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immajustvibehere · 7 months

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Touch Starved Arthur x fem!touchy Reader (Part 2)

Pairing: hh!Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader (fluffly)

Part1 here!

summary: Arthur takes you and Jack out camping for two nights. Both of you have to battle your feelings for each other until you finally....

warnings: one bed trope, fluff, domestic bliss

6000 words

In the manner of Arthur’s approach, you knew he was up to something. His big hands rested on his gun belt, his expression was casual. His attempt to appear relaxed was almost perfect. You weren’t fooled so easily, though. By the smug grin that started to appear on your face as Arthur came closer, he understood that you had sensed his unease from a mile away. Your intuition was exceptional, and Arthur silently cursed himself for his own transparency. And suddenly, there were his subtle tells…the scratching of his neck, the scrunching of his nose, the restlessness of his fingers caressing the leather of the belt.

"Hey, what's up?", you asked and propped your head up with your elbow resting on the table.

"Uhm...I have a proposition to make", Arthur awkwardly sat down at the table. Thankfully, barely anyone else was around to witness this encounter. The sun hadn’t risen yet and people were only slowly crawling out of their beds. In fact, Arthur still saw the remnants of sleep in your features but the steaming mug of coffee in front of you suggested that you were diligently combating it.

"I'm all ears."

Arthur couldn’t help but detect the playful undertone in your voice. You had grown more comfortable around each other the last few days and weeks and some banter and teasing were commonplace by now, particularly in the presence of others. But when you found yourselves alone, which hadn’t really happened since last time, you’d feel like there was a more genuine connection and care for each other than either of you would normally let on.

"Ya can say no if ya don't want to but-...well, I already talked to Abigail. She said she was fine with it", Arthur started. You had no clue what he was on about, but he pressed on, "I suggested we take out Jack for a night or two. The boy needs to see something aside this patch of land and I thought...if you would wanna tag along? You know, I was fine fishing with him but I'm not sure if I'd be any good at the other stuff."

"Yes, of course", you immediately replied. Arthur wasn't sure why he had expected a rejection or a dismissal that he was stupid to suggest such a thing. You actually looked pleasantly surprised about the idea.

You smiled: "It's not just Jack, you know? I haven't left camp since we moved here, so I'll get to see some of the country too!"

"Okay, sure", Arthur said, still somewhat in surprise about what you had just agreed to. But his surprise soon gave way to a sense of anticipation, especially when he noticed enthusiasm. He couldn’t supress a warm chuckle, evidently relieved that everything had worked out.

You briefly discussed the logistics, and Arthur settled on a plan: a night between Dewberry Creek and Ringneck Creek for the first stop, followed by, if Jack was up for it, a night in a room at the Rhodes Saloon.

The following day, you were all packed up. Your horse carried a rolled-up tent, large enough to accommodate the three of you. Jack rode with Arthur, he was the experienced rider after all and would be much greater use in keeping the child from sliding off the horse. It was a fine day, the morning sun was veiled behind some clouds, offering a respite from the usual stifling heat. Rain wasn’t to be expected, the clouds looked like they would clear sooner or later.

For the ride, Jack was dead silent for ten minutes at a time but then asked any question he could come up with. Arthur appreciated your willingness to respond, particularly when faced with Jack’s more challenging inquiries that needed to be tailored for a child’s understanding. Arthur was outright impressed at your skill in addressing his questions, and kept silent, even if Jack wanted his view on something specifically.

It was a smooth ride. Once you had passed the first creek you kept looking for an ideal spot to build your camp. You watched happily how Arthur pretended to discuss the area with Jack, granting him the final say in where to put up the tent. Arthur was responsible for the tent while you went off with Jack to look for firewood. When you returned, the tent had been putt up and Arthur had already gotten out the fishing gear.

"Are we fishing again?", Jack asked with curiously.

"Well, we gotta eat something", Arthur answered.

"But fishing's boring!" Jack said back and Arthur chuckled warmly. The last time he took the boy fishing, it was anything but uneventful, though he understood that a four-year-old wasn't so keen on standing still and waiting.

You squatted in front of Jack: "Why don't you take your toys with you to the water? You can play and Arthur and I'll do the boring waiting."

"Mh, okay."

You walked over to Ringneck Creek. Arthur settled on the same spot he had been to while fishing with Javier a while back. It had a good overlook of the place, so Jack could play in the distance, while still being in eye- and earshot. You and Arthur sat down next to each other, not saying anything and prepping the fishing rod. Even when there were no words exchanges, both of you felt comfortable in each other’s presence. Arthur felt your eyes on him as he pierced a tiny bit of cheese through the hook and handed the rod to you.

“The fish get cheese for lunch? That’s mighty fine, don’t you think?”, you joked.

“This cheese? It has been mouldy for days now. It won’t do us any good. But for fish? The stinker, the better”, Arthur explained and added in a mumble, “Or so I’ve heard…”

You both threw out your line and before you quipped: “So you keep your mouldy cheese in your satchel with the rest of your food?”

Arthur watched the rings expanding around his line, then swallowed quickly before looking you in the eye. Not very convinced he answered: “No…?”

He had expected a lesson on proper food hygiene, but you only grinned cheekily: “Glad I took care of food for this trip. But you really shouldn’t do that, you know? Next time you leave camp for more than a day, I’ll pack you something.”

“Ya don’t have to do that, really”, Arthur replied out of politeness, but the idea of you walking up to him with a sandwich to take on his journeys sent tingles to his chest.

“Mh. I insist”, you said, “I’ll have to take care of you if your stomach goes mad, so I’d rather prevent that. Not that I wouldn’t like to take care of you. Don’t you never keep an injury or sickness a secret in front of me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am”, Arthur said, “You sound like Miss Grimshaw, it’s good yer away from camp for a while”, Arthur joked. Deep down, he knew that you didn’t want to control him, but that you sincerely cared for his well-being. Something Arthur couldn’t quite understand. Of course, he would do the same for you – but that’s different because he had already figured out that he liked your attention more than anyone else. No, that he liked you more than anyone else. Arthur got a little lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t yet entirely sure about his feelings for you. Mainly because he wasn’t sure how you felt. You were so kind and caring for everyone in the gang, he sadly doubted that he was anything special.

“I missed spending some time with you. Sorry that it’s so hard to sneak away from camp”, you said after a while, bringing Arthur back to reality.

“Doesn’t matter”, Arthur mumbled. He was embarrassed that he felt his cheeks getting warm, “We got away now, didn’t we? I feel almost bad that I take up so much of yer time.”

“Please don’t”, you laughed, looking at the man next to you with a smile.

“I think I saw Sean shed a tear when he heard that you’d be away from camp for two days”, Arthur mentioned.

“Yeah. I think he’s sweet on me”, you said so casually, that Arthur was caught off guard, staring at you in disbelieve.

Arthur cleared his throat before he slowly said: “I thought he and Karen…?”

“Well, Karen is good for one thing”, you said with an ambiguous smile, not meaning serious offence with those words, “I’m good for another.”

From the distance, you heard Jack calling for ‘uncle Arthur’. Arthur sighed with a smile and handed you his finishing rod.

“Yer okay to watch that?”, he asked.

“Sure, go ahead”, you encouraged him.

Jack wanted Arthur’s help to balance on a dead tree. It was wholesome to see how Arthur helped him up on the trunk and then held his hand so he would have an easier time balancing. Then the boy would sit on Arthur’s shoulders and break a smooth looking branch from a tree, using it to play swords fighting with Arthur. You knew that Arthur was gentle with Jack and compared to some men in the gang, even to John if you were honest, he was doing a great job. Still, you hadn’t dreamt that he'd be ready to take on a whole swords fight, pretending to get stabbed when Jack’s twig poked his leg. You noticed Arthur’s stolen glances in your direction. It was as if he wanted to make sure you were watching, though you didn’t have the impression that he only played along to impress you. Arthur seemed to genuinely enjoy it.

“Caught anything yet?”, Arthur’s voice woke you up from your daydreams when he walked up to you after a while.

“No…”, you answered and admitted, “I was a little distracted.”

“Ain’t blamin’ ya. We gave you a hell of a show”, Arthur said and took his spot next to you again. Luckily, a few fish bit later on and by the time you walked back to your tent, a fire could be built and the fish were grilled. A lot of time had passed, and the sun was already low in the sky. Jack demanded to be read to from his favourite book. After you had read a few pages and Jack had settled in to listen to some more, you handed the book to Arthur. He had been busy with stoking the fire and cleaning the grit, so he was a little caught off guard by the action.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”, he asked.

“Read to the boy”, you answered with a grin.

“Why can’t you?”, Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised in wonder.

“My throat is starting to feel sore”, you lied so obviously, that even Jack could have seen through it, “besides; I want someone to read to me too.”

Arthur considered the situation for a moment before giving in. The last time he read a book to someone…well, he wasn’t sure. Was it to Jamie when he was still a little boy or to Isaac? Did he ever even read out to Isaac? Arthur was prompted into opening the book when you suddenly snuggled up to him. But that alone made him lose his voice for a moment, so he had to collect himself before starting to read.

You loved how raspy Arthur’s voice would get when he was nervous, but it soon smoothed out and he had barely read for ten minutes when you had to stop him, because Jack had fallen asleep.

“’s barely even dark…”, Arthur commented after he had carried the boy to his bedroll in the tent.

“He did have an eventful day”, you said, and Arthur had to agree. The bottle of whiskey Arthur had brought was soon opened up and half was gone by the time you could make out the first stars in the sky. A lot of your conversation was just recollecting the day or commenting on happenings on the last few days, but after some silence, Arthur started a new conversation.

"Maybe, if ya told me what the other men ask you to do, I'd feel less a fool for asking ya fer something", Arthur suggested. The undertone of his voice revealed curiosity, but he had tried to keep that intent hidden. You were surprised that he remembered what you had talked about the last time it was just the two of us.

"You're unbelievable!", you exclaimed and giggled so light-heartedly. Arthur's heart melted when he saw the crinkles around your eyes. "You just want the gang's gossip!", you accused him.

"No! I'm just sayin'", Arthur shrugged with a smile, "It would really help a lot."

You looked at him, his blue-greenish eyes staring right back at you. You were an avid eye-contact holder, it was required for your role in the gang. But no pair of eyes ever compared to Arthur's. It was his turn to catch your gaze wandering to his lips, he also noticed how your eyes fluttered, when they looked up again, and then briefly away, as if you considered something.

"Fine. I'll tell you some. But I won't tell you who asked me for what."

"Sure."

"Mhhh...it's not the craziest stuff, if you’re expecting that. Most men like when I play with their hair. Or head scratches. I told you I was good at them! Someone likes it when I feed them. Like...you know...we go pick some berries and I feed them. It can be really,...domestic, I suppose. But then it becomes a lot of fun because we try to throw the berries into each other mouths, trying to catch them. It’s great..."

You got slightly embarrassed. When you spend time with other men from the gang, you always tried to give them an experience that made them happy. Some of it was oddly intimate. It didn't bother you much, but now, speaking about it with Arthur, you somehow started to worry that you'd be worth less in his eyes. Just because you have done those things with his friends. It wasn't like you slept with them. No, none, with very few exceptional instances, have ever been inappropriate.

You were silent for a while, those thoughts taking over quickly. And yet, what should it matter? It’s just Arthur, it was okay if he knew that side of you.

You sighed deeply, still finding Arthur’s eyes glued to your lips.

"Some of them like to show off to me. It's real stupid stuff. Like 'look how quick I can draw' or 'check out this piece of wood I whittled'. I suppose these are just things they are mildly proud at...but embarrassed to show someone. I...like that, though. It's really cute and reveals something about the person. There is always something to praise or enjoy about it. And they really appreciate it."

Arthur stared into the fire, nodding his head slowly.

After a while, he started with: "I ehrm-..." Then he pulled out his journal.

"It's nothing special either...", he flipped through some pages, only to reveal a double-sided sketch of Clemen's Point. A beautiful sketch, well-observed with depth and detail. You knew Arthur kept a journal – you never knew he drew in it! And from all the sketches the other men had ever shown you, most of them could have been done better by Jack, this was honestly impressive.

"Arthur-"

"I know, 's silly", and he was about to close the journal when you snatched it out of his hand and placed it in your lap. Not daring to flip the page but studying the sketch in front of you.

"Are you kidding? It's fucking amazing."

When Arthur looked at you in disbelieve, you doubled down: "Fuck you, man. I can't even pick out things I like to praise because the whole damn thing's just-!"

"Yer teasing me..."

"Am not! When someone shows me a drawing, I often have to guess, like ‘Oh, that’s a nice bison you drew.’ And then they correct me and go like ‘It’s supposed to be a dog.’ and we have a good laugh about it…but this…Is that Dutch's horse?", you asked, pointing at the little white stallion. Arthur confirmed it. You started to point at things, accurately identifying what it was. John's tent, the chicken coop, even the figure in the distance, that only was a vague outline of a person, you identified as if you had been there when it was drawn.

"You have more drawings in there?", you asked.

"Sure. But- wait", he took the journal back, carefully skipping the pages where he had sketched you, which had happened suspiciously often recently, and only showing you the landscapes and animals. You never expected that Arthur had an eye for things like that. A doe was captured perfectly in its shy manner. A funny looking cabin, a crooked tree. For all those things, Arthur stopped and took his time to draw them. It was stunning. You felt like he had given you a better idea of what sort of a man he actually is. To say you liked that version of him, was an understatement and you started to realise this with every sketch of ducks or fish he presented to you.

"When you find someone, someone you really like. And start a family...you could draw and sell those pictures, you know?"

Arthur was shocked. Firstly, why you knew about his wish to start a family, and secondly, that you suggested his drawings are nearly good enough for anyone to pay money for.

"Y/n", Arthur lamented, almost with a painful voice. As if you were that naive girl that had no idea about how life works. That there could never be a family for him, never a different life than shooting and robbing to get to some money.

"Have you ever painted? Like with colour and a paintbrush?", you interrupted.

"Ain't worth it. I'd be no good with colour. And it's too expensive."

"When's your birthday?", you asked out of the blue. You were determined. If you had to work your ass off for it or drop to your knees in front of Miss Grimshaw, you'd get this man a paintbrush.

"No", Arthur said firmly.

"Come on!", you quipped.

"Stop it. It's just a stupid thing I do to pass some time it ain't-"

"But I love them!", you interrupted, "I really do. Every single one you showed me."

"Clearly, something ain’t right in your head then", Arthur joked and put his journal away.

"You are a charming man, Mr. Morgan," you teased back, bumping into his shoulder.

As if your words had confirmed Arthur's accusation, he comically tapped your forehead with his index finger: "Really messed up, aren't you?"

"Why?", you said, switching gears and skilfully capturing Arthur's finger that had went for another tap. It took both of your hands to open Arthur's hand, not that he resisted, but his hands were huge. And with your guidance, Arthur's hand cupped your cheek. "Is it because I like to spend time with you? Do you think one has to be mad to enjoy that? Because if you do think that...I have to give you ten reasons why you are wrong."

Arthur barely listened to your words. His senses were hyper focused on his hand which was touching your cheek. Warm and soft. Not smooth like a perfect hide, but skin isn't perfect. Hell, his hand must be mighty uncomfortable. It was calloused, beaten up, scarred. There was no rational reason why you would snuggle your face into it like it was a pillow you readied for a night's sleep.

With pleasure you watched how often he blinked, how flustered he became, how his hand twitched in excitement under your touch. As careful as you were some butterfly, Arthur’s thumb dared to caress your cheek. The movement was so small, it was like he didn’t even want you to notice that you he had dared to do that. Somehow, this rough and hardened outlaw was a real sensitive guy. A sensitive guy who made your stomach flutter.

"I'll head to bed and join Jack, you coming too?", you asked, guiding Arthur's hand into your lap and holding in lightly with your two hands.

"Imma...t-take care of the fire a little longer", Arthur answered with coarse voice, his throat entirely dried up.

"M'kay", you smiled and stood up without letting go of Arthur's hand. Halfway in the process of standing up you halted, pressing a light kiss on Arthur's cheek and whispered good night, before finally letting go and walking off to the tent.

Though you were exhausted, it was tricky to sleep. You listened to Arthur who was still attending the fire, walking up and down, whispering to the horses and occasionally took a swig from the bottle. Jack slept at the side of the tent, you had taken the spot in the middle. No matter how long it felt until sleep finally took over, Arthur crawled into the tent ten minutes later, only to find out that you had messed with the sleeping set-up. It wasn’t the way he had arranged it, namely, a very inequal distribution of blankets and ‘pillows’ (rolled-up jackets or other garments). Arthur had planned to spend the night without a blanket, so you and Jack had two. But you had given up one of yours, which neatly waited on Arthur’s bedroll for him.

