#he watches tv and its in one ear and out the other. the man is the antithesis of fandom

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PEREGRINE // FOUR

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You and May go dress shopping before heading to her house for some bonding time. There, she pieces together the truth of your past with Nagi, prompting you to finally reveal everything.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4.8k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: i have written and rewritten this chapter so many times it’s illegal and also i still hate it LMFAOAO but at this point the story must go on!!

divider credits: @/benkeibear

“Can we please please please come now?” Reo whined through the phone. You could imagine the way his eyebrows would be drawn together, his eyes huge and shiny with desperation, his mouth twisted with raw sadness as he begged you, and it made you huff. You glanced over at May, who had finally, after hours of trying things on, decided on the dress she wanted to wear for her wedding. Sensing the opportunity to mess with Reo, who had been inundating you with phone calls almost the entire time the two of you had been dress shopping, you smirked.

“No, you can’t. Your future wife is as picky as you are impatient; I don’t know if she’ll even be able to pick a dress before the place closes for the day. Maybe we can plan on doing something tomorrow?” you said.

“What?” he shrieked. There was a thudding noise over the receiver, and you could only imagine that that meant he had dropped his phone on the ground.

“Hello?” you said. Your only response was a shuffling on the other end of the line, and then a soft breath as the phone was held to someone’s ear.

“Y/N, don’t bother Reo like that when I’m responsible for his emotional wellbeing. It’s so annoying.”

“Nagi,” you said, swallowing at just the sound of his sleepy voice. “Give Reo his phone back.”

“Mm, no can do,” Nagi said, his quiet irritation so strong you could feel its weight settling over your shoulders despite your distance. “He’s run off to call a taxi.”

“Call a — that idiot! Is he planning on coming even though I told him not to?” you said.

“Guess so,” he said. “Oh, man, he’s waving me over. Guess I better go…”

“Hold on a second!” you said.

“Hm?” he said. “Ah — Reo, what the hell? No, I’m not making things strange — stop it!”

You blinked, bemused, as Reo’s muffled voice scolded Nagi while he weakly protested. In the end, Reo must’ve won the spat, for he was the one to speak to you next.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry you had to talk to him. And after I promised you I wouldn’t leave the two of you alone!” Reo said.

“It’s okay, Reo, it was just a phone call. If I was uncomfortable, I would’ve hung up,” you said.

“If you say so. Anyways, we’re on our way,” he said.

“I told you not to come, stupid, not the other way around,” you said.

“And I almost believed you, but then I thought about it a little more, and I realized that there was a high chance that you were full of shit,”he said. “What wedding dress appointment takes this long?”

“You obviously haven’t watched enough reality TV,” you said. “There’s this one show that Ryosuke and I used to watch on the weekends where the brides have to choose their dresses live, and let me tell you, some of those sessions really did last an entire day.”

“Okay, but if a bride is crazy enough to be on a reality television show while picking out her wedding dress, then it’s not a surprise that she’d also be hard to please. May isn’t like that; she’s definitely picky, don’t get me wrong, but not in that way,” he explained.

He said it so familiarly: May isn’t like that. You were almost jealous of the way that he understood her so well, understood her to the point that he would catch a taxi to see her a little earlier because he knew she wasn’t the demanding type. You wanted to be understood like that. You wanted someone to be so comfortable with knowing you again.

“You got me,” you said. “I was just joking around. She finished up a few minutes before you called. If you hadn’t flipped out and dropped your phone before running away, I would’ve said that, as well.”

“You’re such a jerk. You’re a major jerk, did you know that?” Reo said.

“I’ve been told,” you said. He scoffed.

“True,” he said. “Okay, we’ll be there soon. Talk to you then!”

“I think May wants me to start trying dresses on myself now, so I’ll probably be getting changed when you guys get here. You can see me in my options and help me choose, though, if you’d like. Ryosuke is busy, so he can’t, which means you’re my next-best option,” you said.

“Ooh, sounds like a blast,” he said. “You know I’m always up for a fashion show!”

“I know,” you said. “Alright, they’re calling me over, so I should hang up. Bye!”

With that, you ended the call and trotted over to where May was talking with the willowy, long-haired designer who was in charge of constructing her dress — a glamorous man by the name of Jyubei Aryu.

“Are you the maid of honor?” Aryu said when you joined him and May, tucking your phone into your pocket as you did so that it did not distract you.

“I am,” you said.

“Wonderful. I’ve put a dress which I found suitable on the rack in the fitting room; please call for assistance if you need it,” he said.

“Thank you!” you said, going in the direction that he had indicated, ducking into the fitting room and admiring the dress he had provided you with.

It was a blush pink, in keeping with the theme of the wedding, and made of a pretty, expensive fabric that you definitely would not be able to afford if Reo had not insisted on paying for the entire wedding party’s outfits. When you slipped it on, it flowed against your skin like water, and it was just as light and comfortable, too. The intricate detailing on the bodice did not itch, and the skirt swished around your ankles as you took uncertain steps forward, acclimatizing yourself to the feel of the gown before daring to venture out in front of the others.

You knew without even asking their opinions that you wanted to get it. Perhaps Ryosuke would shame you for it — you were growing so terrible at being able to discern his will, so for all you knew, he’d hate the option, but it mattered little to you. You liked the dress. You found it beautiful.

Aryu had graciously left a pair of heels approximately your size by the dress, so that it did not drag on the floor when you walked. Fastening the buckle of the dainty ankle strap, you opened the door to the fitting room and crept out to the waiting area, where you knew May would eagerly be waiting to see what you were in.

“Oh, wow,” May said when you rounded the corner. “Y/N! You look so beautiful!”

“Thank you,” you said. “I really like this one. Do you think it’s appropriate for a maid of honor?”

Hers was the only negative you’d entertain. If she didn’t think that the dress was suitable for her wedding, then you’d let go of the idea, albeit begrudgingly. After all, it was her wedding, and whatever she said was what went.

“It’s perfect,” she said, pretending to wipe away a tear, as if you were the bride and she were your lovingly overbearing mother. “Say yes to the dress, Y/N! Although I’m afraid you’ll outshine me if you’re standing next to me in that.”

“Be real,” you said, rolling your eyes. “No one could ever outshine you, May.”

Just then, the bell on the door chimed, announcing someone’s arrival, though it needn’t have. Only seconds after he had stepped in, Reo was declaring his presence to the public with that same gaudy, business-like professionalism he oozed every time he was forced to engage in high society.

“Hello, hello,” he said, somehow managing to simultaneously nod at the secretary, shake hands with Aryu, and wink at you and May, all without looking harried or awkward. “My apologies for any inconvenience our late arrival might have caused. It seems my fiancée’s dearest maid of honor was finding some humor in giving Nagi and I the old run around.”

“It’s not a problem,” Aryu said. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mikage.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Reo said. “This is Seishiro Nagi, by the way. My best man.”

“It’s good to meet you, too, Mr. Nagi. My wife was a big fan of yours back when you were playing soccer,” Aryu said, holding out his newly-freed hand to Nagi’s in greeting. But Nagi did not take it, far too distracted to even notice, although his phone was for once not in his hands. Reo, who would never let his perfect facade drop in public but obviously wanted to scowl and smack his friend for the rudeness, turned his head to see what could possibly be holding Nagi’s attention if not a screen, and then his eyes widened, because he realized that it was you.

Nagi was gazing over at you in that way only he ever had, that way only he ever could. The weight of his stare was hot and adoring, like there was nothing else in the entire world he could be troubled with, like he’d carry a thousand burdens if it meant that you’d let him collapse at your feet once he grew tired, like you were the one pain he’d willingly take and even seek out. That was the way that Seishiro Nagi gazed at you, and the only thing you could do was cross your arms, like that paltry gesture could ever be enough to ward him off, like you even wanted to ward him off in the first place.

“If you say so,” May sang under her breath, so only you could hear. You startled, having forgotten that she was still standing next to you.

“Ah, Nagi’s not played soccer in a bit,” Reo said, discreetly stepping on Nagi’s foot, breaking him out of his trance. “But I’m sure he appreciates the support. Right, Nagi?”

“Huh?” Nagi said, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he blinked sleepily at Aryu. “Oh. Yeah, right. Does she want an autograph or something?”

“I’m sure she would be delighted!” Aryu said, producing a pad of paper and a pen for Nagi to scrawl his messy signature onto.

“You got your dress?” Reo said, his arm going around May’s waist as he pressed a kiss to her temple. She nodded and beamed up at him.

“It’s amazing,” she said. “The exact kind of dress that I imagined I’d get married in one day.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” he said.

“I wish my mom was here,” May said. “She was so sad that she couldn’t make it in time. I FaceTimed her and all, but it’s not the same, you know?”

“I told your parents not to worry about work or anything,” Reo said, rolling his eyes. “They should’ve just flown over with Y/N and Kira. If their bosses gave them any trouble, I’d have sent lawyers after them or something.”

“Neither of them are comfortable taking advantage of you,” May chided him. “You know that.”

They continued to converse, and you took a step back, feeling as if you were intruding on something private. Rubbing your arm, you stared at the ground, wondering what Ryosuke might be doing back at the hotel. Was he truly taking a nap, as he had claimed? Or was he with another girl again?

Well. Either way, you supposed he was most likely in bed. Snorting at the double entendre, you almost missed Nagi’s soft tap on your shoulder.

“Hi,” he said. You opened your mouth, and then you closed it again, not wanting to be too hasty, not wanting to say something you shouldn’t when Reo and May were right there beside you.

“Hi,” you said back.

“That’s the dress you’re getting for the wedding?” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, adjusting the straps.

“It’s nice,” he said. “You look nice.”

It was such a simple statement that it barely counted as a compliment, but you could not stop the corners of your mouth from twitching as they fought to curve into a smile. After all, hearing things like that from Nagi were so rare — he was never one to find much merit in praising just about anyone.

“Thanks,” you said. “Ryosuke wanted me to choose something pretty, so…”

You saw the way his face closed off at the mention of Ryosuke and immediately cringed, though no one else would even be able to discern the imperceptible shift of his expression. Still, you were quite certain when he shrugged his shoulders slightly in approval that there was distaste brewing in his blank irises, and you bit your tongue, cursing yourself for ruining his mood before pausing.

Why did you care? It was your right to bring up the man you were to marry, wasn’t it? In fact, it was the honorable thing to do, considering your history with Nagi. The reminder was a good thing. A boundary that needed to be set. Something along those lines. So why, then, did it feel wrong? Like you had further torn apart something you might’ve still had a chance at mending?

“He’ll be satisfied, then,” he said. “You’re pretty.”

“Isn’t she?” May said brightly, somehow manifesting at your side, though you had not noticed her walking over. “I told her as much! You should definitely get it, Y/N, if even Nagi can find it in his heart to say something sweet to you about it.”

“Speaking of getting things, Nagi, come on,” Reo said, also appearing from nowhere to tug on Nagi’s sleeve. “We have shopping to do for ourselves. Let’s leave the two of them alone.”

The notion of Reo leaving you alone was so foreign that you almost protested, but then he grinned at you over his shoulder and you recalled his promise, about how he would ensure you and Nagi were not stuck together at any point, as long as it was within his means to keep you both apart.

You didn’t want Nagi to go, though. You didn’t want Reo to keep the two of you apart, but how could you tell him that? Did the words even exist for you to explain any of it? You thought that they mustn’t.

“By the way, I convinced Reo to sleep at Nagi’s tonight,” May said.

“Why would you do that?” you said.

“He should bond with his best man a bit!” she said. “As for me, there’s a lot of bonding that I want to do with you, Miss Maid-of-Honor, and I don’t think you’ll answer my questions if Reo’s within earshot, so this was the perfect idea!”

“I think that I’m not going to like your questions and your bonding very much,” you said.

“Too bad!” she said. “I’m the bride, so you have to do what I say!”

“It’s not your wedding day yet, you know,” you pointed out. “Technically, that doesn’t hold.”

“What happened to you wanting to make my life easier and all of that nonsense?” she said. “I’m just asking you for this one favor, so you really ought to grant it!”

“Okay, okay,” you said. “Let me make sure Ryosuke is fine with me staying at your place again.”

You brought out your phone to call your fiancé, but May snatched it out of your hands the instant he picked up.

“Kira? This is May. Yes, May Ducat, how many Mays do you think Y/N knows and spends time with? She’s going to sleep over again tonight so that she can help me with some preparation stuff. No, you’re right, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Uh-huh. Oh my god, did you know my future husband could buy your entire life? Shut up and let me have my best friend for the night! You get her every single day back in America, so now it’s my turn!” she said, making a face.

“May!” you said. She handed you back the phone, showing you that Ryosuke had hung up, and then she gave you a double-thumbs-up.

“We’re set for the night!” she said. “I’m so excited!”

“I was literally at your house earlier today. You should’ve just asked me your questions then,” you said.

“Um, like I said, I doubted you would answer if Reo was around, and anyways, I just came up with some of them now,” she said.

“Whatever,” you said. “Okay. I’m excited, too.”

You were not, considering the types of questions you sensed she was going to ask, but when she tackled you in a hug and promised you that you would have so, so much fun, it was hard to say that aloud.

Luckily, all of your things were still at May and Reo’s, so after everything was bought and paid for, with shipping arranged via one of Reo’s assistants, you could go straight to their house instead of having to stop at the hotel again. Reo, who had taken a cab back to get his car before dropping you off, waved merrily as the two of you stepped into the driveway.

“Have a nice night, both of you!” he said.

“You, too. Try to finish that one zombie adventure thing you and Nagi started last month. I don’t want to hear about it on our honeymoon,” May said.

“Actually, we both got the new Pokémon games while we were waiting for you to finish choosing your dress, so we’re going to start those together tonight and see who can beat the Champion first,” Reo said.

“Make sure to choose the fire type starter, then,” she said seriously. “They’re always the best ones.”

“No, Nagi usually chooses water, so I have to pick grass, just in case he challenges me to a battle at some point,” Reo said.

“Only lame people choose grass,” May said. “I always go for fire. What about you, Y/N?”

“I’ve only played Pokémon once, and it wasn’t my game, so I didn’t even finish it,” you said. “And I picked the one I thought was the cutest. I do think it was the fire one, though.”

“That’s what I like to see!” May said, high-fiving you.

“And how many battles have either of you beaten Nagi in?” Reo said. “That’s right, zero. So I don’t want to hear it!”

“How many battles have you beaten Nagi in?” May said. Reo glared at her.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, rolling the window up and driving off without another word.

“If only the girls at my high school had known what a big baby Reo really is,” you said. “They wouldn’t have made a fan club for him.”

“He actually had a fan club?” May said. “He told me that that wasn’t real!”

“It was real,” you affirmed. “Believe me. The Reo Mikage Fan Club and I have a long and storied history, so you should trust me more than him on the topic.”

“Were you a member?” she said, unlocking the front door and ushering you in. You choked on your saliva at the mere prospect.

“No way!” you said, sitting down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter while May dug around in her cabinets.

“Found it!” she said, brandishing a box of grocery store mac and cheese. “Reo would have a fit if he knew this was in our house, so I’ve kept it hidden away for a special occasion, but what’s more special than this? Also, I was just kidding.”

“Remember when we made Reo eat those cups of mac and cheese that you make in the microwave and he almost threw up?” you said.

“Yup,” she said. “And then he started complaining about the chemicals and additives and whatnot! As if that’s not half of the fun and flavor.”

“That must’ve been before Chigiri had the fire department called on him for forgetting the water in his microwave noodles,” you said. “The RA banned their microwave after that, right?”

“Oh, jeez, I forgot that that happened! They used to have to come to our room to warm up their leftovers,” May said, shaking her head. “What a time.”

“Do you miss it?” you said.

“Being in college?” she said. “Yes and no. I miss being your roommate and seeing you all of the time, and I miss how carefree everything was back then, but at the same time, I’m really happy now. I wouldn’t trade those years for anything, but I don’t mind that they’re over. Whatever comes next, I’m sure it’ll be great in its own way, even if it’s different. Maybe especially because it’s different.”

“That’s a good way of looking at things,” you said.

“What about you?” she said.

“The same, I guess. I miss everyone being together,” you said. “I still have Ryosuke and Chigiri, but it’s not the same without you and Reo there. My life is much more stable now, so that’s a positive, but sometimes I do wish I could go back and change things.”

“What would you change?” May said.

“I’m not sure,” you said. “It’s just a thought. I wish I could know what my life would look like now if I had followed a different path at some point or another, you know?”

“You told me earlier that you weren’t happy,” she said, putting down a dish of macaroni in front of you, sitting down at your side with her own plate. “That you were satisfied, but not happy.”

“That’s right,” you said.

“Why can’t you be both?” she said. “Why can’t you be happy and satisfied with your life?”

“I just can’t,” you said.

“There is a reason,” she said. “Tell me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“You can’t help me regardless,” you said bitterly, stabbing a clump of pasta with your fork. “I gave up my chance at happiness for the sake of my future, that’s all. I left it behind in search of the very life I have now. You’ve known since we met that I don’t have any particular dreams; if my existence is mundane and tired, then it’s okay. That’s my goal. Not everyone gets to be Cinderella like you, May.”

“Left it behind in search of the very life you have now…” May muttered, narrowing her eyes at you. Although psychology had not been her degree, it was suddenly so clear why she had chosen to minor in it — she was uncannily good at reading people. “It, or him?”

You dropped your fork. “What did you just say?”

“Correct once again!” she said triumphantly. “I’ve been suspecting it for a bit. There’s someone else, isn’t there? I was so sure it was Chigiri, but I could never find the final bit of proof for that theory, so I was forced to dismiss it. This led to a new puzzle, though: if not Chigiri, then who? You’ve always tended to avoid talking to guys, at least as long as we’ve been friends, so the list of options was pretty limited.”

“Why does everyone think Chigiri and I are secretly dating?” you said, throwing your hands up in the air. “You’re not the first person to accuse me of it, and for some reason, I feel like you won’t be the last.”

“Don’t distract me when I’m on a roll!” she said, pointing her fork at you. “Anyways, it was bothering me for a while, but after last night and today, I was finally able to put it together.”

“You didn’t put shit together,” you said frantically. “May, you didn’t put anything together. Don’t say it.”

“I’ve never seen Nagi look at anyone the way he looked at you in that dress,” she said. “That was the first clue. From there, it all began to make sense. Why else would he come to dinner when he never agrees to such outings on any other occasion? What other reason could there be for your awkward relationship? You said that you hated him for a complicated reason. Well, this is definitely complicated! For one, you’ve been lying to everyone about the true nature of your feelings — that is to say, you are, or at some point were, in love with Seishiro Nagi!”

“I don’t like this bonding activity anymore,” you said. “Let’s do something else. Wanna play cards?”

“Wait, I’m actually right? I mean, of course I am, I’m always right,” she said. “I can’t believe it, though. How does that even make sense? You guys are total opposites.”

“Obviously we are. Don’t you think that there’s a reason it didn’t work out between the two of us?” you said. “You are right, as usual. When we were in high school, Nagi and I were together. The break up was mutually agreed upon and for both of our benefits. It was a long time ago, and in the grand scheme of things, largely inconsequential. Happy now?”

“If you were telling the truth, I would be,” she said. “Let me guess which part you were lying about…hm. I think that that relationship wasn’t inconsequential in the slightest.”

“When you’re in high school, every relationship feels earth-shattering and all-consuming. That doesn’t mean it is,” you said. “At the time, he was important to me.”

“And now he’s not?” she said.

“Now he can’t be,” you said. “I’m engaged. I’ve moved on, and so has he. He was the one to do so first, actually. I didn’t start dating Ryosuke until I realized that there was no point in looking backwards, not when the rest of the world will leave you behind if you get stuck like that.”

“What the fuck,” May said, holding her head in her hands as you continued to eat your dinner. You didn’t blame her for the dramatics; her entire view of your history had just been shifted, and not necessarily for the better. “Y/N. What the fuck. Kira was your second choice? I thought you were totally crazy about him!”

“First choice, second choice, does it matter?” you said. “He’s the one I’ll wed.”

“Do you wish it was Nagi instead?” she said.

“No,” you said. “He deserves better. He always has. Even back then, he deserved someone better than me. I’m glad I’m not marrying him.”

“Woah, woah, woah. That’s just about the opposite thing I was expecting you to say. He deserves better? He’s probably too lazy to even shower properly! If anyone deserves better, it’s you,” she said.

You took a sip of water to clear the thick feeling from your tongue. “It might seem that way, but to be frank, I’m a very hard person to love. Just ask my parents and Ryosuke if you don’t believe me. Nagi should be with someone who isn’t a pain, and though he never said so, I know I was always a hassle for him.”

“Why would you say something like that about yourself? You’re not hard to love,” she said. You exhaled, pushing your now-empty plate away and resting your chin in your hands.

“When I was a child, my parents only cared about one thing,” you said. “Whether I’d grow up to be beautiful enough to seduce the son of a rich man. Not whether he’d love me — love doesn’t matter, you see. People can fall in and out of love quite easily. Financial obligations, duty, the law…those are things you can rely on. Would I be beautiful enough to stand by a wealthy man’s side? To be worthy of bearing his children and binding him to me forever? They were obsessed with that question and its answer, and that obsession had its consequences.”

May was quiet for a moment as she took your words in. “I didn’t know that.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I didn’t tell you. I’ve only ever managed to tell one other person all of this,” you said.

“Reo?” she guessed. You laughed sadly.

“Reo? No, not him. I wish that I could, but he’s not the sort of person I can talk to about these types of issues. He has his own, more pressing problems,” you said. Understanding dawned on her face.

“Nagi,” she said. “You told Nagi.”

“I did,” you said. “He knows more about me than anyone in the entire world. The truth, since you’re so determined to figure it out, is that I loved him back then, May, though I should have known better. Love is never enough. You can’t save someone just by loving them, and neither can you change who they really are.”

May cocked her head. “Huh? Y/N, what do you mean by that? What…what really happened between the two of you? Because obviously, Reo had no clue what was going on, and I’ve only ever heard about your high school years from him.”

“What happened between the two of us? It was a series of mistakes, the biggest of which were allowing him to fall for me and falling for him in return,” you said. “It’s really hard to live a life without love once you’ve known it. I keep searching for it in places that it won’t ever exist, but deep in my heart, I’m aware that I’ll never be able to find it again, not in any way that lasts. Not in any way that resembles what I had during my last year in Japan, in those few months I spent with Seishiro Nagi.”

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mariyumemi @naatggeo @prettyarsxnist @noble-17 @rinitoshisgirl @stuckindreamland06 @little-miss-chaoss

#nagi x reader #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #nagi seishiro #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #peregrine #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[hillerska-official]

I'm fully obsessed with how willing some people are to take things at face value. I did some reading to find out the best star trek TOS novels and on so many of them (interestingly enough it's usually for the ones written by women, but I digress), people leave bad reviews specifically with the same complaint, time and again. "Spock is too emotional in this. Spock is purely logical you can't write him with emotions like this." And every time i read that complaint i am fully fucking flummoxed, because of COURSE Spock is emotional, what the hell are these people talking about. Spock is shown over and over again in the show to be a deeply emotional person. This is something he vehemently denies, granted, but it is obviously intended to be clear to the viewer that he is LYING when he denies having emotions. Jim and Bones have very specific Looks reserved for when he tells this lie.

There is a very specific reason Spock tells that particular lie, of course. A pretty emotion-based one at that. Spock has a very complicated relationship with his parents and with his human versus his Vulcan culture. Growing up on Vulcan of course Spock wanted to be less human, and be more like his peers. But the fact is that even Vulcans are not naturally emotionless/logical, and they actually have very specific historical reasons for so deeply valuing logic over emotion. So it is absolutely baffling to me to see people just take what Spock tells us about himself entirely as truth. Spock is a bitch and a liar (affectionate) and he is so deeply human in so many ways. That's why people enjoy his character in the first place, imo.

#i mentioned this to my dad #and i love my dad i mean no shade to him but the man is not an analytical person by any definition #he watches tv and its in one ear and out the other. the man is the antithesis of fandom #but anyways even that guy was like 'yeah obviously spock is emotional' #like if your take is so superficially face value that my father recognizes it as dumb? #what show did u even watch #ANYWAYS #i will be over here reading the price of the phoenix and thinking about when spock allows himself to put his guard down #not yr #star trek #star trek tos #spock #prince queuehelm

[bucks-babe]

Plastic

Summary: Bucky using a fleshlight for the first time

Warnings: Smut, toys(fleshlight, vibrator), dirty talk, watching porn, overuse of the word fucking, anal?, cum eating, degradation, use of the word bitch, slut and whore, surprise guest at the end

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I wrote this in like an hour so be warned. I’m kind of in the same headspace I was in when I wrote Be Mean to Me so this is quite dirty and a little mean. Anyway, you are responsible for your own media consumption. Any and all mistakes are my own. Huge thanks to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however any and all mistakes are again, my own. Bucky’s a loud, horny, little boy but he is so hot. THIS IS SOOOO HOT!🤭🤭

Bucky knows that he looks insane, standing by the door of his apartment with his ear pressed against it, listening for the footsteps of his delivery driver. He knows it’s coming soon, having his phone in his hand, obsessively checking the progress of his order. His cock, already hard and throbbing, twitches when he hears the elevator ding and he knows that it's his package. Bucky knows the sound of everyone’s steps on his floor.

