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dabisbratz · 5 months

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𝒮𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒯 𝒯𝒪𝒪𝒯𝐻 — shouta aizawa x male reader

w.c: 12.4k

warning: dbf!shouta, age gap, (sho in his early 40s, reader is 23), bottom!reader, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, feminization, mentions of gettin ‘knocked up’ regardless of anatomy, sneaking around, creampie, unprotected sex ( wear condoms ! ), praise/degradation, brat!reader, jealousy, mutual teasing, reader has an oral fixation, improper use of lollipops, mentions of exhibitionism, blowjobs, cumming untouched/hands free orgasm, ‘ taboo ’

sonny says..: not proof read, msorry !! did lotsa jumpin around while writin this. . . n five months later !! she’s all done !! ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝T ˘ T⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ ♡ m’a lil rusty, forgive me !!

You’re back home for the summer.

Well— not entirely. You’re back at your family’s summer house for the season. Gifted from your grandparents, it teeters at the beginning of a beach, crystal sands and clear, blue waters that stretch out into the horizon. You’ve been looking forward to it since you’d graduated, even if it did come with a set of overbearing parents and a sinful amount of sunscreen.

The air is hot and thick, sticking uncomfortably to your skin through the windshield as you watch an everlasting stretch of greenery and trees pass you by. The road has stretched on for miles, every upcoming exit and street sign blending into one as each hour passes by. You’ve got the company of staticky radio stations and news outlets, spewing something nonsensical about sports, politics, car insurance. . . But it’s the trip you enjoy more than the destination. Traffic and all, you prefer it over the muggy air and parental scolding. Though, the beach is nice. . .

“You’re sure you’re taking the right route?” It’s your mother speaking, her voice crackling through the speakers of your car. You’re sure she’d smack you upside the head for the aggressive roll of your eyes in her. . . general direction, but she’s not exactly within eye-contact distance. Not for another five minutes, anyway.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” You have— it’s true. Though you’re only twenty-two, you’d driven this distance since you’d left for college. There’s a sound akin to the sucking of teeth through the radio, and you have half the mind to turn around and restart your road-trip all over again.

“Why’s there so much attitude in your voice?” Her cheerful, smiley voice suddenly sounds much more shrill, to your chagrin. You thrum your fingers along the leather of the steering wheel, biting back a long, drawn out groan.

“There isn’t any,” Gravel crackles under the weight of your rubber-tire car, snapping and popping into the air as it makes a smooth halt into the driveway. Shifting gears to park, the radio switches off with the twist of your keys. And, perhaps with more force than necessary, you’re slamming the door to your car and face to face with your mother. Her phone is still in hand, eyebrows pinched at the thought of her very own son hanging up on her. “. . . attitude, Ma.”

She hugs you with a squeal, ushering you up the stairs to your childhood ‘home.’ It’s almost exactly like you’d left it— save for a few recent porch decorations and repainted walls. You hope the years have been kind to it, with the irregular weather and constant pipe problems. Floorboards creak under your weight, welcoming you home after a few long years of studies. There’s an everlasting stream of bubbly speech behind you, your mom speaking, but there’s already so much to take in.

The air is fresh and salty, hints of beachy winds flowing upstream through the doorway. It smells like home, and looks like it too, as you situate your small duffel bag by the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Your room. You hadn’t packed much— there was still a dresser overflowing with old clothes in your bedroom, after all. And now that you think about it, you should probably change into something more fitting for the weather.

“I know you just got here,” The sound of ice swirling against glass catches your attention, and you turn to face your mother. “But could you bring these out to your father?” She’s holding a tray of decorative glasses— or at least, you’d always thought they were— full of oblong ice and freshly squeezed lemonade. The glasses are stocky enough to adorn lollipops— one each, which are probably sickeningly sour. Topped with tiny, colorful umbrellas and intricate swirling straws. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone, with the way she’s put so much effort into the drink’s presentation.

Your lips curl to form a playful ‘no’, a boyish smile pulling at your cheeks when she huffs— as if she already knows what you’re about to do. So you shake your head instead, stealing the tray with one hand, “Let me change first.”

In hindsight, wearing clothes about. . four years too small wasn’t a great idea. The shorts that once fit you perfectly— before your growth spurt— are now much too short, like they’ve been tossed around in the laundry one too many times. You feel almost naked, moving the pink hem down with the shake of your legs.

Your mother insists they look just fine, a dramatic downturn to her lips as she rambles on and on about how fast her boy has grown up. Still, as you walk through the sliding glass doors parallel to the open patio, the sunlight bathing your legs does nothing but make you feel stuck under a rapidly growing spotlight.

It all clicks as you walk outside— the detailed drinks, the smell of barbecue and fresh coal. There is someone she’s trying to impress, someone other than your father. Maybe both of them. On a good day.

Wiping the bead of sweat from your brow, your eyes squint at the man in front of you. Around your dad’s age— maybe slightly younger, he stands at a whopping six foot something. There’s age in his face, and worry between his brows as if he’d spent most of his youth grimacing. His hair is long and black like charcoal, save for a few streaks of gray and a salt and pepper ensemble of stubble littering his chin and jaw. Two scars— forming a cross of sorts, one beneath his right eye, horizontal and thin. But the other is much longer, starting below his brow and ending at his cheekbone. It draws your eyes to a milky gray iris— heavily contrasting against the natural black-brown of his left one. It’s pretty, cloudy and almost pearlescent.

His silhouette— tall and thick, with broad shoulders that travel on and on as he crosses thick biceps over his thick chest. He’s standing in the way of the sun, and yet, it peeks through his long hair in small, short leaks. And, surprisingly, his waist is small in his black tank top. If you feel hot he must be scorching, draped in black— down to the beaded bracelet adorning his wrist. His hands— they’re big, maybe enough to cover the entirety of your face, curled into loose fists at his biceps.

And— right, you’re here to help, not gawk. But you can’t help it, shifting your weight from one leg to another as his intimidating gaze slowly sweeps you over. He’s like sex on legs, and if you can squint enough to get the sun out your eyes, you swear you can see the imprint of his cock through his black shorts.

“Uh,” You blink dumbly after introducing yourself, and suddenly the tray you’re holding is weightless. “Ma made these. I’m supposed to help. . . or something. . .”

“Or something.” The man echoes, but it’s quiet and you barely catch it. His voice is deep, way deeper than your own, rumbling in your ears and smooth like butter. Almost husky, with a dark edge to it as flames roar in his face. But it makes your father laugh, hearty and jubilant as he bounces over to where you stand. He gives you a small pat on the back as a greeting, ushering out a small, “son.”

The heat emitting off the grill is enough to make a grown man cry, but neither of you wince when you walk by it. Cold glasses of lemonade are handed out, fingers imprinted on cold condensation painting the surfaces of each glass as they’re passed around— one for you, one for your dad, another for him. You watch rivulets of water drip from his fingertips, down his wrist, past the collection of veins adorning his forearm.

“Mr. Aizawa,” There’s a beat of silence, but it’s quickly filled once you’ve been introduced. “World’s cruelest teacher.”

“Shouta Aizawa.” Is all he says, a correction of sorts, voice grumbly as his fingertips brush against your knuckles. Your eyes flicker down to where he’d touched you, his skin warm and inviting despite the roughness of his palms. You see now, that he’s accompanying your father, occasionally taking over when he walks back into the house every. . . five minutes or so.

“An old friend of mine, we go way back.” Your parents have an odd habit of rambling, it seems, because you and the handsome stranger make exasperated eye contact as your dad begins to reminisce on old memories. “You met him a few times— remember? He’ll be staying with us, so be respectful, you hear me?” His gaze seems to dip for a moment, down your lips and straight to the extra exposed skin of your thighs, then settle back to the ocean before you can comment.

But those five minutes must start now, because after a firm squeeze to your shoulder your father heads inside, leaving you alone with his. . . friend. He’s awfully quiet, busying himself as the patio door slides shut— occasionally sighing as he wipes away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. It’s obvious you’re staring, maybe a bit too hard, but he’s the best scene around, really. Even with the beach right behind him.

And maybe it’s wrong to think this way— but he’s hot. Old enough to be your dad and then some, sure, but it doesn’t make him any less attractive. He almost makes you nervous, the slow blink of his eyes as he pays you no mind.

“So you’re staying with us, huh?” You eye the juicy meat he’s been flipping for the last five minutes, golden brown and sizzling in the heat. It’s rather thick, soon to be lazily flattened by the tongs he's holding and— you can’t help but wonder. . . Is he good with his hands?

“Don’t make a habit of asking strange old men questions like that.” It’s not entirely clear if he’s serious or not, but he’s certainly assertive. Like a firm, guiding hand placed at the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, but before you can ask what he means, it clicks. You’d said it out loud, let it float into the air like an everyday, casual question. But Aizawa doesn’t seem exactly bothered, more passive (if anything), as he takes a swig of the fruity, sour concoction.

“You’re not strange.” Is what you conclude, slamming the tray down hard enough to rattle its contents, and the man notes your lack of regard. Even with a slight spill you don’t bother to clean, you’re already turning to walk off the patio and dig your toes into the hot sand before it can be mentioned— but not without plucking a lemon coated lollipop free from its icy enclosure of glass. There’s an arrangement of seashells hidden beneath the coarse mounds of the glimmering seaside. Different sizes and colors, different textures and shapes. Where some would scrape the soles of your feet, others would glide across them. But as a kid you’d liked the search for tiny crabs much more than the search for shells. Though you’re much older now, you’re not afraid to say you miss it.

“But I’m old?” Aizawa says, not too far behind you from where he stands. There’s a light glint of dry humor in his voice that sends butterflies down your throat and straight into your stomach.

“Yeah. Old enough.” Your small laughter is sweet, dancing in the air in a way that has Shouta nearly pressing his palm flat into the skillet— just to check if his heart is still beating. What do you mean by that, anyway?

There’s a divot where the tightness of your shorts dip into your skin, pressing against the plush skin of your ass whenever you bend over. Even as you’re upright, Shouta can’t stand to look for too long— you’re a real, proper, honest and genuine distraction. Yet here he is, watching you move around on your hands and knees, ass taut and round— shorts tight enough to show off the cute bulge of your balls from behind. And now that he’s really looking, it’s obvious you’re not wearing anything underneath.

He shakes his head, grunting to himself as he peels processed cheese free from its plastic packaging. You just met, that’s not right, you’re simply just minding your own.

“Ugh!” You share a groan, and for completely different reasons. Aizawa can’t help but watch you scramble in the sand, presumably after whatever sea-creature that had the pleasure to pinch you right on the finger. But you seem happy once it’s retrieved, stuck in the seclusion of its tiny shell as you hold it in your palm. From what he can see, you’re not much of a brat at all. Maybe your parents are just too hard on you. He’s always known them to be dramatics.

Still, he has half the mind to drag you over by your ankle, or maybe to press your handsome face into the sand while he fucks you from behind. Ever since you’d brought out that damned lemonade— tugging on the hem of the fabric as if you’d suddenly grown conscious of just how short they were— he’d been hard. And now he has to listen to you grunt and groan over the smallest of injuries. . . His best friend’s son, his presumed pride and joy.

He’s fucked.

From where he stands, slightly elevated, he can see the bulge of the sweet protruding from your cheeks, stuck afore your teeth. Cute, as it swishes from side to side, stuck in your mouth as your occupied fingers caress the diaphanous shell in the palm of your hand. Your lips move, puckered, around the sucker, curled and glossy with molten sugar— it’s hard to make out exactly what words your mouth forms, yet Shouta doesn’t think he’d be able to listen anyway.

Turns out the creature was a hermit crab.

Shouta learns this at dinner, the day’s hard work shared on plastic platters and glass

bottles in the middle of the beach. There’s a roaring flame between the four of you, it casts golden embers along your skin every so often, crackling into the air. Cicadas chirp with the night’s welcome, loud and joyful in retaliation to the silent, serene fireflies and settling ocean.

You’re all sipping on beers, some more than others, but it’s enough to loosen everyone up. Even Shouta, whose eyes look lidded with sleep the more he drinks. He’s not incoherent, he never is. If anything he’s observant. For one, you have an awful habit of holding onto this evening’s lollipop, it seems, as you have it situated between your fingers like a cigarette. Sometimes your grip around it tightens, like when your mother wraps her hand around his bicep, squeezing the flesh in small, sporadic rounds. And though neither of you want to say it, let alone think it— you’re jealous. That’s the second thing.

Even with Shouta’s knee brushing against your own, you can’t help it. He’s so warm, muscly legs pressed against your own in a manner that’s almost electrifying. You want it all to yourself, to suffocate in his heat and capable hands.

You zone out of the conversation, blinking at the fire with reserved eyes until a thick screwer pokes at the flesh of your shoulder, leaving behind a tiny dimple. Jet black hair invades your vision for a moment, smelling of faint seasalt and warm cologne, until you turn, “What?”

“You want chocolate on your marshmallow, right?” Your mother asks for him, squeezing a transparent bag of thick, soft marshmallows. It’s tossed to you in a flash, to which you catch, but not before stealing a glance at the man beside you. His jaw sets, poking out from the mass of stubble. Like she’d stolen a precious moment away.

“Right,” You mumble, stabbing the skewer through the excessive amount of sugar. The stick hovers above the fire, the sweet melting to a crisp, flaky brown. Sticky and gooey, it slowly begins to lose its form. Through all the conversation you can’t help but glance at the older man to your left, taking in the glow of yellow and orange caressing his tan skin. His silhouette is bold and broad, legs spread wide as he sits on a thick log. What was once brown turns a deep, dark charcoal. “Oh, shit! Fuck. I meant shoot, sorry.”

You’re not supposed to swear in front of your parents— Aizawa’s paternal intuition picks that up. But shoving the marshmallow into your mouth, even as it has yet to cool down, he doesn’t quite get. Either way, your expression. . . it’s sickeningly cute. It’s cute to watch you fumble. With lips pursed into a tight line, cheeks bitten and eyebrows pinched with apology despite how obviously uncomfortable you are with the piping, burnt sugar spreading along your tongue.

His heart could almost burst.

“You’re fine, kid.” Shouta’s voice is a gentle whisper, airy like the waves brushing against the shore. With his eyes caught on the sticky white lingering on your cheek, he's desperately aware you’re not a kid. The way you move and speak, the way you carry yourself. The way you suck on lollipops like they’re something else. He’s never been one for dirty jokes or subtle innuendos but. . . yeah, this is doing something to him. His fingers twitch with want, the desire to wipe it away and rub his thumb along your lips. He should really get it together.

And maybe the fact that he’s more worried about your parents being in the way than the fact that they’re your parents proves that.

But they’re pretty preoccupied, lost in conversation neither of you are exactly interested in. Whirling his own marshmallow, chocolate melts down its fluffy outside. It’s steaming, hot and fluffy after twirling around the fire. Looking at it now, it looks comically small in his large hands, much bigger than your own. His lips part, cool air leaving the ‘o’ shaped mold of his mouth as he blows on it with a low, “Here.”

There they go again, mouth open as your pink tongue covers your row of bottom teeth, Shouta doesn’t let go of the skewer despite the light squeezes you press along his knuckles. Instead he holds on tighter, lifting and reaching until the desert melts in your mouth and sticks to your lips. Messy on purpose, your heart plummets into your tummy when dark eyes watch marshmallow fluff pull away from between your teeth. Hungry, starving.

“I can do it myself.” You mumble, wondering if the heat prickling your skin is from the brush of his fingers against your own or the wilting fire.

“Can you?” His expression is tired and flat, but his voice tilts with blooming amusement. It’s odd, the way you’re so quick to shut him down. You almost respond more openly when you hear sneaky comments or listen to gossip— ‘that boy just doesn’t know what to stop,’ ‘why’s he such a smartass?’ — spoken about you directly by you.

“Yeah,” There’s a shine in your eye that isn’t just a product of the glowing fire. Mischievous, almost. “I don’t break that easily.”

Shouta could definitely take your dad in a fight. It’s the first thing that pops into mind as the two of you stand in the dark, dimly lit kitchen. Your parents had gone off to bed almost an hour ago, and with the clock approaching half past midnight, it leaves you two alone. So, yes, he’s considering who would win in a brawl because he can’t stop staring at his best friend’s son and his pretty, kissable lips.

They’re sheen with spit, your pink tongue licking them over as you scrub away yesterday’s dirt from the kitchen counter. It’s a noncommittal motion, your arms wiping suds and heavy contents of water along the granite surface. Yet you seem absolutely dead-set on getting that one stain. The stain that has your ass brushing against his side, bare skin rippling the harder, lazier, you scrub. Not that there’s even a stain to clean.

Yep. He’s fucked.

You suppose he should be focusing on the dishes— not that there’s much of those either— but his attention strays.

It carries him through the motion of leaning over, his body practically draping your own as you bend at the waist. Black hair again, wisps of it, lightly pressed against your back as he leans down, lips by the shell of your ear and an arm trapping you in. His cock is pressed right against the swell of your ass, and he may have to consider slipping it between his waistband.

“I think you got it.”

“Oh, really?” Your hips are moving again, side to side as you scrub shapes into nothing. “Double check for me?”

A low groan sounds behind you, big hands at your thighs that squeeze enough to have the plush skin bruised and tender in the morning. His hand travels, snaking up your thighs to meet the silky skin of your ass. Spread nicely with the way you’re bent over, warmth radiating off each globe as his thick pointer finger loops around the thin layer of pink cotton pressing against your balls.

It’d be so easy, perfect access to slip his thick cock into the warm, tight walls of your hole and pound you against the counter. You could sit on his dick for the whole day, drooling and dumb the more the head kisses your prostate again and again and again. Your Daddy could fuck you on your dad’s favorite sofa, make it squeal and whine under the weight of him filling your fucked-out and used cunt over and over.

Dark pupils blow wide as he pulls the fabric away, watching your hole flutter around nothing. He coos, sweet and deep. Just give him a minute, he’ll give you everything you need. Everything and more, until you’re a braindead fucktoy with glassy eyes and sticky, dripping holes. Until—

You’ve slipped past his arm, twisting as your growling stomach makes itself known. You inhale a quivering breath through your nose, eyes wide and expecting and waiting. His best friend’s son, wriggling and writhing under his palms, handsome face twisting as pearly teeth bite at your stout bottom lip.

He’s almost frustrated with himself, voice flat and distant when you puff out your cheeks. Forget a distraction— you’re a real, honest brat. “You’re still hungry.”

“I’m a growing man, Sho.” It’s almost consequential how your voice cracks, breathy and teetering the edge of a whine as he releases his grip on your body. Light from the fridge illuminates your silhouette in a yellow, halo-adjacent glow, and once again Shouta is staring a little too hard at his best friend’s son as he bends forward at the waist.

Aizawa weighs the juxtaposition between the middle of that sentence for a moment before his breath catches in your throat. Sho. You’d called him by a nickname, ten times sweeter than the candied fruit (grapes, are they?) you’re now sinking your teeth into. You’ve grown alright, and the proof stands hard, throbbing, and pressing against your shorts once you’ve returned to face him. It’s obvious your ploy with the fruit was just something to keep your mind off cumming in your cute, soft shorts— but he’d honestly have preferred to see that.

“I can see that.”

Rough palms press into your jaw— firm, but not aggressive, until fingers close and clasp at your cheeks. A dissolving layer of baby fat at your cheeks spills between his stern fingers, and you blink as the older man turns your face from left to right, then reverse. Seems he’s got a nasty habit of looking you over, breaking you down— bare bones. You still have enough room to chew, teeth grinding on the crystallized sugar with a hard and resounding crunch.

There’s always something in your mouth.

Dark eyes flicker to the lump appearing and disappearing in your throat as you swallow, sweet sugar dotting your lips, “You’re hard.”

“Yeah,” It earns a dark chuckle, though there’s not much light humor in it, “So are you.” His lips curl as he releases his grip, slow and lingering.

“Usually,” your gaze drops to his lips. “When two men,” Then up to his deep, dark eyes as you press against him, chest to chest. His cock twitches against the heat of your body, you can imagine it now— thick and pretty, curved upward with a sticky head and throbbing, heavy veins. “Make eachother. . . hard, they—”

A door slams upstairs, the air going still as your breath catches in your throat. As if that single disturbance has stolen all the oxygen in the world, your body goes rigid and stiff, and the sound of tired steps make their way descending down wooden stairs. The candied grapes are swapped for thick fingers, with light peppers of hair at the knuckles, and you can’t help but suck the seasalt right off.