“She ain’t gonna make this easy for me”, Arthur thought, before lying down.

“Uncle Arthur!”, Jack squatted next to the man who was still fast asleep. Well, until the boy started to shake him with all his might, though it barely rattled the man.

“Aunt y/n told me to wake you”, Jack smiled innocently. Arthur was trying to grasp the situation. For a fleeting moment, he thought there was danger nearby. Then he had been confused about why Jack was there. Only slowly, as Jack left the tent and the rays of sunshine hit his face, he remembered that he had went out camping with you and the boy. And clearly, he had overslept.

Arthur crawled out of the tent and stood up with a groan, stretching his tired limbs. The smell of coffee had reached his nose before he looked down to see Jack walking towards him, a half-filled cup in his hands.

“For you”, he exclaimed. Arthur took the mug and mumbled his thanks, looking up a little to finally lay eyes on you. The fire was on, the percolator boiling with water, and he saw that you were in the process of readying a little pan for some eggs you had apparently taken from camp.

“Good morning”, you said with a big smile.

“Sorry I overslept…”, Arthur grumbled, sitting down by the fire.

“Nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you could catch up on some sleep.”

Breakfast was nice. You scrambled some eggs, garmented them with herbs you had collected earlier and re-filled Arthur’s mug. Jack was happy after eating a few bites and then playing with his toys in the distance. Arthur and you discussed the rest of the day and decided you would take your time, see if Jack was up for a ride and a stroll through Rhodes and spending another night at the Saloon.

Later, Jack helped you with washing the dishes at the creek. You managed to talk him into throwing a wet rag at Arthur, which he answered by throwing the rag back at you. This started a game of dogde or catch the rag. You laughed a lot. By mid-day you were on your horses, carefully navigating the shadows to escape the relentless sun. After one very slow hour of riding, with breaks whenever Jack discovered something interesting on the ground that needed further investigation, you arrived in Rhodes. After restocking on groceries, you made your way to the saloon, finding it relatively quiet and peaceful still.

“Can I help you, folks?”, the bartender asked, leaning on the counter.

“A room, please”, Arthur stated briefly. The bartender considered you for a moment, his eyes wandered from Arthur to you and finally your hand that rested protectively on Jack’s shoulder.

“We have a special deal for families. Spacious room, enough beds and a discount on a bath”, the bartender explained, opening the ledger where he kept track of which rooms were taken.

“Sounds great!”, you chimed in happily before Arthur could do as much as open his mouth.

“There you go. Walk up the stairs behind there, first door on the right”, the bartender handed you the keys, “Just let me know when you want the water heated up.”

“Will do, thanks!”, you answered. Your free arm was quickly intertwined with Arthur, who was taken by surprise. He stiffened a little but walked off with you and Jack rather convincingly.

“Whoa! This bed is huge!”, exclaimed Jack when you walked into the room.

“Ain’t for you though, little man”, Arthur chuckled. The room was equipped with a bed that was big enough to fit a couple and a toddler, but there was still a children-sized one in the corner. Arthur noticed how your arm slipped away from his as you entered the room, dropping some of your luggage onto the floor.

“Luxurious, isn’t it?”, you smiled. It was definitely better than the rooms you’d get in Valentine and probably even cleaner than the other ones the saloon had to offer. Jack was settling in, testing how bouncy his mattress was and unpacking his toys while Arthur walked up to you, clearing his throat.

“Yer fine with sharin’ a bed?”, he asked.

You raised an eyebrow: “We shared a tent last night, and that was a much tighter fit, wouldn’t you say so?”

“I guess…”, Arthur felt a little helpless. Sharing a bed felt more domestic and intimate than sharing the same tent. Also, Jack wouldn’t be all snuggled up to you, but in his own bed at some distance. Frankly, Arthur was excited. You watched his frown, not quite sure if its origin was because of discomfort or simple nervosity.

“Are you okay with that? I could bring my bedroll and-“, you wanted to suggest, but Arthur was quick to interrupt you: “I just didn’t know if you were fine with it. I don’t want ya to feel uncomfortable.”

“Don’t worry about me”, you smiled, “I’ll go down and ask for a bath. Abigail will be glad I we bring the boy back cleaner than he was before.”

Arthur was alone in the room for nearly an hour, before you and Jack appeared with damp hair, smelling of soap. It was decided that Arthur would also make use of the warmed-up water, and as he went off to the bathroom, you and Jack set your plan in motion.

By the time Arthur returned he was met with a sight that initially puzzled him. The two of you had transformed the little corner with Jack’s bed using the limited resources available to you, creating a makeshift fort out of pillows and blankets. Jack’s small bed had been turned into a cozy cave of sorts, sheltered from the outside world to the point where you needed a lantern to read a book within.

Arthur didn’t even see you at first, he only heard Jack’s bubbly giggle and you shushing him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to play along and pretend that he didn’t know where you were…like some sort of hide-and-seek. But he decided against it, instead sighing happily, and sitting down on the big bed.

“I can hear ya, ya know?”, he said gently.

“No you can’t!”, Jack said back.

“Should have built it bigger, doesn’t look like I’ll fit underneath there”, Arthur commented. Now, you peeked out. Arthur saw how you opened a mouth, but something stopped you for a moment. His hair was wet and slicked back. He hadn’t even bothered putting on his shirt, but instead only wore his pants and union suit underneath. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to button it all the way up. It hugged his muscles perfectly. You knew he was in good shape, but you hadn’t expected THIS.

“Shouldn’t have grown so big then”, you finally said, a fine blush on your cheeks.

As the evening advanced, you had read several chapters to Jack, lulling him into slumber. You then quietly slipped into the bed beside Arthur. After some casual conversation which both of you skilfully and awkwardly used to get closer to each other, Arthur asked something that had been on his mind for a while: "What do you get out of it? All the nurturing and caring for everyone in the gang? Has any one of them ever done right by you?"

"Well...I have a place to stay and sleep. I don't have to worry too much about earning money. And I like making others happy."

Arthur didn't like that. A place to sleep and food, he felt like, shouldn't be things you had to earn by listening to the complaints of others all the time.

"All you get is hearing the troubles of some dirty, foolish outlaws. Ain’t really a life, is it?"

"Some make me happy too", you admitted, quietly. You realised how Arthur tensed up slightly.

"I get to know y'all. Don't you think that's a privilege? For a woman my age? Others can't simply walk around in the street, offer some hand-holding a listenin' and expect this to pay for their meals."

"You want to do this for the rest if your life?", Arthur asked. You scanned his body, focusing on the dark hair that grew on his chest.

"No", you whispered, and gently, you put your hand on his chest. You felt his heart, no, you saw how it beat, the skin of his chest swiftly moving in an up and down movement.

Arthur...was different than the others. You didn't know if it was that there was an actual difference, or if it just felt differently. But the way he treated you, the way he held you...it was so gentle. Like it was touch meant for a lifetime. The others were slightly more prudish, because they knew they had a couple of hours with you and maybe they'd be shot and die the next day. Somehow...not Arthur. When he pulled you closer into a hug, it was always the same, as if it was a welcome back, a coming home. There was no holding onto it, because he sorts of knew you would always be there. And you wanted it to be like that too. Because you, as tricky it was to admit, had feelings for this man.

Now it was you who caught Arthur staring, staring at the unsure movements your lips made as you searched for something to say. Maybe to explain what this all meant to you.

"Do you think it's ridiculous, what I do?", you asked. You wanted to know Arthur's opinion, truly.

"What? No."

"Really?"

"Hell, we'd be a bunch of degenerates if ya didn't keep us together. Yer ignoring Micah. For good reasons, I gotta say, and look what a slimy no-good he is. We'd be all like that if it wasn't for you", Arthur said. There was humour in his voice, but he meant what he had said. You smiled slightly.

"I wish I had come to you earlier", Arthur said.

"We are making up for the lost time, aren't we?", you said and leaned into him. The gesture seemed so familiar that Arthur wrapped his arms around you with barely any thought. Arthur watched your fingers as they trailed through his hair on his chest, never resting somewhere for long but tracing lines from his collar bones to where his beard started on his neck.

“Do you mind?”, you whispered, your fingers resting on a button of his suit.

Arthur subtly shook his head and watched how you unbuttoned one button after another. You had him slip out of the sleeves so the suit could be pulled further down, now exposing his entire abdomen to you.

There was no way he could hide his hitched breath. Your touch tickled pleasantly as your fingers explored his skin. He was enjoying those careful attentions, you'd trace around bruises and old scars, Arthur was focused on how it felt differently, the abused flesh and the scar tissue that had lost sensitivity. He noticed, either for the first time ever, or he had forgotten in the meantime, how ticklish he was on his side, under the ribs. He had no urge to laugh, but his body reacted to your touch differently, squirming when your skin brushed over his. Arthur noticed that you took a liking to those reactions, because he felt the corner of your mouth, which was pressed into his arm as you leaned into him, curl into a smile.

It was quiet. Sometimes the yells of a bar fight could be heard or someone hammering on the piano, but that aside, it was only Jack's silent snores that disturbed the peace.

"Arthur?", you whispered and sat up.

"Mhm?", Arthur looked sleepy. It wasn't even that late yet, but something about the situation was making him sleepy in the best way. You said nothing more. You only put your hand on his cheek, briefly caressing his stubble.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?", you asked.

For a few moments, Arthur's mind went completely blank. He only breathed a shaky "Yeah" and your lips brushed his already.

Instantly, Arthur's hands pulled you in closer. You were close, lips brushing, breathing each other's air. It was all you needed, before both of you finally pressed into each other.

You knew Arthur was gentle, but this sort of tenderness took even you by surprise. And Arthur- well, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. When was the last time he had kissed a woman? No, when was the last time he kissed a woman and felt like his heart was about to explode in his chest. He had craved this ever since the night you spent together. And by the way your hands wandered to his hair, fingers running through his strands, he knew you had wanted it just as much.

It was a soft kiss and both of you looked sort of surprised when it had ended. Arthur sat up slightly and pulled you on his lap, which earned him a happy grin. You started to pepper the man in front of you with kisses. Super light, as if a breeze was brushing his forehead, his cheek, his nose, under his ear, the corner of his lips. You had lost count, stirred on by a blushing Arthur underneath you.

"D-don't ya think that's enough?", Arthur said, kind of trying to dodge your kisses, but not really.

"Nope. You deserve this!", you said, but when you headed for his nose, Arthur managed to turn it into a proper kiss again.

Then you sank on his chest, lying on top of him with his arms wrapped around you.

For Arthur, this was a weird feeling at first. But he loved how your weight pressed him down into the mattress and how your hands always found a piece of his body to caress and tickle. He was embarrassed about how dry his mouth and throat became again, all of a sudden. He was convinced you realized how often he had to swallow and how hesitant he still was to move his hands any further down than the small of your back. Though if you noticed, you were very understanding. You clearly heard his heart hammering in his chest and waited patiently for it to calm down before speaking again.

"Can I tell you something silly?”, you said, lost in thoughts.

"Sure"

"I liked it when the bartender referred to us as family."

"Me too", and his hold on you became ever so tighter.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

@eyelovie @t3rritorial-piss1ngs @daenerysluvrr @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @tem60 @freshoutthewomb2 @itswormtrain @ineedyoubadly @lea-khena @anawkwardartistandgamer @pheesupremacy @tahitiansiguesss @c2ss1e @alyxhasonsocks @kagemaruzest69 @agaritas @lonesome-ranger @joelmillers-gf

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

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selarina · 7 months

Text

AU where Gojo Satoru and you have been co-parenting Megumi and Tsumiki for 2 years now.

Warnings: fluff, reader wears a dress, questionable parenting, protective Megumi Fushiguro, pre-canon

It's a normal evening, Satoru is up, he walks into the living room and his gaze is drawn to the little brat whose gaze is fixed on the television screen — face blank. He knew getting cable was a wrong idea, but he relented once you insisted.

It's a normal evening but suddenly you walk in with your fingers rummaging through your purse's depths, donning a deep blue dress, a stark contrast to your usual muted clothing choices.

Satoru remained uncharacteristically silent, not knowing which question he could start with.

"Why are you dressed up?" A voice pierced the air, and he supposes the little brat who's walking up to you, posed a better question than anything that would have come out of his own mouth.

"I... " You faltered momentarily in your purse-rifling, and a few seconds pass before your attention finally shifts to the boy when you finally seemed to locate your phone.

"I have a date," your lips revealed, a smile tugging at the corners, like you were half-shy about it, half-eager too but Satoru would rather not delve into that.

"He should be here soon. How do I look?" You direct your question into the room when no one says anything.

Gojo has a barrage of jokes and insults dancing at the tip of his tongue, something that he knows you will think about on your ride to the restaurant or whoever this date of yours will be taking you, but alas, he is a simple man sometimes. "You look good," he responds.

Your gaze veered from the little one, traversing to lock onto Satoru. Your head tilted slightly, a bit amused, but mostly confused as though you didn't hear him clearly.

Satoru swallows, "Like a smurf," he adds.

At that, your eyes narrow as you stare at him as you most often do - studying him like he's a bizarre scrunkly-looking creature you'd relish dissecting.

He dons a cocksure smile after that, striding animatedly towards the couch as he casually chimed, "Good luck on your date."

You turn your attention to the little boy who will at least be earnest in his thoughts, "What do you think, Megumi?"

His response is swift. "You look pretty," he says, plainly, like it's a matter of fact.

A genuine smile stretches across your lips, and you have to suppress the impulse to pinch his cheeks – a gesture you've come to learn he's not particularly fond of. Instead, you strode forward as your fingers grazed against his raven locks in a silent acknowledgment of his words.

The doorbell tolled, its chime resonating and cutting through the moment as you found your footsteps receding from the living room and towards the door.

In your absence, Satoru could hear the shuffling and the muted exchanges, before they became clearer as the two of you seemed to walk into the living room.

"I'll just get my scarf. You can wait in the living room," you say as he watches you rush to your room.

Satoru's head inclined subtly, affording him a glimpse of the man who just walked in. His gaze remains on the man for a second before they shift back to the screen ahead of him.

A woman gets shot, and another man gets stabbed seemingly to death. Wow, that was 7 proper stabs. What has Megumi, the 9-year-old, been watching?

Megumi remained where he stood since you left to greet your date, he has been silently appraising the man ever since he walked into the living room.

"Hi," the man greets him, a smile that seemed to stretch up to the bottom of his eyes.

"What are your intentions?" Megumi's inquiry came out like a dagger.

"Uhm, I... " The man faltered, and Megumi decided that the hesitation got him some negative points.

"Well, um, good intentions. I promise," the man attempts under the little boy's growing hardening gaze.

But the moment washes over the man quickly when he watches you walk out of your room, pulling a cream-colored scarf snug from around your shoulders.

An apologetic smile graced your lips, "Sorry about that."

"No," the man clears his throat, his eyes still not leaving Megumi's gaze. Honestly, he was too scared to. "No worries," he managed.

You take in the scene, before you try carefully, "Okay, we'll get going."

Swift as a shadow, Megumi is quickly at your side, his small hand reaching up to tug at the fabric of your dress.

This was something he did quite often, upon your own request. Something about how some words are meant only for each other, and when that's the case you promised to lean down and hear him out.

Honestly, Megumi figures it has something to do with that one time he said something maybe a bit rude to a lady that was looking at you dirty for some reason. He could still feel the weight of the other people's stares as you had to talk down the lady – malevolent arrows flung from a stranger's bow, aimed squarely at you.

He couldn't understand it entirely but he didn't like how you looked after that incident and he has been following this ritual ever since. Tugging at your pants, and your skirts alike.

You seated yourself, careful so you don't flash your date too early into the night.

You meet his eyes, as he speaks, "Don't go."

The query hung in the air. And surprise danced upon the strings of your expression. That's odd, you can't help but think. Megumi's always been independent, letting you live your separate life as your own, but this is certainly new.

"I don't like him," he adds his confession.

"I could like him," is all you could say.

"You could?" He turns, doing one over on the guy who at this point is on his phone scrolling through something. Could be a settings app for all you know, but you appreciate the privacy he created.

"Maybe, I just want to know him."

"What if he attacks you or something?"

"Do you not think I'm strong?"

"You're the strongest person I know," his response comes out immediately to affirm you.

You stare at him, a bit surprised but a smile graces your lips. You'll take it.

"After him," he nudges his arm, gesturing to the man sitting on the couch, and you frown. You'll take it regardless.

"Alright, then do you not think I'll be fine?"

