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bowieandqueen11 · 2 months

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We Need A New Lock / Sanji Imagine

Request: could you write a sanji x reader fic of them alone in reader's room? they always end up getting interrupted by someone just as they get close to kissing, and its torture for sanji because they just cant find a moment alone with each other, so he finally finds a way to be with her late one night where he can kiss her senseless uninterrupted. thank you!

First I just wanted to say, thank you so much everyone for your support as I recovered from my operation! I'm so happy to be here and writing again!

Okay but this is both super sweet and hilarious, I hope you don't mind I spread this out over the deck a bit, and changed it around a little bit for more fun ;)

Warning: slightly spicy, so 18+ please!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @islandofohara.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Try One: Nami

At try one, Sanji was four seconds away from ripping his hair out.

Poor, Sanji: the sweet cook had spent all of dinner service with his hands clenched tightly in his fringe, fistfuls of hair nearly tugged out and scattered among the Matcha Tiramisu he had spent a lonely, and tired morning dragging himself away from your warm embrace to make specially for you. Toiling, rolling, dusting cream and cocoa that he had spent the last handful of his berries trading for from the speciality trader in the markets of the Canopi Islands; he had squinted underneath the honey melt of the sun as it fell from its crest over the horizon as he whisked and whizzed and splattered dessert up to his elbows in his desperation to make sure the sweet treat would be ready before Luffy caught the scent of it.

Finding it too tempting not to toy with the cook, you tried to stifle your smirk as you nonchalantly placed a fist under your chin and feigned interest in whatever Nami was animatedly trying to chew over with you. Flitting your irises over until you made direct eye contact, you dragged the flat edge of your tongue up the back of the spoon, making sure to wet the edge of your thumb along the way.

At any other time, Sanji may have been beside himself with embarrassment. It wasn't the first time a member of the crew had teased him... or snarled at him... or chided him for his obvious endearment, but the sound of Nami's voice was drowned out by the pulsing rush of blood that flooded through your boyfriend's ears. His full concentration was centred solely on the way your teeth scraped over your fork: the content hum as you licked over your fingers like a serpent and nearly sent Sanji clambering onto the floor to beg for the ecstasy of your sin.

You had tried not to chortle, you really had: hiding your face behind the ledger Nami was leaning over the table to shove into your face, her accusing pointer finger jabbing at a new entry she had triple underlined in her familiarly baleful black strokes. She hadn't even noticed that Sanji was nearly crumpled on the floor, bowl lying abandoned by the sink as his love-struck eyes struggled to stay within his skull.

'3000 berries?! Seriously?', she shot a growingly outraged frown in your direction, clattering her fork onto the table so she could use her free hand to point accusingly towards a recovering Sanji, whose fingernails were almost shedding wood shards off the cabinet drawer as he tried to pull himself back up to a presentable looking stand. 'You let curly brows over there spend three thousand of our berries on a pair of new pyjamas for you?'

You shrugged hesitantly, crossing your legs under the table. Your skirt began to rise up, bunching towards your hip as you crossed your ankles. You shot a lingering glance out of the corner of your eye towards Sanji, hoping with all your might that he'd be too bashful to meet your eye. Instead, as Nami cried out in outrage, Sanji's gleeful eyes locked onto yours, and the poor man was forced to grab the wooden edge of his spoon out of the sink and bite into it with his teeth to stop himself from squealing right there and then in the kitchen.

Nami incredulously trailed her eyes between the two of you, a long-simmering jaded scowl tempering over her face. Finally noticing how Sanji was loosening his shirt collar and using a freshly washed baking tray to fan the heat rolling in volcanic waves off his body.

The cat burglar pushed her tongue against her cheek and inhaled sharply as she turned her attention back to you. 'How is that even possible?! Luffy's meat budget for the month costs less than that!'

'They're special, my dear Nami!', Sanji finally managed to pipe in, his voice sounding strangled as he plopped the tray back down next to his damp tea towel. He turned towards the two of you with a pained smile plastered on his sickly looking face.

'They're made of Agar-Agar flakes, and of course, only the finest dehydrated avocados in all of the East Blue for the finest gem in all of the seas.' Sanji cocked his head and winked at you mischievously. 'It was worth every berry for my delectable little sweet pea.'

