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shotmrmiller · 7 months

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I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar.

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink.

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?”

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!”

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison.

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up.

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice.

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!”

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.”

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out,

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,” grind—and you whimper in his ear, “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked.

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed.

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand, goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.”

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him. With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank.

“You have a condom?”

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it.

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.”

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise.

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.”

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock.

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back, stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length.

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it.

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.”

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x you #ghost cod #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #call of duty smut

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leonsdolly · 28 days

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Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor.

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion.

The door swings open, and your body dissolves.

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully.

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier.

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit.

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness.

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy oneshot #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

Text

How’d they react to finding you sleeping anywhere but the bed…

Dick: sharing the dog bed with Hayley (fail):

At first he thought something was wrong when he didn’t hear you or Hayley greet him home and soon began to search the spy for you both.

So the moment he finds you fast asleep on Hayley’s dog bed with Hayley tucked closely into your chest, head resting underneath your chin. His heart immeditly melted and his phone was out and taking photos nearly every 0.5 seconds, only until he was forced to stop due to how much storage they took up but he didn’t regret it.

Not one bit. He even has one printed out that he kept on him to look at whenever he felt as though he needed to be reminded of how he had waiting back home for him.

You both were effortlessly cute to Dick, he couldn’t help it but feel a little left out as he then tries to join you in the dog bed, only to almost ends up capsizing the three of you and waking both you and Hayley, who began licking his face as her tail smacks you in the arm repeatedly.

‘What were you trying to do?’ You asked Dick, sitting up.

Dick pouted. ‘Join in the fun.’

‘We were sleeping in a dog bed, how’s that fun.’ You said, not bothering to add the fact that you had accidentally fell asleep on Hayley’s dog bed because you were waiting up for him but failed.

‘Fun to me is wherever you and Hayley are.’ Dick answered truthfully.

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘You’re such a dork, you know that right.’ You told him.

‘Yes. And?’ He says cheekily, more than happy to be home with his little family.

Bruce: in the Batmobile:

Alfred told him where you were and that you best be moved to a more comfortable place then the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

How you got in there was a mystery to both men but what was more impressive was how you could possibly sleep against those hard rich leather seats in the first place.

Bruce couldn’t blow but let out a little chuckle when he opened the side door, just to see you with your face half pressed against the seats before jolting yourself awake.

‘Wha- I didn’t do nothing officer it was the dog.’ You said groggily as you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes as they tried to bring reality into focus.

‘Have a good nap did we?’ Bruce asks, finding some amusement in your half asleep nonsense.

‘Why, who’s asking?’ You replied.

‘Your consciousness.’ Bruce joked sarcastically. ‘Come on let’s get you to bed before you develop a-‘

‘Ow my neck.’ You groaned as you held a hand to your neck the moment you tried to move it.

‘-Crooked neck.’ Bruce sighs as he offers you a hand. ‘Come on, let’s go find Alfred so that we can alleviate you of this pain.’ You pouted as you grabbed onto his hand and letting him pull you out of the Batmobile. ‘Alfred is going to scold me isn’t he?’ You asked. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Bruce answered as he helps guide you out of the Batcave.

Alfred’s scoldings were nothing to scoff at, and Bruce would know as he’s been on the receiving end of a few before in the past. After all getting scolded by Alfred was enough to set a stubborn man straight.

‘Damn.’ You muttered.

Damian: in the barn, on top of Goliath:

He didn’t have to look far, he knew you’d be in the barn but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be fast asleep on top of his demonic dragon bat, whom had draped a protective wing over you as though it were swaddling you in an extremely warm blanket.

He had told you about the story of how he met Goliath and took him home on more then one occasion, as it was secretly his favourite story because it helped him with his own internal struggles on who he should be, and also how his past doesn’t define him, but what he chooses to do in the future does.

So seeing you cuddled up to Goliath without an ounce of care made him smile a little to himself at the prospect of you accepting him for who he was truly, rather than believe what other people viewed him as. You stood out of the crowd rather than follow it and Damian couldn’t be more grateful for you sticking by him, even through the extremely tough times where even he thought he went too far with his outbursts towards you.

‘Tt. Idiot.’ He says affectionately as he walks further into the barn, stopping along the way to pet BatCow and Jerry the Turkey. ‘Aren’t they?’ He asks both animals who only blinked at him as they mindlessly chewed on their food. Damian hums. ‘You’re right, they may be an idiot but they’re still my idiot at the end of the day.’

Damian ends up falling asleep against BatCow’s side as Jerry the Turkey made himself comfortable on his lap.

Jason: kitchen counter:

Him and Roy have a bet on where Jason would find you asleep next.

It had happened way too often for them that they’d hates themselves forever for not making a game out of it at any point in their lives.

This time Roy betted that you’d fall asleep on the kitchen counter, whereas Jason believes you’ll fall asleep against the window sill.

So when Jason got back home late one night after patrol, he immeditly went to look for you at the window sill. Nothing. ‘Damn it Roy.’ He cursed under his breath as he then walked into the kitchen, praying that he wouldn’t have to tell his friend that he won the bet for the eighth consecutive time.

Only for you to be fast asleep on the fucking kitchen counter, just as Roy predicted you would. Jason felt as though his friend was cheating somehow because it didn’t make sense for him to have correctly predicted where you’d be found sleeping as often as he did. Unfortunately for Jason, he couldn’t back up his claim as to why he thought Roy cheated, for there wasn’t any substantial evidence to prove that Roy was cheating.

And so with a heavy heart, Jason walked over and pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling out his phone to text Roy that he has won…again, and pocketing his phone as he carried you off to your shared room. ‘I love you chipmunk but you’ve got to start sleeping in places where I’ll surefire win the bet against Roy next time okay?’ He says against your head, kissing it.

‘Okay. I’ll try.’ You murmured.

‘That’s my baby.’ Jason said as he tucked you into bed before following suit.

The next day, Roy was smirking like a Cheshire Cat as he talked about his eighth consecutive victory, whereas Jason looked about ready to strangle the next person who looked at him funny.

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charliemwrites · 6 months

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Woo woo woo snarf

Content: Privacy Invasion, Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior, Non-Con Touching, Dirty Talk

Things have been… wrong around the house. It’s been a slow escalation, a proverbial boiling of the frog. Glasses in the dish washer when you thought you left them in the sink. Blankets you left in a heap neatly folded. Food missing from the fridge and misplaced laundry.

Things you could write off as forgetfulness, as thoughtless habits borne of living alone for so long.

That is… until the t-shirt. It’s very clearly a man’s. Just… a white undershirt. But it’s not your size and smells unfamiliar even after a wash with your own clothes - like cologne or aftershave. Masculine.

Until the boot prints in the snow outside your house, still just visible even after Johnny unknowingly bounds through it.

Your mind scrambles to excuse it.

The t-shirt could be your ex’s. You did just pull out the winter gear; it could be left over from last year, something you didn’t manage to weed out. (Even if it smells nothing like your ex. Smells…. better.)

And you’re not far from some pretty popular hiking trails. Hikers sometimes pass through your yard. (Thought they never come that close to the house…. especially not since you got Johnny)

Johnny’s the only reason you haven’t gone full paranoid. He’s so protective, you can’t imagine anyone getting close to, never mind in, the house without him making a huge, bloody fuss.

Probably just cabin fever, you tell yourself. You need to go out more. Reach out to the friends you don’t see enough.

Johnny seems restless the first time you start dressing for a night out. You soothe him with a big hug.

“I’m just going to see Sarah and Mel. You like them, baby.” His ears perk, head tilting at the familiar names. You smile and press a kiss to the very top of his nose. “Next time I’ll have them come see you.”

When you come home, he’s torn up your favorite “date night” dress. You groan and scold him, but still allow him to plaster himself to your side when you climb into bed.