Megumi's frown deepens. "Fine," he concedes

"Okay, I'll bring you some dessert." You gently ruffle his hair, before you stand up.

You're long gone, saying your goodbyes one last time to Satoru’s rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, as Megumi watches the TV play.

Satoru plops himself next to Megumi, making him bounce on the couch just a little before he nudges him as he holds out a packet of cookies.

“You’re not supposed to give me that,” Megumi answers, choosing to side-eye the packet, his eyes keenly trying to focus on the scene in front of him.

“Says who?” He barely hears Satoru’s munched-up words.

Megumi doesn’t answer, still staring at the TV. He does want a cookie, if he’s being honest and he figures if someone’s getting in trouble with you later — it’s going to be the man next to him.

So, he reaches out, stretching out his hand to grab a cookie. He takes a small bite, chewing as he turns his head. He sees the man next to him plop two cookies into his mouth with ease. It annoys him how two whole cookies go into his mouth — all in one go, while the span of one cookie is just so larger than his whole hand.

Megumi swallows before he speaks up, "I spoke to him.” Satoru merely hums in response so he continues, “I scared the shit out of him. He’ll be good."

Megumi reaches over, taking another cookie.

Honestly, Satoru wasn't overly concerned, knowing more than anyone that you could handle such situations on your own. While he could only wish that you didn't have to deal with inconveniences, he had confidence in your safety.

But as Megumi's words start to linger and stain in his head, similar to the blood splatters on the TV, he simply took another sip from his cup before an inevitable smile etches itself onto his face.

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chalkscene · 6 months

Text

tears of themis ⇢ WOULD YOU KISS ME FOR $10 OR THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD FOR $700?

ft. luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen & vyn richter

“i have a question,” you tell LUKE. he’s sat on the couch, playing some new video game which he immediately pauses to acknowledge you. “okay, shoot.” “would you kiss the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars or me for only 10 dollars?” before luke can school his features, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as memories from your childhood flash in his mind. ever since you were kids, you’ve always had the most random trivia and inquiries ready to share with him—his heart swells at the thought of you not having changed at all. going back to your question, luke normally would’ve been deep in thought searching for an answer but he’s always had it in him. so with loving eyes, he meets your expectant ones. “you know i’d kiss you for free.”

ARTEM looks up from his paperwork, paying you his undivided attention now. “come again?” you’re halfway through repeating the question when he cuts you off with a chuckle, “i heard you the first time.” you know he’s just too nice to dismiss you but if you spend another minute thinking about your case, you’re going to lose your mind. “so, what’s your answer?” “i’d kiss you,” he replies without skipping a beat and his lips curl into a smile. you mirror his expression before glancing at the door then back at your boyfriend. “can you kiss me now?” you pout, “i need motivation.” artem shakes his head at your antics but he adores them. he gets up from his seat en route to your side of the office, leaning in to grant your request when celestine barges into the room, “artem- oh.” artem immediately straightens up and clears his throat as he takes a step back from your desk, “yes?” whatever celestine’s come to see him for is soon forgotten, clearly enjoying the sight she walked into. the whole firm knows about your relationship with artem so you remain unfazed—unlike stellis’ notable lawyer whose cheeks are blushing furiously, unable to meet your colleague in the eye.

“missed your pretty face,” MARIUS says in greeting the moment you open the door. half an hour ago, he called to let you know he was on his way to your apartment. now here he is, leaning in for a kiss which is immediately followed by a sigh of pleasure at the feeling of your mouth on his. “you say that as if i’m not your lockscreen,” you tease when you pull away. “i can’t kiss my phone though.” he winks then dips his head lower for another peck but you stop him with a finger over his lips. marius’ eye brows shoot up in surprise, coaxing a giggle out of you. with a cheeky smile, you ask, “would you kiss me for 10 dollars or the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars?” “what kinda question is that?” he scoffs and rolls his eyes at its absurdity before his familiar cockiness once again takes over his features. “miss, i’d pay to kiss you.”

“is something on your mind?” VYN’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts—well, thought. you’ve had this random question plaguing your brain for a while now. “what is it?” vyn asks again. “well…” you begin, trying to form the words before you utter them, “i was curious…” “go on.” “would you kiss me for 10 dollars or the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars?” vyn doesn’t respond right away, blinking at you as he is momentarily dumbfounded. but it’s not long before you sense the gears in his mind turning. you’re not sure if it’s due to the nature of his job as a psychiatrist but vyn is never not thinking—you truly believe he’s actually taking the question seriously. soon enough, he gives you his answer. “my rose,” he says as he tenderly takes your hand in his, “your kisses are priceless.”

#tears of themis #tears of themis imagines #tears of themis x reader #tot x reader #luke pearce #luke x reader #luke pearce x reader #artem wing #artem x reader #artem wing x reader #marius von hagen #marius x reader #marius von hagen x reader #vyn richter #vyn x reader #vyn richter x reader

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sunboki · 6 months

Text

⎯ PAPER PLANES a Kim Seungmin fiction

🛩️ : Kim Seungmin x gn. reader

TROPE. friends to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff fluff fluff galore

WORD COUNT. 1.5k!!

WARNINGS. cursing

AUG'S NOTES. still crazy about this concept💀 … i wrote this in 30 minutes in complete silence.. the demons have possessed me…

SYNOPSIS. Life in the city has never been as interesting as this. More specifically starting the moment your newest neighborhood, Kim Seungmin, moved in next door.

or alternatively :

It was only a matter of time before those paper airplanes turned into something more.

City nights are your greatest escapade and your worst nightmare. When insomnia plagues you awake, it’s easy to turn off all your fans and just listen.

New York isn’t called the city that never sleeps for no reason.

Whether it’s the faint honking of a car or the nearest nightclubs obnoxiously loud stereo, 24 hours a day almost every day of the year this city’s eyes remain open, and in essence, it makes you feel a tad bit better about those sleepless nights.

There’s the buzz of your surroundings, but as for your apartment complex, things are pretty quiet.

Well, you did intentionally choose a very much elderly-occupied residency after all.

Until somebody else showed up, somebody who didn’t explain to you on a morning basis of how they’re deciding on their casket.

And he sings.

Headed back from work up the elevator was when you ran into him for the first time. A smidge taller than yourself, puffy hair hanging over his forehead.

Neither of you talked apart from the courtesy “Which floor are you going to?” followed by an equally courteous “Five”, and you realizing you were both headed to the same place.

Elevators are a dangerous place. Anything could go wrong, technical issues, you end up trapped, weird strangers, and a myriad of unfortunate events waiting to happen. What’s worse? The conversations.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from the decades worth of elevators you’ve been on is that they’re either a place to never stop talking or never talk.

As for this discovered neighbor of yours, you spend a solid thirty seconds deciding the right course of action.

“So where’d you move from?” You pique, watching the numbers atop the door slowly increase.

“South Korea,” He responds, and out of the corner of your eye you notice him glancing at you, hands stuffed in his puffer coat’s pockets.

Mouth opening to speak, you immediately close it, evidently surprised. To think how hellish the flight must’ve been humbled you instantly, not to mention how he carried no accent when conversing.

But before you could ask any more questions the doors open and he wordlessly slips past you, leaving you to silently follow.

“Wait!” Calling out prior to him walking through the door, he stops, turning to you with a confused expression adorning delicate features.

“What’s your name?” You voice another inquiry, hand also fastened onto the doorknob.

He blinks, the action scarily resembling a puppy dog.

“Seungmin. Kim Seungmin.”

Seungmin.

Cute.

“Y/n, nice to meet you.” Nodding politely his way, he returns the gesture, a sudden unwelcoming awkwardness creeping further into your skin the longer you both stand there, staring at each other.

And of course your genius of a mind decides to open its big fat mouth.

“..I guess we’re neighbors, huh.”

No shit sherlock, You internally reprimand, wishing oh so badly to leap out of the nearest window.

Sucking his teeth, Seungmin hums agreeably, and you feel like the stupidest person in the world.

“Yeah well, bye!” Panickedly twisted the knob and racing inside to slam the door behind you, you sink to the ground, clutching your head pathetically.

“Y/n…” You whine, addressing yourself like a lunatic. There’s a heavy sigh, a leaning your head back, thumping against the wooden frame.

“…What the fuck is wrong with you.”

Nonetheless, the night you first heard his voice pitch through gleaming neon signs was one to remember.

Typing manically on your keyboard while a half-empty glass of watered down coffee occupied the space beside you, you squint, scrutinizing that same sentence at least a dozen times before ripping the headphones off your ears and raising up frustratedly.

This essay is definitely earning a rightful spot on your thirteen reasons why list, a close second to your first impression on Seungmin last week.

Stretching your arms above your head, you hear it. An entrancing, melodic tone sifting beneath your cracked window, decorating your bedroom in a decadent assortment of color.

Carefully tiptoeing to pry open the window fully, you crane, cheek pressed against cold glass.

It’s Seungmin. Face tipped to the side, lips halfway parted. You don’t know if he’s focused on something or what, but you know he’s the only thing that matters in this moment.

His vibrato, the way he perfectly slices notes into harmonious rhythm pulls you in like a hummingbird to nectar.

You find yourself aimlessly standing there, rocking back and forth of your heels, savoring the effortlessly sweet relief he fills your exhausted soul with.

Day after day he’d sing, voice never ceasing to calm your senses, as if supernatural, into a lulling drone. No thoughts, just him.

Occasionally it’d be a new tune, one familiar, one not. Over and over and over again you’d routinely wait for him, like a child rushing to see their favorite cartoon.

And as a result, Seungmin became one of your biggest sources of comfort without either of you knowing it.

Today is the day.

Reaching over as far as you can muster with the makeshift paper airplane held tightly, you attempt at reading the wind, trying to decipher the best time to launch this secret weapon of yours.

Well, not really secret (somewhat), and also not a weapon, but you get the picture.

This morning you’d taken tedious measures to ensure your innovative paper airplane note would successfully fly, especially since the note inside was just as innovative.

𝙸 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐. Was what it read, and you thought the compliment was pretty appropriate considering how often you’d admire his mellowed tunes in the eve.

Except, the first one was a fail, then the second one, and a third, and by the forth airplane you had paper-cuts all over your hands and a temper teetering on the brink of defeat.

Hey, at least three people today (almost four) would get a “I like your singing” note today.

Whoosh! Your note flies, and just when you begin to lose hope does it switch trajectories, successfully hitting his balcony’s screen door.

To say you shouted was an understatement. Hell, the entirety of New York likely heard your chanting, yelling, and the entourage of oddly proud noises in between.

Noises of which were quickly muted upon said screen door opening, to where you frantically drop down, peering between the chair’s legs to observe his reaction.

Seungmin glances around repeatedly, curiously, prior to peeling back paper folds.

You inhale sharply.

His eyes graze over the sentence, investigating his surroundings again.

No reaction.

You initially deflate, grumbling to yourself defeatedly.

Until a tiny sliver of hope peeks through dark curtains.

Seungmin smiles.

He covers his mouth (an action you don’t understand but start to considering how dazzlingly bright it is), and laughs. A soft laugh that has his shoulders shaking, corner of his eyes wrinkling into charming crescent moons.

You swear there’s a ring of sparkling light outlining him, like something out of a K-Drama.

His smile could (and should) win an award, you’re convinced.

And just like that he disappears back into his apartment, and you chant a nonstop “Oh my god!” a good thirty-six times, unable to contain the feather-light feeling spreading from your fingertips to the very tip of your toes.

Cute. Kim Seungmin was so, so cute.

From the sheepish grins he gives you each time he’s seen you since, you have a hunch he knows it was you who sent the note, but you choose to act oblivious.

Oblivious, before you received a note of your own.

Of course, Kim Seungmin’s paper airplane is perfect, aerodynamic and probably arrived on the first throw unlike your consecutive sacrifices.

Slowly shuffling open the response, you peek through hesitant fingers, slapping a hand over your gaping mouth upon witnessing his obviously perfect handwriting.

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 :) , It reads. Something so mundane and proper there’s no reason you should be losing your mind, but you are, and the rattling of your heartbeat serves the best explanation.

You make sure to hang the note up afterward, right above your laptop.

So over the next few days, the both of you become more daring, more adventurous. Two paper airplanes turn into four, four to eight, eight to eleven. By now there’s not enough room to hang all of them up.

Meaningless conversations. Asking about dinner plans, what you’re currently doing, what your favorite hobbies are, favorite songs. But yet, they mean so much to you.

Your own, childish way of communicating even though the mature, adult reply would be to knock on his door.

Although, he seems to love it as much as you do.

𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? Is scribbled on the airplane he’d sent a few minutes ago.

𝙽𝚘, 𝚠𝚑𝚢? You write quickly onto one, hands nimbly constructing the shape after sending so many. Routine.

Returning to stirring the pot of boiling water in front of you, a familiar tap alerts you, padding over to grasp his letter.

Strangely, a part of you grows more and more excited, plopping down into your chair to gradually take apart his craftsmanship.

Your legs move before you can even register your own feelings, scrambling outside.

Seungmin’s there, breathtaking smile as brilliant as ever despite such dim lighting.

There’s no need to admit you’ve been sending them now. Especially not from the way he gazed at you, the words inscribed on that paper airplane.

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

He bites back an even bigger grin, cheeks dusting rosy pink from the cold air.

Yes.

Absolutely yes.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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nyxiswrites1200 · 5 months

Note

Could you maybe do a guilty pleasure Sebastian (or Elliot) post? I’m not sure I have any specific ideas in mind. I really like slight possessiveness (not outright yandere) so maybe something like whoever you chose getting jealous of another bachelor/ette getting attention from the farmer and being a bit possessive of them? Lots of “you’re mine and I hope you know it” and giving hickies to mark territory type stuff. I also would like you to just have fun with it, you know? I’d like you to enjoy the writing process too, I know how much it sucks to not have ideas to write. Indulge yourself :)

"𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔"

AAAAA I didn't expect someone to respond so fast?? But I literally love this <33 Indulge I will, love. I hope you enjoy it <3

----

Sebastian x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, OOC(??), Jealousy, Possessive bf, Established Relationship, Oral sex, PDA, Marking/Hickeys, Praise, Aftercare

Mentions: Reader enjoying coffee/hot chocolate, Sam (Stardew), drinking/alcohol, Use of nicknames (Precious, Sebby)

AO3 Link

----

Sebastian was always an amazing lover. Ever since you two started dating in Pelican Town, he was rough around the edges at first, but that seemed to be just your thing.

The saloon was bustling with activity tonight. You and Sam were playing pool in the corner while Sebastian refilled his drink. Sam had missed the ball by a long shot, tripping onto the pool table. You couldn't help but laugh as you went over and helped him compose himself.

Sam chuckled in response to his idiocy and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. The interaction was so simple and innocent, yet it had Sebastian overtaken with a burning sense of jealousy from across the bar. Maybe it wouldn't bother him so much if you weren't so open and nice with Sam, even if he is his best friend.

When Sebastian returned, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist as he kissed you deeply. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue as he searched your mouth. You gasped softly into his mouth, and his grip on your waist tightened. When he finally pulled away for a breath, you spoke with a pant. “What was that for-” you asked curiously, but Sebastian just shrugs.

The night went on, and Sebastian seemed more aloof than usual, which had you concerned. Along with the passing glares and the clingy antics. Eventually, everyone was starting to head home for the night. Despite Sebastian's feelings, he still took your hand as you two began to walk back home.

“Sebby, what's wrong with you?” You ask, genuinely concerned. “Mm…you know you belong to me, right?” He rasps as he stops walking and drags you close to him. Chest to chest as he meets your gaze.

Oh so that's what this was, he was jealous.

“Ah- of course, I'm all yours” you respond reassuringly, but it was also completely honest.

Sebastian cracked a bit of a smile at that, and it seemed to do him in until you two made it back home. He wasn't much for public inquiries and while your words did mean something. He needed a different type of relief from this situation.

As soon as the door shut behind you both, Sebastian dropped onto the couch and pulled you into his lap.

“Sebby-” you tried to inquire, but were cut off by a small gasp as he began kissing your neck, his hands firmly holding your hips.

“Why you gotta be so fucking charming, huh?” He growled as he pulled you in closer. He began roughly sucking on your neck as he groaned in content.

“What are you talking about?” You struggle to get out as you tangle your hands in his messy hair. But you knew how jealous he got. How possessive he was over you—he wanted the most of your attention.

“Sam. Always being so fucking nice to everyone and letting him touch you…” he sighed against your neck, his lips moving to another spot. “Guess I'm gonna have to mark this pretty neck as mine; mark you as mine.” He rasped.