Nami made a gagging noise into her orange juice, but Sanji just bit his bottom lip and came sauntering over to stand by your side.

Sanji's breath drew in sharply as you absentmindedly began to brush your pointer finger up and up: first tickling over the arm that came winding around your shoulder, before leaning back to trace the edge of his jaw line, your eyes drawn away from Nami's waving hands to gawk up at the unbuttoned gap between his shirt where his Adam's apple lay tautly.

Nami was about to throw her muffin at your head when she suddenly started, bolting straight upright. Leaning forward on her elbows, she squinted her eyes suspiciously at the way you were nearly falling off the dining table's bench to lean back and caress your boyfriend's face.

'Hold on... what do you mean Agar Agar? How can they be made of food...'

'Well', you snorted, trying to hide your face by pulling one of Sanji's heavy arms up and draping his heavy bicep in front of your crinkling eyes. 'They are edible-'.

'Melt in the mouth, in fact', Sanji chimed in audaciously, bending his spine over so he could press a few butterfly kisses over the top of your scalp.

Nami nearly shoved the table straight into your stomach in her desperation to clamber up and escape the two of you. 'Nope. Nope! Absolutely not. The two of you get out of here now, before I start pitching water over your heads.'

Try Two: Usopp

At try two, Sanji was three seconds away from kicking the door of its hinges in annoyance.

It had taken nearly all night for the two of you to get even these few seconds of isolation together, and yet Sanji still felt so woefully unprepared. His fingers stumbled as he clumsily tried his best to ignore how his pounding heart was almost playing leap-frog with his ribs; the tautening of his abdomen as he tried to pull his under-shirt over his head left exultant lacerations against his muscles. He had to work up the courage to turn and kiss you now, or he was going to keel over and pass out on the floor from his heart's anguish: brought to his knees by the one thing he could never escape: his soul’s serendipity.

Thankfully, you did the hard part for him.

He flushed at the sound of your feet pattering off your bed to echo through the shimmering walls towards him; he throat bobbed at the feel of your hand delicately winding round to finger at the Windsor knot choking his neck. He nearly cried out when you pressed your body flush against his back.

'My buttercup, if you keep pulling at that tie like that you'll have conked out before I've even got you to the bed.'

You could feel the desperation radiate off Sanji as he tilted his head back to try and watch you. Despite how tired he seemed, his dipping eyelashes roved almost hungrily over every aspect of you he could see, his hand coming up to slide over yours until you were bowered and anchored together in the storm.

'Well my honeyed heart', he almost made your breath hitch as he walked the two of you backwards, stopping only once the heavy weight of your bed swung against your knee pit. 'I suppose I'll just have to bring the bed to us.'

With a grunt that sounded suspiciously close to a puppy's whine, Sanji snapped you up within his arms and lifts you up to sit on the chained platform. Once you had regained your balance, you beckoned your pointer finger towards Sanji, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he came stumbling towards you, dragged forwards as if yanked by an invisible leash tied around his ankles.

'God, I missed you today', your boyfriend muttered, grabbing onto your shirt and nearly crawling into your skin like a man possessed. As your head hit the linen lining of the swing, the man did his best not to collapse his full weight onto you when he came crushing down on top of your abdomen: the only thing holding him up being the point of his elbows that pin your arms in place, and the jut of his knees as they 'accidentally' fall between yours and slide them further... and further open. 'If Luffy has me make cook up one more medium-rare steak for him I'm going to throw myself headfirst into the ocean.'

You snorted, burrowing your nose into the soft mound of flesh underneath his earlobe. He shivered when you teasingly pursed your lips and blew against the shell, before latching on with your teeth and nipping at the squishy skin. 'If you do, don't worry. I'll make sure to fish you out with a frog net.'

'Frog net? Frog net!' Sanji slowly lowered his body to rest his forehead against the curve of skin just above your breasts, trying to stifle his smile. 'Oh, my wounded heart! I hope you're only saying that because you're going to give me a kiss.'

'Actually, it's because you're so slimy', you teased, poking your finger into his hip. His groan echoed into your bone as he pulled your waist tighter against him.

