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flowersandbigteeth · 2 months

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Would you ever consider doing an Orc royalty arranged marriage? The Orcs have taken over a Human kingdom, because of their low birthrate (and because humans are universal breeders). The Orcs start scanning the Humans in their newly conquered territory for the most genetically compatible mates, which the royalty obviously gets the first pick of because the royal line is seen as the most important. Reader happens to be the most compatible with a member of the nobility, or maybe even the royal family, and so is married off to Orc King/warlord or the Warlord’s son/the crown prince/heir.

Yes! This one was so fun to write ^_^. I had an idea for a reader with a speech disability in my drafts, and this seemed like the perfect scenario to use it. It's a little long and very fluffy. Now that I've done this one, I kind of want to do one about Vola's romance, as well. (how they met, etc.)

Orc King (Golmad) x f reader with speech disability

Word Count: 8k

TW: there is a lot of orc fluff followed by nsfw orc smut, p in v sex, some light violence, bullying by family member, arranged marriage, size difference

“Straighten your back (Y/N),” your mother snapped as she adjusted the obnoxious pink bow on your head. “You must look perfect for the King.”

She wrinkled her nose at you.

“Considering your…deformity…You need to look as pretty as possible, so he won't toss you aside.”

“Oh, shut it, Mauria!” Your father chuckled, taking a thirsty sip of his wine. “A silent wife is a blessing! He’s gonna be thrilled!”

She gave him a withering look before turning back to you and fussing with a lock of hair. Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but as usual, you said nothing.

“Don't make that face, darling, smile!”

You pasted a fake smile on your lips, wishing you could be anywhere else. She licked her thumb and rubbed some stray blush off your cheek before she took a step back, looking you over.

“Wonderful! Like a little doll!”

“Oh look, the future Queen,” your perfect big sister Starla sneered as she wandered to the pile of olives at your father's side, popping one in her mouth. “You sure you don't want to fuck one of the stableboys before that Orc splits you in two? I’d hate for you to die before you have your first orgasm!”

She and your father cackled in laughter, but your mother frowned. Not because she insulted you, but because your mother was the pinnacle of decorum.

“Don't talk like that, Starla. It makes you sound cheap. You're going to be Queen soon. You need to learn grace and discretion.”

She snorted, grabbing your father's goblet of wine and taking a big gulp.

“When I'm Queen, Rotham will defeat all these miserable monsters and put their heads on pikes! Too bad (Y/N) won't live to see it after that awful creature snaps her like a twig!”

Your smile fell, and you looked away. As the oldest daughter, Starla should have been the offering to the King of the Orcs. But Starla was beautiful and brilliant and talented and popular and…blah blah blah. Your parents couldn’t waste her on the insurgent Orc king. The nobles all thought they’d make a comeback, stage a coup, and everything would go back as it should be. Starla would marry the human prince, Rotham, still in hiding, and become the real Queen.

You were the spare, a sacrifice to placate the enemy. Suffering a sickness as a child, your vocal cords were fused. You couldn't speak or make any noise other than whimpers and mewls. The snobby nobles your parents spent time with had labeled you damaged. When they bothered to speak to you, they acted as though you were dim, as well, which you were not. That was the only thing you surpassed Starla at, you were a very fast reader and quite good with math.

When the Orcs overthrew the former King, they said they were looking for fertile human wives. Humans bore children at twice the rate of the Orcs, so they’d taken the kingdom to secure their hold on the region with big, robust families.

You were all required to submit a blood sample to determine if you were compatible, and then you'd be assigned to an Orc husband. Your mother didn't dare submit Starla’s blood. She had to remain untouched for the human prince. So she sent yours and one of the maids. Yours was a match…to the King.

You all turned as an Orc dressed in fine livery appeared at the door.

“The King will see you now,” he said, then turned and left.

“Look how they dress themselves,” Starla whispered. “As if they're civilized! What a joke! He didn't even stay to escort us! Savages.”

Your parents chittered while you sucked in a deep breath. Your mother shoved you through the door, eager to get to the negotiations, her favorite part of any encounter.

“Back straight! Chin up! You are representing our family.”

You stumbled forward, following the direction the Orc butler had gone. You'd been in the castle before, attending court with your parents, but as you stepped into the large hall, you saw it had all changed.

The old tapestries had been torn down, replaced with large pelts of animals you'd never even seen before, their heads preserved and their eyes replaced with glass balls. The old wooden furniture was now twisted iron, probably made by the mountain dwarves, allies of the Orcs. They’d provided most of the weapons that led them to victory. The new flag, green with a bear and an axe pictured in silhouette, was hanging behind his throne.

Orcs lined the gallery, laughing and chattering, but they all fell silent as you entered. You took a thick breath, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other and ignore their curious eyes.

You heard Starla snort behind you as if this was all hilarious. Her disdain made you lift your chin. You would not go to the King as her joke.

Your first glimpse of your future husband from across the long hall made your eyes widen. Even from far away, he was massive. He must have been nine or ten feet tall and wide as an Ox.

On his broad shoulders, he wore a thick fur stole over a neat indigo shirt lined with the same cream fur. His thick legs were tucked in matching navy pants and imposing black boots. His outfit was surprisingly human. Behind him, massive shining weapons were arranged on a stand, just within arm's reach.

When you arrived at the end of the carpet leading you to him, you curtsied as you'd been taught.

You couldn't greet him verbally, so you waited for your mother to present you.

“Your majesty!” She crooned. “Please let me present my lovely daughter (Y/N), your perfect blood match!”

You tried not to tremble in front of him, but this close, he was so very large! His gold eyes passed over you, cool as cold metal. You’d never seen an Orc close-up before, and everyone had told you they were ugly, but the King in front of you was…not. No, he didn't look human, but his jaw was thick and sharp, and his eyes were a beautiful, rich color, like the setting sun.

Thick black hair fell over one shoulder, shaved to the skin on one side. A full bottom lip wrapped around large tusks that were more exciting than unappealing. His skin was flawless, olive green that reminded you of a mossy forest. Everything about his countenance screamed royalty, though he didn't wear a crown like a human King, his head tipped up, unafraid and confident. Instead, a chunky gold chain link necklace hung around his neck, with a large diamond set at the center, identifying him as the regent.

Your breath became labored as the reality that he would soon be your husband set in. You had no idea how you could be compatible. He was almost twice your height!

The King nodded for your mother to go on.

“Unfortunately, my dear daughter suffered a sickness in her youth that stole her voice, but she's otherwise healthy, untouched, and fertile. Fit for a crea- King.”

The casual discussion of your sexual history in front of a hundred-odd strangers made you blush and dip the chin you'd been trying so hard to keep up. Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek, and you hurriedly wiped it away, probably smearing blush across your cheek. Behind you, your sister snickered.

You peered back up at the King, wondering if he was disappointed. His eyes darted to her, and his frown deepened before they returned to you. Your heart sank, assuming he was comparing you to your stunning sister. Instead, he did the last thing you expected. He signed to you.

“Is your family always this tiresome?”

You released an audible gasp, one of the few sounds you could make, but signed back. Learning to read sign language was something your parents and sister never bothered to do. You’d learned from the kind chaplain at the church, one of the few places your mother allowed you to go alone. He thought you ought to have a way to communicate that didn’t involve scribbling notes on paper—your parents and pretty much everyone else preferred to communicate at you, not with you.

“I'm sorry if they displease you, Your Majesty.”

A wide smile spread on his lips as he signed back.

“You are incredibly polite for the daughter of such fools.”

You giggled, and your parent’s wide eyes danced between you.

“You don't have to see them again if you'd rather not.”

At that, your breath caught in your throat, and you chose your next thought carefully.

“Please don't kill them, Your Majesty.”

That drew a deep chuckle from his throat. It was rich and smooth, like chocolate.

“Since you asked so politely….but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

You gave him a tight nod, unsure if he was joking or not.

Your mother, not appreciating being out of the loop, cleared her throat.

“Since the two of you seem to be getting along so…familiarly…there's only the matter of the reward you promised. Of course, considering the status of the match, (Y/N) being the Queen and all…we expect a significant...investment.”

The Orcs promised to compensate every family for whichever daughter they took. It was the only way they could get the citizenry not to revolt at every turn. Making each daughter valuable in gold appealed to their sensibilities, especially after the draining war. A thick eyebrow shot up on the King’s face, and your mother continued with her pitch.

“You wouldn't want the family of the Queen living in squalor. Not because we are greedy, of course. Never that. We are incredibly humble. But we lost a great deal of our fortune during the war. What would the citizens think? You don't want them assuming you scraped some farm girl from the manure pile. We are a noble family and must exude a certain level of status, don't you agree? Especially considering her condition.”

Your eyes widened that your mother would be so bold, but his eyes shifted to her and narrowed. He rolled a finger in her direction, signaling her to go on.

“What exactly do you mean about her condition?”

Seeing an opening, your mother gave him a genteel smile.

“Well, we understand that (Y/N) will never take an active role in your rule- Her value lies in the heirs she can produce.”

“And isn't that a blessing?” Your father piped in. “A pretty little quiet wife is preferable, no? Worth twice a chatty wench!”

Your mother shot him a look, and swatted him.

“I'm just saying…” he muttered before she went on.

“What I mean is…people will assume things about her. Due to our status, the nobles all know she’s…not all there. I don't know how it is for Orcs, but the court here is…discerning.”

She turned to Starla.

“If my other daughter had been at all match, we would have sent her since she's a far superior candidate for Queen. Pity it didn't work out that way. In any case, I'm only thinking of your image.”

He glanced at you, signing.

“Are you sure about keeping them alive? I’m growing tired of this nattering, aren’t you?”

You giggled again, your mother shooting you a look full of vinegar.

“Killing them is probably not a good plan. My mother is made of tough stuff…I'm sure she’ll return as a noisy wraith and torment you about your posture,” you signed back.

He let out a roll of laughter, crooking his finger at you. Blushing, your eyebrows rose, but you took slow steps towards him. When you were within grabbing reach, he snapped you up and settled you on his lap. He was very warm compared to the lofty, cool hall and smelled like ginger and leather. You couldn’t help but stroke the shiny black hair that fell on your side of his shoulder. You didn’t mean to be so curious, but you’d never seen an Orc up close, and he was quite the specimen. His skin was smooth and velvety to the touch. Without thinking, you poked one of his tusks with your finger. He flashed you a smile, amused at your interest, before he returned to your mother.

“Since you are all so thoughtfully concerned with my image, it would be best to make you at home here, in the castle. You can get a taste of Orc society. You won't need any gold here. All your needs will be provided for.”

Your mouth fell open, trying to read his thoughts, but he only smirked at you.

“How…kind, your majesty,” your mother said, ever the diplomat.

Starla was not happy and stomped her foot.

“Mother! You can’t be serious! I can't be seen with these savages! Rotham will think I've been touched by beasts!”

Your hand clapped over your mouth, never thinking clever Starla would say something so brash.

The King’s face turned severe. His easy smile had tricked you into thinking he was a gentle giant, but his business face was terrifying. You were thankful it wasn't directed at you.

“Rotham? Our enemy's son, leading a band of traitorous supporters? Are you saying you are harboring a fugitive and dare to show your face in my court?”

Starla backpedaled as quickly as she could.

“Of course not, Your Majesty, it's…it’s…another Rotham…a man from the village…a…butcher.”

He relaxed. Which was odd to you because you knew he didn't believe her lie.

“Good. He should be pleased he has a chance with the Queen’s sister. You can invite him to dinner if you like.”

Starla’s face blanched, but she nodded obediently. He waved at one of the Orcs standing to the side.

“Show them to their quarters. We will convene for a meal to welcome our new Queen shortly.”

When they were gone, the King turned his attention back to you.

“Would you like the chef to prepare something special for your first dinner in the castle?”

You had no idea what to say. No one had ever asked your preference or opinion on anything.

“We should eat what is traditional. You are welcoming me into your family, Your Majesty. I’d like to know more about your customs.”

Though he seemed satisfied with your answer, he waved a dismissive hand at you.

“Don't call me Your Majesty. We're meant to be married. My name is Golmad.”

He fingerspelled the letters, then showed you the sign he used for it– the gestures for gold and bear, together. You returned the sign you used for your own name.

“May I ask a question, Golmad?”

“Anything. I don't want you to fear me, (Y/N).”

You organized your thoughts for a moment before you formulated your question.

“Why do you know sign language? I can hear; you could speak if it is easier.”

He looked you over, his expression warm.

“I learned for you. I wanted to speak to you in your language. I knew you were for me long before you took the test– over a year ago. The test is for your human sensibilities. Your people don't rely on instinct. Demanding the test makes it something they can understand. I know by scent your sister is compatible, as well. But I don't desire her.”

Your eyebrows popped up at that admission, and your heart thumped in your chest. You never expected such care from a battle-hardened Orc king.

“But how? I've never seen you before!”

He smirked.

“We Orcs are stealthier than you humans know. It's in our nature to hunt our match.”

You frowned, a vicious thought pricking your mind.

“Did you pick me because I'm silent?”

His eyes narrowed, but the expression they held was not cruel.

“You are not silent. You speak differently, but you are not a doll without thoughts. Your mother is wrong. You are the best candidate to be Queen. If I had chosen your sister, do you think she would have appeared before me as you did?”

He patted your chest, not to fondle you, but over your heart.

“You are a survivor, brave, and virtuous. I trust you at my side.”

You gasped, feeling more seen than ever before, but also the weight of the responsibilities on your shoulders.

“Now, we must prepare you for Orc society.”

He tugged the big bow on your head, tossing it on the floor when he'd pulled it loose.

“An Orc Queen will not be dressed like a puppy.”

A smile spread across his lips, and he stood, so large he could carry you with very little effort. As you passed the Orcs lining the hall, they bowed to the two of you, giving you the first taste of what it meant to be Queen.

The bedroom he brought you to was very different from a human King’s bedroom. It had more plants than furniture, large leafy vegetation planted in a generous selection of iron pots. His bed reminded you of a nest, a wide pallet layered with thick furs in colors ranging from white to rust red to pitch black. There wasn't a spot you could stand in the room where a weapon was not in reach. Axes and swords were mounted on the walls, and iron stands on the floor. Daggers of varying sizes seemed splayed haphazardly on every horizontal surface.

Golmad set you down and began stripping off the clothes he wore. Your cheeks burned as he revealed thick muscle after thick muscle, but you were also a bit frightened. Was he going to take you now? His eyes met yours, which had to be as large as saucers.

“I only wore this to speak with your parents. There is wisdom in accommodating humans occasionally. They see us as monsters. Dressing like them makes them more comfortable, but now that you are mine, they will need to grow accustomed to our culture.”

You nodded, forcing your mouth closed, and he stopped undressing when he got to his pants. The bulky planes of his chest were plenty of eye candy. You weren't sure if you were ready for the rest.

He let out a loud call, and two Orc women appeared at the door, holding folded stacks of fur and leather.

“These are my sisters Vola and Cayenne. Don't mind their doting. Orc families are very affectionate.”

They gave you a polite bow.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” they signed together after they’d deposited the fabrics on a table. When Golmad stepped out of the way, they circled you with big smiles, patting your hair and pinching your cheeks as if you were a new kitten.

“She’s so cute!”

“I didn't believe she would be so tiny, but look at her. Precious!”

Cayenne spun you around, examining your form. You weren’t exactly tiny in human terms, but compared to them, you were short stack.

“We must choose something daring!”

Vola nodded.

“Like a little wildcat!”

You signed to Golmad, a little surprised at their sweetness. They even learned sign language for you!

“The nobleman said the Orc women resent us and that they'll rip us to bits for stealing their men.”

He chuckled.

“That's nothing but propaganda. They want babies just as much as the males. A stout, fertile, submissive human husband is ideal for caring for their pups. Your people are obsessed with the purity of their women. We never had to organize a silly test for the males. The Orcesses just bop their mate on the head and drag him home.”

He gave you a conspiratorial grin, his gold eyes glittering.

I have a surprise for you at dinner. I think you’ll find it quite funny.

You blinked, absorbing that fact, but decided to tuck it away for now and focus on what was happening in front of you.

“It was kind of your sisters to learn sign language.”

He looked slightly bashful at that comment, his green cheeks burning a bit darker.

“Everyone is required to learn. Your staff will speak to you in your own language, not at you. Though I initially ordered it to accommodate you, we've since found tremendous value in practicing the skill.“

You didn't have time to think much more about it as the Orcesses started stripping your heavy dress off. Your cheeks burned as Golmad’s eyes roved over your bare skin, an appreciative glint in them.

Vola wrapped a soft, asymmetrical skirt of spotted fur around your waist, and Cayenne pulled a leather crop top over your breasts. Then she secured a thick belt on top of your hips. She turned and started picking up and putting down daggers. Once she’d decided on the right one, she sheathed it in its stop at your side.

“This one is perfect for you,” she explained—”light and sharp. You don't need might to wield a blade. Only speed and endurance.”

She patted it.

“We’ll help you train. Every Orc does morning training together before breakfast. We are a communal people. Training is another way to reinforce community. We hash out our disagreements on the training mat, and by the time we sit for our meal we are all on the same page. Our strength is not just our size. We win wars because our bonds are unbreakable.”

You nodded, feeling very special to be trusted with their secrets.

They finished the outfit with fur-lined boots and a diamond necklace matching Golmad’s. Cayenne produced a makeup stick, drawing a long line across your nose from one cheek to the other and vertical lines from the center of your eyes down to your chin.

“This is traditional for the Queen. We don’t wear crowns like your people. These markings identify your position at special events. When you are officially married, there will be tattoos and you won’t need the makeup anymore.”

You blinked at her, wondering what your mother would say to that. An Orc appeared in the doorway, not dressed in human clothes. Instead, he wore leather pants, and was shirtless with an axe strapped to his back.

He spoke as he signed, showing his respect for you.

“Dinner is ready, Your Majesty.”

You swallowed deeply as you were about to meet your future subjects, wearing less clothing than you’d ever worn in public before. Your arms and stomach were bare, as well as one leg where the skirt split. Golmad scooped you up and plopped you on his shoulder as he carried you to the dinner hall. You could hear the raucous laughter of Orcs celebrating, but when you walked through the door, all were silent and bowed in unison.

It was difficult to find them amid the massive Orcs, but you finally spotted your family seated at the long table at the right of the King and Queen’s seats. Starla was dressed to impress in a low-cut gown emphasizing her assets, though she looked disgusted at the Orcs around her. When your mother caught sight of you, her mouth opened, and she covered it in horror as if they’d done something terrible to you.

Golmad waved a hand, and the Orcs all took their seats at the table. As he got comfortable, arranging you on his lap, his sister Vola sat down with a familiar man on her lap.

“Rotham?!” your sister screeched. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

You felt Golmad’s body shudder underneath you as he chuckled. Vola shot a glare at Starla, petting Rotham’s head. His cheeks darkened just a bit, but he snuggled against her ample breasts.

“Don’t speak so familiarly with my mate,” Vola spat.

Starla’s eyes looked like they might pop out of her head.

“Rotham, how could you? We were supposed to be married! I was supposed to be Queen! How can you lay with that…monster?! What about your people? YOUR COUNTRY?”

The table had grown silent as everyone watched the drama play out.

“Vola is my mate,” Rotham said, looking down his nose at her. “I love her! Why would I want to sit on a throne waiting for someone pretending to be my friend to stab me in the back and fuck my wife when I can stay cozy and safe tending Vola’s hearth?”

He shook his head as if he were knocking something unpleasant out of it.

“Why do I have to be King, anyway?! Just because I'm a man? You know what, Starla? You've never once asked what I wanted! Do you realize that? You don't care about what I want, only that I fulfill what fantasy you have about conquering the Orcs and obtaining a sparkly trinket. You'd be happy to stand on the sidelines like a swooning maiden, spending money you haven't earned on meaningless crap, while I risk my life and limbs for a battle I don't even care about!”

Starla looked incensed, shocked, and confused by his position.

“But she's a monster, Rotham. The enemy!”

His brow drew and jabbed a finger at her.

“Don’t you dare call my mate a monster; she is no enemy! It’s cruel and disrespectful. Vola loves me for me! She likes my cooking! She kisses me when I get hurt! She listens to my fears and helps me accomplish my goals! My goals! Not a bunch of spoiled noble's goals.

I'm warning you, don't provoke her. I don’t love you, but I don’t want to see you harmed, either.”

His smile met Vola’s before his eyes dipped to her body, looking quite pleased with his wife.

Starla stood up, knocking over her chair as her sense dissolved with her dream of becoming Queen. The real Starla came out, the snotty girl who used to throw tantrums when she didn’t get a toy she wanted at the Goddesses’ Supper.

“Kissing your boo-boos like a sniveling child? Chasing frivolous goals? What the fuck are you talking about? You are royalty! You have a responsibility to the country! To me! What could possibly be more appealing than being the King?”

Rotham huffed.