Sebastian sucked on your neck, leaving kisses and hickeys in the wake of his lips. You didn't mind at all. If anything, his possessive attitude had you grinding your hips into his crotch. Seeing the obvious tent start to form in his pants.

“Yes, please baby~ I'm all yours, you know that” you reassure as a moan leaves your lips. “Good” he responds softly.

“On your knees, my precious” he asks rather gently. You slide off his lap and onto the floor, sitting on your knees in front of him. You lay your head on his thigh as you reach and free his aching cock from its restraints.

“So good for me, all fucking mine” he says, placing a hand on the back of your head as he urges you to fill your mouth with him. You have no problems with it.

You take all of him down your throat with a gag, his long, pretty length with a distinct vein down the underside. It had you gagging already.

You began sucking on his cock, drool slipping down his shaft and onto his balls as you moaned onto him.

Sebastian let out moans and grunts; eventually, he pushed your head down and held you there. “So good for me, choking on my cock. You belong to me, you're my precious little thing and I won't let anyone else have you.” he held the back of your head as he began fucking into your mouth, using you to get himself off.

You felt tears threaten to spill from the feeling of gagging on him, but a soothing rub to the back of your head reassured you from his end.

“Don't cry, precious. Just showing this pretty mouth who it belongs to.”

That sentence alone had your tight and aroused hole clenching around nothing in anticipation. A part of you wishes he'd just bent you over on the pool table in the saloon and fucked you senseless. Oh god, your thoughts were awful.

It doesn't take long for Sebastian to become a moaning mess, his cock twitching as he gets close to release.

He pulls out of your mouth, and you lick up the underside of his cock as you look up at him. “Fuck…finish me off, let me cum on your face. Show you who you belong to” he groans.

You wrap your hand around his cock as you continue to edge him closer to his release. Your tongue slips over that prominent vein again, causing your boyfriend to moan.

“I'm gonna cum, precious-” he groans before a deep moan leaves him as he cums onto your face. You swallow what you can manage.

Sebastian panted as he looked down at you. Neck covering his purple-ish marks, your face splattered with his cum, and eyes teary from him fucking your throat.

“Good” he praised “I love you, precious” he smiled as he cupped your cheek “I love you too” you smiled.

Sebastian took extra care to bathe with you and make you coffee/hot chocolate in the morning. Kissing you softly as he praised you. You definitely don't mind being his.

#fanfic writer #archive of our own #reader insert #gender neutral insert #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley x reader #stardew fic #sebastian stardew valley #sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian #sebastian x farmer #gender neutral reader #stardew valley fic #possessive #jealousy #praise #spicy writer #ask response #possessive Sebastian

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ozzgin · 9 months

Note

Hi, i noticed you were taking requests so i wanted to know if you could make something with a tall reader and i thinking REALLY tall reader 😅 ( like Jack Hanma tall). However reader as a shy and kind personality. I thought of this after seeing " Tall girl" on Netflix 🤣. I was thinking you could write about reader first meeting and a small bit of dating with several Baki AU man cause I really think Hanayama and Jack would love a girl like this.

Of course you can choose to make this with yanderes if you want or to change a bit from my request so you can make something you're confortable to write about.

Thanks for reading this, i hope you'll have a good day, bye.

How exciting, my very first request here! Thank you for the suggestion, I’m loving the idea.

Baki Characters x Tall Reader Headcanons

Featuring Jack Hanma, Kaoru Hanayama, Baki Hanma and Pickle! And a VERY tall reader.

Jack Hanma

Jack is only interested in becoming stronger and, as he often likes to mention, has no time for mundane pleasures like women.

It just so happened that (Y/N) was getting her regular checkup at the time Jack was discharged from his last bone lengthening surgery. You accidentally bumped into him in the hospital halls and immediately apologized. Jack would have responded with his usual scowl if he didn’t end up speechless and baffled at the fact he was looking someone right in the eyes.

He wasn’t used to the feeling of encountering someone of the same height as him. He immediately regretted acting so silly and became somewhat flustered, attempting to mutter some generic scolding like “Just be more careful next time”.

You were beaming at the fact there’s someone as tall as you out there. Jack, on the other hand, was increasingly irritated by the knot forming in his stomach upon seeing your wide smile.

Truly exasperating. He could be training right now and instead he’s awkwardly standing in front of a restaurant. He’s gritting his teeth in annoyance, but his jaw instantly relaxes when he hears your voice greeting him.

He starts noticing that outings with you result in him being more focused and relaxed afterwards. You seem to have a calming effect on him. Most people are, in fact, very surprised to see you two together. Someone as stubborn and intense as Jack is now accompanied by a timid, welcoming woman.

A certain fulfillment begins to make its way into his heart. If he’s going to fall for a woman, it should be someone like you. No, it HAS to be you. You’re making him a better man and ground him when he’s close to losing sight of what’s ahead.

He would absolutely never show it, but Jack loves entering the fighting arena knowing that you’re right behind, watching him. It’s the motivation he never knew he needed.

Kaoru Hanayama

Hanayama noticed you were having trouble with some street hooligans and quietly interfered to shoo them away. He was planning to leave the same way, without any further words, but he couldn’t help his curiosity.

He found it rather amusing that someone as imposing as you is, in fact, terribly shy. He’d wondered if you’re a foreigner given he’s never seen another girl like you. After his polite inquiries, he came to the realization that he finds your company extremely pleasant.

The first few dates were a challenge on whose turn it is to break the silence, with Hanayama’s introverted nature and your initial sheepishness leading to clumsy but cute interactions. Later, Hanayama was surprised to hear himself talking more than usual, giving you glimpses of his life. He was prepared to be a faithful, stoic listener, yet the roles often switched and he’d find himself completely open with you.

Perhaps it’s your warmth that invited him to be this raw and vulnerable, or your noble sincerity. Either way, he is grateful that you’ve allowed such intimacy to develop between the two of you.

Reputation is vital in the yakuza world, which is why Hanayama always strives to impress friends and foes alike. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner to stand by his side. He’s absolutely thrilled to introduce you as his, someone of his stature.

If you’re ever feeling insecure about your height, he will remind you to stand proud as the soon-to-be wife of the family head. Everyone already refers to you as Ane-san and Hanayama demands that you’re treated with the utmost respect.

Baki Hanma

The moment the young boy laid his eyes on you, his mouth hung out in amazement and he couldn’t help but exclaim his admiration. Only afterwards had he realized his rudeness and profusely apologized, with his blush extending all the way to his ears. Hopefully he hadn’t offended you in any way. You reassuring him with a friendly smile that you appreciate his compliment is what sealed the deal for him.

While your height caught Baki’s attention, it’s your personality that caused him to become entirely infatuated. You’re so kind and caring and he finds himself helplessly addicted to your affection.

He doesn’t mind the height difference and will constantly shower you with compliments, just in case you ever doubt yourself. Someone on the street giving the two of you funny looks? Baki will excuse himself for 5 minutes and will return with reddened knuckles. Nothing to worry about.

Even though you’re much taller, he likes to remind you that you’re still his precious darling. He loves to pick you up and carry you around like a princess. If he’s feeling cheeky he might tease you like this in public until you’re a blushing mess.

Pickle

Pickle immediately noticed you among the spectators to his fights. He was struck with a faint familiarity, a female human closer to what he would’ve expected to see back in his time.

He’s intrigued and will do everything he can to see you again. Perhaps you’d even allow him to be your mate!

He loves that you’re shy and soft spoken and enjoys lazing with his head in your lap, listening to your voice. It calms him down and helps him sleep.

He doesn’t understand that your height is unusual and you might sometimes be self-conscious about it. To him, you look more normal than all those tiny humans and he cherishes your appearance.

You’re the perfect height for him to rest his chin on your head. He’ll often hug you from behind and just stand like that for as long as possible, purring lightly.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki x reader #jack hanma #kaoru hanayama #jack hanma x reader #pickle baki #kaoru hanayama x reader

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written-with-blue-ink · 1 month

Note

Good morning, Blue. Since Gaming requests are on hold until the poll ends, how about I start with a Cyno request? Please kindly consider this Cyno request: Based on Cyno's 'Least Favorite Food' voiceline about his desert rations. The other Matras start noticing Cyno eating a pinkish jelly from a jar after mealtimes. Upon inquiry, they find out it was a jar of Zaytun Peach jelly you, the General's wife, made after he made a comment on how tasteless the rations were.

Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests.

Hey hon! Finally got to one of your requests! I hope you enjoy it!

Cyno X GN/Fem Reader

Sweet as Sugar

“Have you seen the General Mahamatra,” one of the newer guards asked, hands still reached out to absorb the warmth of the fire.

“No, he left sometime after dinner, he’s been doing that a lot more lately than normal,” the other responded. “He didn’t use to do this, I think something might be up? I mean, this person we’re hunting was in the same Darshan and similar year as the General… Maybe they were friends and this is upsetting him?”

The newer member nodded, looking at the direction General Cyno went before pulling himself up. “I’m gonna go looking for him. Feel free to stay here and tend the fire.”

The other nodded, watching the other walk off towards the nearby stones before turning his attention back to feeding the flames.

“General Mahamatra Cyno,” he called out, turning the corner as he let his fingers run against the aged stone. “Are you al…”

The new scout wasn’t really sure what to expect, he most certainly wasn’t expecting to find sitting in a corner General Mahamatra Cyno, one of the most terrifying men in Sumeru, huddled around a jar and mid-putting a spoonful of pinkish preservatives in his mouth. Their eyes met, catching them both off guard before the newbie said, “Yeah… I’m just gonna go now…”

- A few days prior -

“What’s wrong?” The voice rang in his ears and a warm hand reached across the dining room table and placed on his. Her hands were warm and just the placement on his made him melt.

“Nothing really,” he looked into your eyes as he grasped your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m just gonna miss you and your cooking on this upcoming mission.”

He looked into your eyes as he watched them narrow in the way you did as you thought, shining as gears turned in your head. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he continued, squeezing your hand before returning to the meal.

- - -

Cyno didn’t normally sleep in but he would the day before he had to go on another mission. Rest was needed for these long journeys and his back felt better on your shared bed than on the sleeping mats they used, plus the extra time with you was exactly what he wanted.

He felt the sun rest on his skin as he reached out but felt nothing there. He opened his eyes, the world partially blurry, to see no one next to him, an empty half of the bed. He pulled himself out of the covers, feet placed on the floor, and walked up to the door. As he pulled the food open, the smell of sweetened and stewed fruits hit his nose.

He walked down the hall, eyes looking to the kitchen as he watched you stirring a pot and humming to yourself. Hips swaying side to side in rhythm to the spoon’s movements. He didn’t say anything, walking past you and starting the water to do the dishes.

“What are you doing out of bed,” you question, not even looking towards him as you stir the concoction in the pot, “go rest and enjoy your day off.”

“I am enjoying myself; I’m with you,” he says, scrubbing the few dirty dishes in the sink. “What about you? Why aren’t you in bed?”

You hum, lifting up the spoon and inspecting the pink mixture. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said last night, about missing my food. I decided I would make something for you.”

Walking over, you lift the spoon towards his lips which he happily takes. The sugary fruits were stewed and dissolved in his mouth with minimal effort; releasing all the tension from his shoulders as he melted. “Zaytun peach preserves. I’ll make something to accompany them, I’m just not sure what yet…”

His eyes watched you in admiration. Stepping closer, he stretched upwards and placed his lips on yours. The taste of sugar was still in his mouth as he placed his hand on your forearm. As the two of you released, you couldn’t help but quip, “Well, at least I know I added enough sugar!”

#genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #cyno x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact #general mahamatra #cyno imagines #cyno genshin impact #cyno x gn reader #cyno x fem reader #cyno #cyno x you #cyno x y/n #cyno fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin cyno #sumeru

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00-hawkboi-00 · 10 months

Text

Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part One

Paring; König x m!reader

Word count; ~6k

Warnings; uhmm.. violence and a whole lotta google translate

(this is my first time using this platform for fics, so please bear with me-)

--- "far from home" ---

You were not a fan of public spaces. Or people in general. You were especially not a fan of overcrowded, rowdy bars - with slippery bodies pressed so close together you could barely take a breath without inhaling someone else's CO2.

You found slight reprieve at the counter, seated farthest from the door and chin propped up on your gloved palm, watching the bartender race around mixing drinks and chatting politely with customers who definitely didn't deserve her kindness. It was a little entertaining watching the woman balance glasses while simultaneously putting on a show for her drunk viewers.

You didn't like being in public, but the bartender in front of you made it a little more worth your while. Besides, you were here for a reason. You had a job to do.

A job that should have arrived almost half an hour ago. They were late, typical. You had expected this; he always pinged you the location for drop-off hours before the person arrived. In fact, you had specifically chosen to wait a good few hours after the initial message for this very reason.

You still ended up being early.

A few more minutes passed before you felt a shift in the atmosphere of the room. Felt the searching eyes land on you, burning a hole through the side of your masked face. You resist the urge to turn around and look for them, knowing they would be by your side soon enough.

A brief moment later - probably the person trying to maneuver through the sea of sweaty bodies - an inconspicuous person seated themselves to your left, dressed in civilian clothes with nothing but a darkly colored medical mask to obscure their identity. They gave a bright smile to the woman behind the counter and waved off her inquiry for a drink.

"So," They began, "how's the weather back home?"

As they spoke, they kept their focus floating around the stuffy room. Expression relaxed and elbows planted firmly on the wooden surface of the bar.

"Bright and sunny." You reply simply, letting the other person know you are alone. That you haven't been followed, your identity compromised - that the last mission had gone well.

"No overcast?"

"None." Your voice is pitched low, almost gravelly as you respond. You trail your gloved fingers along the lip of your own, untouched glass, waiting for whatever this person has in store for you.

"I see," their tone shifts, still keeping on that laid-back persona, to something more professional before they slip into your native tongue.

"Na túto misiu cestujete do zahraničia. Niekde pozdĺž americko-mexickej hranice."

"Dosť ďaleko od domácej základne, nie?"

"Áno."

"A ona mi verí, že sa o to postarám?"

They glance over at you briefly, before their eyes flicker away again.

"Of course."

You nod, pulling out enough cash to cover the drink and placing it on the counter. Moving to stand, you take your drink with you.

Taking a clumsy step forward, as if you had drunk enough to kill a small deer, you stumble into the person sitting beside you. Spilling the contents of the glass all over the front of their shirt in the process.

"Shit!" You exclaim, reaching over to grab a handful of napkins. You begin frantically pressing the thin papers to the person's clothes, muttering apologies under your breath.

"I'm so sorry- really, I am! It was an accident-" you continue to ramble, adding an exaggerated slur to your words as you speak. Their hands reach down to assist you in your frantic movements, the chaos in which your two's hands are moving distracting from the moment the other person slips a small, folded paper into your jacket sleeve.

Once you feel the press of the note against your wrist you pull away, tucking it into your pocket. The glare in their eyes speaks volumes as you back away, even as they mutter a quick;

"It's fine."

Was it necessary? Absolutely not. Was it a delight to see the person splutter and tug the drenched fabric away from their skin as you slunk away into the crowd? Yes, yes it was.

You reach the exit and pull out the door, mentally laughing to yourself at the look on their face before you'd left. Payback for making you wait so damn long. You draw in a deep breath, the air chilly even through the cloth of your mask. It was refreshing, a breath of fresh air after having been stuck in that filthy establishment for a little over an hour.

When you decide you've walked far enough, fingers reach into your pocket. Your pace doesn't falter, continuing at a lazy waltz as you unfold it with one hand. A car's headlights light up the paper as it passes by, illuminating the digits on the note when you bring it up to inspect it.

Coordinates, lovely. Because your handler was nothing if not a fan of the dramatics.

27.5036° N, 99.5076° W

You huff a small sigh, rolling your eyes before pocketing the paper once again. Welp, better start moving.

You get dropped off a few miles south of the city, a little ways away from the river, because apparently flying a helicopter into the heart of it would be 'too suspicious'. Meaning you'd now have to walk through muggy plains for a good hour or two.

Not even halfway out the heli and you were already mourning the loss of the freezing tundra that is your home base. You sling your duffle bag over your shoulder, not bothering to look back at the pilot who brought you into the pit of hell.

The Heli takes off not even a moment after, leaving you completely alone. With a drawn-out sigh and a roll of your eyes, you begin the long trek through this godforsaken hellscape.

The sun is just above the horizon when you arrive at the outskirts of the - now that you're here - fairly large city. Peaking over the edge of the small hill you mentally groan. People.

Not only did your handler send you across the fucking northern Atlantic ocean, but she sent you into one of the most populated cities along the damn border!