The starved man exhaled, his arms tightening around your waist; he was hiding himself away in your safety, trying to burrow himself underneath your skin like an ensnared goldcrest flying fruitlessly, dangerously, with harrowing hope for the propitious freedom wrought only by the sun.

Sanji made an incomprehensible gargle that sounded something vaguely along the lines of: 'Eye wansh kisch ewe so mphly.'

'What was that, buttercup?'

'I want to kiss you so badly', Sanji whimpered, his warm tears soaking through to your shoulders.

He was so soft. God always so soft, and as he lay before you now, you could almost imagine how sweet he must have been before his father cruelly tried to stifle it with cruel mockery and torturous punishments. So soft, so calm, so comforting, as he peered up at you with those wonderous eyes; his attention was always drawn back to you: so trusting, no matter what you said or did. Always. Just looking at you with this almost timeless intensity. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, to want to spend his whole life caught in the light of the most translunary being he’s ever met.

You stroked your palm through the tangling strands of hair by the nape of his neck, letting your voice fall to a whisper in order not to startle Sanji any further. 'Well, you are my sweet prince after all. You can kiss me whenever you want.'

The cook's reply was muffled by a swift knock against the doorframe.

'Hey, is everything okay? I'm hearing some weird noises coming from in here... are you guys in trouble? I know those Marines on Karushi Island were pretty annoyed when Y/n tossed them backwards over their butts-'

His perturbed question was met only by a deafening groan, followed by the pillow Sanji picked up and flung hitting the porthole window with a crashing PLASH.

Usopp flinched back, instinctively reaching towards his belt to run his fingers over the solid oak of his slingshot. 'Okay, be brave. Be brave, Captain Usopp. Your friends may be in danger! They may-'. Usopp's words quickly died on his tongue when he cautiously tip-toed open the door to the boy's quarters. In fact, his tongue nearly rolled out of his jaw as his lips slackened, blubbering like a pufferfish at the sight of Sanji almost draped across you. A half-naked Sanji.

He clapped his hands over his eyes, and nearly tossed himself over the edge of the ship with how rapidly his legs were wheeling themselves backwards. 'I'm so sorry you guys! I didn't know you were- well you were, you know- boinking in ther-.'

SLAM.

The swift silence that settled over the room should have been reassuring. Should have been. If only it hadn't been followed by the confused wails from the sharpshooter as he lolled out flat against the floor: the tip of his bandana scraping underneath the toe of Sanji's shoe where it was splayed out over the edge of the bed.

Sanji just sighed like a weary father, taking one hand off your cheek to slap it over his eyes with a curt shake.

'You snuggle up here and stay warm, sweetheart. I'll go get Chopper.'

Try Three: Luffy

At try three, Sanji was busy spending his spare two seconds trying to work up the nerve to just... leap across the room to where you were standing and kiss you silly.

'Okay', Sanji folded himself against the door and started counting distractedly on his fingers. 'I've given the Captain three plates of meat, so that should distract him for a little while: I've also hidden cookies along the deck, and stuffed a few mint infused lamb shanks in the Crow's Nest. Hopefully he'll go and bother moss head for a bit instead of annoying-'

A ringing crash made the two of you wince as your poor bedroom door got another battering; this time, the handle nearly cleft a hole clean in the wall as Luffy's leg came barging sandal first into the room.

He couldn't sleep... so your Captain had the fortuitous idea of seeking out the next best thing: hugs from you.

'Y/n, there you are! I ran out of meat, I need you to rub my tummy so I can nap! I tried asking Zoro, but he kicked me off the Crow's Nest!'

Before you could even open your mouth to protest, Luffy's stretchy arms have latched onto the edges of the door and he's flung himself into the room like a Hawaiian clad cannonball. Sadly, one that had been directly configured to launch into you: headfirst, nonetheless.

'Damn it Luffy - nO!'

A look of pure terror widened your eyes as you were skidded butt-first across the floor by a mop of curly black hair and a Cheshire grinning face. A crushing weight piled onto the side of your face, and despite how much Sanji curses and tries to detach Luffy's arm from your waist, your Captain's smushed face doesn't even lift an inch off your cheek.