“I want to be a baker! That's all I ever wanted to do, and because I was born my father's child, I never even had the option to try. My parents planned out my life, then advisors, then generals, and even you. I could never do what I wanted. I was scolded if I ever went near the kitchen, even to bake in my spare time! It was hell!”

Starla snorted.

“A baker?! That's work for common folk! It's beneath you! You’re throwing away the crown to bake cookies?! That’s pathetic! Stop this nonsense right now!”

Vola growled.

“Do not speak to my mate that way. Rotham deserves to be as free as any of us. He's an excellent baker. You're just sour he's not putting himself in harm's way to elevate your status!”

Starla's eyes narrowed on Vola.

“How dare you think, you, a filthy beast, are worthy of a Prince?! MY PRINCE?! You’re nothing but an ugly ogre!”

You felt the tension rise as every Orc leaned in, watching what would happen next. Vola gave her a cool smile.

“Do you mean to challenge me for my mate, little girl?”

“He’s not your mate! He’s mine! MINE!”

Golmad held up a hand.

“The human has declared an official challenge for Vola’s mate. Take her to the ring.”

Starla screamed as an Orc picked her up and awkwardly carried her out of the room. Everyone else at the table followed, including your parents, whispering between each other.

The battle ring was a simple dirt circle with thick ropes marking its outline. By the time you and Golmad arrived, Starla had been placed in the center, and someone had armed her with a thin rapier, probably the only weapon in the arsenal against the wall she could lift.

You could see the terror on her face when Vola set Rotham down next to you and entered the ring, cracking her knuckles.

“Wait! Wait! This is madness!” Starla screamed, realizing there was no chance she would win this fight.

Golmad waved her screams away.

“In our tradition, a mate challenge is binding. You should not have spoken so carelessly if you did not want to fight. You must follow through. Prepare yourself! Begin!”

Your heart raced, wondering if you should do something to save your sister. Golmad caught your worried expression and signed to you with a small smile.

“She won’t kill her. Death’s not necessary to teach her a lesson.”

You let out a breath of relief, leaning into Golmad’s warm body. The two competitors circled one another…rather, Vola circled Starla, and Starla looked for an exit. The Orcs packed tightly around the ring, and there was no gap to escape. When she realized there was no way out, she raised her weapon with two hands as best as possible.

“Stay back, beast! I’ll cut you!”

Vola laughed, darting forward so fast she was only a green blur. You heard a crack, and Starla smacked the dirt, blood spraying across her pretty dress. Mercifully, Vola didn’t knock her out. Starla’s whining voice drifted up from the ground.

“My nose! She broke my fucking nose!”

Vola snatched her weapon up and pointed the blade at her throat.

“Do you concede?”

Starla’s eyes got big. She focused on the tip of the rapier and nodded.

To make her point, Vola adjusted her grip and stabbed the sword into the ground next to Starla’s head. A clump of her hair fluttered to the ground beside her.

Leaning in so close to her that their noses almost touched, Vola pinned her with an icy glare.

“The next time you raise your voice to my mate, I will not miss, little girl.”

Golmad lifted a hand, ending the fight.

“Vola has defended her claim! To dinner!”

The Orcs cheered, but Rotham cheered the loudest. When she returned to him, he squeezed her biceps, looking up at her with stars in his eyes.

“You're so strong! You were fast, too, like a beautiful bolt of lightning!”

“Rotham, please…” Starla whimpered from the dirt, hoping to get sympathy from him.

He only frowned and turned away. Vola scooped him up, swinging him around while she kissed him.

“I'll always protect you and your honor, my darling,” she said. “To my dying breath.”

They and the other Orcs piled out of the room, leaving your parents to help Starla with her bloody nose. As Golmad carried you out, you heard them speaking to her as your mother helped her to her feet.

“Don’t be difficult, Starla. We need to return to the table. Buck up.”

“Are you insane? My nose is broken, and I’m covered in blood! I’m not going back there!”

For once, you heard your father sound stern.

“You got yourself into this foolishness, Starla. If Rotham is not leading a rebellion, we must find favor with our new King. We cannot be absent from (Y/N)’s dinner. It would be disrespectful, and we don't have the money to live up to the standards we're used to without her grace! Living here is our best option. I’m not going to be tossed on the street to defend your ego.”

When Golmad set you on his lap at the head of the table, Starla sulkily took her place beside your mother, a napkin on her nose to slow the bleeding. When she did look up from her plate, it was to glare across the table at Vola and Rotham, caught up in their own banter between lovers.

Golmad cleared his throat to call everyone to attention, and the noise quickly quieted.

He signed as he spoke, so everyone could understand.

“We come together for this meal to welcome my lovely Queen (Y/N) to our fold!”

He glanced down at your parents, his face a bit smug.

“Family and community are a core value of our kind. I also welcome (Y/N)’s parents and sister to our castle. Please do your best to help them grow accustomed to our traditions.

This night marks a step forward in the blending of human and Orc society, and as I have found my match, I wish you all your own mates so that, from the wounds of war, another generation of both our peoples can flourish! Let’s enjoy the bounty of this land together!”

That was the end of the speech, as Orcs carried out massive dishes of roasted meat, vegetables, and golden-crusted pies and arranged them on the table.

Happy Orcs were loud and raucous, apparently enjoying giving toasts. Everyone guzzled ale as they tipped their glasses to speeches of triumphs in war, hunting their new mates, and lots of well wishes to your future children.

Numerous Orcs lined up to kiss your hand and declare their devotion to your protection. Meanwhile, your parents focused their energy on courting Golmad’s favor, complimenting the food, the music, and whatever else they could think of that might endear them to him. Your mother even gave you a tight compliment on your skirt.

While you tried to focus on greeting your subjects, your mind wandered to the warm body underneath you. Golmad’s firm, barrel chest brushed your arm with every deep breath. The bulging muscles of his thigh were like sitting on a stone chair covered in bulky leather, but those features aside, your absolute favorite part of his physique was his husky stomach. It was firm and toned from daily training but thick from eating well. Leaning into it was quite comfortable and cozy.

Everything about him was so big, including the enormous shaft, you could feel at your back. Maybe it was the wine, but your initial fear of it had slowly changed to curious interest as the night progressed. What would it be like? How would it feel inside of you? What would it taste like? The lewd thoughts were incredibly distracting. You found yourself wiggling your bottom to brush it without thinking. Every time you did, you felt a low rumble in his chest no one else could hear above the merrymaking.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked when there was finally a break in the production, and you could speak.

You nodded and gave him a wan smile.

“Your court is delightful. It's just…

When you paused his focus on you became intense.

What's wrong? You can tell me, I won't be offended.”

You looked over the celebration, considering how your day played out compared to what you expected.

“A lot has happened today…between the meeting and the fight…I'm a little tired, to be honest. I want to keep up with your people…but…”

His gold eyes gleamed with predatory interest, making heat swell in your core.

“I have a remedy for that. Orc celebrations take a bit of time to get used to. They'll all be up till dawn.”

He stood before you could ask anything more, willing the Orcs to quiet down.

“My Queen and I will retire for the evening! Enjoy the food and drink. Show our guests how Orcs celebrate!”

A happy cry rang out, and the party started again as Golmad carried you out of the room. Your heartbeat thumped in your chest, realizing this was the first time the two of you would be alone for any length of time. He was so large he could do anything to you, and that thought had become far more exciting than frightening.

When you arrived at his bedroom, he gently set you down on a table and turned his attention to starting a fire in the fireplace to warm the cool room.

You swung your legs over the edge of the tall table, watching the muscles in his back flex as he loaded the hearth with logs. When he turned, he pulled off his boots and tucked them in a corner. Finally, he approached you, his footsteps silent for someone so large. His eyes moved over your body as if deciding what part to engage first.

“Do you think a back rub would help you relax? It’s been an eventful day.”

You nodded, your heart skipping at the thought of his big hands on you. He tugged your boots off and set them next to his before settling the two of you on his bed, with you on his lap.

You let out a long moan as his thick fingers pressed gently into the tense knots in your shoulder. His breath fanned across the nape of your neck, causing a pleasurable shiver to snake up your spine. Since his hands were busy, he spoked to you, his head dipping close to your ear.

“I didn’t have a moment to tell you how beautiful you looked, today. In your human clothes, but especially so in ours.”

You hummed a thank you, a sizzling tingle vibrating in your ear. As his thumbs slid down the curve of your waist, you realized he could circle both hands around your middle. His thumbs worked the knots away, but his other fingers smoothed over your bare skin.

He seemed to get distracted by your arms, shifting his attention to one. He measured the diameter of your wrist with his thumb and forefinger.

“You are delicate. I feel fortunate to have someone so sweet to protect and love.”

At the word love, your cheeks burned, and you let out a quick mewl. You heard him chuckle behind you. He spun you around to face him, putting his hand lightly around your neck. Your breath came short, and your eyes widened at him, not sure what he was doing.

“You are a precious blessing. I’ll never hurt you, (Y/N). If something hurts, pinch me, and I’ll know to stop, okay?”

You nodded, relaxing just slightly. With his other hand, he tipped your head to the side, and the fingers around your neck massaged the muscles that had gotten tight from gritting your teeth. Your eyelashes fluttered as all of the tension slipped away. When you opened them again, Golmad’s eyes met yours, flickering as if they were lit from within and drawing you forward.

He loosened his grip on your neck, and you pushed yourself up on your knees, pressing your small hands into his chest as you leaned up to him.

For a moment, he looked surprised, but his eyes tracked yours as you looked over his features, pulled to his nicely shaped lips. He seemed to have no intention to push you to be intimate with him, but he was to be your husband. You were curious about him. You sucked in a quick breath before you tipped your head forward and brushed your lips against his. That’s what a wife was supposed to do, no?

He let out a deep, rumbling grumble you felt between your legs. His big hand swept you up by the small of your back, while the other cradled your face. The next time your lips came together was a hungry, needy kiss. Your hand wrapped around his tusk, sliding over the smooth surface as you explored with your lips.

You’d never kissed before, so you weren’t entirely sure what to do beyond the first taste. Pulling back you looked at him through the veil of your lashes, cheeks burning and lips swollen.

“Was that good?” You asked.

His eyebrows rose slightly, and he gave you a gentle nod.

“Is this your first time kissing?”

You looked away, embarrassed at your inexperience, but a thick finger pushed your chin back in his direction.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I assumed the “untouched” bit of your mother’s introduction was a production. I mean…look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

You frowned, and he looked contrite.

“I didn’t mean…to question your purity…I only meant-”

He huffed, and you were surprised to see a confident Orc King flustered by you. When his gaze met yours, it was open and vulnerable.

“You’re so much smaller than me. I don’t want to scare you.”

You searched his face for a moment.

“You don’t scare me. I want to please you. Will you show me how?”

His cheeks darkened to a rich forest, and his mouth fell open. You watched his pupils widen, and he nodded, eyes drifting over your body. You pushed yourself up on your knees, kissing him again, hoping to encourage whatever might come next. He groaned, thick hands wrapping around your waist.

Feeling bolder, you let your hands move over his bare shoulders and gently trace every plane of his chest. He shuddered when your fingers slipped over a nipple, so you tried it again, earning you another rich groan. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting you for the first time, and he hummed into your mouth.

Beneath you, the shaft you’d already thought felt large suddenly got much firmer and larger. Curious, you gingerly let your fingers slip down his chest, palming him through his pants. A deep rumble vibrated his chest, and you mewled as he suddenly flipped you under him. You looked up at his massive body looming over you, panting.

His eyes ate up your skin, glowing with appreciation. A fingertip traced your collarbone down the V of the little crop top you wore. It took only a flick of his fingers to rip it in half. You gasped, chest heaving. He met your gaze, searching for any indication you didn’t want him to go on.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded quickly, your nipples pebbling now exposed to the air. He smirked, dipping his head to press a kiss into the top of one breast and then the other before he moved lower. Pleasure you weren’t used to was intoxicating as he licked and sucked your nipples. Your breaths were heaving, and your thoughts scrambled.

Though thick, his fingers were nimble, unbuckling the belt at your waist and stripping the skirt off you.

Instinctively, you looked away, never having been so exposed in your life. A grunt brought your eyes back to him, and Galmod squeezed your cheek before he spoke.

“It’s my job to please you. May I?”

Your nod was far more enthusiastic than you intended, and he grinned. A thumb teased a nipple, while his thick tongue traced your slit. A breathy mewl slipped out, and he glanced up without pulling away. His gaze was intent. Every hunting instinct he possessed focused on making sure you were enjoying what he had to give you. His tongue dipped inside of you the first time anything or anyone had touched you there. Your back arched, and your eyelashes fluttered. Your hand instinctively clutched his hair, your hips bucking into his mouth as wetness flooded your channel.

He chuckled, the added sensation making you whimper. Though your flavor was appealing, Golmad had a second reason for filling you with his tongue. He also stretched you, preparing you to take something much larger. When you were eagerly rocking your hips to create more friction, he slipped out of you, turning his attention to your clit. Your irises crossed, your first real orgasm exploding between your legs and shooting through every nerve in your body. You were practically drooling as he slipped two fingers inside, bringing you right back where you started, needy and wanting.

He stopped for a moment, cupping your chin to get your attention.

“Do you want more?”

Your fingers were shaking as you responded.

“Yes…please?”

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing you deeply before he rocked back on his knees.

“It will hurt for just a second, then it will feel good…but if you want me to stop, just pinch me. I’ll stop.”

You nodded quickly, wiggling your hips to entice him. You wanted whatever he planned on next. His gaze was ravenous, and you could tell staying in control of his instincts was work, but you trusted him, which made no sense since you'd only met. Something about him made you feel safe and protected, maybe the way he seemed so worried about hurting you.

Your eyes popped as he slipped out of his pants. A thick cock bobbed in front of him. You’d never seen something so viscerally sexy, his bulky green body hovering over you, a thick hand fisting a massive shaft. A zip of sheer excitement made you quake. You felt a little mad. His cock had to be too big for you, but you wanted more than anything to take it. A fresh wave of slick leaked from inside of your spasming cunt.

Your legs looked tiny in his hands as he spread them. He rubbed the large, round head of his cock against your slit, watching you whimper and beg for him with your eyes.

Entering you maddeningly slow, you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate him. It felt good, the strain feeling more decadent than painful. There was no way you could fit his entire length inside, but he didn't seem concerned, gripping the base for more control. His fingers circled your clit, and you hardly felt a slight pinch through a veil of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he filled you completely.

When your gazes met, you could see the concentration on his face, his brow drawn, and his jaw locked. You nodded to him, asking him to go on, telling him that you wanted it.

Pulling back, his hips snapped forward pushing a high-pitched mewl past your lips. He watched you, looking for any pain, but whatever he saw just egged him on. The concerned expression melted to a smug smirk, and he picked up the pace, heavy thrusts jerking your body against the soft furs.

His long fingers wrapped around your neck, holding you in place while his strokes grew more intense.

“That’s it, you can take it,” he groaned, his husky voice tickling your ears.

You were amazed at your own body, your slippery fluids coating his shaft and allowing him to grind in and out of you despite his size. Though you could feel the strength in his hands, he only applied light pressure to your throat, making your heart skip. He could crush you easily, yet despite the rapture in his eyes, he held you like a baby dove.

The tension in your thighs relaxed, your legs opening for him far wider than you even knew they could to accommodate his big body.

The room filled with the sound of your sweet mewls and his guttural grunts.

“So good,” he drawled, words slurring. “You were made for me.”

You wanted to sign, “you, as well,” but your brain was mush.

His cock battered you in just the right spot, while his free hand never left your clit, pinching and circling it until your eyes crossed and you were drooling. You soared, high on his musky scent, your body sparkling in ways you’d never felt before. Pleasure licked the tips of your nerves, zipping up and down your spine like lightning bolts. The only thing you could do was hold on tight to the hand circling your throat, your nails digging into the sinewy flesh.

Your mother had made it seem like sex was a chore a wife did to please her husband and keep him from messing around. You had no idea it could be like this. Golmmad’s gold eyse lit as your wet cunt spasmed around him. A wet rush of bliss washed over you like the tide tugging you under. Your scream pierced the heady air as you reached your peak, spongey walls sucking him deeper.

It was one thing to cum underneath him, but the look on his face as your body clamped around him, wet slick coating his cock, was sheer euphoria. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as he roared his finale. Making a large, powerful Orc king fall apart made you feel powerful and desirable in a way you’d never been allowed to feel before. It was a high that couldn’t be matched. You wanted to do this again and again until neither of you could walk or think.

You felt his shaft grow impossibly harder, twitching inside you as he emptied himself into you in searing ropes. The ragged, stiff thrusts to seek his pleasure pulled another lingering orgasm from your pussy. You felt tears slipping down your cheeks as he slammed his hips into yours one last time.

For a moment, the two of you just panted together, his head dipping down just an inch or so above yours. You felt a thick thumb trace your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“I-I didn’t hurt you?” he whispered, and you forced your eyes open so he wouldn’t panic.

A small smile and a slight jerk of your head told him no, you were just fine. He peeled himself off of you, sinking down into his bed and pulling you onto his lap. His fingers played lazily in your hair as he caught his breath.

“What do you think?” he asked, his tone raw and vulnerable.

You propped your head on one fist, elbows resting on his chest, while you wound a lock of dark hair around a finger, thinking of how to answer him. You felt his breath halt, waiting eagerly for your answer. Finally, you pulled your legs under you, sitting cross-legged on top of him so you could use your hands.

“Can we do that again in the morning?”

His eyebrows jumped before his lips stretched into a broad smile, responding with his free hands.

“Of course, as many times as you like.”

You grinned and yawned, plastering your body on top of his. His warmth sunk into your bones, and sleep came easily. The last thing you felt before you dozed off was his hand stroking your hair as he muttered thanks to the goddess for bringing you to him.

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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Vampire Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcanons

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Implications of Degrading, Aftercare, Feeding, Jealous Simon, Possessive Simon, Fluff, Mentions of Blood, Petnames, Self-Conscious Simon, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost is one of the oldest vampires to inhabit the planet, and as a result, has tremendous self-control when it comes to feeding.

He’ll only feed from you if you let him, and he won’t feed from anyone or anything else.

The thought of tasting another person’s blood repulses him. Makes him feel dirty.

After all, you’re the only one for him, so why would he enact such an intimate encounter with someone else ?

He’ll get extremely jealous if you let someone else feed from you, btw.

Even if it’s a dire situation and it’s someone he knows well – Soap, for instance – he’ll struggle to not let his mind wander, to contemplate whether you enjoy having Johnny attached to your throat like a leech.

Sulky vampire boyfriend hours !!!

You’ll have to reassure him that he’s still your favourite (and only !) “Big teddy boy~”.

He secretly (shamefully) loves feeding from you.

And I don’t mean in just a romantic sense; I’m talking full-on primal instinct.

Whenever he has you pinned under him and is taking you, he can smell how close you are to your end by the scent of your blood.

And he waits, calling you every whorish synonym under the sun, smoothing over your tears with promises of love that you already know until your body gives out and you wail, back arching into Simon’s chest as his fangs sharpen and plunge into the juncture of your neck.

Your blood is a fine delicacy, but in this moment, during the pinnacle of mortal euphoria, it is exquisite.

He doesn't drain you; just takes what he knows your body can take.

And despite how rough he can be with you, when there’s blood – your blood –involved, he’s nothing but gentle.

His favourite part of the evening is when he pulls you into his arms and a trickle of blood runs down your chest and he gets to run his tongue along it; a red mercy.

Simon’s big on aftercare btw.

He’s not letting you get out of bed for at least a full day afterwards; not until you’re fully healed.

The longer a vampire goes without feeding, the more of their true form appears.

It takes energy to keep his human skin intact, so if Ghost hasn’t been drinking, his features become gradually more monstrous as the days go by.

He’ll wear his mask when this starts to happen.

He loves you, trusts you with every ounce of his existence. But he doesn’t want you seeing him. The real him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him that you love him “Regardless of what’s underneath your pretty boy face !” – he’s not letting you see it.

Often, your reassurances turn into quick ‘self-love’ sessions in the nearest, most convenient spot, ending with Simon gasping and whining beneath your touch.

He knows his vampire form isn’t easy to look at. A man’s heart once gave out the second he caught sight of Simon without his human face on.

And he doesn’t want that for you.

He just loves you too much.

Speaking of; he’s always hinting towards turning you into a vampire.

Like, constantly.

He brings it up at some of the most inopportune moments – like when you’re cooking dinner or trying to

Once, to shut him up, you told him (jokingly) that he’d have to “Marry me before I let you turn me !”

And that put a dangerous little idea in Simon’s head.

Now, he’s always trying to find the perfect opportunity to propose to you – to turn you.

He’s not stupid, he knows that tone in your voice meant you weren’t being entirely serious.

But it gave him hope. A rare commodity in the world of an undead.

