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cheshirebitch · 2 months

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Alastor x Reader

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕖 (oneshot)

I brushed the flour off my hands and onto my apron when the bell rang. Dark brown eyes met mine as I gazed at who my newest customer could be. I was merely in my 20s and had my own business going on here. I recognized the male quickly as one of my best friends from town.

“Alastor! What brings you in here today?” My smile matched his. I swear he is always smiling unless it was just us in private sometimes. I walked around the counter and ditched my apron there. He had his hands behind his back as I approached him.

“Hello, dear! Just stopping by for a quick meal before my show!” The clock above the door read to be 5:30PM. Wow, time really flies by nowadays. My smile broadened as I clasped my hands together.

“Always a pleasure to have you stop by! I have your favorite already almost done! I was planning on bringing it over when I closed up.” He smiled wider and gracefully ditched his coat on the rack, turning my open sign off, and locking the door for me. My footsteps quietly echoed down the basement steps as I entered the room dedicated to Alastor. Carefully putting on my rain boots, bloody apron, and my rubber gloves. My hair was already pulled out of my face messily.

Alastor’s jazzy music started playing upstairs as he started helping finish my closing duties, our weekly ritual turning almost daily nowadays. As I finished making his meal, I thought of how close Alastor and I have become after I found out his secret. It was truly so romantic how it happened even though he was worried I wouldn’t understand his… hobby and diet.

I was locking up my just opened bakery, excited that it was very successful so far. There was a strange man across the street watching me. I brushed it off slightly, just noting to hussle home faster. Alastor’s radio station was down the street from me along with Mimzy’s place a couple more blocks further. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if I hurried in to wait for this creepy man to leave. But, along the walk, I heard his footsteps get heavier and closer. I grabbed my heel and whipped around, talking loud since I was outside of the radio station now.

“Leave me be or face my wrath!” I held the heel, ready to bash his face in if need be. The man started laughing, towering over me. My heart was pounding and my hands shaking. I loved the thrill but not like this.

“A pretty gal like you shouldn’t walk home alone then, yeah?” He wasn’t leaving room for an option here. My back pressed against the wall. I knew I would lose ultimately, even if I played dirty.

“Good thing she wasn’t.” Before I could peer around the creep, I saw blood dripping from his mouth as he fell over. I watched his body collapse onto the ground with a heavy thud, then the stab wound on his back became clear. My eyes flashed to who my savor, or maybe new threat, stood before me.

“Are you alright, dear?” My eyes looked into familiar brown eyes. Alastor, who I knew but wasn’t awfully close to, stood in front of me. He was carefully cleaning his knife but watching me. I wasn’t scared of him at all, if anything, his presence made me relax. I breathed out, not realizing I was holding it this whole time.

“Oh, Alastor. Thank you!” My eyes looked back down and back up at him, then it clicked. He was the unknown killer that started as of late.

“What a disgusting fellow. I am truly sorry for this mess, (Y/n). You were never supposed to become involved at all. Please do forgive me, dear.”

“What ever for? He had it coming, yes? How bout I help you out.” I smiled up at Alastor, pointing towards my shop. He seemed confused and uncertain before leaning against the wall, pinning me between him and the cold brick against my back. He leaned down as his arm rested above my head and the other beside my head. He had a crazed look in his eyes, alongside a crazed smile. Oh good heavens did it cause my heart to beat fast, I could feel my eyes glazing over how attractive this was. My hand absentmindedly wiped the blood off his cheek as he spoke.

“I take a smart lady, such as yourself, has put it together by now. I can’t have a witness or it’ll ruin this whole thing I have going on here.” He stopped, registering my hand wiping the blood from his face, his eyes moved to watch my hand, unmoving. Those dark brown eyes slowly drifted back over to look at my face before slyly whispering.

“You’re just as disturbed as me, aren’t you my dear?”

I shut the door to the basement, locking it. All the dishes were done in the kitchen, everything put away. Along with the dishes, the floors were swept and the counters tidy. What a lovely man to have around. I was truly a lucky gal for having such a gentleman make sure I always got home safe and help me out here. I cannot lie, I was falling deeper and deeper with his charm. I pushed the door open to the dining area, placing Alastor’s special jambalaya in front of him. A set of dark eyes following my every move with such a beautiful smile on his face. Our eyes meet and stare as I take my seat across from him. Crossing my legs, I took a bite of some of the jambalaya as he took a bite of his own. It was a peaceful meal we would share. Though, it didn’t slip my mind how he has started stopping in more often lately. Not that I minded at all, but I was worried I would fall deeper with his charm.

“Alastor?” He swallowed his bite, looking up at me.

“Before you begin, I just wanted to thank you for this delicious meal my dear!” I smiled bashfully, loving his compliments. It took time to learn what went best with human meat and what Alastor likes best.

“Why, thank you!” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned towards me, interest dancing in his eyes.

“Your question, sweetheart?”

“Oh, yes! What has brought you around more often? Not that I mind your company, quite the opposite really.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My fingers covering my lips as I process what exactly I just said. Alastor’s smile widened before his hands moved to hold my own.

“Oh, doll. I just enjoy your company so much, I can’t help but catch myself wandering into your fine establishment!” He kissed the back of my hand, maintaining eye contact with me. My smile widened with the red across my face. He really was quite charming.

“Oh, Alastor. You are always quite the charmer.” We held each other’s hands gently, staring into each other’s eyes. I felt myself leaning over the table, one of his hands moving to hold my face softly. He was leaning in too, closing his eyes as he was mere inches away from my face. My hands held onto his hand as I pulled the rest of the way in, connecting our lips gracefully. The kiss was more blissful than anything I have ever imagined, but was sadly cut short when there was banging on the shop’s doors. We both jumped away from our kiss, looking at the door. Through the window curtains, I caught a glimpse of policemen.

“You have to leave, my love.” Pushing him towards the secret exit in the back. He looked at me with a strained smile. The banging got more aggressive as the policemen began their threats to enter. Alastor whispered, “Come with me, please.”

“I wish I could, my love. We both know they will catch us if we can’t have a distraction.” I held his hands before placing a quick kiss, pushing him gently.

“Go, now.” The policemen started breaking the door down as Alastor quickly scampered out back. He turned around only to see the policemen aim their weapons at myself. I was pushing the policemen back and fighting them, trying to stab them. I was only successful in my murder attempts on the lead detective before Alastor watched myself be shot . He waited for the other two officers to be distracted before he took my butcher knife and sliced both their throats efficiently. For good measures I saw him hack at their throats till their heads were chopped off.

There was pain in my stomach from where I was shot, I was holding over the gunshot wound. Blood trickled out and pooled below my body, but I was able to watch Alastor chop them ruthlessly. He had lost his smile momentarily and had tears running from his eyes as he rushed to my side, covered in blood. He gently held my face, wiping my own tears off my face desperately. I coughed blood before quickly ordering what he needs to save himself.

“You need to burn this whole place down, Al. Leave our bodies in it and run away.” His eyes flickered between my own before he brushed the hair out of my face. I knew he wasn’t going to leave my side. My bloody and shaky hands held his cheek before I whispered, “I love you, Alastor. But, you need to do as I say if you wish to stay a free man. Please.”

“I will find you, my dear. In every lifetime, I will find you. I love you, (Y/n).” As he said those words, the world around me started to melt around me. I felt my soul fall from my body and plummet downwards, falling. It looked like I was falling through the Earth’s ground, colliding with another ground that was surrounded by dark colors. I was in what I assumed to be Hell.

(As always, charcters belong to the respective owners and the story belongs to me! I hope you enjoy this tiny dabble I got inspired by Insane by Black Gryph0n , Baasik. Hope you enjoy it :)!)

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #xreader #oneshot

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undiscovered-horizon · 6 months

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"Everywhere is good but home is..." - Mihawk x Reader

@thetempleofthemasaigoddess wondered why Mihawk doesn't quite get along with his mother-in-law and who am I to keep such secrets to myself?

SUMMARY: Mihawk is not exactly fond of his in-laws. Nevertheless, he compliantly tags along whenever you pay your parents a visit. If it makes you happy, he's willing to bite his tongue. For a day, at least.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.6k

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Imagine, if you will, an angry boar. A large, stout boar with birse as dark as the night sky. As boars do, it will gore with its tusks to let out the frustration and get rid of whatever it was that made the animal seethe. Now, if you take away its tusks, what can it do? Angrily dig for truffles?

Or maybe stand beside you, a scowl on his face and a begrudging “I am fine” every time you ask about the bitter expression?

Mihawk doesn’t like visiting your parents. It’s the sickeningly sweet familial atmosphere that suffocates him. Don’t misunderstand - he’s fond of the thought of having a family with you but the aura of your childhood home is a little too… overwhelming for him. A little too picture-perfect. But being the man he is, Mihawk has never outright talked about his dislike because he’s aware of how much that would hurt you. Still, you know your husband a little too well to disregard his sighs and frowns. This piece of secret knowledge always makes you love him more - he’s willing to suffer for a day or two just to make you happy. If it’s not love, what else could it be?

The farmhouse looks different than it did last year when you visited: the roof tiles have been changed, the outside of the building has been repainted and even some of the fence surrounding the land is new. Clearly, your parents have been busy with their retirement.

Despite the irate expression on his face, Mihawk silently overtakes you and opens the shabby wicket gate to let you enter first. He gives you a questioning look when you suddenly stop.

“It’s going to be fine, Mihawk,” you reassure him.

“So you’ve been saying, darling.”

Comforting warmth spreads inside his chest as you smile at him and kiss his cheek. He turns his head, hoping to catch your lips but you’re already on your way to the older man raking leaves in the distance. Mihawk clenches his jaw and lets out an exasperated sigh. With a loud bang, he closes the gate behind him. He follows you in slow steps, naively putting off the fateful moment of meeting your family.

Walking down the path leading to the farmhouse and the fields behind it, Mihawk looks around the desolate landscape. It’s quaint, he thinks to himself. Tall trees sway on the chilly, autumn wind. Right above their peaks, although far away, are mountains with their tops covered in snow. Uncut grass brushes against his clothes. A flock of cranes flies high in the sky, disappearing and reappearing as they fly through grey clouds. Their key is directed south, towards warmth that will shield them from winter snow. The area is a bit too colourful and bright for his liking but with a nice “please” from you, Mihawk could see himself settling down in a place like this.

Dracule just comes into earshot and has the displeasure of hearing your father yelling:

“Pumpkin!” The older man’s voice is filled with excitement. He lets go of the rake, letting it fall on the ground. Despite his age and clear exhaustion from the work, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you almost to death. “Honey, come out!” he shouts towards the farmhouse. “It’s Pumpkin!”

Mihawk almost can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. You’re a grown woman, married at that, and they still call you by a nickname they had come up with while you were still in diapers. ‘When I asked where children came from, they told me that they found me between pumpkins in their field,’ you once explained to him.

The door to the building flies open. Soon enough, your mother is running to you. Her greying hair is braided into a plait. She’s wearing an apron with traditional patterns hand-stitched into it. Half of the motif had been done by a skilled hand, stitched with precision and perfection. The other part, however, is a lot more crooked and amateurish, probably done by a child’s hand. Your hand.

Tears glisten in your mother's eyes. Despite her older age, there’s vigour and youth inside those irises - a certain love for life that you’ve taken after her. She quickly wipes her hands on the apron and hugs you.

“Oh, Pumpkin!” A stray tear leaves her eye. “I haven’t seen you in ages! You could have said you’re visiting.”

“You’ve always loved surprises, mum.”

She lets go of you and redirects her attention to Mihawk. Her face lights up as though he’s her own son, beaming with love and pride. To his absolute horror, your mother puts her hands on the sides of his face. He almost pulls away to avoid the unwanted affections.

“Sweetie, you look handsome as ever!” she exclaims. Her expression falls as she looks him up and down. “But you’re a bit thin, aren’t you? And that open shirt, tsk. Winter is coming, sweetheart, you’ll catch pneumonia if you don’t cover up.”

“Delighted to see you again, ma’am,” Mihawk lies through his teeth. To some degree, you’re impressed with how honest he sounds.

"Oh, sweetheart, I told you to just call me mum!” She laughs. “We're family now."

You can see the relief in Mihawk’s eyes as your mother lets go of him. Some part of you wants to burst with laughter as you recall countless moments when you’re the one cradling his face and Dracule is more than overjoyed with the tender touch. It feels like there’s something beyond special about you, that he welcomes such intimate things. Although, truth be told, when it’s your hands on his face, you usually lean in to kiss him and that’s definitely not something he wants to think about while standing in front of your mother.