'Oh, Sanji! You're here too! Even better!'

Then koala mode is activated, and Luffy's legs and arms come wrapping around you... and poor Sanji's like a cocoon. The helpless cook goes flying through the air like a contorted puppet blasted out of a wonky cannon.

Oblivious as always, your Captain settled down between the two of you for his pre-sleep nap, effectively trapping pining you and a love-struck Sanji a foot away from each other. Within a blink of an eye Luffy's head lolled onto your shoulder, and you frowned as you tried to shuffle away from the thin lines of drool that dripped out of his snoring mouth. As if he could sense you moving, Luffy's arms tightened like a vice around your waist, winding another few extra times around for good measure.

After a few minutes of wriggling, some muted swearing, and a lot of shoving the toe of his boot into the side of an unaware Luffy's shin, Sanji finally managed to wrangle his hand to snake around the rubber man's bellybutton so he could link his pinkie finger with yours.

Trying your best not to to block your nostril, you shuffled your cheek to the side until you could meet your boyfriend's sorrowful eye.

Despite your circumstance, all you did was smile.

God- that smile: bright enough to alight the dusk. As piercing and ruinous as pure golden sunlight. As devastating as the fresh warmth of a salt wind borne onto the stifling heat of a forgotten crag. And it makes everything in his life up to this moment worth something. Worth it all.

All the tortures in the world would be worth it to just link pinkies with you.

Try Four: Zoro

At try four, Sanji was one second away from hoisting his crewmates over his shoulder and flinging them overboard one by one.

There was something incredibly unsexy about banging your head against a pair of Zoro's sweaty hand weights, but as Sanji pounded you to the ground, neither of you seemed to be able to muster the nerve to care.

'Sanji', you moaned almost lewdly, tugging his back and silently willing him down to cage your body against the coarse, sweaty mat. 'More. Please. More.'

His cheeks burned an almost violent carmine, but he refused to break contact; only for one sole second did his skin leave yours, when he couldn't contain the gut-wrenching want within himself anymore and dared to brush the plush top of his lip against the side of your nose.

'I- I want-'

You pressed your cheeks firmly against his, willing Sanji to believe every sweet word that you couldn't stop from gushing out of your mouth.

You stopped, panting for breath. 'Tell me sweetie - tell me what you want. Let me hear you say it.'

His body squeezed around yours, the so usually syrupy sweet cook clenching his fingers into the meat of your spine like a savage animal shaken loose from its wrought iron chains: like an unbottled tempest with nowhere left to rage except over the bearing flames.

'Please! Please - hngg, I can't, I can't. I need you. I can't hold myself back any longer.' His words sounded so painful it sent a jolt of worry through your heart.

And yet when he pressed his nose flatly against your own, so forcefully crushing his own skin against your own it nearly left you gasping for breath, there was still such a sweetness in it. Despite it all, despite how strenuously Sanji was trying to hold back that final band of constraint from snapping, his first and foremost priority would always be your wellbeing.

'I'm sorry- I'm sorry my chérie, but I need to feel you more than I need air.'

The gasping, open mouth kiss he gave you was only repeated: crashing down again and again against your own, tongue slashing with ravenous hunger over your bottom lip and clumsily leaving wet stripes of warm saliva against your cheek as Sanji devoured you. The meek, almost pitiful whimpers as he ducked his head into the curve of your shoulder blade as he grinded himself against you, effectively trapping you between the ground and the clench of his quivering thighs marked the interludes of his feast. His lips trembled as he sighed blissfully, holding the tide back as his free hand sweetly ran its knuckles up the side of your leg, stopping only when his thumb was pressed closely enough to your inseam that he could run miniature circles underneath the growing wetness of your pants.

At the sound of your shaking moan, his front teeth dug in so tightly to his bottom lip that he drew blood.

It scared you. You wanted him to do it again.

'Sanji, I said more.'

