of person takes months out of their life to move to a new city just to fuck up someone else's life?"

"You don't even know the extent of what I did yet." You whisper, face to face with him now. "Go ahead. Hit me. I won't press charges. I won't need to."

His fists are clenched at his sides, jaw shut so tight his temples are starting to ache as angry tears continue to fall.

"You can't, can you?" You continue, taking a step back now, smiling and shaking your head. "You're pathetic, Rafe Cameron!" You call, turning and walking back down the path.

He watches you walk away, heartbroken as he huffs with anger. That's what he gets for changing. That's what he gets for trusting you.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo, @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta, @rafegirly, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn, @whtvrrafe, @r1vrsefx

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #outer banks #obx fanfic #rafe fic #obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #obx fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you #obx fic #obx x reader #outer banks fanfiction

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writerblue275 · 4 months

Text

What to get each Heartsteel member for the holidays

Aphelios: 1. Stuff to decorate his studio with. 2. Moon-themed things. 3. Why do I feel like he’s similar to me and collects SOMETHING. For me it’s owl things (I fucking love owls.) and cool enamel pins! I could see Phel collecting really cool enamel pins or some sort of trinket. 4. To go with #3. A place to put said trinkets (for example a cork board/pin banner to hang pins on). [I should take a photo of my cork board that has all my pins and stuff on it so you can see what I mean!]

Ezreal: 1. Book discussing an ancient civilization he’s been interested in. 2. A book going over works of an artist/artistic period/movement he really likes. (I did that for my dad this year about an artist he likes and he almost started crying he was so excited. It was so fucking cute. I’ve been waiting to give him that book since JULY. 🥹)

Kayn: 1. Accessories for a guitar (like a custom embroidered guitar strap or picks). 2. I feel like he’d primarily play electric, but I definitely think he’d play/have an acoustic guitar. You can find some really cool wood-burned acoustic guitars for (relatively) cheap. (A good instrument is expensive (I know this from playing viola) but compared to electric guitars, acoustics are definitely more affordable.) 3. I have a fun embroidery hoop hanging on my wall and it’s all fancy and shit and it says “DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO” and I think something like that fits Kayn so perfectly. (I need to take a photo and post it for y’all. It’s one of my favorite things lmao.)

K’Sante: 1. A really fancy set of colored pencils and a really nice sketch pad that he can use for sketching out his designs. 2. A new sewing machine/sewing kit. 3. FABRIC. Get this man nice fabric so he can bring his designs to life! Especially if he’s shown you a design he really loves, or that you really love, get fabric for that specific design.

Sett: 1. Brand new fancy sewing kit he’s been talking about. (I absolutely love that he’s canonically a sewing expert. I fucking love it so much). 2. If not a full kit then a really nice seam ripper or specific tool he maybe needs an upgrade on. Could be customized to him. I think he’d love that! 3. Really nice set of pots/pans/kitchen utensils. (I’m thinking like the hex clad pans I keep hearing about.)

Sett Extra: You better get something for his mama!!! As someone who has a mother who is a knitting machine, I know exactly what to get. 1. Some really really lovely and fancy yarn. 2. Knitting pattern books that she doesn’t have. 3. A yarn bowl (it’s literally a bowl that the yarn sits in, and there’s a little hole or design that allows the end to come out so you don’t have to keep unwinding the yarn or anything. And it’s easy to keep your space neat while knitting. My mother LOVES HERS. My dad accidentally broke her first one and she was devastated! [A new/nicer one was her Christmas present from my dad last year.])

Yone: 1. Some god damn peace and quiet and sleep. This man needs a break lmao. 2. But actually, stuff to decorate his studio with (for example a funny little do not disturb sign that he can put on the door, some posters or something. 3. Maybe some small framed photos of the two of you that he can put on his desk. You’re his muse after all (and you help him not go insane during late nights.)

EXTRA-

Alune: She deserves some gifts toooooooo!! 1. This woman deserves a damn spa day. Do I even have to explain myself? Like she deserves some serious pampering. 2. Another one who I could see collecting something fun. Probably moon related lol.

#writerblue275 gremlin hours #heartsteel #heartsteel x reader #headcanon #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel k'sante #heartsteel sett #heartsteel yone #heartsteel alune #league of legends #heartsteel fluff #happy holidays

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xcaptain-winterx · 4 months

Text

Gingerbread cookies

football player!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: Your helpful football player decorates the gingerbread cookies for you while you sleep. Only problem is that your boyfriend has a better idea.

warnings: fluff, Bucky being a good boyfriend, Bucky being a horny boyfriend, cum, nsfw 18+, Alpine, pussy eating

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.. This is a fic for “Vee's holly jolly challenge” @sstan-hoe with the prompt “Before we go out…pull up that skirt real quick, baby”. Hope you like it and I hope you all have a great Christmas❤️🎄

Main Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky is walking out of the changing room, pulling his jacket tighter around him as the cold wind slaps him. He was supposed to have football practice until 5pm, but the sudden change of weather made them end earlier today. This decision was good because 10 minutes later the wind got brutal. Bucky makes his way back to his apartment, wanting to be back in the warmth as soon as possible. His phone starts to ring midway through his walk back home and he struggles for a second to get his phone out before finally managing to pull his phone out of the deeps of his pocket. A smile spreads out on his face as he sees that you are calling him.