As soon as the coast is clear, Bucky whips his door open and grabs his box, barely remembering to lock the door before sprinting up to his room, tearing the packaging open on the way. Flinging himself down on the bed, he moans at the sight of the fleshlight in his hand. “Oh, sweetheart, pussy’s so fucking pretty. Look at that pretty clit. Want me to rub it, huh? Make you cum around my cock?”

He tosses the toy to the side, quickly getting rid of all his clothes and grabbing the lube from his bedside stand along with the TV remote. Bucky silently thanks Sam for showing him how to use a smart TV. One of his favorite things about the 21st century had to be porn. He never had this type of porn back in his day. It would only be magazines of naked women, not that he was complaining, but watching people having sex was much hotter to him.

With the TV in his room and no one living with him, Bucky was able to watch porn in HD as loud as he wanted to, and fuck if he didn’t have the strongest orgasm of his life the first time. 

“That’s gonna be too bad, baby, because I’m fucking your ass today. Don’t give a shit if it hurts, you’re gonna take what I give you and let me fill that tight little hole up as much as I want.” He grabs the fleshlight again and pulls the silicon out, only to flip it to the other side where the fake asshole was before putting it back in its casing. 

Without thought he sticks his tongue in as far as he could, ignoring the plastic taste, and groaning at the tightness of it. “Fuck, you’re gonna choke my cock aren’t ya? Yeah, you are, bitch.” He grabs the remote and quickly gets to a porn website and logs in. “What should I watch, slut while I ruin your little ass?” He already knows exactly what video he was going to watch, there was no doubt about it. It’s the same video he’s been playing on repeat for weeks, never able to last the whole time.

The sight of the woman’s ass swallowing that huge cock sends him over the edge. Maybe it was because the man’s cock looked just like his, making it that much easier to imagine he was fucking her, making her hole gape. Her ass bouncing has him hypnotized, not able to comprehend how it was so perfect.

“Can’t wait to fuck that little hole. Leave you open and sore. Makes my dick so fucking hard.” Clicking the video and grabbing the lube, Bucky puts the tip of the bottle in the hole, squeezing until the slick was dripping out. He doesn’t wait for the intro to finish, quickly skipping past it and to his favorite part, moaning immediately when he clicks play and they’re fucking full force, both moaning, skin slapping, and ass jiggling. 

Bucky has to rewind the video to just before the man slides his cock in, wanting to imagine that he was the one fucking her. He spreads his legs out, feeling his sack hit the bed and another idea enters his brain. Rolling over he grabs the vibrator from the drawer before settling back into his spot, this time with the wand nestled under his balls. Turning it to high, Bucky grinds his sack down further, staring at the way they vibrate over the toy.

If he didn’t have as much control as he did, Bucky could have came just from that. He wants so bad to have her lay down on his bed while he straddles her face, smothering her with his sack, grinding and sliding his balls around face, listening to her choke on them, all while fucking into his toy, pounding, pouring load after load into it.

With that thought in his mind, Bucky lines the fake hole with his cock, the cold lube leaking onto his dick causes him to jerk, his tip grazing her hole. “Fuck, bitch, can’t even get the tip in. Don’t worry, I won’t stop. Don’t cry, you’ll get used to me fucking you whenever. Your little holes are gonna stretch and swallow my cock without problem eventually.”

He has to press to get his thick tip to pop it, and when it does Bucky loses his mind. “Ohhhh, fuccckkk. So fucking tight, shit, gonna make me nut already. So fucking wet, fucking made for me. Shitshitshit.” He has to use every bit of self control in his body to not shove the rest of his length inside, not wanting to blow just yet, not when he hasn’t even seen his girl swallow his dick in her ass while bouncing on his lap.

For just a moment, Bucky regrets placing the vibrator on his sack, but it feels too good to take off, now adding wiggles to his grind, moving the vibe all over his huge sack. “Ready for the rest of it, whore?  No? Well too fucking bad because I want it and I’ll fucking take it, bitch.” It takes him a minute to find the remote, pressing play and turning the volume up, fuck the neighbors. 

He groans in frustration when the people decide to take their good ol’ time getting to the fucking, but when he sees her squat over his lap Bucky feels his cock pulse in anticipation. Her perfect ass swallows his cock without hesitation, and Bucky follows. As soon as he gets past the tip, he slams the rest of his length in, frantically bucking his hips to meet the toy, head falling back and eyes shut.. The sound of his cries, the lube squelching and leaking down to his balls where they bounce between the base of the toy and the vibrator, all drown out the video playing.

“Ohfuckohfuck, so fucking good. Oh shit, ass so tight, cock fucking choking. Can’t. Shit, I, oh fuck.” Bucky’s mind becomes mush, only the carnal urge to fuck and fuck hard drive him. “Love this, love th, fuck! Bet it fucking hurts. Can’t do anything but get fucked. Does my big fat cock hurt? ‘S it tearing you open? Just meant to take this fat fucking dick. Don’t care, bitch. Don’t give a fuck that it hurts. Better get fucking used to it because I’m gonna keep you on my cock all the time.”

When he opens up his eyes, that’s when he truly starts to fuck. He’s almost positive that the bed is going to break any second, creaking and shaking with every thrust. He puts all of his strength into fucking up into the toy while both of his hands come down to help his brutal pounding. “Look at that fucking ass, oh my fuck. Take it, fucking take it. See, slut, told you. You fucking like that shit, fucking like being my cocksleave.”

His moans get higher in pitch, balls still slapping against the vibe with every thrust, practically being thrown around with the speed of his fucking. “‘M’gonna fucking nut. Gonna pour every fucking drop in you ass. Fuuuccckkk, wanna cum on it, watch it bounce while I keep fucking you. Gonna bust so fucking hard. When I’m fucking done you’re gonna be gaping so fucking much I’ll shove my sack inside. Uh, huh, you’ll fucking like that.”

He takes one hand off, searching for the remote that’s been bouncing all over the bed, and turns the volume up all the way, not able to hear over the cacophony of sound he was making. “Ohhhhh, shit, ready? Ready for this fucking nut? There’s so much fucking cum, oh fuck. So much, gonna blow. C’mon, keep bouncing that big ass on me. Don’t you fucking dare stop when I nut, you fucking hear me, bitch? You’re gonna milk every fucking drop from my sack. Gonna be more than one tonight. Have me so fucking horny.”

His thrusts become sloppy before he decides to just stop bucking and let his sack rest on the vibe and his hands take over the work. “Ohhhhh, fucking gonna blow, gonna nut. Ready, fucking ready? Bouncebouncebounce, just like that, just like that. FUCK, YES. GIVE ME IT. GIVE ME THAT FUCKING HOLE. TAKE THIS FUCKING NUT.”

The string of curses doesn’t slow down for minutes, his orgasm not abiding at all. “Fuck me! Leaking everywhere. All over the fucking bed. Cum’s filling you up so much can’t even handle it.” He keeps going until he’s almost too sensitive, pulling the fleshlight off wasting no time bringing it up to his mouth, swallowing mouthfulls of cum until it’s all gone. “So fucking good, but I’m not fucking done. Get over here, baby.”

Still laying on the bed, Bucky looks over to you, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m surprised you heard me over all that noise you were making.” Bucky just chuckles and lazily reaches an arm out for you, beckoning you over, which you happily do.

You take off all your clothes before joining him in bed, grabbing the fleshlight and licking the drops of cum he missed off, humming at the taste. “You know, you could have just called me over instead of watching our videos? I’m pretty sure we’re gonna get another noise complaint. The whole building probably heard you.”

Bucky rolls to his side. “Can’t help it, baby. You’re so fucking sexy and the way you take my cock. Can’t get off to anyone else, only my favorite pornstar.” He cuts himself off with a groan.

“I don’t know if it counts as being a pornstar if we only have sex with each other, Buck.”

“Of course it counts. Last time I checked, thousands of people come to watch us fuck each other dumb. Speaking of, we haven’t made a video in a while and I bet they would love to see you squirt on my dick, don’t you think?”

At your giggle, Bucky goes and sets the camera up, making sure not to show anything in the room that would give away who you both are, knowing that you would blur your faces when you go to edit. As much as he loved to hear how crazy men and women go over the two of you, Bucky didn’t want them to know your identities. 

“Sweetheart, you are so fucking beautiful, can’t even put it into words.”

“Don’t have to, show me, big guy because I’m dripping and I need a big cock to fill me up and my boyfriend's right here.” And Bucky’s going to do just that.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

[princessbrunette]

introducing… lord rafe! 🎀

comes with his very own gun and cocaine! pretty girls sold separately . ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

things were different since rafe took the reigns to tannyhill. you hadn’t seen anything like it in real life, only in tv shows and movies. the party house of kildare. a house where rafe was a god and everyone else bowed down. you were the fresh meat, just a girl who got swept up in it all when things began. the older more experienced kook girls had befriended you with a perverted and deranged look in their eye, promising you elite access to tannyhill and rafe’s seemingly endless bank account. you had nowhere else to go, you couldn’t say no.

it had all but progressed into near worship over the few weeks you were staying there. it was a blur of parties by night, and days spent in little to no clothes curled up to the eldest cameron’s side in a pile of other women that massaged him and pet you like a baby kitten. you’d smushed your cheek into his side, still drunk as the sun came up on his porch and asked if he was the king of the castle.

“more like lord of the manor type of shit, you know?” he’d smirked, peering down at you with his sunglasses still perched on his nose. it was from that day it began, all the girls — including yourself addressing rafe as the lord.

“yes, lord.” “yes, my lord.” “anything you want, lord cameron.” the other girls would pur — swanning around him like you were his playboy bunnies, but at the end of each day, if you weren’t his arm candy at a party it would be you speared on his cock — surrounded by the other girls. like mentioned, you were fresh meat. the other girls were happy to be accessories, walking around in bikinis to make the house look good but you — you were his star of the show. his favourite.

he lays against the pillows, sighing out shakily as you sink down on him. maybe the slight tremble was from the line of coke he’d done off your tits, maybe he’d just been craving the hot warm clamp of your cunt. a handful of girls — maybe 6 or 7, surround the two of you on the bed, like watching prey get devoured by its predator. moaning though no one touched them, sliding their hands over you and guiding your hips to ride him. the most established of the bunch appears at your ear, staring down at the way your cunt swallows him and whispers to you “thats it. keep pleasing him. you’re so perfect.” you couldn’t tell if they all wanted what you had, they didn’t show it, nor did they act out in jealousy — it was like it had been an elaborate plan to steal you into their clan all along.

people talked, and maybe you’d been a little reckless — rafe often choosing his moments to fuck you with the balcony doors wide open, giving anyone who passes by a direct view into the master bedroom where he takes you apart. you’d become desensitised, no stranger to asking ‘daddy’ to put a baby in you as other girls wandered in and out the room, sometimes staying to watch the show. it wasn’t often people dared to make commentary on the things they’d heard about the goings-on at tannyhill however — not wanting to lose access to the best parties on the island.

you still remember the way that drunk guy approached you all on the porch towards the end of the night at a party, interrupting rafe in the middle of his elaborate stories with you tucked up to his side, surrounded by some friends and the rest of the usual women.

“awesome party rafe. you gotta let me in on your secret.” he stumbles, and rafe’s eyes flutter in irritation at the interruption.

“yeah, no secret man. just a good place with good people.” he drawls, uncharacteristically humble before going on to continue with his story.

“i gotta ask though, is this some fucked up cult? i heard some crazy shit, bro. its a little weird, you know?” he continues on anyway, and you watch rafe stiffen, smiling disappearing into a tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek.

he pushes up slowly and you slide off his shoulder where you’d been resting, watching the man slowly wander towards the guy as he scratches at his cheek in thought.

you see him untuck something from his waistband as he approaches, and you don’t quite catch what it is — but as rafe looms over the stranger, pressing whatever it is to his lower abdomen and speaking in his ear, you’re guessing from the look on the guys face that it’s a gun.

“get the hell off my property and don’t come around here asking dumb shit again, a’ight?” he drawls out in a fairly quiet tone, but the atmosphere had fallen silent enough to hear a pin drop. the guy scurried away, never to be seen again — rafe saw to that.

you had never felt the urge to challenge rafe cameron, but now you were certain you’d stay submissive to him forever.

#i hate this sm i’m bashing my head against the wall #posting incase anyone wanted to see it . #kinda horror movie vibes ?? #rafe cameron prompt #lord!rafe

[emepe]

— Pairing: Yuuta x Reader, established relationship

— General info: 18+, one-shot, smut

— Summary: When it comes to Yuuta, “just the tip” is the start of a dangerous game.

— Content warnings: nsfw, unprotected vaginal sex, virginity loss, implied religious guilt, mild god complex if you squint, coercion, slight breeding kink.

— Notes: Honestly, I wrote this just to see if I could still write decent smut (and Yuuta fits the trope perfectly ugh, I can't lie). Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Happy reading! 

Links: Read on AO3 |  Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. You promised each other you would wait. But an innocent kiss on the cheek while watching TV led to a sloppy makeout session on the sofa, with your legs on either side of Yuuta's lap and your clothed cunt grinding needily onto his crotch as his fingers crept under your shirt and dug into your waist. 

A whine escapes your lips when he involuntarily thrusts his hips upwards, meeting you halfway, desperate for further friction.

“My God, Yuu,” you moan into his mouth, as your combined drool trickles down your chin.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, yet makes no effort to hold back. Because little by little, with every movement of your hips, his erection has become downright painful. It's practically throbbing in the confines of his jeans, swollen and red, aching to be let out, begging for relief.

But he promised.

It's a mental game to come down to his senses and draw an end when things get too heated between you. God knows you haven't one ounce of willpower when you're spiraling down a lustful haze. But he'd rather be the stronger one than risk the loss of your virtue ending in remorse. 

He loves you too much to force you to carry such an immense guilt. You vowed to wait until you were married and instead settled for a few steamy moments here and there — always sure you never made it too far.

You could hump and whine and he'd swallow every sweet sigh you pour into his mouth — as long as you never fully undressed and as long as he didn't ruin you by pushing himself between your legs. Then he'll wrap his arms around you, assuring you that whatever you did was still innocent, that you have no reason to feel guilty because you're both still pure. 

The vicious cycle never ends. 

You're incredibly precious to him — you're everything — but man, it really pisses him off sometimes that he has to be the one to protect a promise you were the first to suggest.

He brings a hand to collect your hair and nip at your neck, kissing it, tracing its slope with his tongue and sucking fervently at the supple skin. As if that's enough, as if it could compare to the glowing promise that being buried inside you represents. His cock twitches at the thought, the movement causing you to expel another string of holy affirmations.

His eyes land on the hand that grips at the fabric of his shirt as you whimper into his ear and the air thickens with the scent of spit, sweat, and desire.

The engagement ring on your finger has become a symbol of dread. So close to having you bound to him forever, and yet the time couldn't come fast enough.

His chest rises and falls dramatically with every shallow breath. It's all too much — the blood rushing south, the precum he can feel leaking from his tip and soiling his underwear, the line of sweat that transfers from your forehead to his as you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe against his mouth — it's all too good. 

But it's not enough.

He's tired of it, and you're not making things easier with your pathetic whimpers and your feverish body clinging to him. He can feel your pussy clenching around nothing through the layers of clothing dividing you. If he didn't know any better, he might’ve thought you wore a skirt on purpose to further drive him mad. He might be a patient man —loving, understanding, doting— but he's still a man.

“Just the tip,” he groans.

Your hips slow down as you struggle to comprehend what he just said, earning him a chance to will the cum threatening to spurt inside his jeans back.

“What?” you ask, tilting your head as you observe his blown pupils and his eyebrows upturned in desperate pleading.

“Just the tip, please.” 

Your lips part to draw a sharp breath as it dawns on you what he's asking for.

“But we promised,” you softly pronounce.

“It won't change anything if it's just the tip,” he promises. “It's barely anything. It'll be like the time you used your hand.”

He hopes your mind is too dizzy to comprehend that the two situations don't compare at all. 

Uncertainty casts over your features, but he can see a hint of consideration gleaming in your eyes at the idea. 

You'd be lying if you said you never considered loosening up on your convictions every now and then when you got so close to the act. But you didn't think you could handle disappointing Yuuta by breaking the promise you brought up in the first place. After all, he's so devoted to you and he promised to abide by your wishes no matter how long it took because the gratification when you finally joined in carnal pleasure would only make your commitment to each other all the more special. 

“As long as I get to be with you, the rest doesn't matter,” was what he said.

But now that he's looking up at you with such helpless eyes, like you're some sort of god he prays to, your morals take a toll.

His blue eyes stare adoringly into yours. 

“Please?” he asks again.

He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Please,” he insists, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, biting down just hard enough to cause a whisper of pain before alleviating the feeling with his tongue.

“Please, please, please, it hurts,” he whines, tears lining his lashes and threatening to spill as he reaches between you to palm himself over his jeans. “I can't take it anymore. I'm begging you, I need you, I love you.”

How could you possibly say no when he asks so nicely? 

You'd have to be made of stone to deny him the pleasure. You'd have to be a monster to not relieve him of his throbbing pain. You'd have to be the cruelest god to impose him with such inhumane punishment.

“Yuu,” you whisper, his pain reflecting on your face upon witnessing his desperation. 

“Please,” he sniffles.

“Okay.”

The word falls over him like a fresh breeze.

“Really? You mean it?” 

His lips curve into an eager smile, with butterflies fluttering in his stomach in anticipation.

You nod, happy to see his teary eyes light up.

“Just the tip.”

“Just the tip, I promise.”

He brushes away at his tears with the heel of his palm.

“You're an angel,” he murmurs as he cradles your face with one hand and starts guiding your hips over his erection again with the other. 

Soon enough, you're back to panting into each other's mouths, feverish and dizzy at your new promise to fulfill. 

Your hands fumble to undo his jeans, clumsily pulling down the zipper in fragments.

“Just the tip,” you huff, as he moans upon feeling your clammy hands palm him through his underwear.

You pull on his briefs just enough for his erection to spring free.

“Oh, god,” you exhale, in awe of the intense red that consumes the head of his cock. Precum oozes from the tip, balls heavy as if he's seconds away from bursting. It's no wonder he looked so pained. 

“Just the tip,” he reminds you kindly as he pets your hair, heart rate spiking when he watches your thumb trace over his leaking tip.

He flips you over so that you're pressed onto the sofa while he hovers over you and hooks his fingers around your pink cotton panties, tugging them down your hips with ease and tossing them onto the floor, leaving you in your skirt.

The sight of your bare cunt — already a sopping wet mess from everything that now counts as foreplay — makes his cock twitch.

With his weight balanced on one forearm, he carefully drags himself between your folds, the most sinful sound reaching your ears as he coats his length in your juices. His free hand cradles your face as he bends down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue pushes against yours, swallowing each of your moans as your hands lose themselves in his raven hair. 

With fingers trembling in excitement, he lets you go and starts lining himself to penetrate your insides.

“Yuu,” you gasp.

He watches in fascination as his reddened tip squeezes in and slowly disappears inside you, your cunt glistening with enough arousal that you barely feel any pain in the sudden stretch. In fact, Yuuta swears he can feel you suck him in the tiniest bit further as you flutter around the foreign member in your body. He can feel himself grow weaker as he's hit with the warmth and wetness of your insides. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, face dropping into the crook of your neck.

The overwhelming ecstasy of knowing he's connected to you burns at every inch of his skin as he scrambles to gather enough strength to pull out and push his tip back in again. 

You writhe under him, hands frantically pulling him in for a kiss. He complies. After all, you've gifted him with this — not that he wouldn't give in to your wishes otherwise. 

His brows furrow in concentration, eyes squeezed shut with the image of his tip swallowed by your insides flashing behind his eyelids. He pumps his head inside you — in and out, in and out — mesmerized by how good it feels even if it's barely a taste. 

It alleviates him… just a little.

He grips your hips with bruising force, rolling his hips further into you all at once, leaving a mildly burning sensation in its wake. 

A whine escapes your lips and your eyes close as you feel a tickle of his pubic hair brushing against your lower tummy. Your arms hook under his, bringing him close, scratching his back over his shirt.

An animalistic power washes over him, pushing him to penetrate the deepest part of you,  over and over again. His hand squeezes your face, demanding your attention and forcing you to meet his crazed gaze. His pupils are blown with lust, the gentle blue of his irises nearly gone. With the help of his thumb, he pries your mouth open, aggressively pushing his tongue against yours, relishing in the muffled cries of pleasure you release. 

The kiss is so needy, so aggressive, it's borderline painful and your jaw hurts from the tight grip of his hand. But it's still so fucking good.

When he pulls back, your eyes are lined with tears, much like his when he was begging to let you use just his tip minutes ago.

The sound of slapping skin echoes around you. Sloppy, wet, sinful.

“Yuuta, this doesn’t feel like just the tip,” you heave, feeling an unfamiliar knot tangling in your lower stomach. 

“It is, baby. I swear.”

You both know he's lying but you're too caught up in each other to care.

Your legs wrap around him, barely granting him enough space to move, but he doesn't care. This is better, this is what he needs to relieve the mild guilt that stems from lying to you, because this means you're just as thrilled by him ruining you as he is. And if you're so unwilling to ease your hold on him, he might as well kill two birds with one stone tonight and fill you to the brim with his cum.

The possibility of knocking you up has him reeling. A breathless laugh pushes past his lips as he looks down at you.

You're such a pretty mess and he's so in love. Your pussy does such a good job at sucking him in and he's so fucking drunk on it. 

The image of you sprawled below him, sweating and whining out his name will be burned into his memory forever. And you do have forever promised, he remembers. That ring on your finger — the very finger on the very hand that's creeping between your bodies to toy with your clit — stands as proof.

You perverted little thing, he thinks, as he feels you bucking your hips upward to meet his thrusts halfway.

“Yuuta, my god, oh my god!” you whimper as his strokes grow even sloppier and he grows even heavier on your body.

“Feel good, angel?” he taunts, using the nickname he imposed on you back before you became such a needy disaster.

An airy chuckle bubbles up his throat when you fervently nod and caress his cheek. He hooks an arm under your leg, pressing it further into your chest in a semi-mating press position. 

He carelessly thrusts his hips a few more times before he's washed over with a glorious relief that he pours inside you, marveling at the way your insides flutter around him, milking him dry with every wanton squeeze.

It's like you want to get knocked up, he thinks.

His hold on your leg loosens and his weight tumbles down on top of you as you work your way to clarity. 

He moves around on the limited space of the sofa so that you can snuggle into his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses soft kisses onto the crown of your head.

You can feel his cum leaking from your insides and seeping into the couch cushions, but it'll be a while before either of you care to clean up your mess.

His warm embrace coaxes you to sleep. As you're teetering the line of peaceful slumber, a familiar thought pops into your head.

“Yuuta,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“What we just did wasn't wrong, was it?”

He looks down at you, fingers lifting your chin so he can see your face. Your eyes are wide with worry. The duality with which you're able to confront these matters will forever be a mystery to him. 

His gaze softens and a smile graces his lips.

“Don't worry, angel. This was innocent.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It's pure love.”

Back to masterlist

#yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu smut #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuta smut #jjk smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer jealous with an artist!reader

・❥ You’re invited to a prestigious art show to impress Hell’s royalty with your skills, but someone isn’t a fan of all the attention on you.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

x: reader is g/n, no use of y/n.

~ 10.1k words

warnings: SMUT!! Adult themes!

Being in a relationship with the King of Hell has its perks. Such as being able to skip any line at LuLu World, or not needing to make reservations months in advance to the most high-end restaurant in Pentagram City. And, of course, being able to buy anything in the entirety of Hell in the snap of a finger, or, make it, if your man is feeling extra creative that day.

The neatest one? Being able to jump across the Seven Rings of Hell. Sinners are usually confined to the Pride Ring for the entirety of their afterlife, anyone who attempts to leave would get obliterated by the magical security system that detects ring-hoppers. You had never seen it work in person, but the stories made it sound excruciatingly painful. But, no one had ever survived getting vaporized to be able to tell of their experience, so, you weren’t sure whether that was true or not.

These thoughts were plaguing your mind as you sat comfortably in the back of a clean, white limo. Its tinted windows, gold rims, and apple hood ornament screamed ‘Hell’s royalty’ as some onlookers gave the pimped-out vehicle a double-take as it rolled through traffic.

You had tried to argue against taking the conspicuous mode of transportation, opting for the lift that was commonly used by demons to travel across the rings. You most likely wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention or suspicion, since you looked like an average, everyday demon residing in Hell.

“Hop in an elevator with Heaven knows what kind of creepy people you’ll be pushed up against? Not going to happen,” Lucifer shook his head sternly at the idea, “I’m not risking your safety just because 

You had held your tongue after that, realizing you weren’t going to win when it came to Lucifer’s protectiveness of your wellbeing. Besides, the limo looked nice as it waited patiently outside of the hotel a few hours after the big breakfast you had shared with the residents of the hotel.