The next time you go out with them, you see a semi-familiar face in the little low-key bar. Soap. Can’t believe you remember his name months later, but then again he’s difficult to forget. Seared into your mind like a warning and a temptation. End up staring at him a little too hard, shocked to see him in the bar you and your friends have picked.

When he catches you looking, he grins like you’re an old friend, tips his head and his beer with a wink. Your friends notice, encourage you to say hi. But you wave them off, blushing, and they understand your introversion enough not to push.

He still manages to corner you when you go to the restroom. (Alone, for fucks sake. You should know better). All you see is a shadow in the hall, backlit by the bar. When you shift closer to the wall to let them pass, they turn and nearly pin you.

“Fancy seein’ you again,” a deep Scottish brogue rumbles. Too close to your ear; the bar music isn’t nearly loud enough to excuse it. “Out with your sister again?”

It takes you a second to recover, a bit shocked that he really does remember you. And far, far too aware of how close he’s standing, the heat of his body seeping into you.

“A couple friends, actually.”

“Still no boyfriend, eh? That pup o’ yours still a maneater like his owner?”

Your mouth drops open, offended and befuddled in equal measures.

“Wha— well, yes, he is. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He chuckles, eyes twinkling in the shadows. Amused and just a touch condescending. Your face floods with heat as he braces his arm on the wall above your head. He smells good, too good. Familiar?

“Prefer pussy m’self,” he says, “but most animals love me. Bet I could win you both over.”

You make an audible “agh!” noise, embarrassed by the crassness.

“Who says that?!” you protest.

He keeps talking, like you’ve said nothing at all.

“Promise I’d get your kitty purrin’ nice and loud if I pet ‘er,” he says, voice low and rough. “Play with ‘er all sweet like. Might even give ‘er a little kiss…”

The alcohol and having your friends nearby makes you brave.

“Not on your life.”

Again, he chuckles, fingers of his other hand skimming your side.

“Never say never, hen.”

You bite back a telling gasp. God it’s been way too long if you’re getting keyed up by this creep barely touching you.

It’s only because he’s sinfully hot and your pussy is a shallow bitch, you tell yourself.

“My friends are missing me,” you say, trying to extricate yourself.

He hums, steps closer before you can wriggle away, nearly pancaking you to the wall.

“I’m missing you.”

“You don’t know me enough to miss me,” you snort and push against his chest. He’s thick. Firm with conditioned muscle, broader than you realized in the dim - nearly dark - hall by the bathroom. If he didn’t want to move, you couldn’t make him.

But he finally relents, sidling a step back.

“Give me a chance to? Here.”

You don’t know where he gets a pen from, and he moves far too fast for you to stop before he’s tugging your shirt aside. You don’t know where he got a marker from but you feel the rough drag of it across your collarbone, the sting of it in your nose.

“Call me sometime and I’ll make good on my offer.”

He caps the pen, drops a kiss on your cheek like it’s his right, and swagger off - presumably to the restroom.

You scurry back your table, careful to hide whatever he wrote on your skin. It feels like it burns for the rest of the night until you get home.

Johnny greets you at the door with a huge canine smile. Again, focusing on all the spots where soap touched you. Unlike his usual reaction to the scent of unfamiliar men lingering on you, Johnny’s tail wags. You huff.

“Don’t you dare prove him right,” you huff, sidestepping your overgrown teddy bear to go to the bathroom. Your tug your shirt aside and stare at the phone number scrawled across your skin. There’s even a cheeky little heart at the end.

Johnny’s followed you, per usual, and you meet his eyes seriously.

“I know I told you that you’re only allowed to bite my ex….. but I might make an exception for a little nip.”

Johnny tilts his head as you begin stripping down, grumbling under your breath.

“Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to know how attractive they are. It’s fucking criminal.”

You start up the shower, about to step in, only for Johnny to start whining and crying. So loud and raucous that you almost think he’s been injured somehow. But no, he just staring up at you mournfully, ears back and tail down.

“Big baby,” you mock-scold, “what’s the matter, huh? You need me to keep you company while you potty?”

Johnny just keeps whining and crying so you roll your eyes and climb in, ignoring how he goes up in pitch. You scrub at the phone number aggressively, but even then the permanent marker has soaked into your skin and left a stain.

“Mother fucker…” you can barely hear yourself over Johnny. You finish up and whip the curtain open, hands on your hips. It must startle him because he pauses to stare.

“It’s a lot, bud. A lot,” you scold. “Too much, even.”

He subsides with one last grumble and seems to sulk for the rest of the night. Won’t even let himself be bribed with a treat. When you climb into bed with him, he faces away from you (even though he’s still plastered to your side).

“So dramatic,” you sigh affectionately, burying your face in his coat. He smells like pine. “It’s okay, though, big guy. You’re still the only one for me.”

In the morning, you find Soap’s number scrawled on a sticky note. Huh, you must have been a little tipsier than you thought.

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Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #woof woof Johnny

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artemismoorea03 · 10 months

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DP x DC: Original Serial Adopter

When Bruce adopted Dick Grayson the Media was in a frenzy. The billionaire and playboy adopting an orphan after some kind of freak circus accident? Nobody expected it to last more than a month. The media called this action an "Act of Charity".

Then a few years later he adopted Jason Todd. Jason was much more scrappy and after a while some media started calling him the "Wayne Stray".

When he took in Tim after Jason's "accident" they called Tim a rebound. But instead of a relationship Tim was just being used to fill the void that Jason left. The media eventually called him "Jason Todd's replacement."

The media got much more suspicious when Bruce adopted Cassandra and crossed lines with their speculations that resulted in a lot of lawsuits. Though nobody in Wayne's circles believed the rumors for a second, so rumors were wiped out pretty quickly. The least offensive of these things called Bruce a "Bleeding Heart" when the media saw the scars Cassandra had.

Stephanie was never officially adopted - at least legally - but anybody who saw her with the family knew that Bruce had adopted her as a daughter. Like Cassandra she got some negative comments but they learned after the first time. "Another Wayne Joins The Manor".

When Damian came into the picture the media exploded. Comments along the lines of "The Bastard Child" which made Bruce's blood boil but kept quiet. Damian had only known violence and aggression growing up, and while his mother loved him she had exposed him to a life he didn't need to see. Bruce wasn't about to make everything worse by loosing it on the media for being jackasses.

When he fostered Duke the media exploded again. Showing the ugly side of human ignorance but Bruce and Duke were both able to ignore it (while Tim and Oracle found ways to rip every person apart who dared make a comment against them).

Bruce didn't care what they said, because at the end of the day he had children who he loved with all of his heart and was learning to do the best for. Sure, he made plenty of mistakes but he tried to learn from his mistakes.

Though the rumor about Bruce being a "Serial Adopter" was one that would be one that would never leave him.

But he had to learn it from somewhere.

A fact that was ignored until Alfred showed up back to the manor after a shopping trip with a scrawny child walking hesitantly behind him, carrying some of the groceries'. He was prime "adoption bait". Underweight, messy black hair, blue eyes that were just a bit too blue, and bruises that were in view despite the kids best attempt to cover them with his hoodie.

A large hand print bruise around his neck, scraped knuckles, and a bruise peeking out from under his hairline might as well have been ink in the pen that Bruce was going to use to sign that kids adoption papers and sign the receipt for the shovel he would buy to bury the bastards responsible.

After the groceries were put away Alfred properly introduced the kid. His name was Danny and after a series of unfortunate events while Alfred was shopping Danny had been forced to jump in and help him. Bruce thought that maybe Alfred had been in danger and never called them but when it became clear that luck just wasn't on his side and that he was never in danger for anything despite being late it made Bruce even more concerned about the teen that currently was eating his third apple as though he had never eaten anything in his life.

He stayed small, stayed silent, looking around the room anxiously. He clearly kept tabs on every window. Every door. Every exit but hardly paid any attention to the valuables. He was scared but not a thief.