When the sun finally begins to set - a pretty mix of purples and orangish hues as the ball of fire disappears over the horizon - you pick up your bag once again and take off down the hill, carefully maneuvering over the uneven ground.

After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly through the streets bordering the city, you manage to find a cheap, sketchy-looking residence for shelter. All it takes is a couple of bills, some broken Spanish, and a fake identity and you're walking up a creaky flight of stairs to your home away from home for the foreseeable future.

Upon twisting the key into the door and hearing that satisfying click sound, you push the door open slowly. Your eyes flicker around the room for a minute, scoping out the space for anything sticking out of place, before you finally step in. Shutting and bolting the flimsy door quietly behind you.

In the room lies a small bed frame, a thin mattress on top, and a worn wooden side table next to it - pushed up against the far left corner. There's a tiny window fixed into the center of the wall, to the right of the bed. Pushed up against the opposite wall is a dusty, wooden dresser. A dirty mirror dangling above it. Farthest to the left of the room is a half bathroom, the door propped open. This allows you to see almost the entire interior from where you stand near the entrance of the room.

You heave the duffle off your shoulder and onto the dresser, taking out a small bottle and then leaving it there as you turn to make your way to the bathroom. It wasn't exactly the most hygienic, but splashing your face with water and using the last bit of your cheap shampoo to clean the sweat out of your hair was as good as it was going to get. After that you exit the tiny room, heading straight for the lumpy mattress near the door.

You grab the fleece blanket from your bag on the way over, discarding the sheets already wrapped on the bed onto the floor - there's no telling what caused those colorful stains, and you weren't too keen on finding out. You place the blanket on top of the now bare mattress, as you figure the heat of the air would keep you warm enough as you sleep. You remove your shirt, balling it up and using it as a pillow as you get comfortable.

As you lay there, eyes flicking around the dark, unfamiliar room, your stomach churns harshly. It had been a while since your last meal, but you weren't exactly eager to fix that problem. Nor did you really have the means to at the moment.

Choosing to ignore the insistent rumbling of your stomach, you nuzzle your face into your makeshift pillow and close your eyes. It takes a little while, but after laying there for an extended period of time, with nothing else to occupy your mind, you eventually drift into a light slumber.

— POV: König —

Capture. No kill.

Those are his orders - and the rest of the team, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is the very real man - he'd overhead Soap talking to Gaz, wondering if the fabled fool even existed - walking dangerously close to a frail woman under the cover of a thick, noisy crowd.

They'd gotten tipped off to your location by an anonymous caller. Something about you being the infamous man the crew had been hunting these past few years - leaving mutilated bodies in your wake. You didn't discriminate against your targets, but that wasn't what made you so dangerous. No, it was the fact that they didn't know why you killed.

If it wasn't for the sporadic timeline in which you did it, and that your targets weren't specific to a certain city or country - added to the fact that the majority of your killings were either political leaders, or their affiliates (which wasn't limited to the people in power, but included their wives and children as well) - you wouldn't even be on their radar. You would've just been another psychotic serial killer.

In their eyes, you were simply another terrorist. One with no known rhyme or reason for your methods; unpredictable. And that was far more dangerous than your typical run-of-the-mill terrorist. At least they have - no matter how separated from reality - ideals and morals. At least they were predictable.

You had had them chasing your tail going on for two years straight now, leaving them to pick up your breadcrumbs and discover the carnage you left behind.

This all came to a close when one random Friday afternoon they got a hit on where you'd be headed next through the way of a call to Laswell's office landline. They, of course, had wondered just how exactly the man on the other line had known your location - and if the intel was even authentic - but the call had cut to dead air before they could interrogate him. Besides, if this was a real tip, it was far too good to pass up.

And, after a lengthy flight, now they were here. Watching. Waiting. For anything. For you to make a move, for you to materialize from what seemed like thin air. Gaz had had the hunch that, though you would try to blend in, you would be easy to pick out of the crowd. He, on the drive here, had reasoned that though someone like you was likely a master at his craft - there had to be a fault somewhere.

Why else would all of your kills take place under the blanket of the night? It clearly wasn't just to avoid witnesses or catch your victims off guard. Your kills showed great strength, and the places where you left the bodies weren't always exactly… hidden.

Gaz had drawn the conclusion that you must just not be a people person, or that there was something about high-traffic areas that put you on edge. König couldn't fault you for that, he too - as well as some of the others - wasn't exactly the most sociable either and didn't blend well with civilians. You, however, he had said that you would stick out like a sore thumb. Unable to hide the tension in your body, or the urge to fidget with whatever you could get your hands on.

He was right. Here you were; tapping the tips of your left fingers against your thumb incessantly and jaw clenched so tight, König was sure it would snap.

"Got him." Soap spoke into his ear, the man himself being a good few meters ahead of you - tucked away near an alley, leaning up against an old brick wall. The others, after a short moment of silence, muttered their affirmation. Five people had their eyes on you, and yet you seemed to be so blissfully unaware. Too caught up in your anxieties to notice the men stationed on every side of you, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

König watches as the old lady stumbles into you, watches as you scramble to pick up the items that had tumbled out of her shaky arms from the impact. They wait. Wait for your next movement. Wait for you to get away from so many innocent civilians, to the thinner part of the herd.

The moment comes far too soon, you hurriedly shove the fallen objects back into her hands, muttering what is most likely an apology under your breath. After that you look up, eyes flickering around the exposed area you seem to have found yourself in - and that's when it happens. Your icy glare connects with his own, unwavering stare, and your body seizes up.

"Spotted." He grunts out, shifting off of the large crate he had been perched against to disguise his height. "Target headed your way Soap-"

He barely gets the Scots name out, barely has the time to lift his chin to keep his eyes steely on you before the screaming starts. König goes flying backward at the strength of the blast, catching himself at the last minute, inches from getting up close and personal with the clay underfoot.

He gets a glimpse of you - knocked off your own balance and struggling to right your footing - before the cloud of dust and smoke becomes too thick, obscuring you from view.

— —

You wake up before the sun does, covered in a thin layer of cold sweat despite the heat of the room and feeling more tired than you were the day before. The first thing you do is stumble off the bed and to the duffle bag you had left open on the dresser last night. You pull out a change of clothes - a thin t-shirt and a pair of well-worn pants - then zip it back up.

After you change into the new clothing and roll up the dirty, used ones to stuff into the far corner of your bag - you lift the duffle, carrying it over to the bed to tuck it underneath. With nothing else to do but get on with your day, you leave. Making sure you lock the damn thing behind you. You didn't want any unwanted visitors going through your shit, after all.

The sun has risen now and it's time to find out just what your handler sent you out here for. It better be worth it - this damn heat made you want to tear your skin off.

You travel the outskirts of the city as long as you can, trying your best to ignore the crowd of people milling about and just get what you came here for. Hopefully, the what in question would make its appearance soon enough.

You've never been… good at blending in with your surroundings. Sure, you could manage yourself - you were a professional, after all. But being around so many unknowns made you uneasy. A feeling you're certain even the most socially unaware of the crowd could pick up on.

Eventually, though, you have to make a right and dive into the busy streets. Your phone pings in your pocket, letting you know you're getting closer to your destination. You pass by an ungodly amount of bars - seriously, why are there so many? - on your way. Now and again there's a tiny buzz from your phone, stronger as you inch closer to the designated drop-off. Or, at least you think it's a drop-off? What else could it be? There are only so many possibilities in the midst of a populated city.

Thankfully, the what makes its entrance in the form of a suspicious old lady walking your way. Well, suspicious to you. Not as much to the other people around you, as they continue about their morning without even sparing her a glance.

You adjust your mask as she approaches, trying your damn hardest to seem unaware of the person currently beelining her way towards you. A small huff of breath escapes you at the impact, the lady's tiny body carrying much more weight behind it than you had assumed it would, various fruits and other small items coming crashing to the ground.

You scramble to retrieve the fallen objects, spotting another small folded paper in the mix.

"Mis disculpas, señora." You mutter under your breath, silently wishing you'd paid more attention when learning this particular language (at the time you hadn't considered the possibility that you'd ever use this specific dialect).

"No te vi allí." You speak again, the woman uttering her own exaggerated apologies - arms flailing about. Holding most of the objects in your hands, you begin to shove them into her arms; eyes pinpointed on one small white square, getting closer to it with every item you pick up.

When your fingers wrap around the flimsy paper you stand up, passing the last few things - seriously, how did this woman carry so damn much? - to her you lift your head, scoping out your surroundings.

It went against your training, but fuck training right now- because you were pretty damn sure you were being watched, a prickly feeling at the base of your skull. Slipping the folded paper into your pocket, you turn around. You spot them instantly, locking eyes with a giant, blue-eyed man. His eyes are all you see. And they are all you need to see before you're flipping back around and speeding up to a fast-paced walk.

You only get a few steps away before you're launched sideways; crashing shoulder-first into a brick wall. You feel the distinct movement of bone dislodging from its rightful place, and you don't have to look down to know it's likely dislocated. Teeth dig into the soft flesh under your mask, tasting metal as you fight to suppress the scream building in your throat.

You have to get out of here. You need to get back to that damn room and call your fucking handler before these men have the chance to get their grubby hands on you.

You push off the wall, blinking in an attempt to clear the dust out of your eyes. You stumble a bit, nearly toppling over an unmoving body at your feet, but quickly right yourself. Boots hit the muddy ground with reckless abandon, not caring about the sound you're making any more - not worried about being seen as out of place.

Survive. That's the only thing on your mind. Survive and make it to your room. Make it to your room so you can scream bloody murder at your boss. Survive, make it to your room, cuss out your handler, and make it back to the tundra that is your home. You can do that.

You can do that.

You continue running, hand clutching at your injured shoulder to hold it in place. You loop around buildings, twisting and turning every which way as you try to regain your bearings - to find a way out of this maze of alleys. You come to a stop at a dead end, a tall wire fence separating you from the freedom you oh so desperately crave.

Your breath comes out in sharp bursts from your nose, heating up under your mask to the point it has you contemplating ripping the damn thing off. This is compromised by tugging off your gloves and shoving them into a pocket. You're snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of gravel crunching behind you.

You flip around, eyes wide as you catch sight of the man standing behind you. He's not too tall, plainly built, and covered head to toe in makeshift gear. You consider just jumping the damn fence despite the burning in your arm, and not dealing with this guy at all. Before you can decide that, the man is charging at you - screaming out vile half-Spanish-half-English words as he does so.

You don't have time to dodge, too caught up in your head, and the next moment there's a searing pain in your already wounded shoulder. You look up, teeth clenched, glaring daggers at the man. You pull the throwing knife out of your flesh, preparing for when he finally reaches you.

The full force of his weight knocks you off balance, and you both come careening to the clay-packed ground. You manage to roll before that happens, the man beneath you taking most of the impact. You don't have time to stew in your minor victory before he's thrusting another knife at you - this one nicking you in the face, blood welling up and dripping into your eye.

You fight to stay on top, reaching for your own blade that lays tucked away in your civilian outfit - the one you pulled out having gotten lost in the brunt of the attack. Your struggling provides the man with the opportunity to flip you two over, cursing at you and wrestling against your waning strength. Your arm gives in, and he pins it above your head, still shouting directly into your face.

He reaches back and at the same time he drives back down to land another strike on you, you managed to wrangle your knife free. Your hand flies through the air, coming to rest in the juncture between his neck and shoulder at the same time he wedges the blade into the muscle of your thigh.

You pull the weapon out, blood already bubbling to the surface and spilling out, and thrust back in. Over and over again until his grip on his knife loosens, no longer digging the damn thing into your poor thigh, and his body goes limp. You scramble to push him off before you are crushed by his weight, crawling away backward on your hands.

You take a moment to catch your breath, chest heaving with the effort to get as much oxygen into your lungs as possible. After sitting there for a brief second longer, you remember the man you had seen at the city square, and you're hit with another burst of adrenaline.

You clamber to your feet, planting them firmly on the ground a little bit apart to stabilize yourself. Taking another deep breath you look up at the looming fence. Fuck it, you decide, limping over to it.

You struggle to gain any sort of footing at first, but using the pile of crates in the far right corner you manage to scramble halfway up the wire fence before you have to rely on pure upper body strength - not that you have much of that at the moment - to heave yourself up. By some miracle, you succeed. Now sitting unbalanced at the top, you squeeze your eyes shut and bite down on your tongue.

Flinging yourself over the edge, you brace for the impact - aiming to spread the force throughout your entire body instead of breaking your legs. No amount of bracing could prepare you for the mind-numbing pain of your feet hitting the ground - shooting up into your thighs and cutting through your stab wound. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a muffled cry tearing through your throat.

Your legs tremble, threatening to give out beneath you. Cracking open your eyes you take in your surroundings. You know this place. You're close. So close.

You leave bloody footprints on the stairs as you climb them, bracing yourself heavily on the railing. When you reach the top you're gasping for air, hands fumbling with the key before you insert it in the lock - turning it sharply to the right. You nearly vocalize your relief when the door clicks open, granting you access to the dingy room.

You hurry over to the bed, collecting your blanket, and pulling out the duffle bag from beneath the bed. Unzipping the bag you shove the blanket inside, zipping it back up just as fast. You drop your weight onto the now bare mattress, sitting down as you rush to retrieve your phone from your left pocket.

Blood has seeped out of your wound and through your pants, running down your leg and dripping onto the floor. You ignore it, crimson-stained hands tapping ferociously at the cracked screen of your cell. Somehow managing to type in your handler's number, you wait for her to pick up.

When she does, you're furious - shouting unintelligible expletives and pressing the device close to your ear.

"WHAT THE FUCK, VIK?" You finally find the ability to say more than string after string of curses and threats.

"Calm down, soldier." She speaks, voice low and frustratingly relaxed.

"Calm down!? CALM DOWN!?!?" You yell, blood thrumming in your ears. "Don't tell me to calm down, dammit. I just got blown up, then fucking ran down and stabbed. You need to pull me out of here- I need to get out of here."

"Did you get the target already?"

"Target? Are you even hearing me!? I'm bleeding out in this filthy rundown complex, and you're talking about the fucking target?"

"What do you want me to do about it, Myš?"

"What do I-" you cut yourself off with a disbelieving snort. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Get. Me. Out. Of. Here."

She sighs on the other line, the sound of that damn office chair of hers squeaking in the background. "No can do, soldier. You have a job to do, do it."

"Job? You cannot be serious-" The line goes dead, and you see red.

"She did not just hang up on me." You grit out, grip on the phone tightening. She did.

You seeth, and - not your brightest moment if you're being honest -, in a fit of rage you wrench back your arm before swinging it forward. The phone goes shooting out from your hand, smashing to pieces against the wall to the right of the bathroom door.

You take a minute to think; you are still very much not safe, and no one is coming to help you. You are entirely on your own, you have no one to depend on but yourself.

First things first - you are still very much bleeding out, and your dislocated shoulder isn't going to relocate itself. You stand on wobbly legs, walking until you reach the nearest wall. Propping yourself against it you take a deep breath in, brace your other hand on your shoulder and push. A sickening crack emits from it, along with a burning pressure before it gives way - locking back into its socket.

You let out a strangled whine, exhaling the breath you were holding harshly. Catching your breath you take a minute before limping back over to the mattress.

After sitting down you reach for your duffle bag, lifting it and setting it on the bed beside you as you search through it. You don't have much, but a few pairs of clean shirts should be enough to hold it, right?

Now you just needed something to hold it in place… aha! You reach in for your trusty roll of duct tape - you should really invest in another roll, this one was running on fumes. You never went anywhere without this. Never knowing when it could come in handy. Like right now.

The good thing about duct tape was that it was sturdy as hell and, most importantly, could be easily ripped with one hand and a set of teeth.

You tear the shirt into one long usable strip first, deciding the blood gushing out of your fractured arm was more urgent than your leg. You make sure to wrap it tightly, a sloppy job would only cause more harm than good. Once the torn shirt is firmly packed around your upper arm, you reach for the roll of tape. After fiddling a bit to unravel enough to start, you bring it to the cloth and begin looping around it again and again - until you're satisfied with your now metallic-covered limb. Using your good hand, you pull the roll taut. After which allows you to use your teeth to tear off the end of the tape; fastening it down tightly.

Looking down at your mutilated thigh, you groan softly to yourself. From what it appeared - the man hadn't caught any major arteries. That was good news at least. Not so good news was that the entire upper portion of your pant leg was now soaked with your own blood. You didn't have time to change clothes, didn't even have time to rip open the cloth to get better access to the wound.

Grabbing another mostly clean shirt - at this point, you were going to run out of wearable clothing - you rip that one as well. Similarly to the way you had wrapped your arm, you secure your leg. By the time you finish covering it in duct tape, the roll is empty and you huff. Great.