“Hey, doll” Bucky says happily.

“Hey, baby” you say, sounding equally as happy. “I already assumed practice was going to end earlier today. How was it?”.

“It was good. I beat Steve today” he says proudly, remembering how defeated Steve looked as his best friend threw him across the field.

“Wow, that’s amazing, baby! Guess you deserve something special then, huh?”. Bucky bites his lap as he thinks about what you gave him last time you were proud of him, or more like what you did.

“I will be home in two minutes” Bucky says, speed walking down the streets and taking a shortcut. Just as Bucky is about to bring up a wish, including you in only his jersey, a noise in the background gathers his attention.

“What is that, doll?”.

“So” you begin “I actually called you because I wanted to ask you if you could make a quick stop at the supermarket and get some frosting”.

“Sure” Bucky immediately says and walks back in the other direction. “For what?”.

“Today is Yelena’s birthday and I want to make gingerbread cookies, but I ran out of frosting halfway. I still need to decorate twenty more cookies”. Bucky remembers the party. How couldn’t he? The whole football team is going and many more. Yelena and you know each other since you were about five and went together to the same schools. Meanwhile her sister Natasha was in Russia for some years.

“I thought we had enough frosting” Bucky says, remembering how went grocery shopping last week and even got more frosting than necessary.

“I thought so too, but we used quite a lot of frosting last night as we drunkenly built our gingerbread house” you say, while putting the last dozen of cookies in the oven.

Your parents came by yesterday morning before flying to England for the holidays and gifted you two some wine as an early Christmas present. Of course you two had to taste it, so you put on some nice music while Bucky lit the fireplace and then cuddled up to on the couch and opened the bottle. In no time the bottle was empty and you two dancing to Christmas music before Bucky had the brilliant idea to build a gingerbread house together, remembering you two bought a set. After some failed attempts to put it together, you two finally managed to do it and were able to decorate it. At that point, you still had enough frosting, but you wanted to do more decorations, so you took some of the frosting what was meant for the cookies.

In the end, you didn’t even use the frosting for decorating. Well, not for decorating a gingerbread house. Bucky thought it would be fun to decorate your body on the table and slowly lick the sweet scream off your body.

But the gingerbread house still looks good.

Bucky smiles back at the memory, remembering how much you two had and not only in the dirty kind.

“And now you want your lovely boyfriend to bring you some more frosting? Don’t you think you already have enough cookies?”

“Well, my lovely boyfriend, I think you can never have enough cookies and I may even spare you some if you get me some frosting” you say sweetly, secretly knowing you already got him wrapped around your fingers.

Bucky acts like he’s thinking for a second before replying. “Ok, but I want you to decorate MY cookies, especially for me. I want to take them with me to practice and rub under the boy’s noses that my girlfriend makes me cookies with personal messages”.

“You just want one that says ‘best dick’ or ‘careful big thing in pants alert’” you say laughing, imagining how he will show those cookies to Steve and Sam.

“You know me so good, doll” he says, smiling into his phone. “Alright, I will get you something, so you can finish decorating your cookies”.

“I love you, baby. Thank you so much. I will make you some hot chocolate, so you have something warm when you come home”.

“You are too good to me, doll. I love you” he says before saying goodbye. A wide grin appears on his face, while hanging up and putting his phone away. Instead of continuing his way to the supermarket, he turns around again and walks to their apartment.

Bucky wipes his snowy shoes on the doormat. He was almost home as it started snowing hard. Good, that the birthday party is inside.

He unlocks the door, and immediately a wave of warmness and the smell of fresh gingerbread hits him. He steps inside and is immediately greeted by your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Bucky kisses you back, dropping his bag to lift you up, but before he can, you pull away from him.

“I’m so happy to see you, baby. Did you bring the frosting? The cookies are almost done” you run back to the kitchen, leaving him at the door. A soft white fur ball comes out of the bedroom upon hearing the front door open.

“Hey, Alpine” Bucky says as his little baby purrs against his legs, “I missed you too, girl”. He picks her up after removing his shoes, jacket and letting his bag drop on the small bench in the entryway. In the kitchen, he sees how productive you have been. On the counter are two batches with finished cookies, two with unfinished ones, and another batch is in the oven.

“Doll, how about you rest a bit and then get ready for the party while I finish the cookies? You need some rest” he walks closer, seeing how tired you are.

“But the cookies-“.

“I will get them out when they are done and put the frosting on them” Bucky says, giving you Alpine, who happily snuggles closer into the arms of her favorite human.

“James, you don’t have to do that. You just came home from practice and I already made you get the frosting. You don’t need to do more” you say as he leads you to your bedroom. Alpine jumps out of your arms as Bucky pulls back the blanket for you to lie down. She stretches before getting comfortable again in the warm bed she slept in before Bucky arrived. Alpine meows, waiting for you to join her.