“He’s a grown man, honey.” Your father nags at his wife. He waves his hand in a dismissing manner. “Leave him be.” Mihawk’s terror returns when a heavy hand reaches for his shoulder. “Come, son, you’ll chop some wood for the night. I’m too old for this. The last time I tried chopping firewood, I got sciatica.”

“Pleased to help,” Dracule drones his words. He gives you a glance like a silent plead ‘Look what I do for you’. Then, he follows your father further into the garden.

You feel your mother put her arm around your shoulder. “Boys are off to have fun and we have a dinner to make.”

Something inside you stirs with excitement - cooking and baking used to be your bonding activities with your mum. Since you’ve married Mihawk, you’re not allowed to do any housework. Everything is taken care of by servants. You find that you’ve grown to miss the rhythm of mundane life, although it would be a lie if you said that you dislike the life you have with Mihawk. It’s just… different.

The sound of pots, pans and knives hitting the cutting boards is like a symphony to your ears. An aria to your childhood. If you closed your eyes, you could almost see the world as it used to be, your eyes right below the level of the countertops, always standing on a stool to help your mother.

But the thoughts of your younger years dissipate as you stare out of the kitchen window. You have the perfect view of your husband chopping firewood with your father raking leaves in the back. Mihawk’s skin glistens in the afternoon, autumn sun. There’s not a bead of sweat on his torso. He appears completely relaxed as he swings the axe with one hand. Some logs are already cracked or particularly dry and those he rips apart with his bare hands. Those same hands that tear pieces of wood into matches have caressed your skin with almost fearful softness; the arms that bring destruction have tirelessly shielded you from the dangers of the world.

Your dad looks over his shoulder at the pile of firewood with a nod of awe. If Mihawk keeps up his tempo, he’ll prepare enough fuel for the next week.

“You remind me of your dad and me when we were younger.” Your mother’s face shakes you awake from your thoughts. Suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be helping her, you look down at the awfully chopped carrots. At least you didn’t cut off your finger. “Always stealing glances as though we weren’t already married.”

A sigh of yearning leaves your lips. What did you do in your past life to deserve a man like him?

“Dad still looks at you in an uncomfortably intense way,” you answer, a smile on your lips.

Your mother’s laughter brightens up the small, crowded kitchen. It’s not hard to correctly guess what your dad saw in her that made him want to spend his life with that woman. “He does the same when you’re not looking,” she says while vaguely pointing at Mihawk.

Her words make you blush. A deep shade of red covers your cheeks, making your whole face hot to the touch. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you with sympathy. “I saw it the day you introduced him to us. And each time you come over, he seems to be a little worse in his affliction, staring at you like you’re the one who hung stars in the sky. It made your grandma remind her of grandad so much, that she cried at your wedding.”

Listening to her, your longing gaze returns to Mihawk who appears oblivious to your undivided interest in him. “Mum, does it ever get boring?” you ask without looking away. “The sense of calm when you’re around him. Like everything could be ruined but it’s fine because he’s there.”

“It’s the only thing in the world that never gets tiring.” A flustered, juvenile smile decorates her face. Even with wrinkles and greying hair, she looks barely older than you at the moment, reliving the flame of love inside her that has never dwindled. “Now, let’s finish with the sentiments and stuff the duck, eh?”

Mihawk is reaching for another log when something makes him momentarily freeze. There, in front of the stump he’s been chopping wood on, sits a dog. It’s clearly a mutt, each feature taken from a different breed. The fur is an amalgamation of markings in different colours: orange, grey, white and black. As the dog notices Mihawk’s interest, it gets up, restlessly stomping in place or rather hopping as the pet is missing one of its hind legs.

“Gulliver,” Dracule recalls the name of the mutt you’ve told him so much about. Your first and only friend growing up in the countryside.

The name is taken as an invite and so the dog places a drool-covered, chewed-out ball next to the piece of firewood. The pet sits again, tail wagging as fast as it can.

For a moment, Mihawk is torn. He wants the dog to leave him be but that would mean he has to put his hand on the slimy toy. Then again, the pet is sure to continue disturbing him now that he has acknowledged its existence.

Cringing at the wet and warm sensation of the ball, Dracule picks it up, only furthering Gulliver’s excitement.

"This means nothing," he drones his words and throws the toy so far it almost disappears from sight. The dog, overjoyed, runs after the ball.

Considering that your dad’s throw has gotten weaker with age, Mihawk might have dug his own grave with the distance he made the ball fly. Gulliver will probably want another run. Or ten.

For a moment, Mihawk goes back to the fantasy of settling down with you in a mountainous wonderland. Maybe you could have a dog too? Not a mutt but a hunting hound? They look very noble.

But he shakes those thoughts away and continues chopping wood.

The dinner went well. Homemade food, family you haven’t seen in a year, the cosy and sentimental atmosphere of your childhood home… And Mihawk didn’t look as miserable as he probably felt. Although you’re enjoying this little family reunion, you seize the opportunity for solitude when it arises:

Your parents go to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes, plate the dessert and brew some tea. Tugging on Mihawk’s arm, you pull him outside the house.

The old flooring of the porch creaks under your weight. A bright, melodic tune is carried by the wind as it brushes against the chimes hanging under the roof. The sun has recently set and the sky is still in a lovely, indigo shade. Birds croak in the distance, announcing nightfall.

His warm hand rests on your lower back. The touch makes you momentarily take a deep, relaxing breath. Your thoughts become both orderly and fuzzy as though Mihawk’s presence turned all of your wandering, useless ideas into static you can easily ignore. How can a person have so much control over you?

Mihawk is towering over you. He tilts his head downwards to look at you. Something about his looming aura makes you feel not only protected but also well-cared-for, as though you could give yourself up to him completely and you’d still live like a queen in a castle.

“If you keep frowning, your face will stay like that,” you say to him.

Mihawk’s expression relaxes at the mere mention of his visibly bitter mood. Or maybe it softens because he’s looking at you. “I was under the impression that you’re rather fond of my face.”

“And you’d be correct. But I do have to say that seeing you tear wood apart was much better.”

You lean closer to him as you put your arms around his neck. He welcomes the gesture, allowing his hands to travel an inch or two downwards, a little too low for when one is in the vicinity of others. Especially someone’s parents.

“So my wife likes to see me do manual labour,” he states, his warm breath brushing against your cold cheeks. There’s no surprise in his voice and there shouldn’t be. He’s noticed the way you look at him when he wields a sword and Mihawk would be an awful liar if he said he doesn’t enjoy those glances.

“I like seeing you, full stop. Chopping wood is just a nice variation to the scenario. Strong arms and all that.”

The said arms pull you by your hips into a kiss. Although he’s spent only a day in this part of the region, he already smells like fresh mountain air and pine needles. Mihawk groans, feeling the curves of your body against his. He will never get enough of this. Enough of you.

“Tea is served!”

Your mother’s exclamation makes you pull away from Mihawk. He instinctively chases after your lips before letting out an annoyed sigh. A chuckle rumbles in your chest. Dracule rolls his eyes but lets you thread your fingers with his and pull him back inside the farmhouse. There, you interrupt an interesting conversation:

“Darling, when’s the cake tasting again?” your father asks while flipping through the calendar, a pencil in his hand.

“On the 25th, honey,” she answers. The dining room is immediately filled with the aroma of bergamot as your mother pours the tea. “At 6 in the afternoon.”

“Cake tasting?” you repeat in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Our golden wedding, of course!” the older woman beams with joy. “We’ve yet to send out the invitations, though, so don’t tell anyone. Especially your aunt. Gods know she runs her mouth like it’s a marathon.”

As though you’re thinking the same thing, Mihawk and you glance at each other. The miserable, irate expression in his eyes elicits a burst of bright laughter from you. He just can’t catch a break, can he?

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1K notes · View notes

ilylovelyz · 9 months

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housewife! reader w traditional! manly! ushijima makes my knees weak omg. the thought of this man training all day to come home to his little housewife and a home cooked meal!! he doesn’t care that you aren’t done setting the table he’s gonna bend you over it anyways. he’s just so in love w you!

sjdjjwje

this is kinda dark but the thought of him hiding ur birth control pills or replacing them with the sugar pills so he can knock you up oh my daysss like what’s the point of letting him fill your womb if he can’t put a baby in there :(

⍣ ೋ Million Dollar Man

˚ · . dilf!ushijima x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ dubious consent of impreg (?), birth control sabotage, traditional!husband ushijima, stay at home/housewife!reader, kitchen sex (yummy), misogyny (?), breeding, degradation + humiliation, size comparison, size kink, big dick toshi, dacryphilia, cervix fucking, just a whole lotta breeding <3, mentions of pregnancy dur

࣪𓏲ּ i was originally gonna work on an angsty fic for hinata but this was calling me </3 ushijima is so lana del rey

you're screwed up and brilliant you look like a million dollar man

"i'm home." he calmly says, careful to not close the door so noisy.

he takes off his shoes like normal, changing into his house slippers shortly after. he's inhaling eagerly, the scent of well-cooked rice filling his senses.

he walks to the kitchen, his slipper clad feet softly pattering against the natural wood that is his traditional house's flooring. he passes by the doorway that connects to the living room, glancing in and stealing a look that is his first born daughter napping on the floor next to his also sleeping second daughter.

he makes a mental note to not be so loud as they are napping, he knows better than to disturb them.

"welcome home, wakatoshi." you say with that warm smile of yours, eyes crinkling up at the sight of your husband. he softly smiles at you in return, grunting softly in response.

his eyes look over to the stove, a large pot with a cover surely boiling, and then to the rice cooker; which is what he assumes is full of already well-done rice.

he looks back at you curiously, he can only guess what you're making, he doesn't cook often, thats your job as a housewife.

"i'm makin' hayashi rice, you're favorite."

his cheeks can only tingle with shyness, to anyone he might just look ungrateful or monotonous, but it's far from that.

he adores you.

"thank you," he says, taking a few steps towards you until his chest is a few inches away from your face.

he towers over you, you have a tiny frame compared to his almost gigantic one. some have even questioned the two of you about it, stealing a couple of snide jokes here and there.

he can't lie and say that he doesn't find it "interesting." he brings a hand suddenly up to your head, patting your hair lightly. you blush lightly at his affection, leaning into his gentle touches.

he doesn't understand why you still get so shy around him, but he doesn't mind it. he likes that you're so humble and polite, even when it comes to your own husband that you've known since the young age of 17. you're 33 now.

"hm," he hums lightly, leaning down to press a kiss onto your forehead. he places a few kisses on your forehead, temple and nose before he's taking your chin in-between his fingers and tilting your head upwards so he can kiss you on your lips.

it still surprises you, how he can take your breath away from one kiss. as his hands wrap around your upper back to bring you closer to him, you can only think back to the time when the two of you were younger and less experienced, him having less experience than you, so you had to lead him with the expertise you had.

it was cute then, the way he was the one who trembled under your touch, looking at you curiously for the courtesy to touch you.

oh, how time flies. now the two of you own a home together, and have two children together, two beautiful girls, the youngest still a little less than a year old.

while ushijima has always been so stoic and known for it, he, over the many years that have passed, has become twice the man he was those years ago.

it almost flusters you, and you can't help but look back on those younger days with a bittersweet smile, remembering the little boy who would ask to hold your hand.

you fluster at the way his strong hands are tearing your clothes off boldly in the middle of the kitchen, his mouth breathing in your sweet gasps for air as he kisses you passionately.

he cups the side of your face, holding your face still as he all but explores your mouth with his own tongue. you tremble within his hold, your ankles almost giving in weakly just because of a simple kiss.

he notices, and with a squeal, he's lifting you up easily into his arms, walking over to the dinner table, using one of his arms to move aside the dishes you precariously chose for that night. dinner can wait, you guess.

he lays you over the cold wooden table, his hands caressing and rubbing your bare skin. you look beautiful underneath him, eyes already glazed over with tears, mouth red and plush. your neck has fading love bruises and bites, he takes note of it to make sure to go over them once more later.

his hand comes up to fondle your breast, his other running down your torso and down to your back thigh. you mindlessly softly moan at his touches, it always feels good to be touched by him.

but he shushes you, leaning downwards to rest his forehead against yours. "you'll have to be quiet, you don't wanna wake up the kids, don't you?" he whispers softly, in contrast, his fingers are already gliding themselves over your folds, dipping a finger into your already dripping cunt.

you gasp at his lewd actions, an eyebrow raising at his words. "d-don't you think i-it's a bit unfair to say that and then.." you meekly say, trailing off when he adds in another finger, curling them inside and pressing against your sensitive walls.

"..and then what?" he teases, punctuating his sentence by pressing his finger-pads against that sweet spot. your body jolts with pleasure, a hand of yours coming up to clamp over your mouth to muffle your pathetic moans.