You go to zip up your bag, only to be interrupted by a knock on your door. Your heart rate picks up immediately, ears straining to hear any commotion coming from behind the door. The door creaks open slightly - had you forgotten to lock it?? -, accompanied by the sound of metal clinking against the faux wood floor.

Hindbrain kicking into first gear you grapple for your duffle, slinging it over your good shoulder and dashing for the bathroom. You slam the door shut behind you, bracing against it. The telltale sound of a timer going off then the impact of shrapnel hitting the other side of the door erupts nearly seconds after the door forcefully clicks closed.

You only have seconds to think as the loud, gruff voices of men fill the room you were just in mere moments ago. You scramble to get your duffle off your shoulder, dropping it to the ground and rifling through it once more.

You pull out a small pistol and pray to a god you don't believe in that the damn thing is loaded. Your fingers curl around the cool metal, and your nerves settle as the feeling grounds you into the present. This is life or death. You've trained all your life for situations like this. And one thing is for certain - you're not going down without taking out as many of these fuckers as you possibly can.

You yank the door open and take open fire. You don't care where the shots land. You just hope they hit something. When the fog settles and you can see again, you take a look around. There's one patchwork armored man on the floor, clutching at his chest as crimson soaks through and envelopes the cloth. One other is gripping his arm, glaring at you with gritted teeth.

He lifts his gun to aim at you, blood seeping through the wound and dripping on the floor. There's a bullet through his skull before he gets the chance to pull the trigger. Deciding to put the other man out of his misery, you load another into his skull as well.

You grimace at the bodies laying in growing pools of their own blood. You honestly felt a little bad for the poor maintenance worker that would have to deal with your misfortune. Oh well, it's a good thing the flooring wasn't carpet.

After retrieving your duffle bag from the bathroom and shuffling out into the hall, you begin to descend. Making your way to the back exit - as you assumed the front door probably wouldn't take too kindly to your presence.

Halfway down the stairs, you hear muttering in the front room. Damn these stars and being placed so close to the front office…

You grit your teeth and try to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Something that isn't an easy feat when you're covered in your own blood, have a mystery bag on your shoulder, and a mask obscuring your identity. Still, you somehow manage to pass by undetected. The woman at the front desk keeps her answers vague, and you are a little grateful that past you chose such a sketchy place to take shelter in.

When the voices fade to nothing but background noise you let out a small breath of relief. Your arm aches and the burning in your thigh isn't letting up. You don't know how much longer you can do this, how much longer you can even walk before blood loss plunges you into darkness.

Vision fuzzy around the edges and breath labored under your mask, you stumble around the maze of hallways. You didn't even think there were this many - how many rooms could possibly fit in such a tiny building? You brace one hand on the closest wall, trusting it to support the majority of your weight. Time passes and you're starting to feel a little hopeless that you'll ever make it out alive. Lightheadedness kicks in at the same moment you hear muffled talking around the corner.

"-ooks like he-" One of them says. Your ears are full of cotton, and you cannot decipher their words fully.

"-eah, and he left the carnage for us-"

"- like him-"

You know that you are the him in question. You know they're looking for you. But who are they? Are they with the man from earlier? If so, what do they want with you?

Whatever it is can't be good, you decide. You turn away, opting to go down a different offshoot of the hall to avoid them. Your footing is uneven, shambling down the dimly lit corridor blindly.

Eventually, through some grand miracle, the neon-lit sign comes into view. Your saving grace is in the form of a flickering 'exit' sign anchored above a metal door. Renewed fervor erupts and your chest and you move faster. You're so close- only a few feet away from your salvation.

Granted you still had to get out of the city, and somehow find a way back to your home base… But that didn't matter right now. What mattered was your shaky, bare hands reaching up for the panic bar. It gives way with little resistance, and sunlight fills the darkness that had swallowed you. You breathe in the thick, humid air and find yourself almost grateful for it. Then the overbearing heat returns at full force to remind you why you hate this place so much.

You take a step forward, peaking your head out to check the back alley before you continue - fingers flexing around the grip of your handgun. Seeing that the coast is clear, you open the door more, slipping out onto reddish brown clay. It's a welcomed contrast to the dingy laminate wood flooring you had been stumbling around mere seconds before. Adjusting the duffle bag a bit, you move to fully exit the building.

Your fractured arm is wrenched behind your back before you make it any further. A cut-off yelp escapes you, breath catching at the cool press of metal against your throat.

"Drop it."

You don't register the words at first, too enraptured by the sound of the voice - distinctly of German descent - to cipher the meaning. Low, rough, and oddly appealing.

"Drop." The hold on your arm tightens, the blade inching closer. A silent threat. "It."

The words finally click and decades of rigorous training go out the window, your pistol clattering to the ground.

_____

Next | Masterlist

#call of duty #könig cod #cod x male reader #male reader #könig x male reader #gay pride

337 notes · View notes

miinatozakiii · 7 months

Text

have we met before?

myoui mina x fem!reader ; fluff, angst

synopsis: you and mina are destined to meet in every universe, it’s fate, it’s inevitable—but that doesn’t mean the circumstances are always ideal for the two of you.

warnings: mentions of food

wc: 5.5k

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬

a/n: based on those silly little drawings on tiktok that also have my heart screaming and crying bc they're so cute but sad for no reason like stop pls you're just a silly little stick man why am i sobbing

“do you think we know each other in every universe?” you ask in a small voice, almost a whisper.

mina turns her head to face you, you’re still looking up at the ceiling, breathing slowly. “what kind of question is that?” mina responds, laughing lowly from the sudden inquiry.

“i don’t know, I saw it online,” you start, turning to meet her gaze—squishing your cheek against the mattress in the process. “something about people meeting in other lives and universes, it was pretty interesting.” you add sleepily.

mina’s arm moves to settle down on your shoulder while you lay on the bed facing each other. you look at her with a tired, warm gaze through weighted eyelids. mina softly drags her knuckles over your skin, it makes you sigh contentedly.

“so what do you think?” you press again.

mina just smiles at you and uses her fingers to push loose, messy hair away from your face. you hum groggily in response and lean into her touch.

“i’d hope so.” mina murmurs, looking at your drowsy state.

she takes a moment to fully take in your presence, then presses a kiss against your forehead.

“me too.” you agree, resting your hand over her knuckles.

in this universe mina has just moved into the city, relishing the beautiful, new environment as she strolls around the area.

there’s a couple to her right across the street. they hold hands and swing them gently while they laugh and gaze at each other lovingly—mina smiles at the sight.

mina spots a small restaurant from her peripheral vision, something about the plants growing around it catches her eye, as well as the simple design and lights in the front. she walks towards it, fixing her loose, gray shirt.

she watches a woman step out the restaurant, and that woman is remarkably appealing. the woman kneels down to pet the calico cat that sits in front of the calatheas plant, the woman’s thumb rubs the top of its head, earning a pleased purr.

the woman fetches a small can of water, quickly tending to the plants by watering them, and inspecting them a bit after.

mina makes her way over and catches the attention of the waitress in the apron—the same woman who had tended to the plants. She turns and smiles immediately at mina, setting the can down and greeting her.

“hi, can i help you?” she asks. the woman’s voice is enchanting, it’s soft and welcoming.

mina nods then eyes the rest of the restaurant, it’s quite cozy.

“yes, do you serve lunch?” mina asks.

“yes ma’am, come on in, i can find a seat for you. it’s not too busy at the moment.” the woman says, urging mina to follow her, “there’s only our regulars here at the moment, many empty seats for a lovely lady like you.” mina’s lips curve upward from the unexpected compliment.

the woman leads her to a little table near the window, a small pot occupies it and it holds a healthy-looking fern in it. the waitress hands the menu over to her with both hands—which mina accepts gracefully.

“i’m y/n,” you start, “i’ll be your waitress. i’ll be back in a couple of minutes, take your time.”

what a wonderful name.

when you return, mina has picked out what she would like to order. you approach the table with your signature grin—one mina finds very captivating, sweet, and cute. she has trouble keeping her eyes off your lips for a moment.

“ready to order miss?”

“yes. may i have a bowl of the glass noodles?” mina asks. you nod and started to write on the small notepad in your hand.

“yes ma’am, anything else?”

“green tea would be great.”

“alright. by the way, the glass noodles come with a side dish, any protein on the menu-“ you point to the protein options on the menu with your pen, “there.”

mina reads through the options: salmon, tuna, mushrooms, tofu, chicken, beef, shrimp, and pork.

“what would you recommend?” mina questions, making you think to yourself for a bit.

“my favorites are the tofu, it’s seasoned very well. you can never go wrong with tuna or salmon either, but those are just my preferences. all the protein choices are wonderful.”

“i’ll take the tofu then.”

“alright. so, japchae with a side of tofu and some green tea for the pretty lady in the corner.” you say as you charmingly smile at mina, “will that be all?”

mina giggles at your boldness, nodding. “do you always flirt with customers?”

“only the pretty ones that catch my eye—you’re the first to do so.” you admit.

“i’m flattered, y/n.” mina responds. you smile brightly from how she uses your name, and because she’s tolerant of your stupid flirting.

You giggle. “your order will be ready in a bit. i’ll make sure to pull at the chefs strings to have it out as quick as possible.” you say, “anything to satisfy the lovely lady.”

mina laughs at your comment then rests her chin on her palm. “thanks waiter.”

you arrive ten minutes later and snap mina out of her daydreaming, she’s been staring at the window and watching the people of the city pass by. she could get quite comfortable knowing that a lovely waiter is within a one-mile radius.

“your japchae and tofu, as well as your tea.” you beam, setting down her hot tea and meal.

mina smiles and the aroma of the food pleases her senses, so does the waiter’s delightful presence. the food smells wonderful, it looks delicious too. you nod at her before scurrying to help out the group of elderly men at the other side of the restaurant, they pat your shoulder and make you giggle. seems like your presence is something that everyone is fond of.

as you swiftly run a hand through your tousled hair, the lines of your face come into sharper focus, accentuating your features. the black apron around your waist becomes slightly taut as you tighten it, giving mina a glimpse of your punctilious nature. you reach for a soft rag and press it firmly against the worn wooden surface. the tendons in your forearm flex with each wipe, they’re quite toned.

mina's gaze lingers on your arm, drawn to the dainty tattoo adorning your wrist. it’s a subtle flower-like design, its colors blending seamlessly with your skin—mina thinks it’s cute.

but it's not just your appearance that intrigues her. there's something intangible about you, an inexplicable familiarity that fogs up her mind. in the short span of thirty minutes, you’ve managed to create a tranquil atmosphere around her with the help of your dorky charm.

it's as if you have a unique ability to make her feel instantly at home, even though she can't recall ever meeting you before. the way you carry yourself so casually, the kindness and warmth that radiate from you, all contribute to this puzzling connection she feels.

you hand mina the check after she finishes up, the price is not bad at all. you grab her bowl, small plate, and tea cup, balancing them effortlessly on one hand.

“can i pay with cash?”

“of course, let me put these dishes in the back. you can pay up at the register since it’s cash.” you respond, departing temporarily.

mina shuffles through her purse and pulls out a few bills, making sure to tip you generously for your wonderful service and lovely charm. she walks over to the register, you’re behind the counter with a strand of hair falling over your face and tapping at the screen.

“your total is fifteen hundred yen.” you say. mina hands you twenty-five hundred, making you raise your brows in surprise.

“i liked your service.” mina shrugs, bashfully avoiding eye contact. she puts her wallet back into her purse, and explains, “i just moved into the city, i’m really glad i ran into someone as sweet as you on my first day.”

you grin and feel a warmth spread across your cheeks, “is that so? i’m glad. i hope you like it here, i’d love for you to visit again. i wouldn’t complain if a beauty like you were a regular.”

mina’s lips turn, it’s hard for her to make eye contact with you. a small laugh leaves your lips as you take the money she had slid across the counter, carefully handling it then placing fifteen hundred yen in the register, and putting a thousand in the tip jar.

you beam at her again, “thank you, have a great day miss.”

“it’s mina.” she corrects politely, “my name is mina.”

“pretty name. fits you.” you respond, ears growing pink. mina laughs and waves at you with a gummy smile—it’s adorable and you want to see it again and again. butterflies flutter in your stomach from the sight of it. the elegant woman with the cute beauty marks walks towards the door, and as you sense this fleeting moment, your eyes search frantically for something that’ll have mina trudging back in the future.

spotting a pen and napkin nearby, you swiftly reach out, snatching them up in your trembling hand and scribbling a string of numbers on it.

mina steps outside and takes in the scenery of the restaurant, it fits the lovely, calm neighborhood that it occupies.

“wait! mina!” a voice calls out. she turns and spots you, rushing out the door and settling yourself in front of her.

you hand her the napkin you scribbled on. “this is my number, i’d love to get to know you more.” you say timidly as mina takes the dainty piece of paper.

“you’re cute.” mina boldly states, laughing softly, “this place isn’t far from my apartment, and the food is good. there might be a new regular here soon.”

“perfect.” you hum.

“thank you for the food, i’ll see you again.”

“see you, mina.”

a tender silence envelops both of you as you exchange a knowing glance, the unspoken connection blooming with a newfound sweetness. something about mina seems oddly familiar, weirdly comforting—you’re not one to flirt so easily, but the words had just spewed out your mouth every time you talked to her.

you wonder: maybe you know her in another universe, you remember hearing about that theory from one of the elderly customers. maybe you’re good friends someplace else—maybe more.

in another universe, a complex web of fate had merged your brother, jun, with mina—a princess from a kingdom that held tensions with your own. their marriage seemed to hold the promise of easing the strained relations between the two kingdoms.

jun, the epitome of the stereotypical prince, perfectly fit into the mold. women swooned over him and he possessed the necessary “princely” skills, he seemed to have it all. however, beneath his "charming” exterior lay a massive ego, pissy attitude, and a small, smooth, and pathetic brain. he carried himself as superior to you, despite his cowardice and controversial morals.

as for yourself, in this royal universe, you were less recognized compared to your stingy brother, but still held a significant position. while you may have lacked certain attributes expected from a princess, it honestly mattered very little since you weren’t in line to inherit the throne (you didn’t like the thought of all that work anyway, so you were relieved.)

a generous freedom was granted to you, which allowed you to develop an intellect that your brother desperately needed, and a great personality compared to the prick of a prince. admittedly, you possessed a prominent physical beauty, attracting numerous suitors, but they often drew back after realizing you weren’t just a stupid, submissive woman who they could boss and fuck around with.

you had first seen mina at the altar while she was getting married to your brother—a fate so cruel it makes you want to object, especially only hearing that she’s a soft-spoken, kind soul—according to your father.

something about her seemed oddly familiar, even as you watched from afar. she turned towards you only once, and you made eye contact in that brief moment. your brows creased when your heart recognized her, yearning for an odd reason. she turned back to face jun and you ignored the sensation in your chest, figuring that the feeling in your heart might’ve been the sorrow you had for this newlywed: princess mina.

you never have dinner at the same time as your brother, so you’ve never had dinner with the new addition to your kingdom. though this changes when jun is sent away for the night (for whatever “princely” reason, you don’t know, and neither do you care.)

you’re seated across from your brother’s wife, and this is the first time you’ve seen her up close and in person. she’s beautiful.

you find yourself captivated by mina's ethereal beauty, unable to tear your eyes away from her radiant presence. every curve and line of her face is a testament to perfection, leaving you marveling in awe.

mina’s features are more than attractive, they’re perfect—no painter could ever capture the full glow of her visuals. her lips look so soft, the way her silky, dark hair effortlessly flows down her shoulders makes you yearn to run your fingers through them, losing yourself in their silky texture. as she gracefully picks up a piece of salmon, the way she chews it delicately, you can't help but be captivated by her composure and grace—damn, you think, she even eats elegantly.

when mina’s eyes meet yours, you shyly look away at the strangely flustering eye contact, feeling nervous for whatever reason.

most women would feel a bit insecure, self-conscious, and maybe even intimidated in your situation. however, all you feel is an unspeakable attraction from your brother’s wife, which has got to be messy.

It gets messier when mina looks at you while you avoid eye contact, and you quickly pretend to be busy by gracefully picking up a piece of salmon and chewing it like a princess should (because mina is right in front of you).

mina observes you, her eyes filled with a deep curiosity while she tries to sneak subtle glances. it's evident that she recognizes the resemblance between you and your brother, but you’re definitely the better-looking sibling. her gaze lingers on the white ribbon holding half your hair up, rendering you even more fascinating in her eyes. stray strands of hair gently frame your face, and as you tuck them behind your ear, her eyes follow the movement with a mixture of awe and allure.

though you and mina have never engaged in conversation, the inscrutable (homosexual) tension between you two is undeniable, as if you were destined to meet.