“Behave.” He takes a single step back, dripping with indubitable authority that makes you feel light and airy. Ready to bend at his will with lazy eyelids and hazy eyes. It’s not a question, not a suggestion— it’s a demand.

“You’re still up,” Your father, shameless as he walks by the two of you with barely any coverings, makes a sleepy gesture in your general direction as he opens the fridge. “Both of you, huh?” He sounds faintly out of breath, and his skin sheen. The mental implications make you cringe, taking a step toward the characteristically nonchalant man who’d just stepped away from you.

Shouta’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t tell me I’m being replaced!” He’s always been a loud man, your father, but it seems tonight his one-too-many beers have finally caught up to him. It’s just a joke, the both of you know it, but you can’t help the prickle of heat poking at your throat. You’re pulled in by the back of your head, your father’s hand pressed against your hair as he holds you in a firm side-hug, “Rather Mr. Aizawa be your old man?”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Your smile is wide and tantalizing, heavy and dripping with something that has yet to be named. “Are you a good Daddy, Mr. Aizawa?”

Then, his eye twitches, “When I want to be.”

Your laugh is instantaneous and loud, an awkward thing that stretches into deep silence. There’s a lot of things you’d like Mr. Aizawa to be— rough, gentle, sweet, and mean. But your dad? It’s laughable, and couldn’t be farther from the truth. And sure, maybe the title you'd like to use on him sounds similar, but they’re most definitely not the same. If only he knew.

“I’m sure you’re the best,” He watches you smile, opposite ends of your mouth pulling at your cheeks in a motion that doesn’t quite meet your eyes— but it’s convincing enough. “Better than your other friends, right Dad?”

Shouta is avoiding you.

You know it, you can tell! He’s always gone nowadays— a couple weeks into your vacation and you can only count a mere handful of the times you remember seeing him. You’ve barely talked, barely stole a few glances here and there— he may as well have disappeared. He’s out somewhere, somewhere that involves your father, and the ocean, and his generously sized deck-boat. You don’t want to say it, but you know you’re the reason why. You’ve gone a bit overboard, perhaps, with the flirting. Ever since that night— even before then, it’d become a natural habit of yours to call the man Daddy.

And, now, he’s grown even closer to your parents because of it. Whenever you come down for breakfast they’ve already finished, leaving your plate in the microwave— as if you’d want cold, limp eggs and soggy, get charred bacon. You want to scream, really. There’s your mother, who leaves lingering touches and bats her eyelashes like some sort of schoolgirl. You feel almost evil for the rage that sears your blood— even more so when your first thought is she’s pushing fifty.

Then there’s your father. Who is and always will be, not if you can help it, closer to Shouta than you ever will be. They drink together a lot, the guest more in moderation, but it still hurts to see them laugh about old times— over, and over, and over again. Even when you’re the topic of conversation, despite your presence being completely ignored, it hurts. You’re right here.

So you mope, lounging around in your swim trunks. Your skin sticks to every surface, humid and thick as your mother complains to you about getting some sun, stepping out the house, then something about how you need to fix the look on your face. She says the warm rays on your skin will do you some good, the salty water of the sea against your body will toughen up your bones and loosen your muscles. But there’s really only one thing on your mind.

It trickles into about an hour and a half when Mr. Aizawa finally comes back. Your father too, you suppose, with flushed cheeks that only sake can replicate. It’s once you’ve been pulled outside and forced to stand in wet, thick sand that washes away from your feet with every sweep of the shore— that they return. Once the sun has begun to set, yet still bright enough to have your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, they return.

“There’s my boy!” No one’s boy, actually. Your father shouts with an intoxicated wave, and the grimace on Shouta’s face is hidden behind his whipping hair as he slows the boat to a stop.

Or at least, you think so. It’s hard to see with the sun in your eyes, yellow and orange flakes of the gold star percolating your vision.

It dances along the surface of the ocean, pretty and shimmering the closer you step, the further you go, until you’re submerged in water from your knees—down. There’s a shout, something akin to a ‘catch!’, and you have barely any time to react to the ball that’s flying to you with an oddly precise amount of speed and velocity. You gasp, whipping your head back to catch the ball between two sea-soaked hands.

“What the hell?!” Your hands sting, pretty eyes blinking back at the two silhouettes in your vicinity. Mainly at Aizawa, who hasn’t even acknowledged you, let alone looked away from the resplendent horizon. And what’s so good about that? Of all things to look at— you’re right here! You don’t leave with the setting sun, nor do you only ever arrive with the rising one. You’re a constant, and you know you don’t hurt to look at.

So you throw the ball back, all your force behind it with a smug look on your face until it smacks Shouta in the leg— right in the center of his calf with a horrifying thump of a sound.

“Fuck,” You shout in horror, despite it all. Despite the desire to maul him the last few weeks, rushing forward into the water with the cutest tremor to your brows. “Fuck, okay, shit, my bad!”

And it seems you can’t move fast enough to wade through the rippling waves, where schools of tiny, nipping fish and textured shells had twirled and danced about through the currents of pellucid water. But Shouta seems just fine, almost as if he’d forgotten how to react to the feeling of getting punted with a ball at full force. He picks it up, waves it in his large palm, and throws it back. You can hear it tear through the air, just as it smacks you in the shoulder with so much force you don’t register it at first.

Numbness spreads along your arm, eyes blinking up at the older man who laughs. It’s quiet yet hearty, and not at all a pretty sound. It’s more contagious if anything, a wheeze of sorts, but your lips still curl into a petty frown regardless. You can make out a huff of “Your face!” broken up with laughter, biting back on his tongue.

“I’m not laughing.” You grumble, rubbing at your shoulder with faux diligence.

There’s an eerie smile on his face, enough to send shivers down your spine as water drapes your face and drips down your body— boat engine revving with ferocity as the men float off into the boarding dock— Aizawa’s presence arrives just as fast as it leaves.

You’re left to your devices, gawking as you process the last few minutes— his smile, your brattiness and stupidity, the way you’d only just noticed his prosthetic leg— at the mention you can feel miscellaneous fish brush against your own, scales shining through the transparent waters. You can’t help but smile too, wiping it away with the back of your water-draped forearm. Fuck.

It’s only been a month and you’re smitten. He’d left you in favor of your father again, and all you can do is giggle about it.

There’s not much you know about the man— now that you think about it. There’s been a brief drunken mention of him having kids of his own, a little girl, you think. Maybe a son? Despite his affliction for quiet, Aizawa looks as though there’s more he wants to say. To share, to tell. Your father must know it all, seeing as they grew up together, and part of you can’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Hmph.

“What’re you sulking for?” His voice has broken you out of a daydream, turning your body to look him in the eyes. The man of the hour— Shouta. You almost hate how quick you are to melt under his gaze, squaring your shoulders with the stability of poorly glued popsicle sticks.“That ball bounce off your head, too?”

“I’m not sulking.” You watch him walk around the perimeter of the shore, slow and calculating, with his hands balled up in the fabric of his black t-shirt. He pulls it overhead, tummy contracting and biceps rippling— it still manages to catch you by surprise, how much muscle he’s hiding under his baggy clothes. Your brain sets off a symphony of ooh’s and ahh’s, unable to tear your gaze from the light rise and fall of his chest.

Your eyes trail back up, past the bend of his collarbones, up the display of stubble on his throat— he’s staring right at you.

“Uh — I wasn’t. . anyway. . What’re you looking at?”

His lips twitch, briefly pressed together before relaxing as he steps into the cold water. He’s slow, hair rippling just as smooth as the ocean, the further he moves forward. And, despite that, he slowly curls a finger to and fro, as if he’s talking to a small kitten. “C’mere.”

You’re frowning when you trudge forward, hesitance in your step. “Mr. Aizawa,” you grumble, still something of a cute little sound, using the prefix your father introduced him with. Something about it makes Shouta’s frame stiffen— the title, or maybe the pettiness behind it. It’s not like you call him that when you’re in a particularly good mood. “You didn’t seem to want me around earlier.”

“Quiet,” He tuts, clicking his tongue as if he knows the game you’re playing. But despite the curt, clean-cut execution of his tone, his thumb finds your cheek with the same gentleness as a spring breeze. “Your parents were always around earlier.”

Oh.

You play off your surprise well enough, swatting his hand away with a deep grunt. Sure, it feels good. His hands on your skin— such rough palms that cover your body — but you’re not desperate. Not entirely, not even when he fixes the twist of your face with a quick look to your furrowed brows. You settle for a sigh, grumbling, “They don’t have shit to do with me.”

“You’re, what, twenty-five—“

“Twenty three.” You interject, almost proud you can correct him. Rivulets of water trail down your arms, and his gaze seems to follow its motion.

“Twenty three,” He echoes with something of a breathless sigh tilting his voice. For a moment you think it’s the interruption— he’ll work on it later. Maybe he’s been struck by just how much younger you really are. “They have everything to do with you. You’re still their kid, I doubt they’d be enthusiastic about leaving you alone with an older man. A stranger, at that.”

“But they did,” You look around, as if to prove your point. Shouta’s never been one for dramatics, let alone those fueled by snappy attitudes and rolling eyes, but it looks cute on you. Maybe even cuter if it were accompanied by tears. “They left us alone. . . Half naked. . . At a beach. . . Alone..”

“I get it. We’re alone,” Shouta’s voice has always been so deep, rumbly and tired and smooth in your ears but even more so when he’s irritated. “Drop the attitude.” It’s different in a way. Leaves no room for argument, though you still feel the overwhelming need to stomp your foot and keep on pressing. You can’t help the shudder, nor the goosebumps crawling up your thighs. It’s just so fun to push his buttons, to watch his passive face twist for a split second as he processes your words.

It’s not exactly hard when he allows it. Shouta lets you push until your heart’s content, only reprimanding you with a glance or cleared throat— and it’s almost eerie. You can’t help but feel

like you should be anticipating something, even as you stand flush against his thick body in lukewarm ocean water and he looks at you with contentment.

Then it occurs to you. . . He’s letting it build up.

“And you’re not a stranger, Mr. Aizawa.” Obviously you’re softening the blows, so he watches you step forward, arms crossed over his thick, plush chest. You’re just so cute, brushing past his overwhelming seriousness with a smile— albeit sly. He can’t stay mad forever. It’s not fair, how cute you are, with lips stretched out and teeth on display, with the apples of your cheeks rising, and the cutest little twinkle in your eye. He wants to kiss you. . . He wants to kiss you so bad it’s starting to hurt.

Especially when you lean forward, sunlight bouncing off the ocean surface and across your body— painting you in pretty, golden slivers of glow. Across your face, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. It’s been a while since he’s felt his skin against your own. Since he’s run his large, calloused hands along your body.

“What happened to ‘Daddy’?” He asks, absentmindedly.

“What?” You break his trance, looking down at yourself with a hint of something Shouta can’t quite place. Uncertainty, perhaps? Vulnerability, maybe. It’s odd, you usually prance around so confidently. You wear the tiniest— tightest— clothes known to man, have the smartest mouth, egg him on day in and day out.

That’s not it. You look smug. You’re playing him for a damn fool.

“Nothing.” Aizawa sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s wrong— it’s cliché, maybe even taboo. He wants to wipe that look off your face. He wants to kiss his best friend’s son stupid. The man he’d just shared parenting advice to, the man he’d spent years upon years of highschool, college, divorces, with. It’d been so innocent when he’d visit— maybe he should’ve never stopped. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back to see you in full bloom, so handsome and lithe and sweet.

“ ‘Nothing,’ ” You echo, snarky as you mimic the flat, detached tone of Shouta’s voice. If you weren’t sulking before you definitely are now, readying yourself to push past him like some spoiled brat who was just denied their favorite candy after being caught trying to steal it nonetheless. So He holds onto your bicep, squeezing the flesh as it flexes with your feeble attempt at struggling.

“Are you done yet? Or do you need a minute to calm down?” He shifts his weight, voice calm and level as he holds you still despite the straining. Not a single hair on him is out of place, his tranquility almost alarming.

“Let go, old man!” He has to ignore the rush of adrenaline the back and forth gives him— the way he has an incessant urge to squeeze your jaw just a bit tighter.

“Hey,” You watch his lips curl to coo, a tone somewhat akin to a parent shushing a fussy child. Your face is turned to face him directly, “How many times do I have to talk to you?” Then impossibly close as his warm breath pans over the expanse of your face, “What’d I say about the attitude?”

“I don’t care what you say about it.” Your face is squished against his palm as you go to squirm your way out of his hold, but with the way his head angles down toward your face— you can barely get the words to sound convincing. There’s a giggle in your voice, like you think his frustration is amusing.“You like it, don’t you? Forget strange, you’re dirty!”

He’s the only thing keeping you upright, eyes narrowed and lidded, “Stop fuckin’ playing with me, little boy.”

“Dad never lets me drive the boat,” Though the man can sense your whining from miles away, it still manages to catch him off guard. Shouta quirks a brow in questioning, hand hovering a polite foot away from your calf as you stand to walk along the wading boat floor. “Destroyed his last one when I was a kid,” (He doesn’t have to know you were actually nineteen when you did.) You speak in a tone that makes him think just maybe you consider it more your father’s fault than your own. “This one’s nicer anyway.”

“That’s wasteful.” Aizawa bites the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed into a familiar line. Had one of his kids done that it’d be a completely different story. Surely one they wouldn’t be proud of telling either. Through the corner of his eye he watches you dig into the cooler, scrabbling past the beer bottles and iced hennessy, to pull out an ice cream.

“To you,” You spare him a glance before finally plopping down in the passenger’s seat with much more force than necessary— especially when sitting on a boat. “I did him a favor.”

The cooler did a poor job— your ice cream is already melted and soft once it’s unwrapped. Thick, velvety cream that you lap up with your tongue dribbles down your knuckles. He should find it gross, but your pretty eyes flickering upward to meet his own as you take one long, slow lick up each bend of your fingers has done the complete opposite. Fuck. It’s hot— your sticky fingers and messy lips, your pinched brows and tiny, pleased whines.

If only it were his cock.

Shouta’s thick. Much thicker than your ice cream, he’s sure you’d feel a good stretch to your lips if you wrapped them around the head of his cock. You’d probably whine about how hard you have to try, how heavy it is on your tongue— how much it’s stuffing you full when it hasn’t even slid down your throat yet. You’d cry too, maybe, with drool slicking your chin and coating his dick in a pretty, shiny layer of thick saliva.

“Want some?” You lean uncomfortably forward, though your legs are over the arms of your seat and draped across Shouta’s lap. Already close, Shouta can smell the oreo on your tongue and vanilla cream by the corner of your lips. “You’re staring pretty hard.”

“Sit up,” The deflection is an answer in itself, yet the dark-haired man can’t find a reason to look away. “Before you hurt yourself.”

Instead, you take his wrist, thick and decorated with a long vein, to fiddle with his fingers. They’re long— healthy, strong, clipped haphazardly— big. He watches you split his fingers apart, lacing your free hand with his own— and though he remains with all five fingers up, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the urge to close them around your much smaller ones. Shouta clears his throat while you hum, lapping at your ice cream before pressing your lips against his knuckles, “Want you to hurt me instead.”

“Hush,” There’s a sharp intake of breath, dark lashes fluttering as multicolored eyes glance past your shoulder. It’s evident he wants to say more— in the way he shifts his weight to lean outward. “You hardly know me.”

Your foot nudges his upper thigh, pressing into the firm skin as the boat moves further toward the horizon. It feels more secluded that way.. Private, even. As if there’s only the two of you left on the dreamy island. Your face looks a bit exasperated, like you’ve never had to work so hard in your life, and he has to admit it— it’s cute.

“I know you grew up with my dad,” He ignores the venom behind your tongue as you mention your father, letting out a low hum of confirmation. “I know you have two kids— adopted, right?”

“Hitoshi and Eri.” He interjects, voice soft and fond. You’d never noticed it before, but now you’re acutely aware of the gentle presence of breeze and rippling waters. Shouta’s relaxed face is much sweeter, still creased with age but not quite as deep. The cute, pinched dips between his brows are gone, but you know how to bring it back.

“Lucky. Wish you were my Daddy instead,” Aizawa isn’t sure which word he’s more hung up on, nor how it's so easy for you to completely twist his words— but as much as it rushes to his cock, gets him twitching in his pants and throbbing all the way down his heavy shaft— he doesn’t like it. You talk entirely too much. With lips much too sweet and sheen with cream. With a tongue that flicks and presses against your teeth when you smile. With a pretty voice he could listen to, all day. Something that’d sound better through choking and gagging—ragged and crackly and used. Your lashes flutter, soft and gentle against your cheek. “How old is Hitoshi? My age? If he takes after you, then. . .You’re just—“

“Listen to me,” Perhaps it’s not very characteristic of him, but he just can’t stop. Shouta moves without thinking, pressing his fingers into your cheeks until your lips are puckered. “For as long as I’m here,” he offers a squeeze. “For as long as your father is here,” then another, “Turn. It. Off.”

Your face melts into something floaty and distant, the smirk melting right off your face into something much more preferable. His thumb is so close, so close to your pretty lips. You blink once— twice, even— before regressing back into a grin, lips pressing against his long fingers. Fucking brat.

“I’ll just have to hit up Hitoshi sometime, then.”

The persistent comment nearly knocks him over, straight off the boat and plummeting into the cerulean depths of the sea. Instead, Shouta finds it better to step on the gas. . . To ignore the prickling heat in his blood, to ignore the easy taptaptap-ing of your fingers against the screen of your phone. It’s so easy for you to say anything around him— like a deliberate disregard for his reaction. His fingers thrum against the tiller, then wrap around its leather exterior to squeeze, and he doesn’t miss (not even for a second) the glance you give him through the corner of your eye.

The silence is almost painful. The motor speaks for you, loud and rushed and heavy. Aizawa’s jaw sets, clenched at each chiseled edge. His eyebrows furrow deep, angry, and his lips remain tightly shut. You can’t help but stare, watching his hair whip in the wind, dreamy and mellifluous. Not a moment of eye contact is shared, and you feel yourself slinking back into the white leather of your chair for the first time this evening.

Come the wooden dock just adjacent to the shoreline, Shouta’s throwing away wrappers (they’re all yours) and unbuckling his seatbelt. Your arms cross, a pout heavy in your lips as your eyes flutter closed. . Almost as if you being unable to see him makes him unable to see you.

“C’mon, baby.” You both miss the nickname, and despite the tension, it feels so natural dripping from his tongue.

Still, you whine. Mind occupied by your nearly offset tantrum prior to getting back at the dock. “I’m staying outside.”

“You’ll get heatstroke.” Shouta sighs, stepping back to lift you into his arms not even a moment later. You consider it ironic, for a moment, he always wears black despite the scorching heat. Bent at the waist as he leans over the open inside of the boat to unbuckle your seatbelt, his face remains stoic as your arms flail and fly to push him away. Your pretty face morphs into a nasty scowl, grumbles and mumbles toppling from your lips— you’re embarrassed.

He sets you down on the creaking wood, hands placed steady at your waist and shoulder to keep you upright— in your feeble attempt at escapism, your last result was simply going limp.

You just won’t budge, standing planted at the end of the dock despite the tugs to your biceps, forearm— hands, wrists. Your last attempt at pushing him away ends up in stumbles, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stomp down the polished dock, eyes hardening with the contact of deep, dark pools in Aizawa’s irises.

You were holding hands.

It’s been days. You haven’t left your room in days. At first, Shouta doesn’t worry. He doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t question why you don’t come downstairs. When he asks your parents about it it’s always the same thing— ‘That’s just how he is when he doesn’t get his way,’ or ‘He’ll come around.’ The more he asks, the mode suspicion, More questions, mostly wondering why he’s so enamored by their son— even if he had been closer to you when you were younger. But that was long ago, and you hardly remember.

And that isn’t even it.

He starts to worry, to feel bad, on day six. Not a single sound that even points to your presence. No creaking floorboards, no music playing from your old, antique and overpriced record player, no sounds of muffled laughter. It makes him feel out of his skin, like a bystander watching the inhabitants of this very beach house go about their day like nothing is wrong. But this wrong, so very wrong—

He wants you. His boy, his brat, his best friend’s son. It’s wrong and it’s taboo, but so help him, he yearns.

His feet had carried himself upstairs before his mind could, following after you a good half-hour later. You heard him on his way in, the shuffle of his slipper-clad feet from the outside of your door. Still, you’d made no effort to move, no effort to free yourself from the cocoon of your childhood blankets, no effort to open the door despite his gentle knocking.