Bucky picks you up bridal style, making you laugh. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I made the love of my life overwork herself while I’m still full of energy” he says, laying you down on the bed and pulling the blanket tightly over you. Bucky chuckles as Alpine pops her head out from under the blanket.

“I love you, you know” you say and snuggle more into the warmth of the blanket.

“I know” Bucky grins before giving you a kiss, while murmuring a soft good night against your lips. He closes the door after walking out.

Once outside, he fist bumps the air. He can finally start with his plan. Bucky waits till the cookies are out of the oven before getting a big bowl and walking with it to the bathroom. A big grin is on his face as he closes the door.

“Merry fucking Christmas, doll”.

After you wake up and cuddled Alpine for another five minutes because your little baby wouldn’t stop complaining, you start to get ready for the party. Fixing your makeup in the mirror, you spot Alpine scratching the closed door. With a sigh, you walk over to her.

“No no no, baby. No, scratching the door!” you say and open the door, making her dash out and into the kitchen. You walk out after her, spotting your boyfriend leaning on the counter. Bucky lets out a hey as Alpine scratches his sweatpants and pushes her away with his foot.

When he turns his head around, he sees you standing there in a red dress. “Well, hello there, doll. Don’t you look pretty” he says, not moving from his spot, but giving you flirty smirk. You blush at his comment and walk over to him, noticing all the cookies decorated, though it’s a bit messy, and the frosting looks a bit too thin.

“Thank you for decorating them” you kiss his cheek “They look amazing”. It’s not a lie. You think they are pretty, even if they aren’t decorated the best.

Bucky smiles before he reaches for a cookie and holds it up to you, grinning. “Want a taste?”.

You nod and open your mouth for Bucky to put it in your mouth. You then take a big bite out of the cookie, not seeing how Bucky bites his lip.

The cookie doesn’t taste like you thought it would. Instead of being fully sweet, it’s more salty. At first, you think you added salt instead of sugar before you realize that it’s not the cookie that is salty. It doesn’t take a second for you to know what it is. You look at Bucky, seeing him with a seductive grin.

“You put your cum on the cookies!” you say with big eyes, staring at him with a shocked expression.

Bucky nods, looking so proud. He spent a long time in the bathroom until the bowl was full of his hot cum.

“Why?!” you ask, not believing that your boyfriend really did that. “They are for the party, baby!”

“And there are still enough. You baked so many before I even got here that had frosting on them” he replies and pulls you closer with his arm. “You said I can have some-“.

“But not so many!”

“There are still enough, doll” he kisses your cheek. “I made these extra for you”.

“Bucky, I can’t eat cum covered cookies, even if it’s yours” you say to which he only chuckles.

“You still ate this one though” he bites your neck “I know you like it”. At that, you blush and you two know he’s right. Bucky covers your neck in kisses.

“You are insane, Mr Barnes” you chuckle as Bucky purposely tickles you with his long stubbles.

“Insane in love with you” he looks in your eyes. “You know, I passed out three times for this shit. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me fall”.

You stare at him. “You passed out”.

“As I said, I’m insane in love with you”

“Aren’t you exhausted?” you ask, only now getting why he has to lean against the counter.

“A bit, but you know what I’m still able to do?”

“What?” you ask him as he lets go of you.

“Before we go out…pull up that skirt real quick, baby” he says. You bite your lip as you pull the front of your dress up. A soft moan leaves your lips as Bucky steps closer and runs his finger over your soaked panties.

“All this for me?”

“Yeah” you say with a shaky voice, watching as Bucky drops to his knees and moves your panties aside.

“Oh, doll, you are completely drenched. You really seem to like those cookies” Bucky says in a cocky voice. Before you can say something, he gives your pussy a lick, making you shut up. He picks you up effortlessly and sits you down on the free counter. Before he dives his face back to your pussy, he chases after Alpine and locks her in the bedroom, receiving some scratches while doing that, whispering under his breath how he is going to cut her nails.

Once back, he lays you down and removes your panties, stuffing them in his pockets and ignoring your hey.

“For later, doll” he says before lifting your legs on his shoulders. Bucky kisses down your leg until he finally reaches your pussy. He can see your slick and can feel himself get hard again. He perhaps passed out three times, but he will always be able to get hard for you.

“It’s only fair that I make you pass out now too” he says before finally starting to eat you out.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic rec #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #xcaptain winterx #vee's holly jolly challenge

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thetopichot · 4 months

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•°♡ Comfort Prompts VII ♡°•

Been awhile since I did one of these. I was so busy writing headcanons for the Yuurivoice fandom, but I would forget you guys who get tired of me ranting about some hot goth ceo. Consider this as my early holiday present to you!

"If you don't mind, could you stay on the call for me? Until I fall asleep?" "Of course, my love."

"You are beautiful regardless of what you wear, my dear. You could be in sweat pants & I would still kiss your lips."

