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chuluoyi · 1 month

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𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent a another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

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rottiens · 3 months

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How often do you think Neuvillette makes love to reader in his dragon form? And how do they prepare for it all?

⊹ tags . . 18+, neuvillette in his dragon form, monsterfucking, established relationship, female reader.

⊹ wc . . 1.4K

⊹ notes . . didn't expect to write so much for this lol but, as always, I really enjoy the ideas you put in my head and ily.

Neuvillette is very shy at first about his true nature. Very withdrawn and perhaps ashamed of his original form. He has spent so much time among humans, understanding them and being part of them, that being with you, he forgets that this non-human part is still kept inside him.

You know the Chief Justice of Fontaine and the way he presents himself to others, you know how respected he is, how loyal he is; you know your husband and you have no doubts about him. But you don't know the Dragon Hydro. So, it is understandable that he feels shy to show his true nature before you.

Your sweet words gradually encourage him to trust you and what you assure him. You promise him so many times that no matter what you see, nothing will make you turn away from him— you do this by kissing his hand, pampering his neck, adoring his body that eventually, Neuvillette decides it's time.

As expected, his dragon form is as majestic as you had imagined. The imposing Neuvillette appears before your eyes, a being of breathtaking beauty and mystical presence. His winged figure combines the grace of an eagle with the strength of a dragon. His plumage is a symphony of colors that oscillates between deep blue tones and brilliant azure hues, creating a visual effect that evokes the power and serenity of the ocean.

You witness the magnificence of his transformation, a sight that takes your breath away and fills you with awe. As you approach, his eyes, deep and full of centuries of wisdom, look at you with a mixture of vulnerability and trust. You are honored and amazed by the faith he has placed in you, knowing that now, more than ever, you must keep your promise to stand by his side, accepting and loving every part of him, human and non-human.

His wings, broad and ethereal, appear to be sculpted from liquid light, adorned with undulating patterns reminiscent of gentle ocean currents. Each feather is outlined with silvery sparkles, giving the impression that a piece of the starry sky has been caught in its wingspan.

Neuvillette's head is noble and distinguished, with piercing eyes that sparkle with ancient wisdom. His silver mane flows back like a cascade of liquid silver. His words echo throughout the room, and he lovingly rests his forehead on yours, speaking to you through your thoughts. All the energy that fills the room bristles your skin, electric sparks that make your fingers move with a life of their own towards his face. Neuvillette drops into your hands, gazing intently at you with narrowed eyes.

Watching him, you can't help but feel that you are in the presence of an entity that transcends the mundane, a living connection between heaven and earth, the ethereal and the tangible.

"You are so beautiful, Neuvillette," you confess quietly to him. He lets out a sort of purr that fills the cave where you are, his tail visibly vibrating a tender blue, tossing back and forth like the waves of the sea.

The passing years have made him more comfortable at your side in his majestic form. You snuggle next to his body as he curls up next to you, his purrs like whispers on the wind lulling you into a placid slumber. But it is not until mating season that he realizes that opening up more with you has been both a blessing and a danger.

In that period, his desire becomes uncontrollable and his dragon nature intensifies. Neuvillette struggles to maintain control, but your gentle words and the trust you have placed in him give him the security he needs to fully embrace his true nature.

The mating gifts he has brought to you —pearls that glow even in the dark, coral crystals, jewelry created from sapphire— were now accompanied by something else. Something he considers terrible and carnal. Grunting, touching more than usual in public, slightly more possessive grips. It's second nature for you to join together in bed, to merge your bodies as one, to sink into you and make love to you all night long until you're both exhausted. But this season, there's something about Neuvillette that has him all the time with his pants tight, his hands sweating under his leather gloves and his boot clacking against the floor, he needed to be back home soon.

. . . He breathes heavily as he holds you against him. Your forehead rests on his as he recites one of the ancient poems stored on scrolls. His mouth is open, salivating, his majestic body jerking with every touch of your delicate fingers on the scales of his face.

"What's wrong?" your tone is almost pained, as if you are hurt. With a frown. Neuvillette hates himself for making you worry.

His whole body shudders as soon as your fingers tangle in the mane that hides his sharp eyes.

"My body doesn't seem to listen to me. I'm sorry, I'm burning up."

Your countenance softens, a tender smile tugs at your lips and Neuvillette jerks away from you, but you are quick to act and reach out your hands, stopping him in his attempt to escape.

"It's okay," as always, you encourage him. "I love you. In this and all your forms, Neuvillette. You have nothing to hide from me."

You prompt him, urge him to follow and explore his desires. It hurts his chest to see you so beautiful for him, to see you covered by a thin transparent cloth that barely covers your nakedness; your erect nipples are visible in the moonlight streaming through the cave and he pauses to think how firm they would feel under his tongue, your thin cotton panties soaked by a sticky layer of your arousal that provokes him just and only to push them with his claw and watch you squirm beneath him. Neuvillette suffers from not being able to control himself. But seeing you ready for him makes his animalistic senses fill with adrenaline.

Soon, he leaves the comfort of your warmth to push his face against your small body. You are so fragile, and he watches you carefully. His nose sniffs you, his scales tickle you, and you laugh. But Neuvillette is so focused on what he wants that he pays no attention to anything but that smell.

He descends under your body, determined. His face pushes the fabric up while he stands on all four paws so as not to crush you. His teeth tear at the fabric and you groan in surprise, for you have never seen him so desperate. Quickly, his long tongue darts out, cuts through the moonbeam and sinks between your thighs, exploring your slick folds with ferocity.

The dragon growls hungrily, devouring everything he can reach with his insatiable tongue. The split tip of his tongue does a dance on your clit, and you raise your hips in search of that pleasure, clinging to the silken sheets as waves of pleasure lash you. Neuvillette grunts, salivates and devours you as if for the first time. You melt with each lick until the impending end of your orgasm hits you.

Even after, he continues to lick you slowly, still greedy, still hungry.

Adoringly, his nose is wet from every trace of skin he gets, worshipping you like a deity.

After this, shame consumes him, so embarrassed to let this barbaric behavior that he has shown to no one else come to light, those instincts that make him lose his composure. Yet, with you by his side, promising him that everything is fine, that you are fine, Neuvillette allows it to happen a second time and then a third. How often? I think it happens spontaneously, but especially when he is in heat, he can't help but take you in his original form, in fact even if he won't admit it, in this state it is his favorite way to make love to you. Although he may lose control of his thrusts, he always tries to be gentle with you, always leaving a mark or two after the session.