Finally they have to ask about Danny's injuries. Was he safe at home? Did he have a place to stay? Why was he so thin? Did he need them to call somebody.

Danny was quiet for a long time.

"I don't have a home to go to. The bruises are fine, I'm just clumsy. I don't need a place to stay. Thanks for the food and the hospitality but... I don't feel like being kidnapped and tortured by another millionaire so if Alfred doesn't need anything else I should go."

Danny tried to get up and move, the pain obvious but before anybody could say anything else Alfred simply said.

"Sit."

Danny hesitated, then sighed and sat down again.

"You promised you would allow me to treat you before you left. I am a man of my word so as soon as you finish your apple I will bandage your wounds and you will be free to leave if you wish."

Classic Alfred trap.

One that worked flawlessly.

Fresh bandages, a full stomach, warm clean clothes and a cup of hot chocolate on the comfortable couch in the living room was all it took to lull the injured teen to sleep.

Alfred continued this trend for three more days managing to trick Danny into helping him with minor tasks around the manor, offering him another meal because he 'made too much and didn't want to waste it' and countless other things.

It wasn't until day four when Danny seemed to accept his fate and allowed them to help him. Which prompted Cass to point at Alfred.

"Original Serial Adopter."

Making the entire table laugh while Danny just looked increasingly confused.

#dp x dc prompt #my prompts #dc x dp prompt

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 7 months

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Simon’s heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Was this real? Was he dreaming?

He’d just gotten home, just a bit before he knew you’d be home yourself- when he found something on the table that had his entire world shift on its axis.

In his trembling hands, he held a picture of an ultrasound. He honestly didn’t think much of it at first, until he saw your name printed in bold white letters at the bottom of the photo. The photo which was just taken this morning.

Simon truly didn’t know what to think. So many emotions were swirling around in his head. Confusion, excitement, anxiousness.. he couldn’t firmly grasp any of them. Did he deserve to be a dad? Would he even be a good one?

He’d had such a shit childhood, his own father causing so much of Simon’s turmoil, that he truly never believed he could have a family of his own. Was this something that you truly wanted with him?

“Simon, baby I’m home.” You called, making your way into the house. Your voice brought Simon out of his thoughts, but his eyes remained glued to the photo in his hand.

“Y/N?” Simon asked, his voice came out barely above a whisper. He held the picture out to you, his hands still shaking as his eyes looked up at you.

Your stomach churned when your eyes landed on the ultrasound picture in Simon’s hands. You had planned to tell him, you truly did. You were trying to think of the best way to broach the subject, as having a child was not something that the two of you had ever discussed. “Simon, I can explain.”

“How long have you known?” Simon’s eyes bore into yours as he spoke, and you could see tears beginning to form in them.

“I just found out the other day. It was a routine visit at the doctors, I honestly had no idea. I was planning on telling you Si, I really was. I just… I didn’t know how.” Your bottom lip trembled as you forced the words out, your eyes drifting to your hands, not able to look your boyfriend in the eye. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Hate you?” Simon asked incredulously. He set the picture down gently on the table, before making his way to you. His hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him once more. “I could never, ever hate you. Not ever, do you understand me?”

You nodded, as tears began to pour from your eyes. “I’m scared, Simon. This isn’t something we’ve ever talked about. I didn’t know how you’d feel and I… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, and will never be a burden. I chose this life with you, and all that comes with it.” He said, his fingers wiping away the tears that fell down your cheeks. “We are in this together, kid. You and me. That was the deal the second I put that ring on your finger.”

“You want this? You want a kid with me?” You asked, your heart stilling slightly as you waited for his response.

Simon engulfed you in a tight hug, his chest heaving with silent sobs. “You have no fucking idea how much I want this. I never thought I’d ever have a family, but I am so goddamned grateful that you’ve given me one.”

He held you like that for some time, before getting down on both knees in front of you, his face at the same height as your belly.

“I promise you.” He started, his eyes leaving yours to look at your growing tummy. “Both of you. That I will try to be the father I never had. I want to give you the family, the life that you so deserve.”

Your heart melted at his words, hot tears streaming down your face as you cradled his cheek in your hand. “Simon, you already have. You’re going to be the best damn father there is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Simon laid in bed with his head laying softly on your belly. Your quiet deep breaths soothed his racing thoughts, drawing a smile to Simon’s lips.

His mind filled with thoughts of your future- your belly growing with HIS child, the little one learning their first word, chasing them around the house once they learned to walk, all the family trips he’d take you guys on- the ones he never got to go on as a kid….

He knew you’d make the best damned parent, and he swore to the stars above he’d be the dad he’d always wanted as a kid. He’d be a good man, a family man. He’d finally have the family he never knew he wanted.

Yeah…Simon Riley couldn’t fucking wait to be a father.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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dumbbitchgalore · 3 days

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Honeymoon with Old Man!Price 🌙

You look at him, smiling fondly. “John?” You mutter.

“Yeah, petal?” He responds back.

You sigh softly, losing your train of thought as you feel his fingers dance along your spine. Nuzzling into his chest as you inhale his cologne. Oud and leather, it smelled like home. Smelled like John.

You screw your eyes shut trying your best to block out the chaos surrounding you as you hear the birds chirping as Marrakesh’s sun begins to rise. John groans slightly as the sun hits his eyes. You chuckles softly at his reaction, kissing his forehead.

Holding your hand up to the sunlight flickering through the curtains, the diamond on your finger. Nuzzling into his chest, you exhale.

"Forgot what I was gonna say." You mumble as John chuckles at your pout.

He pulls you up on top of him causing you to straddle John's lap. You roll your eyes at his antics. John looks at you lovingly, as he pumps his soft cock a few times before tapping it against your abdomen. You huff in annoyance.

"Damn it, Birdie. I'm gonna die of old age before I get to enjoy my honeymoon with my spouse." He playfully chides you.

"First off all, you're not old. Second of all... nevermind." You roll your eyes and lean down to kiss his lips softly, pecking them with innocence and purity.

Pulling away, you move up to his abdomen as his flaccid cock is laid on it. You glide your wet pussy over his length, making sure to coat his dick in your sweet slick.

John groans softly, screwing his eyes shut as precum leaks out of his cock and onto his stomach. Chuckling softly, you take your time moving up and down his cock as the the friction along the dick as well as the veins making your clit quiver in bliss.

"John... look at me. Look away and I stop. Got it?" You whisper softly, planting your hands on his chest as you pick on the pace.

John nods, opening his eyes to look at you in awe. He places his hand on your hips to guide you along his abdomen.

"Yes, ma'am."

You smiles, "That's my good boy."

A strangled gasps leaves his throat as his head lulls best, trying to maintain his eye contact with you. His back arches as lust coarses through his veins.And your breathy moans don't help either. You hands leaving a searing print on his chest as you both feel your orgasms approaching.

Panting heavily, you pick up the pace and a gutteral moan later, John cums call over his stomach. Thick, hot and fucking delicious. Slowly coming to an end, you sit on his lap catching your breath as you look at John's fucked-out face.

You hum in satisfaction seeing him ruined underneath you. Leaning down against his stomach to like his cum up. It didn't matter to you that John's soft cock couldn't feel your cunt up with cum at the moment. What mattered was not wasting it.

"Just like ambrosia, baby."

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sugojosgf · 2 months

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nanami buys you coffee

fluff + pre (established relationship) + slight age gap

berri: based on these headcanons, i'll probably write each one individually if i have time 😊🩷

being an intern is ... hard. the pay is barely anything, the work load makes death look appealing and the managers ,,,, well, they hate you. at least they act like they do.

after a long morning of shadow work and running after your manager to print individual copies of meeting documents, you are sick. all you want to do is go home and pass out for the rest of the day.

you didn't have time for breakfast and with all the running around, not enough for even a pick-me-up drink. it's exhausting and you hate it,,, but you need this stupid internship.

after a quick sob session in the restroom, you come back to throw yourself on a spinning chair that you are convinced is going to be the root cause of your premature back pain.

you are busy muttering curses under your breath when you hear someone clearing their throat.

you turn your chair to see fucking nanami kento, a senior manager in the company and your work crush.

he is so cool, you've seen him diffuse the most complex situations in seconds and he's always so humble about it. never too proud despite his insane skill level.

