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wrestlingwithlife · 11 months

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Texas Style

Most people quiver at the thought of having to face Ghost, let alone in hand to hand combat, but Ghost is about to have a sparring partner like he’s never had before. With a little Texas flare thrown in, of course.

Task Force 141 x Male!Reader

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Y/n fished around in his dresser, searching for sturdier tank top than the one he’d had on. The last thing he wanted was to rip another, especially after what had happened last hand to hand combat day. The h/c haired male didn’t even bother to look up when he heard his door swing, already having a strong idea about who it was.

“Howdy, Partner.” Soap laughed as he plopped onto Y/n’s bed. The s/t male only rolled his eyes at Soap’s humor.

“Hello, Soap.”

Y/n gave up on his search for a thicker tank top, shutting the drawer and turning back to face Soap. Y/n had learned his lesson on ignoring the Scott for to long.

A coy smile danced across the mohawked man’s face. “You sound like your not simply ecstatic to see me.” He teased, eyes blazing with mischief as he scanned them over his team mate.

“Hmm, how rude of me.” Y/n spoke flatly, but he couldn’t fight the smallest up turn of his lips. “Let’s go, don’t want Price on us for being late.”

Y/n leads the way out of his room, when they step out Gaz is there, waiting for them. “Would you look at us, we done got a reunion going.” Y/n drawled, shutting his door behind them. The three made their way across the base, turning a few heads as they did.

Now, Y/n was gorgeous. Everyone knew that. Well, everyone except Y/n himself but the poor guy didn’t have a mind for much more than his teammates, so who could really blame him.

But Y/n wasn’t just that pretty guy who went to your high school with you. No, he was the kind of pretty that was untouchable. Like a celebrity, or some guy at the airport that you’ll probably never see again.

The 141 squad understood this, and they reveled in the fact that Y/n was their’s. Well, mostly Soap and Gaz, but who’s really paying attention to that? However, as much as they loved to flaunt Y/n, there were times when even they’d get protective.

So when Soap slung his arm over Y/n’s shoulder and tugged him in closer the h/c haired male didn’t bat an eye. Not even when Gaz’s arm slipped around his waist. This was just his daily life, and he’d grown used to it.

In fact, when the looming figure seemingly appeared out of nowhere behind them he was the only one of the trio not to jump out of his skin. Y/n offered Ghost a smile, nodding in greeting to the silent male.

“So, Cowboy, you nervous?” Soap slung his arm over Y/n’s shoulder again, taking back his place pressed up to the male.

The h/c male blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “Nervous? What for?”

Soap had to bite his cheek to hide how adorable the head tilt looked from his point of view. “Well you and Ghosty are the only ones with undefeated records in hand to hand, means you two will be fighting today.”

Y/n shrugged, reaching for the knob of the training room door. “Ain’t nothing. I wrestled steers twice as big as Simon, and four times as mean.” The male shot Ghost a playful and teasing look, and Ghost was lucky he wore a mask or his pink cheeks would have been on full display.

When the group stepped into the training room heads turned. I mean, of course they did. This was THE 141 Task Force. Who wouldn’t look?

Price looked up from the trainer he was talking to to, a grin on his lips as he motioned the group over.

“Ghost, Cowboy, go get stretched. You’re up in five.”

Ghost’s eyes cut over to Y/n, but the smaller male was already looking at him. His e/c eyes are blazing with something that Simon could only describe as wild adrenaline. Cowboy grins, giving Ghost a wink before going off to stretch, Soap trailing after him like a little lost dog.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Soap’s hands worked into the muscles of Y/n shoulders as the male wrapped his hands. He didn’t plan on throwing many punches, but better safe than sorry.

“Really pampering me ain’t ya? Feel like one of my Pa’s show calves right about now.” Y/n chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Soap once he was done with his hands.

“Now I know how Ghost feels when I talk.” Johnny huffed, moving down to Y/n’s shoulder blades. “Well somebody has to pamper you, you’re about to face the grim reaper after all.”

Now, one could argue that Soap was only massaging the muscles on Y/n shoulders to give himself the opportunity to feel him up a little. However, those people would be hypocrites, because every person in the room was shooting Soap a jealous look.

And Y/n wasn’t complaining, so it was a win-win.

“Cowboy! Ghost! You’re up!”

Y/n pulled away from Soap’s hold, jumping a bit in surprise when he felt a hard slap on his ass. “Give him hell, Cowboy!” Soap cheered.

Y/n just shook his head, making his way to the ring. Ghost stood before him, a looming presence of muscles and angst. Y/n couldn’t help but shudder in excitement.

“Good luck.” The e/c eyed male smirked, taking up a ready stance. Ghost didn’t say anything, he only nodded, watching Y/n with careful eyes.

“Alright, you two know the rules. First one on their back for a three count or I call it.” The trainer spoke. “On my call… begin!”

Ghost was the first to make a move, throwing a right hook at the shorter male. Y/n managed to just barely duck under it, slipping past him with ease.

Cowboy hooks an arm around Ghost’s waist using his momentum to carry him to the skull masked male’s other side, catching him off guard.

Y/n’s arm slips up Ghost’s back, trapping his head and left arm in a tight grip. However, Ghost refused to go down easy. He did his best to break the hold, slinging Y/n around wildly, but his grip remained unbroken.

Gaz watched in amazement as Y/n clung to Ghost, his e/c eyes wild with delight and his face sporting an equally wild grin.

When Y/n’s feet finally hit the ground he saw his opportunity. The male dropped his hips, twisting his body and threw his weight around, flipping Ghost over his shoulder.

Ghost’s back hit the ground with a thundering noise, knocking the breath from his lungs. Cowboy was quick to straddle the man’s waist, pinning his arms above his head.

They sat there for a moment, Ghost breathing heavily and Y/n grinning down at him, before the trainer blew his whistle. The match was over, Cowboy had won, and Ghost had learned something about himself that day.

There were claps and whoops, and when the two stepped off the mat Soap practically tackled the poor country boy to the floor.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second!” He beamed, arm wrapped tightly around Y/n’s slim waist.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n towel dried his hair as he stepped out from the shower, pulling on a loose pair of joggers. He was lounging in his room for the rest of the day, so he saw no need to bother with a shirt.

He opened his bathroom door and stepped out into his room only to see Ghost sat in one of his bean bag chairs reading a book while Soap and Gaz sat at the foot of his bed, engrossed in some true crime show.

“Hello people who do not live here.” Y/n huffed, three sets of eyes darted over to look at him. Ghost had the luxury of having a mask to cover his cheeks, the other two were less fortunate. Luckily for Gaz, Soap was there to take the attention from him.

“My oh my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Soap whistled flirtatiously, wiggling his eye brows. Y/n rolled his eyes, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and smacking the Scott with it.

Y/n plopped down onto his bed leaning against his pillows. Gaz and Soap shifted a bit, resting their heads on the southern males thick thighs, going back to being absorbed into their show.

The bed dipped a bit and Ghost sat down, laying back so his head was resting against Y/n’s chest. He didn’t make eyes contact with the male, eyes still focused on the book in his hand.

Y/n smiled softly, letting his hand rest on top of Ghost’s head. His eyes cut back over to the show that was playing on the screen, and he had to admit, this was pretty nice.

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Hope this was okay! If you guys like the cowboy!reader I’d love to do more. It’s hard to find any love for cowboy readers out there lol

- Author~Chan out ✌️

#cod mwf2 #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod x male reader #cod x cowboy!reader #cowboy!reader #male!reader #codxmale!reader #ghost #simon riley #soap mctavish #task force 141 #cod gaz

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verydeadaten · 1 month

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Schedules

Based on this post.

Pyrrha: *with Yang* J-Jaune.

Jaune: *looking up from notebook* Pyr?

Pyrrha: *sweating* W-W-Would you be i-interested, I mean, um, me a-and Yang, um, w-we want...we want-WE-

Yang: Hey. *holds Pyrrha's hand* Don't worry P-Money, I got this. *kisses her cheek*

Yang: Loverboy! You know how me and Pyrrha have been dating for a few weeks, right?

Jaune: Yes, and I'm very happy it's been going well for the both of you!

Yang: Thank you. And you, Pyrrha, and me have been hanging with each other more than often, so we're good friends, right?

Jaune: I mean, you do invite me to third-wheel on your dates. I think we're a bit more than "good" friends, no?

Pyrrha: *red*

Yang: You cute little flirt, you.

Jaune: What?

Yang: Me and Pyrrha where thinking. Coul-

Pyrrha: COULD YOU DATE US?!?!

Jaune: HUH?

Yang: Whoa! Way to put it all out, babe! I'm proud of you.

Jaune: *blushing* C-Could you repeat that.

Pyrrha: Yang and me both decided we wanted you to join our, uh, relationship. We both lo...l-lov...we both really like you. You're smart and kind and handsome and determined andireallywanttokissyouonthemouthand-

Yang: Yeah, what she said. You're a real catch, Loverboy. And we want to reel you in. So...what do you say?

Jaune: Wow...really? I...I would love to be a part of you relationship.

Yang: YES!

Pyrrha: *nearly faints out of sheer happiness*

Jaune: But I can't.

Yang: What.

Pyrrha: *glass break sfx*

Pyrrha: Wha-Why not?!

Jaune: I'm too busy!

Yang: ...what.

Jaune: I can't date the two of you. I don't have the time.

Yang: Is this some kind of joke, Vomit-Boy? Because if it is, you need to get better material.

Jaune: It's not a joke! See? *pulls out piece of paper*

Pyrrha: What is this?

Jaune: My schedule.

Yang: Combat class...leadership class...cook for team? Frag time? The hell is that?

Pyrrha: Oh, that must be when he plays that shooty game he plays. Team...something 2?

Yang: What the? Training with Pyrrha? BABE! You've had alone time with him and you didn't invite me?

Pyrrha: I'm sorry!

Jaune: See? I'm really sorry girls. I'd love to date you, but my schedule's packed.

Yang: *seething with rage*

Pyrrha: no...NO! I WON'T ACCEPT THIS! JAUNE ARC! YOU WILL MAKE TIME FOR US BOTH!

Yang: Yeah!

Pyrrha: YOU WILL GO ON DATES WITH US!

Yang: YEAH!

Pyrrha: YOU WILL GIVE US GIFTS!

Yang: YEAH!

Pyrrha: AND YOU WILL MAKE LOVE TO US GENTLY ON A HOT SUMMER'S NIGHT!!!

Yang: YEA-wait what?

Jaune: But...but...I don't have the time!

Yang: Jaune, just do your work later in the day.

Jaune: But my sleep.

Pyrrha: Beloved, you wake up at the crack of dawn. You'll be fine.

Yang: And if it really is such an issue, just do your work with us. We mostly have the same homework, anyways.

Jaune: I...I never even thought of that.

Pyrrha: *sighs* You're such a silly, silly man.

Yang: Hey, he's our silly, silly man.

Jaune: Yeah! I mean, we are a thing now, right?

Yang: Damn straight! Now, get on your bed.

Jaune: Huh?

Yang: You see, Loverboy, you got me and P-Money over here really stressed out with your, "schedule shenanigans," and we need to cool off.

Pyrrha: *nodding head*

Yang: When we're stressed, we usually cuddle each other. But why do that when we have this big, blonde, hunky teddy bear in front of us? You feel me?

Jaune: *blushing* Y-Yeah. I, uh, I feel you.

Yang: Oh you'll be feeling us alright.

Jaune: *very red*

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #yang xiao long #greek fire #arkos #dragonslayer #armored dragon

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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 8 months

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Cold Nights to Sunday Mornings - bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

Summary: 2.1k words. loosely inspired by "Hold My Girl" by George Ezra. (idk what to put for the summary but! pls trust that it's worth your time bc i'm proud of this :) )

Warnings: lots of angst & fluff to redeem the angst

a/n: the fall semester just started & i've been really busy so i'm just as shocked as you are that i'm actually posting a fic. enjoy & please let me know what you think <3

master list | join my tag list

“Baby, we have to get up,” she pleaded. Bradley ignored her request and wrapped his arms around her midsection tighter.