He has about ten engagement rings hidden in your shared home, each having been tweaked and perfected to be as timeless as possible.

You’re the most wonderful human there is, in Simon’s eyes, so you deserve the best.

So be on the lookout for that faraway look in his eye as he peers into a future he doesn’t think can come soon enough; one where your love will outlive all those that have come before and after.

A life where, for the first and last time, Simon has a constant in his life.

You.

Domestic Vampire Boyfriend !!!

He’ll cook for you whenever you ask him to, no questions asked.

Though, he won’t be handling any garlic.

Or be going near you when you’ve eaten it.

Soap constantly tries to bring up embarrassing stuff Simon’s done.

Which is why he’s always at your side whenever the 141 come over.

He can’t risk johnny jeopardising the slick, suave, sophisticated image of a loving boyfriend (and stone-cold killer) he’s cultivated for himself. Well, for you, mainly.

“Ey, did’ya know that once when Si and I were just wee vampires, that he almost set a whole town on fire because he forgot he burns up in the sun–”

“That’ll do, Johnny.”

“Aww, it’s okay, Sim-Sim,” you say. “You’re still my favourite little leechie in the whole world !”

He is going to get bullied by his associates after that, but if it’s to hear your sweet praises, he’ll gladly tolerate it.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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carionto · 7 months

Text

Humans really like space wildlife

As Humanity integrates itself within the Galactic Coalition ever further, trade and travel between Sol and neighboring member systems is growing at exponential rates. In particular, their interest in the native wildlife of other planets is the most widely expanding sector for tourism and commerce.

Even though it is also the most heavily regulated and restricted one, Humans, who typically display a desire to subvert the normal procedures to expedite any process they can, for this they are surprisingly willing and eager to fill in all the necessary paperwork and spend hours upon days making sure they follow and adhere to all the requirements to import some of these creatures.

While such level of determination is not uncommon for new member species who discover a certain non-native creature or something that to the respective natives is commonplace but for them is the pinnacle of exotic, the variety of requests made by Humans is nearly as great as the entire list of known fauna species. And the reasons listed on the forms are even more diverse:

"That's a unicorn! I've always dreamed of having a unicorn and you're telling me there's a dozen subspecies?! Yes, please!!!"

"After reviewing their behavior, this bear-sized fluff-ball is the perfect cat I've always wanted, but couldn't because of allergies. I'll treat them with love and care, my life is incomplete without this fella."

"Tiny. Elephant-duck. Want."

"Our company was looking for a mascot, and these six-legged spindly beaver-crabs are perfect. Here's our mission statement and prepared accommodations for a flock."

"They all said I hallucinated the lizard sasquatch when I was on that acid trip, but now I'll show 'em. It's real. I knew it all along!"

"Aww, these baby puppies are so adorable (referring to the four meter, 800kg Fanged Widowmaker of Abyss Valley predator). My kids were looking through your alien picture books and instantly fell in love with these ones."

And so on. At first we had to reject quite a few, mainly because half of them were deadly beasts from Deathworlds that are almost impossible to capture in the first place. Then the Human officials informed us that, while they will try to stop it from happening, if we don't make importing and adopting even the most dangerous animals in the known Galaxy reasonably possible for them with Human help and expertise in the field, some Humans will set up illegal smuggling rings to "fill the market gap" as they said. Historically, they explained, that causes more problems and expenses than just handling it through official channels.

Reluctantly we were persuaded and have set up a new organization to quell this, apparently, unquenchable Human pack bonding condition. Even if said pet can kill them. We think, as horrible as it may be, that for some that is part of the appeal. Even the ones that breathe out literal poison.

"We'll wear a mask around them. This wendigo-like one is too cute to not get belly rubs."

Said the OFFICIAL Human Representative of a monstrosity that can only be described as the living incarnation of countless teeth, fangs, claws, vivid seizure inducing iridescent feathers, and a body that extends from a inconspicuous ambush pose to a fully 8 meter tall six limbed nightmare machine of Death!

#humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #carionto #aliens are cute #pet the predator

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tojipie · 4 months

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Toji comforting a sick reader (seasonal cold-ish?) he’s not very good at it,but you can tell he’s trying by making tea and stuff and being softer then he normally is.Idk I just need comforting Toji 😭

content: established relationship, airhead toji, fluff

toji’s definition of being sick was a little unorthodox, to put it mildly.

colds were just not a thing in zenin household, especially for the black sheep of the family. if you were “sick” that meant being you were dead or nearing death. not a sore throat and some congestion.

toji would have gotten a slap across the face for skipping out on a day's work because he had the sniffles, “the weak link” as his dad liked to put it.

being anything except the pinnacle of health was out of the question growing up, and with time, his association of what “being sick” was gravitated further and further away from what was normal.

so when you first come down with a cold, the poor guy doesn’t even clock it at first.

toji watches you emerge from your shared bedroom at an impressive 2 o’clock in the afternoon, eyes rimmed red with a throw blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

“sleep good?” he asks, clearly amused. the pounding in your head nearly drowns out the question. not wearing a jacket in 30° weather for the sake of showing off your outfit last night was probably not the greatest idea.

you don’t entertain his teasing as you flip the electric kettle on, grabbing 2 tea bags from the overhead pantry. something to soothe your raging tonsils. toji cracks open a bottle of water for you, passing it over with a hum.

the sip of water you try to down does nothing to help your sore throat. an ugly, phlegmy cough wracks your chest without warning, sending you into a doubled-over position.

toji pats your back lovingly as air fights to re-enter your lungs. the force of the coughs rubs your throat even more raw, if that was even possible.

“shit, you okay?” he asks, still unaware as ever.

you unflatteringly blow your nose into a tissue before answering him, cringing at how dry your lips still feel.

“something like that,” you mumble. voice raw and crackly. “do you know where the thermometer is?”

toji looks around from his spot at the counter, scratching the back of his head.

“no, why? you overheated or something?”

you stand there dumbfounded for about a second before firing back. overheated? you felt like death itself.

“i have a cold you moron.”

his mouth slowly parts into an “oh” as the realization washes over him. feeling under the weather was probably a bigger deal to you than it was for someone raised in what was essentially a prison.

“oh, baby,” he mumbles, reaching toward you with outstretched arms. a firm palm rubs between the plains of your shoulder bones, warming you from the outside. “feeling under the weather huh?” he coos.

you nod, already dozing off in his warm embrace. a shrill beep from the electric kettle lets you know that your water is ready.

toji quickly puts a hand out, ushering behind him.

“go back to bed sweet girl i’ll make your tea.”

bonus thought: he has to remake the tea twice because he dips the bags into the still-boiling water and they explode every time

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forlix · 3 months

Text

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・767 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・felix x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, established relationship, they're in love your honor, pt. 2 of me being very normal about paris lix

𝟬𝟮:𝟮𝟭 — The stars hang over your heads like rice wine dripping into a navy basin. Paris sprawls over your shoulders like a stretching sphinx. Yet the world, in all its rare, tranquil beauty, does not exist.

Nothing exists except for you. You, with your hood pulled over your head and the drawstrings tightened so the fabric scrunches around your wind-bitten cheeks. You, with a few strands of hair escaping from the cotton ring, catching on your eyelashes as they flutter, slipping between your lips as you speak. You, you, you.

Sometimes, Felix experiences something strange. It happened when you walked into the kitchen with puffy eyes and terrible posture, a spot of toothpaste on your chin. It happened at the sight of the warm smile you gave the barista as you ordered at your favorite cafe. It happened when he found you faceplanted into your keyboard at 3 A.M., the last fifteen pages of your research paper comprising nothing but the letter ‘g.’

And it happens now, as you recount the embarrassing situation you found yourself in that afternoon, sporting a smile that splits your face into two. Not down the middle, but slightly off to the side, the way it does when you’re really laughing.

Cue the telltale signs: an explosive blossoming in his chest, a mounting tightness in his throat, a feeling like he’s been ripped out of his body and, from a distance, finally recognizes himself for what he is.

A mortal man tasked to contain the galaxy that is his love, every sun and moon, every asteroid, every scrap of space debris belonging to you.

How he hasn’t yet burst at the seams is beyond him.

“I complimented the cab driver’s ass,” you say.

He blinks at you. “What?”

“I was trying to—”

You’re overcome by a breathless giggle, your interlocked hands swinging between your bodies.

“I was trying to thank him. Merci beaucoup, right? And then he looks at me like I’m crazy and drives away, and then it hits me.”

“Oh.” Felix says, and he, too, starts to smile, his mirth melting his face like a spreading flame. “Oh, no.”

“Merci beau cul,” you sigh. “I told him merci beau cul.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“A Freudian slip?”

“No wa—”

Your expression goes suddenly contemplative.

“Maybe, actually.”

His bark of laughter echoes around the empty grounds, accompanied with your insistence of you should’ve seen that thing, babe. He takes your word for it.

Your jetlagged adventure reaches climax some ten minutes later. You let go of Felix’s hand to run the rest of the distance, heels kicking up puffs of dust. The land silhouette sinks away, replaced by golden speckles that trickle into his field of vision until they’re all he can see.

At the hill’s pinnacle, you stand in silence. The strands of hair floating around you prior now thrash in the wintry winds, and you’ve swapped your wild grin for a stupefied gape. Your eyes glisten like mirror lakes, the city before you reflected in the pools of your pupils, cordoned within the shores of their lids.

There it is again. That familiar feeling of being torn away, of being crushed by the tonnage of his amour. He opens his mouth because he needs to, because he’ll burst at the seams if he doesn’t, just barely keeping the tremble in his voice at bay.

“Can I take a picture of you?”

You look at him, confused.

“Only me?” He nods, and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Just trust me.”

And you do, with everything in you.

You turn your back to the nightscape. He positions himself a few feet away and slots his eye against the viewfinder. The lighting does you no favors with how it plunges you into shadow; you do Paris no favors with the radiance of your smile. Click.

Soonafter, you drift back to his side, plant a soft kiss to his cheek. He gazes at the live preview without a word, clutching his camera as tightly as if it's a piece of a shooting star.

Gently, you dust a finger beneath his chin. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, discovers your face meager centimeters away.

You will never know what you do to Felix, not to the fullest extent. But there are times, he thinks, when you have your suspicions, and this is one of them.

“You okay?” You whisper, your hand lifting to the curve of his cheek, and he slides his own around your wrist, the plush of his thumb nestling over your pulse.

“Yes,” he whispers back, an understatement of prodigious proportions.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・ @automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8

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thedensworld · 6 months

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Even When We're Drown, We're Still Breathing | K.Mg

Pairing: Husband!Mingyu x Wife!Reader

Genre: angst, established relationship, fluff

Words Count: 1k

Summary: Mingyu was missing the spotlight he used to have, so he decided to accept the offer to shoot a reality show about marriage life and parenting. However, his wife was in a different situation.

Mingyu was bursting with excitement when the first episode of the reality show you had shot finally aired. He was thoroughly satisfied with the outcome. The editing and the host's reactions had met his expectations. Mingyu couldn't help but replay the scene when the twins were introduced to the public for the first time. You and he had covered their faces on your social media, doing your utmost to safeguard their privacy. However, like any ordinary parents would, Mingyu wanted to know the viewers' reactions to his kids. He scrolled through the comments section on the video showcasing Hana and Hoon, along with the flawless editing that portrayed Hana as calm and shy, and Hoon as boisterous with puppy-like behavior. He couldn't contain his laughter when they compared his kids to his fellow members, Wonwoo and Hoshi.

"When will mom be home?" Hana inquired while Mingyu finished watching the video and was about to prepare dinner.

These days, you've been occupied with promoting your new movie release. When you and Mingyu decided to tie the knot, you were at the pinnacle of your career. After a four-year hiatus, you had just made a comeback with an action-packed film, and Mingyu was exceptionally supportive. You had met Mingyu through his fellow member, Wonwoo, who happened to be your co-star in your early movie. At that time, Mingyu had just completed his military service and found you intriguing, so he asked Wonwoo to introduce you two.

Mingyu is still actively involved in his band, even though their last album was released a year and a half ago. Each member is swamped with their individual schedules; some have even started their own families, like Mingyu, making it harder to have consistent comebacks.

Lately, Mingyu has been occupied with his clothing line business and various modeling sessions. He strives to be less tied up so he can take care of the kids while you're at work. Prior to your promotional schedule, you were jet-setting abroad every week for your new movie shoots. Mingyu was elated to have the kids all to himself.

"She said she'll be home at 6," Mingyu grinned as he replied to his daughter.

When he pitched the idea of joining the reality show to you, he mentioned that he missed the spotlight he used to bask in. He still had it, albeit to a much lesser extent. People recognized him everywhere, even the staff at the daycare his kids attended used to be his fans. It was the interaction he missed the most. The feedback, the compliments, the expectations that used to ignite his passions - he longed for them.

"It might be tough for the kids; we've never exposed them to this industry," you remarked when he asked for your opinion.

That was true. Hana and Hoon knew who their parents were and what they did. They enjoyed Mingyu's band's songs and loved watching your old dramas. They understood that their parents worked in the entertainment industry, but they didn't grasp the intricacies of it. Mingyu had pondered this. If he accepted the offer, how would it impact his kids? Privacy would unquestionably be at the forefront of concerns.

"If you truly want to do it, let's do it. We'll work on the rest together," your words reassured him, leading him to accept the offer.

Mingyu let out a sigh at the sight of what his kids had done to the living room. Hoon, the mischief-maker, darted towards his room to fetch more things to scatter. Meanwhile, Hana was engrossed in her Lego, but even her creations couldn't evade finding their way under Mingyu's foot.

In a moment of urgency, Mingyu grabbed his phone and called you for help. He'd never felt this way when you were away for days, but knowing you'd be home in an hour made his patience wear thin.

"Hello..." Your voice filled the room as he put the call on speaker, immediately drawing the attention of your kids, who started shouting "mom."

Without a word, he let out another heavy sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle upon hearing it.

"I'm sorry, I won't be home until 10. We're having a team dinner after this," you explained.

"Really? Hana, mom won't be home until 10," he said, his disappointment evident as he relayed the news to his daughter.

Mingyu's smile returned when he saw Hana pout, her expression mirroring yours when she's upset. "Hana wants to speak," he said, passing the phone to her.

"Mom, fighting!" Mingyu burst into laughter at his daughter's choice of words. "Have fun, I'm going to cook dinner," he said to you before ending the call.

"Mom won't be joining the dinner?" Hoon inquired, and Mingyu nodded.

"Isn't it fun having a meal with dad?" he asked them. Hoon promptly shook his head, declaring, "No! Eating with mom is more fun, right Hana?" while Hana simply ignored them.

Maybe what the editor said about his children was right. Hoon did resemble Hoshi, and Hana bore a striking resemblance to Wonwoo.

During the photoshoot for the promotion of your new movie release, they handed you and your fellow actor, Choi Woosung, a script containing questions that would be asked during the recording.

"You've shot a reality show?" Woosung inquired, and you nodded in confirmation. You explained that the reality show focused on Mingyu's life as your husband and parent.

"How's the reaction?" He asked, echoing one of the questions from the list.

You chuckled, slipping into the role as if it were a real interview. "The reaction is very good. The fourth episode has been released. It felt great to share a glimpse of our life with the public."

On your way home, you couldn't shake off the question from earlier.

'How's the reaction to your reality show?'

You hadn't really kept up with it. Mingyu was usually the one to inform you about updates. You'd only appeared for less than 20 minutes in total. While you were excited about the show, your schedule had kept you too occupied to check on it, let alone gauge the reaction.

As you headed towards your home, you opened your phone, typed in the name of your reality show, and checked the comments section. You were delighted by the rush of dopamine every time you came across comments praising the twins for being so cute and clever. There were even some compliments about the parenting you and Mingyu showcased on the show. Reading them made you grasp the feeling your husband had been missing - this surge of happiness.

'It's so weird that the wife is never home.'

'Why is it always Kim Mingyu who does the work at home? Is it because of his busy wife?'

'Mingyu housewife agenda is still going strong kekekeke..'

'Even after marriage, Mingyu still takes care of everyone. Poor Mingyu lol'

You entered your quiet house as the clock struck ten at night. Your day had been packed, starting at ten in the morning with back-to-back shoots. Quickly, you changed into your sleeping clothes, meeting Mingyu as he emerged from your children's room. One of the things people praised was your effort in training the twins to sleep on their own.

"Hana's finally asleep," Mingyu whispered, placing his arm around your shoulder as you both made your way to the kitchen, the farthest point from the twins' room.

"What did she ask this time?" You inquired, already stifling a laugh as Mingyu began with a sigh.

He perched on the counter while you opened the fridge, searching for a beer to accompany tonight's conversation with your husband.

"She asked if she could make green coffee from green beans because coffee is made from coffee beans," he reported, burying his head in his arms, which rested on the counter.

You chuckled. "That's clever," you remarked, handing him a can of beer.

"Hoon wanted to use your glass, but he accidentally dropped it. He's preparing his apology for tomorrow morning," he shared, introducing another amusing incident.

You shook your head. "Did he mention it was an accident?" Mingyu nodded, "He didn't want me to break the news to you because he wanted to tell you himself."

Your heart warmed at hearing this. The glass wasn't a big deal to you—it was just a way to encourage them to drink water by using their favorite glass.

"That's sweet," you said, smiling at him. "Yeah, I thought so. They're growing up a little too quickly," Mingyu mumbled, and you agreed.

"How was your day with them? I saw the video you sent me," you asked, referring to the video he took of Hoon and Hana squabbling over petting a puppy at the park.

Mingyu chuckled. "On our way home, they suddenly wanted to take a walk in the park. I think it must be something they learned or heard at daycare. It was just so random. Some people recognized them, which upset Hana. Hoon loved it," he recounted, and you couldn't help but laugh at the tale.

"They met a little Samoyed, and I think it was their first time seeing one," you agreed. "Hoon suddenly got petty when Hana joined him in petting the puppy. He said Hana kept imitating him, and Hana didn't like dogs."

You were also tickled by the fact that Hana was petting a dog. She was never fond of them, in fact, she preferred stuffed animals over real ones, which was the opposite of Hoon, who wished for a puppy or kitten on every birthday.

"Let's sleep," Mingyu murmured as the beer was finished, and you two couldn't contain your laughter from the twin's escapade. Waking them up was the last thing you both wanted.

"What time is your schedule tomorrow?" Mingyu asked as you both lay down on the bed, his arm pulling you closer.

"I have a salon appointment at 11, and the shoot might end by 2. Why?" you inquired.

"My mom and my sister are in Seoul tomorrow. Mom said she wants to meet you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Should we go out for dinner tomorrow? Your mom liked the Japanese restaurant we visited last month."

Mingyu nodded and closed his eyes. "Okay, I'll book a table for tomorrow." His arm tightened around you, and you mumbled that it was too warm, but he pretended to be asleep.

The drive home after dinner was quiet. The kids had fallen asleep, leaving you and Mingyu in a solemn atmosphere. Not a word was exchanged since you bid goodbye to his mom and sister, parting ways as they headed back to Anyang. Mingyu stole glances at you multiple times but hesitated to say a word, treading carefully after what had happened at the restaurant.

Mingyu's mom had always adored you. He'd known that from the moment he introduced you to her. She looked at you with a love he'd never seen in her eyes when she interacted with him or his sister. It was as if you were her own, even his sister acknowledged this. She never spoke ill of you or to you; she held you in the same respect a mother-in-law should have for their child's partner. So, when she said those unexpected words in the restaurant, it took Mingyu aback.

"I noticed you never take care of the house on the show," she had remarked, to which Mingyu immediately interjected, "She was busy."

"Still, a wife should be taking care of her husband and kids."

"Mom..." Mingyu tried to halt the conversation, but his sister promptly changed the subject, showcasing how Hoon was eagerly eating his sushi.

Seeing you silenced by this exchange hurt Mingyu deeply. He despised the discomfort that settled between you both as you moved around the house in silence. You didn't even glance his way.

As you passed him, he gently took your arm, leading you to the couch and squatting in front of you. Your eyes were level, but you avoided meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Mingyu began. "I know it hurt. I'm not happy with what mom said either."

"It's not your fault," you mumbled, your eyes still averted.

Mingyu bit his lip, his voice thick. "Babe, please look at me," he whispered, cupping your cheeks.

"If I look at you, I'll start to cry," you admitted in a near-whisper.

Mingyu's heart broke, and he immediately pulled you into an embrace. He sat beside you, his fingers gently running through your hair, whispering soothing words as you sobbed against his chest.

When you pulled away, you confessed, "I'm just disappointed. I thought your mom knew me better." Mingyu nodded, indicating that he was all ears.

"I thought she knew me better than what she saw on the show. We've been married for a long time," you began. "She used to see me preparing your meals. She even praised how tidy our home was when she visited while you were on tour. She was so proud when we decided not to have a sitter for the twins. Why... Why did she suddenly say that?"