“You ready to talk yet?” He was willing to brush it all aside. The pushing, the persistent flirting, the slight disregard for his feelings, the mentions of his son. Really, he was jealous. Maybe it’s unsavory for him to admit, maybe he shouldn’t think of his son as competition. And he knows, of course, there’s nothing there— he’s only ever competing with himself. He just can’t help it.

Maybe he’s a bit spoiled too.

“I don’t like being ignored.” Your voice was small, but he could still hear it through the door. He heard it all, every implication. His sweet boy, his spoiled brat. You froze, just briefly, before he let himself in. The door creaked slowly with its open and close, a gentle click of the lock as the air grew thick.

Your old bed is small and creaky. Almost as much as the underused floorboards, your old bedroom screams with just as much personality as it does neglect. There’s tiny figurines, posters, awards, memorabilia— but it’s all too clean. Even if it has collected dust, not a thing is out of place. Pristine. There’s a few scattered photos— awkward haircuts, familial pets, the works. . Unapologetically you, maybe when you were just a tad bit more naive— but you nonetheless. It even smells like you, just with a hint of sea salt and warm, summer-y vanilla. Shouta wants to bury his nose in it.

“None of my fancy college boyfriends liked it here, Maybe ‘Toshi would.” You shift your weight as Shouta sits at the edge of your bed, the springy mattress creaking ever so slightly. There’s something left unsaid between the small string of words— and it’s sour. Twists on Shouta’s tongue, like he’s bitten into old bread, and it’s not just the mention of past boyfriends. Sure, that’s not exactly what he’d call this. . . relationship, but it’s not like it’d feel wrong. And he’d certainly feel bitter if his son were in his shoes. “Guess my sheets weren’t silky enough. Can tell you what was, th—”

“I like it.” It’s simple. The admission— simple and sweet, like it’s obvious. Shouta watches your lips part for a moment, just to close again, like a fish out of water. You look so small when you’re caught off guard, glancing to the side and shifting your weight onto your palms as you sit in the comfy middle of your bed. He knows what you’re doing— redirecting the conversation by flirting (it does get his heart beating, he’ll admit it)— and it makes you seem softer, almost.

He watches you sniffle for a moment, a quiet sound as you shift your knees with exuberating coyness. Your eyebrows furrow, cheeks puffed into a pout because, “That's it? You just ‘ like ’ it?”

He’ll give it to you, you never give up. He’d been warned, he was skeptical, and he’s been proven wrong. And, in the brunette’s head, you’d tallied over three strikes. Perhaps he was being too lenient. And now, Shouta, the weak man that he is, simply wants to indulge.

“What else would I say?”

“That it’s nice,” You cock your head to the side. “That you’ve never seen a room so nice. Which m’sure is true, anyway. . Are you low income, Sho? I can’t imagine what it’s like being a single father of two— or one, since Hitoshi moved out forever ago.”

The older man takes a breath through his nose, and out through his mouth. Pretty irises flicker down to meet the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, like the tidal wave of emotion has washed away back into shore, his voice is level as he speaks, “You spoke to him.”

“You ignored me,” You say it as if it’s obvious, simple, that if you can’t have Shouta you’ll have to settle for the next best thing. And though it’s not entirely true, you only really stalked his social media to learn more about his father, you don’t think your heart can stomach seeing pride swell in Aizawa’s chest. “Wanted your attention, Daddy.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, cold air rattling the bones as he watches you stare up at him. Your eyes look softer, boyish, wider at this angle. His pink tongue darts over his equally pink lips, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

“Shh, sh, sh,” Shouta’s cock slips down your throat with a low grunt, the slippery walls clench around the fat head of his cock. Just as he imagined it, cutting off pretty whines and gasps, head bobbing back and forth— like you can’t tell whether it’s too much or too little. There’s a slight burn— the stretch of his thick, sticky cock nestled against your throat— but it feels good, heavy and throbbing in a way that makes your brain shut off so quickly you drool. It sticks to his shaft and slides down his balls, painting your chin in a syrupy-sweet layer of saliva, but you’re too far gone to wipe it away. Such a good boy.

He must’ve said it aloud, because there you are nodding, lazily bobbing your head as he grinds in and out of your mouth. There’s a loud, sticky sound coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, obscene in a way that makes you whimper around your heavy mouthful of cock. He’s quick to correct himself— you only ever seem to behave when you’re stuffed with his dick, and he can’t have you thinking your behavior is acceptable. With a grunt, deep and velvety, Aizawa pushes deeper into your mouth until you gag— tight throat convulsing and quivering around his shaft.

You slurp loudly, choking and gasping as you struggle to pull back. His balls hit your chin, heavy and sticky and so fucking good as tears stream down your face. You’re starting to get into it now, making a mess of yourself as you stick out your tongue to lick along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, eyes focused on the rings of saliva holding you together. Shouta pulls out to let you breathe, his cock quickly liding upupup your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit as you chase after what you’ve been wanting for the past month.

“Stop fuckin’ moving. Let Daddy use your throat, wanna hear you cry on it,” The bulge of his fat cock shows in your throat, in and out, in and out, in and out.

You want to whine, to beat your fists against his thighs, and kick your feet— it’s all so much. He has you by the hair, big hand pulling and tugging, lifting you on and off his cock like a warm, tight fleshlight. You fail to bite back a growl, though it emits more as a cute, pathetic sound, glassy eyes focused on his cock being shoved down your hot, wet throat. It’s so easy to press your lips against the darkness of his pubes, to smear pre along your pouty lips and cheeks. His cock jumps in your mouth, thick and long and curved, leaking at the tip.

It’s hard to adjust to the stretch, sputtering and gagging with such cute, greedy sounds. You’re getting ahead of yourself, eager, tongue lapping at the achy underside of his dick, pressed against his balls. And, with a gasp, Shouta pulls out, huffs and unintelligible groans filling the air. The blushing head of his cock taps against your cheek. Once, twice, again and again. “C’mere.”

And yet, despite all that bark, your eyes barely make contact with the ones above you. Instead they trace the pulse of his shaft, how heavy his cock hangs between his legs, how it makes his long fingers almost smaller in comparison. The way pre dribbles from the tip, sticky and warm and oh, so inviting. It’s as if he can read your mind, knows how badly you miss the weight of his thick cock stretching your throat, “You can do better than that," and you almost can't believe it.

Better? Your eyes flicker to the saliva dripping from your chin, suddenly aware of the slick pre smeared across your pretty cheeks and the heavy pants leaving your lips. What gets better than this? You let him use your throat like a new fleshlight, cried on his cock and muffled the sounds in his pubes. Ignored the aching of your own cock just to focus on his own, absentmindedly bucking your hips into nothing, even if it made you look like a pathetic puppy. Fine— you can show him better. You can break him first.

You blink rapidly, tears clumped in your pretty eyelashes, lips parting to, indubitably, sass the older man. “What, need help gettin’ it up? Fuck you, can do it m—”

Prideful boy. Shouta will have to fix that.

“— I wasn’t asking.” You really fucked up now, eyes wide as you’re lifted up by your throat and manhandled into Shouta’s strong arms. He smells good, and just as strong, as your face is pressed into his chest and your tiny, tiny shorts are pushed past your thighs. The air is cold, it spreads goosebumps along your skin, and you’re sure Shouta can feel them along his palm as he grabs handfuls of your ass. He ignores your off guard ‘Hey! I wasn’t done!’, ignores the squirm of your waist, ignores your poor, weeping cock.

Being the smooth, calculated man that he is, you’d expect Aizawa to put a rhythm and pace to his spankings. But no, there’s nothing for you to latch onto but the bundles of his hair as he hands out sporadic, random, and hard smacks along each globe of your ass. There is no back and forth, no favoring one over the other— it’s just where he wants, when he wants. If he wants to watch your thighs convulse and jiggle beneath his heavy palm he will, and if he wants to smack your hands away from his wrists as you tug and tug— he will.

Shouta groans when you let out a particularly pathetic cry, biting your lip and whimpering into his warm skin. You can feel his big hands part your cheeks, squeezing the skin until it spills over each finger and your ass has turned tender and sensitive. He coos, feeling you squirm and wriggle against his hold, “S’it too much? Daddy’s poor baby.”

It shouldn’t sound so sweet coming from his lips, even when it’s condescending and rough, even when he’s cracking his palm down again and again despite your kicks and squeals.

But it does.

“Da—ddy. . !” your voice quivers, hips rocking to an uncoordinated tune. So little contact and yet it feels like so much, his hot palms against your warm skin. . . The tears rolling down your darling face. . . The way your cock throbs against your tummy, your mouth aches with emptiness, your hole twitches beneath the weight of his fingers. The thought makes you want to whine all over again, body squirming and trembling as he holds and kneads the flesh of your ass.

“Quiet. I should shove my fingers down your throat to shut you up,” Shouta murmurs, so unnecessarily mean, kissing the dampness of your forehead before his hand cracks down against your plush ass three, four, five more times. You try to keep up your resolve, pretty legs trembling and knuckles clenching— but it’s just so hard. Being a brat is easy— it’s fun— you’ll give up a few tears, cry and pout, get your way. Easy. So you won’t break and give him what he wants. He’ll have to work for it, get a taste of his own mean, mean medicine.

Delayed gratification.

Wet llips open to speak, something smug and almost smart, but it’s reduced to a wet moan. You feel it—fingers spreading apart the globes of your ass, and more cracking down between them, on your empty, pretty little hole. For a moment your brain slips out of your body, thoughts static and turned to mush, fuzzy and convulsing where you lay. You process the sound of hushing, the feeling of wetness, the sound of slick spit against your skin. . . Thick, merciless fingers rubbing and tapping and sliding against you.

“Oh, god,” You sob, eyes fluttering shut and eyebrows pinching the second more pressure builds and— oh, a finger slips inside. “Fingers— that’s, oh god..” Inching in slowly, rubbing against your velvety walls and so fucking slick you’re beginning to see stars. Whatever you had your mind set on earlier flies straight out the window, your brain short circuits as your sopping hole flutters around his fingers, sucking them in.

“Fuck, baby, look at you clench on Daddy’s fingers. Want Daddy to finger-fuck this cute little cunt silly?” If you could see his face you’re sure he’d be smiling— an eerie thing, eyes trained on his fingers getting sucked back into you. Such a needy boy. “C’mon, say it. Tell Daddy you want his big fingers in your sweet, greedy little pussy.”

You can’t help it, hole throbbing rhythmically along his long fingers, squelching and gushing with stickiness. The swell of your ass ripples as you wiggle your hips, rising and falling to grindgrindgrind. “Fuck me already, c’mon, old man.”

“That what your little ‘boyfriends’ do?” Your lip quivers— he hadn't even flinched at the sass— and instead used your own words against you. “Oh, baby. They didn’t give that little boycunt the attention he needed, hm? That why you throw so many tantrums?”

Your hand finds his wrist, fingers wrapping around thick and strong limp just enough to get his hand moving, trying to guide him deeper, faster, harder. He should reward bratty behavior, but the words spill from his mouth almost immediately, “That’s it, just needed something to fill you up, nice and full.”

It’s ironic— he says it just before pulling out his soaked fingers. And, at your nightstand, opens the drawer to retrieve lube. You watch him pause, eyes scanning the contents of the drawer until his lips quirk downward. Lollipop wrappers. An ungodly amount— you really went on a hunger strike because he ignored you? For six whole days?

“What am I gonna do with you.” He sighs, but grabs a sucker regardless, tearing open its pretty, pastel blue packaging to reveal its red, shiny hard candy. He pops the treat into his mouth, holds it on the right side with his teeth, and squirts a generous amount of lube over the globes of your ass. His hands slip and slide as he guides it around, watches it dribble down your thighs and relishes in the way your hole opens up for him, soaked and sticky.

Your eyebrows pinch, hips wiggling as he pulls the lollipop free from his mouth and directs it against your own, “Suck,” He murmurs, but it’s forced past your lips before you can process the demand. Here come more tears, burning your nose as you hiccup out a tiny, overwhelmed, “Daddy?”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” He coos, circling the pad of his thumb along the rim of your hole. Even as your feet instinctively kick, there’s no reaction from him, just a pleased hum. “Keep sucking, atta boy.”

His thumb feels like a lot, makes you squeal and shiver as he presses it inside, and something hot and wet accompanies it. That's good, the heat of his tongue licking and sucking at your throbbing rim, bubbly spit dribbling down his chin and caught in his stubble. One hand is focused on fucking your boyhole raw, till your brain goes numb and you’re incoherent. His palm presses into the small of your ass, tongue working hard until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your mouth flies open in a silent scream. He takes the opportunity to snatch the lollipop back, keeps his tongue pressed against your walls until—

He trails the glossy sphere of the candy down to your sloppy little hole, nudging and prodding until he slowly works the lollipop inside. “You can take it,” He growls, eyes trained on your fucked-out face. He can feel it, the tightening of your balls, the way your hole aches and pulses with the treat inside you. “That’s it, sweet thing. Wanna make this pussy cum, give it t’me. Let Daddy have it..”

He murmurs, and suddenly, instead of the treat that he’s popping back into his mouth, there’s the head of his perfectly thick, so big, cock pressing against your slick, thoroughly fucked-out hole and—

Oh.

“Sweet.”

You sob into nothing, back arching and spongy walls clinging down on Shouta’s cock as it’s worked inch by inch into you and— you can’t fucking believe it. You fought for so long, put on a bratty attitude and stomped your feet. Why would you ever push Shouta and his cock away for so long? Your breaths are short. Tiny little gasps as his large hands grip your ankles, spreading your legs open to get a better view of the thick dick pumping you full. Your pretty little hole, sheen with spit and lube, exposed and on display for him and his cock. And, yeah, this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. . . You want him to break you.

“You’re— fuck, you’re so gross, Daddy,” Shouta grits his teeth, “Ohh, havin’ your best friend’s son on your fat cock, fuckin’ my pussy so full. . !” You’re straight up babbling, cross-eyed as each thrust knocks coherent thoughts out your brain. A real, proper slut, desperately humping upupup to fuck yourself on his dick. With this position— knees to your ears and holes on display, you barely have the control to move— but it’s cute to watch you try anyway.

“Shut up and take it,” He rasps, voice deep and scratchy in a harsh whisper as his hips snap back and forth. “Don’t want mommy and daddy to hear their son calling someone else daddy, do you?”

“Daddy— Daddy, my pussy—“ You’re babbling, it’s all you can do since Shouta is all force with his thrusts; takes what he needs, feeds you his cock good and so, so deep. Over and over, you let out broken whines, desperate for it, looking down as best you can to watch your own cock bob and jump against your tummy, thighs sticky with spit and lube. You can hear the sound of your slutty, pathetic moans, the wet plaplaplap of skin, lube trailing and frothing between your bodies as Shouta fucks into you. You can’t stop twitching— your legs, your hole, your cock.

“This is Daddy’s pussy,” He corrects, angling his hips just right, the heat of his cock pressing against every special spot you’ve got. Every bundle of nerves, every silky, spongy wall you’ve got wrapped around him. “Just like that,” You’re gagging for it, pouty lips parting with open-mouthed pants as he continues to watch your hole tighten around his thick, veiny cock. He has to swallow down his own drool, reaching deeper into you, your body jerking back as he pounds, and pounds, and pounds. You may not be a good boy, but you’re a damn good slut.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. . .” Your breath is caught in your throat, and if you could, you’d scream, your body tensing as your cock throbs and bounces, cum spraying across your bare chest — stickiness shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body set ablaze. Shouta shows no signs of stopping, instead keeping his cock inside you as he flips you around, eyes narrowed. He fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, leaky hole milking him for all he’s got.

“Dumb sluts love cock, baby. S’that what you are?” His voice is a low purr, pressing your face into the mattress, watching your ass fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you.

“Yeah, mhmm,” You drool into your pillow, absentmindedly fucking yourself back onto him. You’re desperate to chase after it, the searing spiral of pressure growing in your stomach, tight hole bearing down on his cock. “Daddy’s slut, s’me!” For a minute you think you’ve passed out, everything going dark as you ride out his hard thrusts, offering tiny movements of your own, up and down to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, to feel his balls slap against your thighs.

“Good sluts take Daddy’s cum,” Your eyes, so glassy and empty, is what gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. “Take it, boy. Let Daddy knock you up.” It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. Shouta’s cum starts to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are erratic and sloppy, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. You never want it to stop, not the groaning or moaning, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move.

He ignores your needy, overstimulated whines when he pulls out completely, his spent cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Even when you’re limp and boneless, body trembling violently, you want more.

“Da— Da—ddy,” You sob, eyes squeezed shut as strong arms pull you up and into even stronger thighs. Sitting on his lap now, Shouta coos hums, basks in the sight of his pretty boy’s afterglow.

“Daddy’s here. I’m here, I got you.” He whispers into your shoulder, and that’s all you need to hear. The thought of his best friend melts away— you’re more than that. You’re not just his best friend’s son. . .

You’re Shouta’s boy.

Summer is coming to an end.

There’s a seasonal chill in the air and it’s getting dark in the early afternoon. The beach has switched its course, currents changing direction and fish disappearing from the shoreline. The weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up, and the clouds have yet to dissipate into the sky. . Shouta helps you pack, grumbles when you press chaste kisses against his skin the whole time— shuts down the stomps of your feet while you whine, “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Spring break,” Is all Shouta says, his mismatched eyes downcast in a way that highlights his long, pretty eyelashes. Then, voice barely audible, he whispers, “I don’t want you to, either.”

Your body visibly straightens, giddiness painting your boyish face as you smile wide and big. The older man almost regrets saying it, huffing with you lean impossible close to hug him tight. “Will you call me?”

“Whenever you want,” He says, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. You watch as he throws your large bag of lollipops into your carry-on backpack, but not before plucking a treat free from the others. “You know I will.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

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lev1hei1chou · 20 days

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Little Snitch

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 444 Synopsis: Gojo's son is a snitch Masterlist

Gojo Satoru strode into the preschool, his white hair practically glowing against the backdrop of the brightly colored walls. His usual confident grin was plastered on his face as he approached the reception desk to sign in for his son.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gojo," greeted the receptionist with a warm smile.

"Hey there! Here to pick up S/N," Gojo replied cheerfully, signing the necessary paperwork before making his way to the classroom.

As he stepped into the room, he immediately spotted his son playing with blocks in the corner. The little boy's eyes lit up at the sight of his father and he ran over, wrapping his tiny arms around Gojo's legs.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

"Hey, champ! Ready to go home?" Gojo asked, ruffling S/N's hair affectionately.

"Yeah!" the younger boy nodded eagerly, taking his father's hand as they made their way out of the classroom.

As they walked through the hallway, a young teacher approached them with a friendly smile. "Hello, Mr. Gojo. I couldn't help but notice how adorable S/N is. You must be so proud."

Gojo's grin widened, his charisma oozing effortlessly. "Oh, definitely. He takes after his father, afterall."

The young teacher blushed slightly at his words, her gaze lingering on Gojo for a moment longer than necessary. "Well, if you ever need any help with S/N, or anything else for that matter, please don't hesitate to ask."

Gojo chuckled softly, giving her a charming wink. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

As they exited the preschool and headed home, his son chatted animatedly about his day making expressive gestures with his hands, oblivious to the brief exchange between his father and the teacher.

Once they were home, the little one burst through the door and ran straight to where his mother was waiting in the living room.

"Mama! Mama!" he exclaimed, tugging on her sleeve.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you asked, smiling down at him.

"Daddy talked to a pretty lady at school today!" he announced excitedly.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in your eyes as you turned to Gojo, who entered the room with a sheepish grin.

"Is that so?" you teased, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Yeah, but don't worry, I shut her down real quick," Gojo said with a wink, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

You laughed, shaking your head in mock disapproval. "Well, it looks like I'll have to start picking him up from school from now on. Can't have you causing trouble with the teachers."

Gojo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Sounds like a plan, babe."

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valeskafics · 12 days

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"A Family Affair" - Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader x Paul Atreides

a/n: so there is also irulan/reader, paul/feyd, AND paul/irulan in this BUT the main pairing is feyd/reader/paul. if incest makes you squicky, feel free to scroll past, absolutely zero judgement. many thanks to @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive & @dreamlandcreations for your contributions to this crazy fic, i hope you all enjoy! 🩷

Summary: You, Feyd, and Paul come to an agreement. One others do not seem to agree with.