A soft displeased hum left her lips—though it was mostly in jest. She could never be anything but content in Bradley’s arms. The sound only had the aviator nuzzling his head further against her neck, peppering light kisses across the exposed skin.

---

Before y/n, Bradley never slept in. Rooster was his call sign for a reason. For better or for worse, he had a habit of being up before the sun and the rest of the sane world.

Sleeping in meant that he was only prolonging the amount of time he spent in bed alone. The barrack beds were uncomfortable and cold. When he’d been promoted and was able to arrange for housing off-base he ran into the same issue. A thousand dollars and a new mattress later, the comfort issue was fixed. He might as well have been sleeping on a damn cloud. But his bed was still cold. And lonely.

Without an alarm clock he rose every morning no later than 5:30 a.m.. Maybe it was because of all his years in the military. Maybe it was the broken teenager inside of him that was always running—from his past, to his future, to find someplace somewhere that he could rest easy—and damn, was that exhausting. Everyone he loved and counted on died suddenly, or abandoned him, or died slowly.

As he got older, he found a little bit of peace. Bradley worked his ass off and earned his successful career. He reconnected with his estranged Godfather. He was reassigned to the same base he spent most of his early childhood at.

He slept better after that. In his mid-thirties, it was about damn time that he was able to relax a bit. Yet still, no amount of blankets warmed up the everpresent unwelcome chill.

---

One morning he had a particularly unpleasant wake-up. At just after 4 in the morning, Bradley woke up drenched in sweat. The nightmares weren’t frequent, but they weren’t uncommon. It came with the territory of being directly involved in combat. He couldn’t go back to sleep–he never could–so he got up. He cleaned his entire house. He watched a movie that he wasn’t paying attention to. He went for a run. He didn’t bother counting the miles, he just ran until he felt better; even though he never really did. When he was done showering, it was finally a socially acceptable hour to call someone.

Bradley’s thumb hovered over Pete’s phone number. Before he could talk himself out of it, he pressed harder than necessary on the screen and winced as the phone rang. After 3 rings Bradley’s tense shoulders deflated. Just before the call went to voicemail, it was picked up with haste. Shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line.

“Hi sweetie!” That’s not Maverick.

“Hey Penny…” he trailed off awkwardly. He was hardly prepared to have a conversation with his godfather, much less his godfather’s girlfriend.

“Mav is out in the hangar right now working on his plane,” Penny explained with a sarcastic air of ‘what else is new?’. There was more shuffling as Penny moved to hold the phone between her shoulder and ear. She had a splatter or two of pancake batter on her manicured hands. Pete would just have to suck it up when he saw the evidence on his phone later.

“I’m making breakfast right now, would you like to come over? I’ll make up a plate for you, hun,” Penny offered sweetly. She was so caught up in putting together her Sunday breakfast feast that she hardly realized she never asked Bradley why he called.

The younger man paused for a moment. He didn’t want to impose, but he really didn’t want to be alone right now.

Pete met Bradley at the front door with a fond smile. Bradley tried his best to return the smile but he wasn’t successful. His lips just looked like they were twisted in pain and there wasn’t much light in his eyes. Maverick’s brow furrowed. He wouldn’t push until the kid was ready to open up, and he had a feeling that wouldn’t be until after he had a plate full of Penny’s famous pancakes.

Amelia all but inhaled her breakfast before she twirled around the house like a mini tornado, grabbing her bag and keys and shouting ‘ThanksforbreakfastI’mgoingtothebeachwithsomefriendsloveyoubye!’ as the door slammed shut behind her. Maverick’s eyebrows raised and Penny just shook her head with a smile.

The older woman subtly watched Bradley clear his plate. She waited until he swallowed his last bite of food and washed it down with orange juice before she rested her soft hand over his white knuckle clenched fist on the table.

“What’s going on, Bradley?” she asked gently. She was careful–like he was a scared animal that might bolt in an instant. Pete leaned in, making sure he was within his godson’s line of sight too. Bradley couldn’t meet either of their eyes. He cleared his throat and was quiet for a moment.

He told them about the nightmare. About the cold sweat, and the cold sheets, and the cold bed, and the cold empty house. Mav’s heart broke. He was trying his best to do right by Goose; he’d just barely managed to repair his relationship with his godson, but he supposed there was only so much he could protect the younger aviator from.

Pete reached across to rest an arm on Bradley’s shoulder. He tensed then relaxed, but didn’t shake off Mav’s hand. Maybe that was a good sign. Penny’s gaze was sympathetic. Bradley rarely opened up to anyone, but he knew Penny was the person to go to when pity would make him nauseous.

“It might be helpful to get some company,” the older, wiser woman suggested and squeezed Bradley’s hand. His fist unclenched a bit. Pete had been mostly silent up until this point. He wasn’t good with emotions, that much was obvious to anyone who’d spent more than half an hour outside of work with the man.

“Company other than one night stands and the stray cats you swear you don’t feed,” Pete remarked. Rooster chuckled. It was the first genuinely positive reaction they’d seen from him this morning. The cats are lovely company, thank you very much, Bradley thought.

---

Bradley tried to get his shit together. He was mostly successful. He officially took in one of the stray cats. He brought him to the vet and made sure his vaccines were up to date and got the poor cat neutered. A cat tree tower took residence next to the backdoor Bradley left cat food out by.

He even tried his hand at gardening. He started a small vegetable garden and did a bit of landscaping. Two months ago he didn’t know which perennials were best suited for California weather, much less how to take care of them. Now he’d installed a carefully timed automatic sprinkler system and even built a tarp over part of the earthy plot to prevent too much sun exposure for some of the more delicate plants.

You have to love yourself before you can love someone else.

Bradley was convinced that phrase was absolute bullshit. Plenty of people were in happy relationships and still went through bouts of being miserable with themselves. Penny tsked Bradley’s pessimism at her bar top. She’d unofficially taken on the role of being his intermittent therapist.

“Bull shit or not, you need to work out some of your own issues before you start dating around,” she said pointedly. She was being pulled in the opposite direction by another bartender that needed her help when she shouted back to Bradley, “Don’t you dare download Tinder, mister!” The exclamation was far too loud for Bradley’s taste, especially when several heads suddenly whipped around to focus on him.

So work out his issues he did.

He stopped throwing himself into work and ruthless workouts simply for the sake of avoiding his thoughts and being alone. He tried out sitting in silence with his thoughts in his lonely house. He hated it. But he got better at it over time. Goose the cat climbing across his lap and snuggling against his thigh made things better.

Companionship. Mav and Penny were right. He needed someone outside of work. Someone whose life didn’t center around the Navy or planes or beer.

---

y/n wasn’t who he ever imagined ending up with. She didn’t particularly care for the U.S. military-industrial complex. She wasn’t a beer girl and she wasn’t very good at driving. She was afraid of heights so she preferred not to fly when she traveled. Whenever she could drive instead of take a flight, she would—even though she’s admittedly a bad driver.

y/n loved Bradley’s cat. She was a cat and a dog person. She was also a bearded dragon person—something that Bradley did not expect to learn about anyone over the age of 20. Her eyes were filled with wonder when she first laid eyes on his thriving vegetable garden.

y/n was very outdoorsy. She loved nature and the beach, she dragged Bradley out of his cold house more times than he could count. The more time y/n spent at his house, the less cold it felt. She brought Bradley on hikes—he had no idea how many trails and reserves were within driving distance. Bradley always drove.

Their green thumbs linked well together. y/n introduced several cat-safe plants to the interior of Bradley’s home. Every once in a blue moon, the couple would spend time at y/n’s apartment. Her roommate was even less of a fan of the military-industrial complex and it showed. One morning Bradley woke up before y/n so he headed to her kitchen to make them breakfast. Her roommate, Allie, woke up early as well. A not-so-casual conversation ensued (read: scrutinizing questions) about Bradley being ‘“Property of Uncle Sam” over the sound of scrambled eggs sizzling. After that, Bradley suggested they spend more time at his house. It was roomier, he reasoned. y/n snorted. “You just don’t want Allie talking at you at the butt crack of dawn,” y/n corrected. Bradley nodded with tight lips.

Mav and Penny enthusiastically offered to help move y/n into Bradley’s home after the spunky y/h/c accepted his offer with a massive grin and a PG-13 kiss.

Now that Bradley woke up with y/n in his arms every morning, he wasn’t really eager to hop out of bed anymore. He was pretty sure the last time he habitually woke up later than 9 in the morning on weekends was when he was in high school.

---

y/n huffed and leaned back into Bradley’s warm embrace. The man was practically a space heater in bed, but he was her space heater.

She twisted around in his arms with a grin so that they were chest to chest. Bradley’s legs tensed when y/n’s cold feet assaulted his skin.

“We need to go feed Goose,” y/n reasoned, even though she knew full well that Bradley couldn’t be reasoned with when he was comfortable in bed. Comfortable and bed were two words that weren’t associated with each other for quite a long time for Bradley.

“He can starve for a bit,” he mumbled without opening his eyes. y/n gasped and swatted his arm. The corner of his lip twitched into a grin as he leaned forward to blindly press a kiss to y/n’s face.

“You have morning breath, Brad,” she wrinkled her nose. He squinted one eye open and stuck his tongue out at y/n. She rolled her eyes but she too snuggled further into his warm embrace. 20 minutes or so passed by. y/n was falling in and out of almost asleep, and she was ready to get the day going.

She squirmed in Bradley’s arms again.

“Bradleyyy,” she groaned, feeling antsy. The aviator shook his head with a smile. For the first time all morning, he cracked his eyes open. The light streaming through the window highlighted the flecks of gold in his beautiful big brown eyes and y/n forgot what she was going to say.

“Shhh, five more minutes” he hushed softly and pressed a kiss to y/n’s nose, a content smile on his face.

“Give me a minute to hold my girl.”

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#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine

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coryosmin · 3 months

Text

Sickly Confessions - Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

summary: reader has a cold and now it’s coryo’s turn to take care of her. could be a second part to feel better but also can be its own fic. this is self indulgent mostly because i’m sick rn.

warnings: fluff, soft!coryo, ooc coryo because truthfully he wouldn’t be this soft, this really is just self indulgent, 1,200 words of rushed fluff

When Coriolanus saw you enter the Academy building looking like you’d been hit by a bus, he knew you were sick. Your eyes had bags underneath them, you looked exhausted and sniffling. Coriolanus walked up to you, greeting you as he always did. “Hey,” he greeted, taking your arm in his. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking at your form as you guys began to walk together.

You looked up at him, shaking your head no. “I don’t feel good,” you murmured. Your voice was hoarse, causing Coriolanus to frown. You had a sore throat. He stopped in his tracks, causing you to stop as well.

He brought his hand up to your forehead. “You’re burning up,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here today.”

You leaned into his touch, the feeling of his cold hand feeling so good on your forehead. “Got an exam today,” you replied, frowning. Coriolanus understood. He was much the same way, wanting to at least get through the day so he didn’t miss his assignments and such.

“For Professor Satyria,” he murmured, keeping his hand on your forehead for a moment before pulling away. “After her class though, you need to go home and rest.” You simply nodded your head, beginning to walk to your first class. Professor Satyria’s class isn’t until right before lunchtime. So you still had at least half a day until you could go home. You and Coryo continued walking to your first class.

You could hardly focus in class and it concerned Coriolanus quite a bit. You looked like you could fall asleep at any given moment and by the time it was exam time, your cheeks were so flushed that Coriolanus figured you likely had a high temperature. Once the exam ended, you all walked out of the class and you could barely stand straight. Coriolanus was right beside you, a hand on your waist. “Let’s get you home,” he murmured into your ear.

Coriolanus Snow never missed a class. He always goes to school, even when sick. So the fact that he left early was huge. And you realized, even in that sick little foggy brain of yours, that Coriolanus must truly care for you a whole bunch if he was willingly bringing you home in the middle of the school day. “You don’t have to bring me home,” You murmured, leaning into Coriolanus. “You vowed to yourself to never miss a class.”

Coriolanus shook his head. “Maybe so,” He replied, already guiding you out of the building. “But you’re my best friend and you would do the same for me too.”