Mingyu closed his eyes, feeling tears welling up. He held you tighter, as if afraid that if he let go, he might lose you.

"I'm fine when people judge me based on what they see. I'm totally fine with that. But, she's my mother-in-law. She's my mom."

That night, Mingyu realized something he hadn't considered when agreeing to the show. He hadn't thought about you; he'd been thoughtless. He remembered the backlash you both faced when you decided to publicly date. Even years after your marriage, there were mixed reactions, with some saying Mingyu was hindering the group's activities and others believing you were sacrificing your career too soon.

Mingyu had never been one to care about public opinion, but you were different. He believed you were making continuous progress, but he knew it was hard for you to accept comments, especially those that weren't true. You detested people's expectations and how they burdened you. It was something Mingyu couldn't entirely comprehend. He thrived on expectations, needing that pressure to stay motivated. These differences had occasionally caused friction in your relationship.

Your pregnancy with the twins had been unexpected. You were in the midst of shooting an action movie, involving a lot of stunts, when you found out you were two weeks pregnant after collapsing on set. Mingyu was upset that you had to continue shooting after almost losing the baby. He couldn't understand why you kept getting action roles and constantly put yourself in danger with all the stunts.

"Remember my movie with Wonwoo? I don't like how people expect us to fall in love after the project. Action movies give me less pressure compared to romance and melodrama. I hope you understand."

This was followed by your reluctance to attend promotions and your refusal to appear on variety shows because of the burden it placed on you.

Now, Mingyu finally understood why it weighed on you. He could see the pieces falling into place.

He gently kissed your forehead as you fell asleep on his lap after the emotional conversation you'd had earlier. He picked you up effortlessly and carried you to the bedroom, determined that things would change for the better from this point forward.

Mingyu's smile stretched wide as he set up blankets for the viewing spot. Today marked the last episode of your reality show, and it was the first time he'd be watching it with you and the kids. You chuckled when you saw Mingyu pat a spot next to him with a beaming smile and a look of adoration – an expression his fellow members often teasingly referred to as a "cheap stare."

"Why are you smiling? It hasn't even started yet," you remarked, picking up Hana and settling her on your lap. She immediately clung to you like a koala on a tree.

"I want a hug too," Hoon chimed in, and you opened your arms for him to join Hana.

Mingyu sighed, resting his head on the couch while gazing at the three of you. "They never treat me like this," he mumbled.

The show began with the familiar scenes of your house and the kids' activities. However, you were taken aback when there were a few scenes of you that hadn't been included in previous episodes. It showed you preparing breakfast, doing a quick load of laundry, tidying the kids' room, and tending to the plants. The scenes were accompanied by the sub-title, 'special for mom.' You glanced at Mingyu, who was fully engrossed in the screen.

"Mom, you're so pretty!" Hoon exclaimed upon seeing a scene from one of your movies. You smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Do I really look like that in the morning? That's not a good look for broadcast," you muttered, watching yourself on screen without any makeup.

Mingyu scoffed, "Are you underestimating my taste in girls?" His words earned a grateful laugh from you.

'My wife, Y/n, she's such an interesting person. She's the second shyest person in this house after Hana. They're basically like mother and daughter,' you heard Mingyu say on the show.

'She's so talented and amazing. But she's not a very confident person. I don't know why, but that's just how she humbles herself,' he continued, drawing a chuckle from you.

'Mom is a hero. She makes me my favorite food and runs with me at the park,' Hoon's voice filled the room.

'Mom? She's awesome. She reads me a book every day. I love it,' Hana chimed in.

'There's a lot about her that hasn't been shown much. She gave birth to my children. She sacrificed her body, her career, her life to marry me and start a family with me. There were times when she was alone with the kids while I was on tour. I believe it was tough raising the kids – twins at that – alone, especially for a new parent,' Mingyu shared, his voice filled with genuine admiration and respect.

The entire episode was a tribute to you. Tears welled up in your eyes as Mingyu spoke so highly of you, acknowledging the challenges and sacrifices that come with being a wife and mother.

The show concluded with a montage of pictures, capturing precious moments of your family when the twins were born, when you video called Mingyu on tour with the babies just months old, when you cooked while Mingyu looked after the twins, and even when you did home workouts with the twins imitating you.

"Kim Mingyu!" You playfully scolded him as soon as the show ended.

Mingyu laughed at your reaction, your eyes slightly swollen from crying throughout the show. Meanwhile, the twins, showing a clear preference for their mom, eagerly joined you in your playful reprimand.

Mingyu grabbed his phone, capturing a picture of your post-crying face and one of the three of you engrossed in the show from earlier. He planned to post them on his social media later.

After putting the kids to bed, Mingyu pulled you into his arms and whispered, "Love you, always."

You smiled and held him closer. "Thanks for everything. I love you more."

"You deserve it, baby. You deserve it."

Mingyu muttered, "I honestly don't think our kid resembles them," as he pettily showed a video of Hoon and Hana alongside Hoshi and Wonwoo.

He paused, then continued, "I mean, they're our child. They're supposed to resemble us, and they do. People just fail to see that." He mumbled, then turned his attention back to you, who were busy chopping chicken breast before putting it into the blender.

You decided to ignore him, focusing on your pre-workout meal preparations.

#densworld🌼#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #mingyu imagines #mingyu recs #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu #mingyu au #mingyu fluff #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu imagines #mingyu drabbles #mingyu fanfic #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu

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kittwix · 28 days

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First Kiss with the Joestars

Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna, Jolyne Cujoh, Johnny Joestar, Josuke Higashikata (Gappy), Jodio Joestar x Neu! Reader

word count: 5.4k , it's long if you read all of their parts >_<

tags: very sweet; cavity inducing fluff, jodio is a little mean, reader stand isnt specify or implied, reader is gender neutral!

Jonathan Joestar

Your suspicion grew when he had invited you for a picnic out to the vineyard. He had made it obvious that he liked being around you, even at the times when he would be practicing for his Rugby tournaments, he would always encourage you to be there to cheer him up.

He would have everything all planned out, he had his maids prepare the basket for him and even went ahead to pack some of his favorite lunch items; resisting the urge to just eat them right then and there before he could meet up with you.

Upon meeting, he gracefully held the basket with one hand, offering his other arm for you to grasp. He greeted you with a kiss on the back of your hand, a faint blush gracing his cheeks, eliciting a chuckle of amusement from you.

"My, my, Jojo.. Have you contrived this all on my behalf?" You stood there, curiosity in your eyes and a small smile, as you watched your boyfriend carefully spread a beautifully sewed quilt over the uneven patches of grass. It was clear that this moment, simple as it might seem, was shaped with intention and care, setting the stage for the intimate afternoon you were about to share together. "Could it be that there is a significant event which has escaped my memory?”

"No, nothing of that sort." Jonathan replied, his smile casting a warmth over you that felt as comforting as sunlight caressing your skin.The sheer sight of him made your tummy flutter with butterflies; his handsomeness was evident, and his disposition was the pinnacle of gentleness. He was the nicest and most sincere boy you'd ever met. "What a delightful day out, wouldn’t you agree? The weather is simply ideal for a luncheon outing with my beloved.”

"Well yes," You hummed, now it was your turn to be embarrassed as you fidgeted with your hands for a moment and watched him take apart the lunch. "I cannot shake the suspicion that you are plotting something. Quite the mischievous schemer, are you not?”

"What? Me? That’s absurd! Do you truly believe me of being capable of such baseness?" Your boyfriend teased, mimicking a frown which prompted you to gently push on his shoulder as you shared a laugh. It was times like this where you could genuinely admire him. You noted the sharp outlines of his chiseled face, and how his kind blue eyes, reminiscent of the deepest sapphires, seemed to sparkle even more under the natural light. And oh, that smile...

You gradually moved closer to him, inch by inch, until there was almost no room between you. He twisted his head, appearing surprised by the sudden closeness, yet there was no sign of disinterest in his reaction. Silence encompassed you both, the world around you dissolving into a distant hum.

Within seconds, you closed your eyes and closed the final gap, your lips meeting his in a sweet, short kiss. It was a brief encounter, lasting only a few seconds before you pulled back, but in his gaze, you could swear you saw stars twinkling back at you. He glanced at you, completely taken aback, his mouth slightly parted as if about to speak, capturing a moment of wonder.

"Wow..." He reacted. "That was certainly not within the scope of my intentions, but I must admit.. It was rather pleasant."

Joseph Joestar

It was mostly his initiation, he likes to joke around with you a little too much but that was just part of his personality that you like so much. Not to mention that he can be pretty unpredictable, making him blunt in ways that just makes you like him even more.

"What do you want now, Joestar?" You asked, crossing your arms at the sight of your tall boyfriend creeping up on you with a stupid smile that could only mean that he was up to no good.

"Ouch! Can't a guy stroll up to his darling and turn on the charm?" He asked, seeming to have pretended to his offensiveness with a hand on his chest as he bats his eyelashes at you. “Anyways, got any plans later?”

“Oh, what’s it to you? Gonna take me out for dinner? Miss Lisa Lisa isn’t going to like the fact that you’re slacking off on your training.” You reiterated back with a little smirk and a hand on your hip. "She doesn't need to know! I can handle almost anything, baby! Just give me a shot, or else you might get kissed." He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, leaning in a bit closer, and you couldn’t help but conceal the smile that was growing on your face. With a playful push, you gently nudged him back, enjoying the flirtatious banter between you. “Is that a threat?” You raised a brow. “Or are you asking something out of me?” “Perhaps.” He answered back and for a second, silence enveloped both of you, heightening the tension in the air. It didn't help matters that he was so close, his scent filling your senses. Glancing around briefly, you released a small sigh, shaking your head in a playful manner. With a tender gesture, you reached out and cupped his cheek, the intimate moment shared between you intensifying.

“You’re impossible.” Your voice was a faint whisper, closing the distance between you as you moved in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. The kiss, delicate and sweet, lasted far longer than you had anticipated, but you found yourself loving every moment of it. As you got closer, the temptation to melt into his embrace overcame you, and you could feel his eagerness through the curious movements of his hands, which became bolder by the minute.

However, just as you were about to voice your feelings, the distinct call of Caesar’s voice pierced the intimate bubble you had created, forcing you to regretfully break the kiss. Turning your gaze back to Joseph, you were met with his trademark snarky smile, a look that teetered on the edge of being both endearing and infuriating. He wore his joy openly, quietly bragging to himself about having gained something as simple as a kiss to you. It was a moment that triggered a playful irritation in you, making you want to slap his smug grin away.

As the moment between you faded, you watched him depart with a playful wink cast over his shoulder in your direction before returning back to Caesar. Even as he walked away, his cheeky demeanor left a lingering warm feeling in your heart, a silent promise of more moments like these to treasure.

Jotaro Kujo

On the contrary, it was an accidental kiss and wasn't something that neither of you had planned. It was in front of everyone as well, especially in front of his grandfather, which only heightened the embarrassment of the situation.

The situation had taken an unexpected turn, with suspicions that an enemy Stand user, possibly one of Dio's underlings, was involved. This required everyone to be attentive, continuously on the lookout for signs of an attack or sabotage, no matter how bizarre the situation may be at hand. Despite the tension, the moment had allowed for a brief lapse into normalcy as Joseph generously offered to cover the cost of lunch for everyone. You conveyed your gratitude gracefully, humming blissfully to yourself as you devoured the pasta you'd chosen, enjoying the flavors

However, your delight was cut short when you felt an unusual sensation in your throat. It swelled quickly, making it difficult to breathe and speak. Panic came in when you realized you were choking, and the situation quickly escalated from uncomfortable to life-threatening. It was Iggy who had caught on to this, the small dog emerging from beneath the table and began barking loudly at you.

The abrupt escalation of events threw the group into a state of alarm. As you began to drool excessively, struggling for air, a small, rabid-like bug emerged from your mouth, adding a surreal horror to the scene. Your attempt to cry out was muffled, choked by the intrusion. Polnareff and Joseph let out a collective scream, their voices blending in shock and terror. Despite the panic that was clouding your eyesight, you could see Avdol and Kakyoin rush into action, summoning their Stands with an eagerness.

In the midst of the chaos and fear, you suddenly felt a strong, reassuring grip on your shoulder, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with Jotaro. His presence was imposing, the brim of his hat casting a shadow that obscured the upper half of his face, rendering his eyes invisible in the moment. Before you could process the situation fully, Jotaro's lips pressed firmly against yours. Shock and a surge of adrenaline caused your eyes to fly open wide, your hands instinctively curling into fists against his muscular chest. As he pulled back, the realization hit you: Jotaro had taken the stand from your mouth, now holding it between his lips. With a look of disgust, he spat it out to the side. In an instant, Star Platinum was summoned, its fist blurring into motion as it delivered a powerful punch that sent the stand hurtling into oblivion.

Everyone was taken aback by Jotaro's action. It was a bold move that had you gasping for air. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as you processed the sensation; his lips had been surprisingly soft, and the kiss had carried a level of passion that left you questioning its intent.

The lingering sensation of his lips on yours created an array of emotions swirling within you, mixing gratitude with confusion and a hint of curiosity. The lingering sensation of his lips on yours sparked a range of emotions within you.

You cleared your throat, the unexpectedness of the circumstance made you feel instantly self-conscious, forcing you to put your plate aside as your hunger faded in the aftermath of the experience. “Thanks…” You said hoarsely.

“Yare Yare…”

Josuke Higashikata

You and Josuke attended the same school, and it had become a regular occurrence for him to offer to walk you home. At first, you didn't think much of it, considering it a friendly gesture. However, things took a different turn when your school friends started teasing you, hinting that Josuke might have a crush on you.

Today was like any other day, with Josuke offering to walk you home once again. However, a nagging feeling of guilt crept over you as you realized how many times he had gone out of his way for you without expecting anything in return. Despite your gratitude for his kindness, you couldn't help but feel like you owed him something more substantial.

As the two of you approached your house's doorstep, you fidgeted with your hands, an anxious yet grateful smile forming across your face as you turned to face the boy. "Is this like, the millionth time you've walked me to my door?" you teased gently, resting against the doorframe and looking down at your feet. "You're really sweet," you said, genuine admiration coloring your words as you met his gaze again. His presence was familiar and comforting, making every trip to your door a special part of your day.

Josuke rubbed the back of his head, a bashful smile playing on his lips as he blushed slightly at your words. "Hey, I was raised to be a gentleman, y'know," he replied with a hint of self-consciousness, his genuine sincerity shining through. "And, uh, I think you're pretty cool to hang out with." he added, trying to play it off casually but unable to hide the warmth in his eyes as he looked at you.

"Yeah? I think you're pretty cool too," you replied, crossing your arms and allowing your gaze to linger on his figure, almost as if you were studying him intently. Josuke, with his trademark pompadour, couldn't help but chuckle softly at your lingering look, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

You fought with the thoughts that raced through your mind, urging you to take the risk and make your move, especially after leaving Josuke visibly flustered. He was now haphazardly kicking at a pebble under his foot, avoiding direct eye contact as if quietly expressing that he was waiting for something else to happen before returning home. The tension in the air was obvious, and you could sense the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

"I wanted to thank you for walking with me every day," you began, your voice wavering slightly with nerves. "A proper thank you," you quickly corrected yourself, hoping to drop a subtle hint about where the conversation was heading. "I feel like my words aren't enough. I think you deserve something more meaningful."

As you spoke, Josuke's gaze shifted back to you, curiosity and anticipation flickering in his eyes. He didn't know what to expect, but the moment he felt your hands holding onto his biceps, everything seemed to fall into place. His heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on him, his mouth going dry and his lips quivering slightly in response to the sudden surge of emotions.

Without hesitating for another second, you leaned in and gently pressed your lips against Josuke's, savoring the sweetness of the moment. The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your lips, adding to the enchantment of the kiss. When you finally pulled away, a soft giggle escaped your lips as you admired the lovestruck expression on Josuke's face, his goofy grin speaking volumes about his happiness in that moment. "S-so, uh... I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Josuke asked, a hint of nervousness lacing his words. In response, you gave his cheek a soft tap, a reassuring gesture that brought a smile to his face. With a final glance and a warm smile, you opened the door to your house, leaving Josuke with a sense of anticipation.

“Definitely.”

Giorno Giovanna

During another date that he had arranged, Giorno bought you ice cream as the two of you walked hand in hand. It was a rare occasion when he wasn't caught up in his responsibilities as a mob leader and actually took the time to be with you. Being outside of the mansion felt refreshing, and you were grateful that Giorno shared the same sentiment.

"You know," you started, a playful lilt in your voice as you attempted to coax him into sharing the dessert, "it's one of your favorite flavors. Are you sure you don't want a taste?" Your attempt was light-hearted, an effort to draw him into a small act of normalcy, something as mundane as sharing ice cream on a date.

Giorno's response was a chuckle, the sound warm and rich, filling the space between you. "I'm quite sure. Today, I'm more than happy just to see you enjoy it," he replied, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

It made you wonder if he'd ever considered taking the relationship to the next level. Nothing extravagant, simply the fact that you've been dating for a while now and he has never initiated a kiss. How you ached to feel his lips on yours. Given his soft-spoken demeanor, you wondered if his lips were also soft and moisturized, providing an intoxicating lasting sensation with each kiss. Given that you were staring a little too long, Giorno had turned to meet your eyes as an evident grin spread across his lips as he cups his own cheek out of embarrassment. “Is there something on my face? You look like you have something you want to say.”

“Mmm, yeah actually.” You responded back with lidded eyes as you gave his hand a small squeeze and stopped your tracks. "There’s been something I’ve been wanting to do for the longest.” You admitted as the ice cream in your hands slowly melted from the bright sun above. You continued, “If I have your permission to touch you, will you trust me?”

"You always have my permission, you don't need to ask," Giorno reassured you with a gentle smile, his eyes watching you carefully. As you wrapped one arm around his neck, the distance between your bodies shortened, creating a more intimate atmosphere. Your cheeks were flushed, and the way he met your gaze without much of a reaction made butterflies flutter in your stomach. You felt his arm snake around your waist, and it almost seemed like he knew exactly what you had planned to do next. The anticipation and closeness between you added a thrilling suspense to the moment.

Eventually, the both of you lean in to share a passionate kiss. Much to your pleasure, his lips were soft and so were his hands as it continues to explore the rest of your body. You felt weak in the knees, your hand rested on his chest and once the two of you pulled away you were left starstruck. “Giorno...” “Shall we get going?” The question, simple and gentle, jolted you back to reality, yet the magic of the moment lingered like the afterglow of a sunset. His hand, warm and reassuring, squeezed yours. You nodded your head in response, letting the blonde lead the way as the two of you continue to enjoy the rest of your date.

Jolyne Cujoh

Well, it was more of a dare than something that was just intended. Whenever she was in a good mood, she hardly took herself so seriously, especially when she was messing around with her friends. Though it was pretty easy to break down the tough exterior that she occasionally displays on herself. That’s just how Jolyne is and you admire her for that.

You were seated comfortably on the carpet of your apartment, surrounded by your friends and the lively energy of the gathering. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, fueled by the risky game you had all decided to play. With each round, bets were placed, and allowances were on the line as you wagered on the most obscure acts and challenges.

However, things took an unexpected turn when Ermes placed a cash bet on Jolyne kissing you. The room fell silent for a moment as everyone's gaze focused on you and Jolyne, the heightened tension palpable as the game appeared to have strayed into personal territory.

“Where’d that even come from? You tryin’ to make fun of us or something?” You asked Ermes, your cheeks felt warm,

Ermes just laughed, a knowing twinkle in her eye as she observed the sudden tension between you and Jolyne. "What? Can't handle a little dare?" she teased, her grin widening at your discomfort. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation, especially when you caught Jolyne's eye. Her usually fierce demeanor seemed softened by the flush of embarrassment, making her look unexpectedly vulnerable.

Jolyne let out a deep breath, her gaze shifting from you to Ermes and then back again. "Fine," she finally said, the word coming out more as a challenge than a submission. She leaned closer, her eyes locked with yours, a mix of defiance and something softer you couldn't quite place. The room fell silent, the playful teasing of moments ago replaced by an almost electric anticipation. You could hear your heart beating, loud in the quiet of the room, as Jolyne's face came closer to yours. Her eyes flickered closed, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear.

The kiss was brief, a simple press of lips that felt like a spark through your entire body. When she pulled back, her eyes met yours again, searching for a reaction. The room erupted into whistles and laughter from Ermes and Foo Fighters, but both you and Jolyne were caught in a moment of silent communication, a question and answer passing silently between you.

Jolyne broke eye contact first, turning back to face Ermes and the others with a nonchalant shrug. "See? Just a kiss," she said, her voice steady but you noticed the slight pink still coloring her cheeks.

You were left a little dazed, warmth spreading through your chest. Although the kiss was part of the game, it felt like it carried more weight than either of you would admit. As the game continued and the evening wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jolyne, wondering if the moment had meant as much to her as it did to you.