"... everything good?" he asks, voice deep enough to make your body react on its own. you take a good thirty seconds to realise that he's talking to you.

eyes wide and lips parted, you answer.

"y-yes sir! of course, do you need me to print any documents?" you ask, palms sweating.

and he laughs.

he fucking laughs and it is the best thing you've ever heard. it's low and gritty but god he sounds so good laughing.

"sir? nanami is more than enough." he then looks around awkwardly before handing you something. you finally notice the coffee cup in his hand.

"huh?" "it's for you."

"oh." you giggle. you take a sip and it's perfect.

the temperature is not too hot, the coffee is not too sweet and it's the right ratio of whipped cream to milk. you don't know what he ordered but you do know that you can't go back to drinking normal coffee.

"uhm- thank you!!" you swallow, "this is perfect! but is there like an employee event today?" you still don't know why he got you the coffee.

"oh,," he chuckles, "no, i just wanted to see you smile."

#nanamin me 🧈#nanami kento x reader #nanami x you #jjk nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁☁︎#jjk fluff #nanami fluff

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 8 months

Text

TF141 Scenarios and Headcanons

(Them interacting with the mini and pink version of Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley) Inspired by my previous post

Credits to @puff0o0 for this wonderful art that I requested and all the other art that's used in this post, she delivered and slayed. I genuinely love your art style because the textures looks like crayons were used and it's just so cute, thanks so much Puff <3

Pairings:

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Justice for Soap? Poor guy has been a victim in this entire set of scenarios.

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

❥ Simon bringing mini Ghostie for her to interact with the Taskforce again. Safe to say Soap got hit at the back of his head for even trying to make fun of the pink carrier (that you, his loving wife bought for the baby), while the little one was fidgeting with the red bow that decorated the front of the strap carrier.

❥ Ghostie didn't earn the nickname till the second time Simon brought her with him bringing the mask along and she proudly wore it. They actually went through the effort of getting her a tailored camo print uniform with a little patch embroidered with the words "youngest recruit" and "Riley" embroidered on the back of the shirt.

❥ Mini Ghostie keeping herself busy with the crayons and papers provided by uncle Gaz, drawing herself, her dad and the other Taskforce members then proudly showing it off to them after they're done being busy. (It earned a spot on the base's fridge, Price bought a magnet for that purpose alone because it was held up by tape for the longest time)

❥ A little visual for you guys provided by my favorite and beloved mutual @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie and Gaz exchange drawings on a basis, more oftentimes it's funny faces that Soap makes. Soap saw them..

"I DINNAE LOOK LIKE THAT"

*Gaz raising a brow at him while Ghostie was giggling at Soap raising his voice*

❥ And yes, Gaz was responsible for the shrekified version of Soap that was on the fridge.

❥ Soap tried to draw something as an insult towards Gaz but it backfired and little Ghostie ended up loving it and taking it home to display it on the wall of her room:

❥ Gaz tends to be pursuaded by every little pout Ghostie gives him, probably the reason behind him being her favorite uncle. Ghostie made a drawing of Gaz once with an outlined heart around the picture, he now has it framed on his desk.

❥ Safe to say that Ghostie was amused by Soap getting hurt in any way possible, at first it started with her dad playfully punching the sergeant that made her giggle but then it slowly started to turn into her taking matters into her own hands and actually hitting uncle Soap herself. (Poor Soap)

❥ Little one constantly either slaps Soap or pulls on his mohawk. Yeah Ghost probably taught her that, she loves seeing her dad amused and giggles when she makes her dad chuckle. (Cue annoyed Soap noises)

❥ Uncle Gaz calls her "Boo" sometimes because he thought it was fitting and yes he took it from that one animated movie character, more likely sets his phone up and let's her use it to watch Disney movies because he's the only one who has Disney plus. (Frozen and Mulan were playing non-stop and now they all know the song "I'll make a man out of you" word for word)

❥ The idiots encouraged little Ghostie to chug a bottle full of milk as if she was chugging beer while cheering her on, Simon sipped on his whiskey not knowing he'd regret it later on, they all had to deal with a massive spit up because they made her drink too much and too quickly. (Soap had to wash that shirt 3 times before the smell of milk became more faint)

❥ Little Ghostie calls Price her grandpa and nobody's correcting her even if she genuinely thinks that Price is her dad's father. Price was definitely the one who had a uniform tailored for her but it was Gaz's idea.

❥ Believe it or not, Little Ghostie is loved by almost all of the recruits. Lieutenant Riley has a DAUGHTER?! He has a wife..? Yeah that was their first reaction. But ultimately they loved her because Little Ghostie was a sweet bundle of joy who loves giving flowers to female recruits and uncle Gaz.

❥ Despite all the bullying uncle Soap has been through, he still loves that kid to death and couldn't be more prouder when L.T. Riley and his wife chose him, Roach and Gaz to be godfathers.

❥ Speaking of uncle Roach, him and Ghostie get along really well. Even though there's not much of a verbal conversation going on, they still manage to cause chaos together. She likes to fidget with the makeshift antennas that come with the helmet of his tactical gear.

❥ Nobody can stand it when she's crying, she's not even loud, she's almost so quiet when she cries but gosh is it heart breaking. Especially for Gaz, Ghostie's teary puppy eyes looking up at him while her arms are in the air. "Uppies uncle, please" she hiccups.

❥ Gaz is the one always carrying her around, if everyone's being honest then I don't think she was ever down on her feet at some point unless she was playing around with the recruits.

❥ If Simon was being honest, he enjoyed the sound of Ghostie's feet thumping around base.

❥ Ghostie loves handfeeding her dad, she does it all the time. Technically she still has a difficult time using utensils so hands would do for now.

❥ Roach gave the little thing a sip of his coffee and she was practically bouncing off the walls. Yeah that wasn't a very bright idea.

❥ She was a late teether, Soap was the victim. Not only was she caught chewing on the strap of his tactical gear, Ghostie actually bit him with her baby teeth that were only halfway out when he tried to swat her away.

❥ Uncle Gaz and grandpa Price taking out the little one for ice cream so her need for sugar is satisfied and to cool her gums off.

❥ Ghostie's uncles taking her to the park/playground. (Gaz was the one recording)

❥ Soap got in trouble for teaching mini Ghostie how to curse, you weren't too happy about that because now your daughter is saying "bitch" endlessly in the wrong context.

A/n: I hope you guys liked it, I put a lot of effort into this and the last post. Please check out Puff's account if you don't know her yet, I promise she is the sweetest person and her CoD content is a big hit.

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 30 days

Note

could I get Dazai x Jessica rabbit male reader? Like reader is taller is feminine and intimidatingly sexy and Dazai endearingly is his “roger rabbit” in this situation, male reader is disinterested in me and woman alike to try to woo him and is polite but firm with he’s not there for you he’s there for someone else. The. Dazai comes strutting in and hangs on male reader’s should with love struck eyes and everyone is like “how the fuck did you end up with him-?” And male reader is like “He makes me laugh”

Dazai Osamu - Jessica Rabbit-Like Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

This is ADA Dazai and not PM Dazai since you didn't specify in your ask what time frame you wanted this in. This is my first time writing Dazai so I apologize if I didn't capture his character properly. I also wrote this headcannons in second person for a change, let me know if you like this more than the usual. I hope I did your ask some justice, Anon. —Benny🐰

Warnings -> Suggestive, Mentions of Suicide, Reader will have descriptions that correlate with the character 'Jessica Rabbit'

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🎙 When Dazai and [Name] first met, you can imagine what the first thing the bandaged man said to them was, of course, asking to commit double suicide with him. The tall and seductive stranger giggled and declined, thinking the bandaged man was simply making a morbid joke, but he planted a sweet kiss on Dazai's cheek and made his way to down the street and out of the ADA detective's line of sight. The way the taller man's hips swayed as he strutted away had the brunette staring after him with wide eyes, sparkling with interest.