These always start with him first in his human form, stretching you with his fingers, making you cum several times with them, then with his split tongue. Finally, when you're ready, one of his two cocks slides into you smoothly, so deep you don't remember how to breathe. Deep inside, he longs for the day when you can take both at the same time.

#wr #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #cw monsterfucking

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cloudyzeusy · 2 months

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Omega Gojo

He would smell like sandalwood, earthy and a little bit of musk and he flaunts it proudly. He was never ashamed of his status; he takes joy in the fact that it hurts Alphas to lose a fight to an omega.

He loves his pack scenting them and being around them surprisingly he gets very annoyed when he doesn't see them for long periods of times he gets moody. Especially Yuuji who is his favourite student so it's no surprise a lot of his nest has his clothes in it. It may annoy you but there's nothing you can do about it.

He loves a sweet treat it helps coax him out of his stubborn mindset.

He's quite fluent in a lot of different languages like English, French, and German so when he gets pissed off he starts speaking a different language on purpose so you don't understand him.

He is quite intelligent and powerful so sometimes his ego gets the best of him more often than not. So it's your problem to sort him out. Gojo is a bit of a brat that's natural so overstimulation or edging is the only way to make him go back to his non bratty state. (He loves a spanking too much).

He has the most powerful omega eyes you have ever seen you are so weak to them and he uses it to his advantage. With a little leak of his scent and a whine in his voice he knows you'll give in. And when you don't he bares his omegan fangs which are cute rather than anything.

Hates when you command him because he is independant and obeying commands 'drags him down'. Unless during sex - commands get his eyes all wide and him hard.

He loves cuddles and hugs. He is very clingy especially during heats he needs your body next to him otherwise his eyes well up with tears. He loves you kissing him; it gets him all purring and releasing his happy pheromones.

His heat comes on very strong and lasts for like 5 days in which you have to take care of a very moody and needy omega begging for your knot and i guarantee by the end of it your dick will be broken. As soon as the heat is over all his confidence is drained and he's embarrassed. Threatening to hit you as you mimic his moans of "Alpha!" "Knot p-please"

#zeusy☁️#sub character #top male reader #seme male reader #jjk #gojo x male reader

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in-som-niyah · 6 months

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GirlDad!Jason who supports you all throughout your pregnancy; holding your hair when you get sick, rubbing your sore feet and ankles, holding you through cramps/braxton hicks, buying you everything you craved etc.

GirlDad!Jason who cried for hours after she was born. His little girl, just as beautiful as you, all bundled up in soft blankets. He never believed he could love someone so much, it was like his entire body was burning with love and compassion for this little bean in his arms. For once, the world stopped, just for him.

GirlDad!Jason drives the most carefully he ever has in his life when coming back from the hospital. Despite your incessant giggling about how you've never seen him so scared, he drove like a damn senior citizen. He was carrying the most precious cargo, could you blame him?

GirlDad!Jason who changes diapers, feeds, bathes and plays with your daughter. He never leaves her for more than 5 minutes, and is involved to the point of mild annoyance. You would put your daughter down for 5 seconds and return to her gone, and in his arms. It's the most adorable thing though, you wouldn't trade it for the world.

GirlDad!Jason who can't stand to see your daughter upset. It's a trait he developed when she got to the toddler age, always fussing about everything she can't have and Jason giving in. Every time.

GirlDad!Jason who cries on her first day of kindergarten. Would never admit it though, but he hates seeing her grow up. He dreaded the day she learned how to tie her shoes and zip up her coat independently. It makes him feel like she doesn't need him anymore :(

GirlDad!Jason who will, without fail, play princesses, hair salon, tea party and barbies with his daughter. It doesn't matter if the world needs saving or if Bruce is up his ass, his daughter comes second to nothing. Even if it's to kiss a minor booboo she got while running around the house.

GirlDad!Jason who always brings back little trinkets and toys for his daughter. Her bedroom will be cluttered with stuffed animals and shiny things that caught his eye or reminded him of her. She would anticipate his key in the door which meant daddy brought home something for her. No matter how old she gets, he won't stop.

GirlDad!Jason who absolutely fucks up bullies. Be it in kindergarten or in college, Jason will make sure she and her friends are never bothered again. I cannot disclose his methods for legal reasons.

GirlDad!Jason who doesn't freak out about periods. He's so loving and supportive and doesn't ever make her feel ashamed about it. He'll bring her tea, hot chocolate, hot water bottles, painkillers, heating pads and rub her back if she's in a lot of pain. He'll take the day off to stay with her, and never force her to go to school on those days.

GirlDad!Jason who absolutely spoils his daughter shamelessly. Mom said no more sweets? Well dad sure isn't going to place a bag of candy under her pillow the next day. She wants a car for her 16th birthday? His baby gets a pink Porsche with a bow on top. She's obsessed with X artist? All the merch in the world miraculously ends up in her room.

GirlDad!Jason who will tower menacingly over her first partner. It doesn't matter how much you or your daughter like them, Jason's imagining a thousand ways to hide their dismembered body.

GirlDad!Jason who needs to be talked down from killing said partner when he finds his daughter balled up in a crying mess on her bed when they break up. Nobody makes his precious girl sad. He'll definitely egg their house without your knowledge. He buys her everything she could ever ask for to make her feel better, no matter how stupidly expensive.

GirlDad!Jason who's always up to a conversation. No matter how embarrassing or personal, he'll listen and give honest advice. Because he's so open, your daughter almost never hides anything from him.

GirlDad!Jason who bawls after dropping her off at university. Again, would never admit it, but sleeps on the floor of her bedroom for the first month she's away. He can't help but miss his little (adult) girl. He also flips through pictures and videos on his phone of when your daughter was little and sheds a few tears. Honestly it only makes you love him more.

GirlDad!Jason who still doesn't like your daughter's college partner. He's better this time around, but still. Don't put murder past him. Yet.

GirlDad!Jason who cries when your daughter shows him her shiny new engagement ring. He's so excited yet terrified. His baby girl is all grown up now.

GirlDad!Jason who walks your daughter down the isle with the brightest smile on his face. He slowly comes around to liking her fiancé(é) and honestly wishes them well.

GirlDad!Jason who meets your daughter at the hospital, ready to meet his new granddaughter for the first time. He holds her in his arms, just like he did his daughter, and gleams knowing the cycle is repeating itself. He couldn't be more excited.