The inside was nice too, the red, leather seats so plush you were practically sinking into the furniture as you sipped on an alcoholic beverage. There was a minibar nestled between some cushions across from you, bottles of expensive red wine secured on racks next to clean, empty drinking glasses. 

A large stereo sat at the back of the limo, with tall speakers that flickered with an array of colors waiting idly for your touch. A small TV hung from the car’s ceiling, and you flicked through the channels mindlessly as you held your phone to one ear.

“Just let the driver do his thing, you’ll barely feel the portal before poof! You’re in the Greed Ring.” Lucifer assured over the phone as the white limo sped towards the edge of the ring. 

“And I won’t get turned to goo or anything?” 

“Not on my watch!” He spoke confidently. You could hear faint voices in the background, which meant he must still be at the hotel. “Trust me, love, you’ll be fine. But, maybeee you wouldn’t be so nervous if you had someone with you like… the King of Hell?” 

Rolling your eyes, you snorted quietly trying to hold in a laugh. Lucifer had been bugging you all day about barring him from joining you, but you steeled yourself against his begging, some plans, and preparations needed to be done as soon as you got to Greed. Having Lucifer along would no doubt distract you, especially with the sultry gazes he’d been throwing at you quite often lately, and you needed to get your game on for tonight.

“I told you, I’ve got dinner plans with some of the other artists, and there's work to be done at the venue. Tonight is very important, I can’t mess anything up.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, you’ve got this in the bag, baby.”

Heat crept to your cheeks at his compliment, and you smiled out the windows of the limo, your eyes following the winding road toward a large tunnel in the distance. Was that the portal entrance? It was the only thing out here in this barren part of the ring, and it was only growing closer in view as the limo sped on.

Soon, you’d be in Greed, one more step towards the big art show tonight. Your mind drifted back to the matters at hand, your nerves intensifying as you sat deep in thought.

Tonight, was the annual art fair and exhibition, ‘Elysium in Hell’. A famous, grandeur display of well-known and talented artists coming together to sell and showcase their pieces. Their skills with the brush and oils would also be compared fiercely, judged by the leading in the practice that usually dictated how well an artist’s pieces sell during the night.

When hosting the most wealthy and powerful beings in Hell, one had to know whether someone’s creations were truly worth the large price tag. 

It had only ever been a dream, for you to even attend a gathering of such nobility. This was the kind of place you’d find the Seven Deadly Sins, like Lucifer, were strolling around places like these for fun. When to you, and other artists, it was the opportunity of a lifetime to make your passion a really good career. As in, spending the rest of your days lounging in your villa’s pool, finding your painting inspiration by looking out into the expanse of the ‘this view cost me a lot of goddamn money’ scenery. 

It was a chance to put your work out there, farther than the hotel, farther than Asmodeus’ club. Maybe, into a Goetia’s office, or a Sin’s bedroom! That was the dream, to have people appreciate and feast on your craft, while also making really good money from it.

It must have been Asmodeus who got your name on the list since he really seemed to enjoy your more explicit paintings. Lucifer also could have used his influence too, but you hoped that wasn't the case. You wanted your success to be based on your effort, not someone’s pretty words.

Would Lucifer even do that? After all, it was he who was more inclined to keep your relationship a secret. At least, secret to everyone outside of the hotel. It was hard to keep a secret from them, especially when the manager of the place was the man-you-were-courting’s daughter. 

It was something about the press down here being very brutal, and the fact you’d be in the public eye and under its scrutiny constantly. Unless, you become a shut-in hermit for the rest of your life, and while you enjoy the solitude, you don’t how long you could be stuck inside before growing depressed. Even a castle got boring after a while.

But the big problem, was you’d be a target instantly when it came to Heaven’s exterminations. You were a Sinner, and your life was at risk every time those gaping, golden portals opened to swallow the sky, and their blood-thirsty valkyries that would flood the streets with weapons made of holy light.

There was no doubt they would do whatever was necessary to destroy any kind of stability within Hell, and even direct attacks toward Lucifer and those he holds dear. Charlie? Well, she was Hellborn, safe from Heaven’s wrath unless they fancied all-out war. 

But, you? The exterminations were created to kill you, an agreement between Heaven and Hell’s King to quell the uprisings, to keep their control over all realms in Creation. Lucifer never had a reason to care about the population of Sinners inside his ring, until you arrived, with that soft smile and overflowing head of ideas.

If Heaven wanted your head, they would surely have it, if they dared to incur Lucifer’s wrath. He couldn't protect you from everything, no matter how many times he assured you. He wasn't the most powerful being in existence, there were those much greater. 

Was there more to it, though? Was it some kind of political reason because someone of the lower class could never be seen as one of the heads of the royal family, therefore the entirety of Hell as well? Would there be an uprising among the nobility, who couldn’t fathom someone without influence or power to have command over them?

So, for now, you’d spoil your king with kisses and soft words away from prying eyes. In the comfort of your room, surrounded by fond memories and heated exchanges of passion. Breakfast in bed, lounging the day away on your balcony, staring towards the city. 

Sometimes, Lucifer would enthrall you with tales from past interactions with other royalty, mainly the other Sins. He’d impersonate each, his voice almost perfectly mimicking their tones and speech patterns as he recounted stories that made you laugh so hard you almost tilted over the railing once.

Lucifer had spilled his wine trying to catch you as you leaned a little too far backward over the metal edge, his hands gripping your forearms as you adjusted for balance.

“This,” he had said with a breathless laugh as you stumbled into him, before the fallen angel wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush, “is why I can’t take my eyes off you anymore. There’s always a mortally wounding drop that you can’t seem to stay away from!”

You only giggled in response, your buzz making it impossible for you to give your lover a straight face as he tried to frown sternly at your reaction, only failing miserably when you lost balance again from the laughs that began to shake your figure. 

Lucifer began to lift you upright once more, a soft laugh escaping his lips as you only sent him a lopsided grin, leaning closer to him. It wasn't until his gaze lowered and he caught the tipped wine glass that had rolled against the leg of a chair, did the fallen angel deflated slightly.

“Look, you even made me spill my drink..” He whined, his eyes sullenly tracing the small river of red liquid that cascaded over the table’s edge.

You captured Lucifer’s lips in a sloppy kiss, your teeth grazing against his skin as you hummed an apology between trailing kisses. The King only melted into your hold as you filled him with sweet like ‘My silly duck’ and ‘The most handsome angel’. 

Your hands lifted to cup his cheeks, before breaking the kiss and sending him a loving smile. You squished his cheeks softly, and Lucifer only melted in your hand, nuzzling his cheek against your palm.

“Well, at least I’ll get some kind of buzz from the taste of your lips,” he sighed happily against your palm, flashing those pretty bedroom eyes at you as his claw slid beneath your undergarment, grazing against warm, bare flesh that caused you to shiver underneath his touch. 

Lacing your fingers with his, you sent him a sultry smile as you tugged him towards the open balcony doors, soft light basking the entrance to your room with light red hues as you crossed the threshold. 

Lucifer growled softly, his pupils dilating as he lifted a hand to begin unbuttoning his shirt, following you obediently into the darkness. The balcony doors shut behind him with invisible force, and wisps of golden light snaked out of the keyhole, before being blown away like dust. 

You smiled at the thoughts, your heart fluttering as those feelings bubbled up underneath your heated skin. This was the first time you had been away from him for a while, and it did feel much lonelier without his vibrant aurora that only filled your soul with warmth. 

Soon, you’d be back in his soothing embrace. But first, there was work and an audience to woo.

You had told him he could come later tonight after the show started, which had made him beam with happiness and promise to be there in support of you.

Would he appear as his common imp disguise? A Goetia? Would you even be able to tell it was him without those shades on his face? It seemed like you’d be playing I Spy later tonight.

“—will be there?”

You blinked, shaking your head to pull yourself back into reality. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, do you think any of these famous painters you studied all your life will be there? I mean, they couldn't have all been virtuous and sinless, right? I’m sure that one guy that cut his ear off wasn't stable enough to make it through the pearly gates.”

“Huh... I don't know, I never thought about that before.” You laughed, your eyes still on the tunnel that was now only a mile away, before Lucifer could start on another subject, you quickly broke the silence, “I’m about to go through the portal, I think. I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you later tonight.” 

“Oh, okay! Listen, don’t worry, it’ll feel like passing through any normal earthly tunnel… probably. I can't wait to see you, and hopefully, in that delicious outfit you bought earlier,” he teased.

“If the King commands it of me,” you replied with a honeyed tone, your words “but, he’ll have to be patient, can the mighty Lucifer Morningstar resist such taking a bite from the apple?”

“No matter how tempting, I’ll just wait until I can ravish it in its entirety later,” the soft growl in his voice made your breath hitch slightly, your cheeks heating at the thought of what ‘later’ would entail.

“We’ll see,” you whispered, before pulling the phone from your ear and ending the call. You felt giddy in your seat, that heat slowly ebbing from your skin as the tunnel loomed ahead. You grabbed the wine rack next to you for support as large shadows swept across the limo’s interior as it disappeared into the darkened path.

Lucifer was right, it had honestly felt just like you had driven through a regular old tunnel, if not for the tingling at the back of your neck and the feeling of weightlessness for only a moment as the limo’s tires hit solid ground once more.

Then, green skies cast emerald hues along the seats as you peeked out the window, excitement bubbling in you. You were in another ring for crying out loud! This was a first, and other than pictures, you had no idea what 

It wasn’t until your eyes adjusted to the change in hues, did the anticipation died immediately and a frown graced your features.

Greed looked… kind of ugly. Thick, green smog powered from large towards that dotted across the barren expanse. Large industrial buildings nestled between them, most likely some kind of plant or factory.

Rivers of sludge flowed from each facility into a large, concrete-lined lake. There was no doubt it smelled rancid out there, and your nose crinkled at the thought.

The large city that the limo was heading to was the least soaring to the eyes, its towering corporate buildings filled the sky. Flashing multicolored lights emanated from the middle of the sea of buildings, most likely party central of the capital.

As the vehicle rolled down the street, stopping at the streetlight, you were aware of the eyes that were trying to get a glimpse through the tinted windows. Some demons even pulled out their phones, snapping a quick picture of the pristine, white paint that shimmered underneath the street lamps. 

They probably thought it was someone important, like Lucifer, maybe even Charlie. Thankfully, discrete locations where you’d be dropped off and picked up had already been decided. Hopefully, you won’t have any run-ins with the paparazzi or anything crazy. 

You checked the time on the TV, you were just in time for check-in at the hotel you were booked at. It had been provided by the organization behind the large event, and you weren’t sure what to expect. 

As the limo pulled alongside a back street, you spotted an elevator a few feet from the curb. Taking another sip of your drink, you gathered your things and opened the large passenger door.

Stepping over the gap, you hoisted everything onto the sidewalk, fiddling with a few loose items before turning towards the long vehicle, shutting the passenger door, and leaning over to the driver’s side window.

“Thank you, Jeremy.” You called to the driver, a short imp with a bushy, white mustache. He only nodded at you through the shaded glass, before the limo began to pull away from the curb.

You turned towards the elevator doors, before taking a deep breath and stepping forward

After a few hours lounging around in your hotel room, the rest of your day was filled with preparations. 

You spent the early hours at a very fancy restaurant, surrounded by other artists. They all looked Hellborn, although you were sure you couldn’t have been the only one who got granted access from Pride. 

They all seemed relatively cheerful, sharing stories and techniques of their careers. You even shared some of your art with a couple of nice women that you were seated next to, the one that hung up at Ozzie’s. 

“I saw those the other day! That was you? You are such a great artist!” One gushed, while the other two nodded their head in silent agreement.

“That’s really kind of you, but, I’m not that good,” you brushed off her compliment, hoping to change the subject to someone other than you. You refrained from telling them where you worked, or anything about you, really. They may be kind to you, but in Hell, that didn't mean their motives were pure.

The tension in the air was a little thicker than you would have preferred to, but some of your “competitors” came from nothing, and would go home to nothing, if they weren’t able to make a large enough income after tonight.

Arriving not too long after at the large building that would host the show only heightened your anxiety, as your eyes bounced from booth to booth that was being set up with paintings, pottery, and other mediums.

The interior looked like a giant convention center, the walls a blank white with gold trim, a perfect backdrop for the splash of color that was beginning to take shape across the multiple displays.

The booths looked like large cubicles, with tall partition walls separating each artist’s collection. Only the front, which one would be able to walk into the little square to observe the different pieces, was wallless. As you moved to your spot, you turned your head to catch a glimpse at the surrounding work.

Every piece that caught your gaze looked so amazing, and that only made doubt creep farther into your mind at how good you fared against some of these big names. 

Most of the work was reminiscent of what you had done previously, back when you worked for Alexandre at his studio. Scenes of steamy interactions between two—sometimes up to five—lovers, angel exterminators with their chests gouged out, and landscapes of different locations across Hell.

You had expected it, and all of the pieces that you had brought with were from before your time at the hotel, or were painted with such thoughts in mind. The demons that had wallets to empty weren’t looking for cute scenes of bunnies and fawns, or angels in a good light, for that matter. 

You worked tirelessly, placing your canvases against the walls, creating price tags, and trying to finish everything before the event officially started. You were making good time, and your worry was pushed to the back of your mind as you kept busy.

Which made you lift your head from your work, your eyes scanning the small crowd of workers and artists that bustled about. Some ran across the large, white marble floor as they shouted commands to the helpers. 

Was he one of the imps who was helping set up the booths? You had no idea what he looked like in his disguise since he had altered it so only you could see through the lie. There was no familiar yellow gaze or rosy cheek spots that you could pick up from the mass.

He was either not here or was hiding from you. Your gaze flicked up the large clock, one more hour. You turned back to the task at hand, heart racing, and mind wandering as your hands lowered to another small canvas.

“Alright, people! We’re opening the doors, let's get this party started!” A voice rose above the chatter, signaling the beginning of the event. You lifted your head, it was starting already? Time really flew by. 

Demons rushed past your display, running to their own assigned section with renewed vigor as loud footsteps echoed from the front of the building. Looking down, you tidied your outfit, the one Lucifer had mentioned earlier.

You had bought it weeks ago, but only revealed it to him right before you left. In your eyes, it wasn’t much different than what you normally do, except that it was much more formal and eye-catching. And, red. Apple red.

You definitely didn't expect Lucifer to react when his pupils turned to slits when you gave him a peak, or how he subtly wet his lips from beside you, his gaze traveling up your figure as he seemed to be picturing you in it.

Patrons began to fill the floor, the large growing louder as demons filed in, their eyes glinting with interest and excitement. Bird heads poked out from the crowd, the Goetia’s tall frames towering above most of the other attendees. They were definitely dressed like nobility, in dazzling robes that brushed against the tile as they moved with grace from booth to booth. 

Their talons clicked rhythmically against the tile as they glided past your figure, their eyes landing on the portraits behind you were curious as some stopped before you.

Apart from the Seven Deadly Sins, they were directly beneath the Morningstar family, and were Lucifer’s most loyal followers. Did they miss their King’s presence in his absence? You figured most of them had yet to run into the fallen angel, even with his face slowly appearing across the realm. 

Smiling widely, you greeted a few of them, stepping aside so they could take a closer look at your pieces. They slid past you, and your eyes landed back onto the crowd, scanning for anyone who resembled Lucifer, to no avail. Where was he?

“I like this one,” one of the Goetia spoke softly to her lover, pointing at an oil canvas depicting your idea of the River of Styx, the famous trail of water from Greek mythology that flowed into the underworld.

A little girl sat at the edge of the dark water as it flowed past, as if she was looking into the depths with longing. Her hand was outstretched, reaching towards the writing forms of grey, ghostly bodies that peeked from below the water’s surface. They held their arms out to her, begging for help, or perhaps for her to join them. 

The girl was looking at a specific being underneath the surface, a mirrored image of her small figure, their face contorted in agony as it met her gaze. Tears pooled from the little girl's eyes as she stared at herself, one hand to her mouth in grief as she reached tenderly towards the sicky grey image that represented her inevitable fate.

The two birds stared at the price tag beneath the canvas, before their eyes met and the shorter male Goetia turned to you with a stack of cash in his hand. You practically bounced on your toes with happiness as you took the money with a bow of your head.

“Thank you! Please return later and someone will help you carry it out!” You waved farewell as they left, their gaze already locked onto some pottery sitting on display a few displays away. 

This continued few another hour, a repetition of demons moving in and out of your booth to fawn over your different pieces. Some would occasionally pull out their wallet to purchase from you,  while they complimented your craftmanship.

Even with everything going on around you, and answering any questions that were thrown your way, your eyes still kept gravitating to the bustling crowd. Your mind still sifting through every figure looking for any resemblance to Lucifer. He would have revealed himself to you by now, wouldn’t he?

He didn’t forget or anything… right?

After waving goodbye to another customer, you turned to see a red-headed demon sneaking past some patrons, before she reached your booth entrance, knocking softly on the thin walls. You turned, raising an eyebrow as she timidly stared up at you.

“Hi! I’m Anna… from the restaurant earlier. Do you remember me?”

You recognized her after a moment, and a smile bloomed on your lips. She was a quiet girl, her figure resembled that of a porcelain doll, her features painted onto the smooth surface that mimicked her skin. 

Anna had sat diagonal from your chair at the restaurant, barely making a peep, but her eyes had followed your conversation with interest. You hadn't tried to speak to her, afraid she’d crack from the attention. She seemed fine around the large crowd now, though.

“Yes, that’s right. Hello, how can I help you?”

“I was just wondering if you had any extra ‘Thank You’ stickers that I could have? I’m going running pretty low.” 

“Selling out quick, huh?”

“Ha-ha, sort of. My ceramics are pretty cheap though, definitely not close in value to something like your work.”

Heat crept onto your cheeks, and you smiled bashfully. Your skills were surely not that advanced to receive all this praise, it wasn't like you were some kind of prodigy back on Earth to deserve such kind words.

“Please, I’m sure your skills are equally matched. And, of course, let me go grab some for you!”

Turning, you reached into a box nestled against the wall a few feet away from you. You pulled out a small plastic bag full of smiley face stickers, before turning to face the young girl once more.

“Here, this should be enough, but if you need more you can always come back–”

Your sentence was interrupted when gasps erupted across the attendees, their eyes beelining to the front of the building. Even other artists and servants were getting a peek at the commotion as a crowd gathered at the main entrance.

Anna leaned outside of your display, her eyes squinted trying to get a look at what was going on. You stood next to her, straining your ears to catch any words from the whispers emanating from the onlookers.

‘Someone’s here.’

‘Could it be…?’

“Oh my Satan… it’s—!’

“Your Majesty!” A voice boomed above the crowd from a tall demon in a blue tuxedo squeezing through the guests, his little management pin sparkling gold as he moved to greet the newest arrival.

You tensed immediately, frozen in place, mouth agape, while Anna only became giddy beside you.

“Did you hear him?! I think the King is here!” She bounced excitedly beside you. 

“The King..?” You whispered in disbelief. 

“Y’know, Lucifer Morningstar? You’ve seen his royal portrait, haven’t you?”

‘Oh, I've seen much more than that,’ you wanted to reply.

Anna quickly scampered off, intent on getting a closer look at the grandiose figure as she moved through the murmuring nobles.

You could see his hat bobbing behind the much taller figures as he moved with grace, the hint of his white overcoat, and the red glint from the apple on top of his cane.

“Yep, it’s me! Your devilishly handsome King, come take a closer look if you don't believe me—woah there, not that close! Personal space still exists, thanks.” 

You watched the top of his white hat move amongst the bodies of gawking demons, as they parted to let him stroll through.

It wasn’t until he came into view, with that all-too-familiar charming smirk that made your knees wobble. With those soft curls that framed his face that shimmered like the sun, making your heart flutter.

His yellow gaze scanned the crowd, but he wasn’t able to take a very long look before the blue-suited demon approached closer, bowing low before he cleared his throat.

“It is truly an honor to be in your presence once again, Your Majesty.”

“Of course it is,” Lucifer replied nonchalantly, straightening his posture.

“We didn’t expect to see you here tonight! It’s been a long time since our gracious ruler has been to our event… but nobody had any problem with that!” The demon quickly interjected, laughing nervously as he pulled on his collar. 

“Yes, well, I've been very busy these past few years. Doing… important things, of course!” Lucifer nodded quickly, chuckling lightly as he spoke loudly, “So, I thought I’d drop by and take a look around!”

“What a wonderful idea!” The event coordinator clasped his hands together, before beckoning the fallen angel to walk along, “If you’ll please follow me, Your Highness, I can take you through everything we have to offer.”

Lucifer followed behind the man, all eyes on the floor tracking his every movement. Most lowered their heads in respect as he passed, the Goetia’s in attendance much more enthusiastic about it.

Quickly, you backpedal into your booth, your head whipping across the walls for any imperfections in your setup as your mind raced.

What was he doing here, as himself?! Why didn’t he tell you before, and what was his plan?

When Lucifer arrived at the first artist down the long line of make-shift walls, you could barely hear their conversations now that they’d stopped yelling so loudly

The artists bowed, their hands rubbing together in a soothing motion as they greeted their King. You heard the three chatterings lightly, as sweat beaded down your forehead in anticipation for him to get to you. Your booth was about five little cubicles down, he’d be at your ‘doorstep’ in no time.

Lucifer listened with only mild interest as each artist walked him through their different pieces. His gaze kept shooting away, looking for you, no doubt since you were busy hyping yourself in the corner. 

Assuming he didn’t walk up to you and go ‘Hi babe!’ he would most likely treat you like everyone else here, and you’d have to do your best to keep suspicion low. That was hard, when his close proximity always sent goosebumps rippling across your skin, or your demeanor to change instantly.

He just had that energy that warmed you to the core, and you always ended up stupid and giggly by the end of the night in his presence. Hopefully, the anxiety of being surrounded by so many people would keep you cool.

It wasn’t until you could hear him in the display right next to you, did you shuffled to the front, hands clasped in front of you with a wide, professional smile. The patrons buzzed around you, most of them still eyeing the King with interest and awe, but some began slowly dispersing as they continued their tour around the building. 

“And here, is one of our newest participants in the event. I believe they specialize in paintings of multiple forms, I’m sure you will enjoy their work, Your Majesty.”

You locked eyes with Lucifer just as he rounded the little corner to your booth, that charming smile only curving upward an inch as his gaze softened at the sight of you. 

He stood beside the event coordinator who turned to you expectantly, his eyebrows raised as he waited for.. something.

You stared at him for a moment, before your posture straightened with a grimace and you leaned forward in a bow. This time, you made sure to keep your hand tucked beside you when doing so.

Shit, this was supposed to be you meeting the King of Hell for the first time! Your relaxed posture probably looked pretty insolent to the coordinator, thankfully, Lucifer paid no mind to any misstep ettique.

“Your Majesty, it’s an honor to be graced in your presence,” you spoke sweetly, smile widening more awkwardly now.

“It sure is, my dear subject,” Lucifer modded in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips as his gaze rose from you to the walls behind your figure.

“Golly, is this your art?” He gasped, placing a hand on his heart as his eyes drank in the pieces hanging around you.

“Yes…” you replied slowly, quirking a brow at his dramatics.

“Boy, let me tell you, these paintings are absolutely exquisite!” Lucifer gave a chef’s kiss, a loud smacking noise as his lips left his fingers.

His eyes flicked to the small crowd that was still congregating around your display, as they listened to his words intently. The fallen angel met your gaze once more, and gave you a sly wink, your eyes widened at his gesture.

‘Don’t you dare..’ You growled through a glare right as you saw that mischievous glint sparkle in his eye, he only stared back at you defiantly, before that devilish smirk curved even higher.

“Are you sure you aren’t Leonardo Da’Vinci; one of the greatest, most famous artists from the Renaissance?” Lucifer continued, twisting his head a tiny bit to subtly address the staring demons behind him. 

The figures around you leaned in slightly, their eyes darting across your work with renewed interest as they listened to their King praise you with such grand words. Even the event coordinator lifted his head to get a better look at a painting, his gaze fixed intently as he practically breathed in the scene on the canvas.

“That is very generous of you, I’m sure you’ve seen much better in all of your years attending something like this.”

“Nope!” He replied confidently, and a few demons that were milling about stopped to get a look at your booth.

“Well, it seems like His Majesty is quite pleased with the display! Shall we see what the others have to offer as well?” The coordinator piped up, clapping his hands softly as he took control of the scene once more.

Lucifer turned with a large, exaggerated toothy grin on his face as he stared at the man with fake interest. He definitely didn't want to leave, but with so many eyes on him, expecting him to play the role he had so meticulously designed all his years in Hell, he could only begrudgingly oblige to follow the man out of your booth.

He turned his head slightly, shooting you an unreadable look as you watched him move on to the next booth.

It wasn't until you turned your attention away from Lucifer, did you caught a figure walking towards you, the man’s eyes trained on you as moved. He was about your height, muscles showing through the tight, green dress shirt that clung to his thick frame. 

He had blonde hair, but not as bright as Lucifer's, more of a dirty blonde with hints of a red undertone. He resembled a man enough, other than a few animalistic features like the sharp fangs, pointed ears, and the black goat horns sticking out of his forehead.