“is there something on my face?” mina asks, voice soft and wow, even her voice is beautiful. she tilts her head when she catches you stealing a glance.

“oh, no, sorry.” you respond politely, “i just, um, noticed your beauty marks. they’re pretty.”

(you don’t know why you chose to compliment her now and here when you’re alone in this dining room and the tension is prominent—are you trying to embarrass yourself?)

“thank you, y/n was it?” the sound of your name being articulated by that delicate voice of hers is enough to have your cheeks burning.

“yeah, y/n.”

“you’re quite pretty too.”

you smile and poke at your salmon, “thank you.”

two weeks from that dinner, you find yourself meeting with her and spending more time with the lovely princess since her own joke of a husband can’t do so. mina was never fond of jun anyway, he boasted too much, and you were much more pleasing to the eye—and her heart.

you lead mina around the castle, holding her hand and dragging her to the large library in the east wing. you ramble about the books you’ve read, cheeks flushing lightly when you go on a tangent about romance novels. when you stop gushing about books out of fear of boring her, she urges you to go on, giving you that signature grin that makes your heart leap.

a few weeks after that moment in the library, mina finds herself situated in your own bedroom. it’s a large room, fit for a princess like you. the room smells like peaches and is tidy for the most part, though books clutter some spaces and it honestly feeds mina’s growing interest in you.

the ribbon in your hair is worked at with your slim fingers and your locks are let down with a swift motion of the fabric. you run a hand through your hair and lead mina to your bed, grabbing her hand and urging her to sit down next to you.

mina sits down and you hum, softly while you lean against the headboard of the bed.

“are you tired?” mina asks, and you shake your head.

“not really.”

“it’s quite late.”

“perhaps.” you say, turning over to face her. “you know, speaking of sleep. i’ve been having dreams about you.”

mina raises her brows and giggles, “really now?”

you hum, “yeah, it’s a flash of different scenes, different lives.”

“sounds interesting.”

“mhm.” you sigh, looking from the mole on mina’s nose to her lips. “we always end up meeting. do you think we know each other in every life? like, maybe there’s other universes where we’re… maybe we’re best friends in another kingdom, or maybe we’re commoners.”

“that’s a possibility. you read a lot of books, maybe they’re creating that fantasy world up in that brain of yours.” mina teases, subconsciously scooting closer to you.

your gaze stills on her face, you stay silent for a moment and mina grows flustered as you travel across her features with your look. your hand moves over to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and your thumb rubs against her soft, delicate skin—just below her left eye.

“an eyelash was there.” you say, and her cheek grows noticeably warm from the contact of your thumb on her skin.

“i had this one dream, you know…” you start, moving your thumb along her cheek and tracing the side of her face with your pointer. you lean a bit closer, and mina does too, she stares at your plump, soft, peachy lips. “we were really close, like this.” you practically whisper, voice lowering as you mumble.

“yeah?” mina asks, leaning closer. now both of you are staring at each other’s lips, bodies reeling in closer as if there were a string of desire pulling your hearts closer to each other.

mina tilts her head and her eyelids start to shut, you mirror her action and do the same. her cold fingers find your cheek and softly caress your skin, pulling you in closer for a kiss.

her lips are as soft as they look, warm against your own despite the chill of her fingers on your face—though they seem to burn into you the deeper the kiss grows. the locking of lips is dangerous, especially with mina seeing as she’s married to your brother and all. the two of you know everything will have to be behind closed doors, love can be difficult.

mina pulls away with lidded eyes and you whine in response.

“did we do that in your dream?”

“yeah, a few times.”

“déjà vu i guess,” mina murmurs against your lips, “i’ve had the same dreams,” she admits before sliding her hand down to your neck, gently gripping your hair and twirling it around her finger. she kisses you again, your lips recognize the feeling.

in this universe you’re on the way back to the ice rink. you’ve forgotten your bag filled with your shoulder pads and gloves.

you check the locker room and there’s nothing, but you do spot momo’s unlocked locker. knowing the clumsy, forgetful teammate, she had probably rushed out after getting a call from that sana girl she’s been talking to. the swooning lesbian had most likely left the building in a second, you’re using that against her for sure.

“where is it…” you grumble, wandering around the locker room and shuffling through every corner.

a sigh leaves your lips and you head out to the rink, it has to be there if it’s not in the locker rooms; otherwise, you’re completely fucked and your wallet might come to life just to kill you if you don’t find that dumb bag.

you step into the rink area, your face getting hit with the cold air of the room. the issue at hand is completely disregarded when your gaze lands on a figure gracefully gliding across the ice, her presence seemingly ethereal. her movements are an intricate dance on the frozen surface beneath, each glide harmoniously transitioning into the next. you’re captivated to say the least.

her body glides effortlessly, proof of her unquestionable talent. with every spiraling twirl and soaring leap, she effortlessly keeps your attention on her, you’re enamored. her skate blades etch intricate patterns into the ice, similar to the way yours hack at the ice when you speed through players to score a point during your scrimmages.

the woman stops and her eyes meet yours, making you redirect your attention elsewhere, reminding you of the reason why you’re even back here past practice hours.

she skates towards the gate that leads out the rink and you quickly walk away, scanning the seats for your blue bag. it has to be here somewhere; you prayit’s there.

your prayers were answered—a blue bag is spotted on one of the benches with the same shoulder pads you had used earlier, you let out a sigh of relief.

when you make your way back towards the door back to the lobby, you’re face-to-face with the same woman who had been skating—she had been the only other person here besides you at this hour, further emphasizing her devotion to her art.

she examines you carefully. your hair is still disheveled and your nose is also pink from the practice you had earlier. you’re wearing a comfy-looking navy hoodie, as well as matching, baggy sweatpants—though maybe a slightly darker shade. the blue bag is held over your shoulder, sitting along your back while you carry it.

mina swears she recognizes you, the messy hair that falls over your face and that dorky, awkward smile you shoot her is strangely familiar. maybe she’s met you at this rink before, that’s probably the case.

“sorry, did i interrupt you?” you pry, scared to have disrupted her elegant performance.

“no, not at all.” she responds. you look her up and down, eyeing the full black outfit she wears briefly before meeting her soft eyes and appealing features. you pause for a brief moment when you see the two recognizable beauty marks: one above her top lip and the other on her nose.

“have we met before?” you ask, curious as to why there’s a weird understanding from her.

“i don’t know, maybe we have.”

“you seem very familiar, i can’t put my finger on it.” you mumble, brows furrowing lightly.

“i- i thought that too.”

you put out a hand, “i’m y/n.”

mina reciprocates the gesture and puts her hand in yours—a strangely perfect fit, as if her hand has been there before.

“mina.” she says, staring at your hands making contact.

“do you always practice at this rink?” you question, interested as to how you’ve missed someone as eye-catching as her.

mina nods. “i usually practice later or in the early mornings.”

“that’s why i haven’t seen you around.” you hum, “i practice during late afternoons.”

“are you a hockey player?”

“yup.” you respond proudly, shooting a grin that makes the figure skaters own lips turn. you shove your hand in your pocket and find your phone, checking the time. “i’ll leave you to your practice, you skate beautifully by the way.”

mina smiles and you contemplate whether you should pry and find out more of her schedule just from seeing the curve of her pretty lips. “i’ll see you y/n, hope we run into each other again.”

“likewise. have a great night mina.”

“you too.”

you’re a lucky woman, very, very lucky.

you run into the beautiful figure skater two days later, and then two days after that, and somehow you’re running to her after every other practice.

quick conversation and small talk is exchanged between the short periods of time that you see each other, a friendship blossoms quickly.

mina, with her quiet demeanor, has always been reserved, even around her own coach and most people she interacts with. however, something about your presence makes her feel instantly at ease—as if you’ve known each other for years. your charm effortlessly melts her tension away, creating a comfortable atmosphere where she’s no longer limited to her usual three-word responses.

beyond her enchanting beauty on the ice, mina's personality shines in its own unique way. her lovely features are undeniably captivating, but it's the tenderness in her remarks and descriptions of her day that truly warms your heart. each word she utters, spoken in her soft and honeyed voice, forms an urge to know more about mina.

not even a month later, the two of you find yourselves in a small diner sitting across from each other.

your cheek is in your palm while you listen to mina go on about her recent fixations and interests—one being the legos that she had finally bought after eyeing for two months. you find yourself laughing at the way she talks about the plastic building pieces with such passion and excitement, your smile growing wider with each remark from the divine woman in front of you.

mina goes on about her dream of being a professional figure skater, that it’s been her dream since she was a litte girl. she even admits that she’d love to travel to other countries to train and learn more, she’s fond of foreign training programs. the success she craves inspires you, and soon after you exchange your own dreams of being in one of the big league hockey teams. you give mina a little background on yourself, explaining that you lived in canada for half your life, which also happens to be the same place where you started becoming infatuated with hockey. mina nods in awe, listening with intent.

the two of you ramble and laugh and smile and blush—it makes the two of you so amazingly giddy.

the date is cliché, something out of a movie: dinner with a beautiful woman, paying for her meal, and then driving her home—before she leaves, you kiss her cheek—she blushes and kisses you on the lips, leaving you in the car with a flushed face and a dangerously quick heart rate.

most of your relationships in the past—if not all, have been quite rocky after a couple of months, but that’s not the case with mina.

there’s a simple understanding between you two, as if you already know each other’s likes and dislikes by heart. you’re accustomed to mina’s mood swings and troubles, always being there if she needed a shoulder to lean on. there was a silent understanding, and mina was glad that she had you. mina is understanding when you explain your past and the difficulties of pursuing a hockey career, and once you’re done shedding a few tears you exchange your first “i love you’s.”

it's safe to say that being with mina has been the best time of your life, not even a year has passed by and she’s had you swooning more than momo had been when she first got with sana. you’re hooked, you’re in love.

there’s nothing that could break you and mina up, not with the wonderful communication and understanding of boundaries. you two were perfect for each other, there was no way anything could hinder the relationship.

“can we talk?” you and mina say together, surprised that you said it at the same time with the same uneasy tone.

“you go first.” you urge, mina shakes her head.

“no, you go.” she responds. you laugh to calm your nerves, to ease your worries, to stop the tears that start to well in your eyes, it works temporarily—but mina can sense the tension in the air, and it’s frightening.

you inhale, then exhale slowly.

“i was scouted, they want me in one of the best training facilities and teams in canada.” you croak out, a lump forming in your throat after you speak. mina purses her lip and you can tell she tries to stop herself from crying, closing her eyes and turning her head downwards.

“y/n,” she says, voice shaky, “they… they want me training in korea.”

you blink and tears spill, rolling down your face.

“i think you should take it, mina.” you say heartbreakingly, “you’re very talented, i know it would get you far. it’s your dream, i know how much you liked the training over in korea.”

“i think you should take,“ mina cuts herself off with a sniffle, “you should go to canada.”

the two of you aren’t lying, wanting the others to achieve their own dream, but the inevitable product is the two of you parting. that’s the last thing you want.

if you had known that you would’ve met mina earlier, she would’ve been your dream, you’d give up everything for her and mina would do the same for you. however, these offers are something that the two of you have been longing for, and even if your hearts may shatter by taking up these opportunities, the two of you know it has to be your choices.

you pull mina into your arms, a bittersweet embrace. her tears stain your t-shirt, yours seem to stain hers as well.

“i’m sorry.” mina cries.

“don’t,” you sob, “it’s okay, we’ll be okay.” you add, though you’re unsure yourself.

the distance is impossible, and it’s already difficult to spend more than three hours a day with each other now, so thinking of how it would be while you’re thousands of kilometers apart has you holding onto mina tighter, knowing that you’ll have to let her go.

your flight leaves in less than two hours, and you still have to go through baggage as well as security.

a tear slips down your cheek as you hold onto mina, you don’t want to let go, you can’t, but you have to.

you two had a long talk filled with tears and runny noses about how this would go down, and you decided to spend the last few days together, savoring and cherishing the last moments of each other’s presence. sure, the two of you could see each other now and then, but it would be too hard to keep a long-distance relationship going when your schedules are full and your bodies are tired. the time difference doesn’t help either. it just won’t work out, no matter what obstacle you tried to work around, it was evident that this wasn’t going to cut it with the new circumstances.

so you two decided to do what was necessary: break up.

mina pulls away with tears spilling down her face, she’s wearing the sweater you gifted her on her birthday. it makes you sniffle.

“i’m going to miss you.” you say in between tears, “too much.”

“me too.” she says. her nose is red, eyes pink, and her bottom lip quivers.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i wish we could-“

“y/n, i love you. i want you to achieve this dream.” mina cuts you off, “i’m willing to let you go for it to happen.”

“i’ll love you forever.” you cry, “whatever happens, there’s always a space in my heart for you. when you make it to the big screen, i’ll cheer for you. promise”

mina closes her eyes and wipes her tears, “and I’ll do the same. god, y/n… i love you so much.”

“don’t say that, please my nose is getting stuffy,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. your voice cracks, it’s shaky. “i promise in another universe or something like that, everything will work out, and we won’t have distance keeping us apart. in every life i swear mina, i swear i’ll find you, we’ll meet and we don’t have to part like this and- fuck, god i can’t do this.”

mina laughs, it’s not out of amusement. she’s going to miss your dorky little rambling. “you’ve been watching too many marvel movies.”

“stop that,” you sigh, smiling in between tears. “but I swear, I will.”

“is that a promise?”

“yes mina, yes.”

mina smiles again before tip-toeing to kiss you, you get the faint taste of her salty tears. the kiss is quite long, both of you not wanting to pull away, not wanting to part.

your hand lingers on mina’s cheek, it’s soft on her skin, she melts into your touch one last time.

“i love you always.” mina says, using her own thumb to wipe away your damp, pink cheek.

“me too.” you rasp, “always and forever.”

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice mina #kpop fluff #twice angst #myoui mina #myoui mina x reader #mina x reader #mina imagines

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alltimefail-sims · 1 year

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I've been meaning to make this post for a while because there are always arguments and frustrations regarding WCIFs here on simblr. With new users and simblrs popping up every day, I thought it wise to take a few minutes to inform people on this topic as some people really might not even know what WCIF means or what the universally acceptable way to approach WCIF asks is.

WCIF is shorthand for "where can I find..."

If you are a simblr, it is a good idea to clarify in your blog's bio if you are open to messages asking about cc, that way people visiting your blog don't have to guess. You can indicate this by saying you are either WCIF Friendly or WCIF Unfriendly/No WCIFs. If someone is WCIF friendly, it means that they welcome messages in their ask box regarding where to find a certain mod, piece of cc, etc. If someone is WCIF unfriendly, this means they do not welcome messages in their ask box of this nature.

When someone is WCIF unfriendly, you should respect their terms and boundaries by not sending them a message asking where to find something for the sims. Yes, this means even "well-intended" asks that are ultra polite are not welcome to them (which is perfectly okay). Instead, first check if the user has a "CC Finds" sideblog where they reblog the cc they use.

If they don't have a "CC Finds" blog where they essentially archive the cc they use, you can make a post on your own blog with a screenshot (with a link to the original post) and/or a description of the cc you're looking for and tag it as public wcif, this way people can respond if they know what the mod or cc is. There are also reddit threads for sims 4 wcifs you can post on. If you don't want to do any of that, try googling it by description! You'd be surprised how intuitive the results can be.

On the other hand, if someone is WCIF friendly they are open to helping you find a specific piece of cc for the sims, but you should always send them a WCIF in their ask box, not through a private message or a comment on their post. This is so they can make one public post and avoid inquiries about the same cc over and over again. They will likely tag these posts on their page as "WCIF," so be sure to check their tags before you ask them about a piece of cc because they might have already linked to it in a different ask!

It should go without saying, but even though someone is WCIF friendly this doesn't mean you can disregard kindness when it comes to asking someone a favor. Say hi, ask politely (please and thank you go a long way ya know!), and be patient. People who are wcif friendly choose to take their time to link cc for others, so they're doing you a favor...be nice!

I think I covered the basics as simply as I could; the most important thing is to remember that there are real people on the other side of simblr blogs, and whether they have 13,000 followers or 3 they deserve to be respected. Just be kind and respect people's boundaries. I hope this helps someone, and if you didn't know about any of this... now you know! 👍

#ts4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #simblr #wcif #public wcif #ts4cc #ts4 custom content #wcif etiquette #wcif guide #<- tagging in lots of categories to reach a wide audience #I know this might seem silly but I think some people just like... need this explained. Some people just don't know #resources #atfs #alltimefail-sims

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puella-peanut · 2 months

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Johnny & Robby.