TW: INCEST, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, voyeurism/exhibitionism, dom!paul, hair pulling, p in v sex, creampie AND inkpie, breeding kink, choking, oral f receiving, fingering, anal sex, double penetration, switch!reader, switch!feyd, murder, blood kink, too many things to count i apologize if i missed any, polyamory idk if that's a tw?

Word Count: 3,060

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

You and Paul had always been close - closer than most. You did everything together, spending every waking moment in each other’s company. At first, it was chalked up to twins being twins. After all, you were each other’s dearest friends in addition to being siblings. It wasn’t until your teen years that your mother began to suspect something deeper between the two of you. The way your gaze lingered on Paul’s hands, his lips… The way Paul touched you longer than necessary when helping you train, reluctant to release you as if he never wanted to let you go. However, she says nothing. Because this is, after all, her doing.

Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam was right. In her selfishness, her desire to prove her love to your father, your mother bore him a son when she was meant to only bear him a daughter. She was so conflicted as she made the decision, struggling with it for the greater part of the conception and pregnancy. She chose to give birth to twins, one boy and one girl, to appease both the Bene Gesserit and to please her beloved Leto, to give him the heir he needed. But her decision, her conflict, was settled far too late. In deciding to bear twins, Lady Jessica ripped a single entity of life, one whose soul had already begun to develop, into two separate beings. Paul and you were each other’s other half in every possible sense of the word.

From your infancy, that longing was there, that deep-seated need to be near each other. You were meant to be one - one body, one soul, one heart. And the only way that burning desire was sated was by remaining near each other. Not even the Bene Gesserit completely understand how this happened. Only your mother, Paul, and you know the truth of the matter. And despite what many would call an inconvenience, the two of you are able to lean on each other, learn everything together faster than you would be able to alone. And so, she allows it.

By the time the two of you are eighteen, you have taken each other as lovers. It is the closest you have ever felt to being one again, and so, you crave each other’s touch, seeking each other out whenever you are able. And this works, for a time. Until you are reminded of the fact that since you are both of age now, you have duties to uphold to both your house and the fulfillment of the Bene Gesserit prophecy. Running away together is not an option. Both of you are too loyal to your house, to your parents to consider such a thing. And so, you concoct a plan to make all this work to your advantage.

From a young age, you have been told that you are to marry Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. And when you turn nineteen, he comes to Caladan to begin your courting. He seems out of place at first, a man of violence and bloodshed on your peaceful planet. But something stirs deep within him as you walk toward him, no, glide - all effortless grace and charming smiles, welcoming him to your home alongside your brother.

Feyd is eager to spend time with you, finding you quite unlike any woman he ever met on Giedi Prime. His Harpies? He was fond of them, but you? You are something else entirely. You are quick-witted, able to keep him on his toes with your acerbic sense of humor, your complete lack of fear toward him. He watches you and your brother train, enjoying sparring with the two of you from time to time, joining in on your lessons. However, Paul lets it be known that the two of you come as a packaged deal. The two of you are always together. He finds fighting the two of you at once rather… Intriguing. You work together as one, anticipating each other’s movements and making a formidable foe. It fascinates him to see siblings as close as you are whereas he and Rabban have always despised each other.

You cuddle up to his side while Paul walks at his other when you take him to the beach, the lake… Seating him between the two of you at your lessons. And you are both… So very affectionate. Paul’s “brotherly” hand on his shoulder, squeezing with a knowing smirk. Your hand caressing his thigh as you smile at him mischievously. And Feyd realizes it. You both want him. The two of you intrigue him, the way you seem to communicate without words, the way your gazes linger on him. And his gaze lingers on you both as well.

Feyd, the two of you come to realize, is a stickler for punctuality. He is always early for your walks, your lessons, your sparring sessions. Always waiting there, twirling the blade of his knife before his heavy gaze settles on you, that handsome smirk curling on his lips. Today is no exception. You invited him to go to the lake once again with you and Paul, stating you had a surprise for him. Feyd wonders if you finally mean to give in to the attraction that clearly exists between you, the wedding now being only one month away. So, as always, he arrives nearly fifteen minutes early, leaning against the wall outside your chambers, waiting for Paul to show up as well.

Except he’s greeted by something else entirely.

He hears it first, your moans of Paul’s name. Your door is cracked ever so slightly, and so he steps closer, wanting to confirm his suspicions. Feyd peers inside, transfixed by the sight of you and Paul standing beside your bed. Paul pulls at a loose string on the bodice of your dress, tugging you closer to him.

“Well?” You stare at him, arching a brow, “Are you going to fuck me or just stare at me?”

Feyd watches Paul grab you by the jaw, clicking his tongue as if to scold you, “Don’t be a brat with me, sister. I might just have to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours until it’s too sore to speak if you do that.”

You smirk up at him, pulling him toward you, your lips meeting his in a heated, sloppy kiss, one that he takes control of as the two of you begin to shed your clothes. Feyd watches, his cock growing stiff, palming at it over the fabric of his training leathers, watching Paul lean in to nip at your throat, down your shoulders, all the way to your breasts. He bites at the skin softly before taking a nipple into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue, using his hand to squeeze at the other, kneading your soft flesh in his hands. He moves his mouth down to just below your navel, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake.

You whine slightly, annoyed by this teasing, “Paul, just fucking do something, I need you!”

He looks up at you, a cocky grin painted on his handsome face, “We have an audience, sister. And I intend on giving our cousin, your future husband, a show.”

Feyd’s eyes widen, knowing that he has been found out. He pushes the door open ever so slightly, stepping into your room, watching the two of you, who seem completely unperturbed by his presence. Rather, you simply continue snapping at your brother.

“Oh quit talking so damned much and fucking put your stupid mouth on-”

You are effectively cut off by Paul licking a long stripe along your slit, making you let out a soft moan of his name. He grins up at you.

“I was only doing as you asked, sweet sister.”

He buries his face inside you, tossing your legs over his shoulders as he laps at your slick folds like a man starved. He lets his teeth brush against the sensitive nub of your pearl, the cold of them making you wince and cringe away from him ever slightly, but Paul has no intention of allowing you to do so.

“Oh, no, you’re not getting away from me.”

Paul moves his hands to grip your hips firmly, holding you in place so that you can’t squirm away from him for even a moment. The air is filled with the sounds of him, lapping at your cunt, her moans, and Feyd’s heavy breathing as he watches the entire display.

“Look at him while I make you spill yourself all over my lips. Look at him, darling.”

You laugh breathlessly at his demand and murmur, “As you wish.”

You turn to Feyd, seeing his eyes are transfixed on Paul’s tongue as it presses into you. Feyd’s lips part slightly when he notices that you are looking at him, and you smirk before letting out a low moan and closing your eyes when Paul brushes his teeth against you again. The sensation proves to be too much and before you knows it, her whole body feels as though a tidal wave has washed over you as your arousal spills onto Paul’s lips.

“You taste divine. Would you like to try, darling?”

You nod and sit up, pulling him into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Your moans are louder than necessary, both of you putting on a show for Feyd, who continues watching intently, grabbing the chair by your desk, spinning it around and sitting on it. He leans forward, those darkened teeth of his sinking into his lower lip as he watches the two of you.

“Are you ready for me to fill you up?” Paul asks between kisses.

“Yes,” you let out a wanton moan, your fingers tangling in Paul’s dark curls, “Fuck me, Paul.”

He gives his cock a quick stroke and pushes into you, groaning at the feeling of your warm, wet walls squeezing around him. The noise you let out is downright obscene, and Feyd watches in fascination as Paul sheathes himself inside you.

“Still so tight for me,” Paul grins, “After all this time of taking my fat cock in that tiny little cunt.”

“Paul,” you hiss angrily, annoyed at his teasing, “Fucking move!”

He pulls out of you completely before quickly pushing back in once more, almost brutishly, making you let out a quiet yelp, “Not so bossy now, are we? Hm?”

Paul begins pounding into you, smirking at the sight of you, his fierce, fearsome twin lying abnormally pliant beneath him. This is the only time you ever even slightly submit to him, when the two of you are like this. He moves his hands to grab you by the hips, fucking you even deeper, letting his cockhead brush against that spot that has you seeing stars. You let out a near scream of his name.

“Oh, God, harder!”

He continues fucking into you without any mercy, his cock filling you to the brim, staring down at you with hard eyes, “Scream my fucking name, pretty girl.”

All that comes out are incoherent moans as he continues fucking you into the mattress. And just as he feels you clench around him, knowing you are about to reach your peak, he pulls out of you completely. You stare up at him in utter and complete shock.

“Paul, what the fuck-”

Before you can complete your sentence, he grips you by the hair and flips you onto your stomach, so that both of you face Feyd, who is completely hypnotized by the sight before him.

Paul begins to pound into you from behind, making you let out a loud cry of his name, “Paul, oh God, it’s too deep, please-”

“Do you need me to stop?” He questions calmly, knowing what the answer will be.

“No,” you snap at him, “Don’t you dare.”

He notices you trying to hide your face in the mattress to muffle the noises you’re making, but that simply cannot do. He growls and grips you even more harshly by the hair.

“Look at your future husband,” he demands, snapping his hips against yours, his balls heavy as they slap against your ass with each thrust, “Fucking look at him and tell him who’s doing this to you. Who’s ruining you. Don’t you dare come until you do.”

Feyd stares at you, seeing that your eyes are watering slightly from the sensation of Paul fucking you, the sight of which makes him even harder; you manage to eke out between your moans, “Paul is doing this to me. Please, Paul-”

You feel the sting of Paul’s hand come down on your ass, making you squeal and Feyd jump slightly, “I said tell him, louder!”

“Paul is doing this to me,” you all but wail as Paul picks up his pace, your hands grasping the sheets, “Paul, oh God, let me-”

“Come for me, my sweet girl. Come on now.”

Feyd watches as Paul moves his hand to rub circles over your clit, making you climax with a final scream of his name, his own end following soon after you. You slump down against the bed, taking a moment to catch your breath, smirking to yourself as you watch Paul beckon Feyd toward the two of you. Feyd rids himself of his clothes in record time, revealing his lean, toned body to you, his cock swaying as he walks toward you. He climbs into the bed, pulling you into his arms, his hand cupping your mound as his fingers slowly begin to tease you. Your eyes flutter shut and you pull him into a kiss, Paul’s hand caressing your breast, squeezing, pinching your nipple as you feel him begin to harden against your ass. You lean away slightly, watching with pleasure as Feyd and Paul share a kiss next, as if fighting each other for dominance, the sight arousing you. The fact that your brother and your husband-to-be are both such powerful men and yet you get to see them like this… It’s intoxicating.

Feyd moves back to kiss you again, smirking as you straddle him, Paul moving behind you. You sink down onto Feyd’s cock with a low moan, one that he echoes, his hands moving to hold your hips as you bounce up and down on his cock. He sits up, kissing your neck, squeezing the flesh of your ass, spreading it so that Paul can lick his fingers and push two inside you, preparing you to take his cock. All the while you continue riding Feyd, kissing him, letting him kiss Paul, the three of you a tangle of limbs. And when Paul’s cock fills you, both of them inside you at once, it’s almost like everything has fallen into place. They both fuck into you, looking at you as if you are the center of their world, their universe. As if you are their empress. As if you own them.

And perhaps you do.

The three of you are inseparable from that day on. It is like you and Paul have found the missing piece to the puzzle - and it is Feyd. And nothing changes after you and Feyd are wed. Sometimes Feyd dominates you, grabbing you by the throat, fucking you into submission, breeding you the way a Harkonnen breeds their wife. And sometimes he lets you and Paul dominate him, your mouth or cunt wrapped around his cock while Paul fucks him. And sometimes? He fucks Paul while his mouth laves attention on your sweet little pussy, grabbing you, tasting you, wanting nothing more than to be with you.

And when Irulan is wed to Paul, the boys aren’t the least bit surprised when they find you in Paul and Irulan’s bed on the wedding night, your face between her thighs as her fingers twist in your hair. Feyd fucks you and Paul fucks his new bride while you and your sister-in-law kiss. And all is well.

The arrangement between the four of you is only ever questioned once. It is when the question of who is to inherit Arrakis arises, and Feyd’s brother wishes for his children to be given the title. The hearing is on Giedi Prime, with nearly everyone of import in attendance. Your and Paul’s parents, the Baron, the Emperor, even the Reverend Mother. You stand there calmly, a hand resting on your stomach, growing with your and your husband’s third child while you have borne two of Paul’s, Feyd’s hand resting over yours as you speak your piece. Feyd declares that since he is far more worthy of being his uncle’s heir than Rabban, it should be your son that comes after him in the line of succession. His uncle watches all of this, the way holds you in his arms, doting on you, your brother and Irulan closeby, also supporting your claim.

“Her children are bastards!” Rabban bellows, pointing at you, his eyes darkened with rage.

“I could have your tongue for that,” Paul declares coldly, staring his brother-in-law down, hand moving toward his blade, readying to strike.

Irulan and you exchange a look, wondering when in the world this cock-measuring competition is going to come to an end, when Rabban yells again, “And their mother is a whore!”

It is Feyd who reacts, drawing his crysknife within mere seconds, his body moving with lethal precision as he strikes once, with enough strength to take Rabban’s head clean off his body, smirking down at his headless corpse, meeting your gaze, “He can keep his tongue.”

Your brother stifles a chuckle at your husband’s actions while Irulan merely sighs reproachfully. You, however? When he returns to your side, his face coated with blood, you pull him into a deep kiss, both of you moaning in a display of your affection for the known universe to see. Growing tired of this display, Irulan tugs you away and pulls you into a kiss of her own, her father and your own father’s eyes going wide at the sight, and finally? You smile up at Paul. He presses a kiss to your forehead and then your lips, cupping your face in his hands.

Never again was the arrangement questioned, for all the universe knew an attack on your honor would elicit swift and severe retribution from your husband, your brother, or your lover.

And they cared not to see which of them it would be.

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kissme-suguru · 2 months

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Baby Daddy! Toji Headcannons

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖Toji Fushiguro x Fem! Reader

Warnings: SFW & NSFW, MDNI, slight smut, strangers to lovers, non curse au, modern au, fluff, Toji is still broke (lil struggle dates), unprotected sex, slight baby trapping, pregnancy, body appreciation, lactation kink, reader is Megumi's mom

A/N: First piece to introduce my blog!! Honestly this was lowkey inspired by Baby By Me by 50 Cent cause tiktok keeps it in my head with the edits. Let's pretend Toji is a present father...

BD!Toji who you bumped into outside a convivence store late one night while he was on the phone with Shiu, seconds away from cursing you out but couldn't help and notice how pretty you were.

BD!Toji who tries to act nonchalant and hide his smirk when you give him your number after talking for a bit.

BD!Toji who texts you a few days later inviting you to his small apartment for your first date and orders pizza. He feels his feelings start to grow when you show no judgement of non-luxurious lifestyle.

BD!Toji who still tries to impress you with little things despite not having stacks of cash to spoil you with. Whenever he did have extra spending cash he would get you something nice to remind you he cares, brushing off your concerns about the price. "Don't worry about it, doll. You like it right? Then that's all that matters."

BD!Toji who practically lives at your apartment since he's there all the time, keeping clothes, shoes and other essentials he was too lazy to go back to his place and get.

BD!Toji who's so charismatic he manages to hit raw on the first time you have sex, claiming you inside and out as the his name rolls off your tongue while he fucks you from behind.

BD!Toji who isn't used to commitment but only fucks you. He had grown so used to the feeling of you wrapped around him and he sure as hell wasn't planning on letting you go. The two of you ending up moving in together after you questioned what you were. "You're mine. Simple as that, doll."

BD!Toji who can't help but smirk slightly when you announce your pregnancy in a panicked state, finding your nervous emotions about his reaction endearing. His arms wrap around your small frame and pull you into his chest to show you how he felt without saying much. "Calm that pretty head of yours, babe. Don't wanna work up our baby."

BD!Toji who becomes even more protective over you in your vulnerable state. He makes you walk in front of him in public, an arms length away at all times. And if you thought he was possessive before it's more now that you're carrying his son.

BD!Toji who gets in the habit of calling you mama.

BD!Toji who takes pride in seeing your body change and grow as you get further into your pregnancy. The sight of your full breasts never failing to draw his attention, often coming up behind you to just squeeze your plump tits through your shirt. When you finally manage to give into his begging he wastes no time attaching his lips to your swollen nipples and tasting the sweet essence coming from your breasts, watching you try to keep your composure. "You like that, mama? I feel you grinding against my thigh like a needy little thing."

BD!Toji who starts taking any job he can get in order to provide for his soon to be family, making sure you two have all the necessary things for the arrival of your son.

BD!Toji who doesn't really know how to help you during the birth but tries his best to make you feel comfortable and give you encouraging praises. Once the soft cries of Megumi echo through the room all the nerves leave his body and he can't take his eyes off him, noticing how much he takes after him already.

BD!Toji who's enjoys watching you preform your motherly duties no matter how small. Looking at you nurturing and loving his son was enough to make his tough shell crack every time.

BD!Toji who you wouldn't expect to go all out when it came to being a dad but did. He would carry Megumi in his strong arms often and always checking on him.

BD!Toji who has to fight off the ladies whenever he's out alone with Megumi. Of course he was a natural flirt but never letting women get ahead of themselves telling them immediately that he has you.

BD!Toji who after dealing with him for a couple years and seeing you care for his son saves up enough money to buy you a nice ring to propose with, wanting you to be his officially for life.

BD!Toji who hates to admit it but he loves being a dad. He takes pride in his son and enjoys watching him grow, raising him better than how he was. Megumi having his father's attitude and smart whit as a child which manages to get him in tiny (jokey) arguments with his dad. that you can't help but laugh at.

"Watch your mouth, brat before I punt you across the room."

"Oh yeah? Try it old man, see if you can even lift your leg up with your stiff joints."

#jujutsu toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji smut #toji fluff #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 2 months

Note

can i request dad!lando where his son is a huge mommas boy and doesn’t let lando near her

A/N: Totally seeing this happening to him

Rolling over you smile as Lando sleeps peacefully next to you, drooling a little bit. You giggle, touching your husbands, cheek. He had gotten in late from one of his races. You remember when you two were young, you'd always stay in the city and party.

Now, with your 5-year-old boy, Thomas, Lando refused to be away more than necessary. It was rare for you to wake up with the two of you, as Thomas loved sleeping in bed with both of you.

Lando groans, eyes squeezing before opening and you stare at those eyes you feel in love with. The held the same light, but even you could see the age in them. "Morning," Lando smiles and moves closer pulling you in.

"Forgot what it's like to actually just have my wife in bed." He jokes and you roll your eyes. It was well known that Thomas was a mamas boy and even worse, is currently going through a stage of not liking Lando near you.

It was normal apparently for the kids to latch onto one parent and hate when the other is all over them. When Thomas was a baby he hated when you'd kiss Lando or hold him when you husband was present. Now, Thomas was by your side all the time. "Stop, he's just used to being with me." Lando sighs and moves deeper into your hold.

"Mommy!" Thomas throws your door open and jumps onto your bed. He stops and sees Lando in your arms and starts to frown. "No, my mommy. She's not yours, Daddy." Thomas pokes Lando all over who tries hard not to laugh but fails as he starts to laugh and Thomas takes the opportunity to steal Lando's spot.

You laugh and hold your baby boy as Lando glares, but it's a soft glare filled with humor. "Thomas, can't Mommy and I hug?" Thomas glares, the opposite of Lando's glare though. "No, she's mine. Go hug your own mommy." Thomas sticks his tongue out and Lando and you share a look before Lando sighs.

"Okay, that's it. CUDDLE PILE!" Lando yells and Thomas screams no as Lando drops ontop of both of you and laughter fills the bedroom. "Get off!" Thomas yells, but it holds no heat as he giggles as Lando's beard tickles his cheeks. "Nope, I want to cuddle Mommy, and since you're here, have to cuddle you too." Lando let's go of his weight and Thomas squeals but stops when Lando rests his head on Thomas's chest.

"Missed you Daddy," Thomas mumbles even though he was really hating the fact that Lando was touching you. "I missed you too, buddy." Lando sighs feeling tiny hands start to play with his curls.

"Daddy?" Lando smiles and pulls you both closer into his arms. "Yeah, baby?" "Can you let mommy go now? She's mine?" Lando eyes fly open and you can't help but bust out laughing as Lando rolls over and gets up.