Johnny Joestar

Just as he was about to join the big horse race, you had to pull him back a bit as you couldn’t help but worry about his own well being. It was a big deal, people can get way too competitive and you tend to worry over the littlest things. Of course, he had to reassure you that he was gonna be fine and that he would just have to be away for a few days, perhaps a few weeks or even months. The thought of being so far away from him already made you anxious and he noticed this, so he held your hands and looked up into your eyes.

"I'll be fine, promise," he responded, his voice full of confidence and calmness. You wanted to believe in his statements and that he would carefully go through the challenges. You knew deep down that despite the distance and time away, he had the courage and determination to return to you.

Before you could say anything else, an obnoxiously loud horn blared, causing both you and Johnny to flinch. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, signaling that the horse race was about to commence. You observed Johnny, noticing how his gaze fixated on a man in a hat, attending to a horse. While you were curious about his sudden focus, you decided not to inquire and instead diverted his attention back to you.

You stretched out and cupped his cheek, gently turning his face toward you. The touch was both calming and anchoring, a gentle reminder amidst the chaos of the race. Johnny's gaze met yours, and everything else disappeared into the background. The clamor of the crowd, the excitement of the race, everything went incidental.

In the heat of the moment, you let your body take control as your brain lagged behind. You wrapped your arms around Johnny, pulling yourself closer to his pretty face and eventually your lips locked with his own. You could tell you caught him off guard with the way his body jumped but he immediately melted into the kiss. The world around you seemed to fade into a blur, leaving just the warmth of his lips against yours and the rhythmic beating of your hearts in perfect harmony. It was a frozen moment in time, with every touch and sensation speaking volumes about your relationship.

After the lingering kiss had finally ended, Johnny's lips retained their puckered form for a moment longer, as if trying to capture the essence of the intimate moment. His eyes remained closed, basking in the residual warmth of your embrace. It wasn't until you let out a playful giggle and lightly tapped his cheek that he snapped out of his reverie, realizing that the kiss had come to an end. Johnny's face broke into a sheepish grin as he opened his eyes, the delighted twinkle in them reflecting how deeply he had lost himself in the experience.

"Having fun there, loverboy?" you teased with a playful grin, unable to hide the amusement dancing in your eyes.

"Shut up, and kiss me again before I go for real this time," Johnny mumbled in a half-serious, half-playful tone, already leaning in with closed eyes, anticipating the next kiss. You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully at his eagerness, knowing all too well how much he enjoyed these moments of intimacy.

Granting his wish, you leaned in closer, planting a series of small, teasing pecks on his lips. Each kiss was light and fleeting, just enough to leave him wanting more but sufficient to see the satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

His embrace was overwhelmingly tight, his clinginess something you adored in him, yet you hadn't quite anticipated the sheer strength he possessed. It left you feeling somewhat overpowered, as if you were about to be compressed into nothingness. Your reaction was a series of light giggles, and although you attempted to push him away gently, it only led him to draw you closer once again. Looking down at you, Gappy gently held your face, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

"Josuke, what's gotten into you?" you question playfully about your boyfriend, but Gappy's arms remained tightly around you. Sure, you had grown accustomed to his affection, though it may occasionally take you by surprise with its intensity. You were also aware of his memory loss and continued search for his identity and purpose. Being one of the first people he met after losing his memory, he quickly developed an emotional connection to you, which you accepted wholeheartedly.

“You’re warm...” He muttered quietly, his fingers tracing patterns across your skin, inducing involuntary shivers. His acts toward you were noticeably compassionate, in stark contrast to his usual approach. Really, he had charisma, a natural capacity to attract those around him, as well as characteristics that made him unique. Nonetheless, he was ready to get violent at any given moment. But with you, he was someone completely different. He treated you with tenderness and care that spoke volumes, distinguishing you to be special in his eyes. It was this sharp contrast, this respite from his rougher side, that made you feel sincerely appreciated and cherished.

"Jojo..." Your words was just a whisper, a sweet utterance full of care as you softly lifted your hands, cradling his face with the utmost care.You allowed your eyes to wander over his features, memorizing each detail—the curve of his brow, the depth in his eyes, the subtle strength in his jawline. As you leaned closer, your lips discovered the warmth of his forehead and planted a delicate kiss. With each kiss, you followed a line across his face, from his forehead to his cheek, and finished with a peck on his chin. He reacted with a slight start to your boldness, a small but noticeable jump, yet he remained silent, his eyes speaking volumes of the surprise and warmth he felt.

You wanted to giggle, a sense of satisfaction at getting such a reaction from your boyfriend. You were about to say something witty and sharp, the words almost dancing on your tongue, eager to tease him even more. However, before you could make your smart remark, the scenario took an unexpected turn. His hands, echoing your previous move, rose to gently cup your face. The world seemed to stop for a time as his eyes fluttered shut, sending a subtle indication of his intentions.

Then, with unexpected boldness, he closed the gap between you, pushing his lips against yours in a daring kiss. His unexpected action left your eyes wide open in shock for just a second, leaving an unspoken query hanging in the air. But as the surprise wore off, a warmth flowed through you, and you found yourself easing into the kiss, your body's tension melting away as you reacted with equal passion.

Once the two of you pulled away, you were left breathless, your cheeks were warm and it was hard to really look him in the eyes after such a passionate kiss. You were at a loss for words as well, it was hard to really think about what to say next. It seemed like he was on the same page, his eyes simply looking at yours as he tried to read the expression that you had on your face. Rest assured, there was definitely going to be more kisses after that.

Jodio Joestar

Your frustration was palpable when you stumbled upon him yet again engaged in the act of selling drugs, this time to a group of unfamiliar faces. The sight of him engaging this illicit exchange stirred a flare of anger within you, prompting you to confront him directly. Standing there, your posture rigid with your arms tightly crossed over your chest and a frown etching deep lines of disappointment across your face, you were the picture of discontent.

Jodio, seemingly unconcerned by your appearance or the dissatisfaction etched all over your face, simply snickered to himself dismissively. He nonchalantly shook a baggie full of dollar notes, flaunting the goods of his trade right in front of your eyes, all before he had a chance to properly register your presence or understand the depth of your anger.

"Again?" You couldn't help but shake your head in disbelief, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you observed his repetitive behavior. It was a mix of frustration and disappointment that colored your expression, a silent plea for him to understand the significance of his actions. However, his response was careless, with a mere shrug that appeared to indicate a lack of regard for your issues.

"What's the big deal?" he asked, his tone tinged with casualness as he continued walking, dismissing your concerns. He passed you and headed in the direction where Dragona had parked his car. However, you were not going to let him off the hook so easily. You followed closely after him, the mean expression still engraved on your face as you gazed at his back. Your steps were deliberate, each bearing the weight of your frustration you had for him. His relaxed demeanor simply bolstered the urge to confront him and make him realize the weight of his actions that he had on you.

"What's the big deal?" For god's sake, you're a 15-year-old selling drugs to a couple of dickheads!" Your frustration spilled out in words, your voice infused with fear and exasperation. "You'll get in big trouble, and they'll take you away, and—" Before you could continue, you were interrupted by his irritatingly loud yawn. The interruption left you speechless, your eyes narrowing. The boldness of his attitude, yawning as if your issues were nothing more than a little annoyance, was frustrating. "You're unbelievable," you said under your breath, your words filled with disappointment.

"What's unbelievable is that you care so much," he spat back, his tone defiant as he stuffed the bag of cash into his pockets. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face you directly. "What? Cat's got your tongue? You're kinda funny," he added with a hint of sarcasm, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Your initial instinct was to lash out, to give voice to the frustration swirling inside you. But in a split second, something shifted, and before you could fully process it, your impulses took over. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, pulling him closer, and pressed your lips onto his.

The kiss was impulsive, a burst of emotion that manifested in the heat of the moment. You could feel the texture of his slightly chapped lips against yours. It was a surprise even to yourself, this sudden act of intimacy amidst the tension and conflict that had defined your interaction moments ago.

“I’ll… see you around.”

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grimm-writings · 11 days

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Can I request something (I leave the format up to you) for Chilchuck x reader where the reader genuinely asks Chilchuck for his opinions and thoughts on things? (dungeon related things, union stuff, that sort of thing) Since he mentioned how he would like to be taken serious/respected like Senshi.

Basically reader respects Chilchuck and might have developed a little crush on him as well but doesn't want to make him uncomfortable by being unprofessional so they don't act on it. Maybe it's mutual.

Chilchuck is skilled as fuck and it would be nice if he got some well deserved genuine praise and appreciation for it.

mutual

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, headcanon format, some very very lightly implied maturity difference, marcille #1 wingwoman, reader is taller than chil

…wc! 992

…notes! YOU ARE SO CORRECT he’s genuinely such a valuable asset to the team!! every bit of praise here is well-earned!!!!

You joined the party along with Senshi at the very start of their journey. The group was rather small and you’d fear something might happen if they traverse the dungeon on their own. You felt as if it were your duty to help out, eager to please as you are.

You realised fast that despite the dysfunctional way the group decided to acquire their food, they’re actually much more competent than you thought!

Though this is really you generalising your admiration for the picklock of the group. Being more combat oriented, the ways in which Chilchuck easily bypasses puzzles and open doors left you rapt with his skill.

Before you knew it, you had acquired a notebook and pencil of your own (that you deliberated on robbing from orcs for a while before caving), and you were jotting down notes like nobody’s business!

(Only when alone or on night guard. If anyone knew, you’d be so embarrassed…)

When Chilchuck offers a piece of advice about the social behaviours of adventuring parties, you notice. When Chilchuck offhandedly mentions a tricky aspect of the dungeon, you notice.

When Chilchuck scolds Senshi for treating him like a child, you notice.

You had a feeling he wasn’t a child. You were sort of observing him unendingly, and he seemed the image of a jaded, experienced adventurer. You can’t help but feel your admiration for him grow upon realising that.

It’s difficult not to come across too eager as you’re imploring him for more knowledge. You’re just curious! You’re expanding your dungeon knowledge! He’s happy to tell you anything you need to know, as casually and calmly as any good teacher.

But you know deep down that you’re just really attached to the half-foot. Maybe too attached…

When someone (Senshi) makes a comment about Chilchuck, even before he could retort like usual you’re standing in front of him telling him what’s what! Chilchuck is too taken aback to make much of a comment about it afterwards, but he seems… pleased.

(It’s giving “his pronouns are they/them!”)

Marcille and Laios give each other a look whenever this happens. Not saying you’re being judged, but…

Your earnestness to be the pinnacle of dungeon exploration gives Chilchuck pride in being your mentor. He’ll make a comment about it occasionally but deep down…

You kind of wish it could be more.

You’re not young necessarily. You’re years into your adulthood, but even with that in mind, Chilchuck already made it quite clear that inter-party relations are strictly a no-no.

And you just had to go and break rule number one!

It does leave you staring longingly at the half-foot’s peaceful expression when you’re supposed to be on night watch, wishing for a different reality.

It would be part way through your adventure, long after you’ve given up hope on your feelings being reciprocated, when Chilchuck gives you a spot of hope.

Just a run-in with a bicorn can really change your perspective… Chilchuck actually asked if he could talk, just one-on-one, with you.

You had to contain yourself from exploding when you accepted, following behind him into a nearby corridor. You pretend to ignore Marcille’s giggles and Izutsumi’s sigh and eyeroll.

Just had to hold your breath…

Chilchuck turns to you, looking apprehensive. You do appreciate his progress of trying to be a bit more open to people. You’re always his number one supporter without even being coddling… He takes a breath looking up at you. If you only knew what you did to him with each round of praise and appreciation. …Well, only one way to get there, yeah? He says your name with a weight. One you’re not able to put to name. “I haven’t been… entirely honest with you,” he tells you. Your chest tightens and you feel your blood run cold. “What… What do you mean?” “Nothing bad!” He’s quick to ease your fears with a desperate wave of his hands. He’s still working on this, and you can tell from how red his face gets that he’s definitely struggling with this. You watch his Adam’s apple (small, but noticeable if you stare long enough) (not like you have) bob as he gulps. His gloved hands take yours. You try your hardest not to blush. “You know how I keep telling you that you should get ahead? Promote yourself to join the parties of more experienced adventurers?” “Yeah…?” “I was trying to push you away.” He looks away from you, ashamed. “So you don’t get any closer. I also know… how you feel about me.” You’re back to feeling horrified beyond your wits. He's definitely going to reject you. “I thought you said this wasn’t anything bad!” “I’m getting to it!” He shoots back with the same increase in volume. His nerves are getting the better of him. “Then by all means,” you say, “get to it!” Chilchuck’s hands over yours are shaking. His mouth opens once more, but only a silent quiver of his vocal cords comes out. He isn’t even looking at you anymore. You probably think the worst of him by now, after all this time of trying his best to look his best, the image of professionalism. You know what? Fuck this heart-to-heart stuff. Marcille’s advice was shoddy from the start. The action is sudden. Chilchuck unlaced his fingers from yours, and before you could process it, his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down to his height. And he’s kissing you. A bit feverishly and you really would have thought he’d be a bit better at this considering his experience– But you kiss back, easing into it after your shocked “mmph!?” He still definitely owes you for putting you through the five stages of grief twice though. Chilchuck breaks apart, and as you recover from your shock, he sighs and smiles slightly. His face is nearly glowing from the heat; you can feel it quite plainly. “The feeling’s mutual,” he whispers.

#✮ grimm's fics!#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon imagines #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck #chilchuck tims #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims imagines #chilchuck tims x reader

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saerins · 11 months

Text

─── 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘

+ gojo satoru x f!readsr | wc 1.8k | content: fluff, slight angst, manga spoilers, friends to lovers, geto is mentioned a lot here, i’m too lazy to proofread !!

notes: i caved , couldn’t help it , i love him and i miss him and i can’t wait for s2 !!! first time writing gojo plus this is word vomit i don’t actually know where i was going with this help :’)

summary: gojo has loved you forever, since back then—and now neither of you can hold back anymore.

“gojo satoru, you’re insane!”

for any normal guy, that’d probably be an insult. but not for this guy, no, because gojo satoru is not normal. he’s anything but. he’s the pinnacle of power in the jujutsu world. has been ever since he was little.

at least, that’s what you came to understand. thanks to suguru.

it’s as if gojo can sense what you’re thinking of, as though he can teleport himself inside that teeny tiny little crevice in your mind and pick out the information he wants. you’re never safe from him, because he always knows what you’re thinking.

it isn’t exactly a bad thing, but sometimes it scares you. being easy to read has never felt so disappointing. not for yourself, no. but because what upsets you, what you try not to think about all the time, is what upsets gojo too.

suguru’s death. his absence.

you wonder if gojo ever took suguru here too, teleported him to the top of the highest skyscraper in tokyo. you wonder if suguru liked the view. then you start to wonder if you could’ve been more for him, whether there was something you could’ve done to be enough.

it’s been a couple years now, and you’d think you would get a little better. but you’re starting to think you never will be. and it’s not like you and suguru were together, no. but you used to dream of it.

you see, you and suguru connected on many of the same levels. but then suguru strayed, and it seemed like the boy you once had eyes for became someone else entirely.

“why the long face?” gojo asks, settling next to you, sitting on the edge of the building where he teleported you to just seconds ago, legs dangling over impending death if any were to fall. well, as long as they didn’t have gojo satoru with them.

old you would’ve seen this as an intrusion. but as it is, gojo has always been there for you. maybe not for selfless reasons, maybe because suguru’s departure didn’t just leave you with a deep scar. you imagine it must be much worse for gojo. because as invincible as he is, even the strongest sorcerer has his weaknesses.

suguru happened to be one of them.

maybe, as much as you need him, maybe gojo satoru needs you too.

he’s been unbearably close most of the time, especially when he’s in the country. and when he’s not, he annoys you consistently over the phone whenever he’s free. and even when he’s not, and then you’re talking to gojo while the monsters are wailing in the background.

gojo’s not very serious most of the time. that’s just the way he is. (he gets very scary when he is serious, but you don’t want to get into that.) mostly he makes jokes about anything and everything, but right now—you turn to look at him, beautiful oceanic eyes hidden by that blindfold—you don’t know which version you’re going to get.

over the years, you’d gotten close to gojo too. enough to know his sweet tooth, enough to know his deep guilt towards suguru. and somehow, after the longest time of only looking at suguru that way, you find yourself questioning what this invisible something between you and gojo is.

not his infinity.

“you ever wonder what life would be like if you weren’t born for this?” you ask, because lately you’ve been feeling this way, feeling like you want to run away from here, run away from this… world.

for a moment, you wish you could be a normal citizen, ignorant to the woes of having to deal with curses, with the woes of having to watch people you know leave this plane far too soon.

you feel gojo’s finger brushing against yours, something that always catches you off guard because he rarely lets his infinity down. your pinkies are intertwined now, and you feel the butterflies forming in your stomach.

“you mean if i didn’t have the six eyes?” gojo grins, and you find yourself wanting to see beyond his blindfold. he rarely takes it down, and you can’t remember the last time you’d seen his eyes.

but you control yourself.

a nod, and gojo hums, contemplating. “if i was a normal guy,” he begins, looking heavenward, and you wonder what he’s really thinking. you don’t have his talent. “i’d hope i was rich.”

you laugh, mirroring his position. “and why would you wanna be rich?”

then, gojo turns back to you, his grin turning into a gentle smile, “so that i could escape with you, take you all around the world with me.”

you find yourself wishing it was true. that he’s a normal guy, and you’re a normal girl. hell, maybe suguru would still be around if it was that way. then you wouldn’t have to spend your time worrying about whether curses would take over the city, wouldn’t go to bed wondering if gojo made it safely back home.

gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer, yes. but you can’t stop the worries from festering. you can’t stop from thinking that maybe there’s an evil in this world you haven’t seen that’s strong enough to take him away from you too.

after all, when they managed to seal gojo in that box, you thought you’d never see him again. you’ve never felt so powerless, being as weak of a sorcerer as you are, barely being able to help anyone, what more gojo satoru.

“going on an eternal holiday with you all over the world, huh? sounds perfect.”

because it is. because maybe after all this time, after all gojo has done for you—be there for you, become your distraction, become your best friend—maybe you’re ready to let go of what you almost had with suguru after all.

you have someone here, right next to you, who’s perfectly capable of making your heart skip beats and taking care of you even during the times you most feel like shit. sure, he can’t be around all the time, it just comes with the job—but he’s always there when it matters. and you think that’s enough.

gojo thinks you’re beautiful in this light, he doesn’t regret bringing you here. can’t say the same for you though, because he’s been teleporting you all around japan today—you’ve been especially mopey lately. and because it’s been ages since he’s spent time like this with you.

he missed you. a lot.

after all, he’s been in love with you ever since he was eighteen. he’s been attracted to you ever since he met you. but back then you had eyes for his best friend, so he bottled all his feelings up.

but then everything with suguru happened way too fast, leaving you heartbroken, apart from gojo himself. and maybe it was selfish of him but you were the only other person he could throw himself on that would be of any use for the heartache he didn’t want.

he wanted you to lean on him, and he wanted to lean on you too.

is he wrong for wondering if, after all this time, you’re ready to let go of whatever it was with suguru?

“satoru,” you call, and gojo flinches slightly at the contact between your fingers and his cheek. you have two fingers on his blindfold. “can i?”

honestly, he’d let you do anything if you asked. he keeps his happy-go-lucky facade up, grinning and baring his teeth, “go ahead.”

the way you take off his blindfold is painfully slow, like you’re careful about treading on this line, afraid that you’d cross some sort of boundary. but he’s always wanted you to, eagerly, patiently waiting for you.

it’s been over ten years now, and his feelings for you are still the way they’ve always been. you’ve always been special, you are.

you tie his blindfold around your wrist; you can keep it for all he cares. he wants to give you his shirts too, wants to see you covered in everything that’s his. is that too much?

his white lashes flutter slowly as you lean in, his breathing getting shallower the closer you are—you can feel his breath against your lips and you’re sure he’s using his infinity to surround you, to make sure you don’t fall. physically. but you think he wants you to fall, for him.

and you’re too weak to deny it any longer.

you want to let yourself fall into it, into gojo satoru, no matter how dangerous it may be and no matter how much weaker you are in comparison. that’s why your lips press against his, and you’re right, because he kisses you back, with urgency, with his tongue prying your lips apart and his heads on the back of your neck pulling you closer.

satoru pulls you in, lets you straddle him on the edge, asks for more when you pull away. his “no, no, no, don’t go,” so needy, whiny—it’s almost like you can feel his yearning from ever since a decade ago.

when satoru finally lets you pull back, his lips shiny from your touch, the blue in his eyes sparkle against the sunlight and you chuckle, pulling the bangs of his hair backwards, admiring how childlike he looks right now.