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a/n: sequel to this post i guess??? i needed something cute with jason and his daughter bc..... well..... we don't talk about my own father :D

night night guys

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason peter todd #red hood #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #dcu #jason todd comfort #robin jason todd #dc robin #dad jason todd #daddy issues lol #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight #in som niyah

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fae-of-fiction · 2 months

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✧ ass, boobs, or thighs? — they’re asked the important question; oliver aiku, michael kaiser, alexis ness, nagi seishiro, kunigami rensuke, and shidou ryusei

✧ note: i’m so excited to start writing/posting for the bllk fandom! i won’t blab too much here, but i do want to say thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy! <3

✧ word count: 0.7k

✧ tags/warnings: fem!reader, sexual/suggestive content, language (excuse my potty mouth), some body descriptors, allusions to chubby!reader (but nothing too definitive), not proofread, my writing :,)

it’s quite bold of you to assume that oliver aiku would choose just one — he loves all three, as well as some unmentioned options. aiku just loves your body period, and he worships every part of it equally. he worships it with his hands, lips, teeth, tongue — everything. aiku just loves to squeeze you all over and taste your skin, loves to feel the softness against his palms as he gropes you roughly. depending on his mood, he may put extra focus and attention on one particular part of your body, such as your nipples or your hips. but for the most part, aiku wants to simply feel your entire body, which can make foreplay a rather extensive and pleasant affair.

michael kaiser is the pure embodiment of an ass man. there’s nothing more stimulating to him than the luscious curve of your cheeks, especially when you’re wearing some tight jeans or leggings. the mere sight of that jiggle is enough to have him bricked up instantly. ass eater, bottom feeder, globe prober — kaiser wears these titles as a badge of honor, proof of his obsession with your ass. expect kaiser to touch it at any chance he gets, whether it be via a slap, squeeze or graze. if he could, kaiser would fall to his knees and bury his face into it — he simply loves your ass too much.

meet the dark meat extraordinaire, alexis ness. he loves the deadly combo of ass and thighs — with just a slight more emphasis on thighs. the thicker they are, the better in his opinion. ness loves to grab by the handful, as well as sink his teeth into the tender flesh and hear you squeal. but his favorite thing is to have them caging his head, squeezing and trembling as he devours the heaven between your legs. he wants you to completely suffocate him with them — who needs oxygen, anyway?

tits, tits, tits. big tits, little tits, tits that are right in the middle — nagi seishiro loves them all. the poor guy tries his hardest to pay attention to what you’re saying, but he can’t help the way his eyes fall to your chest; especially when you decide to don a tank top or low cut shirt. he’s always overcome with the urge to cup them in his hands, and in most cases, he caves to his intrusive thoughts — even in front of others. when in private (or otherwise shielded from the eyes of others), nagi doesn’t hesitate to pop your bra and lift your shirt up so he can slip a nipple into his mouth. he simply loves that shit — your boobs are almost always littered with bites and hickeys, and it isn’t uncommon for your nipples to be sore from nagi’s habit of sucking them.

kunigami rensuke isn’t ashamed to admit just how weak he is for your hips and thighs. he absolutely adores the curve of your hips, and finds the most satisfaction in squeezing the meat of your thighs in his large hands. no matter what he’s doing, kunigami’s focus is immediately captured when you do something that causes your shirt to slip up, and he nearly froths at the mouth when he sees the skin of your hips teasing the hem of your jeans. he has to physically restrain himself from falling to his knees in front of you to worship it. it’s the perfect mixture of cute and sexy to see, and it drives him absolutely wild every time.

picking a favorite part of your body is simply impossible for shidou ryusei. to him, it’s the same as asking whether chocolate or vanilla ice cream is the superior flavor — it’s all in the eye of the beholder, after all. and for shidou’s beholder eye, your whole body is erogenous. every dip and curve is sultry and irresistible. it’s not uncommon for shidou to have a hand on you at all times; sometimes it’s merely resting against you, but other times it’s squeezing or pinching. he’s got quite the habit of groping you subconsciously simply because he loves the feeling of your body in his hands — or against him. when getting down and dirty, shidou makes it his goal to touch, kiss, lick and bite every inch of your body. he wants to taste and feel you in your entirety — no matter how long it may take him to do so.

comments, likes, and/or reblogs are not required but are greatly appreciated! <333

#bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock x reader #oliver aiku x reader #michael kaiser x reader #alexis ness x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #kunigami rensuke x reader

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theloyalpin · 14 days

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Lezone, a student who survived the apalachee high school shooting in georgia made a song for his teacher and the other victims. i felt like sharing this because this cesspool of an app is so full of antiblack freaks who constantly act like rap promotes nothing but violence and sexism when you clearly don’t even listen to it and just fucking hate Black people so you want to demonize anything centered around, created by, and still heavily influenced by us. this was his full caption:

I'm pretty sure y'all watched the news, seen or heard about the horrifying mass shooting at apalachee high school, when everything was going on my mind wasn't in the right place and I wasn't taking it serious because it just did not feel real.. this some stuff you see on the news from across the country, feel bad for a couple seconds and go on wit your life, but I just couldn't and still can't believe that it was MY school. On the night of September 4th when I got home l turned on TV and just kept seeing my school everywhere so l decided to tune in and do my research just to find out my 4th period teacher Ms.Irimie was one of the innocent victims that were killed, I met her my freshman year and I had her as a substitute teacher for my 3rd period class and you already know how it get when you have a sub, I really regret disrespecting her and when I came back to apalachee my junior year she hardly remembered me but she accepted my apology and respected me for apologizing, man bruh I suck at math so bad I can't solve a math question to save my life but Ms.Irimie never made me feel ashamed of myself, she understood that I got kicked out of school my freshman year over petty lil referrals and never wrote me up for coming to class late or having my phone out, she use to pull me for small lil pep talks after class it was 4th period so not got lie I was ready to go home and wasn't really trying to hear anything she was saying but looking back I really regret it and I really appreciate her taking her time to sit and talk with me & help me, The day she died she had the fattest smile on her face with her lil dimples when she seen me and asked me to come into class on time and asked if I was okay.. man I wish I could go back and give her hug, I never thought that was gonna be my last time seeing her smile and speaking to her, I really don't know much about the other victims but i pray for speed recovery to those who are injured and thank God they're alive, and I send my condolences to the families of those who lost their loved ones, WE as students who survived really can't do nothing but keep our heads up and pray and thank God for keeping us #Foreverlrimie❤️🕊️

nonblack people are encouraged to REBLOG this especially since you can never seem to tag antiblackness when you engage with dumbass antiblack racist polls like the one i linked 🙃

#tumblr polls #apalachee high school shooting #georgia shooting #school shooting #gun violence #gun violence tw #antiblackness #racism #forever irimie #tiktok #vid #u

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amjustagirl · 2 months

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Chapter 1

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 4k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

Once a month, Hoshina Soshiro drops by your apartment for tea with you.