"Kicked out of my own bed again," "Yes, now can we have breakfast Daddy?" Thomas asks and you and your husband share a look. "Yes, your highness. Need anything else?" Thomas thinks and sticks his hands up. "Hug," Lando melts, unable to help himself he scoops his little boy up and kisses his cheeks and squeezes him tight. "Alright, stealer. Keep cuddling Mom for me." "Yes, sir." Thomas giggles and goes back to you.

You loved these mornings, they were just perfect for your little family.

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h4m1lt0ns · 2 months

Text

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode thirteen :: RIBBONS & TEA.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴various drivers x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔the groupchat returns, and while lewis is feeling a bit funny, y/n casually gives everyone a heart attack and calls it a surprise.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ excessive cussing, none.

lewishamilton

♡ liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 9,149,394 more.

lewishamilton 📍🇬🇧

tagged: y/n, tommyhilfiger.

3,294,204 comments.

username goodnight.

username since fuckin when???

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[liked by lewishamilton]

username i SCREECHED when i opened insta what the fuck.

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username 49392919283 meters away from MY girl sir lewis

→ lewishamilton can you even count that far?

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→ lewishamilton idk am i?

→ username “i”. enough said.

→ username no bc why is he typing in all lowercase 🤠

→ username y/n’s influence is crazy

username but when EYE say they’re dating.

username fernando alonso is typing…

username oh you’re so father for this 😩

landonorris ..d-dad?

→ lewishamilton ..son?

→ landonorris what are we.

→ lewishamilton you have been promoted, you are now one of my elite employees 😁

→ landonorris thanks dad 🫶🏻

→ username LEWIS WHAT THE FUCK.

→ username LANDO OPEN UR FAT MOUTH U BITCH

→ landonorris ﹫lewishamilton cult lh are bullying me

→ lewishamilton okay let’s leave my son out of this.

→ username YOUR WHO?

→ lewishamilton that’s enough internet for next month

username WHAT IS COMMENT SECTION.

username IM SOOOOOOOO.

username im assuming we too have to accept lewis as our dad if lando is doing it 🙄

username ARE WE GONNA IGNORE LANDO’S COMMENT????

→ username ﹫y/n SAY SOMETHING.

y/l/nestate

♡ liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and 13,593,204 more.

y/l/nestate behind the scenes 🍾🎀 fun things coming very soon ⭐️🩷

4,395,394 comments.

username she’s SO fucking beautiful what in the FUCK

username wowowowowowowowow

username one chance PLEASE

lewishamilton pretty

→ y/n heyyyy

→ username 3 Y’S. GIRL STAND UP

→ username i genuinely think we lost her.

→ username enD MY SUFFERING I CANT 💔💔💔

username FACE CARDDDDD 💳💳💳💳💳

username PLS SAY THE ALBUM IS COMING.

username me if you care

username SHES SO 🎀⭐️🩷🫧

username BOUNCING OF THE WALLLLLLSSSSS

username if she drops an album out of nowhere i will bang my head against the wall 🩷🩷🩷🩷

username mercedes doll 😍

→ username LEWIS I KNOW ITS YOU MF.

→ username log out of this acc lewis 🔥

→ username you too need to stand up 🫵😧

→ username let him stay down it’s Y/N Y/L/N

�� username point made 🤷🏽‍♀️

username bratz doll irl 🧎🏽‍♀️

username 😍😍😍

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

honey badger: avengers assemble.

honey banger: i have easily the most important tea to spill today.

y/n: “hear yee! hear yee!” ahh text

girlfriend kika: LMFAO

babygirl alex: hear yee 😭😭😭

honey badger: it’s about max

girlfriend kika: i ain’t laughing no more 🗿

chal eclair: what does he want

chili!: no bc after the shit his team pulled i don’t think i wanna hear from anyone abt him

angel carmen: wait is it important

honey badger: it’s abt the billboards incident

princess george: oh.

my baby lando: oH?

yukino: 🔪?

honey badger: might be necessary this time

alabono: he is personally involved isn’t he 😐

honey badger: yep.

my baby lando: wait oscar needs to see this

MY BABY LANDO added PAPAYA BABY #2

papaya baby #2: i love it here already

wifey lily: oh i’m so sat

honey badger: i was ‘hanging out’ with max before the suzuka race to make it seem like we’re chill. i wasn’t there to hang w him i had a mission.

my baby lando: okay okay

chal eclair: 🤨

honey badger: i managed to get ahold of his phone then i waited until he left his drivers room

honey badger: then i switched my phone case with his to make it look like i was on my phone while i was going through his

y/n

y/n: i would like to apologise, visa cash app driver, i, indeed was NOT familiar.

girlfriend kika: LET BRO COOK 🔥🔥🔥

chili!: oH HE IS COOKING ALRIGHT

honey badger: so i go through his messages and find a deleted group chat. a group chat with the employees that red bull fired.

chal eclair: OH HELL NOOOOO 😭😭😭

honey badger: he INSTRUCTED them to burn the billboards. specifically the ones with y/n on them.

princess george: i know he thought this was IT

alabono: bro thinks he’s him

papaya baby #2: who let bro cook

honey badger: not only that

y/n: THERES MORE?????

angel carmen: hELLO?

honey badger: he made sure to tell horner to cover for him

PIERRE GASLYYYY: no fucking wonder the fia’s investigation was wrapped up SO quickly

yukino: and their corny ass apology said it all

yukino: “team principal christian horner apologises” since fucking when

babygirl alex: ^^^^^^ REALLLL

y/n: setting up a zoom call rn we need to brainstorm

y/n: im also adding lew, seb and nando because they’ve been PlISSSSEEEDDD

chal eclair: “lew” and “nando” and i’m still waiting on my cute nickname

y/n: be grateful i love you and your fuck ass pasta 🙄

papaya baby #2: i love it SO much here

chili!: don’t get too comfortable oscar

y/n: i’m not gon tell you to leave that baby alone one more time 🗣️

papaya baby #2: thanks mum 🫶🏻

y/n and y/l/nestate

♡ liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55 and 44,294,293 more.

y/n and y/l/nestate surprise lol 🎀 champagne, sex & anxiety 7/10 🥂 considering the amount of people i worked with on this album, it’s truly a fucking miracle that i managed to shut the fuck up abt it and not say anything so here u go i guess 💗🩰⭐️ no more sad songs LETSFUCKINGO !!!! i personally call this one my mona lisa and i BEG u to love it as much as i do when it comes out 🍾🤍🏹 also no twitter jumpscare this time ur welcome lmaooo :)! love u to death 🧸🫂💘

9,204,394 comments.

theweeknd my excitement exceeds the english language.

username CAN YOU BE NORMALS ABT ALBUM DROP JS FOR ONCE (1) ☝🏽 PLS.

username WAHTS FOIBG ON ????????

username WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKK Y/N

username wHY THE FUCKCKCKCKC IS SHE STILL ALLOWED TO DO THIS SKSKSKSKSKS 😭😭😭😭😭

username “no twitter jumpscare” AN INSTAGRAM JUMPSCARE ISNT ANY BETTER Y/N

lewishamilton honoured. proud of you doll 💗

→ y/n proud of u ml 🩷⭐️

→ username “ml” GIRL.

→ username OMFG ﹫mercedesamgf1 YOUR EMPLOYEES ARE FLIRTING TAKE THEM TO HR ITS ILLEGAL

→ username HR 😭😭😭

→ username GET THIS MALEEEE AWAY FROM MY WIFE 💔💔

username ITS MIDNIGHT MATE DID YOU LOSE IT

landonorris WHAT.

carlossainz55 WHAT THE HELL

danielricciardo IS THIS HOW I FIND OUT

username ARE WE ALL CONFUSED RIGHT NOW

charles_leclerc UHM YES??????

username YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

y/l/nrecords love when y/n drops music out of nowhere 🔥

→ username LMAOOOO

→ username REALLLLLL

username i’m so genuinely shocked i’ve been sitting here in silence for the past ten minutes

→ username you’re a stronger person that me i screamed so loud my neighbour broke my door bc he thought i was being murdered

→ username DAWWWGGGGGG IM WEAK 😭

username WHY IS LEWIS TAGGED ON ME & YOU

→ username SOMEJENE ANSER MER

username THESE SONG NAMES ARE GIVINGGGGG

pierregasly what in the ratatouille bullshit.

francisca.cgomes WHAT THE HELL 🔥 🔥

lilymhe YESSSSSSS

alexalbon ??????!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!!!?!!

mercedesamgf1 i literally cant wait 🤩

username yesss gaga

oscarpiastri we’ve all been on this call for four hours and we don’t even get a heads up ??

→ username CALL??

→ username “WE’VE ALL” ?????

→ username FOUR HOURS HELLO SIR.

username what in the literal fuck is going on.

username ,&/&;&2929(92&:’fwlsoqlfjje MA’AM.

username STOP THID MADDNEDS LDLE

username Y/N PLEASE

scuderiaferrari ?????????

username i can’t do it. i js can’t do it man.

username BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL

username WHY WIULD U ANNOUNCE IT LIKE THAT

username Y/N ISTG.

☆ IMESSAGE with : Unknown Number

xxx-xxx: hey

xxx-xxx: can we talk?

#☆ — ¡h4m1lt0ns!˚⁎⁺˳ .#f1 x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #george russell x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #pierre gasly x trader #oscar piastri x reader

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forbidden-sunlight · 4 months

Text

yandere!emperor with empress!reader scenario

warnings: infidelity, obsessive behavior, blackmail, non-con, regicide.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome to my first yandere fic! Before we dive in, I want to let you know a couple of things; firstly, this is not the prologue of a series and never will be one because I simply do not have the time right now. It is a scenario, a prompt, that was inspired by the Fallen Kingdom series created by @cassanderasblog. I will leave a link to their work here. I credit them for giving me inspiration and being honest in their feedback when I showed them the initial draft. Credit also goes to @faux-ecrivain for helping finish a difficult scene.

Finally, please do not comment on here if you wish to harass me in some shape or form. I do and will not tolerate bullying. As the saying goes, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say it at all." If it does happen, however, I will have no choice but to remove this scenario as soon as possible.

So, with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy :)

Yandere!Emperor had despised you with his heart and soul. The only reason he had allowed the marriage to even happen was to solidify the alliance between his nation and yours. He did not love you. The woman who held his heart, the one whom he trusted above everyone else in the world is Tatiana Adreeva. His mistress. A beautiful flower that should never be polluted by the nobles who dare to not allow her to become the Empress simply because she lacked the status equal to his own prior to ascension. You did.

Yandere!Emperor did not lay a hand on you after the vows had been exchanged in the temple. He did not seek out your company, preferring to seek comfort in Tati’s bed and her arms. He had his crown, his woman, and allocated more power through his marriage with you. It was nothing personal. He simply did what he had to do so that his Empire would continue to prosper.

Yandere!Emperor would not tolerate any rudeness targeted toward his lover, even if you had not uttered a single word to her at all or raised your hand against her.

To him, ignoring her when she greeted you was enough to earn a lengthy lecture from him.

But you did not cling to him or beg for mercy, as he thought you would do, or any other self-respecting maiden who did not want to anger her husband. You coldly stared at him with that, silent as the grave until he dismissed you from his office. Out of spite, he had his aide add more documents to your desk for the next month even when the work was not part of the Empress’ official duties.

To his joy, Tatiana became pregnant with his child, his heir. Being by her side was suddenly all that mattered to Yandere!Emperor. His overprotective streak and ill temperament increased over time. He would lash out at you for the smallest of incidents, even if it was not your fault. And like before, you did not react to his words and continued with your life.

Like what happens to him or with his mistress is none of your concern unless it is associated with the Empire and the citizens. As it should be. He did not marry you out of love.

When the child was born, a healthy baby boy christened Nikolov, Yandere!Emperor held a banquet and invited ambassadors from neighboring kingdoms to celebrate. But it was on this day….that he knew the truth.

Once he had made the necessary greetings and made sure the captain of the guards would immediately report anything suspicious or if Tati and Nikolov were in any danger, Yandere!Emperor retreated to his office. He looked over the stack of documents on his desk, trying to lessen his workload in the morning so that he could spend time with his Tati and his son.

Upon hearing a knock at the door, he did not look up from the outline of a treaty as he allowed the third person to enter his office without cutting off their fingers. His mistress, the head butler, and his advisor. Tati’s older brother, Marquis Aizel Adreeva. Yandere!Emperor had bought the highest status that he could give to his mistress’ family after receiving positive confirmation that Tati was truly pregnant and not a misdiagnosis.

Aizel smiled, closing the door behind him with his foot as he set down a tray, placing two silver goblets and a bottle of wine on the corner of his desk. He spoke softly, congratulating Yandere!Emperor on finally having an heir and making his sister the happiest woman in the world. He poured the wine into the goblets. He held one in his hand, and extended his other hand to the Glorious Son, Blessed by the Five Gods.

Yandere!Emperor smiled, taking the offered drink. They raised their goblets high in the air, and drank. Yet when Yandere!Emperor looked at Aizel…his merry smile was not right. Not the kind of joy that a new uncle would express at a nationwide celebration. It was tighter, almost anticipating something…to happen.

That was when he realized the wine tasted bitter. That was when the room began to spin, and it felt like his skull being split in half. Poison. He had been betrayed. Yandere!Emperor grunted, trying to steady himself against the desk when Aizel walked around the wooden structure and had the audacity to push him back into the leather chair.

“Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Emperor.” Aizel chastised, his amber orbs glowing with delight. “Not going to lie, I did not think the wine would accelerate the poison as quickly I had thought, but that works for me!”

Yandere!Emperor felt a rock plummet into the pit of his stomach at Aizel’s words. “You…did this?” He gurgled. “I thought…the Empress -”

“And deny me the opportunity to see the look on your face, choking on your blood? Absolutely not. Dear, sweet [First Name] would never have done this to you. You might not have loved her, but she did respect you.” Aizel shrugged. "If Tati were in her shoes, I reckon things would not have gone as smoothly as they have." He said casually, as if he were talking about the weather and not informally speaking to the most powerful man in the Empire.

“I only have ten minutes before I must return to the party, so I will do the honor of answering your unspoken questions. Now, where should I start? Oh, right. Why? Why did I do this when I love you like a brother? When have you treated my sister and I with nothing but kindness and respect, providing support whenever we are troubled, mentally, physically, and finanically? Well, the answer is really, really simple: I don’t. I tolerated you. I respected you. But never once did I feel any affection towards you.” His smile widened. “The one who deserves to stand by Tati's side is the Rapid Dog of The Northern Border, my brother-in-arms. Remember him? He was engaged to Tati. The man she should have married, should have been the father of my nephew. But you had the engagement annulled because she had said a few nice words to you. You threatened to seize my family’s home unless she came to the palace as your mistress? Do you remember? Why do I even bother asking? You’re going to die anyway, and we will finally be free from this gilded cage. Seven years. Seven long, agonizing years of watching my sister playing the gentle, loving role of a besotted mistress when all she really wanted to do was slit your throat. I thought about that every day too, you know? Well, almost. I actually felt sorry for the Empress, you know. She didn’t deserve to have a husband who neglected his duties and blamed everything on the one person who kept the gears in this Empire going, until now.”

“E-Empress -”

“Had an assassin give her a clean, painless death. Made it look like an accident, and he delivered! That’s very impressive for an underground guild, you know. Investment was worth it.” Aizel giggled.

“Now, it’s time to let everyone know their beloved Emperor has retired for the evening and call it a night. Big changes are coming. Pity you won’t see it. Don’t worry though, I won’t kill Nikki. I do love him…and he will never know that his true father is a tyrannical piece of shit who died in his own pool of blood because he allowed love to muddle his mind when he should have put the country’s well being above all else. Farewell, Emperor Aleksander of the Moldova Empire. From the ashes of corruption, a new country shall be born. And my nephew will rule over it in his father’s stead once he is ready. The father he should have had and not the one who brought him into this world, Duke Matthias Starkov.”

When he awakened, Yandere!Emperor realized he was no longer on the floor. He could breathe and he could see in the mirror that hung across the room that he looked younger again. He asked, no, demanded, a quivering servant to tell him what the year and date were, now. It was The Year of the Moon, ----. As the crown prince of the Moldova Empire, it is his duty to select a candidate to become his crown princess, his future Empress who would rule beside him when he ascended as the Emperor. His father, the current Emperor, is growing impatient with his sixteen-year-old son and annoyed that he is still fawning over the marquis’ daughter, Tatiana Adreeva, a woman who was already engaged to a duke.

“Bring me the list, no, tell Josef to bring it to my office immediately. I will be there shortly.” Yandere!Emperor had never pushed the servants to dress him quickly as he did at this moment. He did not know how or why, but he had returned to the past, right when he had seen Tatiana for the first time. Seven years into the past, before Aizel had poisoned him and killed his Empress.

Sure enough, he saw his Empress’ name on the list, five down from the most qualified and right in the middle of the lengthy parchment. [First Name] [Last Name], born to the Republic of Greiran, the Prime Minister’s only daughter.

They are Moldova’s closest neighbor and primary source of spices and various crops that are able to thrive in the harshest of weather conditions. Rumor had it that the Prime Minister himself was the one who had collaborated with the magician’s tower on this project, saving thousands of lives from suffering another winter and no harvest after the king had collapsed from a broken heart, having lost his queen after she had given birth to the crown prince.

That connection to the magician’s tower was the only reason Yandere!Emperor had married his Empress. Access to more magical resources than the ones in the Moldova Empire, enabling the creation of magical weapons and protecting the borders around enemy nations. And yet he still died like a damned dog, blind to the respect and admiration his Empress held for him in favor of receiving love from his murderer. But not this time. This time….he will set things right.

He will not get involved with Tatiana Adreeva.

He will ascend to the throne as he is supposed to.

He will be devoted only to [First Name], never taking a mistress even if the aristocracy begged him. Even if their marriage is only on paper, and she never looks at him as a man and only as an Emperor.

He will learn everything there is to know about his future Empress, and he will never let her go.

Taglist

@impeakcharacterdesign

@ceeesxy-blog

@mitra555

@mooly-artistic

@lxdymoon0357

@xiaopleasecomehome

@lovely-nightmares

@aurora-rose-miller

@swallowtailcherry

@justcressida

@faux-ecrivain

@yandere-dark-cupid

@likesugarandcyanide

@angelltheninth

@kanroji-san

@suiana

@swallowtailcherry

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2023

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere!emperor #do not repost #yandere oc #ns.fw #cw obsession #tw obsession #tw yandere #tw dubious consent #cw dubious consent #tw murder #cw murder

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hana-no-seiiki · 5 months

Text

YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT ME NOT F*CK ME!

yan! school grass (most handsome/perfect guy)/rival x crossdresser! male! reader x yan! friends - part one

tw/cw: mention of abusive parents (but not reader’s) and yandere themes. also your rival has some repressed sexual urges, he really needs to get laid or some head or something-

just read migi and dali and gahd NOW I WANNA WRITE A WHOLE CROSSDRESS /GENDERBENDER BL NOVEL IM IN HORRID ROTTING

Like I imagine this the best with stoic and/or tsun yans the best. You know those types that want to be perfect but only feels perfect when they’re with reader.

ive always loved these tropes as a kid, from mulan to that one tawog episode where darwin fell in love with fem! gumball and like this was even before i knew i wasnt cis but gahd AAAAAAA

also inspired by @moyazaika ‘s rival work. go read it!!

but anyways have the fic, lowercase intentional for first part to differentiate povs.

it was a dare given by your friend group earlier last weekend. wear the girls uniform and a wig for the entire month. it was easy to get the materials necessary for the most part. your mother had several wigs and was more than happy to style her son in feminine clothing. she was just amazing and supportive about your whims like that.

it didn’t take long for you to realize that no one recognized you in your new look.

the day started like many of your other ones at the school, you’d race your rival as the first one in class and whoever wins gets rights to a smug look on their face until the next thing you guys eventually compete on.

but unlike the crestfallen expression you expected — nay wanted — from that stupid pretty boy, you were greeted by what you could only described as complete bafflement.

“what?” despite having a different reaction from what you imagined, you managed to keep a composed appearance. “cat got your tongue?”

“ah. . .”

and that were the only words he said to you the entire day. nothing else. not a single groan of anger whenever you answered everything correctly, he didn’t even attempt at stopping you mid-way or disagree with you answer simply because he wanted to annoy you.

and so you couldn’t help it, as soon as the bell rang signalling lunch time you swiftly turned around to face him.

“are you alright?”

you inquired. not at all worried about his well-being at the slightest. you hated him with all your being after all and you didn’t make an effort to be soft with your tone either.