“you’re so pretty, satoru.”

he cocks a brow, smirking. “you’re one to talk,” because he thinks you’re the prettiest thing he ever laid eyes on. to gojo, you’re everything that’s good; he wants to have you, keep you, love you, he’ll fucking spoil you silly, he doesn’t care.

now that he knows you reciprocate? he’ll make sure he protects you even more now, makes sure that he’ll make time for you whenever possible. this means he gets to be with you, rest with you, be around you—if he’s being too much you’ll tell him off anyway, that’s how you are.

he likes you the way you are. he always has.

now he gets to love you.

fuck, he’s excited.

“i’m never gonna let you go, you know that?” satoru tells you, grinning, boyish and innocent, because he’s only ever been able to fully let his guard down around you. only you.

it’s infectious; you’re falling. and you like it. it feels like you’re on cloud nine, like you’re floating, like he’s—like he’s fucking carrying you while you’re falling from the top of the skyscraper because he’s still the same gojo satoru who’s cheeky as hell and loves to get under your skin.

you scream and punch him on his chest continuously, not that it hurts him. he’s laughing, that devil. then he teleports you both to the ground instead, still laughing. tears form at the corners of your eyes—you’re pouting, and god you’re so beautiful.

“don’t be scared, baby, i told you i’m never gonna let you go,” he winks and you punch him, hard. he winces this time.

“gojo satoru, you’re fucking insane. i hate you.”

“you’re a horrible liar, baby.”

you are. because you love him. dearly. no matter how infuriating he is sometimes.

you roll your eyes. “you’re lucky i like you, satoru.”

he grins, because yes, he knows. he knows he’s lucky. and he’ll make sure he keeps this luck, forever.

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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euphoricfilter · 2 months

Text

hearts for dinner

pairing: yandere! taehyung x devil! reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || established relationship || yandere au

summary: how to wake up the devil

word count: 1.5k

tags/ warnings: fluff, mentions of death and murder, blood, yandere! tae, she does in fact eat hearts for breakfast lunch and dinner, eventual smut to come

notes: mother is back!!! with a mini series based off this idea!! and am fully open to questions about the au which can be turned into future drabbles :D

where you can find the rest of my work!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

fingers tease the ends of your hair, taehyung tugging gently.

he lays on his side beside you, head propped up by his hand as he stares at your sleep stricken face. ever so peaceful, fragile and delicate, warm, entirely unaware of the world around you.

though he supposes even when you’re awake, he doesn’t leave much room for your mind to wander.

a man having tamed the devil herself.

filing down sharp edges and dissolving her poisonous touch until you’d become nothing but soft, warm, pretty gooeyness. tooth rotting sweetness. a heart wrenching loveable being hidden in human form.

tucked away from people. tucked away from civilisation, kept between the walls of the cottage with everything you ask for.

your own crafted paradise, taehyung the creator of your world. the pinnacle of your mind, the core of every thought and feeling.

your life solely his to keep, held in calloused hands, stained in the blood of hundreds. though those lives of everyone who passed, had a new purpose. the purpose of feeding you— taehyung’s only reason to live.

to keep you alive. happy and alive.

you briefly register the ghost of a touch over your cheek, a loose strand of hair tucked behind your ear before warm, soft, lips press over the supple skin of your neck.

you turn, sheets tangled around your waist, noise of question catching in your throat as you slowly slip into consciousness. a gentle slide into the waking world.

“sweet dove” taehyung murmurs against your skin, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

goosebumps prickle the skin of his arms as the scent of you sinks into his pores, the taste of you dancing across his tongue.

“hmm” you tug the blanket up higher, knees curling into your chest. utter warmth surrounding you.

he coos, “my little dove, i have breakfast for you”

you breathe out a long sigh, hands blindly reaching out for him, fingers pressing over his chest, trailing up his arms until your reach his neck, deft fingers curling around the necklace that dangles over his collarbones. your initials locked around his neck. a forever promise that he will never take off.

“can’t you smell it?” he brushes a knuckle down the line of your jaw, “i thought you’d enjoy it warm today… got too cold on the way home”

you peek an eye open, tongue wetting your bottom lip.

“you were gone all night” you croak, trying to pull him closer. quick to throw the blanket over his body to keep the warmth in.

“and how would you know that” he hums, “what time did you go to bed?”

you press your face into the pillow, words muffled, eyes slipping closed, ready for you to slip back into your own little dream world.

“i asked you a question, dove” he presses, arms slipping around your waist.

“6” you mutter.

“A.M. i assume” he presses on.

“mmhmm” you nod, “my gaming console died and i couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed to get the charger…”

a low rumble of laughter vibrates his chest.

“breakfast, then, i’ll tuck you back into bed for a nap. how about it?”

your eyes peel open, “okay” you nod, hands fumbling around under the blanket, looking for his hand.

your fingers wrap around his wrist, bringing it up to your face. you sniff, nose scrunching up at the onslaught of smells. apparent why’d he been gone so many hours of the night. because no matter how much he scrubbed his hands after, the sweet tickling scent of blood will never be missed by you.

“how many?” you wonder, and he smiles a toothy grin.

“enough to last you the week… that’s why i was gone for so long” he leans down, gentle kiss presses to your cheek in apology.

you sigh, leaning your cheek into his open palm “i missed you”

“oh darling” he croons, pulling you closer, face pressed against his chest.

you can feel the steady beat of his heart, the gentle rush of blood slipping through his veins.

“i think i may have missed you more” he whispers, words sweet like nectar as they drip off his tongue, “but i’m here now, just like how it should be”

“and you won’t leave?” you murmur, fingers grasping at his shirt.

“never”

“promise?” you swallow.

“you are my life” his fingers slip into your hair, tugging your head upwards to look at him, “we are forever. there is no end to us until the day our bodies decay, and even then you will never get rid of me. i am yours for eternity”

you nod, smile tugging at the corners of your lips “okay. what if i wanted to travel”

“then i’d follow” his answer is quick, no hesitation.

“and if i wanted to get married?”

“i am all yours”

your fingers skim over his cheek, “what if i wanted the stars?”

at this, he smiles, “i would venture far into the galaxy to pick you the most perfect stars, and name a constellation after you on the way”

“i would want to come with you” you tell him.

his fingers rake through your hair “i wouldn’t ever leave you behind”

you look up at him, silence stretching out between the both of you.

“what about—“ you start, though taehyung’s boisterous laughter cuts you off.

“anything. anything you ask for, it is yours. but first you need to eat, my little dove”

he peels the blanket off the both of you, whine of protest bubbling up your throat as the cool air of the bedroom caresses your skin.

“poor thing” he frowns, arms wrapping around you, pulling you up and off the mattress, “i’ll put the fire on while we eat” he hums, footsteps heavy as he trudges down the stairs, your arms wrapped around his neck

“hold on for a moment” he tells you, hoisting you up a little higher as he pulls out your chair at the dining table. gentle as he sits you down.

your bare feet touch the cold tiles, recoiling to press against your chest.

taehyung scuttles out of the kitchen, quick to grab you, your favourite blanket from the couch, wrapping it around your shoulders as he flitters around the kitchen.

your gaze wanders, eyes catching sight of the outside world. the vast forest seems never ending, darkness lurking just beyond the safety of the house.

“we can go out for a walk later if you like?” taehyung hums, “i have a new coat for you to try”

you turn to look at him, voice soft “i’m okay, thank you though”

he looks over his shoulder at you, holding eye contact. you feel your breath catch in your throat.

he tilts his head, turning back to the pan on the stove, “alright. tell me if you change your mind”

it’s only second after that he’s turning back to you, plate in hand.

you look at the heart, perfectly seared, puddle of blood still coating the plate even though cooked.

“let me know what you think” he smiles, taking the seat opposite yours.

you don’t bother with cutlery, fingers digging into the muscle, wet squelch of blood dripping down your palm, ever so warm. the tantalising smell of it enough to have yourself hungry.

“thank you” you look up at taehyung with a smile, and he simply grins, motioning for you to eat.

you bring the human heart up to your lips, tongue pressing against the muscle before your teeth sink into it.

you chew at it, molars tearing at the meat, swallowing down the metallic blood as it coats your tastebuds.

your fingers tighten around the heart. frown slowly pulling at taehyung’s lips, noticing how your cheeks don’t go rosy, he can tell your bloodlust is not nearly sated.

you drop the heart back onto the plate, not bothering that blood splatters onto the tablecloth.

“what’s wrong?” taehyung stands, taking the plate from in front of you.

“not good” you look up at him, bottom lip pulling into a pout.

“my dove” he kneels down before you, hand running over your cheek, “here—“ he stars, standing.

he moves towards the freezer, pulling the door open, then tugging the biggest drawer open.

“pick which one smells the tastiest, yeah?” he motions for you to look. freezer packed with individually wrapped hearts, the smallest shelf saved for his own meals.

“then i’ll cook you a nice breakfast, better this time” he starts, “then we can stay in bed for as long as you like, yeah?”

you nod at him, from still pulling at your lips, “please”

he smiles.

“i want something sweet for breakfast” you tell him, “something younger than the old piece of shit i just had”

“i should have known you wouldn’t like him… he was more my own indulgence than your dinner” he admits, “horrible man” it comes out barely above a whisper.

“taehyung” you call out to him as he rummages through the drawers.

he perks up, “yes, dove?”

“i love you”

and he can’t help the grim that stretches his cheeks, heart beating rapidly, locked away in his ribcage though so close to bursting through his skin. a heart full of awfully delicious love, ready for you to consume.

“and yet, i might love you more” he tells you.

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xtra7s · 3 months

Note

hello!! i adore your writing style and wanted to ask if you maybe would like to write a reneé rapp fic where instead of lola tung she takes fem!r to the stage and sings one less lonely girl?? and they could already be in a relationship or not either way i think that could be cute!! thank you<33

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 ─── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee sings to her girlfriend on stage during her Halloween show.

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, fluff, Renee is Justin Bieber(confirmed)

Word Count: 700

a/n: AHH THIS IS SO CUTE, im sorry if its too short, tried to add more to make it longer. hope u enjoy gorg!

masterlist

The atmosphere was alive with anticipation as the grand concert hall brimmed with eager spectators, all awaiting the entrance of the night's headlining act — Renee Rapp. The air was thick with excitement, whispers of admiration echoing through the venue. Little did the audience know that tonight's performance would be unlike any other, a tale of music and love waiting to unfold.

As the lights dimmed and the first chords of the music reverberated through the hall, Renee made a spectacular entrance, clad in the unmistakable style of Justin Bieber. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement reaching a crescendo as Renee took command of the stage with a magnetic presence.

Renee's performance was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her voice soared, effortlessly hitting every note, as she flawlessly navigated through a setlist that spanned genres and emotions. The audience was caught in the spell of her musical prowess, every song a testament to her versatility as an artist.

Throughout the performance, Renee danced and interacted with the crowd, creating an electric energy that charged the room. From high-energy pop anthems to soulful ballads, she showcased the depth of her talent, leaving the audience in awe of her captivating stage presence.

As the setlist reached its zenith, a hush fell over the crowd, and the opening notes of "One Less Lonely Girl" began to play. The audience erupted into cheers, recognizing the iconic Bieber tune. It was then that Renee's mischievous smile hinted at the surprise that awaited.

Midway through the song, Renee's gaze shifted to the front row, where Y/N, her girlfriend, stood among the enchanted spectators. With a twinkle in her eye, Renee descended from the stage, capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

Taking Y/N's hand, Renee led her onto the stage, seamlessly blending the line between performer and audience. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement now intertwined with the unfolding love story. Renee guided Y/N to a chair that had mysteriously appeared at the center of the stage, setting the stage for a moment that would be etched in the hearts of those present.

As Y/N settled into the chair, Renee took a step back, gazing at her with a mixture of adoration and playfulness. A girl rushed on stage and handed Y/N flowers, making Y/N's mouth open in shock as the spotlight focused on Y/N and Renee as she began to sing the heartfelt lyrics of "One Less Lonely Girl," pouring her emotions into each word.

The audience fell into a loud cheer as Renee's voice filled the space, creating an intimate atmosphere that transcended the boundaries of the stage.

With every verse, Renee moved around Y/N, her movements choreographed to express the depth of the song's sentiment. She would occasionally reach out, gently cupping Y/N's face or intertwining their fingers, creating a palpable connection that resonated through the venue. The crowd, initially swept up in the spectacle, now watched in awe as this private, intimate moment unfolded on the public stage.

As the song reached its pinnacle, Renee knelt before Y/N, holding her hand and serenading her with a tenderness that resonated through the venue. The crowd, initially swept up in the spectacle, now watched in awe as this private moment unfolded on the public stage.

In the final moments, Renee rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving Y/N's, the concert hall erupted into thunderous applause, appreciating not just the performance but the genuine connection that had unfolded before their eyes.

Still holding Y/N's hand, Renee delivered the closing lines with heartfelt sincerity. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, appreciating not just the performance, but the genuine connection between the two women who had shared a musical love story on stage.

As the final notes faded away, Renee and Y/N shared a knowing smile, their hearts entwined in the melody of love that echoed through the concert hall, leaving an indelible mark on everyone fortunate enough to witness the enchanting performance.

#lesbian #wlw #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #lgbtq #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #mean girls

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blingblong55 · 4 months

Text

Must be love -Simon "Ghost" Riley

Photo credit: @ave661 ---- F!Reader, plus size!reader, fluff, comfort, established!relationship, body image issues ----

A/N: I love him I love him I love him I love him I love him

He was home late, the sun outside gone by the time he walked through the door and then he heard it, small cries coming from the bathroom. Oh his pretty princess, getting into that head of yours. He shakes his head, walks into the bathroom and the image in front of him breaks his heart. In your bra and panties, hand over your soft tummy as tears run down your delicate face. "Oh, my love," his warm and strong arms wrapping you in a comforting hug. You look up at him through the mirror, his chin resting on the top of your head.

The bathroom is silent, only your breathing being the sound in that room. He shakes his head, "I don't care what you say or think, I love you for you, so...let me remind you of that," his lips begin to trail to your neck but you push away. Putting the robe on and walk away from him. He frowns, this time, you definitely must be way too deep in your head. He tries to pull you back in as he follows you around the place.

"What is the matter, darling?"

You sigh and turn to him, “Simon, just say it, if my body bothers you just say it. I don’t want you to pretend you like what you see.” Tears run down your delicate face just like before. “Honestly, I do find you attractive. Your body doesn’t bother me. I know the problem is your weight and how you look but that doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive because my love, to me, god...to me you are the epitome of perfection. You are the pinnacle of what a goddess looks like," he tries to make you understand.

You shake your head, not taking in his words, "Bullshit. Just admit it, admit you want some skinny, perfect girl that looks like a model and not this!" You hold your tummy. He sighs in frustration, "I don't want that! I don't want someone else! Fuck-I want you R/N!" Tears form in his eyes. If only you could see your beauty. How the sun shines brighter, how the world seems to stop just to admire you. He was so used to being cold, to never say too much but in this moment, all emotions rushed in. He takes a deep breath and looks at you, "I care about you, I do. You are the best god damn fucking thing that's happened to me in years. I don't want anyone else, I don't care what others say about our love. To me, this is perfection, the way you smile, the way you love me, and care for me and I love how you cuddle to me in the morning, I love all things about you, why can't you see that?"

He goes to cup your face but you look down, biting your tongue down as you wipe your tears away. Simon is desperate now, his voice softer than before. "My darling, don't shut me out. Let's not do this, don't shut me out," he pleas.

“Why do you fancy me?” You look down at your body.

"Easy. Your personality is amazing. You are this very kind, sweet and patient woman. I don't think I have ever met a girl with your qualities. When I was younger I admit I dated girls for their looks and with you...oh aren't you special." His voice was soft like he was reading some poem. "You are the first woman that I've fallen in love with for her personality and that is far more important than looks. You are a million-no..a billion times more important to me than all those women before you."

"Aren't you ashamed for dating..this?" Your voice is small, trying to find its place in a room full of devotion. Simon shakes his head, getting annoyed at you. "Why must you call yourself "this"? You are my girlfriend. And to answer that stupid question, no, I'm not ashamed, not at all. The more I see you, the more I find you beautiful." You look up at him, "People must think you've gone mad for going out with me-" he doesn't let you finish that sentence.

"Lovie, I don't give a fuck. I'm not in a relationship to impress everyone. My feelings are genuine, you are the one thing that matters to me. And if I cared about a bunch of superficial cunts thought about you then I'd be dead..because I'd die fighting to love you out loud." Why must his love talk down about her physical appearance? Why can't you understand he'd die for one kiss from those sweet lips of yours?

And, still, in that head, you look up at him, saying yet another idiotic sentence, "You shouldn't be with me." In that head of yours, he was this strong, attractive, smart and genuinely good man so it didn't make sense that he chose you. From all the women in the world, he chose you, kissed you and whispered I love you into your ear. Simon is disheartened by this. "That's it, you hear me!? I'm getting tired of you talking shit about the girl I love. I would pick you up in a room full of models. What, do you want me to just date someone else?"

You shrug at that question "I'm just your fat fucking girlfriend." He gets furious, "Fucking shit, my love! Why are you acting like this? I don't give a fuck about anyone else. They aren't important to me, you are. Don't you hear what else I've got to say? I love you for who you are, not for your looks! I don't see you as "my fat girlfriend". You are the love of my life. Can't you understand that, my love?"

“Because how can you love me!”

He shakes his head and pulls you in, "I love you, okay? Get that shit through your stubborn head. I love all of you from your personality to that amazing body of yours. I love that adorable face of yours, the soft curves you have and your everything. I would do anything for you, you ask it and I do it. I don't know how I can make you understand me but I want it to be clear that my love for you runs deep."

You break down crying and he pulls you into one of his cosy and strong hugs. "Oh my love, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you this way, I didn't mean to make you upset." Your sobs are muffled by his hold on you. "You can't keep putting yourself down. I was angry, yes my love, but now all I care about is making you happy and letting you know, you are loved." He kisses your forehead, "I love you so much, don't forget it," he whispers.

Just as you are about to say something, he picks you up. "Let me cuddle the negativity out of you, lovie," he smiles, walking up the stairs. "..Am I heavy-?" He shakes his head, giving you another kiss on the cheek, "Darling, no. I'm meant to carry my lovie," he lays you on the bed, placing all the pillows around you. "Comfortable, lovie?" His voice is soft. You nod, "Thank you, Si," you reach for him and with his winning smile, he lays beside you, cuddling you.

"I always dreamed of having a sweet girl all to myself," he mentions casually and you look back. "Don't make me emotional," you nudge him and he laughs. What a sweet noise that laugh is. It's lazy but still so sweet to your ears. Your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat comforting you. "I'll always love you, Simon."

"To the moon and back," he whispers.

A/N: I didn't tag those in the tag list since I wasn't sure anyone would be comfortable with being tagged in a plus-sized reader fic, I hope you understand

Tags:

@liyanahelena @aethelwyneleigh27 @carolfogosa @1234beeandpuppycat @l0nalol @idiotuvu-blog @willowaftxn83-87

Join my TagList

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deakyjoe · 1 year

Text

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 7

Paring: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her pronouns, British, backstory)

Category: slowburn coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: You and Simon take the next step towards happiness.

Warnings: smut (18+), f receiving oral, handjobs, vaginal fingering, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, praise kink, slightly sub!ghost, slightly dom!reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, swearing/cursing, British terminology/slang, the mask is off, domestic Ghost, brief mention of scars and stretch marks, this is just smut and fluff, *** to indicate where smut starts and ends

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: EJ doesn’t write and publish smut. EJ is a virgin who doesn’t know what sex is like in real life. EJ is nervous about posting this. Please be nice to EJ.

Part 8 here!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

The first time you met Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley you were rather disappointed. You'd heard tales of the mysterious killing machine who showed no mercy. But then, when you finally did come face to face with him, you discovered he was just a regular guy in a mask who complained when his tea was too hot to drink and when the chocolate digestive biscuits had run out. Hardly the legend everyone cracked him up to be.

And then you saw him in the field and your perception changed slightly. He was damn good at what he did. You'd be mildly impressed if you weren't already surrounded by the best of the best, yourself included. You weren't entirely convinced he was the scariest man ever to have lived, as everybody told you, but you could appreciate his skills. Sure, you were fearful of him in the way that he was your superior and you didn't want to make a bad first impression or have him kick you off the team. But you didn't think he was going to kill you in your sleep or anything as your new friend Sergeant MacTavish, better known as Soap, liked to joke.

However, your view of him changed again when he caught you and Soap in the rec room one evening. It was totally innocent. The two of you were unwinding from a long day by eating snacks, listening to music and sharing stories. You were in the middle of listening to a particularly good one from your fellow sergeant when your lieutenant walked in and his mouth snapped shut.

Ghost barely glanced at the two of you, face hidden by his infamous mask. It looked rather silly when he didn't have the rest of his tactical gear on.