And you couldn’t ignore that logic. Because you would take care of him in a heartbeat. He’s been your best friend since the two of you were young children. “Okay,” You agreed, unable to find a reason to combat him. You were just so tired and needed to rest. You wanted nothing more than to lay down and fall to sleep.

When you and Coryo arrived at your apartment, you realized neither of your parents were home. Your father was on some work trip and your mother was out visiting her parents for the day. So you had the apartment to yourself other than the Avoxes. “Go get changed,” Coriolanus said, taking his shoes off at the door. “I’ll see about getting you something to drink.”

Coriolanus walked off towards the kitchen while you made your way to your bedroom, getting changed into a pair of pajamas and then getting into bed. You sat underneath the covers with your back against your headboard. A few minutes later, there was a light knock on the door. “Come in,” you raised your voice, causing it to crack.

Coriolanus opened the door with a small tray in his hands. There was a glass of water, some medication, and a sandwich. “I told one of your Avoxes that you were sick. So they prepared this tray for you.” He spoke, putting the tray on your lap. “You should eat. You need the nutrients to get better, dove.”

Dove. That certainly was new. You nodded your head, looking up at Coriolanus. “Will you be staying with me?” You asked.

Coriolanus gave you a small smile, reaching to move a piece of your hair out of your face. “Of course,” he murmured, taking a seat on the bed. “I’ll stay for however long you need me to.”

After you had eaten and taken the medication, you felt ready to fall asleep. Coriolanus took the tray off of your lap, placing it on the floor temporarily. “Get some rest,” he said, his blue eyes looking at you.

You bit your lip as you looked at Coryo with droopy eyes. “Would it be too much to ask you to cuddle me?” You asked shyly, looking at your best friend.

Coriolanus’s heart melted as he looked at you, unable to help the smile on his face when you asked him. He’s usually much more composed but you’re sick and vulnerable anyways. It doesn’t matter if he smiles. “Of course, dove.” Coriolanus moved to lay down next to you, taking you into his arms. You were very warm and he knew that he had the possibility of getting sick too. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was his best friend being comfortable and getting better. And if he could provide comfort to her, then he shall.

Coriolanus wrapped his arms around you, bringing your head to his chest. You breathed in his scent as it provided you with comfort. His body was naturally cool which allowed you to get a reprieve from the heat of your fever. You snuggled into him. And in your sick dazed mind, you spoke, “I love you, Coryo,” not caring about the nervousness or the repercussions of your words when you eventually become clear minded.

Coriolanus’s heart fluttered in his chest as he looked at you, trying to comprehend the words you spoke. “Love me how?” he asked carefully.

“Like in love with you,” you replied.

Coriolanus shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re sick.”

You pulled away slightly to look up at Coryo, still staying in his arms. “Sick or not, I love you, Coryo.” You said honestly, looking at your best friend.

Coriolanus took a deep breath, unsure of how to respond. Until he does. Because ultimately, he will always love you as well. “I love you too, dove,” He said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now get some sleep. We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

And so you fell asleep a few minutes later, comforted by the feeling of Coriolanus’s arms wrapped around you and the fact that your best friend loves you too.

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #thg #thg tbosas #tbosas #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x you #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut

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willowworkswithwords · 3 months

Text

Steve receives love the way he gives it and doesn’t know what to do with himself.

so i was going through my drafts folder because i'm thinking it's time to dip my foot back into the fic writing pool, and I found this collection of snippets and ideas that all stemmed from this post from @rogueddie. I thought about maybe elaborating on some of these, but I also wanted to share because I really enjoyed this idea. I also think I may have posted about this a long while back, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the whole thing.

-Future -> uses a pen like a sorta-stylus to hit each of his computer keys sometimes. Eddie figures out it’s because the keys don’t have enough physical separation between them (they’re so shallow) and it sometimes messes with his eyes [is this a feasible vision issue he might have??] so Eddie buys him an “old fashioned” keyboard with the big keys, one of the big colorful trendy ones.

-Eddie and Wayne keep the foods he like, foods he’ll always eat no matter what. Eddie notices that he’ll never ask for any special foods when Wayne makes the grocery list (when he moves in with them) so he starts being sneaky and goes on a recon mission a.k.a. asking Robin, Nancy, and the kids what he likes. Since Steve also loves to cook, Eddie looks through his cookbooks and recipe box and finds the ones with notes on them and him and Wayne practice how to make them

“Hey Wayne?”

“Yeah?” Wayne calls from the couch, beer in hand and the game on.

Steve steps out from the kitchen, box of tea in hand.

“Where’d this come from?”

Wayne doesn’t turn around.

“What is it?”

“Uh, the tea?”

“Picked that up for you the other day, since you were saying you like it better than coffee sometimes.”

“Yeah but… you and Eddie don’t like tea?”

He doesn’t know why he says it like a question.

Wayne tilts his head against the back of the couch, craning it to look at Steve in a way that’s so reminiscent of Eddie it makes Steve smile a little.

“You do, though.”

-Right before Steve moves in, when he’s an anxious mess because his parents are coming back but he doesn’t realize he’s anxious for that reason, he starts hiding little bits of his stuff in the trailer, mostly in Eddie’s room and around the kitchen. This puzzles Eddie but Wayne thinks it’s like Steve’s trying to expel his energy in a not-so-productive way, though there are worse ways. So, Wayne starts asking Steve to help more around the house, but especially with repairs bc they found out that Steve knew a lot about repair.

Steve’s been around a lot. Wayne sees his pile of folded bedding tucked behind the couch, and sometimes he sees the Beemer leaving the trailer park as he comes up the road from the plant. During daylight hours, when Steve comes by to help Eddie or brings the kids over or stays for dinner, he shows almost no signs of anything being wrong.

But Wayne is a combat veteran. It’s been a long time for him, but he hasn’t forgotten, and he never will. He knows his nephew went through war, and that Steve was right alongside him. From what Wayne has gathered, Steve had been in that war for a few years, and had been dealing with the ups-and-downs for two years before Eddie ever knew about it.

It hurts Wayne deeply, to see the children (because that’s what they are—as he and all his comrades had been) endure the aftermath. So he sees when Steve flinches, when he clenches his fists, when he holds his breath and makes himself breathe evenly.

Tonight is the least in-control he’s ever seen Steve.

He’s over for dinner again. All three of them are in the living room, a baseball game on, much to Eddie’s long-suffering sighs.

-Steve will make his opinion known about arbitrary stuff like movies and music, but if it’s been a Bad Day or a Bad Time, and he does, and Eddie reacts to it in a way Steve sees as criticism, he will then defer everything to Eddie to a frustrating degree. Eddie finds out that when it comes to their relationship, not any other relationship Steve has, Steve is extremely afraid of screwing it up so he thinks that means he should let Eddie call all the shots.

-Eddie memorizes Steve’s orders at restaurants

-Eddie sews Steve’s clothes without Steve ever realizing

The sun is just peaking through the windows of the trailer on a Thursday morning when Eddie gets to work. Steve, when exhausted, will sleep through just about anything, and the week had been a long one. Eddie had the opposite problem, finding little respite even curled around Steve. So, the early morning found him gathering up Steve’s clothes and taking them out to the front porch of the trailer.

Already out there on the side table was his sewing kit, spools of thread and thimbles neat and ready. Already out there on the couch was Wayne, sipping his morning post-work coffee and looking out over the misty park.

Without a word, Eddie settled onto his end of the couch, knees pulled up, and grabbed one of Steve’s jeans. There was a rip along the inseam, and Eddie took to it with steady persistence. After the jeans were shirts and three sweatshirts. Stitch after stitch after stitch, and soon Steve wasn’t left with a single hole in all his wardrobe.

“He still hasn’t figured it out yet?” Wayne asks, grinning into his coffee.

“Nope. I’ve almost convinced him of the existence of brownies.”

Wayne barks a laugh and Eddie smiles down at the last rip he’s fixing, laughing with his uncle. Steve has been with them for a month and is just now finally easing up, finally letting them both in—for the big and small. Noticing Steve get frustrated with all the holes in his clothes was the least Eddie could do for him, and if it warms him from the inside out when Steve excitedly rustles through his pile of clothes and realizes they’re all perfectly wearable, well. That was just a plus.

-Eddie compliments Steve on his personality and who he is more than what he does, because especially in the first couple years after Vecna, while both of their bodies are still healing, Steve feels a lot of guilt about not being able to do all the things he used to be able to do to the same degree. Even once he’s healed and starts being able to be physical like he used to, Eddie knows Steve equates his value with his service, and tries to help him realize that he is so much more.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #wayne munson is a good uncle #wayne munson cares very much about eddie and about steve #wayne munson is an excellent ally #and excellent uncle #eddie loves steve so much #and he tries so hard to help steve see that #acts of service #speaking in your partner's love language #speaking other people's love languages as the secret sixth love language #willow writes #my fic #willow talks

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timeoutsoup · 1 year

Text

Dig You A Grave Part 2

(Again thank you for @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 for the prompt. Also shout out to @spoopyspoony for the hilarious tag)

Klarion had succeeded in his mission of obtaining the tome for The Light, but at a heavy cost to himself.

Teekl had emerged from the Mayor’s Mansion having successfully gotten the book, only to be seen by the junior justice babies. They divided their attacks between him and his beloved familiar. In the end he was able to grab the book as he a Teekl were separated by a blast. Deciding to lead the heroes away and return for his beloved feline, Klarion took to the sky. Once he knew it was safe to return, the witch boy began his search for Teekl.

It had been three days and Klarion had not found her yet. Anger and worry clouded his vision, as he continued his search.

The powerful witch boy was getting sick of the light. All they cared about was their stupid plan. They kept the Lord of Chaos on a short leash, gave him rules to follow, and had him run errands, like some servant. And to top it all off none of them had cared the Teekl was missing. Savage had the audacity to tell him to just find a new one, as if that man had any power over him. He decided to find Teekl and then make his decision about the light.

The Day Before

Danny was excited about fostering the cat he found. She was so sweet, and really well trained. He didn’t even know cats could be trained. His parents had let him foster the cat, when he explained how he had stumbled upon her after the ghost fight. Also mentioning how the feline had orange fur, and it reminded him of Jazz, didn’t hurt either.

Sam and Tucker had joined him when he went to the pet store to pick up items for his new house guest.

“What if she doesn’t like anything?” Danny worried.

“Simple we will donate what we can to shelters and local rescues and come back and get different items.” Sam replied as she grabbed a bag of Churu’s off the wall.

“More importantly, since when do you buy meat products?” Tucker asked, raising a brow at Sam.

“While cats are omnivores, they eat mostly meat. Just because I am a vegan doesn’t mean I’m going to make a poor animal suffer and deny it proper nutrition.” Sam replied, giving Tucker a look.

“Huh, I didn’t know that. Maybe I should pick up a book or two on cats while we are here.” Danny said, pushing the cart down the aisle.

If Sam decided her parents should foot the bill after they had tried to replace her favorite combat boots with pastel pink kitten heels, who were the boys to complain about the Manson’s generous donation for this poor, injured kitty. They got everything, wet food, dry food, bowls for food and water, a water fountain bowl, treats in all shapes and sizes, a wool cat cave bed, a cat tree, toy and more.

Once Teekl (she had a collar with her name on the tag) had been released from the vet, which the Manson’s also paid for, Danny took her straight home, hopeful she liked it. He read the book they got and followed the vet’s advice to start by introducing her in a small safe area. The upstairs bathroom was perfect because only he really used it now that Jazz was off at college. Not everything they bought would fit into the bathroom, so Danny made the decision to put the necessities and a few extras. No matter how funny Tock found it he was not putting the cat tree in there. Carpet in the bathroom is disgusting. Just the simple ceramic food and matching water dish, the new litter box, and the shirt he was wearing when he rescued her, on top of an old pillow that smelled like Danny.

Opening the carrier, Danny watched as Teekl walked out, examining her new surroundings. She gave a courteous sniff to the food, took a few laps of water, and then plopped herself down onto her makeshift bed. Confused but happy that she felt comfortable, Danny continued to watch, making sure she was comfortable.