"Honey, you're exhausted. You're not gonna get any better if you don't get any rest. Here, let me take you to bed."

"You have a very nice voice." "Well, it looks like this nice voice is putting you to sleep." "That's good to hear."

"Some nice hot cocoa should help soothe your throat, love."

Having a sore throat & them going out to the store to find some remedies to help make it better.

Putting some rain noises in the background to help you sleep. (Rain noises hit FUCKING different. 😩)

Them reading one of their books out loud to help you fall asleep & the sound their voice helps you sleep.

They're working late tonight so you devise a plan to do a FaceTime just so you can feel their presence near you.

Rubbing your back to help you fall asleep.

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath 👇 ☆ミ

🩷 - Felt eepy with this one, fellas. Well, it's technically the wintertime & it's natural to feel so sleepy. Makes ya wanna curl up into a blanket & take a long ass sleep. I was also listening to music box music while writing this, so no wonder this has a sleepy theme to it. I'm going to drop it here so you guys can give it a listen.

This might be the last prompt of the year since I'm probably gonna take a break. Hey, I think I deserve it because I made hella progress in what? Like 4 months? I have gained lots of support for my work & 180 followers. Jesus!

Before I go, I want to say. Thank you. Thank you for everything you guys have done for me, even though it's not much. This started as a blog for shits & giggles about silly boys. Now, it's a blog where I write for fun. I haven't written for fun in a while & by God, this is some fresh air.

Now, I'm going to be adjusting the Masterpost so it's less crowded & I will be on my merry way.

I'm Louie & thank you for shopping at the Topic Hot.

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earthtooz · 1 year

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༉‧₊˚. BLUE LOCK MASTERLIST:

ITOSHI RIN:

❛ 2 AM it’s 2 am and someone is knocking on your door like a madman...

❛ ferris wheel kiss in which he kisses you for the first time on a ferris wheel.

❛ itoshi rin bf hc

❛ sugar n everything nice why the hell was itoshi rin in your kitchen?

❛ nervous out of all things to happen on a saturday evening, you weren't expecting itoshi rin to crash your date.

❛ dimples when itoshi rin was younger he had the prettiest dimples.

❛ kiss cam + jealousy

❛ PUNCH TO THE HEART ! 2.2k words | boxer!rin shows up at your place at 2:35 am, desperate for some first aid and your love.

❛ NO FEAR | 5k event 5k words | itoshi rin rejected you, so why isn’t he handling your avoidance well?

❛ clingy!rin

❛ ABUNDANCE ! 1.6k words | rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you and you don’t know how to stop him either.

❛ MORE 1.1k words | rin’s not happy with your decision to sleep on the couch.

❛ SAY YES TO ME 2.1k words | itoshi rin tastes like grape soju, temptation, and adoration, all in one.

❛ morning kiss you have yet to give rin his morning kiss.

AFTERGLOW 5.2k words | rin doesn’t realise what he has until it’s gone. now that you’re gone, he will do anything to get you back.

❛ HEART LIKE YOURS 1.1k words | rin is drunk and incredibly infatuated with you. so much so, that he wonders what he did to deserve someone like you.

❛ unofficial boyfriend rin

MIKAGE REO:

❛ hurt/comfort blurb

❛ reo boyfriend headcanons

❛ SHADE MATCH 1.3k words | reo loves your lipstick. even more so when it’s on him.

❛ SWEET NOTHING 2k words | reo doesn’t think he has many loveable traits. you show him otherwise.

❛ COUPLE HUNDRED MILES 1.4k words | you’re a few minutes away from boarding a flight when an unexpected mikage reo appears and spills his heart to you.

❛ drabble

❛ AUGUST 12TH 2k words | reo sees his birthday marked down on your calender, and it fills him with the courage to win you back. or, he’s hiding from the paparazzi… in your apartment, for whatever reason.

ITOSHI SAE:

❛ nap time you've ruined him. you've ruined his nap time (he can't nap without you anymore).

❛ sae hurt/comfort

❛ beach holidays with sae

❛ WITH(OUT) 1.8k words | in which: after a messy breakup with sae, you find yourself waking up next to him two weeks later, this time just more in love.

❛ TWO WEEKS collab masterlist | as sae’s manager, you should not have fallen in love with him, so you’ll give yourself two weeks. two weeks and you’ll never hear of itoshi sae ever again… not unless the soccer star has something to say about that.

❛ CHANGE YOUR MIND 1.2k words | it’s 2 am and itoshi sae is outside your door, hoping for a second chance.

ISAGI YOICHI:

APOLOGY ACCEPTED ! 1.9k words | isagi doesn't like it when you give him the silent treatment.

NAGI SEISHIRO:

❛ nagi bf headcanons

❛ BETWEEN LOVE AND LIES ! | 5k event 11.9k words | you thought nagi was dating you for media reputation... so why does this relationship feel suspicious real?

MICHAEL KAISER: ❛ LOVE OF A KIND 2.2k words | kaiser needs to be reassured that you love him, even if it’s just a fraction of how special you are to him.