"Carry on, Soap." You encouraged him, not put off by the presence of another person in the room. "What happened next?"

The Scot's eyes snapped back to yours and he cleared his throat. "Right, right uuhhh..."

He was cut off by Lieutenant Riley suddenly standing over the two of you behind the sofa, cup of tea clutched in his gloved hand. He was very sneaky. "No drinking on base."

You looked up to him, confused by what he was talking about before realising he was looking at the drink clasped in your hand. "It's apple juice, sir."

He said nothing, eyes burning through his mask into yours. You wouldn't back down from a stare off if that's what he wanted. If his game was intimidation then you wouldn't let him win. You'd grown used to men trying to put you down and you weren't going to let a man who hid his face behind a mask try to do the same.

"This music is inappropriate. Flirting between members of the team is forbidden." He really was trying to get you in trouble. But why? Did he already not like you?

You snorted at him. "I hardly think Sir Mix-a-Lot is the pinnacle of romance, lieutenant."

Soap's jaw hung open opposite you. He couldn't believe you were arguing with Ghost Riley. Especially as a new member of the team. It was risky. He respected it.

"Don't answer back, sergeant." He snapped, fist clenching at his side.

You just held your chin higher despite him towering over you. "I'm not, sir. I'm sure Sergeant MacTavish is a lovely man but, believe me, I have no interest in pursuing anyone on the team. And Sir Mix-a-Lot is certainly not my main means of seduction. I'm here to work. Nothing else."

If only you knew.

***

The kiss was feverish as Simon stumbled into your flat, not letting you go for a single second as he kicked the door shut harshly behind him and pushed his jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. There was a passionate clash of teeth and tongues as you slammed him back against the wood, needing to be as close to him as possible. You were not going to let him go full Ghost on you in this situation and take complete control of it. You wanted Simon. And you wanted some power.

But Simon was kissing you.

Simon was kissing you.

It finally dawned what was happening.

He tasted like the bourbon he'd been drinking earlier, not that you were complaining, and you wondered if you tasted of the apple martini he'd made for you. The apple martini he hated.

You pulled back suddenly. "Oh, god. Do I taste like the apple martini? I'm sor-"

He chuckled lowly, leaning back into you. "Stop talking for once, Sarge."

The kiss resumed and his hands roamed every inch of you that he could reach, not neglecting any point of your body. You clung to him desperately, never wanting to let go. You wanted to consume him. And let him consume you.

He was too tall, always too fucking tall. So you grabbed at his shirt and dragged him down to meet you halfway, legs sliding up the outside of his almost as if you were trying to climb him. And maybe you were.

Simon groaned lowly into your mouth, breaking away for a mere second to catch his breath and stare longingly down at you before diving straight back in. As your arms snaked around the back of his neck, he turned the two of you around so you were up against the door. And you needed the support as he started to pepper kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He found your weak spot as you whined and began to lick and suckle there repeatedly for good measure.

As much as it felt good, you needed more of him so you threaded your fingers through the back of his hair and guided his lips back to yours. "More kissing, Simon."

He obliged happily.

You'd never get enough. There would never be enough Simon Riley in this world to satisfy you. And he had a sneaking suspicion of that so he was going to do his damn best to give you as much as he could.

When he broke away again, you huffed in protest but quickly stopped when he sank down to the floor.

Having Lieutenant Simon Riley on his knees in front of you was the most exciting, and unexpected, moment of your life.

You'd store away the image in your memory forever.

He looked up at you with his wide, dark eyes and started unbuttoning your jeans. When he glanced back up at you again for permission to take them off you just nodded. They were pulled off and discarded, his stare fixing on the underwear you were wearing. It wasn't your nicest pair but Simon didn't seem to care much as he parted your thighs with his hands and stuck his head between them, inhaling deeply.

Before you knew it, they were torn off and Simon's mouth was latched onto your clit. The man did know his targets well.

"Oh, my- fuck!" You slapped your hand across your mouth, head thrown back and slamming against the door, as he sucked and flicked at it in utter desperation.

When you dared to look down at him, even more arousal stirred in you to see his eyes - his pretty, pretty eyes - were fixed on you and your reactions. He seemed to be concentrating on what felt good for you. People pleaser.

Moans and other pleasured sounds tumbled from your lips as he lifted one of your legs and manoeuvred it over his shoulder so you were spread wide for him, hand planted on your thigh to knead the flesh there. He changed positions after that, moving so his mouth was closer to your opening and his nose bumped against your clit for stimulation instead.

And you couldn't help yourself when your hips started grinding against his face of their own accord, pure lust powering you forward.

"Simon." A gasp of his name left your mouth as he lapped up everything you were giving him, hands laced in his hair to pull him impossibly closer to you.

The thought that you were doing this against your front door and that any of your neighbours could hear you if they simply walked past was long gone as the burning feeling of your impending orgasm built up within you. But, then again, it was past midnight on New Years. Any of your neighbours still awake would probably be partying and having too much of their own fun to take any notice of loud noises coming from your flat.

"So good." You said, chest heaving and face glistening with sweat. "So, so good, Simon."

He groaned into you, eyes closing for just a second making his fair eyelashes flutter, and went harder. He devoured you like a man starved.

And with a final buck of your hips that had the tip of his nose hitting your clit just right, you were speeding over the edge into blissful oblivion. It took every ounce of willpower for you not to scream as your legs turned to jelly. He kept you upright with his hands on your hips as he slid back up to his full height.

"You. Taste. Heavenly." Every word was punctuated by a kiss to your lips, each one tasting distinctly of you.

Your voice was ragged as your eyelids became hooded and you grabbed his hand. "Bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am." He had no ounce of protest in him as he allowed you to drag him through your flat and to your room. Now things were started he wasn't going to hold back at all. He'd been denying himself of this for too long. He felt like it was deserved. Both for him and for you.

What he didn't expect was for you to take complete control as soon as you got there, pushing him onto the bed and demanding him to sit up against the headboard as he kicked his shoes off.

And when you crawled over to him and straddled his lap, lips immediately landing on his to kiss him even more, he felt a tingling inside of himself. It was a kind of buzz, almost like he was drunk but not quite. Maybe drunk on you. And the feeling of you against him.

You were underwear-less now, only a bra and shirt covering you, so when you started to softly grind against him Simon thought his brain might explode. Or other parts of him.

But you didn't give up, even as he grew painfully hard underneath you, you just kept going. You just kissed and kissed and kissed at his swollen lips, not being able to stop yourself.

But then you suddenly pulled back and looked down at him, head tilting to the side slightly. Your hands tapped along the hem of his shirt, barely grazing the skin of his stomach. "You're wearing too many clothes. May I?" You asked and he nodded, breathless. "Out loud."

"Yes." He was never going to say no to you. Especially not now. He'd lost the ability to deny you of anything a long time ago.

You tugged the shirt off of him and over his head, eyes immediately landing on his bare torso that was only very partially obscured by his dog tags. He was toned, that was for sure, but you knew that already and you admired the tattoos dispersed up and down his arms, encroaching onto his chest. However, you were more focused on the subtle things. The small freckles scattered in various places, scars marking the pale tone of his skin, a patch of hair on his lower abdomen that trailed off in a little path underneath his belt. Even the faded stretch marks dotted across the plains of his body.

You sighed happily. "You're so gorgeous it's unfair, Simon. Blond and pretty."

He flushed at that, blaming the heat in his cheeks on being turned on, and pulled you back in to kiss him to distract himself from it.

Your nails raked down his chest, arms lifting up when he pulled your own shirt off of you. His large hands explored the expanse of your skin, trailing up and down your sides before going to your back, undoing your bra and tossing it to the side. Like him, only your dog tags were left to cover the bare skin of your chest.

His eyes were drawn to the dog tags hanging around your neck, the chain settled in the valley of your breasts, and you both knew what you were thinking. The fantasy Simon had confided in you. But, silently, you agreed it was for another time.

His hands were warm when they landed on your chest, which you were thankful for, as they kneaded, pulled, tugged and tweaked. It felt good but you wanted to give him more.

"Can I touch you, Simon?" You asked, smiling when he nodded eagerly.

Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, no patience left within you, and you pulled his trousers and underwear down just enough to release him once the belt was undone.

You stared at him.

Simon felt self-conscious.

He had no reason to.

He was long and thick, your mouth watering at the sight. Oh, how you longed for him. To have him in your mouth. To taste him. To feel him inside you. But that was for another time.

As soon as your hand wrapped around him his eyes screwed shut and his head was thrown back against the wall, soft sounds leaving his mouth.

"Mm-mm. Eyes open and on me, Simon." You said quietly, watching his chest heave and his breaths come out raggedly.

His eyes shot open at the mention of his name, cheeks pink and rosy as he made eye contact with you.

"So pretty..." You trailed off, smiling at him. He really was beautiful. Especially like this. "Come on, pretty boy. Keep making those pretty, little noises for me."

He whimpered, actually whimpered.

"Oh-ho-ho! Do you like praise, Simon?"

He nodded frantically, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. "Please."

"You like to hear how well you're doing for me? How beautiful you look? Hm?"

Your hand tightened around his tip before you sunk it back down again to the base, twisting your wrist to give him more friction.

A garbled sentence left his mouth, something incoherent he was saying to himself.

"Speak up, Riley. I need to hear you." You looked away from his face for a moment to where your hand was pumping him, speeding up the action slightly.

"Fuck, so close. I'm gonna- gonna-"

"Already?" You raised your brows at him. You weren’t disappointed, just surprised and rather flattered.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry." He apologised profusely, face scrunched and hands clawing at the bedsheets on either side of him. "So, so sorry. Fuck-"

"It's okay. Come for me." And all it took was a swipe of your thumb over his tip.

He groaned lowly as hot ropes of cum spurted from him, coating your hand and his stomach. More laboured breathing from him had you placing your clean hand on his chest to calm him down.

***

"Breathe, Simon. Inhale... Exhale... Good." You leant forward and kissed his cheek before looking down at the mess beneath you. "Umm..."

"Shit, uh..." He reached for the tissues next to your bed and frantically wiped away what he could. "You might need to wash your hands."

"Probably." You smiled at him.

"I'm sorry that I... so fast." He panted, face scrunched in... embarrassment?

"Don't apologise. If I'm sitting here calling you pretty and encouraging it, then I want you to come." You revelled in the way his cheeks flushed and his eyes widened a fraction.

"But we didn't- you didn't-"

You shook your head, crawling off of him to go to the bathroom. "You already made me come."

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts." You tutted and called over your shoulder one last time before disappearing out of the room. "I'll be back in a minute."

You could feel his stare on the back of you as you left, smiling at the idea of him watching you. When you returned a couple of minutes later with a damp cloth in your hand to clean him up, you found him staring at the wall opposite and twiddling his thumbs together. He looked anxious.

"What's wrong?" You asked softly as you sat down next to him and wiped his stomach.

"Nothing." He answered too quickly for your liking.

"C'mon, Simon. I know you now. Don't lie to me. Please. You can tell me." You glanced back up at him as you finished, turning slightly to throw the cloth into your laundry hamper in the corner of your room. You managed to get it in, you did have impeccable aim.

He didn't answer as he watched you crawl over him to the unoccupied side of the bed and get under the duvet.

"At least take off your jeans and get in here with me." You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow. And when he still did nothing, you had a sudden realisation. "Unless you want to leave. Because you were leaving before you came back..."

The idea broke your heart. Maybe he wanted this to be a one time thing to let off some steam, to alleviate the tension that had been growing between you. What if this wasn't what you hoped it would be?

He snapped out of his daze at that, standing and pushing off the rest of his clothes before diving in next to you and sidling up close. "No, no. Don't say that. I don't want to leave."

"Okay, good." You smiled at him, getting slightly closer. "Tell me what's wrong."

He chewed absentmindedly on his inner cheek. "Overthinking."

It was a simple answer that didn't explain much. But you understood him.

"Okay." Your hand lifted to his face, thumb swiping over cheek softly as you kissed him gently. "You can tell me whatever you need to whenever you need to."

He nodded, kissing you again.

Your fingers moved to the back of his head, carding through the blond strands. His eyes fluttered shut, a relieved breath leaving his mouth.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I overthink. Especially with this."

"Don't apologise, Simon." You chuckled, wanting to lighten the mood. "Thought you told me you were more dominant in bed."

"Nuh-uh. I told you it depends." He smiled back, one of his proper smiles that was reserved only for you to see as his eyes snapped back open.

"Lucky me then."

There was a short moment of silence before you approached the topic that was eating away at you.

"Why now?" You asked, shifting so your noses grazed against one another.

"Because I've wanted to for a while." He kissed you quickly, hand tracing over your hip. "And because I'm selfish."

Curious. "Selfish?"

"Too selfish to think about the consequences because I want you too much."

Huh. "Meaning?"

He paused, thinking about his words carefully. "I'm prioritising my wants, pleasures, needs over logical arguments."

"You make no sense, Riley. But I'll take it if it means this." You sighed into his mouth as you kissed him again. "I wish you'd done it sooner. We've been spending time together for months."

"I wouldn't let myself. It's not allowed. Technically." He added the last bit on hastily. "And I wasn't going to allow it to happen."

"You were going to ignore your feelings?" You couldn't judge him exactly. You'd been doing the same.

"Have been for months. Unsuccessfully." He grunted, winding his hand around your waist and tugging you closer so you were chest to chest. "But you wouldn't leave me alone."

"Hey! I offered you an out." You protested weakly, smiling widely at him still.

"Didn't mean literally." He huffed. "Just constantly on my fucking mind."

Your eyes brightened at that and Simon felt himself fall just that little bit farther. You, on the other hand, were trying to control yourself. There were three options: jump him again, confess your undying love or just stay quiet in the hopes he'd say a little more.

Option three was the safest.

He kissed you again, lingering for a moment this time. "Couldn't get you off my bloody mind. Always ticking around in there."

"I'm flattered, Riley." You whispered. "Does that mean I'm the last thing you masturbated to which is why you refused to answer during Truth or Drink?"

"Classified." He paused. "But yes."

You giggled and pressed your lips against his, moaning quietly when he rolled the two of you over so you were underneath him.

He pulled away for a moment, mumbling into your mouth. "Definitely worth any consequences."

You were wildly inquisitive about the whole thing, unable to stop yourself from inquiring. "What are the potential consequences?"

"Dishonourably discharged."

"Wait, really?" You pushed slightly on his chest, suddenly panicked at the idea.

"Nah." Dickhead. "Could be reassigned."

You whined quietly. "That's shit."

"Mhm, don't think Price would let it happen though." He lowered himself down again and planted an open mouthed kiss on your jaw, grazing his teeth against your skin. "I wouldn't let him let it happen."

You sighed contently, arms snaking around his back. "Hmm, and why's that?"

"I'm rather fond of you."

"Rather fond of me... what are you? Eighty?" You cackled, chest rumbling against his.

He rolled his eyes at you. "Ever the charmer, Sarge."

"I'm sorry." You mock pouted. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Shut up." He silenced you with his own mouth, tongue curling against yours, and revelled in the sigh you let out against him.

But you weren't done with your interrogation, forever wanting to know more. "Why did you tell me happy new year before you kissed me?"

"Because I wanted to kiss you at midnight." He said it like it was obvious. It wasn't.

"Why didn't you?" Your nose scrunched so Simon smoothed it out with his thumb.

"Didn't think it'd be a good idea." The warm brown of his eyes flickered as his gaze roamed your face, finally taking in how lucky he was being able to look at you so close up.

"But you changed your mind." You offered, assuming that was right.

It was. "I did."

"Why?"

He chuckled. "So many questions."

You cowered slightly. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Sarge." He bumped his nose against yours. "You looked sad when I didn't."

Oh, bollocks. "You noticed that?"

He nodded, looking as if he pitied you. "You're not very good at hiding your emotions. Your face speaks volumes."

Double bollocks. "Then you must've known how I felt for ages."

"Suspected. Thought it was wishful thinking."

There were a whole array of words to express how stupid he was. You refrained from using all of them and stayed silent.

Unlucky for you, Simon could read it on your face. "I can tell you're itching to insult me."

"But I'm not going to." You shook your head, readjusting on the pillow beneath you. "All I'll say is... you're so pretty, Simon."

"Oh, bugger off." He moved to push away from you completely.

But you had other plans as you tightened your hold around his back. "Never!"

***

He landed on top of you with a groan and a mumbled apology. It was fine. You were trained to drag about three fully grown men out of a burning if you had to. He felt like nothing on top of you despite being six foot four and muscly as hell. It was rather nice actually, feeling all of him pressed up against you. And yes, that meant all of him.

Skin heating up at that, you hoped he didn't notice how you were suddenly burning as he lifted himself back onto his elbows and looked down at you. Nothing was said on the matter, which you were glad about. What you were even more glad about was him mumbling something about wanting more orgasms out of you and then proceeding to lower himself down your body, trailing tender kisses across your skin as he went.

When he got far enough down, Simon situated himself between your legs. It seemed to be his favourite place in recent times. Secretly, he'd admit it was. You didn't protest when he placed a large hand on either thigh and opened you up for him again, just let him do what he wanted. And he seemed very happy to spend his time pleasuring you and making sure you felt good even though he appeared to care very little about himself.

So, that's how you spent god knows how long. You writhing underneath his firm grip and him spending a countless amount of time between your legs as he drew out orgasm after orgasm. Even when you became sensitive and the overstimulation was getting to be too much, he just cooed and encouraged you further.

"Come on, Sarge. I know you can do one more for me. Just one more." He comforted you, fingers of one hand stroking the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the fingers of the other hand inside you. "Good girl. Come on."

Maybe he wasn't the only one with a thing for praise.

And after what seemed like hours of pure delight for you, he was finally satisfied with what he'd done and tentatively returned to his space next to you in bed.

He fell asleep quickly after that, you wrapped in his arms, with a relaxed expression on his face. And when you finally joined him in his state of unconsciousness after watching him breathe deeply for a while, you dreamt only of him. His face, his touch, his eyes roaming your mind. It was peaceful. And you were happy.

When you awoke to Simon placing lazy kisses along your shoulder you thought maybe you'd died and gone to heaven. The only reminder that this was still reality was the soreness between your legs and the dull ache you still had for him, craving him.

He was behind you, spooning you, and you could feel he was already hard against your back. "Good morning, Sarge."

Morning voice. Husky. Deep. Delectable. You could drown in it.

"Good morning." You returned, pressing back against him and loving the hiss he let out.

And before you knew it, your head was angled awkwardly to look over your shoulder so you could kiss him and he was sliding into you. Finally. You gasped into his mouth when he did, immediately urging him to move. His hands gripped your hips tightly, using you to help the friction.

You rocked against each other, the position not being one of your favourites as you couldn't see his face or reactions properly, but he made up for it with the sounds he was letting out right next to your ear. And it was intimate, you were still practically cuddling.

"Fuck, Sarge." He groaned into your shoulder, biting down slightly to muffle himself.

That only set you off further, grinding yourself back harder against him. You could do this forever, never wanted him to stop. No, you needed him to never stop. This was perfect. The two of you alone forever in your bed, not a care in the world. Just rounds and rounds of sex and the occasional conversation here and there.

You were caught off guard by his hand snaking around to your front and his fingers suddenly circling your clit.

You gasped and bucked against his hand. "Simo-" His name was cut off by another choked sound leaving your mouth. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

It didn't need to be said, the promise of not stopping was silent. But he gave you verbal confirmation anyway. "Never, Sarge. Come on. Come for me. That's it, good girl.”

The climax was approaching rapidly and he knew that from the way you were beginning to spasm around him, his own also crawling up on him. But you were priority.

So he held off until you were spent, head thrown back against him and eyes screwed shut as you let out breathless pants in a mixture of soft sounds.

He didn't stop, just quickened his pace as he hips began to falter. "Where, Sarge?"

You knew what he meant. "In me. Please, in me."

So he did. His warmth filled you up as he came inside you, immediately relaxing behind you with more kisses scattered along the skin of your shoulder.

After he pulled out of you, it took a few moments before you managed to catch your breath again. God, you'd never get enough of this.

***

There was suddenly heavy breathing behind you. Simon had fallen asleep again. Typical man.

With the remnants of him dripping out of you, you rushed off to the toilet to clean up and get partially ready for the day - you brushed your teeth and put on some clean clothes. When you were done, you returned to your bedroom to find him still fast asleep. You could leave him for a while longer. He always looked tired.

You trotted to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea, getting out a second mug and teabag for Simon when he finally woke up for good.

With your cup of tea in one hand and your phone in the other as you checked all your messages from friends wishing you a happy new year, you leant against the counter and failed to notice a certain someone waking up in your room some time later.

Simon awoke to a cold bed, his arm stretching out to find you only for you not to be there. He felt disappointed for a moment before remembering the events of earlier in the morning. Shit, had he really fallen back to sleep instantly?