“Oh, hello!” You greeted, smiling at the new demon who strolled up to you, “Interested in purchasing something?”

“Actually, I’m one of the people that’s doing the judgments tonight, the name is Ezekial.” The man smiled confidently, lifting a hand towards you to shake. 

You shook it, your smile faltering on how sweaty this guy's palm was. When you tried to release your hand from his grip, he let his fingers linger against your skin before pulling away.

“Listen, I personally think your art is fantastic. Such care towards your work, honestly, elicits such emotions, like that one-–” 

Ezekiel pointed behind you, to another small painting of two people in a deep kiss, their lust obvious as the man practically ate at the woman’s face. You turned back to him with a quirked brow as he sidled closer, and you could see a small balding spot on his scalp as he lowered his head.

“—it really fills the room with the same kind of emotions, I’m sure even you feel that… passion looking at it right now, don’t you?”

Was he shooting your bedroom eyes right now? What a weirdo. It’s not like you could do anything about it, he was going to decide your fate tonight, and that meant keeping friendliness with the demon.

“You’re too kind,” you responded with a pleasant smile, taking a step backward, “but you’re one of the people judging tonight's event, I’m sure my work is incomparable when it comes to your own.”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Ezekiel puffed his chest slightly, sidling closer to you once more, as he began to fill you in on practically his entire life story. A tight smile crept onto your lips, and you fought not to roll your eyes.

For some reason, he also enlightened you on the multitude of women he had picked up during his career, including the two failed marriages. Did he think that was supposed to entice you to sleep with him or something?

As he droned on, your eyes peaked past his shoulder, and through the demons behind you, you caught sight of a familiar, porcelain figure staring intensely at you.

You almost burst out laughing at the deep frown on his features, as he watched Ezekial only get closer to you as he continued his conversation. His pupils were dilated, honed in on the judge’s back as if he was intent on smiting him right then and there.

The event coordinator was busy blabbing in his ear, other demons around him also trying to get his attention, but his attention was solely on you. 

Lucifer was jealous, no doubt. For some reason, that made you kinda giddy inside. The memory of what happened last time he got jealous played in your mind, the time you were thrust into a musical number before it ended in a hot make-out session.

You’ve been needy all day since speaking to him earlier in the morning, and that memory made you ache even more to feel his claws grazing up your thighs, his lips trailing down your stomach and–

Ezekiel only seemed to perk at your hot-and-bothered expression that seemed to seep through your placid smile, and his tone only deepened as he spoke to you. His arm above you, against the wall as he tried leaning seductively.

You felt the heat that was slowly building cool instantly at his demeanor. Did this guy realize he was standing around some of the most influential figures in high society? He didn’t think he was the top shit just because he was a judge, right?

When your gaze flicked back to Lucifer, his mouth was agape, eyes wide in horror as he watched the demon lean in towards you. Then, his face screwed up into a deadly frown, his hints of red peeking from his iris.

You quickly backpedaled away from Ezekial, turning abruptly right as another patron walked into your display, smiling widely in greeting. Ezekial only frowned at your sudden exit, before he was called away by another figure, irritation on his features.

You averted Lucifer’s gaze for a while, preoccupied with the larger number of demons coming up to speak to you about your paintings, their interest peaked ever since Lucifer’s little display of awe. You also noticed that your little cash pouch was continuing to bulge in size much faster than normal.

It wasn’t until your bladder began to knock on your insides did you realized how long you’d been standing there speaking with people. Your social battery was about to empty, your mouth was dry, and you really had to pee.

Excusing yourself, you crossed the floor, beelining for the short hall nestled in the back of the building. The restrooms were located there, and it was hidden from view and only accessible from two small entryways on either side. As you entered the darkened corridor, you breathed a sigh of relief, the harsh lights and the noisy atmosphere were finally drowned out by the thick wall

As you finished up in the bathroom, you splashed your face with cold water to drain some of the exhaustion from your features. You were definitely going to sleep good tonight.

Right as you exited the restroom and began moving down the hall, a tall, curvy woman brushed past you, you only were able to blink before she suddenly turned to face you with interest. She had a short, blue dress that showed all the cleavage. She sent you a sultry smirk as she looked up and down your figure.

“Hey, I know you, you’re that Leonardo Da’Vinci artist, right?

“Yes, I am,” you smiled respectively, holding in a sigh.

“Well, let me just say, I think you’re work is fucking stunning, babes,” she replied with a velvet tone, the top of her thighs beginning to peak slightly from her dress as she adjusted her posture, “and, the art definitely matches the artist.”

“Thanks,” you replied sheepishly, averting your gaze from her exposed skin. 

“If you ever want to recreate some of your.. erotic pieces, just give me a call, I’ll be around all night,” she purred with a wink.

“Hey, babe! You comin’ or what?” You heard a masculine voice growl from the hall’s entryway, the light illuminating from the building's overhead lights casting a thick shadow from his large figure.

“I’m coming!” The woman huffed, and she turned to you with a giggle, “I’ll see you around, cupcake.”

Your mouth was slightly agape as you watched her saunter off, your brain short-circuiting at everything that had been happening.

Groaning, you rubbed a hand roughly down your face as the rhythmic clicking of the woman’s heels faded away. How much more crazy could tonight get?

“What are you doing over here?”

You jumped at the voice, pivoting sharply to face the figure basked in shadows. It was the yellow eyes that gave Lucifer away, as he stalked forward with an unreadable expression.

Did he listen to everything? You tense for a moment, before furrowing your brows. What did it matter? It wasn’t you making any advances.

“No, what are you doing here?” You pointed an accusatory finger at him, and he frowned at your gesture, “Here I was thinking you’d be in some kind of disguise, hiding amongst the servants or something, but then you just show up and just start running things? What happened to ‘I can’t handle big crowds’?”

“This is totally different,” he shook his head, waving his hand in a brushing motion as he leaned against his cane, “These are my most loyal subjects, who used to see me all the time when I was much more involved. Not to mention, they have class and a decent amount of manners. What I don’t like is being surrounded by depraved animals that spend their nights coked up and catching all sorts of diseases tangling with random strangers.”

He shivered at the thought, sticking his tongue out in disgust at the thought and you only sighed in defeat. Your man had a point.

“Fine, but I told you I didn’t want you to influence anything that happened tonight. That is kind of hard when you’re hyping my work up like I’m Leonardo re-incarnated.”

“Hey, those were all genuine reactions! And, I did pretend to have no connection to you. But, that was a bad idea, apparently, with all the looks you were getting right in front of my fucking face.” Lucifer growled, his fingers clenching the apple on his cane tighter as his cold gaze flicked to the corner where that woman had disappeared.

“I was not getting any looks,” you crossed your arms, huffing in disbelief. He was acting as if the whole building was ogling you, when they were clearly ogling him. 

“You were! Some of those men were practically drooling all over you, not to mention how they kept scooting closer to you. I saw it all!” Lucifer averted his gaze, staring daggers at the wall. 

He wasn’t mad at you, but he definitely wanted to throttle someone. More specifically, every man whose gaze ate up your figure hungrily while you spoke to patrons. 

Thankfully, in the darkened corner of the building,  the two of you were hidden from prying eyes for just a moment, where he could have you all to himself even for a few minutes.

“Please, you’re just exaggerating, what makes me good to look at?” 

“Your outfit!” He replied quickly, his eyes tracing your figure hungrily as he explained with delight, “God, it really brings out your curves, especially with the way it hugs your waist. It makes your eyes pop too, and I just can't stop getting engrossed in them.”

He bit his lip, the sharp point of his teeth sticking out as he seemed to muster all his strength to keep from saying anything more. As if his words would only fuel the fire that was burning inside both of you right now.

“I look that good right now?” 

“If I could have you right here, I would,” he breathed, his eyes hungry with need as he stared at you longingly.

Your skin practically sizzled with heat, and your legs felt gooey as his words filled your stomach with butterflies. This man was just good with his words, always surprising with you how his lowered voice twisted your insides and made you think all kinds of nasty thoughts.

Not to mention, you've been waiting to have him all to yourself the entire day! Was it so bad if it was only a few feet away from a large room full of nobility from across all seven rings?

Your gaze darted to an open door behind him, could that be a private room? That thought made your heart flutter, and the need to press your lips against Lucifer’s even more uncontrollable.

“Okay, then do it,” those commanding words left your lips before your brain could process the words.

“W-what? You mean right now, seriously?” The king sputtered in disbelief, you had always been vocal about privatizing your sex life, but tonight, you were feeling a little… bold.

“Don’t be a pussy.” You spoke with a honeyed tone as you batted your eyelashes, swinging your hips as you brushed past him, your arm grazing his shoulder tenderly.

That tingle of energy made goosebumps erupt against your skin, and you felt Lucifer tense, his breath hitching as you moved by toward the doorway. He cleared his throat just as you crossed the dark threshold into what seemed like a storage closet. Boxes and other items were stacked against the wall, and a desk holding nothing but dust sat on the other side of the small room.

Lucifer exhaled a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding in, as he followed you into the dark, dusty room. Once he stepped inside, he set his cane by the door frame and his overcoat hit the floor, before he pushed the door close behind him, locking it just in case anyone were to enter in the middle of your session. 

You brushed the accumulated dust that was on the desk, not wanting to dirty your outfit so that you’d still have to show-off in afterward. 

Once cleaned, you sit yourself on the surface while keeping your gaze fixated on the fallen angel. You watched every one of his movements, your hand supporting the weight of your body leaning back on the desk. Lucifer could practically feel his heart about to jump out of his skin as he approached your awaiting figure, his lean arms snaking around your waist before placed his lips on yours in a hungry kiss.

You fold your arms around his neck to pull him closer, fingers interlocked with his soft, blonde hair that you adore. You caught a whiff of his usual shampoo, that crisp apple aroma making your head spin and heat bloom in your stomach. 

You deepened the kiss, hungry for more of him despite already being so intimate. His teeth grazed against your lips, a light tug on your soft skin as a plea for you to allow space for his tongue to enter.

Your lips parted with a soft mewl rolling off your tongue, a familiar wet muscle instantly pushed past your lips and into your mouth. Lucifer’s tongue collided with your own, drawing a groan from him as he pressed his hips against yours. 

His erect is so obvious from a mere brush of your hips, that it almost made you giggle against his lips. He groaned from the light friction, hips involuntarily rocking against yours to get more of it. You whined into the kiss, moving your legs to wrap around his waist, pressing him closer exactly where you want him to be. You felt his hand creep under your shirt, his fingers caressing your flushed skin under the fabric. His touch is gentle yet possessive, almost feeling like he’s marking you from his touch alone.

“So pretty,” He mumbled against your jaw after pulling away from your moist lips. His breath hot against your skin, he pressed a trail of kisses from your jaw down to your neck. Lucifer drew his tongue out and attacked the sensitive spot on your neck; that one spot that always makes your body shudder. 

He hummed against your damp skin, his teeth brutally abusing the spot by sinking deep into your skin. You moaned suddenly, fingers tugging on his hair which made his scalp burn. His hand that remained under your shirt traveled down to the waistband of your pants, cold fingers slipping through them in a teasing demeanor.

“You look so pretty in this outfit. Gonna keep ‘em on for me, hm?” His voice vibrated through your body and reached your core, clicking something inside of you. You nod eagerly, whispering a small ‘yes’ in response to his words. 

You heard a muffled praise from Lucifer before feeling him pull your pants down, pushing them until they hang on only one side of your leg. Your forehead rests on his shoulder, gaze fixated on where his hand hurriedly unbuckled his pants. Judging from how he fumbled at the zip, you can tell he has been waiting for this all day impatiently.

A whine spilled from your lips as he pressed the tip of his length at your entrance, circling it at the area to spread his pre-cum just in case he might hurt you. He’s sensitive; just from pushing the tip in, he has already let out a loud groan while leaning his forehead against your shoulder. Your breath hitched at the stretch, body twitching occasionally as he carried on pushing the rest in inch by delicious inch. 

Lucifer’s eyes screwed shut, enjoying every second of your warmth engulfing his erect that is now nicely nestled deep inside of you. Your nails clawed into him through his loose shirt, legs trembling while doing your best to adjust to his size. His tip is already pressed against that weak spot hidden inside of you, the sensation tightened the coil that formed in your stomach.

“G-gonna move, ‘kay? Tell if if you wanna stop.” He stumbled over his own words because of how good you felt, now moving his hips to thrust into you at a slow pace. You feel your walls burn, the pain bringing a sense of pleasure that coursed through your veins. Moans start spilling from your lips, your head growing into a blur as he gradually increases the pace of his thrusts.

He pushed you further onto the desk, allowing easier access to the sweet spot in you with his ferocious thrusts. His sharp teeth bite down on the flesh of your neck, lips attached to your skin as he sucked on the area continuously until dark spots bloomed. He repeated his actions, hickeys bloomed all over your exposed skin like flowers during the blooming season.

The fallen angel shows absolutely no mercy with his thrusts, fully projecting his jealousy into them instead of holding back. He rammed into you over and over again, the sound of your skin slapping echoing throughout the small room. 

“Mine, mineminemine. All mine, yeah? Nobody can fuck you this way except me.” He growled while holding you close, drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him every time he hit the spot.

“Fuck, doing so good just for me. You like it? Being fucked into a moaning mess?” 

All you could do was moan, nothing else. Words can hardly be formed in your mind let alone a proper sentence; your vision begins to turn white as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His grin grew at the sight of your drool rolling down from the corner of your lips, feeling a sense of pride bubbling in his chest. You’re in this state because of him, everything you’re feeling currently is all thanks to him. He twitched at the thought alone, a string of curses fell from his lips as his grip on you tightened. 

He mumbled something along the lines of ‘im close,’ or ‘gonna cum,’ into your shirt before lifting his head, crashing his lips onto yours once more in a hungry kiss. The kiss is sloppy; his tongue is unable to properly move with yours and the same goes for yours. He drinks up every one of your moans from the kiss, groaning from your sweet taste that he could never get enough of.

It only took a few of his hard thrusts until you clenched tightly around him with a sharp inhale of air, body trembled violently as you came undone. Lucifer quickly caught on with you, the tightness around him pushed him off the edge, hot strings of thick seed filling you up from the insides. 

He reduced his pace significantly, now rolling his hips lazily to ride out both of your orgasms. It took a full minute before he slowly pulled out of you, watching the white liquid oozing out of you in the surrounding darkness. You both lean against each other, chest heaving heavily as the both of you try to catch your breath. 

“Fuck,” you finally breathed, your face burying into his shoulder as the bliss subsided. How could a man make you come so undone in such a short amount of time? 

Lucifer placed a hot, wet kiss against your temple as the two of you slowly straightened. Your bare ass was still on the wooden desk’s surface, its cool touch welcoming to the heat still bubbling inside of you. 

Your thighs still ached as Lucifer adjusted the collar of his shirt, before he took a few steps towards an open box, piles of fabric nestled inside. Reaching in, he cleaned any stray dust from the small clothes surface, before handing it tenderly to you.

With an appreciative smile, you took it just as Lucifer walked over to grab his coat and cane. You cleaned yourself up as he straightened his bow tie, fixing his coat upon his shoulders. Before he turned to face your half-naked body as you began to change to look a bit more presentable.

“Are you sure you’re not an angel? ‘Cause those curves are otherworldly, baby,” Lucifer spoke softly as he strolled up to you. His drunken, half-lidded smile was evident on his face as his gaze traveled up your figure once more.

“Don’t you hear the stories?” You replied, honey dripping from your voice as your fingers reached his soft hair, grazing against his scalp as you pulled the strands back into his usual style, “How Lucifer was the most beautiful angel God ever made? How could I ever be similar to someone like you?”

“While I cannot argue with such a statement,” Lucifer laughed, staring adoringly at you as you fussed over his outfit, “If it were you in those paintings, instead of me, Michaelangelo would have been drooling.”

You smiled bashfully, pulling him closer for another deep kiss as you gripped his long collar. You could feel Lucifer’s smile against your skin as he peppered sloppy kisses down to your jaw, and goosebumps erupted across your skin.

Your hand clasped around his moving lips just as he was about to reach the crook of your neck, your mouth clamped shut to force down the moan in your throat as that heat in your abdomen returned slowly. 

“Please?” He whimpered against your palm.

“Later,” you replied sternly, before peeling yourself off of the fallen angel. Your arm brushed against his as you maneuvered to walk behind him. Your hand connected with his ass, and you felt him straighten before shooting you a playful glare.

“How do I look?” You asked, one hand on the room’s doorknob and the other gesturing to your figure

“Do you even need to ask? Perfect, as always.” Lucifer cooed, strolling up to you just as the door cracked open and you peeked your head.

The hallway was dark and empty, and with another quick scan, you slipped quietly into the corridor, Lucifer on your heels. 

“Well, I guess we should split up to not draw any suspicion. I’m sure everyone is wondering where you went.”

“They can wait,” Lucifer brushed your comment off, “You’re more important than these feet-kissers.”

You playfully hit him in the arm in scolding, and he grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the faint light as you began to walk towards the large doorway at one end of the long hall.

“I’ll see you later, mon amour!” He called after you, before you heard the sizzle of his magic as he no doubt teleported away back into the crowd. 

You sighed happily, adjusting your outfit once more as you crossed the threshold. The glaring lights cause you to squint your eyes as the volume in the room picks up, voices piling over one another until they become an inaudible mess in your head.

You only took a few steps before the dollish face of Anna appeared, a large smile on her face as she beelined for you. She was waving her arms excitedly in the air, trying to get your attention as she cut through the moving silhouettes.

She was moving so fast you thought she was going to ram into you, and you froze, tensing as she reached your figure. Her delicate hands curled around your forearms, shaking you slightly as she bounced in place. You stared wide-eyed at her eagerness.

“I’ve been looking for you, for like ever!” She finally squeaked, her smile only widening as she met your gaze.

“Why?” 

“Didn’t you hear?! You won!!” 

Your heart stopped, your breath hitching, as her words processed in your mind. You what? 

The loud voices were drowned out, replaced by your jumbled thoughts. Won what? The award for ‘Best in Show’, that little prestigious trophy that had sat patiently at the judge's table all night? That was impossible! There were so many better artists here, surely someone else deserved the spot! 

Yet, the way giddiness began to bubble up inside you, and your lips cracked into a wide, stupid grin at Anna’s words only made you a teensy bit thrilled to have taken the position instead of someone else. Was all your hard work finally paying off, was your creative voice finally going to be heard?

“I won..?” You weren’t sure whether to start crying with joy or run away and hide. 

“Yes!! I’m sure the judges are waiting for you so they can present the award, c'mon we have to go! Everybody is probably eager to congratulate you!” 

You felt Anna tugging at your arm, beckoning you to follow her across the room. Your eyes lifted into the crowd, before resting on that familiar, porcelain face that stared back at you.

His brows were raised, a smirk on his lips as he silently whispered ‘I told you so,’ through his gaze. He shot you two thumbs up, his eyes shining with pride. Not for him, but for you.

You sent him a warm smile, before his figure was obscured as another demon approached him. You turned your attention back to Anna, letting her lead you through the small groups of demons.

Your heart fluttered, that exhaustion that was ticking at the back of your mind fading as renewed vigor pushed your feet to move faster. And soon, you’d finally be alone once more with Lucifer, the most vibrant stroke on the canvas of your life.

As you walked, you passed by an elderly figure ambling across the room. You caught a brief glimpse of his features, enough for the recognization of the famous painter hit you in the face, making you almost halt in your tracks.

Was that Caravaggio?

sorry this was late :(!! i took an extra day or two to chillax and celebrated my bday, but i hope the word count made up for that!

and HUGE thanks to @silasours for writing the smut!! i was not feeling it this time but i really liked the idea and thankfully they swooped in to help! go check out their page if you want to see more hazbin works like that :)!!

also, i just realized i’ve written 100k words in less than 2 months?! like 😵‍💫 wowza that’s a lot! a whole ass book lmao

let me know your thoughts, have a wonderful day! 🦢

tag list 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @sukxma-archive @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @koumieru @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hellaverse #hazbin hotel x reader

[dollfacefantasy]

Rookiepillz: Here We Go Again

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: almost a year after the rookiepillz incident, you and your now-boyfriend play some video games together. he's got a special strategy to help you win.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief cockwarming, daddy kink, rookiepillz

word count: 1.8k

a/n: finally. rookiepillz has come back to tumblr. the most anticipated come back of the century in my book. i just needed something silly as a break from school. we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming momentarily. part 1 is here.

“ANOTHER GOJO!” you yell at your tv, flinging your controller to the other side of your couch. You feign a growl and look up at your boyfriend who’s lap you were laid up on. “Another fucking Gojo killed me. Can you believe this? It’s like a curse or something.”

He chuckles right next to your ear and kisses your temple. “You’ll get the win soon. You placed third that time, that’s not bad,” he tells you as you ready up again.

He was one to talk considering he planned and acted out a whole revenge scheme on you when he placed second. But hey, look at the two of you now. Snuggling on the couch, you wearing one of his shirts, playing video games in his lap while he gives you little smooches and whispers sweet nothings to you.

Sure, he used to be your stepdad, but he’s your man now. Sure, he dated your mom just to get back at you for beating him in a Fortnite match, but he also gave you the best dick of your life. And plus, he was pretty sweet when he wasn’t being a total asshole, so who are you to complain?

His arms squeeze around your waist, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, inhaling your scent as you beat on some innocent player in the lobby for having the default skin. He smiled as he watched your eyes light up with glee. He took in every word you said about how dropping at the pool house was the best strategy. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Yeah, he had fucked your mom as part of a long revenge plot over losing a victory royale. Yeah, he did humiliate you by spanking you and then revealing said revenge plot in the middle of fucking. But it’s only cause he knew you’d be his girl in the end. He was just having some fun with his sweetheart, right?

He half-watches you running around the map, giggling when you drive a car off a cliff or start doing the weeknd emote. A smile breaks across his face whenever you kill someone because you lightly tap his forearm and go “Look! Did you see that? I gottem.” And then he’d whisper to you, “mhm, that’s my girl” before planting another kiss on your cheekbone.

But what really got him going wasn’t the precious moments of joy or the sweet expressions of tension when you started losing health. No. What really fired him up was your rage. What could he say? It reminded him of nearly a year ago when he’d pulled you over his knee, the fire that had burned in your eyes. A day he’d never forget. 

All he had to do was be patient for your match to start winding down. Once that notification came up that said there were only 25 people left, that red monster inside you would start rearing its head. The “motherfucker’s” and “god damn it’s” would start flying, and in no time at all, you’d be wearing that adorable pouty expression.

Like right now. He watched your character explode into a pile of loot. You slammed the controller down on your laps and crossed your arms, sinking back into his embrace. “That’s such bullshit. At least it wasn’t Gojo again,” you grumble.

Fuck, it got him hard.

“I think I know your problem, baby,” he says. 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow. The one piece of certain leverage you had over your boyfriend was that you were a better Fortnite player. Whenever he gave you unsolicited advice on your playing, you made sure to bring up the fact that you had beaten him before.

“You’re getting so frustrated, y’know. I think you gotta calm down a bit. Let yourself relax so you can think and focus better. And I think I have a way you can do that,” he says.

“And what would that be?” you ask, tone growing softer as you start to catch on.

“How about you relax on daddy’s cock? I know you can only think straight once you’ve been filled up,” he purrs. His hands smooth up your stomach to your tits, coasting over your nipples that were already starting to harden out of instinct. Because if there was one guaranteed piece of leverage he had on you, it was that special word that you’d seemed so averse to just a few months ago.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you answer. It felt shameful that he could get a rush of arousal from you with just a simple word said in a particular tone.

You stand up, still working the controller as another match starts up. He tugs down your shorts for you, grinning like the madman he was at your lack of panties.

“Look at you all prepared,” he coos and kisses your hip, “You knew you’d be getting a treat from daddy today, hm?”

“Lucky guess,” you respond as he guides you back down. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs. He lines himself with your entrance and pulls you down until he’s bottomed out. You whimper and bite your lip, locking your eyes on the tv to focus.

For the beginning, he really does just let you sit there, nice and full. And maybe he was sort of right. You feel pretty calm so far. Everything is less stressful when, in the back of your mind, you’re noticing the way he twitches within you or the small grunts he lets out when you tighten around him.

You were so warm and tight. Felt just as good as the first time, and fortunately for you, there was no bombshell plot twist waiting around the corner. His fingers rub little circles on the outside of your thigh.

“What do you think? Is it helping, babydoll?” he asks.

“Mhm, thank you, daddy. Fits just right,” you say.

He chuckles at the cute way you say it. You work on sniping some people, he tests out rolling his hips. You sharply inhale but don’t protest. So he does it again. His cock slides through the warm embrace of your walls, kissing your favorite spots deep inside. You still seemed focused enough, so using his hands to hold you in position, he begins thrusting upwards.

Your breaths become longer and shakier, but you will yourself to maintain focus. The number of players was dwindling fast. He was bouncing you on his cock which normally left you empty-headed in seconds. But you needed this victory royale. You really were his girl.