“h-huh?” he looked dazed. like his head had been in the clouds and you just yanked him down to ground.

your rival never got distracted.

“you—“ you reached out about to smack his face to keep him in check.

“if you’ll excuse me!” he smacked your hand out of the way, screeched at you, and then left in a hurry to who knows where.

nevermind that was definitely him. that silly brat hated it whenever you touched him. he must have just been having issues at home again or something.

Haoyu was trembling — shaking uncontrollably as his breaths turned more shallow by the second. His heart was pumping blood in places of his body where it shouldn’t have been in the middle of school hours. Sweat lined his entire skin and it didn’t help how the bathroom he rushed into had nothing to keep the temperature down.

Who were you?

You sat at his rival’s seat. That nasty kid that always got in his nerves. No one questioned the boy’s absence and he would have asked the teachers on what had happened if you didn’t suddenly take his breath away.

You were, ethereal. Otherworldy even. When he first saw you he was taken away by the way your hair moved in the wind (if only he knew . . .).

Still, he was far too distracted by [Y/N]’s absence to properly let the feeling simmer.

Then, all that went away when you reeled in his mind back at you again at class. You were incredible, capable, intelligent, and oh so perfect. But unlike that stupid child that usually sat in front of him, he did not feel an ounce of envy at all.

If only who could see your eyes as you spoke; the tone of your voice conveyed so much passion that he wanted to see in those beautiful (e/c) orbs.

And his prayers were granted by none other than the goddess that is you,

“Are you alright?”

Your voice? Oh your voice! Haoyu’s heard it already of course, but each new time you spoke it was like a whole new melody, a new piece that immediately turned into his favorite.

His mind was too fried with these thoughts, thoughts that his parents would no doubt beat out of him if they found out.

His feels the parts down there suddenly move. He wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the phenomenon. He wasn’t without his hormones after all. But this was the first time it ever reacted that way so strongly, like if he didn’t give it attention himself it’d explode.

“Mmph…”

And for the time in his entire life, Haoyu does something he knew his parents would definitely be disappointed if not livid about. A hand on his mouth, and another in his school uniform’s pants.

lunch time.

you usually spent those studying or preparing for the next class as hanging out with your friends always ended with you being too distracted to do schoolwork but today you had to show up with ‘proof’ that you went through with their dare.

“yiran ? yichen ?”

no response.

you sighed. as usual, the twins were late. what did you expect? those two would be caught dead before they could be early much less found in the library.

and so you spent the entire time reading,

unaware of the crowd that formed around you while you were busy studying.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yandere harem #yandere various #multiple yandere #crossdressing reader #crossdresser reader #yandere male #male yandere #fem yandere #yanderecore

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disillusioneddanny · 7 months

Text

Emergency Contact dick/Danny

Prompt: dick is in an incident and Bruce learns that not only is he no longer his sons emergency contact, his son is also married.

Bruce frowned as he listened to the police scanner, his forearms rested on his knees. There was a hostage situation in Bludhaven. He had seen it on the news in the middle of his work day at Wayne Enterprises. Not long after, Tim had come running in, pale faced and nervous. It seemed that Dick had been a part of the situation and was trying to get the suspects out of the bank.

The two were now hyperfocused on the scanners as the others sent check in messages every so often asking if they had heard anything from Dick yet. So far, they were planning on sending in a group of officers to invade the bank and take down the suspects. The main problem was that they weren’t sure how many suspects nor were they sure what all they had on them or the amount of victims inside of the bank.

Tim was gnawing at the bit to go and intervene. All of Bruce’s children were. The patriarch had to remind them, though, that Bludhaven was Dick’s territory and unless he asked for backup or some kind of assistance then they let him be. And so far, none of them had heard a peep from Dick. So they would each continue to monitor the situation and hope that their family member would be alright.

“Officers Grayson, Sanchez, Roarke, Blankers, and Miyap are in position,” a voice crackled out and Bruce squeezed his hands together tight, heart pounding. Why was Dick doing this? They didn’t know enough about the suspects to know that they would be able to apprehend them without casualties.

“Go,” a different voice ordered through the scanner and Bruce watched the news screen as Dick and other officers forced their way into the bank, guns raised and prepared to shoot if necessary. Bruce watched as flashes of light from gunfire flashed through the building and screams sounded on the screen, Tim turned up the police scanner.

“Shots fired, I repeat shots fired.”

“Suspects apprehended.”

“Shit! Grayson!” A voice shouted and Bruce’s blood ran cold. “We’ve got an officer down! I repeat, an officer down!”

“Get a car arranged,” Bruce said faintly to Tim. “We need to get to Bludhaven as soon as possible,” he said, eyes never leaving the screen as five suspects were brought out one by one. A gurney was quickly wheeled into the bank and moments later the paramedics wheeled out Dick out of the building. To the side Tim was calling Alfred to come and pick them up and make the drive to Bludhaven.

Soon he’d be getting the call from either the hospital or the chief of police to give an update on Dick’s condition or to tell them what happened. He was Dick’s emergency contact, after all. If anyone was going to be alerted it would be him.

The call never came.

Bruce, Tim and Alfred made their way to Bludhaven General Hospital and Bruce was already contemplating the words he would be having with whomever was in charge about how he had not been alerted of Dick’s current status. He couldn’t believe that the Bludhaven PD and hospital were so ill equipped that they couldn’t even call an emergency contact and make them aware of what had happened to his son, his precious boy, his eldest sweetheart whose smile was brighter than the sun.

Yes, he would be having words alright.

The three rushed into the hospital and Bruce stormed towards the front desk and rested his hands on the plastic desk carefully. “I’m here for Richard Grayson, he was a part of the altercation at the Bludhaven Bank,” he said, trying his best to keep his tone even. “I should be his emergency contact, Bruce Wayne,” he said, adding his name just for good measure. Just in case they didn’t know. However doubtful that may be.

They lady typed along the keyboard for a moment before she looked up. “I’m sorry Mister Wayne, but Detective Grayson does not have you listed as his emergency contact nor as someone who can obtain his information. I’m unfortunately unable to share anything with you.”

Now Bruce was going to see red. This had to be a mistake. He was Dick’s father. He had been his son’s emergency contact for as long as he had Dick in his custody. How dare this woman say that he wasn’t, that he wasn’t privy to Dick’s information! His sweet littile boy!

Bruce let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to maintain an aura of calmness. “I need you to call his doctor then, and obtain permission. I am Richard Grayson’s father, I should be listed on his emergency contacts list.”

“I’m sorry sir, but the only name we have associated with Officer Grayson is a Daniel Nightingale and he is already in the room with Mr. Grayson. I can call and let them know that you’re here but I can’t do much more than that, I’m afraid,” the woman said, looking beyond flustered as she grabbed the phone.

“Please do,” Alfred said, shooting the eldest vigilante a pointed look as he ushered Bruce and a shocked Tim away from the information desk.

“Who the hell is Daniel Nightingale?” Tim said, looking beyond stumped. “And why would he be Dick’s contact?”

“I have no idea,” Bruce said, his jaw set as he thought of ways to get around the information desk and find his son without anyone suspecting a thing. He could do it, he really could! He was the Batman!

“All I can find on him is that he’s a reporter for the Bludhaven Gazette and has written several high fantasy novels about ghosts,” Tim said with a frown. Bruce looked down at Tim’s phone to find a scrawny looking man with dark black hair, white streaks scattered throughout, crystal blue eyes and a wide smile. If he weren’t obviously a grown adult, Bruce would think that he was a Bruce Wayne Adoption Bait candidate. Otherwise, though, he was unfamiliar, Bruce had never seen the man before in his life.

“How does he know Master Dick?” Alfred asked with a frown as he glanced over at Tim’s phone.

“I’m not sure,” Tim said with a huff. The three looked up, though, as footsteps echoed in the near empty waiting room and a gangly man stepped through the doorway and gave the three men a sheepish look.

Bruce looked between the picture and the man standing before them and scowled. It was the same person.

“Hi, uh, Dick is still unconcious,” he said, walking towards the three vigilantes. “I didn’t realize he took you off his contact list for emergencies,” Nightingale said, looking clearly distraught.

“Who are you?” Bruce demanded, eyes narrowed.

Nightingale sighed. “He’s fine, by the way, in case you were wondering. Two shots, one in the hip thankfully didn’t hit anything. One in the thigh right above the major artery. Other than that, his kevlar vest took the brunt of it, he’s just very bruised. They knocked him out, though to give him stitches and get some rest but he’s going to be fine.”

“Who are you?” Bruce repeated, despite feeling calmer knowing that his precious boy was going to be fine. He was going to be benched for a few weeks but they would get someone else to patrol Bludhaven in his stead. Bruce would probably be able to get Red Robin or Orphan to take over the area while Dick was out of commission.

Nightingale blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “This wasn’t how Dick wanted to introduce me,” he mumbled, looking embarrassed. “He’s going to kill me. But I’m Danny Nightingale, his husband.”

“Dick isn’t in a relationship,” Tim blurted out as Bruce stiffened beside him. “He would have told us.”

Danny gave him a weak smile. “No, no he wouldn’t,” he said awkwardly. “Not if he hadn’t been ready, at least.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Bruce said, his heart aching. How could Dick keep this from him? An entire husband? Bruce’s entire world was falling down around him as they spoke. He couldn’t believe this, how the hell was his son married? How had he not been invited to the wedding? How had Alfred not been invited to the wedding?

Danny blushed even brighter at that as he pulled out his phone and handed it over to Bruce. Bruce clicked the button to unlock it to find Danny and Dick, drunk off their heads with a marriage certificate held up between them and a wedding chapel behind them. “It happened like four months ago? We had been dating for like five months beforehand and well it just happened. We decided to go ahead with it and stick to it. We’ve been married ever since. Dick didn’t want to tell you because he wants a redo, especially since I stole his thunder and apparently proposed to him with a ring pop.”

“Take me to him,” Bruce deadpanned.

“Woah, Big Bat,” Danny said, holding his hands up placatingly. “I can’t do that. He’s only allowed one visitor at a time and it’s me. You’ll just have to wait until he wakes up and they move him out of ICU.”

“I thought you said he was fine,” Tim said with a frown as he inspected the picture before searching on his phone to find the marriage license. Danny pulled his phone back and tucked it into his pocket.

“He is, it’s just as a precaution until he wakes up,” Danny said. “And when he does, I’ll come and let you all know how he’s doing and what his room number is. In the meantime, I have his phone on me and you’re welcome to call me any time you have questions.”

And with that, Danny fled from the room as quickly as possible.

“He called me Big Bat,” Bruce murmured. “Dick wouldn’t have told a man he barely knew all of our secrets, not without telling us first!”

“The marriage license is legit,” Tim said with a sigh. “Can’t believe he got married and never told us.”

“Hn,” Bruce muttered out grumpily.

…

Danny was going to die, he could feel it in his core. Either Dick was going to murder him for spilling the beans to his dad, or Bruce was going to murder him for telling him he couldn’t back to see Dick.

It seemed that his husband wasn’t exaggerating when he said that Bruce was insanely overprotective of Dick and would always see him as his baby boy. It was almost endearing if it hadn’t been so utterly terrifying to be glared down by Batman himself.

He shook his head roughly as he marched down the hall and back to his husband’s hospital room. Enough with that Nightingale, he said to himself. He was the star reporter for the Bludhaven Gazette, hell he had turned down that stupid news place in Metropolis when they offered a position. He was good, he was great and he was not going to let Bruce Waynce scare him!

He had dealt with much scarier than his father in law out in the field and he needed to remind himself of that fact.

He made it to Dick’s room and took a seat at his bedside, holding his husband’s hand in his. “I can’t believe you did this to me, Dick, you scared the half life right out of me,” he murmured, running his thumb along the back of Dick’s hand softly. “And now we’re going to have to deal with your father and it’s all your fault because you still haven’t quit the police force, you big dummy.”

He let out a huff and looked away from his husband. Dick had been talking about quitting since Danny had met him nearly a year before. He had realized that the police life just wasn’t for him and that he’d never be able to get rid of the corruption but he had been struggling to quit, to figure out what he would want to do instead. And Danny had been there to support him all the while but it was starting to worry the halfa. He knew that Dick was Nightwing, had figured out the identities of all the bats almost immediately upon moving to Gotham. It hadn’t been too hard for him to figure out. But then again, he was a journalist, he always knew how to sniff out the truth and the Wayne’s big secret was no different.

Of course, there was also the fact that he had also been a hero once upon a time and he didn’t care what anyone else said, you could always spot another hero a mile away if you knew what you were looking for.

He sighed and felt Dick’s phone vibrate. Already he was getting floods of texts from the Wayne Family.

This was going to be a long day.

…

“I want a divorce,” Danny seethed as soon as Dick opened his eyes. The cop gave his husband a tired smile and squeezed his hand lightly.

“Hello to you too, Dove,” he murmured.

“Your family will not leave me alone. Why didn’t you tell me you took Bruce off of your emergency contact information? He’s driving me up the wall,” Danny whisper shouted, trying to be mindful of his husband’s current state.

“I didn’t think about it,” Dick muttered. “How mad was he when you told him we’re married.”

Danny snorted and ran his fingers through Dick’s hair. “He bluescreened,” he admitted softly. “Definitely wasn’t happy about it, Alfred looked hurt and Tim looked like he thought I brainwashed you.”

Dick chuckled softly and shook his head. “Well they should move me to a general room soon so they can all calm down. Until then, I need you to take care of your poor, injured husband.”

The halfa laughed and pressed a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Never scare me like this again, Dick Grayson, or else you’re joining me on the ghostly side, understand?”

“Understood,” Dick mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed once more. Danny just sighed and fell back into his seat. Thank god he was Dick’s emergency contact, or else he’d have to have used his ghost powers to sneak in here to get his husband. Unlike Bruce Wayne who seemed to be following the rules and waiting in the waiting room, Danny was not a patient person and he would have absolutely refused to wait and not see his poor husband.

Anyone is welcome to add to this btw. I just needed to get it out of my head XD

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dis writes #danny fenton #batman #dis dreams

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gglitch1dd · 6 months

Text

Honey (Yakuza Eijiro x Baby Mama Reader)

Day 10 of Breedingtober

Your boyfriend finally comes home after 5 months away and as angry as you are with him, you're glad to have him home.

Warning: Implied murder at the end, SMUT, CHOKING/Breath play, BREEDING, unprotected sex, GUNS, a baby, reference of matching tatoos Words: 6k

“Oh who’s a good girl?” You praised as you washed Reika’s hair. The little baby giggled in the bath as she held onto one of her yellow rubber duckies as she stared up at you with ruby eyes.

You loved her more than you had breath in your lungs. She was your everything. Reika, the little chubby girl, was quite a character but she was the cutest little decision you ever made. Never mind how painful she was to deliver but nevertheless, you couldn’t regret a thing when she looked up at you like you were her world.

“You’re so pretty, Rei-Rei.” You cooed as you rubbed her soft cheek making her giggle as she put a soft hand to yours. “You ready to get out now?” You asked her rhetorically.

Before you could hear her not really necessary answer you heard something drop. However it wasn’t in the bathroom you were in. You paused as you turned your head to look out to the dark hallway.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you slowly stood up from where you were. All the windows were closed as far as you knew and you had cleaned up the apartment so there shouldn’t have been anything to fall down on the ground.

You looked to Reika. You didn’t want to leave her but you didn’t want to stay in case there was an intruder. You bent down to Reika putting a kiss on her head. You carefully moved to the door, peaking into the hallway. It was silent for a second, before another sound down the hall came again. You furrowed your eyebrows but let out a heavy breath. You carefully moved into the hallway, your feet covered in socks thankfully so that you didn’t make a noise. You quickly moved into your room. You moved to your closet, quickly opening up the safe and taking out the handgun.

You moved back into the hallway, holding the gun safely with one hand underneath it to steady the weight of the gun. You moved steadily, one foot in front of the other as you focused on moving forward. You heard scratching around your kitchen. You swallowed down hard. You reminded yourself that you had to protect yourself and your daughter.

No matter the cost.

It was something your boyfriend had believed in religiously and one you planned on carrying. You moved slowly as you put your back to the wall just outside the kitchen as you looked down at the gun in your hands. You prayed it was just some rabid animal like a possum or something or a cat that had slipped into your apartment.

Without thinking about it for much longer, you turned quickly to point your gun straight into the kitchen, your eyes catching on red and immediately focusing the barrel of the gun in that direction.

Instantly the perpetrator froze, one of the cupcakes you had made that morning in hand and half in his mouth. You stared into the ruby eyes of Yakuza boss Kirishima Eijiro. His eyes wide as he looked at you. He then put on a sharp cheesy smile as he gave you a small wave. “Hey honey.” He let out nervously. You lowered the gun as you stared at him. He swallowed down heavily before letting out a nervous chuckle. “I’m home…”

“Eijiro…” He carefully put down the cupcake, frosting already on his mouth showing that he had helped himself to one already. You scowled at him before letting out an annoyed growl. “You lying son of a bitch!” You shouted as you waved the gun as you stomped over to him. His eyes went wide as his back was pressed against the counter. “You told me that you were coming back! Where the fuck have you been the past five months huh!?” You shouted as you pointed the gun right underneath his chin making him still, the large redhead stared down at you, intimidated by your careless holding of the gun in your hand. “I’ve been here with a newborn for months waiting on your stupid ass and not a word from you!” He opened his mouth. “And I don’t give a shit about what Tetsu says because he isn’t you! I swear to God, I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to castrate you, mould your dick then burn it and then throw the rest of you away because-”

You were easily interrupted as the gun was taken out of your hand and you were disarmed. You were turned around and pinned against the counter, his large mass of muscle and height pressed you against the counter, forcing you to look up at him as he had you trapped in his embrace. Although you were a pretty skilled fighter yourself, nothing could beat the raw strength that Kirishima Eijiro had.

He tilted his head with a soft smirk, large hand wrapped around your neck, his pointer finger stroking your jaw as he looked down at you. “I missed you too, Y/N.” He let out lowly. You were angry. Of course, you were, but you couldn’t help but melt as he bent down and kissed you. He put the gun down on the counter and wrapped his other arm around you, deepening the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him in desperation, wanting him closer. You ached for him, you needed him just as much as you wanted to push him away. The matching ink on your arm, the same that he had, told everything it needed to.

Eijiro groaned as he separated from you, “God, I missed you.” He nearly whispered. “I missed you both so much.”

You stared up at him for a moment before frowning. “If you missed us, you wouldn’t have been away for so long.” You pushed yourself away from him.

Eijiro let out a breath as he watched you put on the safety and unload the gun as if it was something casual. “The case took longer than I expected, but I told you I wouldn’t take a step into prison and I didn’t.” You knew that was true. From the moment he had left, you kept your eye on the news for anything to do with the charges against your husband. You were lucky enough to know that the next time you would see him it wouldn’t be behind a thick pane of glass. “Then I had loose strings to tie up and business to take care of.”

“Like what?”

You heard a file be placed down on the counter next to you. You turned to look back at Eijiro. He had his large arms folded over his chest, his sleeves rolled up exposing the tattoo sleeve of a dragon on his left arm. He motioned to it. You didn’t say anything as you moved to check what was in the file. You opened it. Your eyes widened in surprise.

In it was evidence of ownership of a home, the keys still in one of the pockets. You flipped it again to reveal Eijiro’s will, and you noticed Reika and your names on it. You flipped it again to see documents. Life insurance, medical insurance, a bank account in Reika’s name with money that would be unremovable and developing interest until she was eighteen. Everything. The more you flipped through it, the more evidence you found of everything done to ensure a safe future for you and Reika should anything happen to him.

And right at the end was a marriage contract for the both of you.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

Eijiro smiled as he looked over at you. Nothing was particularly said but he moved over to you. His movements were slow, but he got to you in no time with long strides of his legs. He pulled you into his arms. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” He whispered near your ear. You closed your eyes, putting your head to his heart. That’s all you wanted to listen to. His heart. The thing that beat for you and your daughter alone. You closed your eyes letting your tears fall as you held onto his warm figure.

You nodded your head as you just enjoyed the feel of him. “It’s okay…. Just… just don’t do it again, please.”

He chuckled and bent down to kiss the top of your head. “I would never do such a thing.”

Before you could even think of kissing him, you both heard a loud whine. That’s when you remembered your poor Reika who was all alone in her bathtub.