MULTI:

❛ FAKE LOVE┆nagi + rin + sae the reader receives hate

❛ FAKE LOVE pt 2┆reo + kaiser + isagi the reader receives hate

❛ I KNOW I LOVE YOU ! ┆nagi + rin + reo when they realised they loved you

❛ POCKY GAME┆multi in which, you play the pocky game with bllk boys

#i'll organise this more thoroughly one day but for now i will let it remain a conglomeration #blue lock x reader

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lilsocksiswriting · 3 months

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Fandom: Jujitsu Kaisen

Paring: Sukuna X Fem!reader

Summary: Holidays back home are here, Sukuna makes you cum harder.

Warnings: NSFW, No Beta, minors DNI,

Tags: College/modern Au, hurt/comfort, phone sex, orgasm denial, Sukuna likes to be called sir, Sukuna pep talks, mutual masturbation

Word Count: 4.04K

Master list

Chapter Six || Chapter Eight

Y/N: I have landed in the land of layovers! Now it’s time for food!

Sukuna: Overpriced fast food? How exciting.

Y/N: A land of layover delicacy.

Y/N: I landed home.

Sukuna: good, you managed to get home without falling out of the sky.

Sukuna: Morning doll.

Sukuna: Do not look at the image Yuji sends you

The gang(but we aren’t like a gang gang)

Yuji: Y/N! We went to go see the Christmas lights and I got bro to ride the littel kids' train with me!

Yuji sent a pic

Y/N: omg

Nobara: look at him! Ha! He barely fits! How did you manage to get him to go???

Megumi: He looks pissed. He’s going to scare the children.

Yuji: …He did make a few cry.

Megumi: Did he go on the train ride just to make small children cry?

Yuji: I told him it would make Y/N smile.

Sukuna: Morning again

Sukuna: That littel shit ate all the cereal again.

Sukuna: I. fucking. Hate. The supermarket. This time of year is the worst. They’re all like littel bugs scurrying about in a panic, but I really want that cereal.

Sukuna: What are you up to tonight? Any fancy parties?

Sukuna: I swear to god the barista was someone from the club. I flirted with him a bit in case you wanted to take him home one night.

Sukuna: It’s pretty nice out today.

Sukuna: Keep leaving me on read, ok

The moment you got off the plane it was dinner with your mother’s roommate for college. The next morning it was brunch with your grandparents on your father’s side at the country club followed by a late afternoon tea. That evening it was a Christmas party at your mother's law firm.

You did manage to sneak a peak at your phone to see the most adorable picture of Sukuna, squished into a child-sized seat little train ride full of kids and their parents. He had his arms crossed and a deep, pouty frown. What a humbug. God, he was so cute!

You have just enough time to send a quick reply in the group chat before you have put your phone away and pretend as if nothing happened. Your mother finding out that you had a boyfriend was the last thing that you needed right now. And one that did not meet her standards? You don’t even dare fathom the response she would have. Your relationship was already strained from transferring to a university not her choosing. You will be the first L/N not to graduate from the private university of your hometown.

For the rest of the evening, you do the same thing you had been doing since the moment you stepped off the plane, pretend. You pretend to be elated to see your old friends from high school, your old roommate, relatives, and your parents’s coworkers. You pretend to laugh along with their jokes and jabs about you going to a state university now.

All the while feeling more and more alone and desperate for just one genuine thing. A real smile, a real compliment, or real merry anything! But what would be the use of that? Wasn't looking pretty and perfect enough?

When you get home you're pooped but you cannot sleep. You toss and turn in your sheets. You feel weird. You feel so lonely and disconnected from the real world. In the darkness of your childhood bedroom, you wonder if your university was even real.

'that's stupid Y/N of course it's real.'

You remind yourself of all the hard work you put into the last semester and how you deserve a break. But when could you take that? It's so much work not making any waves here back here at home. Making sure that the holiday remains jolly and all that. Had it always been this hard?

You remind yourself that you have friends. You scroll through the group chat reading what everyone is up to. This was a bad idea. They all lived in the same town, and they all were enjoying the break together. They didn't have to pretend like everything was fine and great and like they were not becoming the disappointment of their families.

You make a bigger mistake by clicking on Sukun's messages. He gave you these cute littel updates that slowly stopped which made sense since you had not replied to any of his texts since landing. Not much sense in doing so now since it was later in the time zone he was in.

But, fuck, you missed Sukuna. You missed Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi. You missed how Sukuan's bed smelled. How you could hear Yuji and their grandpa in the mornings. You miss how lived in and warm the house felt. you missed feeling happy.

It was stupid but you called Sukuna. It rings and rings.

rings and rings.

"Oh, so you can't return a simple text but you can call me at three in the goddamn morning?"

you swallow a knot in your throat. God, just hearing his pissed-off, groggy voice made you relax under your comforter.

"I'm sorry, I've barely had time to check my phone," is the excuse you gave to him. You keep your voice quiet, paranoid that your mom can come knocking at any moment.