"y-you're mean," you mumble out, eyes stinging with shy tears. it has your eyes widening when he's visibly smirking at your words, pupils dilated and dark with pure lust.

"you're so naughty, don't you feel ashamed, as a mother, to be so wet like this on the diner table of all places? isn't this where your kids eat?" he boldly says, adding in a third finger as to worsen his seeming punishment. bastard.

"t-this isn't—it's not–you're such a bastard..!" you stutter out, your free hand coming up to punch lightly against his chest. he lightly chuckles at your words before he returns to his menacing actions.

"why don't you cum on my fingers like this, mama? don't be so loud, you'll wake your dear kids." he says, standing up straight to watch the way your body trembles and jolts with pleasure at his words. like command, despite your own pleas and mewls of disapproval, you're cumming on his fingers like a whore, on his word.

thats how it should be.

you're panting on against the dinner table, hiding your face into the crook of your elbow. you're quickly setting your attention back on him when he calls out your name, opening your mouth submissively when he presses his the same fingers that are covered in your own cum against your lips, feverly sucking up your own juices from his fingers.

you blush once more when he's lightly scoffing at your actions, his free hand coming up to rush his pants and boxers off, freeing his cock and lining himself up to your cunt. "don't be loud, mama," you gasp at his words, his fat tip popping into the tight confines of your pussy walls.

his pace is already ruthless, almost taunting you as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, his cock snugly fitting against your cervix with every thrust. you try your best not to be so loud, but it's a hard task to do, especially when he's purposely abusing all of your weak spots.

his eyes narrow at your state underneath him, grunting against the skin of your calf when he sees a tear run down your cheek. "crying? does it feel good?" he asks menacingly, his free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together degradingly, forcing you to pout within his grip.

it only makes you cry harder at his mean gestures, he never fails to make you feel so little, so small. all count of restrain is lost as you shamelessly moan and cry out at his unrelentingly pounding, cheeks burning greatly as you give into his clear humiliation.

he's almost uncharacteristically grinning at your defeat, bending your leg inwards to your chest, almost bending you in half. you grip onto his forearm for purchase when you're unexpectedly cumming once more, vision going white when he doesn't even slow down.

his right hand comes down to squeeze at your doughy breast, noticing that it's lacking the milk you used to have a few months ago. no, that won't do.

"'gonna cum inside." he declares, his other hand coming down to lift the leg that is dangling off the table so as you get you into the perfect mating press. your eyes are widening bewilderedly at his words, a little shocked.

"b-but i'm not on birth control," you mutter out, but from the way he doesn't falter in his thrusts, it seems he already knows. yeah, of course he knows, he threw them away awhile ago. you don't need those silly pills anymore, you're his wife, your duty is to stay at home, raise his kids, and have as many kids as he pleases.

"t-toshi, utako is not even a year old–ah," you cry out, only to be silenced when ushijima is shoving his tongue back down your throat.

"you're my wife, don't you want my babies?" he asks, stilling his hips, his cock pulled out to the tip. he stares at you expectantly.

you're thinking for a few seconds, he doesn't assume anything in particular except of his cock. you're braindead like that, having nothing but a mommy brain after the last few times he's fucked you so well and good that he got you knocked up.

"..want toshi's babies.." you sob, throwing your head back when you're once again coming around his cock once he continued his thrusts at your words once more, your pussy sloshing lewdly with every movement.

yes, of course you want his babies. that's what you're made for. that's what your lovely existence is for, to cook him a good dinner and then spread your legs for him as dessert. whats a good woman if she doesn't submit to her husband?

he's grateful that you're a good woman, one that is so intelligent yet submissive to him. one that is letting him stuff you fill of his thick seed, letting her hard-working husband fill her yet again full with their third child.

it's just this that you're expected to give, you don't have to do much aside from look after the house and the children you produce, you can do whatever you want with the free time you have left, whether it's the beautiful paintings you create, or the horrendous amount of shopping you do with his credit card.

"i love you," he whispers softly against your ear, noting from the way your chest is rising slowly means that you passed out. dinner still hasn't been served, but thats okay. you've probably had a long day too.

౨ৎ please leave a like and repost with tags

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyū!!#haikyu smut #haikyuu breeding #haikyuu pregnant #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader smut #⨳ family dream #⨳ breeding #⨳ big dick

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kingcrow01 · 4 months

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DC x Marvel Fic Recs

@jas-per11 @letthedeadghostrest

Hello! I saw your post, and I've been meaning to rec some DC x Marvel fics anyways, so I'll do that here. I don't know what you've read, so I'll start with

Peter Parker / DC Series:

The Dark Matter Multiverse Series by @mysterycyclone

Dark Matter is the blueprint for most Peter Parker / DC fics, and it's also fucking fantastic. If you're reading a crossover and don't understand why, without explanation, Peter is talking to ghosts? Why he by default ends up living in a firehouse? Read Dark Matter.

Spider and Bat Friends Series by @emmacortana

So far, 12 well written and hilarious works from my all-time favorite author, Miss emmacortana. This, coming from someone with over 1,500 bookmarks. She's that good.

Bitsy and The Bats Series Series by @wibbwoby

Haven't read this one in a while, so I don't have much to say, but Rated T for Traumatized is an absolute classic.

Pizzaverse Series by Irisen

A heavier read, wherein Peter tries to keep his job, make rent, and has a lot of unfortunate run-ins with Gotham's rogues.

Peter & The BatBoys (Doctor AU) Series by @thepoppypress

Peter is the Wayne family's doctor. He has a... chaotic time. I've only read Part 1, but I am still including this here because it's a series.

Peter Parker needs a hug (From the BatFamily) Series by @true-blue-fool

Shorter fics about Peter bonding with the Batfamily. Part 3 is especially cute.

Spider and Bats Series by @superklutzkent

Peter Parker whump, featuring the Batfam. All of the whump.

Let's take a break and look at some DC x Marvel fics that DON'T feature Peter:

Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place Series by RavenclawAngel

After Civil War, Steve gets exiled to DCs earth and builds a new team.

from the nucleus flight Series by @blackkatmagic

Khonshu whisks (Comic) Moon Knight away to DC. Very well written and passionate. If it's not your thing, don't let the Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector tag dissuade you from reading; since it's unfinished, the ship hasn't happened yet, and it's too good of a fic to miss out on.

The Devil's in Gotham (Remastered) by @prince-link13

Matt Murdock moves to Gotham and befriends Jason Todd, his neighbor. Bruce Wayne/Matt Murdock

Marvel/DC Crossovers Series by @bamboozled-and-alone

What it says on the tin. My favorite, part 2, is Matt Murdock taking care of Damian Wayne.

Echolocation Series by Firecat23

Matt Murdock and the bats; though, part 6 does have Team Red, meaning Peter.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming:

Peter Parker slash fics:

Cassandra Cain/Peter Parker

Along Came a Spider Series by @rags-n-bones

Quiet Respite by @faeriekit

I'm not too far in this one yet, but it's Faeriekit, so it's bound to be good.

Peter Parker/Tim Drake, affectionately called redspider

a shining spider web by Selador

Needling by LaughingFreak

How dimension travel can lead to love. Series by Psychic_Queen05

My current Favorite Ongoing Peter Parker / DC Crossovers:

The Ones Burnt by This_is_lovin

After the events of No Way Home, Dr. Strange's magic sends Peter to Gotham. He wakes up in another boy's body, and has to deal with the consequences. Part one just ended with a bang, you all should be there for part two, it's gonna be awesome.

Arachnomaly by @songue85

The (Comic) Amazing Spider-Man, being neighborly in Gotham. Plus some sick art from the author.

time flies by (bye) by WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN

Two difficult years after No Way Home, Peter ends up in Gotham, but with a whole lot of introspection. One chapter left; you better be there.

All of the rest, that didn't fit in the prior categories:

Unforeseen Consequences by @mysterycyclone

Gotta Get to Rock Bottom! by @emmacortana

Read the initial notes first.

Set Naked on Your Kingdom by sassydandelion

Peter's Gotham Debut by BlankGeode, Leeavy

This Was Home by @emmacortana

The Peter Parker Theory by nicfics

and even though we are strange and exquisitely scarred by Wingfeather6913

What happens in New York by @violent138

A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back) by Vivia_wants_boba

Ignorance is Death by No_idea_what_Im_doing_lmaooo

One Dead Spider by Miellonek

If you do check out any of these fics, always leave a comment. Authors love those, it’s like catnip to them.

#dc #marvel #dc x marvel #fic rec #spiderman #spider man #peter parker #ao3

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melminli · 3 months

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Devil's Advocate II

pairing: hazbin hotel x fem. reader

summery - after you died, you didn't really find it surprising to end up in hell. though, what you did find quiet amusing was that your life down here sucked just a bit less than the one before.

word count: 1.5k

contains: cursing, strong language, sinner reader, violence, religious themes (obviously), sexual themes, demon horniness

part I

"So...ya and that pretty lady over there seemed to be pretty tight, if ya know what I mean." Angel Dust asked curiously, ready to hear some tea. He grinned as he tilted his head to the side flirtatiously. "She some ex of yours, or somethin' like that?"

Husker just looked at him with his usual grim look while he was cleaning a few glasses. Then his gaze briefly wandered away to your figure, who was forced to deal with the Radio Demon and the Princess of Hell. Yeah, you haven't really been successful in getting out of this hotel yet.

"None of your business." He said with his monotone voice and let Angel hang his head in disappointment. "...I'm far too sober for this shit."

A groan could be heard. "Oh, come on, ya grumpy cat! Don't leave me high and dry, I know there's some good story to be heard!"

Before Husker could leave him hanging one more time, a red demon manifested next to them, much to their surprise. "I would also like to hear this good story, if you wouldn't mind sharing it with us, my good friend!" Alastor expressed his interest and looked menacingly at the barkeeper for a few seconds to make it clear that he did not have the privilege of turning his request down.

Fuck you, Larry. This is all your fault. "...we go back a long way." He reluctantly shared the information. "She was obsessed with money back then too, so I saw her in the same casino as me sometimes. Though, she died a long time before me, so I've only really known her since I went to hell." He summarized as briefly as possible.

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" He asked, a little disappointed, even though he hadn't expected the man in front of him to be a good storyteller. "How did she die?"

Cat eyes looked a little nervously at the two people in front of him, while he didn't make a sound. How unfortunate, Alastor thought to himself, and his sharp teeth showed as he understood the situation. "Looks like Husker isn't allowed to tell us this information. That's very interesting! Very interested indeed..." He laughed, and his creepy gaze shifted briefly to your figure. "Seems like we need to find out directly from the source."

The once Overlord looked over at Angel Dust with slight concern and saw how the spiders' eyes were also glancing towards your form. It wasn't that he didn't trust you, but demons as reckless as him fell into your trap like flies to a web. Besides, it wasn't like he was on your best side right now. "I'd be careful." He said to the crowd even though he didn't give a rat's ass about Alastor. "She's not known for making packs with demons left and right for nothing, and I can assure you there's not the slightest chance of escaping from her contracts once you're in it." He said and added. "That's the price for holding up her end of the deal without any sneaky tricks, I suppose."

Well, that sounded unusual. After all, it was normal that one Demon after another stabbed the other in the back, there was no such thing as trusting the other person's word. But maybe that was why you were so popular. "Calm down, I'm not gonna sell my soul to her." Angel laughed. I couldn't even if I wanted to.

Husker placed another clean glass on the counter. "It doesn't have to be your soul. She'll find something she wants from you, and she's good with her mouth, so you'll give it to her. They all do in the end." He said and reached for a bottle of whiskey, ignoring the two incredulous looks he received. He took a sip and was initially confused as to what was going on with the two until he realized what he had said and choked on his drink. "Words! I meant to say words, damn it." He corrected himself.

Alastor didn't blink for a few seconds, and Angel, on the other side, just laughed amusedly. Maybe he wasn't so wrong with his first guess, after all. "Of course ya were."

"Well, thank you for your kind hospitality, but I'm afraid that I'll be taking my leave now." You spoke to the two girls. As much as Charlie regretted it, she couldn't convince you to spend a few nights at the Hazbin Hotel. Apart from the fact that she would have had a new guest, it might have enhanced the hotel's reputation if someone as renowned as you had visited. Though, unfortunately that didn't work out.

I've messed up again. Charlie tried not to look too depressed, even though she really was an open book. "Oh, all right. Thanks for listening to me."

You smiled while rubbing her shoulder. "Of course, darling." You replied, but that didn't really seem to cheer her up. You couldn't help but be a little gentler with her, she had a good heart for a hell born. "Let's make a deal." You suggested to her as an idea popped into your head.