🎙 The two met again and subsequently exchanged contact information as well as planned a date during one of the investigations he was a part of. Something about a murder of a guy that happened in the club that [Name] performed in and the perpetrator being an ability user. After the investigation wrapped up, Osamu made sure to rizz him up and once again coax them into a double suicide, to which they again chuckled at and denied. For the mentioned date, Osamu took them to the movies them out to eat at the Uzumaki Diner before walking them home and being sent off with a kiss.

🎙 Now the two are married; two years going strong. Dazai makes sure to show up to every single performance his husband has at whichever club it happens to be at; often times skipping out on his paper work in order to do so. Dazai does make sure to tell [Name] that he in no way needs to come and see him at the ADA just in case, for their safety. Occasionally though, the seductive club singer does pay the bandaged man a workplace visit; usually dropping him off lunch or just to spend time tigether after being apart for a while.

🎙 Most times [Name]'s visits end up with him sitting sideways on his husband's lap while listening to him talk about his day in an animated fashion. Trailing his index finger up and down Osamu's chest in a slow and sensual way; the natural seductive smile playing on his lips. [Name] smothering the brunette in tons of kisses; leaving prints of his painted lips all over his husband's face and staining the bandages wrapped around his neck. Feeding each other whatever Osamu decided to grab from the vending machine on the other side of the room.

🎙 Speaking of the ADA; those in the agency still can't wrap their heads around how the two got together in the first place. [Name] is a drop dead gorgeous sex symbol of a man who has a flourishing career as a club singer and Dazai is... well himself. Poor Atsushi nearly had a stroke trying to process the two being in a loving and stable relationship. How the bandaged man and his husband interact also seems to leave a few select people feeling painfully single and Dazai absolutely revels in their suffering. The man definitely plays up his interactions with [Name] just to get a rise out of them. When Kunikida asked the tall man just what he saw in his husband he answered that Dazai made him laugh.

🎙 Overall, the two have a very loving and stable relationship. Despite Osamu's want for death, [Name] makes him feel like life may be worth living just a little while longer than he thought. Every night that he spends in his husband's embrace is another night he feels safe, loved and protected from the haunting memories of his past actions and those he's lost. Although... most nights the two of them don't get to sleep until late into the night.~ All Osamu's doing I'm sure, the scoundrel.

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saiidahyunie · 1 month

Text

love foolish

minatozaki sana x f!reader

sum: doing sana’s laundry is a good deed while she’s out working, but you had better ideas for her when she gets home.

cw: smut ; degrading ; cursing ; praise

a/n: i wasn't there when we first saw sana in that baseball jersey years ago, but i'm glad as hell that i was for the second time she wore it again.

sana’s apartment greets you in a hollowed darkness once you insert the key past the knob that you picked up from the mailbox next to the door. intrusive or invading weren’t the right terms to describe your actions, but here you were strolling in sana’s shared space with you anyway.

besides, you preferred her spacious queen bed over the shitty mattress you morphed around back at your dorm. it also occurred that the notion of moving in with her wasn’t brought up to this point, but your clothes and toothbrush already made their home here, so might as well.

when your bags and shoes hit the hardwood floor, steering your way to the couch, you sent her a quick text to let her know that you were waiting for her to get out of work and her batting practice, to which she responds with a simple voice memo of her lovely voice followed by a string of hearts.

you could say that you’re spoiled for sana. she works at what she does on the campus and her job, but her sport side of softball. the scheduling was a challenge to work around, but you and her made it work. it’s a fair trade of cooking, making sure you and her are getting the right amount of love and care, and the biggest plus was that she communicates her feelings with no lie, all truth.

sana gives everything to her endeavors, so the least you can do to help support her is by keeping her home clean, make the delicious food that you know that makes her hum like a little kid, and deal with the laundry.

a quick glance over to her bean bag was a pile of clothes that had a half full basket sitting next to it. her coffee table had one of many hydroflasks, because she tends to forget one or the other if she’s in a rush. not to your surprise, you smile at the thought of her leaving her bright purple one before she left for work earlier today.

the sweet aroma of the apartment was filled with sana's soap and fabric softener, the mix of daisies and lavender filling your nose when you plop down onto the couch. it’s only by instinct - or muscle memory for that matter when you pick up the clothes one at a time to fold them. sana had a set system of organizing which clothes go to which: sweets and pants were the first, then shorts for around the house, the assortment of underwear (panties specifically because you know well that sana doesn’t like to wear bras), shirts, hoodies, the more fancier choices of dress shirts and dress alike, and lastly, her softball jerseys.

sana has a few jerseys for the collegiate team that she plays with, but she also has a few from soccer and basketball teams as well. once finished with folding, you took the different stacks into the bedroom, filing them neatly into the drawers of her dresser. when you got to the jerseys, one slips from your hand and drops to the floor.

dealing with the drawers by closing them, you pick up the unfolded one on the floor, staring at her name printed in big bolded letters. your eyes started to drift around the design of the stripes of red and black, gliding over to the full length mirror that was next to his door, looking at your reflection through the sunlight.

with the formulation of some thoughts, you rub your legs together while trapping your bottom lip with the upper row of your teeth.

this was an easy decision, one that you didn’t have to think twice about when you stripped yourself from your clothes, completely naked with your erect nipples bursting through the fabric’s appearance.

grabbing your phone from the dresser, you start by sitting on the far corner of her bed, snapping a few photos with the unbuttoned jersey covering your boobs. then, you sat down on the floor to take a couple more pictures, spreading your legs wide enough to expose your cunt and parting both sides of the jersey to show your boobs. you then turn around, putting your feet together as a cushion for your ass, snapping a few more clicks while the jersey wrapped around your small figure.

sana’s gonna have so much fun when she loses her shit over these.

—

while that was happening, sana was at her desk, leaning back on her chair once she submitted the last files to jihyo to help prepare for the school’s cultural festival showcase. she then peeks over to the space next to her seeing that nayeon and momo were playing a game of sticks in which momo loses out of frustration, rubbing her head with her hands while nayeon laughed.

days like these tend to go by fast, though sana can’t help but yawn after doing less than what she was working with a few days ago. not a single thing from today was productive enough to keep herself occupied. within the last hour, she’s watched her softball game highlights for probably the fourth time today, about to be the fifth if jihyo doesn’t get back to her soon.

a quick glance of the clock on her monitor only shows that she has a little bit over an hour and a half before she could go to get some batting in and then come home to you. had you been busy, sana would’ve tossed herself out the third floor window just to make today entertaining.

manifestation works in so many weird ways, and by the grace of timing, sana couldn’t keep the smile of your name coming up on her phone.

you: i’m at the apartment! i also did the laundry for you :)

sana: you’re the best beb <3 i was actually gonna take care of the laundry myself when i get back

you: i did a little bit more than that

sana: huh

you: (attachment: 12 images)

sana actually almost fell back when the photos popped up in her texts. her mouth was open at the sight of that first picture before she looked up to see if anyone had seen her act like this. you’re good with antics, almost on par with how sana acts from time to time, but you could never beat her in a competition like this.

on the other end, you smirk after noticing that sana had read the message, imagining how sana would be shaking her head to hide her panic. leaning back against bed and spreading your legs even further apart, you let your hand slide down to your folds, teasing your lips at the thought of sana losing her mind leaving you dripping.

sana tried her best to keep her mind straight, gripping her hand along her thigh to the point where her veins were popping out. she can’t stop imagining bending you over this desk in front of her, or riding her thigh in that damn jersey is filling up her brain.

she’s pissed, and now that she’s fueled by this, sana leans forward to put on her heels, standing up soon after to walk over to the room next door, “if jihyo asks me where i went, tell her i had to take five.” she tells momo and nayeon, both nodding in unison before getting back to their game of rock, paper, scissors.

stomping to the bathroom, sana gets into the nearest unoccupied stall, closing it and undoing her tie that’s under the vest, unbuttoning her dress shirt from the collar and then her pants. sana then reaches for her phone with the free hand, while the other was occupied in between her legs.

sana: you’re fucking crazy if you’re gonna send pics while i’m at work.

you: i already know that you’re saving them, aren’t you?

sana: baby, i’m the only one who gets to see you that way. nobody else.

you: uh oh

you: (attachment: 2 videos)

sana clicks on the video, seeing your fingers spreading your folds apart, glistening against the glow from the windows that beammed inside to give better lighting.

sana was seething, already having you on speed dial while pressing the phone between her ear and shoulder, the call going to voicemail on the first attempt. “this bitch is a whore,” she grumbles out before redialing, and you don’t hesitate to answer the second time.