"Oh, too busy being all rich and distinguish to give your low-life boyfriend a text?" he sneers.

"It's not like that, my mom-"

He does not give you a chance to explain your actions, "Would be appalled that you're dating a guy like me?"

"No- well yes, but it's more than that. She is already mad at me-

"Mad?” his laugh and dark and sends a shiver down your spine. “About what? Did you use the wrong salad fork? Did she find out that you fraternizing with someone so being your wealth? " his voice is now shaper, cutting into your feelings and getting straight to the bone.

No, no, hearing Sukuna's voice was supposed to make you feel happy and remind you that there is an end to this long trip home.

"It's not like that...." you trail off. What was it like to go back home, to feel so hesitant to tell everyone about your boyfriend, and your friends, and how much you are enjoying your degre program??

"Oh, I think it very much is Doll. You see all your rich friends and their rich parents with their nice cars and nice-"

"No!" your voice rises and becomes tighter, "It's not like that at all and you sound like yo-you don't understand at all."

"Than make me," he threatens.

Oh, oh that littel shit was good. It was one of the oldest's tricks in his book. He pesters and angers you until you tell him exactly what it is that is bothering you.

"It's all so fucking fake Sukuna...." the dam breaks and tears well up in your eyes. "It's been one gathering after the other where I felt like I have to act like everything is fine and the whole family doesn't see me as this..this disappointment for not choosing the university they went to. And everyone here is so fake too. I don't that one person has genuinely wished me a merry anything. And you know what I want to gush about you. I wanna tell everyone how you make me swoon and laugh I want to save that cute picture of you in that tiny ass train seat as my lock screen. I want to tell them about my friends and the things we all get up to…. but I can't because.... because...I'm scared of dealing with ramifications. "

you were scared of what your mother might do.

But she would never...

would she...

"Doll?"

"I'm scared of what she might do if she finds out I have friends there....if I have you....a-and I'm afraid she might...." your voice was shakey as things came together. It is still not all there, but the feelings are.

"Doll keep talking to me," you hear Sukuna encourage.

"I-all this time I thought it was so ridiculous that me going to a different college bothered my mother so much. b-but I get it now, that's wh-why I'm hiding all of you... I'm afraid she'll take it away from me."

Sukuna scoffs, "Oh she can try doll. but I'd hunt you down no matter where that wench tries to hide you."

he can't see you shake your head," No...you don't get it.... This is what she does. If I choose something that that's not up to her standards she doesn't just take it away or hide it from me... She'll- she'll make me give it... I-I do want to give you up. Sh-she so manipulative that way I’ve fallen for it so many times.”

"Hey,” god his sift voice was killing you in the best way. You could melt into it. Just become lost in that deep tone forever. You cling to it like a lifeline. You'll continue clinging to it until you can find your way back to him. "Don't get choked up on me.... just breathe with me for a bit."

you try, you really try. God what if your mom passes by? What if she makes out your hushed tone? You can hear the things she would say.

'Baby, why are you crying?'

'No, no, baby, a good boyfriend wouldn't make you cry.'

'Well the fact that you have to hide him tells me you know this is a bad relationship to be in.'

"Su-Sukuna...."

"Yea Doll?"

"C-can you just talk to me? just- don't want to think. I just wanna hear your voice, please?"

"Yeah," and Sukuna goes on the tell you about his day, about the appointments he had at work, and what he's eaten. There we go, you breathing clams. When Sukuan can't hear the sobs and hiccups he starts to ask you questions.

"So you have to tell me how about all the crazy rich people shit that’s been happening."

“Wait hold on! You mean she dated twin A all throughout school, had this man's child, then left him for Twin B! And no one really bats an eye because it's his name in the law firm?"

When Sukuna hears you giggle he can finally relax. He made a note to ask you more about your home situation, mabey torturer some information out of his younger brother. But right now he just doesn't want to hear you like that again with him being so far away.

"So what are you wearing?"

"Oh my god Sukuna really?" you giggle again and it was so fucking cute how you sounded.

"I'm in nothing"

"B-bull," he can hear the flusteredness in your voice.

"Well I am now", he says kicking off his sweats. "So know what you know what I'm wearing..."

"a slik pjay set,” You answer. “Just a shirt and shorts. Nothing really special.”

"Fuuuck," his hands slip down his bare stomach, "That pretty pink one you 've worn to sleepovers ?"

"Yeah- you remember what I wear to sleepovers?"

"Oh, i remember that little set."

you squeeze your thighs together grab your AirPods from your nightstand and pop them in so your hands feel to play with yourself.

"Why?" you ask

On the other end Sukuan smirks. his hand reaches his soft cock that's already getting hard at your timid inquiry.

"Why? Are you really asking me that? you really don't have a clue what you do to me? You’ve got to have soem idea doll. Did you ever think it was odd that I took one look at you in those little shorts and wished all you little shits a good night then headed up to my room?"

A hand finds itself between thighs. your fingers being rubbed yourself over your shorts. "I-I just brushed it off as Sukuan being Sukuna. What did you do up there, while we were all just downstairs?"