The claw of his hand as he swiped at your shirt, not caring that he almost sent a tower of Zoro's sweaty old shirts flying in his own desperation to tug yours off was his only reply. The almost achingly gentle restrain as he placed his right hand against your hip and tried to hold you in place: tried to warn you that if he started, he wasn't sure if all his pent-up yearning would allow him to stop. The sweat nearly dripped across his furrowed eyes, caking the wispy strands of his fringe against his bucking forehead as he willed himself to calm down. His eyes stung, but despite your desperate clawing up towards his shoulders, he forced his breathing to settle.

But by all the seas... as he peeked one eyelid open and saw the line of tantalising skin grow wider down your rising breast, all semblance of self-restraint fled from the near drooling cook's brain.

The feel of Sanji's lips dragging down your neck to nip at your pulse point was interrupted by the sound of a quiet c-r-a-c-k.

You peeked your head, too far gone to swim fully out of your daze. With your arms still wrapped firmly around the wide expanse of Sanji's contracting back, you jutted your chin into the constellation line of freckles by his left shoulder blade. 'Did you hear something?'

'Just the sound of this', he smiled, smoothing his hand off your hip and sliding it underneath your buttocks. He gave you a firm squeeze that left your mouth dropping open in a shocked pant as he lifted you further up against his abdomen and pressed your breasts firmly against his pecs: he was effectively cupping you up against him like a clingy, very drenched, koala bear.

This time though, the sound of something splintering was far too egregious to ignore.

The force of the door handle slamming into the wall of the Crow's Nest nearly made the whole ship shake in revulsion; the cool air against your skin was nearly too much to bear, but the raging heat that sparked out from the looming shadow enveloping the door was enough to make your whole body break out in goose bumps.

'Can you two stop making out around the ship for two seconds.'

Sanji growled, whipping his head round to sulk at the ship's swordsman.

'Can you mind your own business for even one, Marimo?'

The former bounty hunter ostentatiously held a finger up by slowly raising it into air, and it took you a second to realise he’s pointedly showing Sanji his middle finger.

'Zoro, did you- did you just break the lock?'

'What's your problem? I left my gym towel in here.'

#one piece #one piece imagine #sanji #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla #opla imagine #zoro #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #luffy #nami #usopp

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pinkmirth · 6 months

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⸻ 𝑃ℛℰ𝒮ℰℛ𝒱ℰ!

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ the belmont family has endured for centuries, and it’s now up to richter to keep it going strong. there’s only one way to ensure the expansion of his bloodline, and it’s simple; knocking you up.

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 6k+ words of . . . ) richter belmont x fem!reader, canon-divergent, set in the 18th century (1700s), nsfw/smut, porn with very little plot, established relationship, size difference, nipple play, handjob, panty-ripping, p-in-v, heavy breeding kink, many mentions of pregnancy, missionary, tummy bulge, lotus position, creampies, richie’s a bit cocky (when is he not!), use of pet names (e.g. darling, love, good girl, rich, richie . . .), richter calls reader a ‘ cockslut ’ once, explicit language, lowercase intended, black coded, minors shoo!

𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ after binging castlevania (nocturne), i instantly fell for that gorgeous man richter & his baby blue eyes >< he’s got a sharp mouth, a pretty face, and nice biceps– of course i’m in love with him! i just had to whip up somethin’ for my favorite belmont (dunno why, but i heavily believe their clan is crazy about breeding hmm) this was supposed to be an itty bitty drabble, but it ended up much longer than i thought it’d be . . . and might i warn you that this is mostly just sappy, nasty filth. now, please enjoy this smutty piece of work for richie! ❤︎

richter has made the renard household your favorite place on earth. more specifically, you’re fond of his homey bedroom. it’s got this olde charm to it, and a wide glass window with french-pinewood framing; one that offers a pleasant view of the grassy fields and neighboring stream that surround the cottage.

over anything else, his bed is surely the best part of it all. there’s a fluffy duvet in that dusty-blue color he likes, one so large that it covers his long legs even when they tangle between yours. the quilted mattress has just the right amount of space for two lovers, and is comfy enough to keep you warm throughout the night, considering the chance you might stay over.

though, there is a downside, as nothing can be perfect— it creaks far too much when he fucks you.

it’s not often that the both of you can make good use of that bed of his, especially when the noise makes things terribly obvious. you wouldn’t dare attempt anything improper in richter’s room with his adoptive family just a brief set of steps away.