He lets out a groan, leaning back against the couch cushions with his head tilted back. It wasn’t like he needed the win this time. He could let go. And so he did. He pistons his cock up into you faster by the moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Daddy there’s only two other people,” you whine in a plea for mercy.

“Almost there, baby,” he grunts. You honestly didn’t know if he was referring to your game or how close he was to cumming.

You don’t have time to think about that though because the circle is closing. You grit your teeth and grip the controller with all the focus you have left.

“Daddy, c’mon, I could win,” you whimper.

“I know, princess. You got this, pretty girl,” he mumbles while his eyes flutter. His abdomen twitches as he feels himself gearing up for release. “Tell you what. If you win this one, daddy’ll make sure you get a special reward later on.”

Now it is absolutely on. You can’t lose this. That’d be even more humiliating than the original rookiepillz incident. You’re dashing around the map as your boyfriend pumps in and out of you. It’s a difficult task, managing to hold off your release and try to win.

But soon enough you spot your targets. At the same time, it seems that Leon is reaching his. “Oh fuck, baby. So fuckin’ good. Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like,” he whimpers from behind you.

He bounces you, and you know your own peak is imminent. But you see the other players, and in an absolute miracle, you down one and then the other. The tv flashes gold with your victory as your body seizes with the white hot pleasure of release. Simultaneously, he unloads inside you, firing rope after rope into your tight cunt.

He fucks into you a few more times before actually coming back down to reality. You’re coming down too, melting back against his chest. He’s stroking your face when his eyes catch on the tv.

“Holy shit, you actually won?” he asks. His tone gives away that he’s actually impressed. and that’s your ultimate victory royale.

“Mhm, all for you,” you tease and lazily kiss his cheek.

“God, baby. Making me feel like the luckiest man alive right now,” he replies and reciprocates your small gesture of affection.

The two of you cuddle for a bit longer. You’re finished with the game, having finally gotten the win you wanted. And like always, he was such a sweetheart after, giving you kisses and praise, holding you close, even cleaning you up once he got up. Unfortunately, he had to go into work today, so it wasn’t long until he had to leave. He makes sure you’re content before he says goodbye with a kiss to your forehead.

Later that night though, you were alone at your place just as Leon was at his. You get a text. His contact lights up your lockscreen with the message “Get on Fortnite?”

You smile, hopping on your couch and turning on your console. You text back a “yeah hehe :)” He facetimes you, and you beam when you see his face, something you would have never thought possible when you met him. While you wait for everything to turn on and connect, you ask him about his day and how he’s feeling. He answers softly, heart melting at your interest.

To your surprise, when the game finally loads up, you have a gift. From rookiepillz himself.

“Leon…” you say excitedly.

“What?” he asks, playing dumb at first, “Just open it.”

So you do. You burst into laughter as Gojo appears on your screen next. “You’re so funny. I love you,” you giggle. It slips out so casually, he’s not even sure you registered what you’d let slip. He lets it go for now. He would tease you about it later. Right now, he was just so enamored with you.

As you prattled on about wanting to be the skin with the blindfold on and how he should get one for himself so you could match, he realized something. He’d lose every Fortnite match for the rest of his life if it meant he got you. His own personal victory royale.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #smut

[ramblers-lets-get-ramblin]

Team Spirit- Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+

Summary: When you go to an Eagles bar to watch the football game, the last thing you expect is to get railed in the bathroom by a Cowboys fan.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: drinking, unspecified age gap, unprotected PIV, creampie, (kinda?) public sex, tommy miller is a fucking menace to society, football references.

Immersability: reader is able-bodied and can be lifted/picked up

Author's Note: i am a sportsball girlie at heart and i wrote this for all my other sportsball babes. just some silly PWP. Enjoy!

shoutout to my love @dancingtotuyo and my wife @wannab-urs for beta reading and the amazing comments they left in my google doc!

“Do I really gotta do this?” Joel asks his brother. 

“Shouldn’t have let your mouth write a check your ass couldn’t cash.” Tommy laughs. “At least you get a new jersey out of the deal, right?” he shoves the bag into Joel’s hands and laughs. 

“Yeah. Right.” Joel deadpans. He opens the bag and pulls out the silver and navy jersey. “PRESCOTT” reads the back in white letters with a number 4 underneath. He should have known better than to take a bet with Tommy. He prefers to give the terms after he’s already won, doing his damndest to stick his older brother in the most uncomfortable positions possible. He also should have known better to bet on the Rangers, given the season they were having. Besides, everyone knows the Astros are cheaters. Now he’s gotta wear this Cowboys jersey to go watch the Dallas vs Philadelphia game. At an Eagles bar. While wearing a Cowboys jersey. Joel sighs and trudges up the stairs to get ready. 

By the time the Uber pulls up Joel is dreading this evening. The bitter rivalry between the Dallas Cowboys and The Philadelphia Eagles, and their fans, goes back decades, generations. Shove a bunch of people into a small space and fill them with beer, well, you’re just asking for trouble. Add a football rivalry on top of it and the odds go up even more. 

“We don’t have to stay the whole time, right?” Joel asks. 

“‘Course we do, Joel. We can’t let those Eagles fans think they ran us off, can we?” Tommy replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He almost seems like he’s hoping for some trouble. “Besides, Sarah is at Mom’s all night. Maybe we can find some girls to go home with.” he laughs. 

“In an Eagles bar?” Joel scoffs. “Not likely, little brother.” he claps Tommy on the shoulder and laughs. 

~~~~~

You step out of the Uber calling a “Thank you!” over your shoulder to the driver. You walk past the entrance to The Bee’s Knees, and climb the stairs to its sister bar, The Cat’s Pajamas. The tiki decor of the rooftop bar that once caught you off guard now welcomes you like an old friend. A set of jet skis sit in one corner, next the bathrooms. On the opposite side of the bathrooms is a large screen that the games are projected on . The bar is an enclosed square in the middle, complete with a fake grass roof. Two sides are furnished with stools, one is open for customers to line up. The fourth side, the one directly in front of the projection screen, the stools have been replaced with five large, wooden swings. They hang from the roof with rope handles. As you well know, after a few drinks those things can be dangerous. 

As you survey the room, looking for your friends, a man sitting at one of the picnic tables along the back wall catches your eye. He’s older than you, by about fifteen years you guess. He’s wearing jeans and a denim jacket, zipped all the way up. His patchy beard is graying and his brown hair is just starting to curl around his ears and the nape of his neck. His eyes flick from one of the many tv screens to yours and back again. Then, he looks towards you again, holding your gaze this time. One side of his mouth turns up in a smile, albeit a shy one. The hint of a dimple appears on his cheek. You return the smile but your view of him becomes obstructed by another man. He’s younger and his jet black hair is long and curly. He sets a tallboy of Lone Star down in front of the first man. You aren’t sure if they exchange words but the younger man turns to look at you over his shoulder and gives you a grin, displaying his perfect pearly whites. 

You feel a little nervous so you continue in your quest to find your friends. By the time you’ve made the rounds, saying hello to all the regulars, your friends still haven’t arrived. You sit on a barstool near the end of the bar. The opposite end from where the handsome man and his companion are. You glance towards his table once more and find that his gaze had returned to the tv. Kickoff is in five so you give your drink order to the bartender and pull out your phone. You have several unread texts, all from your friends. “Shit.” you say under your breath. None of them are going to make it. Oh well, you think. You’re already here and there isn’t a place in downtown Austin where you feel safer. You aren’t super close with anyone here, but you know quite a few of them well enough to feel comfortable staying here alone. 

The bartender slides you your own Lone Star just as the game starts. The Cowboys are receiving first and the Eagles defense holds them off. After three downs and only twenty yards gained, they punt the ball to the Eagles. By the end of the first quarter, you’re on your second beer and the score remains tied at zero. You drain the can and raise it in the bartender’s direction. “Another, please!” you call down to him. 

“Put it on my tab.” you hear from beside you. You turn and see the handsome man from earlier. He’s holding up two fingers to the bartender. “Plus another round for me and my brother.” he turns and smiles at you. A real one this time. His eyes are a deep brown and the skin crinkles at the corners. His lips are full and topped with a plush mustache. 

“Thank you.” you offer him a smile of your own in return. 

“I’m Joel.” he says, handing you your beer. 

You take the can from him and he smiles again when you tell him your name. 

“Nice to meet you. Mind if I sit here?” he asks, pointing at the stool in front of him. 

“Not at all.” you say with a shake of your head. 

“Let me go drop this beer off to my brother. Be right back.” 

He struts over to the picnic table, he appears to hold his head just a little higher now. When he sets the beer down in front of the other man, and cocks his head in your direction. Two two men exchange a few words and when Joel’s brother looks in your direction, you drop your eyes down to your phone. They’re too far away for you to hear what they are talking about anyways. After a moment, Joel returns, leaving one stool empty between you as he sits on the next one. 

You place your phone on the bar and when you look back over to him, your eyes feel like they might bug out of your skull. Is he fucking serious? You wonder and your mouth gapes open. He took off his jacket and left it at his table. He’s sitting there in a Cowboys jersey. 

“You’re brave for wearing that thing here, ya know?” you say, tilting your beer can in the direction of his jersey. He laughs and raises his own can to his mouth. He swallows with a few loud gulps and you can’t help but be mesmerized at the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down with each swallow. You find yourself wondering what the deep hollow of his throat might feel like under your tongue. 

“I lost a bet.” he replies, setting his beer down on the bar and nodding his head towards his brother. “You look a little disappointed.” he says with a soft chuckle. 

“I am.” you reply bluntly. “I was just starting to think you were cool.” he looks a little disappointed himself until you curl your lips into a smirk. 

“Would you still be willing to let me watch the game with you?” he asks, leaning his shoulder a little closer to you. 

“Sure! As long as you don’t get any closer. Wouldn’t want any of my friends to think I was fraternizing with the enemy.” 

He raises his eyebrows and something mischievous flashes in his eyes. “Is that what we’re doin’?” he asks. “Fraternizing?”

“Game’s back on.” you say, avoiding the question. You turn back towards the tv and turn your beer nervously. 

“Mmhmm.” Joel replies, returning his attention to the game. You see the smile return to his face from the corner of your eye and feel a little flutter, low in your belly. 

~~~~~

“FLY, EAGLES, FLY

ON THE ROAD TO VICTORY.

FIGHT, EAGLES, FIGHT

SCORE A TOUCHDOWN 1-2-3

1-2-3

HIT ‘EM LOW

HIT ‘EM HIGH

AND WATCH OUR EAGLES FLY

FLY, EAGLES, FLY 

ON THE ROAD TO VICTORY 

E-A-G-L-E-S

EAGLES!” 

Joel groans in his seat as the bar breaks out in yet another round of the Eagles’ fight song. The one you all sing after a Philly touchdown. He excuses himself to the bathroom at halftime and when he returns, He takes the stool right next to you. You don’t miss the dirty looks he, and now you, are getting from the ever rowdy crowd. You get to know each other better during halftime. Joel tells you about his daughters, Sarah and Ellie, who are away at college, and the construction business that he owns with his brother. Tommy has had no trouble  chatting up all the ladies, even in his own Cowboys jersey. You’re pretty sure the tight fit was a conscious choice, same as his jeans. You tell Joel about your own job and family, and what it’s been like growing up an Eagles fan in Texas. You were wrong about his age. He’s even older than you thought. But, damn, he looks good for his age. 

You both switch to water when the second half commences. It’s Monday night after all. Joel’s enthusiasm for the game starts to sour at the end of the third quarter, with the Eagles winning 42-7. He finds it hard to keep his attention on the screen at all, in fact. He’s much more interested in you. Your own interest grows by the second. He’s charming and handsome, sure. But what really gets you is the way he beams with pride when he talks about his daughters. 

The bar erupts in cheers when the Eagles force yet another turnover. With less than two minutes remaining in the game, Jalen Hurts takes a knee. He repeats the action twice more, running the clock down to under forty seconds. Joel lets out another groan and buries his head in his hands on the bar. Suddenly, an idea strikes you. 

“C’mon.” you say, grabbing his hand and dragging him off the stool. 

“Where are we goin’?” he asks curiously. But he follows along, gripping your hand even tighter. 

His rough palm engulfs yours and you lead him to the far corner of the bar where the employee bathroom is hidden. 

“What are you doin’?” he asks when you haul him into the bathroom and click the lock behind you. 

“Givng you a consolation prize.” you say slyly. “Unless you don't want it.” you tease. 

Joel picks you up and spins you around. He presses your back against the door and your legs circle his trim waist. Your skirt rides up and you can feel the soft swell of his stomach against your clothed core. “I’ve been thinkin’ about doin’ this all night.” he says. 

“Well go on then, Cowboy. Do it.” you urge. 

Joel’s lips crash against yours and he grabs the meat of your ass through your skirt. He moans into your mouth when you gently tug on the curls at the nape of his neck. He grips you tighter and spins you both around. The bathroom is small so he only has to take two steps before he’s setting you down on the counter, never moving his mouth from yours. When you finally separate to catch your breath, you are both panting. Neither of you have any desire to take things slow. You pull Joel’s jersey over his head and he catches it right before you drop it on the floor. 

“Let’s not be naughty, huh?” he teases and drops it onto the counter beside you. He grabs a knee in each hand and spreads them wide. He drops to his knees and runs his hands up the insides of your thighs. The work-worn, rough skin of his palms catches on the thin fabric of your fishnets. His hands disappear beneath the hem of your skirt and his thumbs stroke the creases of your thighs. The heat from his skin is so close, but not close enough. Your hips buck of their own accord, your pussy aching for some attention. Joel moves his thumb to your covered mound, searching for your clit through the layers. “This where you want me, darlin’?” he asks, pressing against the lace of your underwear, the cute ones you almost didn’t wear. 

He tsks when you nod in response. “C’mon now, baby. You had plenty to say earlier, all that trash talk. Use your words.” he instructs. You open your mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a whine. Joel snatches his hand away, resting it just above your knee. “Words.” 

“Yes, please. That’s where I want you.” you pant. Desire courses through your entire body. The flame he stoked with just a few strokes of his hand burning low in your belly. 

“Good girl.” he says softly, looking up at you from where he kneels. He pulls your skirt the rest of the way up and the countertop stings your skin cold. He hooks his fingers in the crotch of your fishnets and rips. He tears them all the way up, so they are only held together by the elastic band at your waist. He taps his fingers against your hips as he grabs the sides of your lace panties. You hold on to his shoulders and raise up off the counter, allowing him to drag your underwear down your legs. He pulls them over the toes of your clunky boots, one at a time and slips the black scrap into his back pocket. 

His knees crack as he stands and moves between your legs. One hand rests on the back of your neck, tilting your head up towards his. With the other, he drags his finger up the seam of your cunt, separating the slick folds, making room for himself. When he leans down, you think he’s going to kiss you, but he surprises you by bringing his mouth to your ear. 

“I’d give anything to be able to take my time with you.” he whispers. The heat of his breath causes a shiver to run up your spine. “To lay you down on my bed. Take you apart with my hands, my tongue.” he dips a finger inside you, but just barely. He gathers the slick forming there and drags it up. “And then split you open on my cock, again and again.” your breath catches in your throat when he begins to circle your clit. “Until you’re beggin’ me to stop.”

He pulls away from your ear and catches your bottom lip in his teeth. At the same time he slips his middle finger into you. You arch your body into his and he continues rubbing circles over your clit. 

“Fuck, Joel.” you whine. “I’m so close, baby.” he curls his finger inside of you and picks up the pace with his thumb.

“C’mon, darlin’.” he urges. “Come for me.” and when he attaches his lips to your pulse point, you do. You bury your face into his chest, sinking your teeth into the flesh to muffle the sounds of your pleasure. Joel moans loudly in your ear the moment you taste the warm copper on your tongue. 

The aftershocks have barely abated when your hands fly to his belt. Your thighs want to clench at the sound of metal against metal, but you can’t. His thick thighs block the motion. You flick the button and drag his zipper down and Joel’s mouth never leaves you. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck. You grab his jeans and boxer briefs and shove them down. He pulls you forward on the counter so that your ass is teetering on the edge. 

His cock pops out of the waistband of his boxers and rests against the soft trail of hair under his belly button. He looks over his shoulder, double checking that the door is locked and runs the tip of him through your soaked folds. He catches at your entrance and when you moan, please, he pushes inside. He feeds his cock to you slowly, allowing your walls to stretch for him, mold to the shape of him, until he’s sheathed fully. 

Joel’s breath is quick and heavy in your ear as he pumps his hips in and out of you, hand held tight to the small of your back. The nudge of his thick head against your cervix punches the breath out of you. You rake your nails across the broad expanse of his shoulders and he groans against your ear. The muffled sound of the fight song trickles in under the door and you find yourself thankful for the noise. Then, an idea strikes you. 

Joel doesn’t seem to notice when you first begin to hum in his ear. Either that, or he’s too pussy drunk to care. Your own rendition of “Fly, Eagles, Fly” is interrupted by moans and stuttered breaths, but you persevere. The rivalry doesn’t just go away because he’s inside of you. 

“The hell are you doin’?” he punctuates the question with a particularly sharp thrust. 

“C’mon, Joel. Say it just once. For me?” you clench your walls around him, squeezing him tight. His pace falters and he squeezes you tighter against him. 

“Pussy’s so good, baby.” he groans. “But it ain’t that good.” 

Suddenly, he pulls out of you. He grabs your ass and pulls you off the counter, hands on your hips to steady you. Once he’s sure your legs won’t wobble, he spins you around. He gathers both of wrists in one of his large hands and holds them in front of you, stretching them towards the mirror. There’s a near feral look in his eyes when he raises his hand, bringing it down in a swat to your ass cheek.He watches the ripple of your skin as he takes his cock in his hand and eases it back into you. 

“Oh my god.” you cry. He’s so much deeper from this angle. He nudges against something devastating inside of you. Something you never knew existed. It doesn’t take Joel but a moment to build up to a bruising pace. Your eyes never leave his face in the mirror, watching him pound into you with a hunger you didn’t expect from a man his age. Tension coils through your entire body, like a snake gearing up to strike. 

Joel’s eyes catch yours in the mirror and he gives you a devilish grin. “Gonna fuck that team spirit right outta ya.” he growls. He grips your shoulder, pulling you back onto his cock with each thrust. The smile returns when he feels your pussy fluttering around him. “That’s right, darlin’. Be a good girl. Give it to me.” 

Your orgasm crashes through you. You can feel it everywhere, the strain in your biceps where he’s stretching your arms. The tips of your toes where you stand on them to give him access. Low in your belly when you gush around him, drawing his own release from him. He comes with a shout, pulsing inside of you. He’s so big, fills you so completely, that you can feel every throb and shudder of his cock as he paints your walls. 

He releases your wrists and you fall against the counter. Joel slumps over your back and the two of you fight to catch your breath. The noise from the bar begins to quiet down as people disperse for the evening. Joel stands and pulls his pants up and you hide your ruined tights as best you can with your skirt. 

Joel chucks you under the chin and presses a light kiss to your lips. “Guess we better get out there huh?” 

You sigh and smooth your clothes once more, nodding in agreement. Joel unlocks the door and pops his head out, making sure the coast is clear. “I’ll go first. See you out there?” he nods towards the bar with his head.

“Yeah,” you nod. “See you out there.” the door closes behind him and you turn to the mirror to give yourself the once over. Satisfied that you don’t look freshly fucked, you step into the hallway. You feel a twinge of disappointment when you don’t see Joel, but continue down the hallway, back to the bar.

You see him walking towards the table he started the night at, interrupting Tommy’s conversation. Tommy looks up at his brother and breaks out into a grin. His eyes flick over Joel’s shoulder to you, and he gives you a wink. Joel turns and smiles, waving you over. He introduces you to Tommy, who shakes your hand before returning to his own chance for a consolation prize. 

“So,” you begin. “Maybe I’ll see you here next week?” you ask hopefully. 

Joel huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “No, darlin’. I don’t think you will.” When you look down at the ground, dejected, Joel once again raises your chin with his fingers. “But you can come over and watch the game at my place if you want.” he offers hopefully. 

“I’d like that.” you tell him. Offering him your phone to input his number. 

Tommy throws an arm around Joel’s shoulder. His other is slung across the waist of the woman he was talking to. “C’mon big brother. Ride’s waitin’.” he says. Joel hands you back your phone and bends to kiss your cheek. When he does, Tommy lets out a loud “Whoo!” and before you know it, your forgotten panties are clutched in his fist. “What do we have here?” he teases and pushes the balled up fabric into Joel’s hand. 

Joel glares at his brother before tucking the panties into the pocket of his jacket. “Text me when you make it home?” he asks quietly. You nod and they leave. As you watch him walk away, you realize what you just agreed to. The game meant something different to you than it did him. Now you gotta go watch a fucking Cowboys game. 

taglist: @planet-marz1 @rhoorl  @nerdieforpedro @hyzer34 @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @joeldjarinff @harriedandharassed @casa-boiardi @disassociation-daydreams @inept-the-magnificent @elegantduckturtle @magpiepills @cherubispunk @milly-louise @party-hearses @megamindsecretlair @survivingandenduring @Darkheartgatita @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @callmecath1 @pedge-page @justagalwhowrites @morallyinept @heareball @yorksgirl @clawdee @fluffygoffpanda @poodlebae @readingiskeepingmegoing @amanitacowboy @casuallyfancydonut @for-a-longlongtime @hiddenbabynyc @missladym1981 @noxturnalpascal @joelsflannel @rosi3ba3z @professionalpromqueen @survivingandenduring @anoverwhelmingdin@heavennumber2@pascalpvnk@joels-shitty-puns@weho2kcmo@uncassettodiricordi @noisynightmarepoetry @spookyxsam @apesarecuul @maried01 @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @vabeachan @yorksgirl

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

[thechaoticdruid]

°•IF THE BG3 COMPANIONS BABYSAT YOUR KIDS!•°

Lae'zel

Congratulations your children are spending an afternoon at boot camp!

You can rest assured they will be treated fairly at least.

No favoritism going on here.

Anyone who misbehaves shall be sent to solidarity confinement and left there until....Idk

If they want a snack they WILL have to fight one another in a duel to the death.

Or at least until one of them falls down and cries.

To the winner go the cookies.

Or more accurately maybe some giant space hamster jerky.

Karlach

This is assuming her engine has been fixed, naturally.

The kids absolutely love Auntie K.

Legit can carry them all on her shoulders at once.

She gives the best hugs too and is always so nice and warm.

She is up to play any games with them! Especially ones where she pretends to be a monster and chases them around.

Very protective of the little ones.

Brings them new stuffies each time she visits.

You MUST remind her constantly to watch her language around the little ones!

Gale

Arrives via magic portal.

Brings Tara to help him.

Takes it very personally if one of the children don't like him.

Tries to impress them via magic and creates a magical illusion to entertain the kiddos.

Attempts to teach them everything he knows about the weave.

Takes it very hard if the children fall asleep during his lecture.

Must be consoled by Tara.

If any take an interest in the weave they immediately become his favorite.

You'll probably end up coming home to your home appliances floating or having some kind of enchantment on them.

Halsin

Yes he turns into a bear and lets them ride on his back.

Most time is spent outside enjoying nature and all of its beauty.

Will carry the littlest one on his shoulders at all times.

Always brings healthy snacks, mostly fruit like apple slices.

Proceeds to take them to a nearby pond to feed the ducks.

Widdles them little animal figures to play with.

No TV or video games. The thought of technology taking over their lives makes him sick.

We play outside or we don't play at all.

Doesn't mind them grabbing at his ears, if they can even reach them that is!

He has to remind one of them multiple times that he unfortunately cannot turn into a dragon.

Sad sad truth.

Shadowheart

Makes cute little flower crowns with them.

Helps the little ones feel better if any of them are afraid of the dark.

Is very good at comforting them.

Possibly might be one of the older one's first goth girl crush.

Badmouths Lae'zel in front of them shamelessly.

Always puts on a tim Burton movie or something for them to watch.

Definitely the reason for any of their emo phases.

They think she's really cool though.

Wyll

Always the first to volunteer to babysit.

Man has the patience of a saint and can handle even the most unruly of children.

Always talks them up and is very careful to never put them down.

Tells them all kinds of exciting stories of his time as the Blade.

Makes sure to adjust them to be suitable for the kiddos.

Leaves out the scary parts.

If any of them are mean to one another and can't get along he's the type to make them each say something nice about the other as a punishment.

Let's them play with toy swords and teaches them a thing or two about using them.

Never raises his voice at them. Is super calm and collected.

Loves them all to pieces!

Also may or may not take them out to get ice cream if they're good.

Astarion

Assuming this is Spawnstarion we're talking about because the vampire Ascendant would just laugh in your face if you asked him then slam the door on you.

Our sweet little spawn will also likely laugh and think you're joking at first.

"You seriously want a vampire to watch over your children?"

Assuming you pay him and be sure to give him big sweet puppy dog eyes he may consider it.

This man is a very not my child not my problem kind of guy.

Gets annoyed with all the children asking tedious vampire questions and responds with very sarcastic answers.

Does not approve of them wanting to touch his ears.

Agrees to let them see his fangs in hopes to scare them (the mischievous little shit).