It isn’t often that you both get the same day off. Him, with his vice captain duties that never end because Kaijus don’t deign to give him a break, as he often complains. You, spending hours if not days buried in the blade forgery at Izumo tech so much so your parents remark dryly that they’ve forgotten your face. But every so often, the universe smiles upon you and you get to spend an afternoon sitting on your narrow balcony with your oldest friend.

It always begins like this.

He drops a plastic bag full of fizzy drinks on the table that only he drinks, whilst you brew a pot of tea. There’s dessert in the fridge that you get to feed his sweet tooth, and he’ll consume both because you’ll claim you have no appetite. After a few perfunctory questions about your wellbeing - the same as always, nothing’s changed, he’ll turn his mind to the sole focus in his life.

“You gave the latest tech to my brother?!” he yells, outraged. “His main weapon isn’t even a blade.”

“Orders are orders”, you respond. “Besides, didn’t I just tweak your katanas last month?”

“About that”, he grins at you, somewhat sheepishly. “I’ve got more ideas -”

“Not again”, you groan.

He’ll rattle off a long list of things he wants you to work on next month. Blades made out of some kaiju bone, just to test its mettle. A blade to be worked into his boots - an idea he cheekily admits stems from some stupid shounen manga he reads in his spare time. So many of his ideas belong in the trash bin, but you entertain him anyway, studiously jotting down each of his requests.

“You’re lucky I put up with you”, you tell him.

Lazily, he flops onto the floor, rolling to lie his head in your lap. “As if you wouldn’t”, he laughs, poking up at your cheek.

You don’t get the chance to answer him. His phone goes off, as it always does, and he has to go.

“Seeya next time”, he waves, without leaving you another glance. The sliver of sky between the buildings surrounding yours is dark when you get up from your seat to clear the cups.

Your cheek still stings.

Your family always had close ties to the Hoshina clan. The clan of swordsmiths sworn to the Hoshina clan of swordsmen. A tie that can be traced centuries back to the Edo period to today. Your father crafted his father’s blades in the fires of your family’s forge, yet another in your family’s lineage who were born to serve the generations of Hoshina swordsmen.

Even though you were born a girl, you never accepted that it should be different for you.

You were only seven when you accompanied your father on a delivery to the Hoshina estate. Your stockinged feet echo in the wooden corridors that stretch out before you, seemingly without end. There are portraits of imposing swordsmen in every other room, blades displayed, their former owners’ eventual fate captioned beneath. You are too ashamed to admit that you’re afraid of one such painting with kaiju-like yellow eyes that seems to glare at you that you bolt when your father leaves you aside to talk business with the Hoshina patriarch.

Foolishly, you forget that the Hoshina estate dwarfs your family home. After the fifth rock garden you come across (which admittedly to your seven year old self, seems to blend into each other), you are well and truly lost, so you sit on the porch of some courtyard and wait to be found for a stern reprimand by your father.

Clang.

But you’re drawn by the sound of steel clashing, so you follow your ears, and your eyes thank you as you watch two boys spar with dull blades.

The older, with silver hair, has a clear edge. He’s taller and stronger, so he bullies his younger opponent into a corner. The younger, with dark hair, doesn’t seem daunted, standing his ground with precise swings and savage slashes that his older opponent only manages to parry with difficulty.

Though you hide yourself behind a pillar, the older boy spots you anyway, breaking off the fight to grab you by the front of your top.

“Intruder”, he shouts, waving his blade at you.

“I’m - I’m sorry!” you squeak. You panic, fearful that he’ll throw you out of the estate, because if you can’t even figure your way out around the compound, there’s no way you’re going to find your way back home across half of Osaka, so you hiccup and cry and beg to be let go -

“Hey! You’re just looking for an excuse to get out of a losing fight.”

Courage has never been your strong suit. It’s easier for you to hide behind your father or older brother’s legs, so you’re taken aback by how quickly the younger boy jumps into the fray on your behalf, defiant even in the face of a larger opponent.

Your captor’s nostrils flare. “What did you say?!” he demands, but he lets you go with a sneer.

“Another round then”, the younger boy says, as he tugs you to your feet, brushing the dust off the pretty kimono your mother took the effort to dress you up in. “Maybe this time you’ll actually be serious -”

His brother brandishes the blade at him. “I’ll beat you to a pulp, you insolent brat.”

You spend the afternoon watching them from a safe distance until your father finds you, apologising to Hoshina-sama for his wayward daughter.

You’re formally introduced then to the brothers - Sochiro the elder, who doesn’t even acknowledge you with a nod, and Soshiro the younger, who smiles like the sun when you tell him that he’s amazing in a fight.

“I’ll show you more next time!!”, Soshiro says. His eyes remind you of violets blooming in spring.

Your mother hears of your adventures in the Hoshina estate.

She comes to brush your hair after your bath. “The Hoshina family sees ours as a vassal clan”, she states baldly, as the comb sticks on a particularly tricky tangle. At your noise of confusion (and pain, because she’s none-too-gentle at getting the snags out of your mane), she explains. “That means our family is bound to them by our usefulness in making katanas, the instruments of their success.”

She clucks her tongue at your obtuseness, as you stare at her, uncomprehending. “We supply swords, not brides to them. There are no engagements between their sons and our daughters. If you wish to associate with the Hoshina boys, you must be of use to them.”

Perhaps, in her ungentle way, your mother was trying to do you a kindness.

But you took her warning as instruction instead. So, though you’ve always been afraid of the loud forge your father and older brother work in, you badgered your father for enough lessons in sword making, hovering over him every minute you have out of school so you can learn everything you can.

It’s worth it, when Soshiro comments on the shiny scars on your forearms the next time you visit.

“I’ve been learning how to make katanas”, you explain, suddenly shy.

“Wow!” you catch another glimpse of violets through wide eyes. “You must’ve worked really hard!”

You peek at the blooms of bruises on his shins, the angry red scratch across his face. “So have you”, you reply.

He beams, dragging you off to play.

More often than not, that devolves into him showing off his latest moves, and you applauding his every action. He revels in the attention, which you find strange because surely everyone with eyes should be able to discern that Hoshina Soshiro is wildly talented, even at the tender age of eight, but then whenever his brother surfaces with taunt regarding Soshiro’s swordsmanship, you can see the chip of his shoulder grow, an invisible burden that drags him into the ground.