You gasped as you quickly rushed into the hallway. “Reika! I’m coming baby!” You shouted as you ran into the bathroom. The little one had thrown her duck out of the bath, her face flushed as she was near to tears. Her chubby face was in distress as she sat in the bath with a sad look on her face. The moment she saw you again, she reached up to you with chubby small hands, her cheeks wet as she cried for you. “Aww, Reika. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You apologised as you grabbed her fluffy towel and lifted her up into your arms. You rubbed her to make sure she was nice and warm as you held her in your arms. She continued to cry, sweet kitten sounds as you placed kisses to the side of her head. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. Daddy got me distracted, but I’m here now. Mama is here. Mama is here.”

You gently rocked her in your arms, trying to calm her down as she rested her head against you. Appearing in the doorway was Eijiro, who peaked his head in after putting the gun away in the safe. His eyes found their way to you as you tried to calm his daughter. He was slow to move in, not wanting to interrupt your space with her. But then Reika looked up from your shoulder over to him. Ruby met ruby.

And Eijiro was sure he fell in love.

You looked down at Reika and then to Eijiro. Her crying had simmered down but she still seemed rather in a fragile state. You carefully walked over to Eijiro who looked down at her. You gave him a gentle smile and carefully put Reika in his arms, making his eyes grow wide. He carefully held her to his chest, putting a hand behind her head as well, to support her head. The both of them looked at each other with identical expressions. Wide ruby eyes and almost confused looks.

Then Eijiro started crying.

He had a smile on his face but tears came to his eyes. “Hey…” He spoke softly. He sniffed as he put a kiss to her forehead. “Hi, Reika. It’s Daddy, princess. Daddy’s here. Sorry I took so long.” You watched him carefully hold her and look down at her as if she was his entire world. Reika didn’t say anything but at least she stopped crying. She reached up to put her soft hands on his face and Eijiro lost it. Full on sobs, snot and tears. It took Reika by surprise to see him cry as he put his head down and squeeze her to his chest. You chuckled at the sight, watching such a big man fight sobs at the sight of baby not even six months old.

Your daughter looked at you almost as if pleading for help.

You put Eijiro on night duty. He had not done it since the first few weeks after she was born so he was a bit rusty but with your supervision, he was a champ. He managed to change her, dress her (he put on her onesie the wrong way the first time) and then watched all wide eyed and interested as you fed her and slowly put her to bed.

You were grateful that she was just like her father in that aspect, one good feeding and she was out like a light, sleeping with her little hands joined together as you covered her in a blanket and allowed her to sleep in her crib. You led Eijiro out of her room as you let out a heavy sigh. You moved to your bed, moving to sit down. You were exhausted and you probably needed to sleep soon.

Eijiro moved over to sit down next to you as you flopped back to lie down on the bed. You stared up at the ceiling for a second. You heard a low laugh from Eijiro, making you flick your eyes to look over to him. You raised an eyebrow wondering what had him all giggly. He leaned back to look down at you. “You’re… you’re so good with her.” He let out lowly with a gentle smirk. “Seriously. And she’s… she’s perfect.”

“Well, of course she is. I made her.” That made him laugh. You smiled gentle as you looked at him. You put a hand over his. “I’m glad you think so, Eij.”

“Mh.” He carefully moved to scoop you up in his arms rather effortlessly, never ceasing to catch you by surprise. He pulled you up so that you sat on his lap, straddling him with his hands on your hips as he stared up at you with a stupid grin on his face making you giggle. “You know, she is so cute. So cute in fact, that she deserves a sibling for being so cute.” He reached up and kissed you.

You couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, holding him tightly as you let him kiss you. You leaned back with a chuckle once you realised what he had just said to you. You shook your head. “Oh we aren’t doing this again, Eijiro.” You let out lowly. “I know how you think.”

“Oh but you were so sexy whilst pregnant, sugar.” He moved to kiss your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your pulse making you weak. Every kiss to your body had you sinking deeper and deeper into his grasp, so much so that you were sure that before long you would be nothing but clay in his grasp to mould to how he pleases. “You’re sexy right now. Fuck~ All the weight you put on got me chubbing in my pants, honey.” He grabbed at your body harsher, moving your hips down. On instinct, you grind down on his clothed dick that you could already feel pushing against you.

It was true that after putting on weight during your pregnancy, you really didn’t have the time to lose it. It was one of your biggest insecurities but also something that you had sort of tuned out since you were so busy taking care of Reika all the time, you barely noticed how you looked. Of course, you did see members of the Yakuza clan like Tetsu, Mina, Sero and Eijiro’s sister, Tamami, was over all the time to play with your niece and take care of her giving you time to actually take a shower and relax for a bit.

However right now, your stomach was doing flips, feeling his big hands on your body, kneading and grabbing at your skin like he couldn’t get enough of it. He let out a low groan as he moved his kisses back up to your jaw making you gasp. “God, I’ve missed you.” He breathed out.

That was your breaking point. You quickly moved to grab at his shirt, undoing it as fast as you could. The large redhead laughed at your eagerness, finding it rather amusing that you were so eager to have him, but it would be a lie to say that he wasn’t the same. Quickly, you pulled of his shirt, allowing him to rip it off his body and you were on his lips once more. You let your hands feel his warm skin and muscles. You had missed him so much. You had ached for him and his body so much that nothing could satisfy you the way that he could.

“I want you.” You whispered against his lips. You moved to take off your oversized shirt, throwing it off somewhere behind you as well as your bra, and moving back to kiss him eagerly. He immediately went to pinching your nipples making you whine at the pain and pleasure that bloomed together. Eijiro fell back onto the bed, before flipping the both of you over so that you could lie underneath him. He moved to kiss down your body, giving each of your nipples a kiss, promising to give them attention soon, before going down between your legs.

If there was one thing more than anything that Eijiro loved to do to you, it was eating you out until you were crying on his tongue. He got off to it and man did you love it. He threw your thighs over his shoulders as he went mouth first straight into your cunt. You sucked in a breath immediately before letting out a low moan at the feeling of his tongue on your clit, sucking.

You couldn’t help but whine. It had been a long time since you had last gotten any sort of attention like this and you didn’t exactly have the time to get yourself off when you had a newborn in your life now. But now… you felt as if you were in heaven. Eijiro held your thighs as he wiggled his tongue inside you. He loved watching you wiggle and whimper as you didn’t know how to handle him anymore. He found it adorable watching you, but more importantly, he loved watching your sex.

He stuck two fingers inside of you, feeling you clamp down on him, almost wanting more than what he was giving you. You whimpered as you moved your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. He let out a laugh. “You so needy, baby?” He asked.

“Eijiro please don’t tease me.” You begged as you looked down to him. “Don’t tease me, just…” You grunted as you moved your hips some more. Eijiro curved his fingers making you moan. You were so close. So fucking close. “Just fuck me already!” You shouted at him. “I’ve waited long enough.”

A smirk pulled to his face, finding you so amusing. “God, I love you.” He chuckled as he stood up, his fingers still inside you, making sure you would be able to take his cock as he took off his pants. Oral can wait for later, right now, you wanted a good dicking down and that’s what he was going to give you. He felt you clench around his fingers at the sight of his cock.

You loved Kirishima Eijiro.

But if there was one thing you’d save about him, it would have to be his cock.

It was gorgeous. Thick like a coke can and long enough that you were sure you had still never taken the entire damn thing. You were always left crying and screaming on the thing and damn did you love it. Eijiro had ruined sex from any other man for you and you couldn’t care less. Not when you got to keep his cock all to yourself.

A grin moved to his face as he carefully moved to shift your body further up the bed along with him. You pulled him down for a kiss, pulling him closer to you so that you could feel him, taste him and breathe him in all at once. Eijiro held you securely kissing you back as he slowly retracted his fingers from inside you, a groan leaving your mouth. You felt so empty without him but you knew that being patient for just a bit longer will get you what you craved.

Eijiro gripped your thighs, separating from you as he pushed your thighs against your chest, bringing your knees to your shoulders. Eijiro kept a hand down against the underside of your thighs as he stared down at the view in front of him. A low groan left his mouth as he slowly stroked his cock at the sight of you all pretty for him. You twitched as you felt the head of his cock move up and down your slit, spreading his precum all over your slit. You bit down on your bottom lip with a whine, so desperate just to take him.

Slowly you felt the head of his cock slip into you, making you both groan. The feeling of his thick cock inside you was euphoric, feeling every twitch and press into your sex. Eijiro was slow, savouring the wonderous feeling before finally pushing everything inside you. You wiggled a bit, moving to adjust how you were to a more comfortable position as you stared up at him.

With the go ahead from you, Eijiro made swift work into pressing you down, folding you in half and ramming into you hard. You let out moans as you felt him move in and out of you, your sex gripping on to him tightly as if you didn’t want to separate and be without him. He groaned at the feeling of your sex wrapped around his cock, but continued on his pursuit.

The rhythmic thrusts into you were enough to keep your mind numb and happy, content moans left your mouth as you enjoyed the action. Eijiro shifted before thrusting in again, hitting a spot inside you that had you releasing a loud shout. He hit that spot again, and again, and again, and you almost felt as though you were gonna scream. It was an endless assault on your sex.

“Oh shit! Oh fuck- Eijiro! Eijiro right there!” You encouraged as you moved to grip onto his shoulders instead of holding onto your legs, letting them rest on his shoulders. “Right fucking there!” You arched your back as little as you were allowed to with a moan.

However, you were cut off by Eijiro placing a hand around your neck, squeezing gently making your eyes go wide. He stopped for a second as he leaned down closer to you, a smirk on his face. “Now keep quiet honey, you’re gonna wake up my daughter from her precious slumber. Don’t need her waking up because her mother’s too much of a slut.”

He didn’t let go of your neck, squeezing it enough to just leave you breathless but it made you wetter too. You groaned with your eyes rolled back at the blissful feeling of so much pleasure and no air all at the same time. It was almost as if you were floating, and yet you were going to explode at any second. It felt heavenly. Eijiro flexed his fingers allowing you to gasp, your cunt spasming around his cock as you abruptly felt yourself cum hard around him. A strangled keen escaping your mouth as you sunk down closer towards him. However, another squeeze to your neck had your cunt gripping his cock like a vice.

Eijiro loved it. He loved feeling your pulse in the palm of his hand, he loved the feeling of your wet sex wrapped around him, making him feel seconds away from coming inside you. And factually, he was. He held you tight as he focused on fucking into you, heavy breaths tumbling out of his mouth as he focused on moving in and out of you, pounding as he hit your cervix.

He couldn’t think straight even if he wanted to. A groan tumbled out of his throat as he looked up for a second. God, he had missed you. He had missed you so much. He had missed your smile, your laugh, your hands on his body and your cunt. You were still so tight around him and it made a rush go through him knowing that this was the same body that gave him his beloved daughter. “Fuck~ I’m gonna cum.” He rambled out as he let go of you and placed his hands either side of you. You gasped as you finally got air unrestricted. You reached up and held onto him as you took deep breaths. Eijiro had his head buried in the crook of your neck. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck, you feel so good. You feel so fucking good. I’m gonna-”

The words were taken right out of his mouth as pure euphoria went through his body. Eijiro let out a groan of your name as he held you, his thrusts now slow as he came inside you. You felt so full, feeling him press inside you and cum inside you. You were too tired to care, and honestly you always loved the feeling of him taking you raw. Nothing was better than it. You were addicted to the floating endless feeling of him and you joined together, how it was meant to be.

You were both heaving by the end of it. Exhausted, tired but so content. Then you realised…

You let out a groan. “Eijiro, not again! You came inside me.”

It took your man a second before an amused laugh tumbled out of his lips. “Honey, I thought you loved it when I did that.” He pushed himself back up, his thick hair cascading down his back angelically, reminding you of how gorgeous he was.

You looked up at him tiredly with a pointed look. “I’m not on birth control. I haven’t been for more than a year now.” You reminded him. Eijiro grinned with a smug look on his face. Just at the sight of his expression you swatted his pecs making him laugh.

“What!? I think we can give Reika a sibling or two.” He spoke lowly.

You glared up at him. However, there was an itching feeling inside you that wanted more of him. No matter the risks. You turned to look at him. Eijiro felt your gaze on him and turned to look at you. He chuckled but moved over to you again. Before he could kiss you, you both heard crying.

Crying came out of the baby monitor making you both pause. You groaned but Eijiro chuckled as he gave you a small peck. “You get some sleep, I’m on night duty, remember.” You smiled as you watched him get up, slipping on his pair of boxers before leaving the room. “I’m coming, Reika. Don’t worry.”

You watched with a gentle smile as he left the room. You were glad to see him back with the two of you, where he belonged.

The music of the club was obnoxiously loud. So much so, one could feel the thump of the beat of the current song playing in one’s soul. The dark atmosphere lit by dim and neon lights made the almost delirious feeling of being in the club heightened. Like being stuck in a fever dream.

Kirishima Eijiro walked into the club, his shoulders relaxed and his head held high. An attendant of the club immediately led him towards the VIP section. Kirishima watched everything around him inquisitively. This was one of his newer clubs. Just one of the many ways he got his money, but Eijiro knew everything about the club despite its recent opening.

It was his club after all. The neon sign of Riot indicating exactly who owned the whole establishment. Everything from the bottles of liquor that lined the wall of the bar, the cushioned seats of the booths, to the men and women entertaining in the skimpy outfits on the stage and around the club. Everything was paid for, owned or owed to him.

Or it would be, if people didn’t think stealing from him was a good idea.

Eijiro walked up the double glazed glass stairs, up to the VIP floor. There weren’t many people on the floor. Perfect. He didn’t particularly need an audience for tonight. He walked over to the group of men that sat together, waiting on the redhead.

The moment his presence was registered, instantly all four of them stood. “Boss.” They said simultaneously, serious expressions on their faces.

Eijiro gave them a curt nod, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He sat down on an isolated cushioned one-seater in front of them. His legs spread as he turned his head to look off the balcony at the stage. A pretty brunette on stage, in turquoise heels and matching lingerie. The redhead turned his attention back to the four men who hadn’t moved. Although the four men stood at attention, intimidated by the large man that sat in front of them, they were more aware of the baby that sat in his lap.

A pretty little baby girl with short black hair in little pigtails and red bows. She sat in a red puffy dress and little shoes as she held a rubber duck in her hands. She had wide beautiful ruby eyes and looked so innocent in contrast to her father.

“Sit, gentlemen.” His deep voice rumbled out as he motioned to the seats they were previously sitting on, with thick fingers. At his orders, they sat in front of him, not as relaxed as he seemed to be. “So…” Eijiro started a hard look on his face, he put a large hand to Reika’s head, twirling one of her pigtails. “Report.”

The highest-ranking member in front of him, Mr Tsukishima started speaking but Eijiro wasn’t listening. He knew everything this man was saying to him was utter bullshit and was surprised that even when sitting in front of him, he had the balls to lie to him. It made his jaw tense and his hands itch to hit something. His large fingers ticked in anger, however the feeling of his daughter’s soft little hands hold onto him thumb in interest calmed him down. Reika leaned back against her father, putting the rubber duck in her mouth to chew on.

Like an angel of saving grace, a beautiful woman walked over to them. Black heeled knee high boots clacking on the ground, instantly catching Eijiro’s attention before even seeing her. You appeared to his right, a tablet in hand and your eyes half lidded in an alluring look. Eijiro looked to you. You wore the black club uniforms, not a performer but a waiter. A name tag written, Honey.

“Anything you want, gentlemen?” You asked, balancing your weight on one leg, highlighting the fishnet stockings you wore over your skin.

Eijiro looked you up and down. His red crimson eyes eating you up unashamedly. “Rum. Ice.” He ordered simply.

You took all their orders, noting it down on your tablet. You nodded your head once you got all of them. “Order coming up.” You turned on your heels, eyes glancing at the redhead, an unnoticeable wink sent his way as you passed by him, hips swaying dangerously close to his head. Reika looked up to you with a gurgle of excitement, waving you goodbye as you left.

The redhead noticed the men across from him and the lingering gazes on you. A surge of pride and possessiveness blooming from his chest as his sharp smirk broadened. He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, let's cut to the chase.” He adjusted his seating. “I came here to find out two things. One I already know. First off, where is my money.” He listed on one of his thick fingers. His face not showing any signs of anger or resentment which made the men across from him stiffen. “And two, are you lying to me? Now I already know that one, from the moment you opened your mouths, so that leaves me with the missing five million yen.”

“Mr Kirishima…” Eijiro’s predatorial blood red eyes shot to Mr Tsukishima. His face expressionless as he waited for an explanation. It made the man in front of him swallow hard as he adjusted his seating. A nervous chuckle came from him. “I… we… have n-no idea what you’re talking about.”

You came back with their drinks, having fetched them from the VIP bar. You placed the four men’s drinks on the table but personally handed Eijiro’s to him. The redhead took a sip of the alcohol in his glass. He motioned for you to come closer to him. “Clear?” He asked.

You nodded your head. “Empty.” You spoke in borderline silence only for the redhead to hear.

Eijiro nodded. “Gentlemen, I would like you to meet my lovely second in command, Kirishima Y/N.” He motioned to his right over to you. At the name of the infamous Yakuza’s wife, they paled. You waved over to them with a smile. “And she’s been telling me all the shit that has been happening behind my back, here.” Eijiro continued. “Now, I am a generous man, so I’ll give you all five seconds to put all my money back into my account.” He stated simply. His expression was void of anything. “One.”

“Mr Kirishima, we can explain-” They started making excuses.

“Two.” Eijiro wasn’t in a merciful mood tonight. He had to fly all the way down here to deal with these fools, when he should be at home. When you all should have been at home together. “Three.” Mr Tsukishima started typing on his phone furiously as the others started spewing nonsense Eijiro couldn’t bring himself to listen to.

You pulled out a suppressed pistol from one of your boots. You turned off the safety and checked the weapon over. Reika reached up to you in want with a whine. “Mama.” She waved over to you.

“Not now baby, mama’s working. Just give me a minute, please.” You said sweetly with an air kiss to her.

“Four.” Eijiro downed the rum and placed it on the glass table in front of him. He adjusted Reika on his lap, grabbing her rubber duck and squeezing it to draw her attention. “Fi-”

“IT’S THERE!” His phone vibrated. You paused and looked towards your husband for his call. Eijiro raised an eyebrow in surprise. He pulled out his phone. A notification from his bank. “It’s there! Just please, Mr Kirishima. Mercy.” They begged.

Eijiro waited a second. He smiled. He stood up, his daughter hypnotised by the duck and the squeaky noises it made in his hands that kept her looking anywhere that wasn’t at them. Without a word he nodded to all of them and turned around. All four of them breathed a sigh of relief. Eijiro made his way to the exit then he stopped. “By the way gentlemen,” He tilted his head to look back at them. “You didn’t pay me with interest.” He raised a single hand and motioned to you. “Honey, do you mind?” Eijiro looked down at his beautiful daughter as he squeezed the duck, his large body blocking out the scene you would create. “Reika, princess. You ready to go home?” He asked sweetly.

Without looking back he went down the stairs, hearing only the sounds of bodies falling on the ground.

This was a great way to end breedingtober. Just a reminder of what I had said early in october. Some stuff came up and i can't finish the last two things. I'm sorry to disappoint you but I really can't. I've just been posting what has already been written for quite some time now. So yah. I apologise for that once again.

#mha x y/n #kirishima x reader #mha #kirishima smut #dad kirishima #dilf kirishima #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro #eijiro smut #eijiro kirishima #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou smut #eijirou x reader #yakuza kirishima

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marcsburnerphone · 3 months

Text

And they were roomates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (very minimal), injury(very minimal), john not knowing how to handle certain situation.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3!! - part 4

-----------

That's when it started, the weird energy that set the scene for every interaction between the two of you. He couldn't help but start to see this so-called “tension” gaz had mentioned fulfill its way into your lives. Not only was it your beauty, it was the domesticity that settled in your relationship. You need that lightbulb in your room replaced, you politely knocked on his door, car troubles? Yeah John should know how to do that. But what scared him the most wasn't the attraction he felt towards you, it was your lack thereof. He never seemed to catch you sparing him any extra glances than were necessary. Unlike him he couldn't help but catch his greedy eyes secretly soaking in every inch of you when given the opportunity.

But he couldn't be further than wrong

Because at the opposite end of your home your mind seems to be obsessed with the thought of john. What a man he was. He must’ve been getting some back on base and you couldn't even be jealous, aroused though definitely. He's actually all 6 foot something of fine, absolutely climbable. But god does that man often look like he wants not a thing to do with you. Especially most recently you rarely even see him and when you do he barely speaks or spares you a glance.