Right after the sentence came out of your mouth, Vaggie narrowed her eyes and stepped protectively in front of her girlfriend. "Charlie doesn't make deals with demons like you." She said protectively, and you leaned closer to her at what she said. Your pupils narrowed to slits and two more eyes opened menacingly on your face. "What do you mean with demons like me, little lady, hm?" You asked her as the light in the room began to flicker, and you saw her continue to stand her ground, even though you could smell the slight fear emanating from her.

You pulled back again and returned to your normal self. "I'm just kidding, I know I'm a greedy bitch." You laughed out and saw how Vaggies eye twitch in irritation while Charlie laughed along a little uncomfortably. "Well, even though I wouldn't mind making an official deal with the little princess, I was thinking more of a friendly kind of deal." You suggested. "I'll put in a good word if the subject of your hotel comes up with anyone I know, and in return, I'd just like to ask you for a teeny tiny favor."

That didn't sound so bad. It would be good for their image if someone like you would spread a few good things about the hotel. Before Charlie could agree, Vaggie straddled back in. "And what does this favor involve?"

You conjured up a collar with a bell and an old Poloroid camera with a snap of your fingers. "Make Husk wear this and take lots of photos of it. Preferably of the process too, 'cause I'm working on some thank you cards for my company." You say and put the two things in her hands. You then remembered something. "Oh! And give this to him too." You added and handed Charlie a piece of paper. "That bastard owes me sixty thousand dollars 'cause of that Berry guy, or whatever his name was."

You were about to turn around and walk to the door when you met two red eyes right in front of you. "Leaving us so soon, what a shame." Said the Radio Demon with a smile as you took a step back so that you were no longer face to face. "Your presence turned out to be quite entertaining, I too had secretly hoped that you would give our great hotel a chance." He announced, pointing his funny stick at you.

You pushed it aside with your finger. "Well, thank you, Blossom, but I'm afraid my presence is in demand at other places." You pronounced not very regretfully.

He raised an eyebrow and would find your nicknames more amusing if he'd understood the reference. "And where would that be?"

You looked neutral. "I actually have a massage appointment at six. See you then." You said goodbye and went away with a poof after you clapped with your hands.

A few seconds of silence passed after you disappeared, and Vaggie looked at the objects in her hands again, a little questioningly. "So, what's the best way to go about this?" She asked Charlie, who was already looking thoughtfully at the bar. "Let's ask him first. Maybe he's in a good mood."

Vaggie looked at the man in question and saw him drinking a large bottle of alcohol before throwing it in the back to get his hands on another one. "Sweetie, do you know Husk?"

#hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vivziepop #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #fanfic #hazbin imagine #x reader #x you #x female y/n #x female reader

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Dirty Little Secret

Part 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader, Best friend! JJ x Pogue!Reader (All over 18)

TW: angst, brief mention of weed and alcohol

Summary: You and Rafe are in a secret relationship, but it all comes to a head when a girl gets a little too close at a party.

Word Count:4.1k

You've been dating Rafe for almost a year, and it's been filled with love, lust, and laughter. You're both happier than you've ever been but the catch is, no one knows. It had started off as a mutual agreement to keep your relationship a secret.

You're a pogue and he's a kook; neither of you wanted the drama that would come from your unlikely pairing to interfere. However, as time passed and the two of you realized you were in love, the truth remained hidden.

You've always understood, really you have. You've each got reputations, and Rafe had insisted that Ward finding out about you would threaten your safety. You trust him, so you've never questioned his motives.

Standing here now at a party, doubt begins to flood your system, the nauseating scent of weed mixed with beer doing nothing to help your anxiety as your mind reels.

Rafe is constantly getting attention from female suitors and it's never really bothered you before. So you're not sure why bile is rising in your throat as you watch a girl twirl her hair and blink up at your boyfriend.

Women don't know he's taken, and you're well aware that your boyfriend is a beautiful man. You've told him many times that he could easily be a runway model. So it's never surprised you that he has a long line of women dying to get him into bed.

What does surprise you is the fact that Rafe is entertaining it this time. You stand frozen in place as his arm wraps around the blonde woman's shoulder and his head tilts back as he laughs without a care in the world.

Usually, the two of you have an agreement not to be seen together. It's just easier that way; it eliminates any suspicion or questions. That flies out the window as your feet carry you forward on a mission, and you stop just short of the giggling duo.

Rafe notices you immediately and though he's good about keeping a poker face, you know him better than you know yourself and recognize the concern and confusion swimming in his blue eyes that you so often drown in.

"Hey, Rafe."

Your smile is tight as you stare up at him, and in the same way you can read him like a book, he immediately knows that you're upset.

"Hey."

The woman looks between the two of you with pinched eyebrows before returning her attention to your boyfriend.

"Who's this, Rafey?"

You resist the urge to rip out her extensions that probably cost more than your car and tilt your head to the side.

"Yeah, Rafey. Who am I?"

Now, Rafe knows that he's playing with fire. He can see the storm brewing in your normally bright eyes and wants nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and shout how much he loves you at the top of his lungs.

However, for the first time, you two are playing very different games, and his next move is dangerously miscalculated.

"Just a friend."

The words taste like acid as they leave his tongue, and he knows he fucked up the exact second he sees them register in your mind. Your gaze hardens into stone and the usual love and affection that your eyes hold for him are nowhere to be found.

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes so far you can barely see while giving a short nod.

"Just a friend. Right."

You know you're being unfair; the two of you have had set rules since the beginning and you just swapped the handbook on a moment's notice. However, the logical side of you doesn't think it's too much to ask for your boyfriend to, at the bare minimum, not flirt unabashedly in your face.

This woman isn't even from here, she's clearly a touron. You can't for the life of you figure out why the hell it would matter if he told her that you're his girlfriend.

Last night, he was whispering under the stars about how he wants to marry you one day and today you're just a friend. The whole dynamic suddenly feels wrong, and you're hit with a painful realization that you deserve more.

The two of you stare each other down for a moment before you turn on your heel and storm off. You only get a few feet away before Rafe's large hand encircles your wrist and pulls you to the side away from prying ears.

"Hey, what was that about?"

You look up at him in disbelief before scoffing and he scowls.

"We agreed to keep our relationship hidden. We shouldn't even be together right now."

You ignore the searing pain that his insensitive statement sends through your chest and will the tears to disappear. His features soften when he notices you're about to cry, and he raises his hand to wipe at your eyes.

Your body instinctively lurches backward as if he's holding a flame to your face, and hurt flashes across his sculpted features.

"Yeah, Rafe. Hide it, not blatantly lie about it! We certainly didn't agree to openly flirt with other people."

You curse the way your voice cracks and cross your arms over your chest as if they're a brick wall creating a barrier between the two of you.

"Y/N, you agreed-"

You cut him off with a shake of your head and take another step back.

"I know what I agreed to. I just didn't think that I'd have to keep up the ruse even after we were well established. I mean, we love each other Rafe! I want to be able to hold my boyfriend's hand and kiss him in public!"

Rafe sighs and runs a hand over his head, clearly getting frustrated with this whole situation.

"I thought what we have is enough."

He's trying to keep himself in check, but his patience is wearing thin, and a headache is brewing thanks to the impending argument.

"Well, it's not anymore. I don't care about a stupid fucking class war, I just want you. All of you. If I can't have that, then what the fuck are we doing? There's no future if you can't even be seen with me. What are you gonna do? Marry me in secret and we'll just live in separate houses?"

The angry exterior comes crashing down as the weight of your words crushes him, and he wishes he could just take all of this back.

"What are you saying?"

He's scared to ask the question and completely terrified of your answer.

"I'm saying choose. Me or your precious image."

There's a heavy tension that hangs in the air, and with each second he doesn't answer your heart breaks a little more. If the roles were reversed, you wouldn't have even hesitated and it occurs to you that maybe you love him more than he loves you.

Maybe he doesn't love you at all.

You tilt your head to stare up at the stars, suddenly feeling stupid. Of course you would never get a happy ending with Rafe. You're a pogue; you were never going to be more than that to him.

How foolish of you to let him in and allow yourself to believe he could feel something real for you. His father always said 'Play with trash and you'll get dirty.'

That's all you've ever been; a disposable fling until someone better came around. Someone deemed worthy of wearing his ring and having the name Cameron.

You focus on a single blade of grass sticking out of the ground and swallow thickly.

"Well, I guess your silence is my answer. Good enough to fuck, but never good enough to actually love."

The air is sucked out of his lungs at your statement and his world feels like it's burning all around him.

"Do you really believe that?"

His voice is so soft and tender that you almost let yourself believe love and pain are lying under the surface.

"You haven't shown me anything to prove otherwise."

He's seconds from falling to his knees to beg for forgiveness and pour his heart out when you turn and walk away without glancing back.

"Where are you going?"

Your steps don't falter for a moment and you're still just close enough for him to make out your answer.

"Back to my side. I'd rather be in the company of people who aren't ashamed at the mere thought of being associated with me."

Every fiber of Rafe's being is screaming at him to chase after you, but his feet feel like lead and he watches helplessly as you disappear out of sight.

"Fuck!"

You don't know how long you've been walking, but you're interrupted by the sound of a dirt bike. A small sliver of hope ignites that maybe it's Rafe, but is quickly extinguished when you remember you texted your best friend.

You shouldn't be surprised that he came looking for you; there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. There's a fleeting thought about the fact that JJ drove around for god knows how long to find you when Rafe couldn't even be bothered to walk after you, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived.

You're sure you look a mess with windswept hair and mascara trailing down your cheeks but you don't care. As far as you know, your relationship just ended, and you're beyond distraught.

With each step you took, you silently prayed that Rafe would appear and sweep you off your feet. But this isn't a movie, and you're not the main character who gets the guy.

JJ's heart shatters at the sight of you tucked into yourself. You look so small and frail, and he doesn't need to ask to know that something happened between you and Rafe.

He's the only one who knows; you've never kept a secret from him and truthfully you needed someone to go to about your relationship.

He shrugs off his jacket and carefully places it on you before zipping it up. No words are exchanged; they're not needed. The two of you have always been kindred spirits, understanding each other even when you don't understand yourselves.

"Let's get you home, you're trembling."

He hands you his helmet and you climb on the back of his bike silently, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly. Your head lays on his back in between his shoulder blades and he takes off, speeding through the dark streets toward the only place other than Rafe's arms you've ever truly felt like you belong.

He pulls up to John B's house and you trek inside to clean up while he rejoins the group in the hot tub. He's always given you space and you're grateful. The last thing you need right now is an interrogation and he knows that.

Your reflection stares back at you in the mirror and you sigh at your splotchy cheeks and puffy eyes. You wash your face with cold water and change into something comfier, raiding JJ's drawer in the guest room for a pair of his sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

You briefly consider just crawling into bed and sobbing, but decide that you won't let the rest of your night be ruined. It's been a while since you've gotten to hang out with your closest friends, and you know JJ will have you smiling and laughing by the end of the night.

Your best friend's face lights up when you reappear and he beckons you with a bright smile. They've moved away from the hot tub, now slotted around a large bonfire.

You return his grin the best you can and shuffle toward him, taking a seat by his side. His arm wraps around your back and he pulls you into him before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

You snuggle in closer, letting his bare chest warm you up as the aroma of his woodsy cologne mixed with scorched wood fills your nose. It feels so safe, and you relax into the familiar sensation.

Everyone is laughing loudly and passing around a joint as you stare into the flames. You're entranced by the way sparks fly and smoke billows as the fire dances in front of you. It's comforting and you lose yourself in your thoughts as you watch the embers float away.

JJ notices your blank stare as you focus on the way the fire turns from blue to orange to yellow and he gives you a small nudge.

"Earth to Y/N. You with me?"

There's a teasing lilt to his voice thinly disguising his worry and you smile up at him.

"Yeah, I'm with you J."

His hand squeezes your waist and he lowers his voice so that only you can hear him.

"I can see the gears turning in that pretty head of yours. Wanna talk about it?"

Your head shakes from side to side as you finally take the lit joint and inhale deeply before handing it back to him.

"No, I just want to have fun and not think for a while."

His dimples pop out as he grins down at you and he laughs.

"Well, you're in luck. Making you laugh and not thinking are my two specialties."

He stays true to his word, and within the hour you're riding a light buzz and laughing so hard your stomach hurts. Any thought of your fight with Rafe is miles away and joy swells in JJ's chest as he looks at your bloodshot eyes that are leaking tears of laughter instead of sorrow.

You're all so caught up in the moment that you don't even hear the roaring engine of Rafe's bike. He's spent the last two and a half hours in agony, pacing around his room with relentless tears and a runny nose.