"I stroked my fat cock like am now, " he tells you.

"Oh," you moan.

"What are you doing right now doll?"

"I'm touching myself, th-through my shorts," you tell him feeling hot and needy all of a sudden. That's just the effect that Sukuan's deep, shameless voice has on you.

"Over your clothes? That doesn't sound too fun. Be a good girl and put your hand down your shorts, slip your fingers between those pretty lips, and tell me how wet you are."

Getting so caught up in his playful and authoritative voice you obey. Your breath hitches when your cold finger slips under the waistband of your panties. You hear Sukuna hum on the other end.

"Fuck Doll I'm already so hard for you, missed your sweet cunt squeezing around my cock. "

"Su-sukuna..." You push your fingers between your lips and gasp, "Oh-oh my god, i-i'm wet."

You hear a raspy giggle, "I fucking knew that needy pussy missed me."

"So much," you mumble gathering up the slick and rubbing it over your clit. "A-are you still....."

"Mhm, going nice and slow. Taking my sweet time and enjoying all those sounds you making for me."

You giggle," I've barely made any noise. I'm trying to be as quiet as I can."

His voice grows stern, "Don't you fucking dare doll. Don't keep one sound from, I wanna hear it all."

"o-ok"

"Ok sir," he corrects you.

Your pussy throbs at the authority in his voice, "Wh-what?"

"Tonight, you call me sir and follow my orders. If you do that, be my good girl, then you'll get a reward."

"Damn, " is all your mind can muster. your boyfriend was so hot.

"What was that?"

"y-yes sir."

"Good girl," his voice was like melted honey in your ears, "Take off those shorts so you can get to that cute cunt better. "

You kick off your comforter then push your shorts and panties down your hips. They wind up somewhere beside your bed

"it sounds like you enjoying yourself doll."

"I am," you answer and quickly remember to add, " sir."

"You catch in so quick." Sukuna rubs his thumb over the head of his cock.

"Permission to ask a question, sir?" you ask before your mind becomes too muddled that you forget it.

"yes, doll?"

"W-what did you think about? When you were upstairs jerking off?"

Sukuna hums, the noise going straight to your core makes you moan softly.

"Curious thing aren't you? why should I divulge my secret fantasies to you?"

Of course, Sukuna was teasing you. And of course, you getting so caught up in the way he makes you feel so lot and good that you play into this sir kink he has.

Honestly, Sukuna would love to tell you all the lewd fanatics that he had since you first called him an ass to his face.

"B-because they have me in them?"

"mmm, try again~,” he teases.

"Because I wanna know what makes you feel good sir."

He smirks, his hands flicking over his head and smearing pre-cum down his shaft. "Mainly I think about you under me, fucking into you so rough your titis bounce under that silky top. Yes, making ride my thigh until your cryin' and creaming though the shorts making a big wet spot all before a fuck anther orgasm out of ya."

"Oh god," you gasp. Your body responds to his deceptions. “Remind me to wear that more when I get back. Can I go faster sir, please?"

“Of course doll," he tells you but don't register the sly tone. You wanna hear more of his voice and let him make you feel so good that you do not that think that there mighty a catch."Tell me how it feels."

You spread your legs wider, leaning your head back as you described the ecstasy coursing through your body as your fingers work at your clit faster," So good sir, my pussy sounds so wet for you. I miss you so much. My hole’s clenching around nothing sir.”

Sukuna lets out a ragged breath, fisting his cock faster ."That’s a good girl, Don't leave that tight cunt out, fuck yourself on your fingers for me."

"Ye-yes, sir," you were so wet at this point that your index and middle finger slipped right on in.

"Oh god, s-sir I can fit in two so easily."

Now it's Sukuna's turn to throw his head back. "And what about three?"

The noises you make are so cute m, so lewd, and shameless. Just how how lies to have you. You push in another, "Yes"

"And a fourth?"

"Mmm, makes me feel so full sir."

"That's good, that's good. Now fuck yourself like that was my cock filling you."

" y-yes sir, haa~ sir, feel so good, I can feel myself squeeze around them, so tight 'n' hot sir."

"That's it, that's my good girl,” he purrs. Sukuan swallows. He hopes that you can hear the quick fapfapfap of him stroking his cock. God did his body miss you did it crave to feel your touch again. He swears he can cum just knowing that he is not the only one craving sex.

The heel of your palm now scrapes over your clit making you tremble and moan Sukuna's name. you feel an orgasm growing and the world falling away.

"That’s it, that’s my good girl," he praises you making you feel so warm and happy. "Now stop."

"Sir~" You've graon but do as told.

Sukuna gets a rise out of this and laughs at you.,"Not so soft am I now?"

You blink up at the ceiling of your bedroom, fingers sit soaking in your cunt. soft? soft-" Are you serious? you bringing that up now?"

"I told you I wasn't going to forget that."

"Ugh, you are so evil."

His voice talks in that authoritative tone again, "I'm sorry what was that?"

"You are so evil, sir."