The children instead think they're cool, which confuses him. He really isn't sure how to feel about it.

Threatens to eat them if they get on his nerves.

Spends most of the time on the sofa, boredly reading a magazine or watching television.

Miraculously takes a shine to one of the younger girls who call him pretty and compliments his clothes and hair.

This is also given the girl is a little mischief gremlin who pulls pranks on her older siblings.

He lets her paint his nails purple or red while she gossips about her mother/father's new partner or her siblings.

Unapologetically shows her favoritism and lets her sit on his lap and watch TV with him.

Will not bat an eye if the other children run a muck and destroy shit.

Legit just keeps watching TV. Probably some drama filled 'reality' show.

He actually finds the chaos caused by the children quite amusing.

One of the children somehow ends up on the roof.

Once the parents are home and it's time to leave. The youngest girl gives him a hug.

His eyes get all big and round and almost threaten to tear up.

Astarion is not asked to babysit again.

Sorry some of them are so short, I mostly write for Astarion so I'm not very confident at doing the other characters.

Hope you like it though!

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel of k'liir #shadowheart #shadowheart x reader #wyll ravengard #wyll x reader #gale dekarios #Gale x reader #karlach x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 headcanons #baldur's gate 3 headcanons #halsin x reader

[teabutmakeitazure]

Congratulations on 1000 followers, 1000 mouths to feed, and 2000 watchful eyes (｢• ω •)｢ Couldn't happen to a better writer ♡

I saw you sneak Illumi on that list. I am very frightened of the needle man. Can I request something with the first time Illumi realizes he is obsessed with darling?

Perforate and Permeate

>Yan! Illumi x Fem! Reader

>Word count: ~3.4k

Red flags start appearing in the form of odd piercings on taxi drivers. The feeling of something horribly off surrounds you, but in the end, some people are always powerless, aren't they?

The first red flag of the evening was the creepy taxi driver. There seemed to be some sort of yellow ball stuck to the skin on his neck, and his movements and speech were somewhat robotic. The second red flag was that he offered you a ride without you even calling for one.

Thankfully, the evening rush hour helped you get away from the peculiar man, and you slid into the subway train, hidden and safe among the numerous people around you. Ironically enough, it felt a little hypocritical to find comfort among the number of people since you were always adverse to crowds. The smell of sweat and close proximity of human beings made you a little nauseous, but right now it felt safe.

The third red flag comes in the form of your apartment building’s watchman being absent. He never takes a day off and always ensures that the other watchman - the man who usually works as the receptionist since for some reason there’s a desk and everything in the lobby - takes his place while he’s away for food or such.

Neither men were there and as you press the elevator button to your floor, you catch a shadow in the corner of your eye before the doors close. The fourth red flag is that your apartment windows are open. Not all of them, but the living room windows are open. You’re absolutely certain you had left them closed when you left. You could even swear on it.

Nevertheless, some sort of dismissive hope deludes you into believing that the wind opened them and you don’t dare come any closer. The reminder to check their locks is pushed into the back of your mind when you fall onto your bed face first. Silence envelopes you, its warm hands granting you the comfort of your home.

Despite how quick the comfort came, all relaxation leaves your bones when your phone rings. As you accept the call and press your phone to your ear, you realise you almost drifted off. Your mother’s voice greets you before turning into a scolding one when you tell her you just got home.

The conversation goes as it usually does, your nerves calming down despite the subtle feeling of not being alone. You don’t blame your scepticism. Ever since you moved out, you’ve always been careful and paranoid. Maybe it has to do with preferring silence and being around less people, but you don’t like the lonesomeness and silence as much as you thought you did.

You say goodbye to your mother on the phone, and sit up, groggily making your way to the kitchen. The silence of the apartment unnerves you, so you turn on your phone’s flashlight and check every single room and cupboard of the house, leaving all the light bulbs on.

The apartment is now fully illuminated and the TV plays some random news show while you cook. It makes for good white noise and you don’t feel as alone anymore.

But you still feel watched.

The curtains are promptly drawn over the windows.

Thankfully, the feeling goes but quickly returns when you sit down to eat dinner. The panic that arises constricts your throat, heart beating in your throat and you immediately dial your mother again, praying that the paranoia dies down.

It doesn’t. She never picks up. 

Three phone calls later, she picks up but excuses herself saying that she’s going out for lunch with your father. The time zone difference makes you frown, realising that you're ruining her weekend with your baseless paranoia.

Dinner gets your attention back, but something seems to have its attention on you.

You're cognizant of the sounds coming from the street, television muted. The drip drip from the kitchen sink sings the vocals while the refrigerator buzzes the music. Exhaling, you pay attention to the noisy details, dinner finished and an empty plate in front of you.

The feeling goes away soon, but comfort doesn't return.

-

The first red flag of today's evening follows behind you. A man with his hoodie hiding half his face is trailing behind you, and you're briefly wondering how dense he must be to not realise that you're leading him in a circle for the fourth time. You don't mind the extra walking, but it's pretty annoying.

Should you lead him to a police station? Losing him doesn't seem to be an option. He's persistent. Even in the fifth circle, he's casually walking behind you.

You go ahead with making your way to a nearby station, but he slips away when it's in sight. Your eyes watch the man as he heads the other way, an uneasy feeling stirring in your chest at the loss of someone's eyes on you. As you make your way back to the subway station, you contemplate walking home instead. Maybe you could drop by a café or even pick up dinner from somewhere.

However, a second red flag appears while you are in your thoughts. A taxi stops in front of you when you're scrounging around your bag for your phone and the window pulls down to reveal a taxi driver with a strange yellow piercing between his eyebrows.

The driver offers you a ride, and you stare at him dumbfounded. You didn't call for a taxi. A few passer-bys send you confused looks, but you brush it off. The man is promptly shut down and you walk away, mentally cursing yourself over the lack of crowd on the street.

Almost as though on cue, a lady grabs your arm. Her grip is unyielding and she frantically explains how you need to come with her. A familiar yellow piercing on either side of her neck greets you when you turn to look at her, but any composure you have quickly dissipates when she starts pulling you.

It takes everything you have in you to pry yourself off and run in the other direction. The few people that did stare at you turn away when they see you running, and honestly you don't blame them. No one wants to get tangled up in something like that.

By the time your legs start hurting, you're almost home. There's no time to pick up anything from a restaurant so you make a mental note to order in instead. As you walk with your phone in hand, the situation dawn's on you. Three red flags already. You don't even want to know what the fourth one will be.

But alas, the heavens never hear your silent pleas and the fourth red flag stands in the watchman-less lobby of your apartment building. You hadn't seen either men today as well, and simply seeing the person who casually leans against the wall with eyes fixed on you is making your heart do literal backflips inside your chest.

"[Name]."

The simple greeting makes you freeze. Hands grip your bag tighter as you look into his bottomless eyes and greet him back with a simple hello. He doesn't seem to mind your nervousness and gets straight to the point.

"I wanted to see you. It's been quite a while."

Your finger remains on the power button of your phone, ready to press it five times at the earliest notice to send SOS messages to your friends. Upon receiving no response, he continues, trying not to eye your deathly grips on your belongings.

"How was your day?"

"It was… fine." Voice meek, you don't know what to say to him. It's not everyday you see a person such as himself. "How… have you been, Illumi?"

The question seems to perk him up. "I'm not quite sure, but I suppose I've been alright. I do want to ask you something. Why are you holding your phone and bag so tightly?"

The muscles on your legs go taut, and you briefly glance at the elevator door thinking you could make a run for it. However, the reminder of Illumi's occupation mocks you. Of course a hunter wouldn't let you go so easily.

"I'm not sure." Your words are unsure as you speak. "I guess I'm not feeling very well."

"Should I get you medical attention?"

"No. Not that kind of not very well. I just feel a bit down, that's all."

He seems to have understood something because he's nodding. "I see. If there's nothing wrong with your physical health, it'll go away. Make sure to rest properly and you'll feel better."

"Thanks. I'll go to bed early tonight."

"Are you free right now?"

Free? Does he want something? You're no help to a hunter. "I'd like to get to bed as soon as possible, but I'm willing to hear you out."

Your grip on your phone loosens a bit, and Illumi immediately takes a few steps closer. Hardly a foot of space is left between the two of you, but before apprehension can return, he's demanding all your attention with his words.

"May I have your phone number?"

What?

"My… phone number?"

He nods. "Yes. Your phone number."

The dumbfounded look on your face makes him blink at you owlishly. 

"I was wondering whether or not it would be appropriate for me to ask for it. I suppose I settled with ignoring the thought."

Did he… really just admit that? 

"Um, alright. I don't see why not." You know where I live anyway, the voice in your head continues. 

You share your contact information with Illumi, but you have no idea why he wants it. His intentions are as clear as muddy water. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but if nothing, at least he asked you for it. With his licence, he could have obtained your number with ease like how he ended up in your apartment's lobby. You give him only a few points for human decency.

When he’s done saving your information on his phone, a satisfied look is on his face. The silence of the lobby remains as you wait for him to finally let you leave. That is to say he doesn’t request to visit your apartment.

“I think that’ll do.” Illumi looks up, head tilting slightly when he sees your exhausted expression. “You should rest. I won’t stop you. Just seeing you this evening is enough for me. We can talk some other time.”

Talk? What would you both even talk about? The only reason you know him is because some target of his was your work client and he scared him off. Honestly, never hearing from that man again is one of the best things that happened in your life.

“Sure,” you reply with a very obviously unsure voice. “I’ll see you later then.”

Illumi waves you off and as you step towards the elevator, you feel a little shameful for not inviting him for dinner. But then you remember that you live alone and he’s an adult man. Perhaps it’s better to not do so.

As you press the button, you glance back at Illumi down the lobby. He's waving at you, so you wave back. The door starts to close and the expression on Illumi's face changes. Lips curl upwards, eyes crinkling as well.

When the door closes, you're thankful for the distance. You never want to see that horrifying grin on his face again. It sent shivers down your spine and it seems like the creepy smile is now engraved into your brain.

Had you not been in the elevator, you would've ran out the lobby. Perhaps some people are better off expressionless after all.

-

It's been an entire day since Illumi took your number. There's been no contact, no message, nothing. As you stare at your phone sitting in front of you on the sofa, you think back over today's evening bitterly.

There was another taxi driver with the same yellow piercing. Added to that, an old woman with the same piercing had approached you and asked to walk her home. You declined. Though it felt bad to say no to an old lady, you didn't want to possibly find any unwanted trouble.

Besides, there's something definitely wrong going on. After the old lady, you found the watchman in the lobby. Even he had a piercing on his face, in between his forehead to be precise.

You didn't bother to reply to his greeting this time. There was something off about his smile.

Maybe you should move out as soon as possible.

However, that's not what's bothering you. It's the fact that there have always been four red flags. This evening, you only came across three.

The thought of an impending fourth one makes you feel nauseous. You're home now, back to safety. There has never been anything bad between these four walls, so why would there be anything now?

Maybe you missed counting a fourth one. Yes. That's it. You just missed one red flag. The thought doesn't do much to console you, but it's enough to allow you to sleep when your head hits the pillow. Unfortunately for you, that doesn't last very long.

The feeling of a pair of eyes wakes you up with a startle. You immediately throw away the covers and run to the switch, turning on the lights. Nothing. The same goes for the rest of your apartment. All the lights are on but there’s nothing out of place.

Are you going crazy? 

It must have been a bad dream. You still feel watched, but that’s just because you just woke up. Water. You need some water.

The glass is quickly emptied as soon as you fill it, and now you stand alone in the kitchen, the silence of the night and the refrigerator’s hum your only companions. The kitchen counter is cold underneath your lingering fingertips, and begrudgingly, you part with it.

Sleep doesn't come back easily. At least half an hour must’ve passed with no sign of slumber’s gentle embrace, so you get up and turn off the bedroom light. The door is then left open only a little bit to let some light from the living room bleed inside the room.

It doesn’t help much, but your eyes feel less burdened.

Upon turning to the other side and nuzzling into the sheets further, the lessened burden seems to increase again. There’s someone resting their face on the mattress, body probably sitting on the floor and this person’s eyes seem to be fixed on you.

It takes you blinking a few times and sitting up to realise this isn’t a dream.

By the time your eyes have completely blinked away any sleep, a hand is slapped over your mouth to stop you from screaming. Your chest heaves as you follow the arm to the body it’s attached to and finally the face.

Illumi.

“Pardon me if I woke you up. It wasn’t my intention.”

The mattress dips as he joins you on the bed. If the circumstance wasn’t unfortunate enough, he’s now literally hovering over you with one of his knees between your parted legs under the blanket. Long black hair cascades around his face as he leans in, large eyes observing your features.

You blink at him as your breathing settles down. The lack of action from Illumi’s end does help your nerves calm down a little, but the threat of an obviously more powerful man literally above still remains.

This is your fourth red flag.

The weight of his observant stare weighs you down, the feeling of a boulder on your chest making you sink backwards into the bed. All that you see are Illumi’s large, dark eyes. It’s suffocating and you want to scream, but the sound dies in your throat before he even lets go.

You don’t dare make a single noise as he sits up straight on your thighs.

Illumi briefly breaks eye contact, eyes dropping down to your collarbones peeking from your neckline from the dishevelled state before his eyes go back up to yours. The weight of the boulder had lifted during that time, but with his eyes back on you that weight goes to your consciousness.

“I suppose I should commend you for not screaming. Seems like you’re quick to understand.”

All he gets in reply is your nervous gulp.

“You require an explanation, don’t you?”

This time, he tilts his head at your lack of response.

“I gave myself an ultimatum. Four tries every evening for every working day of this week are all I have to work with. If your refusals of my lenient methods bother me, then I must get to the bottom of the feeling. If I am not bothered in the slightest, I must stop wasting my time.” Iluumi pauses, possibly in anticipation of some sort of response, but continues. “I suppose my presence here at this hour explains which conclusion I had come to.”

He waits again for a few moments but ends up explaining his own words himself when you’re still frozen in what he thinks is shock. “Your refusals bothered me. I can’t be certain why. Even your less enthusiastic response to me asking for your phone number bothered me.”

You’re still staring at him. Mind barely processing the words. Illumi is in your room in the middle of the night. Illumi is a hunter, a potentially dangerous person, and he’s caged you to your own bed. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever been in your life, yet you can’t even bring yourself to cry over the absolute fear you feel because of the intensity that keeps growing and radiating from Illumi.

“You occupy my thoughts more than I would prefer, and the only cure I found for that is to watch you when you’re home. No other activity soothes it.”

His index finger and thumb hold his chin as he continues thinking over the matter, but his eyes are still fixed onto you. When his eyes widen slightly, the intensity you felt grows dramatically and you have to reflexively cover yourself till the top of your head with the blanket to not end up asphyxiated.

A hand gently pulls down the cover till your chin, and luckily, the intensity mellows enough to allow you to breathe.

“I came here tonight to understand why trying to sleep on my own causes me distress. It’s like I search for you in my own bed, and the lack of your presence makes me restless.”

He leans in, hands sinking into the mattress on either side of your hips and you instinctively shrink into yourself. Voice perfectly even, the tone betrays the depth of his words. “I talked to my mother about this feeling and came to a conclusion. I’m in love with you.”

Sweat starts to bead at your forehead, but Illumi’s eyes refuse to allow you any reprieve. One of his hands sneak up your body, fingertips gently tracing the outline till his hand lightly wraps around your throat. The grip is non-existent but the threat of a not so well meaning squeeze still exists.

“All I need to do is squeeze. A fragile human such as yourself would give in to death in under ten seconds if I do decide to test my grip. However, even the mere thought of it bothers me. Even now, I can’t bring myself to hurt you.”

The hand moves further upwards, cupping your cheek despite the sweat. “At first I thought you were using some kind of Nen to bewitch me, so imagine my surprise when I found out that you’re a non-user.”

You finally manage to shakily exhale through your mouth, but the beating in your heart suddenly becomes too loud when his thumb traces the edges of your lips.

“I thought I should kill you to get rid of your spell, but the thought of you not existing anymore made my chest ache.” Illumi sighs. “Seems like the damage has been done, and it’s quite a lot. With how the majority of my thoughts are about you, I could even claim that I’m obsessed.”

The intensity grows again, and it gets even harder to breathe in the cool room. When Illumi’s thumb forces your lips open and presses down on your tongue, you can only hope you’ll be safe. After all, the look in his eyes is absolutely frightening.

#thank you for the request #it was fun lol #AzureTea requests #yandere hunter x reader #hunter x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #illumi x reader #yandere illumi x reader #yandere illumi #why does the title sound like macrophages doing their everyday job

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: when he comes back from arguably most demanding races of the season, he truly wants to be cuddled up with his girlfriend especially when they haven't seen each other in two weeks.

warnings: established relationship!, mild smut (18+ MDNI), cussing. the usual. typos.

wc: 2.6k

requested: yes | no ~ this lovely request right here!

saint team radio: i wanna scream, this was supposed to be out in SEPTEMBER!!! but now it’s here 🤭. lil one shot before releasing “Break my Soul” and i hope you guys enjoy this one. plus i’m getting used to writing smut now 😧 anyways bye! love ya!

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @lorarri @thisismeracing @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @planetmimi @alika-4466 @arshiyuh (lmk if you wanna be tagged!)

pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽 (i’m watching you 🤨)

-

"I know what you are." You gasped as you watched Bella confront Edward in the forest. The morning sun was shining its rays through the large windows and sliding doors of the large house. The couch was slowly sinking you into it, the packet of cookies from your favourite bakery nestled next to your comfortable figure.

Understandably, it was quite early in the morning, 9 am to be precise, to be watching Twilight and munching on cookies but to be fair, Roscoe had woken you up for early morning snuggles. Deciding to check the time on your phone, you became distracted by your wallpaper of Lewis with you next to him with the green mountains of Bali right behind you both, flowers behind your ear to celebrate your birthday.

You truly missed him a lot, these past two weeks felt as if they dragged on and on the longer you waited to see him. Only being able to see him on your phone screen and tv, his fashion becoming a staple for you to follow almost every week. When his face appeared on screen for a post race interview, you would find yourself admiring him and completely closing off to whatever he was saying into the mics. Even seeing his car drive around gave you butterflies, just hearing his name would make you stop in your tracks every single time.

Lewis' face quickly invaded your mind, no longer focusing on the movie before you. Although you had tried to distract yourself with giving yourself tasks to do along with completing some work you probably missed, doing those things were just always better with your boyfriend around. Physically being on each other's space was something you needed desperately, a true connection when realising that you both had the love language of physical touch.

During these two week, you would resist the urge to touch yourself in thought of Lewis, deeming him to be the only one who could find your sweet spots so much better than you could. Embarrassingly enough, you had resorted to watching fan edits of him just for you to feel something. All you did was like a single video on your feed then you fell into the rabbit hole of his fans being extremely talented and feeling the way you felt but you would sleep better knowing that you had him all to yourself at the end of the day.

Snapping you out of your daily daydream about your boyfriend, your phone buzzed with a notification from the front gate of the house to say that a car has entered the driveway and you immediately jumped up in excitement, alerting Roscoe. "Come on boy, Dads is home." You smiled to the energetic dog who was eagerly waiting for you to put your slides on.

Opening the front door wide enough, Roscoe ran right past you to greet Lewis as the man was taking his luggage out of the trunk, giving his affection to his dog before standing up straight (with a bit of caution) to look at you standing just a few feet away. He studied you from head to toe, the Nike pro shorts were barely visible underneath the +44 sweater that you helped design. Your braids were fresh, nails done and from what he saw, a small but new tattoo on your hand and he swore his stomach flipped at the sight of you.

"Hey baby!" You expressed as you threw your arms around his neck, his head buried itself into your neck and your scent filled up his nostrils. "Hi." The tired voice vibrated through your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His large hands were resting on your lower back moving ever so slowly, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Moving your heads back, you gave him a sweet peck as he looked into your eyes afterwards. Studying his face a little, his eyes were a little droopy and his face wasn't as bright as you saw it on facetime hours ago. Letting go of the hug, you moved to help him with his suitcases but noticed that he seemed to walk a little funny as he walked into the house.

Finding him in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, you chose to lean back into the counter next to him. "Knowing you, I can tell you didn't eat so how about you go shower and i'll make breakfast?"  You suggested and all the man could do was smile and lean in to kiss you, tasting your strawberry chapstick before going upstairs with his hand on his back.

-

A hearty breakfast and him talking about how the race went in terms of strategy then a few discussions of random stuff, you both opted for chilling on the couch to catch up on a bit of TV. Lunch was ordered and you two spent the afternoon just being in each other's presence. You then decided to showcase the clothes you had bought during the two weeks he had been gone, each dress and skirt getting shorter than the last with his exhaustion preventing him from wanting to take you right then and there.

Changing back into the original outfit you had on, he quickly changed into his gym wear to work out in the home gym he had built in before you had moved in. "Will you be okay to workout, Lew?" You asked, filling the glass with small heart shaped ice cubes, ironically matching the tennis bracelet you were wearing. "I'm fine sweetie, I promise." He muttered as his eyes trailed down to your chest, the +44 sweater long gone as the day became hotter. "Eyes up here, babe." You giggled as he didn't even seem to hear you say anything.

"What?" He snapped out of it, making you laugh a little harder. "Go do your workout stuff, you dork. When you come back, we can do some skin care." You smiled as he held your hips with his grip tightened. "I can think of something else-"

"Lewis, I'm gonna bite you. Go." You narrowed your eyes at the man who walked away giggling as if he heard the funniest joke.

Nighttime was slowly approaching and dinner was already prepared, finding pesto really easy to make. Lewis was still in the home gym, your phone buzzing with instagram telling you that he posted on his story. Clicking on it, you saw how your boyfriend took a full body mirror picture with his shirt completely off and he looked a bit breathless. The lights glistened on his abs and tattoos, accentuating his tan even more. The v line was showing as his shorts sat quite low on his waist and you were left speechless, gripping the blanket so much that you could barely feel your hand anymore. Rubbing your thighs together, you tried to relax your thoughts by reminding yourself that he still has what seemed like an injury on his back.

But to be fair, nothing could stop him, not even an injury.

You tried distracting yourself from the instagram story by playing some music and doing some online shopping. Hearing his heavy footsteps enter the room, his sweaty self looked at you with a look you knew all too well but you decided to not do the deed tonight because you thought he needed to be well rested for this.

"You gonna go shower?" You stopped what you were doing and faced him with crossed arm with a little smile on your face. He came a bit closer and you backed up. "Lew, get away. You're sweaty." Your cheeks started to hurt from the smiling and all he did was open his arms as he came closer to you. "Lewis, I'm so serious. Babe wai-" You didn't even finish your sentence before you bolted, heading up to your shared bedroom and he chased after you with both your giggles filling the air.

"Baby, stop moving. I can't put on the under eye mask." You pouted, holding the cold cucumber scented applicator in your hand. "It's just cold." He muttered, holding the back of your legs as you stood between his legs. "C'mon gramps, it'll take like 5 minutes then you'll forget it's there." Knowing how he'd react to the nickname, you received the nastiest side eye you've gotten from him. Doubling down in laughter, you held onto the bathroom sink counter for dear life as you continued to laugh with him.

As the laughter died down, you fixed your braids into a bun and put your hand out for him to give up his hair tie that he has had on the whole day. "I like your earrings, love. When'd you get them?" He asked, now standing behind you as you made eye contact in the mirror. His eyes still had the same look as when he came out of the gym. "Remember that one bracelet you brought back from Milan last month? They opened a store in Central london so I think it was Thursday." You nodded as you told him, removing both your under eye masks to then fully wash and moisturise your faces.

Lewis opted to watch you complete your routine as you did like to take your time with it, the scented candles creating the perfect atmosphere. His left hand came around your waist, his other hand holding onto your hip and his head dropping into your neck with small butterfly-like kisses peppering your skin. You stopped everything you were doing to feel exactly what Lewis was doing to you, his large hands lowering down your body with each kiss.

"Lew, baby. You need to rest." You whispered, unable to speak from his soft kisses. "Missed you so much, just wanna feel you.” He whined into your neck. As he picked up his head to kiss even further, you already turned your head to look at him, your face filled with worry.

“Can you not make that face?” You slightly jutted your lip out, his face sending a completely different message. “Is it working?”

“No.” You tried your best to hide the smile from your face, your boyfriend’s face dropping at the answer. Backing away from his embrace, you walked into the bedroom, fully aware that he was following right after you.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you watched as Lewis stood in front of you then locked eyes with you. “Love, can I at least eat you out?” His whiny voice sounded out and you were fully taken by surprise. You had yet to experience this side of him in the bedroom but if it meant hearing that voice all over again, you were all in.

Not even waiting for your words, the man dropped down onto his knees, holding your thighs as balance as he maintained the eye contact with you. “Please, please baby. I’ll be so good, I promise. Won’t tease you, I’m starving. Just wanna taste you.” He rambles, his eyes slightly closed as his voice drops the closer his face gets to your thighs.

You couldn’t believe what was actually happening, so much so that it took you a few seconds to even think of a response. His chocolate eyes looked up at you with such anticipation, eagerly waiting for you to say something, anything. All you could do was nod and within seconds, he began kissing up your thighs, silently thanking the universe for bringing the two of you together.