After a few minutes Danny left her to her own to finish settling in, making sure to close the door. Returning to his room to finish setting all the cat supplies up. Placing a bed between his dresser and the wall so she could hide in comfort. The cat tree between his bed and the window, so she can sun herself, as well as use it like steps to get on his bed. The water fountain off to the side, on a rubber mat, and her food bowl near by but not too close. And a basket, holding a variety of toys slide nicely under his bed.

Checking his watch, the young halfa decided to check on his furry little house guest again. Standing up, and turning around, the ghost boy is shocked. There sitting in his doorway, cleaning their paw without a care in the world, is Teekl.

“Well, I guess you’ve adjusted to being here then.” Danny muttered, leaning down to pick up the orange tabby. Surprised that she not only let him pick her up, but began to purr, he turned around and began to how her his room.

By the end of the day Teekl was sunning herself in the last rays of sunlight as Danny finished up his homework for school tomorrow. It was a nice relaxing moment in his hectic life. He began dissociating and didn’t notice the cat in his lap until she began to headbutt his chin. Blinking back to the present Danny looked down and smiled, gently petting the purring feline. He knows that eventually Teekl’s owner will come for her, and he does want her to be returned, but another part of him wants her to stay with him forever.

Waking up to a warm, purring cat on his chest has to be one of the best feelings in the world. Danny doesn’t want this moment to end really. He feels like a normal teenager for the first time in a long while.

Trying not to dwell on the fact that he isn’t normal, the teen gently gets up to start his day. Teekl decides to lay in the warm spot he just left.

Danny dressed quickly, rushing through his morning routine, making sure he had enough time to take care of Teekl before he rushed off. After checking everything, and topping off her food in water, Danny crouched down beside his bed, eye level with the sweet tabby.

“Alright cutie, I have to go to school now. I topped off your food and water. There are plenty of comfy and warm places to take a nap. Stay out of the fridge. I’m pretty sure the hotdogs have overthrown the ham. Also stay out of the basement. It’s dangerous and my parents wouldn’t know lab safety if it bit them.” Danny stated as he rubbed her head.

He stood up. Two rings of bright light engulfed him, and a moment later a teen in a black and white hazmat suit, white hair that seemed to move with no wind, and a pair of glowing green eyes.

“I’ll be back after school.” Danny said with a wave, turning intangible as he rushed off to school.

In his hurry he didn’t notice the glint in feline’s eye as he rushed off to school. Softly jumping down from the bed, she made her way to the door and down the stairs, only stopping for a bit of food and a drink of water.

Teekl would have usually returned as quickly as possible to Klarion, but this time was different. The being that helped her had smelled of death and power, and she was curious, after all she was a cat.

—————

Danny had made it to school on time for once, and was able to grab some food before class started.

“Wow you're on time for once.” Tucker snickered.

“Yeah, I woke up early to take care of Teeks, and no ghosts, so I also grabbed breakfast.” Danny bragged.

“Teeks? You already gave her a nickname? Danny, you know she’s not your cat.” Sam stated.

“I know. It’s just a nickname, don't worry.” Danny replied as he turned toward the board as the bell range.

—————

By lunch Danny was bored and missed Teekl. His idea of sneaking out and checking on her during lunch got thrown out as his ghost sense went off. Lunch Lady was back and had taken over the cafeteria. Ducking for cover behind an overturned table, he peered out to a scene that made his blood run cold.

“No animals in the cafeteria!” Shrieked the ghost, hurling meat at an orange tabby. “Get out now or I’ll turn you into meatloaf.”

——————-

Klarion had been flying around for hours searching for his familiar and he had finally tracked her down to a school. Racing down the hall, dodging fleeing teenagers, he finally reached a set over double doors, flung them open and was shocked by the scene in front of him.

The black-haired teen, who had asked him out during his fight with Young Justice was standing on a pile of meat, holding his beloved familiar, and wielding what looked like a thermos that was sucking up a ghost wearing a hair net. A truly chaotic site to behold.

After capping the strange device, the interesting blue-eyed boy turns to the remaining occupants of the room and opened his mouth.

“I have only had Teekl for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I thermos everyone in this room, and then myself.”

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny fenton #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #klarion #chaoticspirit #danny and klarion friendship #klarion dc #klarion danny #klarion the witch boy #part 2 #Dig You A Grave

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ludibriadormonoteista · 3 months

Text

*Jaune is seen playing on a laptop alone in his dorm room*

Jaune: Oh, c’mon, Neptune! That was an 80% shot you just missed!

*Pyrrha suddenly enters the room after finishing her morning workout*

Pyrrha: Hello, Jaune. Were you talking to Neptune just now?

Jaune: Oh, not really. I wasn’t actually talking to him. It’s just a game I’m playing.

Pyrrha: A game? Which one is it this time?

Jaune: You’re gonna love this one. The name is Xcom 2. It’s a turn-based strategy game where you play as the Commander of an entire resistance group against an Alien coalition that has taken over the planet.

Pyrrha: Sounds… Really cool? *Not really into games*

Jaune: You can check it out if you want.

*Pyrrha shrugs, climbing onto the bed next to her leader. At that moment, Jaune selects one of his units, a female soldier with a minigun, and fires a barrage against an enemy trooper*

Jaune: Pretty awesome, huh?

Pyrrha: Yeah, pretty… Wait, that soldier with the beret and sunglasses looks familiar.

Jaune: Oh yeah, that’s Coco. I made her into the game.

Pyrrha: You made her?

Jaune: The game comes with a character pool in which you can create your own custom soldiers. It’s a very nifty feature.

Pyrrha: I see… How much time did you spend on that, exactly?

Jaune: A whole awful lot. I’ll show you in just a sec.

*A mission and a result screen later, Jaune gives Pyrrha a tour of his base*

Jaune: So this is the Avenger. A stolen alien ship and the perfect hiding spot for our base. And these *Click* are my soldiers!

*Pyrrha’s eyes widen as she sees the names of each character Jaune has made*

Pyrrha: Awnn~ These are all of our friends! Jaune, this is so cute!

Jaune: Heheh yeah, I mean... *Clears throat* Like I said, pretty cool. They all have different classes and specialties too. Like Nora here. *Click* She’s a heavy-gunner just like Coco, but she’s mainly built for demolitions. In short, she has a lot of grenades.

Jaune: I also assigned Ren and Ruby as Sharpshooters. Only difference being that Ruby is the dedicated long-ranged sniper while Ren is the gunslinger.

Jaune: Blake on the other hand is a Ranger solely built for stealth, making her perfect for scouting ahead and striking when the aliens least expect.

Jaune: As for Weiss, I gave her the role of Specialist. She ensures all of our soldiers are alive on the field while providing technical support with some objectives.

Pyrrha: Awn, she even has a cute drone following her. As does Yang…?

Jaune: Yeah, I sorta forgot to assign Yang a specific class, so the game randomly promoted her into a Specialist too. She technically has the same role as Weiss, but I mostly use her to shock enemies. Also, overwatch spam. Those are pretty powerful.

Pyrrha: *Snorts* As long as it stays true to her character.

Jaune: OH! Before I forget. *Click* Say hi to you!

*Pyrrha watched mesmerized at the screen as Jaune showed her a seamlessly flawless recreation of her in-game. From her hairstyle, to her armor, even the exact same tiara*

Pyrrha: Wow… How did you…

Jaune: I stumbled upon a Pyrrha Nikos character pack not long ago. You’d be surprise what the modding community can cook up from time to time. Though now that I think about it, I guess it’s kinda creepy seeing something like that from your perspective…

Pyrrha: No, NO! I loved it! For realsies! I, uh… What does she, eh, I do?

Jaune: Well, unlike other classes, yours here is actually a “Hero” class. In this case, a Templar. Someone who can run headfirst into combat with nothing but a pair of blades and come out unscratched. Kinda like, eh… You.

Pyrrha: /// /// Jaune…

Jaune: And I do mean unscratched. You haven’t taken damage the entire campaign. The RNGods must be pleased with you.

Pyrrha: *Pretending to have understood that* Wow, Jaune. This is so- *Blinks* Wait… Where is your character?

Jaune: My… Character?

Pyrrha: Yeah, your- Oh, I get. Since you play as the Commander, that means you must be him, right?

Jaune: Oh, not at all. I actually made a character after myself in-game too.

Pyrrha: Really? Well, where is he?

Jaune: *Winces* How do I tell you this… He died at Gatecrasher. You know, the very first mission of the campaign.

Pyrrha: …What?

Jaune: It was a really dumb move of me. I left him out of cover, and he got zapped by a Sectoid.

Pyrrha: …

Jaune: It kinda sucks to lose a soldier that early on in the campaign, but it’s nothing to worry about. And he was still a recruit, so nothing of value was really lost-

Pyrrha: Restart it.

Jaune: Huh? Restart what? The previous mission?

Pyrrha: The campaign. Restart it.

Jaune: What? Pyrrha, I’m already 5 hours in, I can’t just-

Pyrrha: RIGHT! *Snatches Laptop* NOW!

Jaune: H-HEY! *Struggles to get it back* DON’T TOUCH MY SAVE FILE!

Pyrrha: AND BE SURE TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT THIS TIME!

Jaune: PYRRHA, KNOCK IT OFF! IT WAS AN ACCEPTABLE LOSS!

Pyrrha: YOU ARE NOT AN ACCEPTABLE LOSS, GOSH-DARN IT!

#rwby #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc #arkos #pyrrha x jaune #Jaune was playing with Ironman Mode enabled beeteedubs

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swordcreature · 4 months

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Can I request HCs for when reader steps onto the bachlors tieflings (including zevlor) tail? Like would they start hissing like a cat?

for some reason i thought this was really cute. thank u for sending it!

love these grown ass men who i will continue to call my baby boys

Dammon, Rolan, & Zevlor - Stepping on His Tail

the smallest implication of sexually suggestive material. just to be safe MDNI/18+

How the tiefling boys react when you step on their tail

Dammon:

Dammon has hurt his tail so many times during the course of his smithing career that it’s virtually immune to pain at this point. It’s littered with scars from base to tip, all from accidents in the forge. He has burned it on some coals, smashed it with a hammer, caught it in a vice grip, cut it on a blade. You name it and he’s done it.

That’s all to say that he barely notices when you step on his tail. You could put your full weight on it and still would only turn around when he realizes his tail is stuck.

He finds it cute that you’re so worried about him, that you think you could hurt him with a quick pinch under your foot when he has literally dropped molten metal on it before.

In fact, most times that it happens, you react more than him, gasping and flinching like you’re the one hurt, meanwhile Dammon is just lightly laughing at how nervous you are. It’s endearing to him, endlessly.

The only part of his tail that even remotely has enough sensitivity left to be hurt by getting stepped on is the very tip. It’s the thinnest, so it makes sense.

Still, when you do, the only reaction you’ll get out of him is a little jump, more surprised than anything. Even if it hurt him, he’s used to little bumps and bruises from his work, so a little pain is nothing to him. But he may ask you to do something similar when you’re alone and in bed later.

Rolan:

Rolan has a lot of different reactions to getting his tail stepped on, and it mostly depends on who is doing the stepping. For instance, in the street, getting stepped on by a complete stranger? Well, they’d probably get a nicer reaction from a displacer beast, to be honest.

But for you, he’s actually very reserved, if you can believe it.

You can tell as soon as it happens that he’s frustrated. His back is pin straight, and his shoulders are raised so high you think they might hit the ceiling. He doesn’t look back at you for a good moment or two. Straight up trying to hold his breath to calm himself.

When he turns around, he’s trying to disguise the fact that he’s wincing but it just comes across as him gritting his teeth. He offers a tight smile but it looks so disingenuous it’s almost funny.

If you try to apologize he accepts it gracefully, though he is fooling no one. He looks like he’s about to scream. It’s not that it’s that painful or anything, kind of like stubbing a toe. He’s just dramatic.

If it were anyone else, he would be letting loose a barrage of insults about how unobservant they are and how only an idiot could miss the big, swinging appendage right in front of them. But since it’s you, he holds it back and quickly excuses himself for a second.

He’ll go off to some room where he can close the door and silently scream in frustration, letting out his irritation before he comes back out to continue whatever you two were doing.

He’s not so nice if you do it again any time soon though.