there's a time for everything, but not that he cares. you try paying no mind to richter’s lingering touches along your waist, and how he mischievously dives underneath your bottoms to grab at the fat of your ass with a wicked grin; all as his aunt tera boils porridge and beans by the stovetop downstairs. you’re sure he finds joy in the risk, or more in provoking you.

it’s only when the house is empty, apart from you and richter and nothing else, that you can have your fun. like now, for instance. it’s out of pure luck that tera decided to pay a visit to the farmer’s market, and for maria to tag along with her mother as well. they mentioned something about wanting to buy the best of what the early-autumn harvest had to offer, with the meats being juiciest and the produce fresher than it’s been all year.

you believe that’s why richter’s got so much stamina— the plenty of food he’s been scarfing down lately. or, possibly, it could just be him . . . nothing but him, and his unexplainable belmont genes that make him fucking superhuman. he swears he’s normal, but the way he picks you up with such ease as soon as his family steps out the door can only be deemed as unnatural.

he's quick to sweep you off your feet, in the most abrupt way he can, of course. richter grins over the way you squeal as he whisks you past the kitchen, ‘round the table, and down the corridor. his hands work at keeping you upright, palms firmly planted under your thighs. he carries your weight like that of a feather and doesn't break a sweat. but considering where he’s headed, straight to his bedroom, that’ll soon change.

“don’t go getting all surprised on me,” richter voices a lighthearted whisper. he kisses the part of your neck that he can manage to reach from above the collar of your blouse, “you know what we do once we have the place to ourselves.”

“you snatched me off the ground without notice, i’ve all the right to be surprised— ohmygod, richter!” you sputter out a laugh, with his mouth on your flesh being so ticklish. you can feel his lips curving upwards, taking the shape of a smile. your arms fling around the back of his neck like second nature, fingers carding through his fluffy brunette hair. with zero patience, as always, richter kicks the door in with the shallow heel of his leather thigh-boot, slips into the room with you still in his arms, and shuts it closed by pressing you up against it.

he was right about one thing— once tera and maria leave, this is exactly how it goes. clothes are torn off with haste (mostly on richter’s end, as you could imagine), heated kisses are exchanged, and he spits the nastiest words with that sharp mouth of his in order to get you all worked up. the night sky and moonshine from the window gives his room this subtle tone of blue, but he makes you feel red-hot.

richter keeps you right where he wants you; held up by his unfiltered strength, with your back to the door. one moment, he’s drawing closer to you, raking over every detail of your face with nothing but admiration swirling in his eyes. by the next, his lips are moving languidly against yours, slightly unruly yet undeniably passionate. you wouldn’t dare admit how much of a damn good kisser he is. the man’s ego would fucking skyrocket.

though, you really don’t have to tell him anything. the way you reciprocate his affection says it all. he breaks away for a sparing moment, but not before bringing his tongue across your bottom lip in one playful swipe. it’s light, teasing, and completely of his nature.

“i can see it in your eyes, y’know.” richter chuckles at how you lean forward to chase after the warmth of his lips again. he brings you to your feet so he can slip off his fingerless gloves and undo any harnesses. he then crouches a bit to unzip his boots.

“see what?” you airily huff, haphazardly undoing button by button on your blouse until it’s completely open. similarly, he begins to make quick work of his top. you enjoy the flexure of his biceps as he pulls them out from the sleeves of his cerulean blue blazer-vest that he drops once free of, allowing it to scatter to the ground. you catch onto its emblem; the belmont crest, neatly embroidered upon the breast-pocket.

“how much you want this,” richter peers down at you, eyes gleaming the prettiest tint of blue. “it’s cute, how obvious you are.” his upper half is bare, and the smooth canvas of his chest is all can focus on while he closes in on you. you’re trapped between the sturdy door and his heated body, and you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“you’re practically salivating over the thought of getting fucked, yeah? bet you wouldn’t mind if i took you right here.” he grins as he says it, staring unashamedly at how cleavage pools from your brassiere. richter creeps a finger underneath the strap, tugs it down and does the same with the other, dipping his head low to pepper your bare shoulder with feather-light pecks. before long, the bra’s at your feet.