Between her slight panting, you remembered that his back was in pain from earlier in the day, giving you an idea. “Lew.” You called out, his head rising to stare at you once more. “Lie on your back, don’t need you to hurt it more than it already is.” You said, slowly guiding him to stand up with you then push him down onto the bed by his chest. He huffed out a slight chuckle at your eagerness.

Once the clothes were off, you crawled up to straddle him but catching him by surprise, your lower body was closer to his face than he thought. Your legs were on each side of his head, your dripping core was hovering right above his mouth, he could’ve sworn he was in heaven. Gently holding onto his braids, you lowered yourself slightly yet not fully sitting, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Y/n baby. Sit on my face, please.” Lewis groaned from underneath you, his breath hitting your core making you slightly shiver. His large hands creeped up onto your ass, bringing you down onto his face with a grip. Once you had gotten used to him devouring you like a touch starved man, you eventually found your rhythm and began moving in perfect harmony with his tongue, slightly pulling his braids when you felt the all too familiar knot into your stomach .

Your orgasm ripped through you, your moans bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. When wanting to lift yourself off of him, he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive clit, overstimulating you quite a bit. Your moans grew into whimpers and that’s when Lewis knew that you were beginning to feel tired, your body slightly shaking from the intense sensation of your release.

Now having a bit more energy, you actually lifted yourself up from his mouth and wanted to go down on him as you craved to have something that would give him the same sensation that he gave you. Before you could even reach his hard on, he held onto one of your hands. Kissing your palm, he spoke up. “Can you please just fuck me? I need to feel you around me, sweetie.” Lewis asked, the same look from before wooing you so easily.

You continued making your way down on him until he suddenly flipped the both of you. “Lew! Warn a girl next time!” You wanted to roll your eyes at him but he just smiled and leaned down to give you a breathtaking kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach once more.

“I’ve got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good.” He smirked, holding your legs to go around his waist. Once entering you, it truly felt like this should go on forever, have this night replay in your mind like a broken record. His hips snapping against yours would bring you back to reality, seeing stars once the familiar knot returned to taunt you. With the way he was pounding into you, you would’ve never thought he had back pain the whole time.

You screamed upon your 4th release, your body flopping against the sheets as you tried to catch your breath. Lewis emerged from the bathroom with a warm and slightly wet towel to gently wipe your pussy, you sucked in a breath as your sensitive clit felt the material against you.

Once fully done with aftercare for you and himself, you looked up at the man as you layed on your front to look at him laying next to you. “I truly love you, Y/n. Couldn’t thank the stars enough for you.” He expressed, the look in his eyes sending a deeper message into your soul.

“I love you so much, Lewis.” You responded and you could feel the love radiating off of each other.

This was love and you could forever drown in this feeling with Lewis right by your side.

#saint writes #f1 x reader #formula one x black reader #formula one x reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fic #Spotify

[beatificwrites]

—you suck off sub!mike in his office ★

pairing: sub!mike schmidt x reader

content: porn w/o a plot, smut, no use of y/n, reader has grippable hair, oral male!receiving

“What’re you doing??” his brows furrowed at the feeling of your hand sliding into his inner thigh.

“Don’t mind me.” the corner of your lip curved up and your hand remained in place.

Mike’s doe eyes waltzed aimlessly around the TV monitor as he flicked through the noisy cameras. He was already tired of this stupid job.

Your fingers could not help themselves as they crept closer and closer to your boyfriend’s crotch. Once they had reached jackpot, your hand began to gently rub against his bulge.

A restrained moan slipped out from his mouth, “babe, not here. Not here…” he groaned as you gave him a soft squeeze.

“Pffffft!” you scoffed. “Nobody’s watching.” you proceeded to slowly fondle with his ever-growing bulge.

“Please, I can’t loose this job.” he begged as he clamped his hands on the arms of the chair, knuckles turning ivory white.

“Gosh, you’ve always been super sensitive.” you rolled your eyes and copped a light feel of his sack before unzipping his jeans.

You bit your lips unconsciously at the sight of his precum already seeping through his briefs. Your hand practically led itself up and down his hidden cock.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna cream yourself already.” you snickered.

Mike frantically shook his head, but his flushed cheeks gave himself away.

“You need to relax, baby.”

You dropped to your knees and spread his legs further apart for better room. Your hand returned to gently rubbing against his shaft and your ears peaked up at the sound of him steadily sucking in the air through his teeth.

He began to feel your delicate kisses sprinkle all over his dick. He had no option, but to clench his fist to hold back from spilling all of himself too soon for your liking.

His huge eyes watched every move you made, anticipating the next. Ready to get high off of whatever treat you were about to give him.

You admired from below as the man above was spiraling out of control by the second. You had not even put him in your mouth and he was already about to come undone.

“I can’t relax like this-oh god!” he immediately threw his head back as he felt himself spring free and your hand gripping his length. Your touch was enough to send him to the stars.

You took a moment to ogle at his massiveness. You figured it shape-shifts and adjusts to it whatever state its in because your brain still couldn’t comprehend how such a thing could be supported by him all day long.

“Fuck..” he breathed out once your wet lips wrapped around his cock. He laid further back on the office chair and pulled his hoodie and shirt up just a bit.

Your tongue swirled around his tip, before you took it back out and lazily slipped your tongue up and down his length. You took your sweet time coating him in your slobber, testing his patience; your fave thing to do.

You rubbed his thickness with one hand and rested the other on his stomach, particularly his happy trail.

His mumbled curses came to an abrupt stop as soon as you started bobbing your head. With his mouth agape he threw his head back and you sucked as tenderly as you possibly could.

He reached out to guide your head, placing his coarse fingers through your hair. The urge to shove and move you, so you could suck at the pace he wanted you to, was strong. However, he knew he better.

You relinquished his cock for a moment. “grab as much as you want, sweetheart.” you breathed out.

His eyes widened a little, not expecting that from you. You gave a faint smile, deciding he could have his way with you for once.

He clasped a chunk of your hair not a millisecond later; not roughly, yet not gently either.

You hollowed your cheeks and blew twice as hard. “Jesus Christ!” he whined, through gritted teeth, as he pushed you further down. He was seconds away from spilling all of his load into your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck..I can’t hold it anymore!” he wailed.

His eyes rolled far back as he felt the intense wave of pleasure wash over his body. His cum spat out non-stop and you graciously took every drop he had to offer. The amount was too much to bare and it would drizzle down the corner of your lips.

You licked the salty stickiness from your bottom lip. Mike marveled, in his disheveled state, at the scene below him. You looked so beautiful right now despite the fact that you had just sucked him off.

You sprung off your knees and shared the taste with him.

“How you like that?” you titled your head as you rasped out.

“mehhh.” he answered with lidded eyes.

You giggled, “you’re so cute.”

───────── ☆

© beatificwrites

#reader included #reader insert #x reader #mike schmidt #mike fnaf #fnaf #fnaf imagines #mike smut #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt imagine #mike schimdt x fem!reader #sub!mike schimdt #smut #18+ content #five nights at freddy's #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral language #x gn reader #mike schimdt smut

[taintandviolent]

Like Right Now? ; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Part 2 of this fic! Peter waited as long as he could - which wasn't very long. He wants round 2 and you do too. Like.... right now.

word count: 3.3K words!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, couch sex, sex while parent is in the same vicinity dry humping, kissing, neck kissing.

a/n: not beta-read. by popular request... aaaah I'm still as nervous as I was posting the first part of this! anyway, I hope it's good and satisfies the peter craving! as always, sorry for any clunky weirdo writing!!!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

With a contented sigh, you opened the door to the house you shared with your mother. Even though you were technically an adult now, you had decided to stay with her, helping her around the house. A child of divorce, you’d always been a little overprotective of her, and couldn’t imagine her alone. 

“Did you have a good skate, honey?” Your mother asked, watching from the living room as you hung your skates on the hook by the door. With your thumb, you furiously rubbed off a scuff mark off the shiny surface and nodded. Boy, did you. Best skate you’d ever had. Using your heels to slip your sneakers off, and kicking them towards the rest of the shoes, you laughed. “Yeah, I went real fast tonight and–” 

The phone interrupted your next words, ringing shrilly. You practically stumbled towards it, reaching out for it like a parched man reaches for water. Your insides wound themselves in knots, just knowing that it was Peter on the other end. 

“H-hello?” 

“Hey cutie.” He’d waited. As long as he could without losin’ his ever loving mind. Which, he wondered if he already had, considering how bad he was aching to hear your voice again. Maybe he’d already lost it. 

“Hi,” you hummed, turning away from your mother. You brought your tone lower, hushed. 

“Did you just get home?” 

“Yeah, Peter, I did.” 

“Dang, slow poke. I’ve been home for a while.” 

“Okay, well,” you laughed. “That’s not fair.”

“When do we get to uh… hang out again? Huh? I’m already jonesin’ to see you again. With or without skates.” Peter adjusted the phone against his ear, waiting. 

You peeked around the corner. Your mother was busy with her program, no longer paying attention to your conversation, likely assuming that it was just one of your girlfriends. How wrong she was… 

“Hang out? Is that what we did?” 

“Yea’, er… somethin’ like that.” 

“Whenever you want.” 

“Aw, man, don’t say that…” 

“Why not?” You ducked around the corner and plopped down on the third step of the staircase, winding the cord around your fingers. You knew why. You heard the way that Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, even through the phone. 

“Like… now?” 

“...Right now?” You asked back, almost in a teasing tone. “Like right now?”

“Yeah!” His tone was bright and excited, and it sounded like he was already out of breath.

“My house?” The suggestion was brave, but you knew your mom would be going to sleep within the half-hour. If you stayed quiet, she wouldn’t hear you over her bedroom TV. 

“Yeah! I mean…” He cleared his throat, trying to act casual. Way more casualness was needed - he was acting super lame and way too into you. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you didn’t. He couldn’t risk it. “Sure. If you want.” 

You began whispering your address, your eyes flitting to the living room. Your mother rose from the chair and went to the kitchen, none the wiser. You continued, knowing Peter had already committed it to memory. Your mother leaned down to cup your face as she went up the stairs and mouthed goodnight, and you covered the receiver with your hand.

“Night, mom. Love you.” 

“Be there in a flash.” You heard him say. 

You wanted to tell him to wait, but the line was already dead. As you moved, your hands shook and fumbled the receiver, dropping it once before getting it back on its cradle. Your mother had hardly gotten up the steps, and he’d be there any second, if he wasn’t already. You heard the door click shut and heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Mom?” You said, testingly. She didn’t respond, so you launched your body up the carpeted stairs, running up them like a four-legged animal. Her door was shut, nothing but the dull glow of her bedside table seeping through the crack at the bottom of the door. You raced back down the stairs, your socks padding quietly down them, despite the speed.

Your bedroom was down the hall, past the kitchen. You’d never been gladder to be on the bottom floor. You crept into your room, edging the door shut until the latch clicked into place and as it did, paused to laugh at yourself; you were doing everything so sneakily, as though you were a child acting out. You were a grown woman, albeit still in your mom’s house, but the point remained. Pushing aside the curtains, you carefully maneuvered the window up. It was a warm summer evening, there was no reason why you wouldn't open your window - perfectly normal, if your mother heard it. You stuck your head out. No Peter. Surely, he’d have been here by now. You breathed, looking at the base of the tree outside your window. A squirrel skittered up into the branches. Just as you were about to pull your head back inside, Peter’s head comically poked out from the corner of the house. He had clearly been standing by the front door, which horrified you.

“Took so long, I was about to knock – .”

You shushed him, and whispered harshly for him to get inside. He stuck one leg in, climbing in carefully – the last thing he needed was to be a total klutz and eat it on your bedroom floor.

“You’re crazy, you know that? The front door!?” 

“Cool your jets, babe. You didn’t tell me which window was yours. Where’s your mom?” 

“Upstairs, hopefully sleeping.” 

“Good,” he murmured into your lips, suddenly in front of you. He’d caught you off guard with his speed, but like everything he’d done from the moment he’d complimented your skates, he was so frustratingly cute. The kiss was warm and soft, you were in no position to resist it. He kissed you back towards the bed, his hands cupping your breasts, thumb tweaking your nipples over your shirt. Which reminded you… you were still in your skating clothes. There was far too much fabric in between his thumb and your nipple. 

“Lemme’,” you murmured sloppily into his lips, before finally pulling back. “Lemme’ change first, okay? It’ll look less suspicious. Who needs to cool their jets, huh?” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Hands up, Peter took a step back, watching you as you sauntered off towards your small closet. Your hips swayed back and forth to a song that wasn’t playing. Probably something you’d heard at the skating rink. You could admit it, you were putting on a bit of a show in hopes of arousing him. 

Still though, you hurried, sliding the doors open and pulling your shirt over your head. You reached around and undid your bra, glancing back at him cheekily. Woah, jackpot… he thought, hoping, that at that point, he wasn’t drooling like a cartoon dog. He was watching you intently, a crooked grin plastered on his face. Neck turned, you held his gaze, daring him to look as you slid your shorts and panties down over the curve of your ass. He looked, but it was so fast of a peek that it was impossible for you to notice. Now finished with your impromptu strip tease, you pulled a sleeping shirt from the shelf and threw it on, spinning on your heels to face him. 

Clad in nothing but the oversized t-shirt, you marched back to Peter, who had taken a seat on the edge of your bed. You climbed behind him, sliding your hands up the round muscle of his shoulders. On your knees, you were just taller than him and decided to take advantage of that by kissing his neck, slowly. You nipped here and there, suckling in other places while your hands explored the front of his shirt, ghosting over the faded print. 

Peter started sweating, and the stiffness between his legs got worse. Much worse. There was no hiding it, or ignoring it and he could’ve sworn that he heard you giggle behind him. His expression was a melange of pain and pleasure, and as your hands neared his crotch, he couldn’t really tolerate much more of your tender kissing… 

“Babe,” In a blur of motion, your back was pressed against your mattress, and he was back to tweaking your nipples again, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. The action made you squirm. “Your foreplay is bitchin’, but you’re driving me crazy. Loco. I feel like I’m gonna’ bust.”

“Okay, so now what?” 

“Now what?” He repeated, almost mockingly. “It’s my turn.”  

His hand trailed down from your breasts over the curve of your stomach to the soft mound between your legs. You felt a buzzing directly on the sensitive bundle of nerves and looked down, equal parts confused and aroused. It was his hand, and not a vibrator, but instead of seeing his fingers move back and forth, you saw a flesh-coloured blur. Everything you’d learned about fingering… in the span of a few hours, he’d completely shattered. So, he could finger-fuck you at super-speed, and he could literally vibrate your clit. Of course he could. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, an intoxicating lilt to your words. Peter groaned, and ground his hips against the side of your thigh. His finger dipped down, collecting some of your warm, slithery wetness and pulling it back up, smearing it around your folds.

You clapped your hand over your mouth, legs quivering. The pad of his middle finger continued tapping your clit and you felt the very rapid climb of your orgasm. Without warning from him, Peter’s hand drifted away from your pussy, his slick fingers gripping your thigh. “Babe, I’m thirsty.” 

“Wh-what?” Breathless and sweaty, you quirked a brow at him.

“You got a soda or something?” 

“Uh, yeah, in the kitchen. Y-you’re really thirsty right now?” 

Before you could protest, you stood in the kitchen. He had opened the fridge, popped the tab on a can of Coke, guzzled it, and tossed it into the bin. You blinked. “What… Peter…!” You sniggered, covering your mouth to muffle the sound of your own voice. Your mother’s bedroom was right above the living room, and the last thing you wanted was her to wake. 

He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t wait any longer. He’d gotten you downstairs, and now it was time to up the ante. Wrapping his arms around you, Peter zipped to the couch, and could’ve fucked your wet little cunt right there on the sofa. In the span of a few seconds, Peter could’ve drilled his aching cock inside of you, just long enough for you to feel it, just long enough for him to bust inside you and just long enough to make you quiver. Instead, he hovered over you, looking deep into your eyes, chest heaving. 

“What’re you so nervous for, babe? You know that the second I hear footsteps, we’d be back in your room.” 

“Peter, we can’t… my mom is right above us, dude!” 

“You’re no fun, c’mon.” He craned his neck down, pressing a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone. “C’mon, babe.”

You whimpered, rolling your lips inward and your eyes upward. For being such a top tier goof ball, he was unnervingly good at making you feel like your entire body was on fire. That electric current that you felt at the roller rink was back, buzzing through you at a high voltage.

“Peter…” you begged, hoping he’d change his mind because the reality was that he’d get his way if he didn’t. You were too turned on and too into him to say no. 

“C’moooon.” Another kiss. Internally, he was ripping stuffing. His confidence was outrageous, where did he get the balls? He wished you were holdin’ his – no. Stop right there. You ran your tongue along your teeth, and Peter watched the wet muscle as it swept across the enamel, glistening. 

“You promise?”  you asked. 

He nodded, too eagerly, his silver hair flopping with the motion. “Scout’s honour, or whatever. She won’t know a thing.” 

With a little huff, you spread your legs, allowing him in. Peter wasted no time in letting that wet, aching monster free, immediately pulling his gray boxers down over his balls. You pressed your hips into the couch cushions, backing away from the heat that met your groin and Peter followed them, pressing his hips right back into you. He groaned breathily, rutting his hips. You were soft and warm underneath him, and felt so soo good. The shaft of his cock met your wet folds, and he immediately found a rhythm, humping you in long, steady thrusts that had you curling your toes. Every time the velvet plush head of his cock bumped into your swollen clit, you whimpered. Ecstasy deluded your senses, eyes rolling back in your head.  

“Peter, oh my god…!” His hand clamped over your mouth, his dark eyes widening in a warning. 

“Shhhhhhh –” 

You nodded underneath his grip, remembering the threat of the situation. Peter kept his hand on your mouth, pressing tightly against your soft lips. He reached down, taking hold of his cock and pumped it in and out of his own fist a few times before lining up with your entrance.

“Ready?” 

With lusty, half-lidded eyes, you nodded. 

Peter pushed his leaking tip inside of you, then with a shaky breath, sunk the rest of the way in. The sensation of your walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock was indescribable; hot, tight pleasure coursed through your body in waves as Peter found his rhythm. Fast. Fast rhythm. He fucked like a teenage boy, and you liked that – his bunny humps were deep and intentional, like the crimson head was trying to find the deepest point inside of you. Peter pressed his lightning-bolt patterned socks against the armrest of the couch, using it as leverage to push himself inside of you.

His cock made slick by your arousal, his hips moved against yours rapidly, hammering your cunt in a way that you physically thought impossible. In the darkness, you saw Peter smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual below him. Your tits bouncing underneath the shirt with each thrust, your eyes wide and lust-blown. His gaze dropped to them, watching, entranced. With your free hand, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to your collarbone and letting your breasts fall free. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered. 

Skates fast. Fucks fast. Cums fast. You thought, watching as his face contorted, his eyebrows knitting together, jaw dropping. His breaths came out in hurried little huffs as he pumped inside of you, filling your cunt with sticky, white heat. 

“Honey?” 

He froze. You froze. Stiffly, you turned your head towards the staircase, looking up into the darkness, petrified. 

“YEAH! YEah, mom, just… getting a drink!” You tried to keep your voice level, but there was something so inherently naughty about having a guy on top of you, his dick inside of you while you spoke to your mother. Your stomach was tight, muscles burning with the contraction. 

“Oh, okay! I thought I heard - I don’t know. I love you!”

“I love you too! Goodnight!”

Once the door clicked shut, and your head snapped back in Peter’s direction, who was still panting on top of you. Slapping his pectoral muscle hard, you mouthed go go go go! Naturally, before you’d finished the last ‘go’, Peter had pulled out and you were back in the safety of your bedroom before a drop of cum had time to leak from your swollen cunt. Back on your bed, your hair splayed out on the satin pillowcases. Peter was at your side, drawing circles on the exposed flesh of your stomach. 

“Did you uh -”

“No… I didn’t have a chance.” 

“Oh, uh… sorry about that. That happens a lot, y’know? Part of the whole speedster thing, I can’t always –” 

“Peter… shhh… it’s cute. It means you like me.” 

He pointed a finger at you, pushing his bottom lip into his top. “That… that is true. Hey. I have an idea.”

In the darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight that filtered in through the window, you saw Peter sink down to his stomach, resting between your legs. He moved both legs atop his shoulders, pulling you forward.

You felt a hot breath against your thighs, and whimpered. When a warm tongue licked between your wet folds, you moaned out, grinding your head back into the pillow. Peter slipped a single digit into your cunt gently, twirling his tongue around your clit as he did. He pumped it in and out a few times, feeling the way your cunt squeezed around him. Your wetness coated his finger, dripping down the length into his palm. 

You felt your cunt clenching, uncontrollably. Peter did too and withdrew his finger. His tongue flicked at your clit rapidly, the wet, slick sounds filling the quietness of the bedroom. His dark eyes flitted up to yours, watching every minute expression that flashed across your face. 

“S-slow down…” you whispered, not loud enough for him to hear. It was more of a desperate breath in the shape of the words. He didn’t hear you, and even if he had, he was far too busy burying his nose in your cunt, tasting your sweet fluids. His tongue lapped at your entrance and curled back towards his throat, swallowing. He groaned into her, the sound resonating through your core. 

“Peter… Peter!” You whispered harshly, gripping his head on either side. He didn’t budge, and his eyes drifted shut in ecstasy. Moving up to take a fistful of silver hair, you yanked him off your cunt, his reddened lips glistening and open, confused. His inky orbs looked up at you, dazed and desperate. 

“Whaaat?” he asked, a hint of annoyance tainting his usually upbeat voice. 

“Slow… down….” 

“Sorry but that’s not really… my…” He paused, looking at your weeping cunt again. “...thing. She doesn’t really look like she wants me to, either.” He reached forward, sweeping a single digit along the length of your pussy. You jerked, sensitive.   

“I can’t stand it, I’m gonna’ cum too quickly.” 

“Quick is in the name, babe.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if telling you that you were shit out of luck.

He dove back in, and picked up licking her again, from bottom to top. He was slightly slower than before – maybe he’d decided to have mercy on you. Or maybe he was just savouring the feeling of your cunt as it practically fluttered on his tongue, your clit throbbing with the sensitivity. You rocked your hips against his mouth, humping his pretty face with reckless abandon. It was the only control you had, because as soon as you started that, his tongue had returned to the speedy flipping of your clit.

You were going to cum – so fast that you hardly had time to process it. 

“Ffffuck… oh god,” you whimpered. Your cunt pulsed over and over again, and Peter was right there to feel it. He speared two fingers into her. Curled them upwards, feeling the clench of your orgasm as it came. He fucked you with his fingers until the throbbing stopped, and the first hint of overstimulation came – you whined, too loudly. 

Peter grinned, his slick fingers slipping from your pussy. With a mischievous little glimmer in his eyes, he observed them, watching as the thick, clear strands strung apart between his digits. 

You wanted to ask him on a date. He wanted to ask you on one. But neither of you said a thing. Neither of you said a thing, and just watched each other breathing, chests heaving, heavy with lust. Lookin’ cuter than she ever has… Peter thought, watching you in your post-coital state; sweaty and blushing. 

You knew you were going to be obsessed with him – were already obsessed with him. The high that you chased with skating was nothing compared to what you felt being around this silver dork, and all his little quirks.  

“So uh… same bat-time, same bat channel?” 

You chuckled. “Yeah, Peter. Yeah.” 

#Peter Maximoff #Peter Maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff x you #Quicksilver x you #Quicksilver x reader #myfics #X-Men Movies

[dungeonpuppykai]

Based on this mood prompt that @captregina told me to elaborate on. 

Warning(s): Power imbalance, misogynistic husband Steve, spanking, degradation, dumbification, panty sniffing, infantilization. Minors do not interact.  

Pairing: 40's breadwinner wallstreet worker husband!Steve Rogers | Housewife!You.

"I am sorry" Steve, your lawfully wedded husband, had to do a double take as he put down his work bag that you had refused to accept in your hands. "What was that, honey?" As you huffed and crossed your arms in response before putting one foot out and raising your chin up high, your newfound defiance caused him to raise a puzzled eyebrow at your smaller form. 

"You heard me" you hmphed out your words. 

"No" now it was Steve's turn to cross his massive arms -thanks to your hearty cooking and his knack for working out- across his broad chest as his sky blue eyes began to narrow down at your form. "I don't think I did" his head tilted to the side. It was a sign for you to stop; rethink your actions. "So tell me, dear. What was that, just now?" But you were beyond annoyed with him today. 

You had been for a while.

"Ugh, aren't men supposed to be smart?!" You rolled your eyes that he usually adored with his whole heart. "I said, reheat your own food!" Now his other eyebrow shot up to accompany its companion. 

Your husband had been at it for days and you just could not do it anymore. After you worked so hard all day long so you could spend some quality time with your hardworking husband who either had his nose buried in files or his ear glued to the telephone all day long, the man would show up late and tired at odd hours. Then he would expect you to understand -which you tried your best to but Lord you had needs too!-, reheat and ruin the food you always went the extra mile to prepare, eat with him while listening to him rant about things your domestic mind did not understand, then making him a drink with which he would watch tv and you would clean the kitchen before going to sleep cuddled up only to repeat the same day again! 