A sense of embarrassment flooding through him, he sat up quickly and looked around. His clothes were tossed to various places around the room, as were yours. You really hadn't bothered to clean up. He liked that for some reason.

He had nothing else with him so just pulled his t-shirt and boxer briefs back on from the day before, hoping they weren't too crinkled. But he doubted you'd care if they were.

Then, before leaving your bedroom, he thought of you. And what had finally happened between the two of you. Even though he probably should've, he didn't regret it one bit.

Simon Riley had been torturing himself for weeks over you. The feelings had started growing as soon as you smiled at him in the goddamn cheese aisle, before you even knew who he was. And whilst they hadn't solidified until a little more down the line, he knew he wouldn't be able to let you go after that. And when you actually seemed to like him - him, not Ghost, not Lieutenant Riley, just Simon - he knew he was inevitably screwed.

It didn't help that you looked at him so adoringly, never a glimpse of hostility in your sparkling eyes, with an ever permanent smile on your lips. It's like you were daring him to try not being head over heels for you. And he'd hate himself for breaking every rule ever laid out to him by Price and other higher ups if you didn't make him feel so good, so warm inside.

And that's exactly what he felt as he walked in on you in your kitchen, humming to yourself as you rifled through your fridge for something to eat. The usual tingling sensation you set off in him was in full power as you turned to him, smiling spreading at the sight of him and eyes twinkling. It didn't help that you looked flushed and glowing with your slightly messed up hair and shaky legs. Freshly fucked, he'd describe it as. And he was the cause.

He approached you without a moment of hesitation, cupped your face in his hands and kissed you. "Good morning, Sarge."

You smiled against his mouth. "Second good morning, actually. We already did this once."

"Mhm, and what an amazing first good morning it was." He hummed against you, kissing you again. And again. And again.

Reluctantly you broke away, not fully out of his grasp though. "Do you want tea?"

"I'd love tea." He replied, still not letting you go.

"Simon, I need my body to make you tea." You chortled.

"And I need your body for other things." He whispered into your ear.

"Cheeky." You scoffed and pushed him away. "I will make you tea. Go sit down."

He agreed only after planting another lingering kiss on you and left for the living room. This was surreal to him. He was with someone he liked. Who liked him back. And you were... happy together. There was no underlying venom or bitterness fuelling the feelings, specifically the lust, between you. This kind of thing didn't happen for Simon Riley. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he'd wake up in some cold safe house a million miles away from here only to find out this was some sick fantasy his mind conjured to play cruel tricks on him. But you were so warm and so good, so everything Simon didn't deserve. Which is why he'd selfishly keep you for as long as he could.

And when you emerged out of the kitchen, precariously balancing two cups of tea, with a look towards him full of adoration, he knew he was so screwed that it was almost funny. Simon decided then that if you thought about him half as often as he thought about you, with just a pinch of the infatuation he felt for you, that he was a very lucky man.

"I haven't got much for breakfast, I'm afraid. Probably got a box of Cheerios or something in a cupboard. Or we could go out to eat. If you'd like." You suggested, stood in front of him with your hands twisting together in embarrassment. You weren't used to hosting company in the mornings and having him here was so strange after him leaving before daybreak all the previous times he'd slept on your sofa. This was different though. This time he'd slept in your bed.

Simon stared up at you, intensity gone from his gaze to leave only affection. "I don't care." He really didn't.

He didn't need some fancy breakfast cooked up for him. He didn't need the probably stale cereal you offered. He didn't need anything aside from one thing.

All he needed, for now, was you.

A/N: I’ll let them be happy… for now. Please don’t comment on the smut if it’s bad. And full disclosure: Sarge and Soap were listening to Baby Got Back.

Thanks to @ramadiiiisme for consulting with me on the smut 🙏🥰

1K notes · View notes

bitchiswild · 4 months

Text

Winter Ball

Kim Minjeong x F! Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 3.5k

A/n: ❄️🎻🪩

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

The Winter Ball, an event steeped in opulence and prestige, stands as the pinnacle of the year's social calendar. Within its glittering halls, destinies intertwine, where chance encounters spark romances and hearts both unite and fracture. This illustrious affair owes its existence to the esteemed Kim Seok, a titan among elites, who christened the gala in honor of his beloved daughter, Kim Minjeong, affectionately known as Winter.

Beyond its facade of elegance and grandeur, the Winter Ball is a nexus of strategic alliances and lucrative sponsorships, where business dealings are as commonplace as swirling waltzes and whispered confessions. Yet, amid the clinking glasses and shimmering gowns, there exists an unwritten expectation, one fervently held by Kim Seok himself. With each meticulously planned Winter Ball, he harbors a silent hope—a hope that his daughter, Winter, might find love amidst the enchanting splendor.

Winter, however, is a vision of independence and conviction. Echoing her father's unyielding spirit, she rebuffs the allure of romantic entanglements with a steadfast declaration: "I have no need for such entrapments. Love is a fallacy." Yet, despite her protestations, Kim Seok discerns a familiar skepticism in her words, a reflection of his own past reservations before fate introduced him to the love of his life—Winter's mother.

In the depths of his heart, Kim Seok yearns for Winter to experience the transformative power of love, much as he did. With an ardent wish that transcends the gilded confines of the Winter Ball, he quietly prays for the serendipitous arrival of the one who will awaken his daughter's belief in love, just as it was once awakened within him.

As the anticipation mounts and the chandeliers cast their ethereal glow upon the revelers, Kim Seok watches over the festivities, his paternal gaze holding a silent plea to the stars: that Winter, his cherished daughter, may find within this glittering celebration the key to unlock the guarded chambers of her heart.

~~~

Winters POV

I let out a resigned sigh, my eyes scanning the elegantly adorned room filled with twirling couples lost in their own romantic reverie. Amidst the enchanting melodies and graceful waltzes, I stood on the periphery, a silent observer of a spectacle that failed to captivate my convictions. Love, in my view, was a frivolous pursuit—an enigmatic dance of emotions I had no desire to partake in. Love at first sight? Ridiculous.

"Minjeong!" Jimin's voice interrupted my musings, drawing my attention to my ever-optimistic best friend. She flashed a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with a certainty that often accompanied her unwavering faith in matters of the heart.

"You're always so dismissive about love, but mark my words, one day you'll see. It'll all make sense," she remarked, her tone laced with a playful certainty that mirrored her perpetual optimism.

I couldn't help but scoff. "You say that as if it's some inevitable epiphany waiting to happen."

Jimin chuckled, her laughter carrying a hint of affectionate exasperation. "Trust me, Minjeong. Once you experience it, your perspective will shift entirely. Love won't seem like a waste of time anymore."

Her words lingered in the air as she sauntered away, disappearing into the crowd with her partner, leaving me to ponder her unwavering belief in the inexplicable magic of love.

Despite my protestations, I couldn't shake off the echo of her words. Was there a kernel of truth in her confident assertions? Could love truly transform one's outlook, turning what I deemed as frivolous into something profound and meaningful?

As the music swelled and the enchantment of the Winter Ball continued to weave its spell around the room, I found myself caught in a fleeting moment of contemplation. Perhaps, just perhaps, amidst the sea of skeptics, cynics, and believers alike, there existed a truth waiting to reveal itself—a truth about love that I had yet to uncover.

As I made my way towards the refreshments, a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught my attention. A figure, graceful and poised, mirrored my steps toward the drink table. Her presence, almost magnetic, tugged at my senses, and for a fleeting moment, the room seemed to shrink, centering around this enigmatic stranger.

"Sorry, am I in your way?" Her gentle voice broke the spell, drawing me from my reverie. I shook my head, startled by the sudden rush of emotions that stirred within me. "N-No, you're not. It's okay," I managed to stutter out, my heart thundering in my chest.

She giggled, her laughter a melody that resonated through the air, and in that moment, it felt like I was enveloped in pure bliss. Was this the inexplicable sensation Jimin spoke of—the rush of emotions, the rapid heartbeat, all in the presence of a stranger? Could this be the much-dismissed notion of love at first sight?

Summoning an ounce of courage I hadn't known I possessed, I extended my hand towards her. "My name's Minjeong. What's yours?" The words stumbled out, coated in a mix of nerves and excitement.

The girl turned toward me, her eyes sparkling with an unspoken allure. "Y/n," she replied, taking my hand in hers. "Nice to meet you, Minjeong. But I've got to get going; my friends are waiting for me. I'll see you on the dance floor?" Her words lingered in the air, a question tinged with a hint of anticipation.

I could only nod dumbly, lost momentarily in the radiance of her smile. As she giggled and gracefully departed, I felt a rush of relief flood through me. It was as if the weight of the moment lifted as she left my vicinity. Gathering my composure, I hurriedly made my way through the crowd, seeking out Jimin amidst the throng of revelers.

"Jimin!" I called out, scanning the crowd for my ever-supportive best friend. Spotting her animatedly conversing with a group nearby, I navigated through the sea of dancers and socialites, eager to share the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

"Minjeong, there you are!" Jimin's eyes lit up as she noticed me approaching, her expression expectant. "Did you find yourself a drink?"

I chuckled, trying to compose myself after the unexpected encounter. "Yeah, but more importantly, Jimin, I just had the most...unexpected moment."

Jimin arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Oh? Do tell!"

I recounted the brief yet intense interaction with Y/n, the rush of emotions, and the lingering sensation of having stumbled upon something inexplicably enchanting.

Jimin's grin widened with each word, a silent acknowledgment dancing in her eyes. "Minjeong, could it be? Love at first sight?"

I hesitated, grappling with the idea I'd dismissed moments before. "I don't know, Jimin. It sounds so cliché, doesn't it? But there was something about her... It was different."

Jimin's laughter bubbled forth. "Welcome to the club, Minjeong! Looks like someone's heart might be softening after all."

I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn't deny the fluttering feeling in my chest, a strange mix of nervousness and excitement at the thought of seeing Y/n again.

"Will you go dance with her?" Jimin nudged, her gaze filled with encouragement.

"I-I think so," I stammered, surprised by my own resolve. "I hope I see her there."

With Jimin's teasing encouragement and the memory of Y/n's smile lingering in my mind, I found myself swaying to the music, unable to shake off the lingering anticipation of a potential reunion.

As the night progressed and the melodies intertwined with laughter and whispers, I couldn't help but steal glances around the room, hoping for another glimpse of Y/n amidst the swirling crowd.

Time had passed, and there was no sight of Y/n. Faint disappointment settled in as I made my way back to the bar, hoping to find solace in another drink. Yet, to my surprise, there she was, standing next to a guy who seemed to be making her visibly uncomfortable.

My steps faltered as I approached the bar, the familiar sight of Y/n amidst an uncomfortable interaction stopping me in my tracks. A knot formed in my stomach, an instinctive urge to intervene surging within me.

Y/n stood there, her expression strained, a polite yet uneasy smile plastered on her face. Beside her loomed a guy, his demeanor exuding an unsettling sense of entitlement. His persistent attempts at conversation were met with Y/n's subtle but visible discomfort.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" I questioned, my voice poised but carrying an underlying concern.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, a hint of relief flickering across her face. "Minjeong! I'm so glad you're here," she responded, her voice tinged with gratitude.

I turned my attention to the guy beside her, offering a friendly yet assertive smile. "Hi there! I'm Minjeong. Sorry to interrupt, but Y/n and I have some catching up to do, right?"

The guy glanced between us, seemingly taken aback but sensing the shift in the atmosphere, he excused himself with a half-hearted smile and sauntered away.

Y/n exhaled a breath she seemed to have been holding, offering me a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minjeong. That was...unexpected."

I shrugged, trying to downplay the gravity of the situation. "No problem. Looked like you needed a rescue."

As the tension dissipated, Y/n's gaze met mine, a silent understanding passing between us. The brief yet charged moment solidified something unspoken, a connection forming in the wake of an unexpected rescue.

"Hey, let's grab that drink together," I suggested, hoping to offer some reprieve from the uncomfortable encounter.

Y/n's smile widened, a genuine spark returning to her eyes. "I'd like that."

As we moved towards the bar, the weight of the encounter fading into the background, a newfound sense of camaraderie and intrigue filled the space between us.

The ambient glow of the Winter Ball seemed to dim in the wake of the burgeoning connection between Y/n and me. We settled at a quieter corner of the bustling venue, cocooned in our own world, amid the gentle hum of conversations and the occasional tinkling of glasses.

"So, Minjeong," Y/n began, her voice a melodic invitation to unravel the layers of our mutual acquaintance. "What brings you to the Winter Ball?"

I shared anecdotes about attending with Karina, my father's insistence on finding love for me at these events, and my own skepticism about the enchantment of love.

"And what about you, Y/n?" I inquired, eager to reciprocate the sharing. "How did you end up here?"

She laughed softly, the sound like a symphony in the midst of the ball's elegance. "Honestly, I was dragged here by a friend. Not much of a fan of these extravagant affairs myself."

As we conversed, the conversation flowed effortlessly, each exchange peeling away the layers of initial awkwardness. We discovered shared interests, from music preferences to our views on the complexities of life. There was a comfortable rhythm to our interaction, a natural chemistry that seemed to bridge any gap between us.

Time ceased to exist as we exchanged stories, laughter, and thoughts. The once-imposing Winter Ball now felt like an intimate setting, our dialogue weaving an invisible thread between us, binding our newfound connection.

The night wore on, the music shifting from lively tunes to mellower melodies, yet our conversation continued, unhurried and unreserved. Amidst the glamour and opulence of the ball, a genuine connection had blossomed—a serendipitous encounter that defied the confines of the grand event.

As the evening drew to a close and the final strains of music echoed through the hall, I realized that amidst the sea of faces and fleeting encounters, I had found an unexpected and cherished connection in Y/n.

Our exchange continued, weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and aspirations. As the night unfolded its secrets, we found ourselves drawn to the idea that chance encounters often held the most unforeseen treasures.

Eventually, the allure of the wintry night beckoned, and Y/n suggested we step outside to catch a breath of fresh air. The grand doors opened, leading us to the quiet serenity of the winter landscape outside.

A hushed blanket of snow had begun to descend, painting the night in a soft, ethereal glow. The air was crisp, and the gentle flakes danced around us, adding a touch of enchantment to the already magical evening.

Y/n and I stood side by side, gazing at the mesmerizing sight before us. The snowflakes twirled in the air, creating a tranquil scene that felt straight out of a storybook.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

Y/n nodded in agreement, her eyes reflecting the soft glimmer of the falling snow. "It really is. There's something so serene about snowfall, isn't there?"

We stood there, amidst the quiet elegance of the wintry night, sharing a moment that transcended the grandeur of the Winter Ball. The snowflakes continued their graceful descent, enveloping us in a cocoon of tranquility and wonder.

In that peaceful solitude, our conversation took on a more introspective tone. We spoke of dreams, aspirations, and the inexplicable beauty found in the simplest of moments—a shared understanding that seemed to deepen the connection between us.

As the snow continued to cascade from the heavens, we exchanged quiet smiles, a silent acknowledgment of the rare beauty of this shared moment. For in the delicate dance of snowflakes and the whispers of our conversation, something special had bloomed between us.

As the delicate snowflakes continued their graceful descent, an unspoken warmth enveloped us in a cocoon of shared moments and unspoken sentiments. I turned to Y/n, a genuine sincerity coloring my words.

"I really enjoy your company, Y/n," I expressed, my voice carrying the weight of truth and vulnerability.

Her eyes sparkled with a reflective radiance, mirroring the sentiment. "I enjoy your company too, Minjeong," she replied, her smile a testament to the comfort found in our connection.

We stood there, side by side, witnessing the tranquil spectacle of the first snowfall. The silence between us was filled with unspoken words, an uncharted territory of emotions and possibilities.

"You know what they say about the first snow," I remarked, breaking the tranquil silence between us.

Y/n turned to me, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "No, what is it?" she asked, her voice soft and attentive.

"It's where you make a wish, and they say it might just come true," I explained, a tinge of wistfulness in my tone.

"Make a wish, Minjeong," she encouraged gently, her eyes filled with a gentle encouragement that urged me to embrace the moment.

I let out a sigh, the weight of my wish settling in my chest. "I wish to take you out on a date," I confessed, the words slipping out, carrying the earnestness of my feelings.

In the tranquil serenity of the wintry night, with snowflakes twirling around us like silent witnesses, I dared to voice a longing that had quietly blossomed within me.

Y/n's gaze held mine, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. Her soft smile echoed the silent understanding that had grown between us, a shared connection woven in the magical embrace of the first snow.

As the snowfall continued its gentle descent, a subtle chill began to permeate the air. I noticed Y/n subtly shivering, the cold seeping through the elegant attire she wore for the ball.

"You're getting cold, aren't you?" I asked, concern lacing my words as I observed her discomfort.

Y/n nodded, a faint blush gracing her cheeks. "A little, yes."

Without hesitation, I slipped off my own warm sweater, a comforting shield against the wintry chill, and offered it to her. "Here, take this. It's warmer," I insisted, my voice carrying both concern and a hint of bashfulness.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, her gaze meeting mine in a mix of gratitude and astonishment. "Minjeong, I couldn't—"

"Please," I urged gently, my smile attempting to ease any reservations she might have. "I want you to be warm."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Y/n accepted the sweater, wrapping it around herself with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minjeong. You're too kind."

The exchange brought an unexpected warmth to the wintry night—not just from the shared gesture but from the growing connection and the unspoken promise that hung between us.

With Y/n now shielded from the biting cold, our shared moment continued, the snowflakes descending around us in a silent ballet. The act of offering my sweater felt like a bridge between us, forging an unspoken closeness that transcended the physical warmth it provided.

As we stood there, enveloped in the beauty of the snowfall and the quiet understanding that bound us, the promise of a forthcoming date lingered in the air, an anticipation that added an extra layer of magic to the Winter Ball's enchanting allure.

The clock struck midnight, signaling the end of the enchanting evening. Reluctantly, I walked Y/n to her car, the weight of impending separation casting a shadow over our otherwise uplifting interaction.

"Here's my number. Text me about the date plan; I'm looking forward to it," Y/n said, her smile radiant with anticipation, as she handed me a slip of paper bearing her contact information.

My bashfulness emerged, rendering me momentarily speechless. "I'm excited too. I'll be sure to text you. Just get home safe, alright?" I replied softly, hoping to mask the fluttering nerves within me.

Y/n's smile widened, and in that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Her gentle kiss on my cheek felt like a jolt of electricity, sending my heart into a frenzy. For an instant, I felt as though I might lose my footing, caught in the unexpected rush of emotions.

"Good night, Minjeong," she whispered, her words carrying a softness that reverberated through me.

I stood there, watching her car depart, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. Placing a hand over my heart, I attempted to steady the rapid beating within my chest, the lingering sensation of her kiss lingering like an echo.

Before I could collect my thoughts, Karina came bounding towards me, brimming with excitement. "Oh my gosh, I saw everything! Minjeong is head over heels, everyone!" she exclaimed with uncontainable enthusiasm.

I stood there, Karina's excited proclamation ringing in my ears, a mix of bewilderment and anticipation coursing through me. Her words echoed a truth I had vehemently denied for so long—love had never held a place in my beliefs.

But as I stood there, my hand unconsciously lingering on the spot where Y/n's kiss had landed, a revelation dawned upon me. I had once deemed love a frivolous notion, dismissing it as a mere illusion. Yet, in this whirlwind encounter, I found myself yearning for something I never thought I'd desire.

The Winter Ball had unveiled a world of possibilities I had stubbornly ignored, and in the lingering warmth of Y/n's presence, my heart had stirred with unfamiliar emotions. What had begun as skepticism had morphed into an eager anticipation for what lay ahead—a date that held the promise of something genuine and heartfelt.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I found myself eagerly awaiting the prospect of love—a concept I once rejected but now, with each flutter of my heart, embraced with open arms.

Years cascaded by in a beautiful tapestry woven with shared moments, laughter, and a love that surpassed every doubt. Y/n and I stood side by side, a testament to the transformative power of love, as we returned to the Winter Ball each year.

My father's beaming smile was a reflection of his joy as he witnessed the love that had bloomed between Y/n and me. The Winter Ball, once a place of skepticism and uncertainty for me, now held a cherished significance—a testament to our enduring bond and the promise of a love that had weathered the test of time.

With each passing holiday season, Y/n and I found ourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. The Winter Ball had become more than just an extravagant event; it was a celebration of our love story—a reminder of the serendipity that had brought us together and the countless memories we continued to create.

The twinkling lights, the elegant dances, and the festive atmosphere held a deeper meaning now—a symbol of our shared journey, a testament to the enduring love that had blossomed amidst the enchantment of that first Winter Ball.

As we danced under the glittering lights, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and the whispers of timeless promises, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the unexpected turns that had led me to find the love of my life.

Every holiday season was now a cherished opportunity—a chance to revel in the love that had transformed my beliefs, turning skepticism into an unwavering certainty that love, indeed, was the most powerful magic of all.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

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