Zevlor:

He’s an older tiefling, he’s been around the block, so to speak. He’s definitely dealt with people stepping on his tail. Sometimes people have even done it on purpose.

Still, every time it happens, he reacts the same exact way.

Now, Zevlor isn’t one to swear often, he prefers more meaningful words as opposed to being crass. But when you step on his tail, he can’t help but let out a ‘godsdamnit’. It’s one of the more profane things you’ve ever heard him say outside of combat.

Funny enough, he has the most sensitive tail out of the three bachelors. And he shows it, whether he gets a quick pinch or a hard stomp. He’s bent over clutching at his tail like you just cut it off. In his commanding days he would literally shake off the slash of a sword better than this. It’s his one weakness.

It’s over fairly quickly though, and you can tell he’s embarrassed by his outburst. When you apologize, he brushes off the whole incident as though nothing happened.

There’s nothing for you to worry about, he assures you, he’s quite fine. It wasn’t that bad, you just got him on a tender spot is all. No need to press on about it.

You catch him babying his tail for the rest of the day. You offer to kiss it better, and he turns a dark shade of red, going completely silent. Even though the thought of your lips on his tail makes it twitch with excitement.

#bg3 #bg3 dammon #bg3 rolan #bg3 zevlor #dammon x reader #rolan x reader #zevlor x reader #baldur's gate 3 #HCs #my writing #requests/suggestions #anon

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? (König x F!OC)

Part 3/3 of Valkyrie

(Part 2 here)

(Part 1 here)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters.

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi.

The first thing she noticed was the combat dummy in the corner of the room. There was no light in the ceiling, only a small table lamp on the floor next to his bed... Which was really only a thin mattress placed on the floor with a meticulously tucked bed sheet on it. There was no furniture to speak of except for the tall gun safe and some bland table where he had a kettle and a half-open bag of bread lying next to a toaster. There was a small fridge under the table, and deposited there on top of it, out of direct sight, a simple knuckle duster.

Piles of books lay on the floor next to his so called bed, and she was pleasantly surprised: he didn't strike her as a bookworm type of guy. She briefly caught sight of a few titles, mostly nonfiction: he had volumes on rifles and combat sports like krav maga and escrima, along with some German books about hunting, knives…— and there were knives all over the place: hanging from a lone hook on the wall, lying on the table, next to a pile of books, next to the mattress. Probably hidden ones, too, but where in all this minimalistic scarceness, she couldn't tell.

He didn't have a television. There was no computer, not even a laptop. She wondered how his officers got in touch with him, for it was dubious that he even owned a phone.

"This is where I sleep," he introduced his apartment, waving a hand in a vague gesture that said It's not much, but it's home.

She didn't know whether to feel pity or terror. She was relatively sure she was the first girl to set foot in here. The red flags were all over the place, but she only felt a tug near her heart from the realization that this guy was lonely. Like really, really lonely. Potential school shooter who grew up kind of lonely.

God, why did she have to have a soft spot for lunatics like him...

"Would you like some coffee?"

He turned to look at her, and she felt tightness in her chest from that drained, sad stare. He had been so carefree, so giddy, but all of that was gone. She had seen it in the pub already, the moment she laid eyes on him, that something was terribly wrong. She wondered who was the one responsible for making this man lose his goofiness. Shed that lovely, inculpable nature that made him singularly him. Whoever it was, she wanted to smack them in the head. Hard.

Without his gear and mask or even that black face paint, he looked more human. There were no barriers between them, no profession stamped on him: he was simply…him. But the intensity was there, always there. He was an outrageously tall, athletic man, and teeming with latent violence.

She wasn’t intimidated by that, per se. She had fired her rifle alongside dozens of big, dangerous men. Menacing men. It was something else, something essential in this man's character that made her feel a little on edge.

If her mother could see where she was now, in a dark flat filled with nothing but weapons and white bread and a towering, introverted dynamite stick of a man, she would probably deem the situation more dangerous for her than Russia and Brazil combined.

"No thanks, I'm good."

He ran his fingers through his hair, which was much longer than 8 months ago. He still had that side shave, but the light ash curls on top were unkempt and fell partly on his forehead.

"Or tea? I think I got tea here somewhere… "

And there he was: that adorable, silly man she had fallen for.

If nothing more, she would make it her mission to at least get him to smile.

She shook her head slowly before walking to him and grabbing two fistfuls of his black t-shirt. He straightened like someone had called ten-hut, making it clear that she wasn't the only one who felt like a tightly coiled spring. But someone had to make the first move. Someone had to do something.

He had shaved a day, maybe two ago, and the stubble that dusted his chin and the top of his upper lip was only a faint shadow, but still coarse enough to sting her skin as she got up on her toes to kiss him.

He closed his eyes and bent into it. He didn't touch her, wouldn't reach for her, just opened his mouth against hers and moaned. Like a tortured man about to break.

"Mh- I've thought about you every day," she whispered, still clinging to his shirt, and he finally wrapped his arms around her. "Every damn day…"

"Meine kleine Walküre…"

"I thought I would go mad at some point."

I didn't know who you were, I couldn't come back to you, I knew nothing about you.

"I know."

He knew.

He knew the slow descent into madness, the craving. The mornings that felt like waking up in a limbo. The nights that only sharpened the pain.

And of course he did.

"You kept me alive," he said as his erection pressed against her, and her mind was flooded with memories of the grey room, the bleak light in the ceiling, the ropes biting into her wrists, the way he fucked her like they were both going to die the next day.

And she realized that he was real. He wasn't a schizophrenic dream or an erotic nightmare. He wasn't even a soldier; he was a man, a person.

He was a real, actual person under that hood and face paint and tactical vest and ammo pouches. He had an apartment and dirty socks on the floor, and he drank lager, and he had toast and a toaster, and he owned relatively normal clothes.

And right now, even though her panties were soaked, she didn't want him inside her.

"I'm a bit nervous," she said, stiff and near the point of breaking into a cold sweat. He caressed the small of her back and shoved his crotch against her even more eagerly.

"König, please… Could you just… hold me?"

He stopped and swallowed, and his hands traveled back up.

"I will do whatever you wish."

"Perhaps we could lie down? And just… hug, you know?"

"I'd love that," he said, sounding genuinely enthusiastic.

His sheets smelled of him, and she felt the cold sweat intensify. Her stomach sank, and she was glad that she was lying down because her feet wouldn't probably carry her at this point. He laid himself down next to her and gave her his pillow. It was a lovely gesture, but she felt like she was lying down with a murderer. Which he was. Which she was. They both had killed, her confirmed body count reaching 23 when she had left the SpecGru. His count was probably much higher...

She snuggled closer, tucked her head under his chin, and let him hold her. His whole body was tense, but he eased into the embrace after ten or twenty breaths. Cuddling usually came after the sex; after the release of stress and tension, and right now, they were both like teenagers in an empty house with the parents gone. Sweating with the jitters of coming to know how the other person's body felt like.

She dragged a leg over him at some point, and he sank his own between hers, and they just breathed each other. She wondered how they must look, her small form and light blue jeans and white shirt swallowed by all that black he wore. A fair little lady cuddled by a dark giant. A giant who everyone could tell, just by the clothes he wore, was either an employed soldier or a crazy militarist. And she liked that. She fucking loved that he didn't disguise himself as an ordinary civilian. Unlike she did, and she felt like a liar... along with feeling tired of pretending that she wanted the next bachelor when all she really wanted was a guy like him.

Finally, her nerves calmed down, and she could hear the silence of the room, the sound of his breathing, could feel the warmth of his arms around her.

"This feels good," she told him.

"This feels better than anything," he answered.

He seemed peaceful too. All that shifting around had turned into deep breaths and a steady heartbeat. She caressed his back, closed her eyes, and pressed her cheek more firmly against his chest — how many times had she dreamed of this moment? She inhaled him, and the scent aroused different memories this time, making her feel like a balloon drifting up to the ceiling.

"I like you, König." She squeezed him against her. "Like, a lot."

He squeezed her back and announced: "I love you."

Her mind went blank and then screamed error.

She wriggled out of his grasp, propped herself on her elbow, and looked down at him. He stared at her like a dog waiting for a treat from a well-done trick.

"You can't say that, König."

His long, pale lashes batted a few times, and a vertical wrinkle appeared between his brows.

"No, you... You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry. It's just that..." She pursed her lips, bit her lower lip, and placed a hand on his chest. "We barely know each other."

His eyes darted from her lips to her eyes, confused. "But I already know I love you."

How could she argue with a man who looked at her like that? Who looked like a dog being scolded for things he didn’t know he wasn't supposed to do…

I went to therapy because of you.

We met in a fucking bunker where you were asking politely if I would co-operate in you raping me. Fucking co-operate…

And you looked like Death…

"König… Baby, I don't even know your name."

He wrapped an arm around her waist in an attempt to pull her closer.

"Julius."

He said it from the back of his throat, it rolled off his tongue and ended in a soft hiss, and she felt lighter in the head by the minute.

Julius, like… Julius Caesar.

Or July. June and July.

This was so fucked up…

"Can I taste you?"

The wintry eyes looked at her, begging.

"Let me taste you, June. Please…"

Oh God… Yes, please, yes.

"Umm. Sure.."

He moved immediately, and she was almost thrown to lie on her back while he reached for her jeans to take them off, his large hands clumsy and cold against her exposed skin. She raised her hips to help him as he pulled them down, trying to stifle a giggle that was bubbling inside at seeing him so keen on giving her head. The pants got stuck on her ankles, and he tugged them off one leg at a time, causing one sock to come off and the other to come halfway down. And he just left it there, being too preoccupied with getting back between her legs to reach for her panties.

She thanked herself for having put on the smaller, black brazilian knickers instead of some comfortable, worn-out hipsters. And that she had shaved...

He was much more attentive with this piece of clothing, sliding it down like he was opening a gift. And when he took the panties off and still left that lonely sock unattended, crumpled, and forgotten, she couldn't help but snicker.

"Was?"

He looked at her with a perplexed smirk, clueless as to what was so funny — but smiling just for the sake of having made her laugh. The black underwear looked tiny in his hands as he placed it next to the bed.

She remembered how he had left her socks on in the bunker, too, perhaps because he was in a nervous hurry. Or perhaps because he didn't want her to feel cold.

She bent her leg and took it off herself, throwing it somewhere behind him.

"Nothing. Except that you're officially the cutest."

He ran a hand through his hair again. That bashful, boyish attitude made her realize just how much she had missed him. His gaze flicked to her eyes, darted between her legs, flew to examine the floor… and she could see the tent in his pants even though there was little light in the room.

"And now the shirt," she rose to seated and raised her hands up, making it clear what she wanted him to do. He wasted no time pulling it over her head but froze when he was met with the black, laced bra, the only barrier left between him and her complete nakedness.

As much as she wanted to, she didn't tease him by making him figure out the mechanism. She reached for the clasp, and he leaned slightly back when she took it off with little ceremony and threw it on the floor with the rest of her clothing. When she grabbed his hand to bring it to her breast, he looked like he had stopped breathing altogether.

"Everything good?"

"Perfekt," he said, looking terrified.

"Come here," she pulled him by the neck all the way down to lay on top of her. He supported himself on his elbows while his hands came to cradle her head. He was tense again, and she wondered whether the cuddling had been a bad idea — he had relaxed too much and was now overstimulated.

The whole body on her was rigid, but his mouth was soft and warm as he kissed her — so greedily that her legs began to ride up along his sides. When he moved to wolf her neck, her weakest spot, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he finally melted against her.

"I dreamed of you," he breathed against her skin, making her eyes flutter open and her pussy clench around nothing. "Every night…"

Through the euphoria of his accent and lips, she deciphered that what he actually meant was that he had masturbated on thoughts of her. And she had done the same: stroked herself night after night on thoughts of him telling her how tight and good she felt around him. It was downright sinful how many times she had reminisced the high-pitched sighs, that vulnerable look he had when he shot his cum inside her.

"Did you ever think of me?" He asked with a frail voice.

She had gone on a few dates, had a few fucks. Ended up feeling disappointed, and even more lonely. Dirty and sad — like she was cheating on him…

"If only you knew just how much," she whispered to the ceiling above her.