As an outsider, it’s not your place to comment on the unfairness of being knocked around by a boy five years his senior, so you try your clumsy best to bandage Soshiro’s wounds and slip in an encouraging word or two. You never want to see the violets in his eyes wither and die.

“I’ll make you the best blade in the world when we grow up”, you bump your elbow against his. “So you can beat him.”

“Promise?”

You loop your little finger around his. Half moons brighten into stars.

// how abt a blade that can separate into 2 //

// or or or //

// maybe three?! //

// would your ancestors roll in their grave //

You wake up to a text. Or three.

// you wound me //

// seeya later //

// visiting Izumo tech for my new suit!!! //

// make sure you lend me your lunch discount at the cafeteria //

You snort.

<Cheapskate>. The rhythm of your conversation thrums. <are you asking me to have lunch with you>

// someone needs to keep me safe from my fangirls //

// don’t leave me in their clutches //

An eye roll.

< Die >. You turn your phone facedown, resolutely refusing to respond.

Despite your complaints, you end up eating lunch with him anyway.

It’s difficult to concentrate on your meal when your childhood friend turned the most eligible bachelor in the Japan Defense Force sits across from you in a skintight uniform, your giggly co-workers sitting two rows down watching his every move. So you push your tray away and just watch him as he chatters away through a mouth full of food (something he’d never do back home because he’s been raised with manners befitting the second son of the esteemed Hoshina clan, but around you he seems to turn into a demented manchild), but you’ve always found it endearing how he’s his chaotic true self around you -

“New recruits are coming in next month so I don’t know when we’ll have time to catch up -”

“There’s nothing to catch up on when you keep text me in the middle of the night with your train of thoughts - “

“That’s all work related”, he says. “I want to know how you are doing.”

You’re not about to tell him that your parents have informed you that they’re tired of you mooning after a man who’ll never love you back, and have started haranguing you via text to get your ass back to Osaka so you can meet suitable men your age who’d be willing to accept an unladylike wife with burn scars trailing up her forearms.

“As if you really want to know”, you grumble. “You’re only interested in talking to me when it’s about your weapons and tech.”

“You wound me”, he dramatically claps his hand to his chest, miming hurt. “You don’t believe that I care about my oldest friend?”

“Nope.”

“Rude”, he sing-songs. “C’mon.”

“The only reason we’re even lunching is because you wanted more upgrades - plus, now you want a shield against your fan-girls, who, by the way, are going to mob me in the bathroom and make me recount for the thousandth time, why and how I know you, the - I quote - cutest guy in the Japanese Defense Force, though they really should get their eyesight checked out in my opinion -”

“Oohhhh - people think I’m good-looking?” He runs his fingers through his hair like he’s in some 80’s shampoo commercial, throwing an exaggerated wink over his shoulder to the nearest fangirl. You hear a thump on the floor. You hope she didn’t hit her head too hard (but perhaps it might make her sole brain cell work a little better if she did).

You tap his knuckles with the back of your chopsticks. “Get that ego on a leash.”

His grin is cheeky. “I can’t help it if people think I’m good-looking.” Your heavy sigh makes him pout. “You don’t think I’m good looking?”

The lunch bell comes to your rescue.

“I have to get back to work”, you tell him, all too ready to make your escape.

“So do I”, he gobbles down the rest of his lunch. “Seeya around.”

“Stay safe”, you add. “Don’t let a Kaiju eat you up.”

“Eat me up?!” he squawks with mock outrage. “Don’t you know I eat Kaijus for breakfast?”

As if you don’t. In Tokyo, the third division is exceedingly popular. Captain Mina Ashiro of course, takes up most of the attention with her long, dark hair and prowess as the nation’s foremost sniper, but once in a while, the newspapers and magazines run features of Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro, and you dutifully keep cuttings in a scrapbook that you hide under your bed.

In every interview, he talks about how it’s patently untrue that there’s no space in the Japan Defense Force for those who prefer to wield a blade rather than a modern gun. “Captain Ashiro believes in me”, he says, so seriously that it’s hard to recognise your usual jovial friend. “For that, I’ll be thankful for every day.”

He said the same thing to you the day of his promotion.

“She believes in me when no one else did”, he tells you in disbelief.

That’s a lie, you want to shout. You reminded him that there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that he’d fail the entrance exam into the Japan Defense Force, and he’d indeed pass with flying colours. You calculated his unleashed combat potential from your lab in Izumo Tech, saw him exceed and excel so much so that an exception was made for him to carry katanas which you spent sleepless nights crafting for him. He won his first promotion as platoon leader nary a year in after a stunning victory decapitating yonju across Tokyo, and your congratulatory text to him was ‘See, I knew you’d do it.’

So no, Mina Ashiro was not the first person who believed in Hoshina Soshiro. You are.

Unless, in his eyes, you don’t count.

<okaa-san>

<Yes, I’ll be glad to meet your friend’s son>

< No promises on anything more>

The date your parents arranged for you is a man with a pleasing smile who has as much romantic interest in you as you in him - which is to say, very little at all. “I’m too busy with my job, but my mother insisted”, he confesses.

You like him all the better for his honesty. “So did mine”, you respond with a wry chuckle.

Yamamoto-san is good company, nonetheless, even if his only interest in life other than his demanding job as a corporate slave is tending to his houseplants, so since you both share an interest in getting your overbearing mothers off your backs, you agree to have lunch once a month just so you can say to your parents without lying that you’re seeing someone.

A part of you that you tuck deep into your chest hopes that word gets around to Soshiro, who’ll come beat your front door down, demanding that you, instead, turn your eyes to him (as if you’ve ever looked elsewhere for as long as you’ve known him). And when Hoshina Sochiro, Captain of the Sixth Division, pops into your office for his own tweaks to his tech and rounds upon you with a wicked twinkle in his eye, you’re sure that whatever you share will be conveyed as salaciously as possible to his younger brother.

“Soooo”, he drags each word out obnoxiously. “Your older brother mentioned that you’re seeing someone now who isn’t my younger brother.”

You smile blandly. “Soshiro-kun and I have always been just friends.”

“Just friends my arse”, he retorts. “You’ve had a planet sized crush on him since you were seven. It just can’t be helped that my brother’s got a katana up his arse.”

You try your best not to wince. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain Hoshina?” you gesture at the door. “As you can see, the mountain of work that’s been piling up ever since you stopped by my office needs to be done, and I really don’t have time to sit around and gossip like old women.”