“hm, but you’re no different,” you manage out, reveling in the warm lashing of his tongue against your nipple. it buds up the more he suckles at it.

“really, now?” he eventually parts from your breasts and rises back up to his full imposing height, carrying that faint smirk he forever wears. he looks so adorable this way— cheeks pink, lips spit-streaked. richter takes hold of your bottoms from either side of you, and swiftly brings them down with what you could only call pure impatience.

“yes, really. you’re just as desperate,” you counter him, reaching low to prove it. your palm grazes his bulge, and you give a few thorough squeezes; the kind that makes his mouth drop open.

“look at you, almost bursting out of your pants,” you quietly giggle, gazing up at him through the wisps of your lashes. richter wonders how you make such light fun while using your touch to undo him all at once. his breathing quickens, and it gets just a little heavier with your every attempt to caress his throbbing cock through his trousers. “seems like you need it more than i do, doesn’t it?”

“oh, fuck me . . .” richter whines, settling his head into the slope of your shoulder. your touch leaves him, just for a moment, to rid him of those restrictive pants. his cock springs free from its confines and bobs under its own weight. he’s got more length than girth; a good six or seven in size, with two thick veins running along the underside of him. the faint-pink tip prods at your thigh, staining your skin with precum.

he bucks against you hungrily, fingertips digging into the seams of your panties. you think you can hear them splintering apart. in the heat of things, he always winds up tearing your good underwear.

richter could ease into this moment and let your hand work him senseless, but there comes a time where he decides to end the charade. there’s also no knowing when his aunt and sister will return. he wants to make the most out of the unpromised time you have.

and so, he cuts your fun short with a mere rasp, “i’m through messing around with you. get on the fucking bed.”

no malice is found in his words; it’s just the height of his lust. you’d do as told, but richter’s already taking action into his own hands. with two, three— no, four steps, he’s standing at the bedside and splaying you across it. he snags off the remaining of your torn panties, left to suggestively decorate his floor. now, in all your naked glory, you’re bare and ready for him.

richter crawls over to you and kneels from above where you lay, situated closely between your legs. your thighs cushion either side of his lean hips. he leans down occasionally whenever you plead for a kiss, or wish to thread your fingers through his brown tousled hair. it now looks just a bit wilder than usual.

“c’mon— open, darling.” he hints at your legs, smoothing his warm palms down from your calves to your thighs. ever the compliant girlfriend, you part them nice and wide for his viewing pleasure. your cunt’s glossy and wet, clenching around nothing but the intangible air around.

‘oh, how pretty,’ he breathlessly murmurs, dragging two fingers across the expanse of your body. down, down, down, until they’re tracing along your slit. your dripping hole puckers against the pads of his index and middle, and you whimper when he threatens to push two inside.

“this wet, yet i’ve hardly done a thing,” his voice is ever boastful, “are you sure i’m the desperate one?” both fingers are suddenly replaced with his stiff erection, and he uses the precum-stained tip to catch onto your clit, resting warm and heavy against it. to that, you release a little ‘mm,’ and he taps against your puffy bud with the head of his cock— stopping once your hips start bucking for more.

“god, you just love to torment me . . . ” you huff out, vexation getting the best of you. “torment you? oh, never.” richter taunts, slotting himself between your puffy folds. he steers the way he glides against you by keeping a thumb at the base. “i just like to watch you squirm, is all.”

you know how to pry what you want out of him; a little bit of begging here, a small ounce of praise there. you lift your hips to grind against the underside of him, emitting soft moans whenever he rubs against your swollen clit just right, “richter, please. i really need your cock . . .”

“oh, baby,” he bites at his lower lip, giving in just as you expected of him. “i love it when you ask nicely.” in one fluid motion, he fits himself past the fleshy ring of your entrance and slips right inside. noise falls from you both; you’re gasping at the steady push, doing your best to accommodate every given inch, and richter’s letting small groans escape him, fingers digging into the tender flesh of your hips.