He hums. Sukuan grips the base of his cock. It weighs heavily in his hand, matching the weight he feels in his balls. They are filled with cum he wants to spill into your clenching hole and not his hand.

“Poor Y/N, “ he coos,” So hot and needy from her boyfriend's words, but he’s being so mean make you sit there with that needy cunt filled with her fingers.”

The wine that you make makes Sukuna groan, “That’s it doll, cry for me soem more. Beg for it.”

"pleeeease sir," your hole needy cut squeezes around your fingers, "Please let me fuck myself on my fingers for you. need it so bad. Please, sir."

Holy fuck are you a fast learner. In his state, the thought that you could be a succubus who knows just what to say makes his cock hard, and aching crosses his mind. Sukaun lets a low moan rumble through his chest, That’s it doll, more. G-give me more."

You inhale a wobbly breath, straining to keep your fingers still inside yourself. “It's so hard not to move sir. Not to curl my fingers inside me the way that you do. Miss the way you fuck me so much. Miss you so much, sir. I-i don’t think I can make myself cum the way you make me do.”

“You sound so patient right now,” Sukuna mocks you as he starts to stroke his erection again. “Can’t even make herself cum, you have to have me ther to do it for you. It's only been a few days and you already miss this fat cock stuffing you cunt. Fucking you full of my cum until you’re screaming.”

“Sir please,” you beg.

You hear Sukuna’s harsh breath on the other end,” fuck, sound so good when you beg like th-Ah! That Doll. You wanna cum with me?”

“Yesyesyes,” you nod eagerly even though he can’t see you. Your cunt is just as eager squeezing around your fingers.

“Then go on, fuck yourself for me doll, let me hear all those cute noises you make as you cum imaging those fingers are my cock fucking you like your my little sex doll.”

Finally being given permission to pleasure yourself, you began pumping your fingers in and out of you. Ecstasy runs rampant through your system. Your soft cries of pleasure sound so good to Sukuna. He groans pumping his fists faster.

“That's is doll that's is, that's it, fuck you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, " your fingers curl and manage to find that spot inside you that makes you arch your back,” Please master let me cum, need to cum so bad.”

There is an amused moan from the other end before Sukaun taunts you,” Yea you need to cum that bad? You think you can get there with my voice alone?”

“Yes, please let me cum sir,” You plead feeling the pressure build in your gut, but you're somehow staving off an orgasm until Sukuna says which is madding. “I need so bad. Please, sir.”

Having you pleading like that and knowing he has so much power over you at this moment makes him feel so good. He curses as his hips jerk.

“My desperate little slut being such a good girl waiting for me to give her permission, “he says in a breathless voice.

You whimper this time making his eye roll back, “Yes I’m desperate to cum Sir. Please, please i need this. “

“Then cum,” Sukuna demands bucking his hips into his fist, “Hard.”

Your whole body feels light, your ass floating off the bed. You ruthlessly shove your fingers knuckle deep in your sopping wet pussy. Your palm ruts into your clit as you feel yourself become flooded with pleasure and ecstasy.

On the other end of the phone, Sukuna moans your name as cum covers his closed fist. He feels his cock twitch against his palm as spurt after spurt leaks from the tip and over his fingers.

As you float back down to your bed you barely register any of the lonely feelings of being home again.

“You still with me doll?” the softness of Sukuna’s voice for the other end begins your voice back.

“Yeah,” you give a small uncomfortable noise as you slip your finger out of yourself, “just, wowed like always.”

“How you feelin’?” he asks reaching over to grad some tissue for his nightstand.

“Great, I think I really need that….and to just hear your voice. Thank you for picking up.”

Sukuan throughs the tissue into the trash leaving the two of you in silence before replying, “Even if I’m annoyed with you for designing your ghosting shit… I’ll always pick up Y/N”

“Thank you.”, your voice wobbles a bit,” I’m sorry for haunting you.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes “Come on don't start crying again.”

“I’m sorry it's just a lot harder when I’m home.”

“God stop apologizing you sound so pathetic,” Sukuna scoffed then addressed you in a stern voice,” Listen y/n, stand proud. You are strong. You will continue to smile and endure your family knowing that you will come back here. When you do come back then you can let out all those emotions, to me, in my arms. Understood? “

“Yes sir,” you confirm wiping away your tears,” But can you do one more thing for me? Well, two actually.”

His automatic reply is, “Anything.”

“Can you stay on the line until I fall back asleep? And, can you keep giving me those cute little updates about your day? They kind of make mine.”

“As long as you don't call them cute, then yes.

You pull up your shorts and settle back under the comforter. You get lulled back to sleep by his soft voice and more stories about what everyone has been up to since you left. And just when you are on the edge of falling asleep ask,” Oh, and doll?”

“Hmmm?”

“Happy holidays,” he says and wants to say more, but he thinks neither of you is ready for those words, at least not yet.

You make a happy hum on the other end of the phone and Sukuna only ends the call when he can hear your even breaths and a slight snore here and there.

#sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk college au #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk sukuna #privet stacks #jujutsu kaisen

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