“hi babe,” you say with a shaky voice.

“drop it,” sana growled, her hand palming her pussy over her underwear at your voice, “you really thought it’d be a good idea to send me fucking nudes while i’m working?”

it was so easy to tell how wet and needy sana was to fuck you up. the way that her voice sounded, you could already assume that she’s trying to deal with the problem as well. so you kept circling your fingers over your clit while your cunt reflexively clenched around the air, “sounds like you’re enjoying it, aren’t you sha?”

sana lowers her panties just a bit, licking her three fingers before rubbing her clit slightly, “so slutty, making me want to do something about it.”

her ear hears the sound of you softly moaning over her harsh words, slipping a finger inside yourself while the moans make their way to sana’s ears again.

“are you touching yourself? you better not be y/n, i swear to god.” she snaps, rubbing herself faster. sana became so angry and horny to the point that she may be skipping some lines in the script. she wanted nothing else but to be her fingers rubbing your clit, sliding, and pounding them in and out of your fuck hole.

“what are you gonna do about it, then?” you sigh, letting an inch of your finger inside yourself again.

“don’t, stop, just—” sana’s tripping up over her demands, “just stop trying to do any of that as punishment for sending me pics while i’m working.”

sana couldn’t help to admit that this was actually hot. even when your bratty behavior was gonna send her up the fucking wall in more than five ways. “i’m warning you, keep that shit up and you’ll see what happens.”

“and what then?” you asked again, licking your lips while smiling.

“you bitch, i swear–”

you cut her off by pushing two fingers into your cunt, gasping.

“are you fucking touching yourself again? you better not be.” sana asks again, growling.

all you did was giggle, then hang up afterwards.

now you pissed sana off.

sana slides her hand out of her panties, fingers moving at hyperspeed in a fit, spamming you with messages about the bratty behavior you just displayed, but stopped to see another photo and video that you sent to her.

the photo first made her fist and jaw clench. her softball jersey was now pulled up over your boobs, nipples out in full while your legs were spread wider, nearly splitting, with your second and third fingers all the way into your pussy.

a brat is what you are.

when sana swipes for the video, it’s so much worse. the sound of you mewling loudly as you rubbed your clit in a clockwise motion, letting them slowly dip between your legs, soaking up the juices seeping out, you were lathering yourself up while some of the remnants dripped over onto the bed sheets and staining them.

sana had cleaned her bed just yesterday, you really were a fucking brat.

after that, sana inserted her fingers into her mouth to get them more slicked, rubbing up her cunt at a faster pace from the thought of your video, her head drops back against the stall, biting down on her collar while texting you with her left hand.

sana: you’re fucking done for

you: oh?

sana: you heard me.

you: what are you gonna do?

sana: you’ll see

sana: keep doing that to yourself and watch what happens.

tossing the phone away, you smiled at the successful task of getting sana aggressively ready, slipping on your white panties back up your legs from the floor.

sana stops herself before she could let the desires get to her head, the relief of cumming won’t be the solution. she swipes through the photos and the couple videos you sent her, watching over and over of how slicked you were. she could stay here for a few more minutes and take care of her problem, but she already was ahead with what’s coming later. so, she made the picture of you with her jersey name on the back as her wallpaper, cropped up to the half where it didn’t expose your ass before getting out of the bathroom.

she still had a way to go though, work wasn’t done yet and sana still had to hit the batting cages. the workday was already going to be productive after hours, but sana had to practice her patience. little did you realize that sana felt like she lost. the fact that you didn’t listen to her? making her more horny? as a matter of fact, you made her so mad while being bratty when she’s busy? once sana has you in her sights, it’s game over. she may have been gentle with you before, but the fire that’s spread was too much to handle.

—

the small crackle of the pan for tonight’s dinner filled up the kitchen while you scoured the cupboards for a few more ingredients to put in the spaghetti and meatballs. you looked over at the analog clock at the corner learning into the living room to see that sana had probably got off to practice, keeping in mind of the delicious meal that she’ll eat when she gets back.

well, that would be the case–

if sana hadn’t skipped her batting session with the team.

she carefully made her way inside, ensuring that no sound was heard from the doorknob or her shoe when she slipped them off. quietly, almost like a serial killer about to finish the job, she creeps her way to the counter to see that your back was turned facing her.

sana made her way to the bedroom. thankfully, the door was open and it only took her a few seconds to slip out of her pants, keeping on her dress shirt with her tie and leaving her lower regions only covered by her underwear. tip-toeing back out towards the kitchen, she could hear you softly hum to the song that was playing from your phone, her eyes caught with the small shake from your hips.

you were lightly head bopping, not giving a care for any outside interruptions. just simply cooking in the most domestic way possible, it was cute.

sana showered you with love. the sight of you doing everything in all the right checkmarks made her forgive you for a slight second. she could just walk up and act like nothing happened, let you off just this once with what you did, but the white panties and one of sana’s oversized shirts pulled her back to reality, and sana bit her lip with what was going to happen.

a small clink of the empty plate hitting granite was soft until you felt a pair of hands touch you from behind. the right hand slithering to your neck while the left hand was caressing your ass. you lean your head back to feel sana’s perfect nose against the side of your face.

your breath stops for a second when sana plants a kiss to the spot behind your ear, her right hand now caressing the other cheek of your ass, fingertips fiddling with the fabric that’s holding your hole captive from sana. she flips you over to the small kitchen island across you two, body against the cold surface when you feel her chest flush with your back, her hot breath in your ear again, “trying to be the good girl by cooking up dinner?”

sana grins against your face when she hears you let out a whine, “sa, why are you back so–”

“skipped the batting session, need some other things to pitch after work.”

her pitch being the punishment that she promised to give you. the slick that was leaking out of you stained your panties, the beat of your heart rapidly increasing while your mind was trying to think of the different combinations of what sana was going to do to you. you also felt her bare leg against your thigh, and she still had her dress shirt and tie, unbuttoned and everything.

sana lets her hand trail down your back, her right hand caressing your ass before looping around to skate your clit with the lightest touch. she clicks her tongue when she feels the first hints of wetness soak her fingertips. to be fair, you got yourself fucking soaked. building up to this was already skipped, and sana was furious.

“what did i say about touching yourself?” she growled, biting lightly down on your neck that made you moan more loudly, “you could’ve had the easy way out if you listened to me.”

it could’ve been so easy, but that wasn’t your style. backing up your ass against her, she shoots her hands to your hips, “don’t do that. you don’t get to fucking move.”

all you had to do was obey, keeping your body to the best of your ability, resisting the urge to rub your thighs together in anticipation for what’s about to happen. sana slides down from your body, eyes drifting to your white lace panties, seeing the damp spot at the center, all for her.

slipping out of your panties was too much of a hassle, even if it was for only a few seconds. she didn’t want to have fun taking her time, tearing away the garment that fills the sound of the kitchen.