Sundays -the only days when he was free- were not much different because he would always have plans with his friends that were getting fancier by the day and though you liked the get togethers, they held no measure to some one on one time with your dear husband! 

Steve's fingers flew to your wrist before wrapping around it to pull you back and towards him when you went to stomp away to the bedroom. "Where do you think you're going?" 

"To bed, obviously!" He was in disbelief when you went to yank yourself free. Good girls didn't turn their backs to their husbands. "Let go, I am done!" You refused to slave for someone who did not care for your requests even after you had communicated your feelings so many times at this point. 

Your husband snorted. "And since when can you decide what happens around here, honey?" 

"I am deciding for myself! You can do whatever you please like you do anyways!" He did not appreciate your tone. 

"Come on, baby" your strength was no match to your husband's so you could not make him budge much. "I know why you're acting out, but I already told you why this is so important for us and our future" he got you to turn around rather easily despite your struggle. "Don't you remember?" Cradling your pretty face in his hands he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs tenderly. "Or has your little brain forgotten that already?" 

You pouted, not in the mood to cooperate. "You can secure your future however you desire, Steve" he was so used to you calling him by affectionate endearments that the use of his name stung like an insult. "But I am done with working hard all day long and staying up past bedtime for nothing!" You had hated chores with a passion before marriage as it was. "Since you're oh-so-big and smart I am sure you can figure out how to reheat your dinner!" 

"Hey now" his eyebrows furrowed as the movement of his thumbs ceased. "Watch that tone, little girl" you were hanging by a thread but you were far too irritated to care. 

"You watch your tone!" Your fingers curled around his to try and pry them off. "And let me GO!" Another huff escaped you as your eyes hit the back of your head to express your annoyance.

"You really wanna do this right now, young lady?" Steve had made it very clear when he was courting you that he did not like any of your sassy little habits.

Talking back, complaining, pouting, huffing, stomping around, disobeying, eye rolling and misbehaving.

"I just wanna go to bed, ugh!" 

"Okay, you did this" your body had been hurled over one of his shoulders within the next second and while it thrashed in his hold, Steve easily walked over to the couch with one protective hand draped over your ass that he was determined to bruise now.

"Ugh– OWIE!" One of your legs kicked in protest and pain when his palm struck your clothed ass cheeks. "Stop, you meanie brute!" Your husband grunted under his breath as he steeled your knees in his hold before draping you over his lap. 

"I should have known" both your cheeks received a spank each in quick succession. "It has been a while since your last maintenance session, hasn't it, baby?" You went to retort with something petty in response but the bratty way in which you started gave him a good idea and so he cut it off with random strikes all over your poor butt. "Aw, honey, of course!" Your backside had already started to sting like hell so when he yanked your panties off before pushing the hem of your dress up to your waist, you couldn't help but whine. "Your little girl brain forgot, didn't it?" The way he caressed your cheeks caused you to gulp for your sake. 

"O- Ow… stop!" But that only made him raise his hand high to finally administer the first of many skin-to-skin spanks to come. 

"Silly girl thinks she can tell her husband to stop" the hits were becoming more frequent by the second, your husband was settling on a rhythm. "Or tell him to do anything, really!" Your ass was blushing already and your pucker blinked up at him with each strike. Steve could not help but bite his lip at the sight but he knew discipline came first. It always did. He could not afford a mouthy brat for a wife. "Such an ungrateful little thing I've here" your hips tried to scurry left and right so Steve placed the elbow of his free hand between your shoulder blades before ceasing the side of your body facing away from his own until you were so sore you caved. 

"I am sorry, oh my God, hubby, I am sorry!" A satisfied smile spread across his handsome features and his chest puffed outwards in pride. 

"I am sorry, I couldn't quite get that over the sound of brat, honey" his palm was still unrelenting as he went about further reddening your sorry butt. "Why don't you try a bit louder and more convincing now?" It was a rule in your household; you had to mean your apologies. 

Your back arched as you whined in frustration, hanging from his legs limp and resigned to your fate. "I am sorry, dear! I really am!" Your moans morphed into wails when he began to target your sit spots every few hits. "I am sorry for– owwwiee!" Your toes curled when a particular smack caught your pucker in it. "... F- For being ungrateful and n- not appreciating my husband's hard work and sacrifices for us and our future babies!" 

"That's right" he made a point of sitting you upright and right on your sore ass. "And why do you think that was?" 

You whimpered submissively as you lowered your head, unable to hold his authoritative gaze in this state. "B- Because my mind i- is too small to understand or remember such things for too long, hubby" reaching for the hand he had used to punish you, your fingers cradled the crimson palm. "But thanks to you sacrificing your hand for my well being after already working so hard all day long, my small brain has had its much needed reminder that you only mean well" looking up briefly to press an appreciative kiss to his cheek, you squeezed his hand. "Thank you for setting me straight, hubby" the most smug smile etched on his face.

"Oh, sweetie, that's completely fine" Steve's tone was tender but it switched up into an intimidating one briefly, "although mind that I did not appreciate it one bit" when you lowered your head further with a snivel, he continued but in a reassuring manner. "But of course, you're just a girl, aren't you?" 

You nodded wordlessly without looking up. 

His hand snaked out of yours to dip between your legs, the blunt action causing you to gasp aloud. "Tsk, look at all this mess, honey" your face became hot in an instant and your teeth pulled your bottom lip between them. "So worked up from your punishment, hm?" His face dipped closer to yours and you couldn't help but mewl shyly as you buried your face in his shoulder. "Is that why you were so frustrated? Because you weren't getting the kind of attention that you needed from hubby?" You nodded. He clicked his tongue. "Does my little girl also need to be reminded of the rule about verbally responding when spoken to, sweetie?" 

Oh, yes.

The house rules. 

Magnetized to the refrigerator.

"N- No, hubby. I- I remember…" Your eyes focused on his tie and you began to loosen it like you were supposed to after receiving his bag when he got home. 

"Good girl" your eyelids fluttered at the way he kissed your cheek, lovingly caressing the inside of your thigh. "So, tell me, honey. Was that so?" 

"I- It was, hubby" now you relieved him of his first few buttons. "J- Just need you so bad all the time… C- Can't think straight without you…" Steve had a shit eating grin on his face at this point. His ego -and something else- was so inflated that he did not even care about chastising you for your much forbidden actions tonight any longer. 

"Go serve hubby his warm dinner and he'll consider" you obediently jumped to your feet in an instant and bustled to the kitchen with such speed that you didn't even remember to take your discarded panties with you. 

Steve nodded to himself as he watched the way you had disappeared, pulling free the rest of his tie knot himself as he stood up with your underwear in his hand. "Now that's about right." With a deep sniff of the moist article, he walked off in the direction of the bedroom to freshen up.

MASTERLIST

Let me know what you think, feedback is much appreciated <3 

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #captain america #marvel mcu #steve rogers x y/n #marvel smut #mcu smut

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

HAL, HEAR ME OUT !!! ghost coming home to wis wife on Easter, he thought he wouldnt manage to come back home in time, but Price dismisses him earlier, so he decides to surprise her by making a egg hunt for her, something she always said she liked to do when she was little, I KNOW THIS IS A SPECIFIC REQUEST, FEEL FREE TO DENY DEARIE, i just really love easter loool (and simon too)

love ur works, hal ❤

A Good Man

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Self-deprecating thoughts, allusions to Simon's past & trauma, delving into his psyche, angst, but a lot of fluff, Simon's POV

A/N: I knew I had to get this out before Easter actually came around so here it is early, Anon! This was an adorable request. Enjoy and have a happy holiday! <3

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

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it. 

Skin shredded; showing every tear and rip with a thinly veiled sense of pride along with a detailed description of every bullet wound and burn. Rope tears along the forearms and red stab marks over the visible spine of his back. Tattoos that depict skeletons and war. He couldn’t tell you every life he had ended, but he could name names until his tongue went black and fell off; though he spared you the details. 

Simon Riley was a devil incarnate. Dead-eyed and robust of body. Muscles wound with promised death and the trigger finger to prove it. His life was measured in an hourglass, the sand cascading down like the blood from his knife after a kill; it would stop flowing, one day – abrupt and final. Simon Riley was a demon, a monster. Simon Riley was a Ghost. 

A ghost with an impeccable memory and a deep love for the woman currently on the living room couch. 

The man blinks, slate eyes taking in the steady rise and fall of your chest with a slow melting of his shoulders. He had a doubt that you had planned to fall asleep with the Tv on – or the floor lamp, for that matter. 

Its golden light slipped over your form, and he traced the flow of it as the voice of the news anchor went in one ear and out the other. Gradually, a hand slipped to the balaclava over his head as your lips let loose a grumble, nose nuzzling the feather pillow. 

Simon often found himself watching you sleep when he was home; how your face would lose all tension in those brief intermissions between oblivion and awakeness. When his own nights were restless, it helped to know that at least someone was at ease, especially if it was you. The fabric slips from his tired visage, the mess of blonde locks atop his head sticking this way and that; layered with the gleam of grease. As the black face-paint stains his sockets and spreads with a swipe of a stiff palm, the ever-constant cloud over his head peels back but for a brief moment of peace. 

His bag was still in the foyer, holding three months of dirty clothes and gear hostage in its zipped space; stained, and bloodied. The man himself wasn’t much better. 

It had been a long few months. 

Hooking the balaclava onto the belt of his cargo pants, Simon bends down on an achy knee, a grunt in his throat sounding off like a boar. Scarred fingers go to brush your cheek, though no words exit his mouth, no whispers of adoration. Just a glimmer in his eyes, a release of that furrowed line in the center of his forehead that seemed permanent these days. 

Staring, the faint twitch of his lips is the only tell at all that he was content at all, feeling your skin as a feather would slide over water. He takes down a breath.

There were few instances that Simon fully remembers from his childhood – most displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole – though there is one he refuses to lock away. His mother. He can’t help it, and before he can stop himself the words are spilling directly from his heart to his mouth. 

Hell, he really must be tired. 

“She’d of loved you, Sweetheart.” It’s like he’s startled by his own voice, head pulling back and walls going back up, but that delicate glimpse was enough. 

A gravel voice and manchester accent bleed together to form some piece of the puzzle that was his pure adoration for you; small cardboard cuts and divots that had been given over to create a picture. Simon Riley was a ghost, yes, the Ghost, but he was never that when he was home. 

He was just Simon to you.

Blue eyes study the small smile that blesses your face when the man runs his fingers into your hair and attentively separates knots; your body unconsciously molding to his touch. With a kiss on your forehead, Simon chooses to not wake you. It’s late, the man reasons, and he knows how hard it is for you to sleep when he’s gone. Almost as hard as it is for him when he can’t feel your weight on the opposite side of the thin mattress he’s cursed with in the barracks. 

Against his better judgment, he’d learned to love your contact; your presence next to him and the way you fit into his arms.

As gently as he’s able, the black ink of his tattooed arm slips under your shoulders, pushing between the cushion and your limp body to lie still. The other hooks around your knees, and with a pause to make sure you weren't going to wake up, Simon lifts you as easily as a piece of paper. Your weight lays comfortingly against his chest, shallow breath hitting his neck and he thinks for a moment just how it was possible to love something more than you can love anyone else that came before. 

“Simon…” Your voice brings goosebumps to his forearms, his fingers tightening over the shirt he now recognizes as his own clothing you. A smirk runs over his face. 

Lips caress his pulse, a nose taking in his scent of canvas and sweat; a tinge of barely restrained corruption, a soul more damaged than a window shattered into a million pieces.

How can you stand it? How could your body instinctively lay into him and give redemption willingly? 

Simon grips you ever closer, using his own body heat to lull you back to oblivion. He didn’t have an answer – probably never would – but that didn’t mean he wasn’t forever grateful. 

But he was a stiff man; a stoic one. 

He slips through the bedroom door, navigating in the dark as if his eyes had built-in night vision, and hums out, “it’s me. Go on – back to sleep now, Love.” 

Air communes with a soft grunt, and Simon watches from the side of his vision as your lids flicker open and closed. As desperate as the fight is, it’s over fairly quickly when he lowers you to the sheets, cupping your head and setting in on the pillow. 

Soft fingers wrap his lower arm, and with trapped breath, Simon watches your lips connect to the pale skin of his wrist before your form once more goes slack; ever the stubborn one to greet him even half-gone. Weak mumbles stuck forming ‘welcome home’ and ‘love you’ on a lead tongue garble to nothingness like a gargoyle’s stone speech. 

“Hmm.” The Lieutenant smirks as the area tingles, preening like a bird. There are many things to say to you, but he settles with a mumbled, “Don’t hog the sheets. Gotta go take care of the mess first, copy?” 

You don’t answer, of course. With a delicate pet on your head, Simon exits the room silently to take a shower and organize his gear; closing the door behind him only halfway so he can still keep an eye on you as he passes. Ever the neat partner, he wouldn’t go to sleep until all were in their proper places – clothes in the washer, knives and various licensed weapons in the nightstand, and paperwork in the office. 

There was a sanctity in this. A way to get rid of the lingering adrenaline of being on Base or in the field – deterioration of the mind but in such a way it would be described as a boil to a simmer. 

All of it is uneventful. 

He enters the kitchen with only a white towel around his waist sometime later, flicking on the lights and running his fingers through his damp hair before bee-lining to the fridge. If there needed to be a list made of the things he loved the most, it would be fairly short – only three. 

One, you, two, the adrenaline rush of a good deployment, and, finally, your food.  

Simon would listen to Johnny’s rambling for days if it ended with an excellent heaping plate of whatever you cooked for supper.

Opening the fridge, the man’s eyes widen, shimmering with azure glass.

“Fuckin’ hell, Sunshine,” he breathes to himself, hand reaching inside the box with fervor, “you’ve been busy, then, eh…? Bloody feast in ‘ere.” 

The Lieutenant drags out a heaping plate of steak and potatoes – a side of greens covered in plastic and a sticky note on top. 

‘Save for Simon.’ 

The food didn’t look older than a day or two…did you save him some of your meals every once and a while just in case he would show up?

He grunts, re-reading your chicken scratch with a swelling of his chest and a foreign heat on his cheeks. Simon moves to the oven, preheating it and placing a cooling rack on a metal pan over parchment paper. Damned if the man would mess up your masterpiece; he’d reheat it properly. 

With minimal noise, he waits for the meat to be done and settles on placing the potatoes in the microwave with the greens for time's sake. Standing in the kitchen, his eyes gradually fall closed, their weight heavy. But his ears perk at the faint pitter-patter of bare feet. 

The sneaking arms around his waist don’t startle him, and with a sigh on his lips, Simon feels you melt into the curve of his open skin. A head connecting with his spine. 

“Thought I brought you back to bed?” He whispers, flesh melding to you like hot iron, a scarred hand resting over the one that’s on his abdomen. 

Your nose nestles into the burns over his back, and even if you couldn’t see it – the sudden sweep of vulnerability is nearly heard. You lay a kiss and think no more of it, but Simon shivers with beautiful agony; eyes gazing off.

“...Erm,” you groan, fingers tracing the build of his ribs, “needed to hold you.” Your breath stills – half-asleep. “You’re…here?”  

Simon chuckles, hearing it echo off the walls.

“I’m ‘ere, Love. Few more bloody cuts,” he breathes, “but I’m here.” 

“Good. Missed you.” A second of kisses and distant blue eyes. Muffled yawns into his flesh. “Didn’t think you’d be back in time for Easter.” 

Simon twists, aware of the delicate fold of his towel, and lifts your fatigued form onto the counter, settling you down so you don’t fall sideways. He blinks down at you, cupping your cheek when your neck gets too heavy to hold up. Your lids rapidly move, your nose scrunched at the overhead light and the man knows you’re only awake because he’s home. 

He utters out to you, faces close, “The Old Man let me off early,” and lays a peck to your forehead, holding his lips there for a long second. Mutters into your skin, “prickly bastard’s been antsy – hasn’t had a good drink in weeks. Was about ready to strangle someone.”

She’s warm.

His body slots itself between your legs, one arm around your back and the other placed on the counter. Simon’s forehead falls to your shoulder, and with a groan of satisfaction, he feels your fingers go through his locks; itching at his scalp dreamily. 

“...Dunno whether to thank him or send ‘em to a therapist.” You whisper, kissing his neck, unable to keep your hands off each other for a mere second. 

“Better to place money on the both.” His grumbled words are barely heard. “I’ve got two weeks ‘fore they need me back.” 

A soft hum is all he gets before the timer goes off and he takes down a breath, forcing himself to peel back from you and grab his supper. 

By the time the both of you are in bed, he’d nearly forgotten about your comment, and as he stroked your hair and felt you bring him closer under the covers, he remembers. He’d asked Price to give him two weeks on account of the holiday you’d loved so much – Easter – and had used the Captain's deteriorating attitude as a pry. It had been easy enough, the two had known each other for a long time. They knew their breaking points. 

Sometimes living around a handful of other men formed unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, and while that was true for 141, it was also a pain in the ass. People long for home at the end of it – a soft touch and sweet kisses. There’s only so long you can go with yelling orders into the same faces and playing Poker in a shitty safehouse.

Simon never thought he’d be worthy of it, a home, but here he is regardless and here he would stay. And he knew Easter was your favorite time of the year, and he also knew that Easter was…tomorrow. His dead eyes widened. 

The plan formed quickly, his strategic mind helping as it always does, and as he snuck out of bed and laid his lips to yours in a tiny kiss, a shirt was tossed on along with boxers. You never heard the door to the garage door opening, just snuggled back up to the pillow and an old t-shirt he’d placed in his spot instead; inhaling his calming scent.

—

When the sun had risen an hour ago and Simon had finished with heavy fingers. Groaning, the back of a hand meets a forehead, trying to swipe away sleepiness as one would a fly. But he says nothing, feet hitting the floor as he enters the kitchen, an object held in his palm that was quickly stashed in the breadbox.

This was childish, he knew, not at all like the deadly Lieutenant of TF-141. Like Ghost. The boys would tease him relentlessly if they found out.

“Simon…?” Your voice draws him back, and with a look over his shoulders, he finds you wrapped in the comforter like a mouse. “What are you doing out here?” 

The lie comes easily.

“Fixin’ breakfast.” Your eyes flicker to the open breadbox, eyebrows furrowing. A smirk grows and you walk over with a laugh living in your expression. 

“I don’t even trust you to toast bread, Love, go sit down. You’ve been stuck on rations for too long.” Simon only steps back, gazing over your head and seeing your hand pause. “I’ll make us some…” 

He watches as he loves to do, memorizing the parting of your lips and the recognition lighting like a shy fire. The man smiles then, and it is a delicate thing; an expression not tainted with sarcasm or deception. 

Your hand delves into the box and pulls out a plastic egg softly as if it would snap in two. 

It’s cheap, made of thin plastic and fading in colors of the shade of pastel pink. Chipping. There’s nothing inside of it, just a bare piece of holiday joy that never meant too much to anyone beyond children. But with how you’re staring up at him, Simon thinks all the searching in the bins from the garage was worth it. 

“What’s this?” Your voice wraps him close, and your hand holds the object close. Simon shrugs, digging deep into your vision. 

“I’ve the faintest idea, Sunshine.” The giggle flies to his cold heart and he pulls you to his chest to still the raging of it. “My guess,” he raises a stiff brow, “intruder broke in, yeah?” 

“Did this intruder have ears and a pink nose?” You ask, noses brushing. “A hop in his step, maybe?” 

“Hell if I know,” Simon grunts, eyes flickering away before he can break before you. “Best get my gun just in case – you’ll ‘ave to find the rest ‘o the bastard things, though.”

You kiss him then, and he captures the back of your head, holding you to him as if you’d disappear if he let go. He doesn't know what you did to possess him so, to make his thoughts be only of you even when he’s halfway around the world. Were you an angel? A shred of light made physical? Perhaps an embodiment of all the good in the universe? 

Simon had no answer, as he usually did when it came to you, and you sighed into him, whispering redemption to his soul. 

You said you loved him, and he said it back with every ounce of him that was untouched by death. And then you pulled from him with a laugh that could throw away darkness and disappeared with promises of finding the remaining eggs. Like a loyal hound of hell, Simon followed, pulling on the comforter to slow you down so you don’t trip. He would always follow.

The vision of a good life starts with a view of the present. Who you choose to care about; how you make meaning of nothing but a shared morning and a memory of youth. Simon does not remember much of his childhood. Most of the memories are displaced in the back of his mind with a barbed wire fence and a door with no keyhole. Cast away. 

Coated in fear and lies.

Some days he asks how he can still call himself Simon Riley – it’s the name of a dead man, after all…and then he looks at your beaming face, and his question is answered as fast as it was thought up. 

You deserve Simon Riley, not Ghost. Not a devil incarnate or Dead-eyed. A demon, or a monster. If there was even a shred of purity left in him, that was what he knew beyond doubt. 

Simon Riley was selfish, he admitted, and he was loathed to leave you…so here he would stay. Hiding easter eggs and giving veiled hints when you were close to one near the planted flowers in the backyard. There was a simplicity that the man bathed in – the blatant enjoyment of a plain life. 

With a chuckle in the back of his throat, Simon pushes off the back porch and makes a comment about how you were closer to the dead bird you had buried in the garden bed than an egg. A flick of your middle finger leaves him smirking, and he splays a hand over your back, angling your body farther north. The kiss left on his stubbled cheek makes him warmer than he wants to admit; cold eyes soften.

If such a thing as a good man existed, Simon Riley knew he was not it…but he was trying to be damn near close. Until then, the ring he had bought would stay in his office.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @shoe1412, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @john-pricee, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce

#simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 fanfic #mw2 x reader #mw2 2022 #mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod fic #cod mw2 #x female reader #cod fandom #female reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw x reader #call of duty mw2 #ghost mw2

[xo-cod]

https://www.tumblr.com/xo-cod/729110250731520000/you-know-what-i-think-would-be-cute-if-one-of-the?source=share

will u expand on this pls?? esp w simon i love it it's SO CUTE🥰

thank you so much babe :") <33 i just did simon but i can def do the others if you'd like 🤍

continuation from here

cw: abusive past + fluff

"look daddy! that's like you and mum!" her soft laugh of happiness fills his ears and for a minute he just watches her, the shock plastered on his face and then he takes a glance at the tv again. the toys he was placing away in its rightful place was forgotten as he straightened his back, watching the disney characters. they seemed so happy, so in love.

he stood still for a minute, wondering if she was being genuine as he looks back to the little girl who was giggling at him. he didn't have a healthy childhood at home and even as he entered his adult life, nothing but blood, guns and wars surrounded him.

it took him by surprised that lieutenant ghost, the man who knew little to nothing about love and happiness and peace now had a wife and a baby who was growing up in the homes he always wished he could live in as a child.

the only romantic love he could see around him was the abuse his father put his mother through, watching the light dim from her eyes everyday was a sight simon didn't think he could ever forget.

there were some scars that were seared so deep, even after time had run its course the pain was still fresh as ever. he didn't think he would ever heal from the shackles that wrapped themselves so deeply around him, burdens that he had to carry day in and day out in his life all the time. even though being with you had significantly lessened them, there were still moments that made him question everything he ever knew.

so being a father was scary but so exciting. the nerves were bundled up deep inside him, utterly worried that he wouldn't be able to love the child like they deserved. he remembered the night he paced your hospital floor while you were sleeping, full of the medications they were giving. all he could do was helplessly look at you, his heart pounding at the bundle of joy soon to be arriving. could he love them? or did the trauma from his father run incredibly deep that he'd cower away and hide? they were irrational fears, he knew that much. but it didn't help either way, he wanted to be the possible father ever. but how could he do that when he was do broken from his own?

and then his baby was born and he almost gave out, trembling when he held her tiny tiny body in one arm as the hand of the other ever so gently caressed her head. he looked at you with shock, his big brown eyes tearing as he chuckles softly. that was a sight you'd never forget. a sight he could never either

"me an' mama huh?" he spoke softly, his gaze going from the tv to back to his daughter who nods eagerly at him. she's so happy, its enough to make him emotional. because of him, she was safe and loved. because of him, a man who thought he was too damaged beyond repair, had a child who completely adored him and was living happily

she would never know a life full of abuse and suffering, he would make sure of that

he would kill for her, die for her and everything in between yet even so the small niggling voice of doubt filled his head every damn day wondering if he was cut out to be a father. would he change tomorrow, become the abusive intoxicated asshole like the man raised him was? he grew up in a world full of pain and torture and guns, happy things were far and few between.

"you little munchkin, c'mere" he teased softly, holding her in his massive arms as they both cuddle close together. she shrieks in delight when he blows soft raspberries on her cheeks and kissing her forehead. and he only looks at his baby with a look of pure unconditional love, his smile widening at every happy sound she made. even if he never got the love he deserved as a child, the love he received from you and the baby you both created was enough for him.

it was times like this, moments that he cherished so close to his heart <33

#asks #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon riley x reader fluff #dad!simon riley x reader #dad!ghost #dad!simon riley