He brushed a trembling thumb over her cheek and buried himself even deeper in her neck.

"Shit… Ist das dein Ernst?"

She loved it when he spoke German. And hated how most of the time, she couldn’t understand what the hell he was saying.

"June... Du machst mich verrückt."

"What are you saying, silly…"

"You drive me crazy."

He was so… present, devoted. So unlike the men who almost screamed "Score" when they got this far. He was saying stupid, lovely things that didn't sound at all like a yucky romcom, not when they came from him. He ripped her clothes off because he wanted to please her, taste her... And had no trouble pressing against her while having his own clothes still on — those black pants that would get stained if he continued to grind against her drenched pussy like that.

"You'll drive me crazy too if you don't finish what you started..."

He chuckled and resumed giving her those tiny kisses that only left her wanting more.

"Don't worry, little one." He planted a last kiss on her collarbone before diving down.

"I'm not -"

The rest of the sentence turned into a gasp as his lips swept over her sternum, her nipples, sent shivers across her stomach as he trailed down, down…

"Yes you are," he muttered against her mound, going further down still. Like a man with a purpose.

Hot air hit her as his tongue swept through her folds, first pointed and quivering, then flat and hungry. Her hand shot out to grasp his hair, those stupid, adorable curls that drove her to the brink of insanity.

"Mmh," he moaned in her pussy, pressing his lips against her and opening his mouth. She didn't have time to worry about the bite of his stubble, for he pushed his tongue out. Either he had an excellent memory, or then it was beginner's luck, but he hit just the right spot as the hot, wet tongue plunged slightly inside her.

"Oh - fuck.. "

He got the cue to the full, shoving even deeper, sweeping arms around her thighs to pull her against his face. He decoded her within minutes with a combination of flicks, sweeps, and thrusts. She opened her legs wider, felt herself open like a flower, felt the juices leak out while he was at it like a tried and true engine. So tireless that it sent her thighs quivering. They never did that — at least not with anyone else. It was his unique talent to make a mess of her. If he proved smart enough to apply fingers, she would lose her goddamn mind.

"You are dripping," he informed from among the sloppy sounds she was perfectly aware of. "Like a honeycomb…"

What was it with this man that nearly made her cry?

He kissed her with devotion, almost like he was kissing her lips. The languid pecks and slow nips soon turned into french kissing as he applied tongue again. Her fingers curled into his hair on their own accord and pulled. She could feel his mouth open into a grin before a soft huff hit her.

"Heh…" he kissed her again, "Gierig.."

"What does… ah -.. that mean?"

She could’ve cried from frustration when he slowly got back up to his knees. His lips and chin glistened with her - and he was grinning adorably. That earlier naive cuteness made such a comeback that she had a hard time catching her breath.

"Greedy." He licked his lips. "You like it?"

She nodded a few times, many times, and the impish, pussy-drunk grin of his only widened.

"Gut."

He made a move to return down there, looking like he had received the best assignment ever.

"König… Uh, Julius?" She pronounced it like July, and he corrected her immediately.

"Julius."

So husky and sweet from those soaked lips — like music.

"Julius," she rose back to seated, thighs still trembling, and grabbed the front of his shirt. "Could you take this off?"

He reached back with both hands and pulled it off, leaving his hair all tousled once the fabric was drawn over his head. She vaguely knew what to expect, but the amount of muscle still made her gawk like a goldfish.

The man was like a roman sculpture. Not an artificial, overly shredded fitness type of thing, but a man who used his body like it was meant to be used. The light brown hair between the plates of his chest was simply irresistible. She placed a hand on it, and he looked down, fascinated by what she was doing. She ran her fingers through the soft, sparse hair, trailed the breath of it all the way down to his navel. The muscles there rippled at her touch. He was ticklish… and some stupid part of her brain squealed at the discovery.

She wondered whether he had been touched before, whether he had been touched much at all. He had an ungodly shoulders to hips ratio, and a broad, toned physique, which alone should've made women want to crawl all over him. Perhaps he had walked through life half invisible because he wanted to stay that way - in hiding. And suddenly she felt special, outright exceptional... for having been chosen, having been granted access to him. His world.

He trusted her. It should've been a compliment, even a turn-on, but she felt like she didn't deserve it. And it was too late to turn back...

Looking up to his eyes which were fixed on her, expectant and dark, her fingers dropped to his pants, curled under the waistband, and gave it a tug.

"And everything else, too."

He sat back on his legs, opened the belt, undid the zipper, and stood up to take his pants off. From where she was looking, he was like a god, the muscles on his thighs bunching as he switched his weight from one leg to the other to yank his pants down and socks away. When he was finally free of those clothes, he grabbed that monster between his legs with one hand, lifted it, and stroked it absentmindedly while looking down at her, all hungry. Possessive...

Car lights flashed through the window and painted shadows on the wall, on him, painting him with blue and black just before he descended upon her. She greeted him with spread legs and open arms as he got down, carefully, like a man preparing to pray. With his hand still wrapped around himself, he guided the tip to her folds, brows knit together like he was on a serious mission that required all his attention. She reached a hand to grab him too, and it was like a dream, the way they directed him inside together.

Her inner muscles welcomed him home with a greedy pull, not bothered by the stretch that only felt fucking delicious.

She pushed him further in with her legs, wrapped around his hips like a starfish around prey. He was forced to fall on his hands, and he exhaled like someone easing into a hot bath, blowing air from the raw sensation — although he was dipping into somewhere far better than that, she presumed.

She noticed a scar on his neck as he exposed his throat, half-lidded eyes drifting closed with pleasure. Her hand rose on its own will to touch the white protrusion, fingertips caressing the spot where someone had tried to finish him and failed.

And she knew that she didn’t want to spend her life without this man.

Didn’t want to spend a day without him anymore.

He flinched at her touch, looking like he was the one being fucked and not the other way around. Her touch was a reminder that someone had gotten too close - way too close. And had probably paid the full price for their insolence.

“Baby…” she whispered, and his head dropped with a broken sigh, hanging heavy against his chest as he slid in and out of her. It was supposed to be a homecoming, a sweet reunion, but he was shaking and sobbing, grunting between the thrusts.

She knew he was repeating the words in his head, the words he thought she didn’t want to hear.

Fuck it… I love you too.

It was a deafening declaration in her head, one she couldn’t snuff out, one that only got louder as he thrust deeper, pressed against her, and moaned as he buried his face in her hair.

“You feel so good… taste so good,” he said, “smell so good…”

Having the biggest, baddest mercenary of a rivaling military contractor between her legs, sighing how good she was, might be reason enough to seek therapy — but it was also the one thing she knew would send her straight to heaven.

And it was too much.

He was too much. She didn't want to cry, and she didn't want him to hold her, to slide in and out slowly, fondly, lovingly. Just the way he was doing right now… She wanted to drown the blooming intimacy, she wanted him to shut the fuck up and fuck her.

More than anything, she wanted to escape the feeling that she belonged here, with him.

“Please… just..”

“Talk to me, Engel.”

Shit.. It was a purr.

“I need you harder.”

He only slowed down, confused.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” she said, hating herself for tearing apart the one thing she loved most about him.

But he did as he was bid, upping the tempo, going deeper, breaking her in all the ways she wanted him to. Needed him to.

"Like this?" The voice was abrupt, metallic, almost freezing. It didn't belong to a man, it belonged to a soldier executing an order.

“Yes…”

He was looking at her, and this time it was her turn to avoid the gaze. She already knew it was filled with confusion and hunger and sadness. She looked at his muscles at work, the ridiculously large cock disappearing into her, she looked at the scars... That scar, the one that screamed that not only he was lucky that the weapon had missed by an inch. That she should count her blessings, too.

At some point, he grunted in frustration and moved to throw her legs over his shoulders. He could pound inside even deeper like this, and it didn’t hurt at all, even though she felt a strange warmth pool somewhere deep in her abdomen.

He fucked her on that thin mattress and all she could think about was whether he would offer her tea or coffee after, or bring her toast to the bed.

“Harder..”

The sheet started to come off, the slick sounds bordering on pornographic, his chest getting covered in sweat.

God, she made him sweat. She wanted to wash him after, smear him with whatever stupid shower gel he had in his apartment that reeked of loneliness, a fragrance she knew more than well.

She wondered if he would want to cuddle again after they had showered together. Or cuddle before, so she could inhale his scent, the full brunt of him. If she could stay for the night. Fuck…

“Harder.”

He dared to whimper, dared to look at her all helpless. But obeyed.

Shit, he felt good. Too good. Too fucking….

"Wait..."

She was about to come, but something was different.

"Wait-"

Something was wrong and right at the same time, the thickness and length pressing onto something unusually delicious. It left her shaking, caused her to feel full to the brim. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, and he wouldn't relent with the thrusts, but he had to soon enough, for she burst, literally, with wetness that spread through the sheets under them and caused his cock to fly out of her with a gush of moisture.

Oh jesusfuckinggod… -

He was between her legs, cock bouncing up and down. It was sheened with an insane amount of natural lube, and he was looking down at what she had done.

"What happened?"

The innocent question, the humiliation made her cheeks pang with heat.

Take a deep breath, calm down, calm the fuck down..

"It's…"

It's called squirting, you adorable big puppy. You just made me fucking squirt.

"It's a woman's orgasm but times ten?"

She wanted to add Jesus Christ I'm sorry, and it's a good thing, trust me, but she didn't need to.

"I… made you do that?"

She nodded, and another wide grin slowly spread on his face. He adored the scene, amazed and eyes sparkling like it was Christmas morning and he had walked up to see that there were presents under the tree.

He reached for his cock to insert himself back inside, but she jerked away.

"No, wait… It - it might happen again," she stuttered a warning. She wasn't sure, but she didn't want to take the risk. This kind of thing had never occurred, even if she knew what it was. Even envied those who had had the experience. But for the love of god, why did it have to be him out of all men who got to witness it when it finally happened…

But he only looked even more reckless. Almost wild.

"So let's do it again!" He was so excited that his voice spiked up a few notes.

"But your sheets…"

"Nevermind them," he huffed, ecstatic, and crawled forward. He pushed inside, fast and luscious, and she knew right then and there that it would definitely happen again.

He began to ruin her with a frenzy that was almost eerie. The rhythm of slick sounds told her enough, told her that he pistoned her with a pace that would soon drive her insane.

“You’re a fucking fantasy, June,” he groaned, the darker parts of what made him a ruthless professional soldier leaking through.

"Oh God," she breathed this time, deciding she could feel ashamed later. "It feels so fucking good…"

"I'll be good to you, Engel, I'll be good," he grunted as he continued to fuck her brains out.

She cursed and moaned and wailed, letting all his neighbours know that the big, quiet soldier boy was good at what he did. Fucking best. And she knew she should've said her prayers when her eyes rolled in her head and she started to see white.

It didn't take longer than a second or two before it happened again, this time with a force that nearly made her snap and split in half. More than a few squirts hit him as he pulled out. His jaw hung open like he was looking at fireworks.

“Huh -mh, yeah,” he wheezed, sounding dazed. “Verdammt - scheiße…”

She was writhing, crying, shedding actual tears — grabbing the sheet next to her head with one hand and beside her thigh with the other. Her legs were spread like she was on display, her thighs shaking like the muscles there had been permanently damaged. Kate had been more right than should've been legally fair…

"Gott, du bist schön," he commented on the sight while stroking himself, eased by the fluids all over his cock.

She thought about helping him, but couldn't get up, couldn't even move her hands, could only pant and shudder as he milked himself before her to a quick release.

He threw his head back and almost roared, and the only thing on her mind was the phrase saddest people cum the hardest as his seed shot out in generous spurts, hitting her almost in the face. The first gush already ran down her neck by the time the second fell, a thick rope of cum landing on her breasts, the rest on her stomach.

Something twisted in her stomach when she realized he had called her beautiful one moment and proceeded to cover her with cum the next.

Men…

But it was so fucking good that she only wanted to raise a hand and spread his seed all over her. He was breathing heavily with a softening cock in his fist, the last of the cum dripping to join the mess she had made.