“sana!” you exclaimed, trying to get off of the counter, only to feel sana’s large hand right on the part below your neck, pressing your cheek onto the glossy surface again, “those were my favorite pair!”

“too bad, don’t care,” sana coos, rubbing her thumb in circles on one of the balls of your spine, as her other pairs of fingers slid down to your cunt, “that’s what happens when you act like a little bitch while i was gone. i told you not to move, that’s strike two now.”

“f-fuck,” you groan out barely while sana finally gets to work. she circled her fingers fastly over your clit, taking everything in your body to not moan out due to the stimulation. sana liked it when she hears you cry for her, but take that away and you’re doubling down on acting like a brat.

sana also doubled down, she was already aware that you’d probably hold yourself back those lovely sounds she wanted to hear all for getting back at her. it’s unlucky that she knows how your body is in every way, how to get you running, the way her hands and mouth have you chanting at the top of your lungs, begging her to stop for the whole floor to hear.

she slides her hand up your back, wrapping it in your hair before yanking back, pulling you up that made you yelp out in pain, chuckling at the response. “you wanna be like a brat for me, huh? this is all your doing by the way.”

the demeanor starts to lose its effect while sana’s long fingers continue to pepper your clit, mouth filled with all the worse things about how much of a slut you were, a whore, how stupid it was for you to act the way that you did with her today.

“sa,” you whine again, body tensing as sana removed her fingers away from your pussy, the climax swiped away from you. second nature for you, moving your own fingers down to the heat to get yourself off, only for sana to grab your hand away, shoving you back onto the countertop, arms behind your back while you struggled for breath.

“no,” she groaned, moving your hips up more so that your feet are dangling from the hardwood floor. “dumb bitches don’t deserve to cum, not when they don’t listen the first time.”

you struggle, trying to set yourself free against the surface, “sa, please. i’m sorry.”

sana smiles, that devilish one tugging the corners of her lips while her upper and bottom ones just stay still. she finally got to you.

“yeah?” she whispers again, taking her fingers and lining them up to your cunt, “what was that? you’re sorry now?”

nodding, hand clutching to her free wrist. you wanted her big hands to be inside you so bad that you’d be willing to beg for it, apologize for your sins if it meant that you get what you wanted.

sana lets her fingertips in slowly, “i can’t hear you, slut. are you sorry?”

“yes, i’m sorry.” panting, breath shackled under the pressure of sana’s hand on your back. “please, i’m sorry for being a fucking brat.”

you only hear a hum, she’s pondering if your apology was good enough for you to be let off the hook, “i’ll take it, but you’ll still get this treatment for today.” she says, sliding her fingers all the way in, curling just at the first knuckle past the fingernails. this causes you to stutter a string of ‘yeses’ from the feeling of her filling your sorry cunt up.

sana then slides your hips a bit back so that she can wrap her other hand over to your clit, both hands and fingers working simultaneously as the pressure slowly starts to build up right off the bat. you’re letting out louder moans, saliva slipping out trying to get the hair out of your mouth.

“can’t hear you baby,” sana groans, biting her lip. “open up that pretty mouth of yours.”

this only makes you moan even louder, your walls clenching around her two fingers, and she ramps up the pace. you feel the same coil in your stomach building up, sputtering words that were saying that you were close, and sana stops her movements suddenly.

you let your knees hit the cabinets below you, breathing uncontrollably and sana just laughs, “i told you. dumb sluts don’t get to cum.” and your eyes meet hers, dark contrasting with light, sana over you, like it was meant to be.

she continued to edge you, hands moving at the same pace that got you up to your high, reminding you over and over that this was what happens when you fuck around and find out. that release you fantasized about while leaking over her bed sheets being taken away that you wanted so much.

you could feel tears coming out from your eyes, meeting hers again to only see that she’s blown out, lust filled to the brim. sana was losing her mind over you, those pretty eyes that could leave you flustered in any normal scenario, sobs and tears from your face making her grin more at you.

“okay, i think you deserve it.” sana says with a whisper, kissing the small of your back. “cum for me sweetie, cum all over my fingers.”

sana loved teasing and edging you to no avail, the control was thrilling for her. she basked in the sight of ruining you to nothing but mush.

“fuck, yes baby,” sana moans out when you finally clench around her fingers, moving her other fingers on your clit with no shortage of slowing down. she could feel the click seeping out to her fingers, sliding them out to see them soaked in your arousal, licking them clean before she rubs your hips to soothe the ache slightly.

then she flips you over.

hands darting for the underside of your knees, lifting them up above her head before you felt the flat of her tongue get that first lick of your cunt, bucking your hips at the sudden contact and a yelp from your lips. sana groans against your core, fingers pressing hard into your skin enough to leave a noticeable bruise for you to assess later.

you try to prop yourself up while sana’s tongue lashes your puffy folds and leaking walls, her hand were quick to your waist, pressing you down while your hand rakes up her hair, pulling away to bite the inside of your thigh.

“fuck, sana–”

“shh,” she starts, “i’m gonna fuck this attitude out of you now, scream all you want.”

before you could respond, sana’s mouth is back on your lips, hands gripping the divot where your legs and hips meet, tongue moving all the ways that has you complaining for more. it’s even worse when the pace comes back in the form of her fingers, three fingers in fact, stretching you open that has you quivering the bottom row of your teeth.

“baby, baby baby baby, right there, shit–please don’t, fuck!” you whine again, the moans watering down your words when sana’s twisting your insides for her own benefit. sana herself was losing her mind, drunk on the very gift of your sweet nectar that could give her a lifetime to live, eyes up to you with your head leaned back, one hand over your breast clutching the jersey over it.

“please please please–”

sana was so drunk in love with you.

she lowers your legs, wrapping them around her head to close her in. you’re sitting up now, mouth hanging low still as she’s doing everything to make you cum, this might also be enough for her to cum along with you as well. “you’re close, baby?”

“sa, please–yes yes.” you answer, hand curtaining her hair when a foot slips over and hits her in the back on accident. she keeps herself going, fucking you where you’re holding the counter to the point your knuckles turn white. the plate that’s off to the side is shoved off the top, expression frozen when a crash is heard on the floor below. she’s groaning as well, very turned on at the fact that you cum all over her tongue, savoring the second climax when you’re shrieking, shaking, faltering back flat on the counter while sana makes sure to get every last drop.

pulling away with an audible smack, sana pants, running her hands on the side of your waist and hips, softly planting kisses around your swollen lips and cunt, then to your thighs. “fuck…” she then slides her fingers up your lips again, the lingering slick soaking them again, bringing it up to your mouth, sucking and licking your own taste off her. “you look so good like this, love.”

you mouth a ‘thank you’ with a lazy smile.

sana is then quick to tend to your care, swooping you up for a hug, kissing your face before landing on your lips for a longer, dragged out smooch. just when you think you’re done, sana’s eyes are glazed, smiling between your lips for another kiss before landing them around your jaw and collarbone. “you’ve got something to pick up while i get started with eating, okay?”

“sana…” is all you say, and again, she just giggles at you. once she removed herself against you, taking off the tie around her unbuttoned dress shirt and wrapping it around your neck. after she did that, she walked over to the stove to grab a plate, your eyes studying the form of her arms with those rolled up sleeves, the hint of veins on her creamy skin, the straight but still ruffled hair she flips over to the side. it’s dangerously sexy, and you’d fall for it every single time.

“oh, y/n lovely,” sana calls over, humming in response, watching as she unbuttones more of her shirt, exposing her matching set of her black bra and panties when she turns to you, “make sure you don’t lock your jaw now. you’re gonna eat me out while i eat, or after.”

you close your legs to soothe that lingering ache you’ll be asking for again, biting your lip when you see the sway of her hips when she walks over to the dining table.

keeping a note that being a brat to sana might be a good idea to do whenever she’s not home.