—-----------------

“Hey, haven't seen you in awhile.” you surprise him extremely early in the kitchen one morning.

“Oh um good morning, I’m fine just been a bit busy. Why are you up so early?” He lies then quickly changes the topic knowing being awake during these hours of the morning isn’t your forte.

“Scheduled a client for 6AM instead of 6PM and it's too late to cancel.'' He hums in response, willing himself to say something more but his mind comes up blank as it often does in your presence.

So he leaves without a word and nothing in hand he just leaves. And you stand there absolutely thrown through the loop at the moment that you two just shared.

—--------------

“We were doing great as roommates. You know I was comfortable and he seemed comfortable but now I swear that man avoids me like the plague.” you say to the longtime client in your chair.

“Maybe he’s just not social.” She chimes in, you concentrate while trying to part her hair before replying.

“I could see that being the case if he hadn’t been so social the previous two weeks you know, we’ve made meals in the kitchen together, watched television in the living room so I don’t understand what changed.” you say applying product to the sectioned hair.

“What if he doesn’t like you?” your hands pause for a second as you ponder the thought.

“Well I guess he doesn’t have to like me to live with me.” you say with very visibly discontent.

“But you on the other hand strive when people like you.” she replies, reading right through you.

“Well yeah I think anybody would.” you shrug.

“Not a military man who’s probably widely hated.” She's always right and you hate it.

“What's not to like about me?” you genuinely couldn't come up with an answer yourself.

“Are you a messy roommate or do you bother him a lot or do you nag him for his mess?” You can’t think of doing any of those but maybe asking for his help from time to time.

“I might be bothering him but nothing I would consider too much , just some help from time to time.” she laughs from her seat and you unenthusiastically spin the chair she's in to face you.

“Was it in the contract that he'd have to help you from ‘time to time’.'' You give her a quizzical look and she just continues.

“Men like to do the bare minimum and that's it. They hate being bothered. Take it from me. I'm married with three sons and they're all the same. Oh they have to do the dishes, sure, but will they dry them, or put them away? No, because that's not what I asked.” you hum understanding her point but still finding it hard to see john really feeling that way.

“So then I shouldn't ask him for anything and maybe he'll come around?” you ask in an unsure tone.

“yup.” she replies blunt, fast and very sure of herself.

—-----------

So you listened, this whole week you've not asked John for a thing which was pretty easy up until now. Your luck never fails to run out at the worst times. A flat tire in the middle of the road on your way home. You pull off to the side contemplating what to do as the sun is beginning to set and there's really only two options.

One, call John and ruin your streak of leaving him be. Two, call the car service company and pay their ridiculous prices to change the tire out. Of course you go with option two cause calling john seems to make you more nervous.

It takes 3 hours for the mechanic to get to where you are, change the tire, and point out other imperfections about your car that you pay no mind to. When you finally make it home you’re bothered, exhausted and broke.

John doesn't miss the unusualness of your late arrival but also doesn't question it, even though he wants to. Your groans of frustration echo through the hallway and he immediately can tell it was a bad day.

You change out of your work clothes and go into the kitchen for a snack as you do your daily phone call to your sister to tell her about the events of your day. John creeks his office door open to hear a little better but nothing noticeable.

“He charged me six hundred dollars, I mean how is that even legal?” You complain into the phone that’s balanced between your neck and shoulder.

“It was just my tire that was flat, nothing else.” you follow up while chewing on an apple. You swear you could cry by repeating that monstrosity.

John can't help but feel a bit confused and upset that you hadn't just called him instead of calling whatever dick that charged you that much for something so simple. Changing a tire is an easy 30 minutes that he definitely had on his hands especially for you. You had not hesitated asking for help before so what's changed now?

—-------------

“Okay, unscrew the old bulb and screw in the new bulb, very simple.” you reassure yourself as you stand on top of the tall ladder to replace the porch light. It’s icy outside and cold sweeps under your layers of clothes making your normally shaky hands shakier.

“Okay okay- damn it.” You drop the bulb that burnt out onto the floor watching the glass scatter.

You screw the new one in and step down, closing the latter with frustrated groan, then going to pick up the bigger shards to toss out before sweeping. You should’ve known that bulb glass was insanely thin and sharp but sometimes your brain leaves out the important stuff.

“Ow, fuck fuck fuck.” You cry out at the shard of glass that forms a long clean cut on your palm. You cry as you run into your home holding the cut tightly. Finding the sink you turn the water on and rinse it clean. Your ears don’t comprehend the loud footsteps that make their way towards the kitchen.

“What happened?” A deep voice sighs out behind you.

“Nothing.” Your hiccups escape involuntarily as it continues to bleed dramatically. You squeeze your eyes shut as it begins to burn more and more.

“Let me see.” He tries to grab at your hand genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, it’s just a cut.” You resist him by keeping your hand under the water.

“Cut from what?” he's a bit frustrated at your refusal of letting his trained mind and hands help.

“I was changing the light bulb outside and one broke.” you admit quietly.

“Why didn’t you ask me to do it?” once again what is with you no longer asking him for his very available help.

“Cause I can handle myself John.” You’re irritated at the obvious evidence that you cannot. Your non wounded hand rips a paper towel from the roll and you hold it to the cut to go bandage it in your room.

You leave John standing in the kitchen and don’t even look back as you make your way to your room. He stays in that same spot for a second wondering where your random change in attitude is coming from but in the end he comes up blank and goes out to the porch to clean the rest of the glass up.

—----------

You feel terribly guilty when you wake up the next morning to see the porch swept clean and ladder put away from the previous night. You toughen up and put your big girl pants on to go apologize. You knock on his bedroom door and hear ruffling on the other side before he answers.

“hey john i'm really sorry for-” you stop noticing him dressed from head to toe in his military attire and damn.

“For what?” He takes notice of your pause and one up.

“For um the way I acted last night I know you were only trying to help and um why are you dressed like that?” You can’t help but question it.

“I have to go on base for a little bit, maybe a day or two. It shouldn't be too long but who knows, let me grab my check for you.” He walks back into his awfully clean room and grabs something out of a drawer and hands you a white envelope that consists of his monthly rent.

“Oh okay.” You can’t even hide the blush that laces between your features and although he notices it he can’t pinpoint the reasoning.

“Also don’t be sorry we all have our days and I shouldn’t have overstepped.” You nod in response not really knowing what to say.

“Okay bye then I guess.” You awkwardly wave at him even though you stand mere inches away from his tall frame.

“Bye doll.” He says before you walk away entirely thrown over whatever conversation that was.

----------------------

comments and reposts and appreicated <3

thankyou for all the love on this story so far.

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy

@rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @spyderdoll @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppixie @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22

#captain price x female reader #angst #john price #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #cod mwii #john price x y/n #john price x you

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incorrectbatfam · 26 days

Note

What are their go to conversation starters?

Alfred: Lesson #18 of behaving like a human being: initiating conversations.

Alfred: At a formal event, you are expected to engage with others in an appropriate manner. For this exercise, I want you to pretend I'm a guest and impress me.

Dick: Good evening, sir. I really appreciate you having here. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.

Dick: *smiles and gives Alfred a firm handshake*

Alfred: Excellent job, except one thing.

Alfred, holding up his arm: It was not necessary to take my watch. You're not a mission, Master Dick.

Dick: But what if I am?

Alfred: That's a lesson for another day. Next.

Jason: Now, hypothetically, if a very bad man killed your son, wouldn't YOU—

Alfred: That's enough. Next.

Tim: My name's Tim and I'm afraid of wasps because they have a photographic memory of all who wronged them.

Alfred: Dismissed. Next.

Damian: *walks away to play with the dog*

Alfred: We'll come back to him. Next.

Duke: Wanna beta-read my Luke Fox Final Fantasy MMA AU fanfic?

Cullen: Wanna beta-read my Destiel Superhell fix-it fanfic?

Alfred: Next.

Steph: Last night I dreamt I was a waffle, but I was also the plate and the fork and myself eating the me-waffle.

Alfred: That's disturbing, next.

Cass: *stares*

Alfred: You are supposed to say something.

Cass: Something.

Alfred, sighing: Next.

Barbara: Hi, I'm Barbara. You must be Alfred, right? How are you liking the party?

Alfred, acting: I'm enjoying it very much, thank you.

Barbara: Okay, so you didn't notice me remotely disabling an army of robot cockroaches. Phew!

Alfred: We were so close. Next.

Harper: Can you believe it? Some asshole disabled my robo-roaches.

Alfred: For the last time, Miss Harper, no robotic insects at galas. Next.

Carrie: Hello, sir. Can I get you anything?

Alfred, acting: A glass of water would be nice.

Carrie: Sure thing. One cup of locally sourced water, coming right up.

Alfred: Never mind. Next.

Kate: Your daughter is hot.

Alfred: Wrong answer. Next.

Helena: Tell me everything you know about the Maroni family or so help me—

Alfred: Different script, Miss Helena. Please turn to page 67 for gala conversations.

Luke: What does it mean when someone you know sends you their fanfiction about yourself?

Alfred, rubbing his temples: Next, please.

Bette: Head's up!

Bette: *spikes a volleyball*

Alfred, catching it: Next.

Selina: Wanna see pictures of my cats?

Bruce: Wanna see pictures of my kids?

Alfred:

Alfred: I think we should start again from the top.

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valeskafics · 4 months

Text

"Mīsios" - Aemond Targaryen x Twin Wife!Reader

a/n: this can totally be read as a standalone but - anon request for a sequel to "savior" where aemond's twin wife is pregnant! reader described as having hightower features (dark curly hair + dark eyes). it's almost the end of the year and so i wanted to dedicate this lil fic to @barbiedragon. 🩷

Summary: After there is an attempt on your life, while you are with child no less, your husband makes sure to keep his promise to be your savior, your big brother. Your protector.

TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, pregnancy, childbirth complications (no death), assassination attempt, beheading, blood, oral f receiving, some angst

Word Count: 2,410 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

There are certain benefits to being married to your beloved twin. For example, a simple look shared between the two of you can convey the words of an entire conversation. Aemond is immediately able to tell if you feel uncomfortable in a given situation, quickly coming to your rescue. He knows you better than you know yourself, and you? You are much the same, a touch of your hand or a kiss from your lips able to soothe the fire that rages inside of him, to quell his worst impulses.

However, a negative aspect of being married to your twin is the line between brother and husband can blur quite a bit. Aemond has always been protective of you, but ever since the loss of your nephew, Jaehaerys, and Aegon sustaining life-threatening injuries at Rook’s Rest, his tendencies have grown even more pronounced. And when you told him you were with child? It was only with harsh words from your mother and elder sister that he agreed to you even leaving the bedchamber. He wished for you to remain in bed, not wanting any harm to come to you or the unborn babe. However, Helaena and your mother sharply reminded him that a normal amount of walking and activity is necessary for a healthy pregnancy.

His duties as Prince Regent, ruling in Aegon’s stead, take him from your side far more often than he would care for, but you insist that it is he who Aegon entrusted the running of the kingdom to, he who must take care of things while your elder brother recovers. He and Helaena are still grieving the loss of their son, but even so, they rejoice in the news that you are with child.

Though Aegon and Helaena, and your mother of course, support you in your arguments with Aemond, support your need for independence, things change dramatically after the attempt on your life. While you sit in the nursery, spending time with little Maelor and Jaehaera, an assassin comes, silent and swift. It is only Maelor’s scream that alerts you to his presence. You immediately grab the dagger Aemond has instructed you to keep inside your bodice and bury it in your would-be killer’s side, his sob of pain alerting Ser Criston to his presence, thinking of nothing but the safety of the two children under your charge. However, you do sustain a cut on your cheek, one that has Jaehaera sobbing as she touches your face, your crimson blood coloring her tiny hand.

You feel a pain in your stomach, and once Ser Criston has the assassin incapacitated, he rushes to your side, helping you to a chair. He stares at you, concern evident in his gaze, eyes going wide when he sees the slightest amount of blood color the skirt of your dress. He rushes you to the maester’s, carrying you in his arms. He remembers holding you like this when you were a little girl, when a fever nearly stole you away from the realm forever, taking you to the maesters then as he does now. But this? This feels far more terrifying. He paces outside the door, watching as Aemond, your mother, Helaena, and even Aegon - assisted by his wife - come to see what has happened.

Aemond ignores his mother’s pleading for him to remain calm and bursts through the door, rushing to your side. He looks you over, his fingers gently brushing against the stitches on your temple. He gathers you in his arms, burying his face in your neck, and surprises everyone present when his body begins to shake as he sobs.

“I should have been there to protect you,” he whispers weakly, the feeling of your fingers running through his hair soothing him, “My sweet sister. My little love.”

“I am unharmed, brother,” you say gently, “As is the babe. The maesters have said that the blood was nothing to be concerned about. That I should rest as much as possible these next few moons, but that our child is unharmed.”

“But you are not,” he says, staring pointedly at your wound, “Oh, idañitsos… My sweet wife… I promise you, this shall not go unpunished.” (little twin)

When Aemond has your would-be killer brought before him, he stands at Aegon’s side, his brother sitting the throne for the first time since his injury. The whole thing has become a family affair, you standing at Aemond’s other side, Helaena and your mother to the right of Aegon. You rest a hand on your swollen belly, ignoring Aemond’s protests that you should not have come. That you should be in bed, resting. He moves his hand to hover over your stomach, and you let out a sigh.

“Lēkȳs, please,” you say quietly, tiredly, “It was my life, the babe in my stomach who was endangered. I wish to be present for the proceedings.” (big brother)

Aemond wraps an arm around you as the man is brought in, irons around his wrists and ankles. You lean against your brother, your blood running cold as the man glares up at you, his shirt still stained with blood from where you managed to stab him. You watch as Aegon declares that the punishment for an attempt on his little sister’s life is death. Your eyes go wide as you glance between your family and the man kneeling on the floor. You move past Aemond and rest a hand on Aegon’s arm, staring at him imploringly.

“Not death, brother. Send him to the Wall. I do not wish for anyone to be killed on my account.”

Aegon smiles at you affectionately, “Your tender heart is one of the reasons we love you. But it is also the reason we must protect you. This man threatened not only your life, little one, but the life that grows inside you. As the Protector of the Realm, I cannot allow that to stand.” He pauses, “And even if I wished to pardon the man, sending him to the Wall, I know our brother would never forgive me for allowing this crime to go unpunished.”

You look at Aemond who nods, affirming Aegon’s words. Aegon gestures for Ser Criston to draw his blade, for the King’s justice to be carried out. However, Aemond steps forward, drawing Blackfyre from its scabbard. You watch wide-eyed as he raises the great sword above his head and brings it down swiftly, severing the man’s head from his body. Blood coats his hands and his cheek, a smirk on his face as he hears the sound of the crowd gasping at a prince being capable of such brutality. You turn to bury your face in your mother’s shoulder, who runs her hands through your dark curls that look so much like her own.

Helaena rubs your back while Aegon thanks Aemond for his service to the crown.

You and Aemond walk to your chambers, you leaning against him, heaving a sigh as you move to lay down on your bed. You smile at Aemond as he moves to sit at your feet, rubbing them gently. It is something that you tried to stop him from doing at the beginning of your pregnancy, but he refused. You feel his thumb run along the arch of your foot and let out a sigh of contentment. After a few moments of this, of him caring for you so tenderly after the violence you saw him so capable of, you burst into tears. You are unsure why, perhaps it is the stress of the assassination attempt, perhaps it is simply emotion due to your pregnancy. But immediately, Aemond pulls you into his lap holding you close.

“I was so frightened,” you admit, “All I could think about was leaving this world without kissing you one last time. Telling you how much I love you.”

Aemond rests his forehead against yours, his voice hushed. He kisses the tip of your nose, rubbing your lower back, feeling the way you tremble in his arms. He has always hated seeing you cry. You, his beloved little twin. The one he swore to protect. His sweet wife. The mother of his future child. He strokes your hair before finally speaking.

“There is no danger that could ever take my idañitsos from my side. I would cross the Seven Heavens, the Seven Hells, go to the shores of Asshai if it meant keeping you with me, hāedus.” (little sister)

“Never leave me alone in this world,” you demand, clinging to him, your eyes seeming to stare right into his soul, “Promise me, valzȳrys. Promise me now.” (husband)

Aemond nods, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm and comforting against your skin, “Never, ābrazȳrys. I will always be at your side, as I have since the day we came into this world.” (wife)

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers trace your wound. You lean into his touch, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It does not hurt anymore.”

Aemond presses a kiss to the raised skin, “You are so much more than just my wife. You are my twin. My better half. The person I trust most in this world. The love of my life. I will always protect you. I promised once that I would be your savior. I intend to honor that.”

“You will never outgrow the instinct to be my big brother,” you tease, resting a hand on his cheek, “No matter how long we have been wed.”

“It is not an instinct,” he replies, smiling as you trace his cheekbones then his nose with the tip of your finger, “You are mistaken. It is my honor and my duty to protect my idañitsos, my little twin in every way possible.” He gives a pointed glance at your stomach before smirking, “Though you are not so little anymore.”

You gasp, moving to slap his chest, pouting when he catches your hand, “Are you calling me fat?”

“Not at all,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your palm, “You are precious. And beautiful. And full of my child. Just the way I like you.”

You giggle, bringing his hand to your stomach where the babe kicks relentlessly, “Our zaldrītsos gives me no rest, much like his father.” (little dragon)

Aemond feels the sensation of the babe’s movement, laughing breathlessly, “Our little dragon is already so eager to meet the world. Perhaps he’ll claim a dragon, just like his kepa.” (father)

“Ha!” You scoff, “I might just have a heart attack.” You pause before asking, your voice quiet and vulnerable as you meet Aemond’s gaze, “Do you think we will be better parents than Father was?”

Aemond nods, moving to caress your face with the back of his hand, “We will be incredible parents. You carry so much love in your heart. This babe will never feel unwanted as we did. Never feel as if he is not cherished by his parents.”

You bite your lip before speaking the words you’ve had on your mind for some time now, “If the choice is between me or the babe, save him.”

He scoffs, “Do I look like our father? You will always be my priority, hāedus. I am not so desperate for an heir that I would sacrifice that which I cannot live without.” Aemond presses his lips to yours in a sweet yet so very sensual kiss, conveying how much he adores you, how much he desires you in it as his tongue moves against yours. When he finally pulls back, he murmurs, “I am your mīsio, and you are my princess.” (protector)

You pull him back into another kiss, his words lighting a fire in you as you grind yourself against his thigh, “My love… Mīsios.” (protector)

He chuckles, hands moving to grope at your rear, his lips moving to your neck, scraping against your skin as he whispers, “I know the maesters said that I cannot bed you until the babe is born due to what happened a few weeks ago…” Aemond grins at you devilishly, “But I do believe they did not say anything about me using my tongue.”

You gasp as he gently pushes you onto your back, lifting the skirt of your dress as he positions himself between your thighs. You feel him press a hot, open-mouthed kiss against your core before he begins lapping at your folds. Every nerve ending of your body feels as if it is on fire, your hands grasping at the sheets as Aemond’s tongue moves in and out of your wet cunt. You feel him press a kiss to your pearl, his teeth grazing against it, the coldness making you shiver just before he takes the sensitive nub between his lips and suckles at it. You whimper his name, pleading for more, your hips canting against his eager lips. His hands caress the flesh of your thighs, teasing your folds as he continues mouthing at your pearl, over and over and over until he feels you come undone against his tongue. Your eyes roll back and your toes curl as you cry out his name in the throes of ecstasy.

Aemond moves to sit beside you, pressing a kiss to your lips once more. You can taste yourself on his tongue as it moves against your own in a perfect rhythm. You remove Aemond’s eyepatch, tracing his scar before you whisper softly.

“Now we both have battle scars.”

He chuckles, “Indeed we do, my beloved.” Aemond’s lips move to press against your temple as you lean in, your head resting against his chest, “We are two , but we are one. It has always been this way. We came into this world together and we shall not leave it unless it is together. We have been through much, you and I. Our lives have always been intertwined.”

“We are more than husband and wife,” you agree, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, allowing it to slowly lull you to sleep, “We are a part of each other. Never to be dissevered. Never to be kept apart.”

Aemond hums, running his fingers through your curls, watching you with nothing short of adoration as your eyes close and your breathing grows slower, “Rest now, my love. Sleep and dream of me and our future.”

Three moons later, when you hold a healthy, squealing babe in your arms, you smile at Aemond.

Your husband, your lover, your savior, your brother.

Your protector.

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