He wanted to run after you and track you down, but he also didn't want to make it worse. He figured it was best to give you space, and he waited as long as he could before he couldn't bear it anymore.

He checked your location to confirm his suspicions and set off to get his girl. The two of you always had your location on, something that was done as a safety measure. You had completely forgotten about it, and silently kick yourself for not just turning your phone off.

"What are you doing?"

Everybody stiffens when his voice cuts through the conversation and you turn slowly to look at him, still in JJ's arms. You don't miss the way his hold tightens or the way his muscles flex and subconsciously lean further into him.

Everyone else is genuinely confused, lost as to why the oldest Cameron could possibly be standing in front of them right now.

Your eyes meet Rafe's and your stomach lurches at the mixture of anger and betrayal in his ocean-colored irises. You don't answer, the haze still fogging your reaction time, and he repeats his question with a little more urgency.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

Your brain seems to kick into gear and rage overtakes your senses.

"Just friend things." You bite, and Rafe physically recoils as you throw his own term back in his face.

You both know the implication behind your words and while you know that nothing is going on between you and the blonde surfer, Rafe doesn't. You expect your boyfriend - or maybe ex-boyfriend, you suppose- to flip shit, but instead, he just looks anguished.

You take in his appearance and your heart squeezes when you see he looks even worse off than you are. His eyes are red and swollen, there are dried tears on his face and neck, and if he still had his long hair you're sure it would be a disheveled mess from constantly running his hands through it.

By the grace of god, no one says anything even though you know they have a million questions and you internally battle yourself. You want to jump into Rafe's arms and apologize, but then again, what the hell do you have to apologize for?

He takes a tentative step forward and you squeeze JJ's knee when he shifts to stand. Rafe's eyes dart down at the movement and his gaze slowly lifts back up to meet yours. He's silently pleading with you, and against your better judgment, you cock your head to tell him you'll talk off to the side.

He follows you to a tree that's just out of listening range and you turn to look at him. He feels sick as he takes in your appearance. Your hair is in a bun and he can tell by your glossed-over eyes that you're high. What really catches his attention though is the fact that JJ's clothes are swallowing your frame whole.

He didn't realize how much he hates the image of you in another man's clothes, and he can't stomach the idea that this will be his reality if he can't change your mind.

He only ever wants you to wear his t-shirts, and though he's always given you shit over the fact that you've stolen every hoodie he's ever let you wear, he's now more than willing to give you his entire closet if it means he never has to feel this way again.

All he's been able to think about is you being alone and broken since you walked off. It hadn't even occurred to him that you weren't alone and that if you ended things you have people to come back to. You're all he has.

It didn't cross his mind that you would move on, and he'd have to watch you love someone else from afar. The idea drives him insane, and he's willing to go to the ends of the earth to prevent it from becoming reality.

If you told him right now to strip down and do a jig in front of the entire population of OBX, he would if it meant he doesn't have to spend the rest of his life mourning the one that got away.

You stare up at him defiantly as he squirms, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he tries to think of what to say.

"You and JJ…"

His question tapers off and you let it hang in the air and choke him for a second before answering.

"Nothing happened, I just said that to hurt you. Did it work? Thinking that I could have something with someone else?"

Rafe forgot how cold you can be when you've been scorned, the ice in your voice penetrating his veins and freezing his blood solid.

"Yes. Remarkably well."

Your eyes rake over his figure with scrutiny and you resist the urge to crumble under his spell.

"Good."

It's harsh, cruel even, but apparently he needs to be reminded that you know your worth and could easily find a replacement. It's a lie you tell yourself; you know that no one could ever replace Rafe, not really. Your soul is intricately entwined with his in ways you didn't know was possible.

He gives a curt nod and drops his eyes to the ground, unable to take the heartless glare you're giving him.

It's a sight to see; big bad Rafe Cameron insecure and floundering. It's a side of him that only you're able to bring out. He finally met his match; the one person out of eight billion that can bring him to his knees without a single word.

"I'm sorry."

He sounds like a scared little boy, and against your will, your heart sinks.

"For?"

An apology isn't enough; you need to know that he's aware of what he's apologizing for. You need to hear the words and acknowledgment leave his mouth.

"For flirting with that girl, and for making you feel like you're not worthy. Like you're not important to me and that I'm ashamed of you. Of us. I hate myself for making you think I don't love you."

You let the words sink in for a moment and shift on your feet, debating your next words.

"You have my heart in the palm of your hands, Rafe. I just never thought you'd intentionally crush it."

He loathes how small and meek your voice is, completely consumed by heartache. He'd take you raging and screaming at him over crying because of him any day.

"I know. I'm a fucking idiot, and it seems like no matter what choice I make it's always the wrong one. I need you to know that I'm trying. I'm trying to be better for you. You're it for me, Y/N. I'll do anything to make you see that, to feel that. Please, tell me you know that."

A single tear slips down your face and you turn your head to look out at the waves.

"I know."

Your voice is barely above a whisper, and more salty tears stain your cheeks when Rafe's hand reaches out to cup your chin and turn your head to look at him.

"Please, I promise that we can go public. I'll scream it from the rooftops, I don't care. Whatever you need, I'll do it. Nothing and no one is more important than you. You're part of me, and I think if I lost you I'd lose myself too."

In seconds, the wall that went up around your battered heart comes crashing down and you step forward into his arms. He engulfs you immediately, holding you with such force you're not sure how you can breathe.

You register wetness on your hair and lock your arms around his neck. Your hands play with the short hair at the nape of his neck and he cries even harder.

Despite what he's put you through, you're still willing to comfort him and he doesn't understand why. Your love for him is so pure and all-consuming, he's sure he isn't worthy.

The pogues watch intently, shocked by the sobs wracking the man's body. They've never seen Rafe show any emotion other than anger, and despite their initial disgust when he showed up, they figure you must be something special to elicit such raw vulnerability from the kook king.

"I don't deserve you. It was never you that's not good enough. It's me."

You only squeeze him tighter, pain squeezing your chest at his genuine despair.

"That's not true, Rafe. You're an idiot sometimes, but you're human. You're allowed to make mistakes, you just have to own up to them and rectify the situation."

He whimpers at your reassurance, the sentiment foreign to him. His entire life he's been held to a standard of perfection. He isn't used to getting a second chance, he barely gets a first.

"Don't ever do some dumb shit like this again, Rafe."

Your watery voice is muffled by his broad shoulder and he nods his head in the crook of your neck. The way he practically has to fold in half to place his face against your shoulder would almost be funny if it wasn't such a heartfelt moment.

Sarah snaps a picture of the tender affection and smiles at her phone, just happy to finally see her brother act like a human being.

"I promise, baby. I never want to be the cause of your tears and pain again. It hurts me."

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes before you tell the Pogues you're heading out.

"Are you okay?"

JJ is staring daggers at your boyfriend as he asks and you give him a tight hug.

"I'm good, JJ. Pinky promise."

He nods and lowers his lips to your ear.

"Call me if you need anything."

You press a kiss to his cheek and smile before nodding.

"Always."

You and Rafe make your exit, and for the first time, he takes you to Tannyhill to spend the night. Usually, the two of you crash at one of the unused estates, hidden away from the public.

Luckily, Ward and Rose are away for the weekend so you have time to come up with a game plan and mentally prepare for the nuclear fallout.

You're just settling into Rafe's bed wearing one of his Lacrosse hoodies from the academy when your phone dings. You frown at the Instagram notification and click it, your mouth dropping open when you see the post you were tagged in.

It's the picture Sarah took and sent to Rafe, along with a few more of the two of you at the beach and kissing.

Your pulse thrums in your ears as you see the likes growing and read the caption.

My entire heart

Rafe emerges from the bathroom as if he didn't just make the most shocking announcement Figure Eight has ever heard, and you stare at him dumbfounded.

"That was fast."

He laughs and shuts his phone off as it starts to explode with texts and crawls into bed.

"I'm not spending another second without the entire world knowing you're my girl."

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic

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kagamesayu · 7 days

Note

I loved ur bimbo x shidou- you wrote him so well omg- pls make more with shidou <33

shidou ryusei x bimbo!reader pt 2

c/w . implied female reader, smut MDNI, fluff, shidou ryusei is INSANELY CRAZY for you wc: 1.2 k a/n . omai gah my first ask 🥹 TY I WAS SO WORRIED I WROTE HIM TOO TAME!! blonde demon fuck 🥰 ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!! reblogs and comments appreciated ✧*.

pt 1, pt 2

imagine...

shidou who loves putting a hand on your thigh when he drives. he has the music turned down - probably something from 'hide' - while he rests his cheek against his fist, staring and listening to you rambling about a cute puppy you saw.

the hand on your thigh squeezes and massages the flesh between his fingers absentmindedly. though he's looking at you, he probably isn't thinking about too much (when does he ever though) other than the fact that you look so fucking cute.

your shiny lipgloss, the animated way your hands move when you talk about how the puppy just kept hopping about and licking your 'fingies', how your eyes light up and shine.

he taps his pointer finger against your inner thigh twice, getting your attention, before leaning close, lips puckered. "got me all winded up doll~ ya look soo cute right now~!" and you pause, face turning hot before you giggle and peck his lips.

i hc him to have insane road rage, and you can tell by how angry he is by how he squeezes your thigh.

if it's just a long line, he'll squeeze your knee slightly, pinching and playing with the flesh while waiting for the traffic to move.

however if anyone does anything else like cutting in front of you or stopping suddenly, he immediately becomes to furious. his hand grips onto your thigh harder, digging his fingers into your flesh in an almost bruising grip. he does it both to relieve his rage and to keep you from flying too far away - even with the seat belt keeping you safe.

"these fuckers don't know how to fuckin' drive? almost made my baby fly out the damn car!"

he has a crazy look on his face. this is the only circumstance his hand leaves your thigh. it flies up to the horn, blaring it and staring right at the car that dared to put your safety at risk.

and the poor people who cut in front of you are non the wiser of the demon they angered. shidou will purposely drive to be beside the car and look inside with his piercing eyes.

safe to say the offenders will zoom tf away.

and when they do shidou will look straight at you wide smile on his face. 'praise me!' and what else can you do when your man protects you as well as he has?

anyone driving past your car would think there was a dog inside because of all the howling

shidou who clings and whines when he had to leave your side. every so often he has to go overseas for a match, and you almost always forget to request for day offs.

"my dumb little doll, makin' me suffer for their actions..." he always sulks, pouty as he snuggles deep into your neck.

he hates not having you be his side, hates not being to hold you, touch you, smell you, kiss you. he'd rather die than not be able to be with you.

for the days leading up to his departure he clings onto you. early morning runs are delayed cause he stays in bed longer, either with his cock buried deep inside, having you cockwarm him or with his head between your legs enjoying what little time he had left.

and when the time finally comes for him to leave has a few memorabilia to keep him going through the days. pictures of you, promises of calls every morning, afternoon and night, your undies, the usual!

might explore this more it sounds kinda fun ngl

shidou who loves your trampstamp. you'd gotten it while he was out of the country and took a picture of it to cheer him up.

you'd heard some of your girl friends got it and it made their significant others happy, so you did it too!

what could go wrong?

apparently a lot. the moment shidou saw the picture - accompanied by the text "got a new tattoo! isn't it cute?" - he went feral.

the picture of you in front of the mirror with your shirt off, undies pulled low to show him the fresh ink on your skin, killed shidou ryusei.

immediately he books a flight home. he doesn't care if the match is tomorrow, his doll got him a present and he needs to have them in his arms and on his dick right now.

he texted you that he was coming back but you didn't believe him. he has a match tomorrow, there's no way he's coming home!

oh sweetheart.

and you have no one else to blame other than yourself when he shows up ay the front door, dripping in sweat and lust, demanding you show him the tattoo.

the look he has in his eye is exactly the same as when he's on the field. the same look he has when he wants to shoot a goal. when he explodes.

and there is a goal here. right in front of him.

you.

shidou who makes you swatch new lipstick on him. red, pink, purple, green, he wants you to paint the whole damn rainbow on him with your lips.

you can bet the moment you return from a makeup store - using his money too, of course - he's grabbing you and sitting you on his lap on the couch and making you bring out your haul.

and you show it to him like you're a makeup youtube creator, hand behind the product and reading out the names to shidou. and he nods along, smirking and watching your child-like excitement over your newest palette.

"oh my god ryu!! look!!", you pull out a cute pink eyeshadow palette.

"ooh, that looks cute doll."

"it's the trixie mattel 'girl talk' palette!! i just saw it and had to buy it! look this hot pink is to die for!!"

and he thinks your rambling is cute, he really does, but all he's really excited to see is the new lipstick or lipgloss you bought.