“So grumpy”, he hops off your desk. “So, should I tell him that he’s missed the boat?”

“Tell him whatever you want.” You begin to type furiously on your laptop. “As if he’ll care.”

Five minutes later.

// u have a bf?! //

// and i had to find out fr Sochiro?! //

// AND u said there’s nothing to catch up on? //

You lock your phone in the drawer beneath your desk.

// are u ignoring me???? //

“You ignored my texts!”

This is a first. Hoshina Soshiro, cranky even when a stack of golden brown pancakes soaked in maple syrup wobbles enticingly in front of him. “I was busy at work”, you say. A flimsy excuse, one that fails to placate him as he continues to pout, childlike at you.

“So?” he demands, slicing right through the pancakes with his butter knife. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

His eyes narrow as he waves his knife accusingly at you. “You decided to tell Sochiro that you got a boyfriend before me?”

You take a sip of coffee to steady your nerves. “You know I don’t talk to your brother unless he decides to invade my lab. But I guess he and my brother still text from time to time.”

“Hrm.” he puffs out his cheeks, blows out a breath heavy enough to flutter his bangs. You restrain the urge to reach over and straighten his hair. “Fine.”

“I’m just seeing a guy that my parents set me up with.” You rehearsed exactly what you wanted to say, but your insides churn, the coffee you drank not doing you any favours. “I guess they’re just worried that no one will ever want me as I grow old and unmarriageable.”

His chuckle is blithe, uncaring. “Parents are all the same, aren’t they? Just last week, my mother called me to ask if I’m interested in being set up on a date with someone - as if I’d ever be interested, I barely have time to sleep, let alone date, and besides, she probably just called because my older brother’s a master at dodging such calls -”

You let him ramble on as you gather the remnants of your courage deep within your guts for a final advance.

“Soshiro.”

“Hm?” he looks up, mid-chew. “Sup.”

“If I really did get a boyfriend, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“Why would I mind?” He laughs, reaching over to prod at your cheek. “I mean, I guess as long as you don’t stop making me awesome katanas, and as long as he doesn’t mind that I text you my brilliant ideas on improvements -”

Unknowingly, he cuts right through your heart. But in fairness to him, you offered your heart on a silver fucking platter, even handed him the blade to stab it with.

“I was just worried you’d be unhappy”, you mumble, blinking back tears furiously.

Thankfully, he’s too focused on clearing his plate. “I thought you were going to ask me something serious”, he laughs. “What a silly question.”

“Yeah”, you manage to croak. “What a silly question.”

He goes on to fill the rest of the afternoon with chatter about his new recruits. You sit numbly and listen to his tales of a Shinomiya slip of a girl who blows all recorded numbers for a recruit out of the window, an old man who confounds his techs by registering a big fat zilch on their combat scales, but he entertains his candidacy because he’s a great source of entertainment.

“You okay there?” he frowns, stopping mid-story. “You kinda look down.”

“Indigestion”, you lie through gritted teeth. “Never you mind.”

“You shouldn’t take milk in your coffee if you’re lactose intolerant, silly”, he teases, confiscating your iced latte.

“I’m just an idiot”, you try your best to smile. Fortunately, he accepts a pained grimace.

Your mother was both right and wrong. You know that Soshiro cares for you as a friend, because he could never be callous enough to reduce you to your usefulness to him, but it’s true that he has no space in his heart for you.

A year or two ago, you piled yourself in a car with both Hoshina brothers to brave the Obon traffic to get back to Osaka for the holidays. You hadn’t been able to afford the jacked up prices for the shinkansen, and Soshiro only found out yesterday that Captain Ashiro took pity on him for missing consecutive New Year holidays that she gave him Obon off as a consolation price, so their parents nagged Sochiro into ferrying you both home.

“Shouldn’t you have your own car?” Sochiro groused.

“Why would I need a car if I’m on base 24/7”, Soshiro replied. “Why do you need a car? Unless the sixth division is slacking off -”

The car screeched to a halt. Sochiro kicked open the door, yanked Soshiro by his collar and shoved him into the driver’s seat. “To keep your smart mouth occupied, you can drive us the rest of the way to Osaka.”

“Aren��t you scared I’ll crash?”

“If you do, I’ll skin you alive.”

Your forehead nearly split open from all the bickering. “Guys, I can drive -”

“No!” Both brothers yelled at you in unison. It’s the first time they’ve probably agreed on anything in their life.

The bickering finally ended when Sochiro fell asleep in the back, head pillowed against the window glass on one side in a way that he’s bound to wake up with a neckache. Still, you’re forced in close proximity to Soshiro, the puffs of warm air from the overworking air-conditioner blending with the scent of steel and citrus, from the shampoo he probably uses, you mused half dizzy, head heavy -

“If you puke in the car, Sochiro’ll make you lick it up.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Talk to me so I don’t focus on your terrible driving.”

By the time Soshiro’s done with his recounting of the last four fights he’s been involved in, the massive disappointment of this year’s recruitment exercise and his admiration for Captain Mina Ashiro (which made you want to scream, kick your foot through the windshield, perhaps), the afternoon sun is low to the ground, streetlights along the expressway flickering on.

You couldn’t help but ask. “Do you ever think about anything other than your job?”

“Nah.” he chuckled. “I don’t have time for anything else. I gotta spend time to train y’know, otherwise I’ll really die on the job.”

“Soshiro!”

“That’s why I got good life insurance”, he deadpanned.

“I guess that was a silly question”, you slump back in your seat.

“It really is”, he teased. “So, what else d’you wanna hear about my all consuming job?”

The memory stings your eyes.

You make up an excuse to return to your apartment without haste, waiting until he disappears around the corner before you give in to the tears that you’ve been keeping at bay all afternoon. Strangers on the train ride home give you a wide berth, because they certainly don’t want to catch whatever malady you’re clearly suffering from with your swollen eyes and hiccuped sniffles. You stumble into your shoebox apartment, kick your shoes off at the genkan.

Tonight you’ll give yourself the grace to mourn the death of a dream.

You crack open the beers he previously brought, one after another. Drunk, you sit on the balcony, the half-moon reminding you too much of a certain vice captain. You let your mother’s words flood your mind. You are meant to offer him blades, not a bride. In another lifetime, in every lifetime, perhaps, the noble born son of a samurai clan would never open his heart to the lowly daughter of a swordsmith. He would be raised to always put duty before love.