#twice imagines #kpop imagines #sana #minatozaki sana #sana x reader #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice sana #sana twice #gg smut #kpop smut #minatozaki sana x reader

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undreaming-fanfiction · 3 months

Text

As a crazy cat lady, may I offfer...

Eddie who has always loved cats, how free and soft and elegant they are, how they purr and close their eyes in affection, how they make him forget all his worries and stress. He's loved them ever since a neighbor's cat found him crying behind the trailer after he got bullied for his new haircut, the last gift from his shitty dad before Eddie got whisked away by the social services. The cat ignored his sniffling and jumped in his lap, plopping herself over the bony knees and thin thighs, and when she started rubbing her face against his scraped palm, Eddie felt complete.

He can't adopt one yet because he lives with Wayne who is allergic. Wayne offers to take antihistamines but Eddie refuses, he doesn't want to inconvenience him in his own home. Still, he dreams of one day sometime in the future, a small apartment of his own and at least two cats who will greet him when he comes home.

Eddie finds himself volunteering in a shelter and when a new cat café opens, he jumps at the opportunity. He is hired and spends his days taking of their cat ensemble and preparing delicious coffees. Cats help him be less jittery and more grounded, so it's a win win. Eddie loves this job.

Enter Steve Harrington, an insanely handsome man who stops by to make a reservation. Eddie is his usual flirty self, although he expects Steve will bring a date and that's the end of that. But then Steve leans to Eddie and asks: "Listen, uh...I will need some help."

Suppressing an internal groan, Eddie asks: "what, do you need me to drop an engagement ring into the coffee or something? Because can do, but it needs to be sanitized first."

"Oh no. Not that, no..." Steve runs his fingers through his hair and even though it looks like a nervous gesture, Eddie is seconds away from a cuteness induced nosebleed. "Not at all. I just...I have a little sister, you know? I mean, my adoptive dad is fostering her and she's the kindest girl you've met, but she had it rough in her original family. Apparently there was something involving animals and...she loves cats so much, but is terrified of hurting them. She would never!" he clarifies when he sees a frown forming on Eddie's forehead. "It's just that whenever she showed affection to any animal, her biological father made sure it would get hurt or at least chased away. And that's gone, that man is in jail and I just...I want to show her that it's okay to love animals again. That she can pet a purring cat without worrying about its safety."

Eddie just stares at him with mouth open. "That's...wow," he says. "Sorry. Processing."

Steve does the hair thing again and laughs and Eddie thinks that this man deserves a brother of the year award, yep, he'll ask Gareth to 3D print one right fucking now. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to dump all that on you, but I had to be honest because this is a big deal to her. To me as well. Just...listen, I like cats a lot, but I'm not the best at interpreting what they mean, their body language and all that. And I really need Jane to have someone here that can tell her what to do, when she's doing a good job...someone who will protect the kitties if she messes up. Her words. I know it's a lot to ask, but..."

But Eddie shushes him. "Say no more, big boy. I'll be here and I'll give the young lady the cat experience of a lifetime."

Eddie used to think he couldn't love his job any more. But with Jane's uncertain smile and big eyes, her incredulous squeal when a cat chose her for the first time, when she kept asking Eddie for specifics of each cat in his care - "which one is more shy, which one likes to be picked up, which one is a picky eater?" - he thinks he's finally found his calling. Steve beams at him and comes back the next day with a bag of approved cat treats for the cats and a box of chocolates for Eddie as a thank you, then asks him out for a dinner - "if that is even appropriate, shit, sorry, I don't want you to feel pressured or something, this is your job, I get it, but I just really admire you and you were amazing to Jane, uh, and the stuff you say about cats is so interesting I'd just love to hear more". Eddie's heart flutters like the traitor it is and he thinks - maybe this is someone I could adopt a cat with one day.

And unsurprisingly, he's right.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eleven stranger things #jane hopper #steddie au #cat cafe au #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ONE PARAGRAPH FFS

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astralis-ortus · 1 month

Text

game for two

✱ husband!bc × gn!reader

— guess who just got his old yearbook in the mail?

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff, married life!au, non-idol!chan warnings → minor cussing (light hearted context), chan referred to as chris ⋆ see masterlist

coming home from work, you’re usually greeted with one of the following—an empty house, a soft reverberating beat from the small, cozy studio located at one end of your home, or a soft snore while some romance movie thickens its plot on the screen of your neatly mounted tv.

a view of your husband with a stack of books on his lap, however, was not exactly something you would ever have in your bingo card.

“whatcha up to?” became your follow up question after chris’ quick how-was-your-day debrief. it didn’t take you long before promptly securing the spot next to your husband, where he—judging from the way your ivory-colored couch emanates heat—had been hanging around on for quite some time now. “i don’t think i’ve seen those books before.”

“mm, just got them in the mail today,” chris hummed, an arm swiftly encaged your figure as he attempts wrap you in his warmth, “mum and dad found these in the attic while they were clearing out the house. thought would be better to keep these here than to fill up space in their new home.”

it only took you a second to realize what kind of book your husband has been flipping through when a familiar-yet-way-younger-looking dimpled smile came into view, eternally captured in the printed sheet. “oh! baby chris!”

“good lord,” a chuckle ignited from the depth of his chest, ones that always pair with the soft crinkles near his eyes and sometimes a nuzzle to your hair when he couldn’t stand the adoration bubbling in his heart, “i was an angsty, moody teenager there, not a baby.”

“sure, whatever you say, baby,” you teased, emphasizing the word as you stole the perfectly conditioned yearbook from his hands. you’ve seen countless of chris’ teenager years' pictures, sure, but what harm could it bring to have a peek at more?

chris comically let out a sigh as he rolled his eyes—a signature telltale of his attempt to ‘look’ annoyed. “you’d really be in a huge trouble if you call an angsty teenager a baby, you know.”

“i don’t, actually,” eyeing the faint playful glint in chris’ eyes, you decided to lure him into a game. after all, what’s a more fun way to spend your evening than to bicker with your husband? “what would this-” you pointed at his half-heartedly grinning self of the past, “-angsty teenager do if teenager me called him a baby?”

another set of chuckles escapes him—ones louder, which, more often than not, indicates his approval of the arena you’ve built.

he’s in the game.

“well, for starters,” chris tilted his head, quite obviously setting himself to get a full view of your reaction just by gauging the godawfully attractive smirk he got etched on his lips, “i’d probably…”

“…probably?”

his way of building suspense will one day definitely be the death of you. really. if you were honest to yourself, you would actually rather kiss that damned smirk off his face right now—but the game has just started, and you’d hate to lose to your husband on your own little trick.

only… would he even let you win?

“well…” shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, chris continued,

”i’d probably tell you to fuck off.”

the way your grin transformed into a face of utter disbelief was enough of a trigger to fill the room with echoes of chris’ laugh, filling the space with the kind of warmth you’ve only known after you met him. for now, however, you feel like you’ve been betrayed.

“that’s rude!” you huffed, incredulous. though arms are now completely folded in front of your chest, chris knew you’d still let him push more of your buttons; otherwise, why would you still melt into him?

“i’m your future wife! how could you tell me to fuck off?”

“in his defense, he didn’t know that!” he countered, wiping a stray tear which had involuntarily escaped while he was celebrating his first strike. "he was just a kid who thought the world in general was a mean ol' crone, so he just, you know, returned the energy."

"meeting you, however," setting his yearbooks aside, chris then took the chance to entrap you in his arms, "has changed my view about the world—for the better—and i owe you my life for that."

you've been speculating that there's something going on about chris' voice—is he a siren? or is he actually a highly skilled mage? how is it that his voice alone has never failed to untangle every single jumbled up knots under your skin?

or maybe, just maybe, the problem is you—because unknowingly, somewhere along the way, chris had long become your achilles heels.

"...shut up, christopher."

"aw- look at your ear! they're burning!"

"shut up!"

"heh- i love you too, baby."

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