"and look at how pink this lipstick is baby!"

you're too oblivious to realise how much he perked up, hands gripping your sides tighter, expectant look on his face as he watches your hands take out the products.

"i got this pink, and this one which is a little darker, and this one that's sparkly~!"

"well? what're you waitin' for then pretty?"

and that's your cue to start unboxing them, putting them on your lips and marking up your man.

30 minutes is all it takes for you to finish trying out all your new lipsticks. but you're not even focused on swatching it anymore.

now he's looming over your panting form, strings of drool connecting your lips. your eyes are teary, mascara dripping down your face as your hands grip onto his blond hair.

his face is littered with pink kisses. on his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his chin, his neck, everything all the way down to his naked chest is covered in kisses.

he's gorgeous. that's all your dumb little brain can think when he kisses you like this.

she's perfect. is all shidou ryusei can think when you kiss him like this.

#x bimbo!reader #x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #✧. bllk

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tipsyleaf · 22 days

Text

Ballet Shoes and Bulletproof Vests

CW: Recovering from alcoholism (Leons just trying to better himself man

Words: 1k

A/N: 👛anon I've had brain rot because of you. But I still love you pookie.

Blue leotard... Gunmetal blue, his favorite shade. It was almost like you were trying to send a signal through the glass windows of the studio attached to the apartment building gym.

Every weekend for the past few months he'd come down and workout for a two hours without issue. Until you moved into the building a month ago. Walking through the gym in leotards and the same skin tone tights straight into the small studio space.

Leon picked up quickly that you don't seem to be doing mindless pirouettes, pliés or chassé. You practiced the same routine, which means you probably do this for a living. Or at the very least a hobby.

He tried his best to not come off creepy but sometimes he couldn't stop from staring. Leon rarely found beauty in life anymore, something he was trying to fix. His sponsor suggested that life could be worth living if you find something meaningful to live for.

Besides surviving or being a living breathing weapon.

At first, the staring was for more "primal" reasons, but it soon turned to him admiring how gracefully you could move. How sharp your movements were. The clean movements were mesmerizing and very distracting. It certainly didn't help that you were pretty either. But every time you stopped and turned back towards the windows, Leon would turn away immediately. Scared you'd think he was some kind of weirdo or worse...

A pervert.

You were probably way too prissy for him anyway. Why bother window shopping?

You're too pure, jumping around in white satin ballet slippers and him in bulletproof vests with tactical gear. Your worlds can never mix, you're too different. Far too different.

So, with his better judgment, Leon got into the habit of changing his routine and getting up at the crack of dawn like in his army days. Just to go workout first thing in the morning. Leaving the gym as you were coming in.

But one morning you didn't come in as he was leaving. And as usual, he stops at his mailbox, fishing in his jacket pocket as he walks into the main lobby.

And there you were. Stood in front of the mailboxes, sorting through a few envelopes with your tiny mailbox door hung open.

Shit... This is gonna be awkward.

Leon approaches slowly, walking up to his mailbox and ripping his keys out of his jacket pocket. Something round flies out of his pocket with a clatter as it hits the floor. You lift your head to see the green chip rolling across the floor, quickly you step past him and pin it under your shoe.

Leon stares, realizing he forgot to take his chip out of his pocket after his meeting last night. Too tired from a long day at work to remember before passing out in bed as soon as he got home. He can feel his neck heating up, he hasn't even said a single word to you, and now you'll know he's an alcoholic trying to get his life together.

And he's sweaty and gross?!

What a fantastic first meeting...

You bend down, grabbing the green chip from the floor as you walk back. Giving it a glance, you hold it out for him. Slowly he raises his hand, chest tightening as he nods a “Thank You” while taking it.

"90 days is a big accomplishment, you should be proud of yourself." He stared for a moment, fully expecting a dirty look or pity.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I-I am." His lips drew to a line as you walked back around him, shutting your mailbox and locking it. He gives you a glance as you grab your bag from the floor and give him a small smile.

"You're from 3D, right?" You question, his eyes glance at his mailbox, his lips part slightly. Brain trying to process how you knew his apartment without even talking to him.

"Yes?" His eyebrows raised, your eyes fixed on his uneasy response.

"Hmm." She looks him up and down, almost like she's trying to size him up. Or even taken him in completely.

"A little scruffy for my taste, but you'll get the job done." His nose wrinkled as you stepped past him, and headed for the door.

"The hell do you mean by that?" You turned your attention back to him, smiling again.

"The old ladies in the building, they talk about everyone. Well, anyone interesting at least. And they said you're pretty cute. I'd have to agree." He feels his neck burning again, embarrassment of another kind seeping into his collarbone and rising to his cheeks as he smiles a tiny bit.

He was never great with women.

"Thank you..." He clutches the chip in his hand, running his thumb across the bumped out embossing of the metal.

"And um... I know we don't know each other," you step forward again, gesturing to his hands, "but I'm here if you ever need to be talked down... 3 years for me, still have my bad days, but it gets easier with time. I promise."

He looks a little surprised, not expecting you to know his struggles in some way. He just nods, watching you lean to the side, looking behind him and turning back to leave again.

"Congratulations again on 90 days, Leon." You smile, pushing the door open.

"Whoa, wait. What's your-"

"2B!" You yell back without turning around, watching you leave through the doors leading to the gym. His head swivels, looking at the mailboxes. Seeing your name printed a piece of tape stuck to your mailbox.

His mind wanders, thinking of you as he pulls his bills from his mailbox. A folded over flyer was wrapped around the envelopes. Pulling it off the envelope, he gave it a long look. Your face staring back at his as you're leaping in a beautiful flowing white dress and veil.

Giselle printed in fancy font under you pointed toes along with show times for next weekend.

Staring for a second, he thought, pondering over the words of his sponsor telling him to try new things.

Maybe he should try theater.

#🌿 ivy writes #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader

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dungeonpuppykai · 1 month

Note

About burglar!Curtis…

This idea occurred to me too, and to shut me up he’d use me for his needs and breed me full of his child 🥵🫣🫣

KATHYYYY YOU SEXY BEAST 🥵

| Wrong Place, Right Time |

Warning(s): Noncon, burglar!Curtis, frisking, corruption kink, groping, unprotected p-in-v sex, bondage, breeding kink, choking, fear kink, pet names, dacryphilia, mild spanking, creampie, degradation, drugging.

Pairing: Dark Burglar!Curtis Everett | Naive!You.

It was ironic and yet fateful.

The house that the shadowy man had broken in to rob wasn't even yours.

You had just been a friend who was there for a sleepover.

Your eyes widen and you freeze in your spot between the double doors of the fridge when you hear a click from the kitchen backdoor that opens into the yard behind the house. Either you were too caught up in your rummaging of the contents inside the appliance to find something to snack on, or whoever it was that was slowly entering the dimly lit room with soft thuds of their boots now was such a professional that they hadn't required any prior tampering with the mechanism before easing it open, because you hadn't heard anything until the door was being noiselessly pulled open.

Your head whips to your sides frantically as you panic, unable to decide a course of action that feels right.

It is when the footsteps become louder and louder that you drop to your knees with your ears flaming hot and you crawl to the kitchen island and grab the first thing that you can reach; which is a rolling pin for whatever reason.

Clutching your weapon close to your chest, you bite your lip to try and champion your panting as you move to your feet but remain ducking behind the island, vigilant eyes scanning your surroundings. Whoever it is has most probably figured out that they aren't alone due to how the refrigerator light had been illuminating the otherwise mostly dark room, the thumping close of the magnetized doors only further damning you.

You tightly chew on your bottom lip as you slowly move around the counter, eyeing the kitchen door while the footsteps circle the workspace in the same fashion.

Your eyebrows furrow when they abruptly come to a halt and everything goes dead silent again. You take a few moments before raising your head and peeking over the marble top to check the intruder's position.

But no one is there.

Self doubt suddenly grips at you and you wonder if you hallucinated or misperceived something else for a creep but then–

"Boo~" a deep whisper sounds right beside your ear and your eyes widen as you spin so fast you can barely comprehend anything. The way in which the stranger suspends your rushed attack by wrapping his rough fingers around your weapon bearing band and depriving it of any and all liberty while his other hand flies to your throat to walk you back into a wall is all too quick for you to register until after it's happened.

"Woah, now. What do we think we are doing?"

Okay, he is a professional.

Your eyes that can rival saucers instantly fill with tears as the man gathers your other hand along with the one that had meant him offense above your head. He easily snatches the rolling pin from you before looking around and then tossing it in a basket that holds various kitchen cloths in it.

The harsh blue of his eyes is so bright that you can make it out even in the liminal lighting. "Now, where were we?" As his amused gaze now trails over your barely clad body, you realize that burglary is no longer the center of his focus, for a deep pink tongue reveals itself from his bearded mouth and licks a long stripe of his chapped bottom lip. Since one of his arms is half raised to keep you locked in place, the heavy scent of what can only be described as raw manliness wafts to your nostrils and lingers in the air all around you. His pale face is dirty and stern, cheeks scarred in some places under the thick mat of his dark beard.

The stranger does not muffle your mouth but you're far too petrified to attempt anything unwise. He does not need to press a weapon to your skin to ensure meekness either, for his bruised and naked lethal fists are threatening enough.

So you let out the only thing anyone in your situation would in their helplessness. "P- Please."

"Hm" his eyes lower to scan your erect nipples that push against the sheer fabric of your tank top, his pearly whites -that are in a stark contrast to the rest of the darkness- flash as he smirks when he locates the spot that your natural moisture has caused in your fluffy cotton panties. "Gotta make sure you don't have any more surprises for me first" and then you're whipped around before his free hand is all over you, the coarse pads of his fingers roaming over every bump and crevice of your form.

You let out an audible gasp when his palm brushes against your breasts -that he had neglected along with your intimates during the initial frisk- and he lets it circle the shape before taking a proper squeeze. You wince and your body responds to the pain by making your muscles twitch. Your back arches as a result and your ass bounces up to collide with his own privates and then the man has no choice but to look down with a grunt at the assaulter.

The sight that his cruel blue eyes meet with pulls his lips wider and his expression deepens into a grin. "Jeez" a small patch of fuzzy little threads resembling a bunny tail stands erect an inch or two above your covered pucker.

What?

You like cute things and so you reward yourself with them every once in a while.

The realization that you are wearing that underwear claws at your throat and cheeks alike and you can't help but flush even in this depraved situation.

"Didn't know I had myself a bunny here" your thumping heart begins to thunder when you feel his hand toy with the 'tail' for a few moments before he flicks it. You are on the verge of letting out a peep but he suddenly snatches your throat back into his grasp and sandwiches your body between his hard one and the wall you're facing.

"Tell me" his beard scratches against the shell of your ear from behind and you tremble in fear. Your legs try to press together to try and cover yourself in any way you can but the stranger ruthlessly worms one of his feet between yours and roughly pushes them apart. The action causes you to lose your balance and your legs go to split but the knee he props up in the middle catches you just in time. "Do you like to breed like one too?" He doesn't care for the frantic shaking of your head and instead caresses your nether regions with the intruder he has pushed between them.

"Plea–"

"I think you do" he decides for the two of you and marches you into the pantry closet before pushing you over a big carton that stands in the center. The stranger easily manhandles you and before you can try your luck even in vain, he grabs an apple from one of many baskets lined along the edge of a table before pushing it in your mouth. Your teeth dig into it and your jaw locks in place due to its size, your head having no choice but to lay against the box sideways as your eyes release stinging tears all the while.

The man seems to be in a rut as he does not bother with ridding you of what little covers you have on, instead only roughly pulling down your panties before grunting at the sight of your sex that glistens even in the small light that shines in the dark closet from the kitchen. A calloused palm lands on your ass and makes you jump up with a whimper, your bloodshot eyes unable to see much even though they frantically dart about futilely in every direction they can.

The man does not waste another second and aligns his rock hard cock along your entrance and pushes in within the next moment, groaning at the balmy tightness of your soft walls. "Fuck, bunny" while one of his coarse hands keep your wrists arrested above your ass, the other squeezes at your hip before steeling you in place. "Trying to shake your head no but makin' a mess inside those cute little bunny panties like it's your job" he jerks the rest of his seemingly never ending length deep up your cavern.

Your pussy has had to expand so much to accompany him that you can feel a very obvious and painful strain in the band of your opening, the ache causing you to fear that you might rip. Your mouth is full of apple juice as you blink away your tears, face scrunched in discomfort as you stare at the wine rack in front of you.

The man pulls back almost all the way out only to plunge his cock deeper and harder up your hot channel now. Your head spins and can tell that his unforgiving size has already located your sensitive bundle of nerves within the first few thrusts.