You don’t know why you hoped for anything different.

So when you roll off your sofa in the morning, you glare at yourself in the toilet mirror, eyes rimmed red, a hangover in full effect.

“You are an idiot.” you slap your cheeks so hard it turns pink.

You will not allow this to continue. Hoshina Soshiro is not yours, has never been yours, and will never be yours. You are pathetic for hoping otherwise, stupid for living in hopes that he’ll look at you some day, an utter idiot for letting every choice you’ve ever made in your life be guided by your infatuation with a boy who doesn’t have space in his heart for you.

You could’ve been like your older brother, been content with sticking to the family business of sword making instead spending every spare minute on your engineering studies so you’re well positioned to be snapped up by Izumo Tech as a weapons specialist. You had the leeway to be based in Osaka near your family, but accepted a position in Tokyo just to be closer to where Soshiro’s based. You could’ve had a social life, perhaps even friends outside of work, if you’ve not dedicated your life to your job, working after hours tirelessly, just so you secure promotion after promotion, cementing yourself as Izumo Tech (and by extension, the Defense Force) go-to for anything blade related, just so you fulfil the promise you made to Soshiro all those years ago.

You cannot live the rest of your life this way.

a/n: so...i know i've only ever written for the hq boys but the way hoshina soshiro grabbed my throat in a chokehold in that gym training scene just forced my gremlin brain to start typing and get to work on this story for him.

hope you guys like it <3

#soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro x oc #kaiju 8 #hoshina x reader

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romanarose · 13 days

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Logan would be absolutely feral on your period.

He's not scared of blood, that's for sure. Hes not gonna be put off by any of the funky stuff your body does. But I think he's gonna want to be just... fucking covered in you.

It's gonna start with fingering. Logan just wants to ease your pain, not get off but he's heard, probably from Remy or somthing, that orgasms can help ease cramps so he lays you down on the bed, heating bad on your back AND stomach and lays next to you, fingering you carefully since you're sensitive.

When you have a nice and easy orgasm, smile, and proceed to fall right asleep he decides this is how he's going to take care of you from now on.

And then he licks his fingers... and it's all over from there

Now don't get me wrong if you're in pain or feel just super gross and bloated or just wanna sit on the toilet and shit and free bleed (my favorite activity on day one lolololol) he's gonna let you, and if you just want his fingers to get you off and help relax Logan is gonna take care of you... but if you're down? He is ravinous.

Your favorite is gonna be when he eats you out when you're bleeding. Having been around men, boyfriends, your dad, brothers, who make you feel like you're supossed to be ashamed or that you are gross on your period, but Logan is far from deterred. Hairy arms locked around shaking thighs, there's nothing in the world hotter to you than when he looks up from diving into your cunt with that huge smile on is face, blood splattered all over him... fuck he looks good like that.

Logan loves your blood on him too.

Sometimes, before he pounds into your puffy aching hole, he just kneels there infront of you, picking up your hips. Logan just slides you up and down his torso, your bleeding pussy just painting all over his body. He wants to be covered in you.

Dark!Joel period sex

Santiago Garcia period sex

Marc Spector Period sex

#logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #period sex #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagines #hugh jackman

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wttcsms · 2 years

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secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 2k synopsis as a last resort, ghost finds himself letting soap stay with him in your shared home. soap is understandably confused as to why there’s a pregnant young woman already occupying this supposed safehouse. content contains completely sfw, fluff, domestic fluff, soft!ghost, ghost is absolutely whipped for you & is not ashamed of it, pregnancy, pregnant!reader, marital bliss, protective!ghost, soap & ghost bromance notes takes place in the same timeline/au as this fic!

“We’re fucked if we can’t find shelter anywhere,” MacTavish, ever the optimist, readjusts the rucksack on his back before looking at the other operative with him.

He’s not surprised to find his partner’s expression entirely unreadable due to the mask obscuring the entirety of his face, save for a pair of eerily perceptive eyes.

“We can try to contact Price, see if he knows about any safehouses nearb—“

“Won’t be necessary.” Ghost cuts him off, sounding a bit irritated. “I know a place nearby.”

“How do you seem to always know where every single fuckin’ safehouse is?” Soap finds himself grumbling, but noticing that Ghost is already moving ahead, he shouts out a quick hey! and starts jogging to keep up with the man, afraid to be left behind (but secretly knowing that at this point, Ghost would never, no matter how many times he threatens to do so).

After trekking uphill for several miles and then proceeding to venture further into a heavily wooded area, secluded by tall trees and located near a large lake stands an almost unassuming cabin. The curtains to the house are open, but despite him moving closer, it turns out the glass had been tinted to the point where Soap’s unable to peek inside. He can only assume that whoever stays inside would be able to observe what’s happening unbeknownst to the people outside.

“You sure this place is safe?” Soap asks, glancing around. Sure, it’s isolated, and he trusts Ghost’s judgment, but fuck. It kind of sucks not being in the know for things as simple as safehouse locations.

“I sure would hope so.” Ghost grumbles, pulling out a key to stick into the front door’s lock. “It’s my house, after all.”

It’s silly to assume that Ghost doesn’t have a home. As a matter of fact, Soap has (many times) joked about the fact that Ghost probably lives up to his call name and takes refuge in a mausoleum in between missions. Still, Soap finds it a bit interesting to be inside the “Riley Residence” as he called it.

(Ghost just stared at him with those eyes that reflected nothing but exasperation before mumbling that he was going upstairs.)

There’s a large fireplace in the living room, and throw pillows that look soft to the touch resting on the couches. The whole entire cabin smells of something sweet, like cinnamon and sugar. Maybe looks can be deceiving; Soap didn’t take Ghost as the type of guy to burn candles in his cabin.

Then again… Ghost isn’t dumb enough to leave candles burning in his home especially if he knows that he’ll be gone for an extended period of time. How long has it been since Ghost went upstairs? He didn’t hear anything unusual, but Soap’s suddenly on high alert. Could there be someone else present? How safe is this place, really?

With one hand gripping his knife, Soap enters further into the cabin. He’s never seen a safehouse so decorated; the agents must have had too much free time on their hands when assembling this one. They even went through the trouble of adding faux personal touches to the place, like current magazines stacked on counters and fuzzy slippers left in the hallway.

(He glances at the pair of house shoes, thinking they’re Ghost’s but realizing that they’re much too small to belong to the bloody giant.)

As Soap nears what he assumes to be the kitchen, he catches sight of movement happening within his peripheral, and he’s quick to whip around to confront the intruder.