"I hope you got a spare one," she looked at the destroyed sheet between them.

"Yeah," he panted still, half-lidded eyes looking at her up and down like he was piss-drunk and about to pass out.

She patted the space next to her, and he collapsed there, staring at the ceiling, probably trying to remember his name. She took his arm and raised it to wiggle herself under it and against him.

It felt good, being glued to him like this… Naked and spent and sweaty. He shifted, turned to face her, and took her in his arms as they both lay on their side, breathing heavily. She was pressed against the damp hair on his chest while his cum trailed little pathways between them.

"Please tell me you're mine, little Valkyrie," he whispered in her hair. He inhaled deeply and exhaled fully, like he had been in the thin mountain air and only now got enough oxygen again.

"June, I want you and no one else."

Oh, honey… it's just the mind-blowing sex talking.

It was pillow talk and hormones and trauma and all that shit. She was now 110 % sure that he had lost his virginity in that bunker. He wasn't the first nor the last man who thought they had fallen in love with a woman, not realizing what they had really fallen for was sex.

"I love you, June. If you don't want to hear it anymore, I won't say it. But it's true."

"Look…" she sighed.

This was so fucking awkward...

"Have you ever been in love before..?"

"No."

"Listen. I like you, you're a nice guy. And I want to get to know you, really, I do…-"

His breath had shallowed — far too much. The large chest beside her heaved, and she could both hear and feel his heart thumping. He shifted away from her, and she snapped her mouth shut. Slowly, she raised to look at him, and the sight drove a fucking lance through her heart.

She didn’t really know what a panic attack was, but was fairly positive that he was about to have one. He was laying on his back, big palms against his head, and he slid them over his eyes, trying to hide from her. His breathing was getting out of hand by the minute.

Fuck… Why did she have to fucking ruin everything?

"Hey, baby. It's alright. Everything's all right, just.. Breathe. Or talk to me…?"

He balanced on the edge of hyperventilation, still holding his head with his hands, eyes squeezed shut and that beautiful face distorted into agony and pain.

"You don't… want me."

Ice seeped into the pit of her stomach.

"Yeah, it's true I've never been with anyone. I was too shy. Ich habe nie bekommen, was ich wirklich will. Alle lachten und nannten mich Schwul… Und das war nicht das Einzige- mmh."

He was sweating from the German confession she understood but a few words of.

The only thing she caught was something about everyone laughing at him. People were horrible sometimes… or usually. People were vile, they were fucking bullies. But even if he was a bit too kind, a little too eager to please, and socially more than a bit on the awkward side of things, she had thought it a miracle that anyone would pester someone of his size. But exclusion and words could hurt too.

And she felt like an asshole.

She was good at bringing down strong, beautiful things. She liked to drag them through the mud. She was talented at taking aim at the most vulnerable parts and pulling the trigger... But he was already there. He was looking at her from a pool of blood and shit and tears. And she was not the only one who got traumatized in that box made of cement. She was not the only one who had had it rough growing up. From what she could tell, he had had it much worse.

"June, you feel so good that it hurts."

Shit…

Her stomach burst with golden fireflies, a warmth that spread to her heart, her whole chest. Ice and gold and fire mixed together, and she knew it was dangerous… He was dangerous. He was the most frightening thing she had ever faced.

She reached to brush his chest, feeling clumsy, like a child. A total amateur when it came to these things.

"You feel good too," she whispered. "So good. I'm just- I'm scared. It's scary."

She put her arm around him and pulled, then yanked when he wouldn't move. He turned, and she took him in her arms. His head pressed inelegantly between her breasts as she gave him a hug that she hoped would deliver all her affection.

He almost trembled in her arms, and the stabbing, burning feeling in her chest wouldn't stop.

"You really stole my heart, you know? Right from the start."

A breath of warm air crashed against her skin as she slowly stroked the back of his head and whispered in his hair.

"And I've thought about you ever since. It's ok if you want to say it. If that's how you truly feel. But please don't say that I don't want you. Because that sure as hell ain't true."

"...Ok," he muttered in her tits — a quiet, damped breath.

"König, could you just give me some… time? Just take it slow, if that's ok with you."

She refused to say his real name, knowing she wouldn't be able to lie anymore if she did. That she was just as far gone as he was, and having a radical acceptance moment about it. Even her therapist would’ve been proud… Or not. But she really didn't give a fuck.

She released her death grip on him a little, and he slowly raised his head to look at her. It was oddly charming that he was looking up at her and not the other way around.

"Take it slow. Ok. I promise I'll be good to you."

She tried her best not to burst into tears. She tried her very best to keep her hand steady as it caressed his hair, his neck, his back.

"You're so sweet."

She moved to kiss him, a pure cinematic kiss that was unhurried, exquisite, and just the kind of starved that told her he was the one.

"Anybody ever told you how sweet you are?" She whispered in his mouth and could feel how the muscles on his stomach contracted.

"Nein," he rasped back, voice so low that she nearly didn't recognize it belonged to him. He was getting hard again, too.

"Well, now you know," She kissed the top of his nose. She wondered if he had the kind of skin type that was full of freckles in summer.

"You're sweet," he said, the warmth of his words melting her like snow in spring, "like.. cotton candy. Or Apfelstrudel."

"Did you just call me a Strudel?"

"It's a dessert," he explained.

"I know it's a dessert, you… bear," she sputtered with her lack of words.

"Is that the best you can do?" He hummed against her lips, laughter barely a breath away.

"No. But it's your fault that my brain stops working."

He rolled partly on top of her again, his scent hitting her like a drug. The stubble scratched her skin, over and over again, as he kissed her, added tongue, sucked her lip, pressed against her like she was dying and he needed to give her mouth-to-mouth CPR asap.

When he withdrew, only an inch, she was breathless again. And he was smiling.

"Could you say it..? Please, just once. That you're my girl," he pressed his forehead on hers, his eyes betraying all the things she had no courage to show. He was many things, but he was certainly not a coward.

"I'm yours, King. I'm your girl."

"And I'm all yours, June."

She closed her eyes, savored those words, relished the feeling of commitment that was completely novel to her.

"When will you head back?"

"I… cannot tell you that."

She wondered how exactly she was supposed to go home with the knowledge that he would be out there in the field, changing mags amidst grenades and bullets.

"Soon."

"I gotta text Kate that I'm staying over. So she won't worry…"

"You'll stay for the night?"

He sounded so delighted. Excited. Like a dog wagging a tail... She wanted to crush him into another hug and cry until she felt raw.

"Yeah, if you change that sheet.”

She got up, walked to get her jacket, groped through the pockets — and her fingers caught to something small and bendy. Magical thinking or not, it felt like fate, and her lips curled into a small smile.

She found her phone, sent a text to Kate, then put it on mute, shoved it back into the pocket, and twiddled the plastic toy for a moment before closing it inside her palm.

When she returned to him, she had to do a double take. He looked so wiped out - so thoroughly drowsy and content - that it made the gold melt and spread inside her like fire.

"I have something for you."

He rose to his elbows, and she crouched beside him, took his hand, and dropped the small, olive-green toy soldier in his palm.

"It's my lucky charm. Had it on me on every mission."

It had a short key chain attached to it. She wondered whether he would tuck it inside his pocket, or if he would keep it on a table beside his bed. Or attach it somewhere, to bring him luck as it had brought to her. Even on that mission when KorTac had taken her as a prisoner. Especially on that mission…

"Can I ask something in return?"

"Anything."

She looked for it, found it on the floor, and picked it up.

"Can I have this?" She held up his black t-shirt and then brought it to her heart, grasping it tightly with two hands like a plush toy. "It smells of you," she explained, although it must've been obvious why she wanted it. The impact of her request on him was a swelling erection that twitched as he watched her, lips pursed tight, brows drawn together. He was blinking rapidly, trying to dry the tears that had started to form.

"Of course you can, Liebling."

"I can wrap myself in you even when you're away."

A miserable little groan escaped him as his lips tightened even more. She placed his shirt down and crawled back to the bed next to him.

"The downside is that it might stop having your scent in it," she pouted a lip, "but you can always bring me a fresh one when you come back, right?"

His sigh was heartbreaking.

"I can't help it, June."

"June, please don't take this the wrong way. I ask this question because you need to address it someday. Now… Is there any part of you that enjoyed it?"

She had thought of him every fucking day for the past 8 months now. She had thought of his hands, his cock, his puppy eyes, and most of all, that sad, abandoned look he gave her right before she turned and left.

"Did you like him?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"This is a place where you can safely say whatever is on your mind."

So what if it didn't make any sense? Who the fuck cared anyway?

Fuck it.

Just fuck it.

As if it was going to get any better by not saying it. Nothing could be worse than those months without him.

"You know what… I can't help it either. And I don't wanna take it slow."

---

"You've been kinda up lately."

Zero munched on whatever was on the menu today — König hadn't really paid mind to what it was.

"Leave went well?"

All eyes turned on him, and he was glad of the hood.

If only they knew just how well…

It had been the best leave ever. She hadn't stayed just for one night; she had stayed for three.

They had gone to see a new Marvel movie, and her kisses had tasted of popcorn and lemonade in the dark theatre. Half of the movie rolled past without him noticing what it was about. She had wanted to go to a sushi restaurant after and make him try all kinds of weird rolls — she had practically fed him with her own chopsticks, wanting to see what kind of reaction he had to each bite. They had gone to that pub for another round, and he had made her taste different types of beers, and when they got to pilsner and unfiltered witbier, she had stuck her tongue out and made a face. "You drink piss in Austria?"

They had gone to the gym, and he had taught her how to do a power clean, and she had insisted on staying in front of him when he did squats — for the purpose of giving him a quick kiss every time he did a rep, she informed him. He was supposed to do a series of 8 but ended up doing at least 12 reps, even with all that weight on his back.

He had shown her his favorite scope, detached it for her inspection from the SAKO he had in the safe. She said it was cool, but she knew a few better ones. And then she looked at him with a mischievous grin and said he should be fingering her instead of gun parts.

They had made love several times a day, just unhinged sex, until he felt soft in the head. Sex in the morning and sex in the evening, and sex at night when the other had woken up, too excited to sleep. They had showered together and done it there, too. He had dried her with his towel and carried her back to bed, all wet and giggling and soft and so sweet he had no words for her, neither in German nor English.

They had ordered takeaway on the last night, and he had watched as she ate it straight from the box, wearing only - and only - one of his shirts that looked huge on her. He had eaten her out not shortly after.

She gave him his first blowjob in the hallway of his apartment, just before he had to leave. He had almost missed the plane. Only when he was running to the gates that were already closing had it occurred to him that perhaps that's what she had aimed for.

And when the plane finally took off, he was blanketed by everything she said. That he was an adorable dumbass and her big boy and a gentleman and how good he was in bed, and that she would count the days to when they would see each other again. And that if he got killed, she would come and raise him from the dead and kill him again for daring to leave her.

"Ja, I got that pint. And the… girl."

"König got laid?" Fender nearly choked on his spaghetti.

Zero gave a hearty laugh, and König felt his cheeks grow hot under the mask.

"That's my man!"

He felt a slap on his back and Conor's eyes on him from across the table but didn't care.

They would eventually get interested in the toy soldier attached to his rifle, dangling from a key chain. The token bestowed upon him... her blessing. Physical evidence that she was real and had left with his shirt and now slept in it.

A reminder that he had a home to go back to.

#könig fanfiction #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig imagine #mw2 smut #my fics #könig x oc #könig #könig x female oc

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 7 months

Text

Yandere Male Monster Musume: Feeding The Beasts Pt. II

“Today is my day!!!!”

A collective groan came from everyone who clutched their pillows as they stuffed their faces in hopes of silencing the harpy’s cheers. Since before the sun had risen Pypi was especially vocal about it being his day. Shouting it from the top of his lungs as he triumphantly shouted into his monster roommate's ears while you groggily left Milo’s room for Pypi’s.

As per the schedule—your newest attempt at combatting their violent battles for your attention—it really was Pypi’s day for you to spend rime with. You let his early excited fluttering about your renovated home continue as you slept in for as long as you could…before Pypi came to shoot you awake.

“Come on, (Y/n)! Are you going to waste my day sleeping!?”