His stiff and thick tip is unrelenting after that as he just keeps on increasing his speed, his heavy balls slapping your sore ass as they try to push their own way in with each push of his hips. The man grunts, curses, gropes, squeezes, spanks and somewhere along the way even leans down to bite at your tear stained cheeks, licking them in long stripes and twitching at the taste while the box below you violently shakes and threatens to come undone by how roughly it is being rocked back and forth.

"You like that, huh, bunny?" He has realized that each time he spanks you or pulsates inside you, you clench sensitively with a moan. And so he has been doing that for the past couple pounds. "Like getting fucked like the little breeding bunny that you are?" His face is next to yours as you sob into the apple, forcing yourself to keep your eyes trained on the wine bottles as he glowers down on you while pistoning himself in and out of you like you're nothing but a toy meant for relief of the depraved sorts.

"What is with the crying, huh?" His hips snap against yours so hard that your aching ass and even pucker shake with each thrust. "You finally have what you always wanted; a man to breed you full and swell like the dirty little bunny that you are" his deep voice is now even more hoarse due to his irregular breathing. "Isn't that why you saunter around other people's houses in nothing but slutty little underwear? So someone can come along and take you for the breeding bunny that you are?" Your eyes move from their position for the first time in a while.

How does he know that it's not your house?

"You don't have to worry about anything now" he wraps your hair around his hand before roughly pulling at it to withstand the force of his orgasm that shoots up your cavity. "Except. For. Bearing. Me. A. Healthy. Fuckin'. Fluffle." Your body naturally reacts to the overwhelming stimulation as he gives you a jab with each word, fucking his hot seed deeper and deeper up your womb, causing your hips to tighten and pussy to milk him as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you fall.

Your owner takes his sweet time fucking his orgasm out and into you as you spasm against the carton helplessly, drowning in a numbing combination of myopia and vertigo of your forced ecstacy, thighs quivering violently.

"Now," the stranger lets up only when he is fully satisfied… for now. Pulling himself out of your abused channel with a wince, he fixes himself up after letting your arms fall limp at your sides. "Oh– there, there" he abruptly halts whatever it is that he's doing behind you to pull up your panties when his seed threatens to spill out of your stuffed slit. "Can't let it go to waste now, can we?" He snickers to himself before appropriating the rest of his condition.

"Now, let's get you to your burrow" you are manhandled up to your malfunctioning feet by your nape and a wet cloth presses to your nose before your eyes can even adjust to the sudden burst of light that shines in from behind his towering form. His face is the last thing you can make out before your knees finally give out and you go to fall on your back but he catches you in one of his hard arms.

"There, there, bunny" his voice echoes in your head as the world around you starts to melt. "I've got you" you feel him remove the apple from your now slack jaw before he lumps you on one of his shoulders.

And then your consciousness fades into an unfathomable abyss.

MASTERLIST

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett smut #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett x ofc #dark!curtis everett #dark curtis everett #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans characters #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans character x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 14 Prompt: Airport and/or Bar

Tags: Established Relationship, Airport Pick Ups, Supportive Wayne Munson, Idiots In Love

wc: 1796 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Long distance isn’t the relationship Steve and Eddie had dreamed they had when they finally confessed their love together in the Spring of ’88, but they’ve been making it work for years now.

As far as Steve’s concerned they are experts at it now.

They talk every night. Steve from his bedroom in the apartment he shares with Robin in San Francisco, Eddie from his own bedroom in the house he lives in with Wayne two towns over from Hawkins.

Steve tells Eddie about his long days at the office, the responsibilities he’s been shouldered with now that he’s earned his father’s trust to run the West Coast branch of the organization by himself. A feat Steve didn’t even know he wanted until he finally sat down with his father years ago to learn what the man did.

Eddie listens tentatively and returns the favor with his own stories of the day. Life at the plant alongside Wayne isn’t his dream, but it's a steady job that pays the bills. Besides, he likes being near Wayne. Can’t imagine a world where he’s not a hop, skip, and a jump away from the old man who quite literally saved his life more than once.

It’s not like they wanted to create professional lives thousands of miles apart from each other, but it's the cards they’ve been dealt. Sure, they’d love to be under the same roof for more than a week at a time, but they make it work. The real truth is that they’re both too afraid to make the other sacrifice all they’ve built for the other. Resentment is a relationship killer and neither is ready to jeopardize the cozy relationship they’ve built.

So, they make do.

Steve visits often, a perk of being the boss of his branch. Occasionally, he writes them off as business trips and checks in on the Midwest branch while he’s in town. Other times he uses his sick days and vacation days to make the trip out to Indiana.

Every time he flies into the Indianapolis International Airport, Eddie is waiting for him at the end of the jet bridge. The first time, he was decked out in a suit a size too small. A chauffeur cap askew on his head and a handwritten sign with “S. Harrington” scrawled across it that he had leaned on a luggage cart like all the other private chauffeurs waiting for their clients. Steve couldn’t help but burst into laughter the moment he saw him, running to Eddie and giving him a hug that the rest of the passengers side-eyeing them — not because they were two men, but because it was one hell of a greeting for a paid chauffeur.

From that moment on, Eddie committed to the airport greeting bit. The next time Steve flew to Eddie, he was greeted with a giant sign that read “Congrats! You survived prison!” A few times after that, Eddie was standing there with a bouquet of blue balloons and a banner that said “It’s a Boy!” There was the time he pretended Steve was his cheating boyfriend and had a total meltdown at the gate only to leave with Steve hand-in-hand three minutes later. And he can’t forget about the time he roped Dustin and the rest of the kids into making the trip, the lot of them waiting for Steve at the gate with various signs claiming to be his long-lost children.

Aside from getting to spend time with Eddie, his airport arrivals were always the highlight of the trip. He knows Eddie gets a kick out of the theatrics, but there’s a part of him deep down that wishes he could be on the receiving end of the airport shenanigans at least once. Unfortunately, Steve has yet to repay the favor since he’s usually the one making the trip out to Indy.

All that’s about to change though, because after years of asking, he’s finally convinced Eddie and Wayne to take their holiday vacation and come spend Christmas with him and Robin in sunny California.

Which means one thing: It’s Steve's turn to create an epic airport arrival sign.

“How am I supposed to top any of these?” Steve asks, sifting through the hoard of airport signs he’s kept over the years. A beautiful tapestry of their chaotic relationship.

“I don’t think Eddie can be topped,” Robin says, searching through her own stack of neon poster boards.

“I mean…”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Steve throws his hands up in defense, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter at bay. The last thing he needs is to upset Robin before they come up with a sign idea.

Sighing, Steve lets his head thunk against the mountain of signs. It’s no surprise Eddie is the more creative one of their relationship, but he feels bad he can’t come up with anything even remotely as good as the signs Eddie’s been creating for years.

“Look, Steve,” Robin says, patting his back. “You’re never going to outdo Eddie. He’s theatrical at his core. He lives for being a menace. Stop trying to channel him and channel yourself instead.”

“Is this your way of telling me you find me boring?” he asks, gazing up at her.

“No, dingus! I’m just saying, channel that Romeo side I know is in there,” she says, thrusting her finger into Steve’s chest. “Be sappy. Eddie’ll appreciate it.”

In the end, Steve takes Robin’s advice. He cuts a fluorescent green poster board into a wonky heart — one side longer than the other. Tries three separate times to get “Welcome Home” centered in the middle before he gives up and freehand it. And then, for extra flair, he uses a bottle and a half go glitter glue on the whole thing. They’re going to be finding specks of glitter for weeks, but he thinks it’ll be worth it.

According to the signs, Eddie and Wayne’s flight has already landed and is en route to the gate. Steve stands nervously by the sky gate exit. The sign is still folded in half, wrinkled at the edges from how much he’s fidgeting with it. He had no idea how nerve-wracking it is being on this side of things. It’s silly really. He knows Eddie is going to be happy to see him, sign or no sign, but he can’t help but be a little on edge.

Thankfully, the doors open and a flood of travelers start disembarking from the plane. Steve stands on his top-toes, scanning the tired faces in search of Eddie and Wayne. As the crowd thins out, Steve starts to worry. Maybe they changed their minds? Maybe they missed the flight. Maybe he’s at the wrong gate?

Shit, what if he’s at the wrong gate?

A glance up at the digital sign above the exit, confirms that Steve is in the right place. He breathes a sigh of relief before he goes back to scanning. They have to be coming out soon, he thinks, and starts to unfold the sign. He holds it low, clutched over his chest until he spots a familiar head of unruly curls.

Hoisting it over his head, he shouts, “Eds!”

Eddie’s head whips around at the sound of his voice, eyes shining when he spots him in the thinning crowd. Steve has all of five seconds to brace himself before Eddie launches himself into his arms, crushing the sign between their bodies.

It’s not uncommon for the two of them to hug when they reunite at the airport, but this feels different. Eddie’s arms are tighter around his neck and he’s pretty sure he can hear him sniffling, body slightly shaking in his grasp.

“Eds?” Steve whispers into the mess of curls. “You okay?”

Eddie nods, slowly peeling himself away from Steve. With a little bit of space between them, Steve watches as Eddie’s eyes glance between the smushed sign and Steve’s eyes. Back and forth, back and forth.

Shit, is it too much?

“Really?” Eddie sniffles, using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe away a tear. “You want this to be our home? Together?”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Steve certainly hadn’t planned for that. Sure, he’s secretly been hoping that the trip out here would get Eddie and to a lesser extent Wayne to realize how great the city is and finally bite the bullet and move out here. Start the mechanic shop they’ve been planing for years. But Steve knew better than to set expectations too high. He’d never ask Eddie to move for him, just like Eddie would never ask Steve to move back for him.

But now, seeing Eddie smiling, eyes glassy with tears. Well, shit, maybe he should have asked him.

“Wait, you want to move in with me?”

“Sweetheart. I’ve wanted to live with you since the moment we said I love you on the Henderson’s porch.”

It’s not news to Steve, per se. They’ve talked at length about what living together would be like; especially in those early days when their relationship was in that blissful honeymoon phase. Still, the words come as a shock to Steve who stumbles out of Eddie’s grasp for a moment.

Running a shaking hand through his hair, he locks eyes with Eddie. “Why the hell have we been doing long distance for a decade?” he laughs, yanking Eddie back into his arms.

“I thought you weren’t ready! I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Baby,” Steve breathes. He can’t believe this. Have they seriously been suffering in silence for years for nothing? Christ, they’re idiots. “Of course, I want to live with you! I just didn’t want to make you move.”

“Jesus Christ,” Wayne grumbles, shaking his head. He stumbles his way towards them, throwing a hand on both of their shoulders. “You two are idiots, you know that? Told ya both you needed to communicate what ya wanted!” He rolls his eyes, shoving them both. “Could’ve been livin’ in the sunshine instead of snowy Indiana for years now.”

“Hey, who said anything about you moving with us?” Eddie asks, tearing his eyes away from Steve to stare at his Uncle.

“Hate to break it to you, boy. But wherever you go, I go. S’the Munson rule.”

Steve can’t help but laugh as he pulls both of them in for a hug before ushering them through the bustling airport. They fetch their bags and make it safely into his car before they’re on the way. As he pulls away from the San Francisco Airport, Eddie immediately reaches for the car radio.

Before he has a chance to change the channel, the crooning voice of Perry Como starts singing “(There’s No Place Like) Home for the Holidays.”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull.

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all.

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal.

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural.

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios.

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal.

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline?

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up.

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!”

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house.

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment.

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter.

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents.

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?”

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh.

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest.

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark.

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse.

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt.

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.”

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’”

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it.

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment.

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself.

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?��

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair.

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades.

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek.

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night.

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice.

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone.

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well.

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background.

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong.

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash.

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter.

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes.

Dad’s home.

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like.

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen.

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time.

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously.

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured.

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor.

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried.

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.”

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.”

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin.

But John didn’t care.

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you?

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form.

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present.

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.”

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe.

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen.

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose.

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling.

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.”

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could.

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation.

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street.

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut.

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?”

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl. “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

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inlovewithfictionalmen7 · 9 months

Text

I'm Sorry Mommy

this is my first attempt at writing smut so im sorry if its bad haha

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

summery: a day out golfing dosent end well when y/n over hears something the boys are talking about.

warnings: oral,sub!Rafe, Rafe crying, kinda mean reader, fem!reader, dom!reader.

word count: 1,807

————————————-<3————————————

y/n and rafe were at the country club golfing with topper and kelce. y/n isn't supper into golfing but she loves spending time with rafe so she's down for anything even if that meant standing in the hot sun while her boyfriend played his sport with his friends so be it.