He’s met with the terrified screams of a woman, and before he can truly process what’s happening, he hears the unmistakable, thunderous footsteps of Ghost. His fellow operative’s got a gun in his hand and a worried look in his eyes as he examines the scene in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

It’s not Soap that he’s asking; instead, Ghost is immediately by your side, tucking away his gun so he can wrap his arm around you.

Your chest is still visibly rising and falling with every breath you take as you try to recover from the shock of witnessing a man with a mohawk waving a knife around in your own home. You stare at Soap, giving him a weak smile as you reassure Ghost.

“Yes, honey, everything’s fine. I was just caught off guard. I didn’t know I should have been expecting a guest.” You’ve seemed to recover quickly, and this time you offer him a real smile as you introduce yourself.

Your last name is Riley.

And while Soap prides himself on being plenty observant, he still can’t quite piece together the insanely easy puzzle in front of him. Ghost refuses to leave your side. You called the scary masked man honey. You’ve got a thin gold band adorning your left hand’s ring finger, and there’s an unmistakable baby bump protruding from the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It’s not that Soap isn’t able to realize what’s in front of him.

It’s the fact that Soap can’t believe that someone like Ghost could ever possibly have something so… normal.

A nice, cozy little home. A cute, pregnant wife. No wonder he had been so reluctant in taking the two of them here to spend the night! He’s been trying to keep you a secret this whole time.

That bloody bastard.

Ghost isn’t nearly as forgiving as you, and he’s still glaring at Soap.

“Fucking hell, Soap. I let you in my house, and the first thing you decide to do is terrify my wife. What the fuck?”

“Simon!” You gasp out, tugging at your husband’s arm. “It’s not his fault. I didn’t hear the two of you come in. He didn’t know about me because you didn’t even tell him I existed!”

“Why would he need to know? Nosy bastard’s already always in my business.” Ghost grumbles, and you slap his arm.

“I am so sorry, Soap.” You apologize on behalf of your husband (who doesn’t look the least bit sorry whatsoever). “Let me get the guest bedroom set up for you—”

“—I already did.” Ghost says, and his gaze seems to soften when his eyes land on yours and then moves downwards to focus on the baby bump. “You don’t need to be straining yourself.”

For the next few days, they lay low in an attempt to tire out their enemies or at least get them off their backs. These few days have been nothing but a series of revelations for Soap.

For example, who would have thought that Ghost has a lovely little wife at home who he absolutely worships? He’s caught the man massaging your feet, forcing you to let him wash the dishes, and Soap doesn’t even want to know the reason why the two of you so long in the shower. (Ghost would probably kill him if he ever did try to find out.)

Every single morning, the two of you cook breakfast together. He kisses you (forehead, cheeks, lips — just depends on what’s the most accessible at the moment) every time he walks by you. You’ll say, honey, can you bring me a glass of water? but he’s already making his way towards you, glass in hand, because he’s so attuned to you.

Every glimpse of Ghost’s secret domestic life feels too intimate for Soap to watch; he almost feels as if he’s intruding on a private moment, even when the two of you are doing something as simple as being near each other.

(Do you know that every time you move just the slightest bit, Ghost mirrors the action, adjusting his body accordingly so that it’s always shielding yours?)

“You look like you’ve been dying for the chance to ask me a couple of questions,” you set down a mug of hot tea in front of Soap before sliding into the seat across from him. Ghost is out back chopping firewood, and while you usually enjoy watching the way his arms flex and his muscular back just absolutely tighten up every time he hacks up the wood, you know that Soap will never get a chance to talk to you in private.

“Was I that obvious?” He grins, feeling more relaxed whenever you laugh. You’re an awfully nice person; too nice to survive in their world, and probably too nice for the city, too. No wonder Ghost keeps you tucked away in this cabin.

“I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have any questions about our relationship.”

“I guess that’s true, huh? So, uh, how’d you two meet?” Soap can’t exactly picture a teenage Ghost with a high school crush.

“He saved my life.” There’s a healthy glow to your skin; it might stem from the pregnancy, but you simply seem to brighten up even more when you talk about your husband. “You know, you were there too!”

“I was?” He takes a closer look at you, but he can’t recognize you in any of his memories. You’re certainly beautiful, and he’s sure that if he really did meet you, he would at least remember you by now.

“Don’t worry, I think Simon will prefer it if you didn’t know me at all, anyway.” Your fingers wrap around your own mug, warming up your cold hands. “Don’t let him fool you, though. He’s such a big softie.”

Soap has watched your “big softie” stab men to death quicker than he can blink his eyes. If it was a rescue mission where the two of you met, he’s almost certain that you must have seen his less-than-sweet side as well.

“You think he’d kill me if I started tellin’ everyone what a big softie he is?”

“He’d let you get away with it. You’re one of his friends, after all.”

“Wait, what?”

“C’mon, Soap. You and I both know Simon pretty well. He’s not above sleeping in the woods. He wouldn’t have brought someone here he didn’t trust. And you might not have known I existed, but we talk about you sometimes.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“It’s Simon.” You say, simply shrugging. “I’m sure he saves the worst for when the two of you are face to face.”

“Has he ever taken the mask off with you?”

You beckon Soap to lean forward just like you, and with your elbows on the table and both of you with your heads low, you whisper conspiratorially, “I take it off for him.”

The two of you are still laughing when Ghost walks in.

You pack both of them lunches before sending them back on their way, waving farewell from the front door, one hand resting on your stomach. You and Simon already had a private sendoff; away from the prying eyes of your visitor, Simon kneels down to give a gentle kiss to your belly, staring in wonder as he feels the slightest kick in return.

“Be a good boy for mommy,” is what he whispers before returning back to his full height. It’s hard to hug you with all his tactical gear getting in the way, but he’s stubborn.

Walking out the door and leaving you and his child behind is always hard. You tell Soap to come back any time (Simon’s stare told him that that invitation would not be valid under his watch).

Soap promises he will, and Ghost just has to respect that because he’s already been kind enough to turn a blind eye to the obvious longing in Ghost’s eyes as he leaves you.

“So, Lt., tell me. I must be your favorite, eh?”

“Favorite what? Pain in the fucking ass?” Ghost retorts. The two of them have a long walk ahead of them.

“Am I the first on the force to meet your girl?”

Ghost’s silence is confirmation enough.

“I knew it! I am your favorite on the force.”

“Shut up.”

(Ghost doesn’t necessarily dispute the claim, though.)

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #fluff #one shot #drabble #modern warfare 2

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