[+2¢Q]: Do you think R is necessary in J’s narrative?

I sometimes feel he’s one of those characters that if they didn’t exist the series would be the same. Like J & D would still be friends/co-senseis and J would still get the family + romance with the Diaz’, nothing changed.

Robby WAS necessary in Johnny's narrative once upon a time when the writers actually cared about Johnny as a father, and cared about his overall character-development. Robby WAS most important in season 1, where his sad and terrible lack of a relationship with his own deadbeat dad was a great contrast to the relationship Johnny so readily and quickly built with Miguel. (Easy to do so when you don't have to apologize and try and rebuild and work hard to overcome 16 some years of NOT BEING A DAD TO YOUR BIOLOGICAL KID.) Why not just start over with this conveniently available neighborhood kid who is a bright, clean slate? Easy peasy, look, I can be a mentor and a dad too haters111!1!!!

From season 3 and up to the current season 5 however? Lmao, Robby could die and Johnny would probably care for about 10 minutes before popping open a cold one and asking Carmen if the baby's here yet. Outside of some incredibly forced and very poorly written relationship "bonding" (everything in season 5 between them), Robby is entirely unnecessary to Johnny in...every way.

Robby's a fascinating character on his own, a good kid at his core who has had no proper guidance in his life, and is simply there for Johnny to use as some sort of scapegoat. He is important only in his own narrative, and would continue to be even if Johnny didn't exist whatsoever. Robby's a good enough character on his own that he doesn't need to use anyone else as a crutch to prop up his own development.

But if Robby didn't exist?

Johnny would still be a 50+ year old drunk who can barely hold down a job. He'd still build a relationship with Miggy, and this time there wouldn't be any shadow of contrast between this new relationship and what he should have had with Robby. He still would have ended up with Carmen, and would have still been given a new baby to try out fatherhood on one more time like this is a corny Hallmark movie. (At times, I almost think it is.)

Like I said: Robby only mattered to Johnny in season 1. Season 2 as well. But from then on? Nope.

Thanks for the ask!

#robby keene #johnny lawrence #sweep the leg #cobra kai #in which i respond to your inquiries

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beezhive · 8 months

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hi all: unfortunately my financial situation has changed and so i need to lower my prices below what my work is worth.

i have been prescribed a $30,000 medicine that fortunately my insurance approved, which means i still need to pay my $1,800 out of pocket before i can get it. there is also a hurricane i am prepping for. not only do i have to save money for my medicine but i will be missing out on work as well. i do not start my freelancing job for at least another month or so.

half body sheets are now $50 for a single outfit and undergarments, and $75 for two outfits (may incur additional charges based on complexity.)

sketch sheets for one character two sketches are $40 and couples are now $55.

see below for additional info from my original post.

thank you 💚

if you're interested, please respond via this form. if you have any questions before filling out the form, you are more than welcome to email me at ocelhira at gmail. i will not be responding to commission inquiries sent directly to my email. this is provided for any clarification or basic questions.

references required / i reserve the right to refuse any commission / commissions with pose references/clear character references/etc will be given priority. if your commission is accepted you will be given a link to my commission update page.

all payment is upfront via paypal thru paypal invoice. commission turnarounds can be expected within 2-4 weeks, as i do work full time.

#art #commissions #open commissions #anyway . Thanks !!

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sha-n-dowbannedlol · 10 months

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Miguel O'Hara — Please Don't Say You Love Me

cw: i cant stop thinking about him, so i wrote a one shot. but i also have a love-hate relationship with him, so i made it angsty.

Miguel O'Hara.

There isn't anyone in the Spider Society who hasn't heard of him: The Big Boss. He's strict, overworked, reserved, and has a bit of a temper—not that anyone would ever say that to his face.

However, to the select few who were close to him, they knew something more about Miguel O'Hara that they could never tell anyone else.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man of Earth-928B, is hopelessly in love with you.

And that alone is bad enough for Miguel. But would you like to know something even worse?

He knows you're in love with him too.

He was the first to fall, that much he knew, and he was okay with that. He simply admired you from afar, enduring the teasing glances and knowing smirks Jess and Ben would throw his way, and the unbearable teasing from Lyla and Peter B.

Slowly but surely, however, he started to notice the way your eyes would shine brightly every time you caught a glimpse of him. The way you started to have a pep in your step when you made your way to report to him. His enhanced hearing could even pick up the way your breath hitched in your throat or the way your heart skipped a beat.

Miguel then realized he had to put a stop to this......whatever might possibly develop.

From then on, he avoided you like a plague—which wasn't all that hard, but it led him to confine himself to his office more than he already did. Every communication he had with you remained professional, and he merely answered your inquiries with short quips, ending the conversation sooner than it had begun.

He was harsher with you than he was with others, overworked you. He did everything in his power to push you away from him, to make you lose interest in him, to hate him.

That didn't work, however. That much he figured out when he overheard your conversation with another Peter Parker, who pointed out his attitude towards you.

He forgot that you were a spider person; the epitome of hope, plenty stubborn, and more positive than he would have liked you to be.

"That just means he sees more potential in me and trusts in my abilities greatly, doesn't it?" You responded then, and even if Miguel couldn't see you, he could almost imagine the smile on your face.

Miguel walked away before he could even think of falling for you even more.

Both of you were never supposed to meet, never supposed to fall in love.

He reminded himself, his fists clenched, as he made his way down the halls of the Spider Society—the society that he had built himself to save the multiverse.

That's right. To save the multiverse, not to destroy it.

"But wouldn't you at least like to try?" The man was swift to put his hand up and wave Lyla away.

"No," Miguel's response was final, his brows scrunching together in annoyance, ignoring the ache in his chest.

Interweave enough universes, versions of himself fall in love with enough versions of yourself, and he might end up being the cause of the universal collapse instead of maintaining it.

His decision was final. His resolve was absolute.

Yet, he found his breath hitching in his throat when he saw you approach him, your determined gaze boring through his, your clenched fists at your sides, and he could hear your elevated heartbeat—one that he could clearly deduce was due to nervousness.

"Miguel," you called out, and he could hear the shakiness in your voice, "There's something I need to tell you."

Just like that, he already knew why you were here.

And he can't. He can't let you say those words. He already knew how you feel towards him, but if he hears it coming from you........ if he hears you say that you love him.............

He stops the thought, not even wanting to think about it.

"I'm sorry," he wasn't sorry at all, "I'm busy. Can this wait for another time?"

He turned his back toward you, pretending to focus on the number of screens before him. His eyes scanned through the information being displayed by the soft orange light, but his brain couldn't process any of it.

"It won't be long, Miguel." You pleaded, and he winced to himself. "I just wanted to tell you that I-"

"Por favor," Miguel rasped out exasperatedly, turning his head to the side as he gazed at you from the corner of his eye, "no digas que me quieres."

You didn't understand his words, that much he knew. Still, the tone of his voice must have been enough for you to back down, and he caught a glimpse of you smiling helplessly as you shook your head.

"Alright..." you spoke, "Maybe next time, then."

Miguel merely turned his head to focus back on his work, maintaining his facade until he could no longer hear your retreating footsteps. Only then did he allow his shoulders to slump over, burying his face in his hands as he repeatedly muttered 'esto es para lo mejor' to himself like a mantra.

If he repeated it over and over again, maybe it would lessen the pain in his heart.

If he repeated it over and over again, maybe one day he'll be strong enough to hear those words from you and not pull you into his arms and press his lips to yours.

If he repeated it over and over again, maybe one day he'll muster enough courage to reject your love.

If he repeated it over and over again, then maybe he would eventually fully believe that this truly was for the best.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara imagine #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader

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chichikoi · 6 months

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hygge; — (n.) a quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being.

pairing: wriothesley x gn!reader fandom: genshin impact genre: fluff warnings: implications of a stoic/reserved reader. a/n: half asleep while writing this, but what can i say, wrio's been on my mind.

As the day released its tendrils of weariness, you and Wriothesley found yourselves ensconced in the hushed sanctuary of your shared space. Wriothesley, the embodiment of stoic composure, detected a delicate shift in the atmosphere—a subtle softening that spoke of your unspoken struggle.

You allowed a fleeting vulnerability to grace the room like a rare bloom, despite typically being a bastion of quiet strength. Wriothesley, attuned to the nuances of your connection, adjusted the cadence of his responses with a delicate touch of understanding, a modulation in his normally crisp demeanor.

Within the quietude of the room, Wriothesley, his words now an invitation, murmured, "What are you thinking about, hmm?" His voice, usually a composed symphony, now carried a timbre of compassion, an echo which resonated with the hidden notes of your soul.

Your heartbeats synchronizing with the rhythm of the evening, yielded to the gentle inquiry. "It's just been a taxing day, that's all," you confessed, your words a whispered sonnet in the dimming light. Wriothesley, his gaze a serene constellation, responded with a gentle touch, "Sometimes, the weight of the day can be overwhelming. You're not alone, love." The usually reserved duke of the fortress of meropide, finding solace in the whispers of untold words, acknowledged the delicate interplay of emotion.

It was in the tranquil ambience of Wriothesley's arms, that you found a harmonious respite, a consecrated interval where the lines of exposed frailty depicted a portrait of intimacy. As you quietly unwound, an atmosphere of sacred understanding emerged, wherein through gestures of vulnerability two souls were able to connect on a canvas illuminated by truthful revelations of the heart. In this moment beyond time, a refuge was discovered and a shared sanctuary emerged, as the verses of your humanity spoke to one another. The quietude enveloped you, a serene sonnet written in the language of understanding and whispered solace.

#♔ — works !#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley fluff

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doumadono · 6 months

Note

Morning, how are you? Are you taking requests for Sinful Sunday? If so, could you please write a drabble about Hawks and thigh high stockings with a female reader?

A/N: hiya, dear nonnie, I appreciate your inquiry. I'm actually doing quite well these days, and I genuinely hope that you're also in good spirits!

SINFUL SUNDAY

You were adorned in a seductive little black mini-cocktail dress, designed to accentuate every curve of your body. The fabric clung to your form so snugly that your pert nipples were daringly evident, all without the concealment of any undergarments. The dress tantalizingly flirted with the edge of immodesty, barely reaching your mid-thigh. With every subtle movement, the black thigh-high stockings you wore became a teasing secret, visible if you happened to bend over just right.

Hawks couldn't help but revel in his decision to visit the bar that fateful night. His sole desire that night was to revel in the pleasure of the moment, and it seemed fate had introduced him to someone who shared that very same longing.

"I want you to murder my pussy," as you spoke, your words were laced with the remnants of tipsiness after you stepped into his apartment. You cast your eyes around Number Two's impeccably decorated apartment, a testament to his refined taste and sophistication. The ambiance exuded an air of elegance that matched the allure of your attire, creating an atmosphere charged with desire and intrigue.

Hawks replied back, "You're a little tease. I love it." His hand fleetingly caressed one of your thighs, his fingertips sensually gliding over the smooth, nylon texture of your stockings. "Incredibly sexy and delightfully soft," he murmured appreciatively.

Soon, your hands were exploring each other's lustful bodies as you kissed passionatelly.

As your lips finally parted, you gazed deeply into Takami's eyes, your desire evident. The words spilled from your mouth, "I want you to destroy my cunt." Your hand delved beneath his pants, wrapping around his considerable hardness, your mind racing as you measured the sheer length and girth of his cock.

Hawks responded with a wicked grin, spinning you around and guiding you towards the inviting bed. He tore off his shirt with a fierce eagerness, unzipped his pants, and discarded them along with his boxers. You obediently assumed your position, hands resting on the bed, your body poised for him. Glancing back with a sultry look, you beheld Keigo, now fully disrobed, his substantial manhood aimed squarely at you. "Unbelievable," you breathed in awe, your dress lifting to reveal the curve of your derrière. A delicate thong barely concealed your pussy, and with a swift, hungry motion, Keigo set it aside, exposing your moist, yearning folds to his ravenous gaze.

Hawks leaned in and took a long lick of your pussy from behind, which was already wet. "Wow, I love how these stockings cling so snugly to your soft, inviting thighs. It's making me absolutely crazy for ya, just looking at it. Not to mention your juicy ass, fuck. You're so goddamn sexy, princess."

You barked back, "Hey, save that shit for later. Shove that big motherfucking cock inside me now."

Takami's mischievous grin widened as he firmly grasped himself at the base of his cock. With precision, he aimed the tip at the entrance to your warmth and eased the head inside. Both of you released synchronized sighs, a harmonious chorus of pleasure filling the room. Keigo persisted, gently pushing deeper, gradually overcoming the subtle resistance offered by your velvety, tight embrace.

Keigo withdrew his member, leaving just the tip nestled between your quivering, heated folds. His strong hands found their place on your hips, fingers gripping firmly. As he lowered his gaze, a mesmerizing sight met him - his shaft adorned with the glistening traces of your arousal. With determination, he plunged back in, every inch of him sliding smoothly into the depths of your eager, snug intimacy.

The intense sensation that surged through you was almost overwhelming. It forced you to stifle a gasp, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you pressed your face into the soft, inviting embrace of the bedsheets.

When Hawks was fully immersed within your dripping core again, your head lifted, and a breathless plea escaped your lips. "Oh, yes… God, yes. Give me every inch of your fucking cock, Number Two Hero. Unleash your fervor, and claim me completely! do it!"

Keigo happily obliged as he wrapped his hands around your waist and began to slowly slam his cock in and out of you.

You started to moan and scream, your fingers tightly clutching the bedsheets into a ball around your fists. Initially, your cries of passion were soft and restrained, but as Hawks increased the speed and intensity of his thrusts, your subdued expressions of pleasure quickly escalated into an uproarious chorus of ecstasy.

Hawks thrust forcefully into you, eliciting unrestrained cries of pleasure from your lips. "Oh, goodness… Oh, goodness… YESSS!" Your fervent exclamations grew more intense with each electrifying moment. Finally, overwhelmed by the overwhelming sensations, you could no longer contain yourself. Your body convulsed, and you pushed forward, causing Hawks' eager cock to escape from your dripping core.

You breathed heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the intense rhythm of sex left you gasping for air. "Oh, goodness," you moaned, overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure of the experience, "It's incredible… almost too much… my body is aflame, fuck you, Hawks!"

Hawks gazed down at his throbbing, rigid member. It glistened with a luscious, creamy substance, with copious amounts of white essence cascading down his shaft and pooling at the base of his dick. The sight stirred an insatiable desire within him, compelling him to complete the passionate act. "Oh, you naughty shit." He couldn't contain his lust any longer and demanded, "What do you think you're doing?" With a primal urgency, he positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the bed behind you. Swiftly, he guided his engorged cock toward your eagerly awaiting, dripping core, plunging it deeply and fully in you, once again.

Once again, an unrestrained cry of pleasure escaped your lips as you were overwhelmed by the sheer size and girth that ignited every nerve in your body. Hawks, driven by unquenchable desire, didn't stop at merely holding your waist - instead, he entwined his arms with yours, securing them behind your back as if you were his willing captive. The force of his thrusts sent your body soaring, melding it with his. His hard member remained deeply embedded within you, maintaining a relentless, fervent rhythm of upward motions. This time, there was no escape, as Keigo's potent power held you firmly in its grasp, leaving no room for resistance.

"Ah…aaahhhh! N-no, it's too much. I'm going to fucking cum…I'm going to cum all over your fucking cock… Aaaahhh! Mmmmhmmm! I'm cumming. I'm cumming!!!"

The climax washed over you with such intensity that as Hawks gently released his grasp, your body responded involuntarily, convulsing in the aftershocks of pleasure. Your cries of ecstasy were muted by the sheets as you buried your face once more, the euphoric sensations lingering in the depths of your being. "Oh, my god!"

Hawks' movements grew increasingly erratic, his thrusts losing their precision as he approached the peak too. He too reached the climax, breathlessly panting as waves of unbearable pleasure washed over him, causing his wings to puff out behind him in a display of uncontrollable ecstasy. He slowly withdrew his dick; a pearl of his cum dripped down on the sheets between your legs, and he grunted at the sight.

Keigo allowed you to descend from the euphoric peak, savoring his skill in bringing you to such passionate release. He gazed down at his glistening member, now even more coated in your juicy essence than before. "That was just the first round. Time for round two," he declared, his desire and determination unmistakable.

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #mha smut #bnha smut #my hero academia smut #anime smut #smutty smut smut #smutty blurb #sinful sunday anon #divider by cafekitsune #hawks smut #keigo takami smut #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #hawks x reader smut #takami keigo #takami keigo smut

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