“Hey babe can you go get us some more drinks please?” Rafe asks her nicely while lining up for his swing. “Yeah of course.”she says, smiling at him and walking away. Before she can get to far though she hears topper and kelce laughing so she stops for a sec to hear what they say

“Man rafe she's like your little bitch huh” kelce says slapping Rafes back then topper jumps in “oh bro i bet she's just worships you in bed and lets you use her” y/n narrows her eyes hoping rafe would change the topic because they both know whos in charge behind closed doors, but her hopes are proven useless as she hears “oh yeah man she's like the biggest slut in bed. I love it” leave her boyfriend's mouth. The boys let out some whoops.

y/n finally goes up and gets their drinks, heading back to the boys, smiling as she hands topper and kelce's theirs, but when she turned her back to face rafe her smile dropped bringing his drink to her lips she takes a sip looking him straight in the eyes before spitting in his cup, smiling and handing it to him. The look on his face tell her, he knows that she heard him and that he was fucked.

The drive home was silent for the most part. Rafe looked over at y/n every once and awhile while she was looking out the window. He knew he was in trouble but he didnt know how he was gonna be punished and that scared him.

After Rafe pulled into his driveway and turned off the truck they sat there in silence for a couple minutes before he tried to speak “baby-” but he's cut off by y/n “go upstairs to your room and strip.” she turns to him, grabbing his face making him look at her. Oh god she does not look happy. Rafe thought to himself “and dont you fucking dare touch yourself” she stated before shoving his face away and getting out of the truck. Rafe doesn't say anything as he gets out and follows her inside not wanting to make his punishment worse.

As he heads to the stairs he notices y/n heading for the kitchen. “y/n? Where are you going?” he asks cautiously. She stops and looks at him over her shoulder “do as you're told and go up stairs rafe.” she says coldly walking away. Rafe gulps and walks up stairs. In his room he strips and sits on his bed looking at his hard cock, fighting the urge to touch it. Downstairs y/n takes her sweet time getting a cup of water and looking out the window some more just to mess with rafe some more. Taking the last sip of water she turns and heads upstairs

Rafes head flies up when he hears his door close, he sees his beautiful girlfriend standing there with a very unhappy look on her face. “Now rafe do you wanna tell me why you're being punished?” she says slowly walking towards him. “I-i dont k-know” he stutters looking down at the ground knowing damn well what he did to deserve this, just not wanting to admit it. y/n grabs his chin forcing him to look at her, he whimpers slightly at the sudden movement. “Oh i think you do rafey” y/n says a smirk playing on her lips. Rafe shakes his head, tears coming to his eyes, and his cock twitching. “Something about me being uh, what'd you say the biggest slut in bed, and letting your friends say that about me?” she hums at the end looking at him. His eyes go wide knowing he has no way out of this.

“Im sorry” rafe whimpers before his hairs being pulled back. “I'm sorry what” she says getting so close to his face he could almost feel her lips on his. “I-im s-sorry m-mommy” he says as a blush rises on his cheeks. She smiles at him and pulls away. “What are you sorry for baby” she asks the man in front of her. “For saying stuff that wasn't true about us, a-and l-letting them talk ab-about you like that” rafe cries, “im so sorry mommy!” he says struggling to look and hold eye contact with the woman.

y/n smiles at him and places a quick kiss on his lips. Pulling away and letting go of his face much more gently than before and instead gripping his rock hard cock, watching as he jumps at the sudden relief. “You've been a very bad boy Rafey” she says slowly stroking his cock making his hips jut up. “Please mommy, I'm sorry” he says before biting his lip. She starts stroking him faster, making him moan and cry. “Mommy can i cum please let me cum. I-ill do anything” he begs the woman as he reaches his climax.

Right as y/n feels him twitch she pulls her hand away making he cry out in frustration. “Oh did you really think I'd let you off that easily?” She laughs at the poor boy “god you're pathetic” she adds, making him turn his face away from her. “Here's what's gonna happen baby.” she starts as she takes off her shirt and shorts, leaving her in her bra and underwear, while he looks at her with hopeful eyes.

“I'm going to touch myself, you're going to watch me” she says, taking off her underwear so slowly just to tease the man. “And if you touch yourself i'll leave you like this, do you understand me baby boy” she unclips her bra letting it slide down her arms exposing her breasts to the needy man.

“Y-yes i understand” he says hypnotized by her breasts to notice he forgot an important word “yes. What” she says standing in front of him. “Yes mommy” he says looking up at her face with pleading eyes. “Good boy,” she says lightly tapping his cheek before getting on the bed, spreading her legs right in front of Rafe so he has a good view. Rafe lets out a loud whimper when he sees how wet she is. Not thinking he reaches out to touch her however his hand gets slapped away as she tsks at him.

Bringing her hand to her core she collects some of her wetness before bringing her hand to his mouth. Rafe wasted no time in taking her fingers into his mouth, sucking the juices off them, while moaning. y/n pulls her fingers out of his warm mouth and brings it back to her core. She moans as she rubs her clit. Rafes cock twitches and he watches his girlfriend finger herself.

When she comes she throws her head back and lets out a loud moan of his name. Causing him to whimper again. “Please mommy it hurts” he begs her as she catches her breath. y/n looks at the pathetic man in front of her. “Hmmm i'm not sure you've earned it yet rafey” she looks at him waiting to see what he says “please let me taste you again mommy please” he begs her just wanting to please her. “Come here sweet boy” she spread her legs again. Putting her leg on his shoulder when he's close enough to her “go ahead please mommy” she encourages after seeing his hesitation.

He wasted no time in leaning down and licking up her slit gathering all her juices,hearing the beautiful girl moan when he reached her clit. Sucking it into his mouth just the way he knows she likes it. y/n runs her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to her and she grinds her hips into his face. Rafe groans looking up at her face. He loves pleasing y/n, he'd do anything to make up for what he did today. He could tell she was close to coming so he shoved two fingers into her wet core to push her over the edge. Hearing her loud moans he caused. He keeps licking and sucking at her until he feels his hair being pulled back.

Rafes a panting mess when he comes up, looking at her like she's the most beautiful girl in the world, because in his eyes she was. y/n looks down at her boyfriend before chuckling which confuses rafe “you really are impatient huh rafe” when all she gets in return is a more confused look she continues “you like eating my pussy so much you came from humping your bed and making a huge mess” at that he looks down and sees the mess he made before turning bright red and burying his face in y/n´s stomach “i'm sorry mommy i-i didn't mean too i swear” he cries scared shes gonna be even more mad and punish him more. Though y/n can tell that he's actually scared and upset so she's not going to keep going…. Tonight anyway.

She shushes Rafe while rubbing his head “it's okay, you're okay sweetheart.” when she tries to get up he holds onto her tighter “I'm not going anywhere my love, i'm just getting stuff to clean you up okay?” She asks him to which he nods and reluctantly lets go of her.

y/n goes to the bathroom getting a washcloth wet after using the bathroom. When she leaves the bathroom she sees rafe hugging his pillow like how he was just holding her and smiles. “Okay love can you roll over for me” she asks rubbing his back, once he does she says “i'm just gonna wipe you down okay? That's it, we're all done for tonight” he nods at her with a small smile on his lips.

Once he's all clean y/n changes the blankets on the bed and gets a pair of boxers for Rafe to put on, and herself one of his shirts and her underwear.

Crawling into bed with rafe he grabs onto her and puts his head on her chest “thank you mommy” y/n rubs the back of his neck “not mommy right now my love. Were all done for right now” she kisses his head. y/n does bother telling him they'll continue this later.

“I love you y/n” Rafe mumbles quietly

“I love you too Rafey” she says, kissing his head again before they both drift off to sleep.

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kirimoochi · 10 months

Text

pearl jewelry.

₊˚ ᗢ mermaid! kazuha x gn!reader.

⤷ when his attempts at a marriage proposal flies over your head.

⤷notes; based on this thread.

Mermaid! Kazuha, who thinks that it’s been more than enough time to pop the question for you.

He has consulted his other friends about the process. This was his first marriage proposal, and he certainly wasn’t going to want something similar to everyone else. Yoimiya suggests that he offer you a pearl necklace, so that you may never lose it. He pouts at the idea, saying that it was tradition for humans to give each other rings and that perhaps you would want a more normal proposal. The bubble quickly popped when Gorou clarifies the notion by saying: “If they wore a ring, what if they go off to fight? What if they lose it? It’s better to give them a necklace so it stays on longer!”

And so he makes it his absolute mission to get you the best of the best. He searches the bottom of the sea for weeks while you were traveling Mondstadt. He even made sure that it was approved by Kokomi to have the roundest shape. He wasn’t going to give you just any pearl! It would be an insult to his culture if he were to give you something so half-baked.

It’s been nearly a year since the two of you met. And your routine hasn’t changed much for the most part. You still come to the shores to see your favorite platinum-haired boy, and he would come back to you with the same smiling face you’ve grown to adore. Although you’ve long traveled the seas, visiting places like Liyue and Sumeru, you end up coming back to visit Watatsumi Island to see him. No matter how far you may be, or how dry the lands are, his memory remains fresh like salt water.

You’ve been teased on many occasions by Beidou. She comments that you’ve been staring off into the sea a lot more than usual, perhaps too much with that lovesick look in your eyes. You try to brush it off by saying you were merely friends, tied and bound together by your love for travel. Though she begs to differ. That expression was much like her own, and she too has been infatuated by the strange, mystical creature of the sea. At last, she leaves you alone when you wish to depart the Alcor.

Stepping onto Watatsumi Island, you make your way to your favorite spot. Tucked in hand was another book that you bought from a bookstore in Mondstadt. It was about the history of grilled fish, and you thought Kazuha might like it. It was rather simple, but you figured that he might appreciate it a little more if it was something that reminded you of him. He was sort of one big fish after all. One that liked to jump into your arms more often than not, leading to the two of you being covered in sand.

To your surprise, Kazuha was sitting on a rock, already waiting for your arrival. He fiddled with something in his hands, his face looking quite nervous and shy. You smiled as you approached the man, sitting down next to him as you stared off into the horizon. You both share a conversation about your recent travels and how beautiful the nation of Mondstadt was, from their windmills to the sound of birds singing, it was nothing short of lovely. Though you would let slip that instead of listening to the drunken bard at Angel’s Share, you loved to listen to Kazuha’s singing.

At this comment, he blushed profusely. He shakes his head in denial but you know him too well to see that he was rather flattered. Finally gaining enough courage to show you what was hidden in his hand for the longest time. He opens a clam, revealing to you a neatly tied pearl on strings. It shined underneath the sun and you found yourself rather captivated. Smiling, you allowed him to wrap it around your neck, the pearl settling neatly on your collarbone. Pressing your fingers against it, you feel those same butterflies jitter in your stomach.

“This is the nicest gift you’ve given me so far,” You giggle, bringing your knees close to your chest, “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s a lot more than that,” He whispers, leaning his head against your shoulder as he lets out a deep breath.

He’s been planning this moment for months and everything seemed to go by so quickly. You accepted it so easily that it made him wonder if you even knew the implications behind this gift. While he has given you more pearls in the past, there was nothing more special than how perfect this specific one was. It takes a lot of dedication and time. You would only give something like this to someone you wish to marry, so for you to accept it so easily…

He snaps his head up at you, looking at you with a confused expression.

“Kazuha?”

“Do you… know what this means?”

You raise your eyebrow. Were you missing something? The gift was lovely, especially when he offered it to you in such a romantic way. It sort of makes your gift for him a lot more lame. You blink several times, unsure of what to say at the moment. So silence fills the air.

It takes a few moments for everything to click in your head. This necklace must be extremely special. Was it something regarding mermaid culture? You were certainly unfamiliar with the ways of life for him, and the only time you’ve learned much was from Beidou. "That woman I was talking to you about," She started, looking out at the grand ocean, "She used to gift me a lot of pearl necklaces. I didn't understand the sentiment until she told me that it was her way of asking me to be hers," The captain grinned, "Do you think Kazuha would give you something like that?"

Was it a proposal? You stare back at him with a surprised look. He suddenly raises his hand, covering the lower half of his face with his webbed fingers. His cheeks are as bright as apples, and his ears were red. He was embarrassed that he had to spell it out for you in your human language.

“Do you think I’d give something like this to just anyone?” He murmurs, shyly peeking at your eyes. You tighten your hold on the book in your hands, your breath hitching at the sight.

“You wound me, Starling. This is… our equivalent of marriage. So please treat my heart kindly.”

trying out a new format for writing small ideas that sort of feel like fics but aren't super long! i just had to write this one and post it because it's gonna be stuck in my mind if i dont!!

thanks to @maehemthemisfit for the idea ♡♡

#₊˚ ᗢ kirimoochi #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha kaedehara x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin headcanons

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