You groaned, pulling the covers up to hide yourself from Pypi. Nuzzling into the softness of Pypi’s bed when the harpy pulled away to pout quickly switching to a face of pure happiness.

“Unless (Y/n) would rather spend the whole day sleeping together? I’d love to do that!”

“Ah-okay! I’m up, I’m up!”

“Awww.”

Carrying out your morning routines side by side you two ended up in the living room to stand in silence. When you confirmed that it was Milo’s day he rushed off immediately with a plan for what he wanted to do, you were waiting for that same thing. But it didn’t seem it’d be the same with Pypi.

“...”

“...So uh Pypi what do you want to do?”

“Hmmmm I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?”

“Nope!”

“Well didn’t you have a plan for when we spent time together?”

He pouted as he crossed his wings, “Well I did suggest we stay in bed and–”

“WE ARE NOT DOING THAT!”

“Well…I don’t know what else we can do.”

“You don’t?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Okay then how about–”

_____________________________________________

“This–is–the—best—time—-in—my–-life!”

“It—is—right?”

Thankfully the great thing about the harpy-monster type was that being childish ran through his veins. Thus jumping on the bed like absolute hooligans works perfectly well as an activity together that didn’t include…something that will get you arrested. But like a child his attention was short.

“I’m bored now.”

“Huff~A-already but we—were having such fun!”

“It’d be more fun if we took off our clothes!”

“Aaaalright on to the next activity! Ever tried checkers?”

_______________________________________________

Board games and pieces sprawled across the floor before your exhausted for, while Pypi played solo with a game console on the couch. You only looked up after you hear the halted clacking of hooves that only spoke of Centoreo coming near.

“Master (Y/n)? Are you alright, you look exhausted although I’m certain you should have gotten to sleep in today?”

You groaned, “It never stops. His energy…and I can hardly keep his attention from doing anything other than the—’s’ word we shall not speak of.”

Centoreo nodded in understanding, flashing a tentative cerulean gaze to the harpy grossly absorbed in the game.

“Right…but it seems you’re mostly unscathed. Which is more than can be said with a certain wormlike resident.” He whispered the last part with a shudder as you stifled a chuckle.

“That is true…but I have the sneaking suspicion he’s up to something…I just don’t know–”

“What it is? Well it better not be sex!”

“S-smith?!” “Y-you!?”

The agent leaned on you obnoxiously forcing you to unsuccessdully push him off as he talked.

“Yup so what’s for dinner darling? Since you’re all tuckered out from not-having-sex are you doing take out?”

“For your information–”

Suddenly a gust of fierce winds assaulted your face and Smith’s, causing you both to look up at the perpetrator. Centoreo was reaching for the phony sword he kept at his side but even he was late to draw before the harpy.

“NOT FAIR! NOT FAIR! (Y/N) IS MINE! ALL MINE SO DON’T BOTHER US!”

Before you realized it the window had broken and you were so far off the ground the lights of your suburbia were simple flickers. Despite the talonned grip on your shoulder you felt more comfortable holding tight. You tried to speak to the one in charge of your flight but the wind whipping in your face wasn’t helping in the slightest so you swallowed your questions as Pypi flew further into the night.

_________________________________________________

“N-no this isn’t the right place! Stupid! Stupid!”

Pypi’s squealing falling upon no one but your own as you clinged to him on the peak of a sky scraper in the city. He was mad at himself. Banging the tip of his wings into his head as he fought tears.

“W-why i-is this the wrong place? I-it’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?”

You clinged to him more than aware of the dangerous situation his bird brain posed once again. Having apparently forgotten that he needed to support your weight while you had your arms wrapped around his neck. It surprised you how sturdy he was being able to withstand your own weight before he properly held you against him, cradling your bottom with his wingspan.

He sniffled into your neck,”I-i keep forgetting—to bring you to the place I meant to! And its all cause I’m such a–”

“H-hey no need to beat yourself up! You’ll remember…eventually?”

You tried to pull your best main character pick-me-up tone as you as quickly as you could bare to pat his back. That seemed to do the trick as he squeezed you tightly against his chest as he looked out at the city from behind your back.

“Y-yeah a-and at least I get to spend my day with you!”

“Y-yeah now can we please go home I-I’m sure everyone is hungry.”

“Well hopefully they can all die on Milo’s cooking while we eat out!”

“Pypi!”

“Fine. I know you didn’t bring your wallet so that plan was bogus anyway!”

“Uggh!”

You hated how much you agreed with him but at the very least you got some insight. No doubt this wasn’t the same type of fulfillment Milo was seeking but it seemed to work on nonetheless…kinda....

Next was Centoreo, but you don’t have to worry he’s guaranteed to be a breeze. More so than Pypi could ever pretend to be.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere male monster musume #yandere male monster musume x reader #yandere male monster musume #male monster musume #yandere monster x reader #yandere twst #yandere monster musume #yandere monster #yandere harpy

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constantcrisis19 · 7 months

Text

Home

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: I don't normally write smut, but things do get a little heated in this particular fic, so... enjoy the treat I guess, lol. Though, that being said, I can't say that adding smut is going to be something that I’ll do often, but on the off-chance that it does, I'll be sure to tag properly just to make sure that I don't catch anyone off guard. Thanks!

Word Count: 1,544

Main Page

You had just started on wiping the dust off of the kitchen countertops when you heard the shrill squeak of the front door opening, intentionally left unoiled to act as an alert for uninvited visitors. You and Ghost had installed a proper security system of course, but it didn’t hurt to do things the old fashioned way either.

The flat that the two of you stayed at while on leave was modest, rented mostly because there was a fire escape outside the living room window and another window had a good view of the entrance to the building.

So Ghost would often occupy himself by watching the door when he couldn’t manage to sleep, tormented by memories of things he wouldn’t speak of. But he didn’t keep pieces of his past from you out of distrust.

He refrained because, by the time he’d finished telling you about how he’d been betrayed by his CO and was tortured for months as a result, you were in tears at the pain and suffering that the love of your life had endured, despite your best attempts to be strong and keep the tears at bay as you listened.

Though, it seemed that Ghost didn’t really mind that you were crying instead of being the solid support that he deserved and could lean on while recounting something so horrible, the man simply pulling you into his arms and sitting down right there on the floor while holding you close.

He never brought it up again and you were hesitant to ask if he wanted to talk about it since you had reacted so poorly to just one of the many horrors that he had survived, especially for a soldier that was chosen to be on the most elite task forces that the British military had to offer.

In your defense, you had been on leave -in this very flat, actually- when that disaster of a conversation happened, miles away from work and allowed to be human for a few weeks. So you had made no attempt at suppressing the onslaught of emotions that had torn through you like a bullet, leaving a gaping mess of grief in its wake.

You were dragged out of your somber reminiscing when your ears picked up on the crinkle of weighted grocery bags as they were set onto the small kitchen table for two, followed by the nearly inaudible tap of Ghost’s worn black combat boots drawing closer to your turned back.

You hadn’t even realized that you’d stopped cleaning -just blankly staring down at the damp rag being strangled in your grip- until one of Ghost’s hands tentatively settled on your back, his warm touch grounding.

“Solid, love?” He asked, his pleasantly raspy voice having dropped to a low timbre that was gentle and reassuring all at once.

“Yeah, sorry. Got lost in my head for a minute.” You sighed, leaning into the contact with a slow inhale, your attempt at controlled breathing rendered useless when your exhale turned into a soft huff of laughter as soon as you felt Ghost press his scarred lips to the back of your neck in a fleeting kiss that made your chest ache with affection.

You found yourself awfully tempted to turn around and kiss that reverent mouth until neither of you could think of anything beyond finding the bed but, before you got the chance to act on that particular desire, the hand that was on your back suddenly slid down to your hip and pulled you backward as he simultaneously stepped forward in order to crowd up behind you, his body a solid wall of muscle.

"You're a menace, Simon. I never get anything done when we're on leave because you try to get into my pants every five minutes." You laughed good-naturedly, your hands reaching behind you to grip the back of his thighs, just under his deliciously round ass.

“Don’t know what you’re on about. I’m just comforting you, you’re the one copping a feel.” Ghost retorted dryly, though there was a noticeable heat to his tone now, his short stubble scratching against your skin as he nuzzled the back of your neck.

“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that, do you? I can feel your dick begging for attention, Simon.” You deadpanned, your brow raising as you leveled an unimpressed look at the cabinets directly in front of you, knowing full well that Simon would know exactly what expression was on your face despite not being able to see it.

Lord knew that he had gotten that exact same look from you enough times to have it memorized.

“Well don’t start neglecting it now.” Ghost grunted with a particularly dirty grind of his hips and you tightened the grip that you had around the back of his thigh, heat pooling in your gut as your lips parted on a silent gasp.

You could feel Ghost smile against the sensitive skin behind your ear -the smug bastard- and just for his cheeky attitude, you decided to be petty and play hard to get. You allowed Simon to do as he wished for another minute or two before turning in Simon’s grip in order to face the man, who had immediately loosened his hold the moment that you began to move.

“Get off me, you slag. I have to finish cleaning the kitchen before we can cook.” You stated as you met his questioning gaze, the man staring at you blankly for a moment as he processed your words, his eyes darkening when he finally caught onto your scheme.

“Slag? Must be rubbing off on you.” Ghost said with a low chuckle that never failed to send a bolt of pleasure down your spine and, going by the amused twinkle in Simon’s eye, he knew exactly what his voice did to you and was shamelessly using it to his advantage.

You resisted the urge to squirm under his calculating gaze, since that would mean losing this little game that the two of you were playing, as the man’s fingers teasingly brushed over the slip of skin visible where the hem of your shirt came untucked from your jeans.

“Not yet, you’re not.” You mused with a wicked grin as your hand darted down to catch his wrist before his fingers could slip up under your shirt. You traced the delicate blue lines crisscrossing under the thin, pale skin of his inner wrist with your thumb, your smile reaching shit-eating levels when Simon’s breathing visibly became more labored, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you like you were the sole object of his desire.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost murmured breathlessly, the fingers of his free hand twitching like he wanted to grab you and pin you up against the nearest flat surface, and you didn’t bother repressing the smug grin that spread across your lips as you watched every individual thought that went through his head, every sinful things that he wanted to do to you clearly advertised on his maskless face.

Simon really wasn’t as hard to read as he wanted people to believe, he was actually quite easy once the mask was off. So while Simon greatly enjoyed when you were rough with him, easily following your lead as you manhandled the man where you wanted him with a firm grip, more tender and reverent contact always had more of an effect on him.

“You love it, you insatiable bastard.” You said with a laugh, Simon leaning forward in order to rest his forehead against yours and you didn’t hesitate to curl an encouraging hand around the back of his neck, letting him have a moment to collect himself since you felt pretty bad for teasing him when you weren’t able to follow through right away.

“Yeah.” Simon admitted quietly, his tone openly affectionate as he tilted his head in order to draw you into a kiss. Words were no longer necessary since the press of his lips told you everything you already knew, the heat that had been bubbling up between the two of you easing as the intense bout of lust that came from your mutual flirting transitioned into something softer, slower.

You were the first to break the kiss when the lack of oxygen made your lungs burn, though you didn’t go far, choosing to instead linger in his personal space. Your nose brushed against his as you basked in the euphoria that came with being with Simon, each of your breaths mingling with his in the small space between the two of you, creating a sort of peaceful bubble where only the two of you existed.

“Didn’t you have some pressing matter to attend to?” Simon’s voice pierced through the quiet and you startled, flinching a bit as you sobered from the trance you had been in, before the words registered and you leaned away in order to scowl at your grinning husband.

“Very funny, Simon.” You said with a fond roll of your eyes, giving his solid chest a friendly pat before finally prying yourself out of his grasp, turning on your heel and making your way back to the kitchen in order to finish what you’d been doing before you got distracted.

Home

A place where I can go

To take this off my shoulders

Someone take me home

Home - Bebe Rexha, Machine Gun Kelly, and X Ambassadors

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mw 2022 #reader insert #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #married y/n #reader is in the 141 #childhood friends #friends to lovers #military leave #domestic fluff #banter #light smut

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