“always so fucking . . . tight,” he emits a shuddered breath, dropping his head to watch himself bottom out deep enough for his balls to nestle snugly against your ass-cheeks. you’re well connected now, to the point where his own pelvis has become sticky with your arousal. chestnut fringes drop into his view, and he sweeps his hair back with one hand threading through it.

“you’re taking it all so well this time,” he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a subtle grin playing on his lips. “such a good girl for me.” the connection between you two pulsates. he starts to build a delicious rhythm— drawing out for just a second, and pushing back in by the next. he watches you melt beneath him, your eyes sealed shut and mouth agape. a tangly string of moans tumble from your plush lips. richter’s no composer by any means, but the sounds he pulled from you is nothing short of beautiful music.

he’s without resignation tonight, and you notice his intensity when handling you. those naughty hands of his cup and squeeze and rub, his thrusts are fast, and you're sure that the resounding ‘smack!’ of skin-upon-skin can be heard from outside the window with how loud it’s become.

richter’s got your wrists bound above your head using the grip of only one firm hand, while he uses the other to keep your leg perched over his broad shoulder. his cock pushes deeper inside whenever he rolls his hips into your own, and your toes curl against the sheets with every stroke. when ramming in, his breath goes shaky at the sight of your body lurching, and pulling out makes his eyes roll back with how hard you’re clamping down on him, practically begging him to stay.

you’re soon to unravel, and you can tell he is too. his thighs begin to tremble, and his pace is less timely. nearing ecstasy, you already know what richter’s bound to ask you:

“where do you want me?”

without fail, he poses the same question by the near end of every session. and each time, you opt for the safe route, even though you secretly wish for more. your answer mostly varies on whatever position he’s got you manhandled in. bashfully, you’ll instruct him to cum over your ass if he has you bent over, or your tits if he’s been ogling them the whole night. sometimes, you’ll even let him decorate your pretty face with his seed— now that drives him mad, so much so that you always go another round or two afterwards.

but your true desire is, by far, much filthier than the rest. you’re nowhere near daring enough to plainly admit that you want his cum inside of you. as in, womb-filling placement. pregnancy-inducing, even.

though, something’s come over you tonight. you think richter’s finally ‘fucked you stupid�� the way he always cockily threatens to. or, maybe having him settled within you just feels too good to give up so soon. you don’t want him pulling out this time, you determine. what you need is for him to stay right where he is, to keep you stuffed whole with his warm love. all you want is for him to do it—

“inside,” is your breathless cry; a risky plea of the very thing he spends lone nights getting himself off to the thought of. richter isn't sure he heard you right— no, it must be a cruel figment of his perverse imagination. a bead of sweat's caught along his raised brow, those blue eyes of his carry a hooded glow, and his face, bearing a cutely furrowed look, grows pinker than before.

“what?”

“oh, god,” you whine, face gone hot. “richter, i . . .” the words melt off your tongue and fizzle into nothing.

“you . . ?” he plays around your hesitance, drawing out the word with some light goading. you sigh rather than responding, and it’s a dramatic one, because does he really have to make you repeat yourself? richter gazes down at you expectantly as he slows his movements, finding purchase on your waist to come to an unsteady pause. his fingers drum along your sides, awaiting more clarity.

your voice is small when you manage to confess, “ . . . i want you to cum inside of me.”

you think you can see the very moment that he fucking breaks. it’s like his resolve’s a porcelain vase, oh so delicate, and you’ve just pushed it to the floor and cracked it into a million tiny pieces. he releases this low groan, one that makes your pussy flutter at the sound of it. you can feel how rapidly his cock throbs from within you. you’re sure he’s about to paint them white.

“shit . . . you don’t mean that.”

“i do, rich. i want this.”

you blink up at him, pleading with glassy eyes and the very pout that makes his heart throb. god, he wants to kiss you so messily right now. and that he does— closing in to slot his lips against yours, working his tongue down your mouth, and separating with a distinct pop! you moan against richter’s lips as his clutch on your waist intensifies.

“you’ve gone ahead and finally drove me fucking crazy,” he thickly swallows, “you don’t know what you’ve just done to me, do you?” richter takes hold on both sides of your face, painless but firm. you mumble aloud what sounds like his name. he can’t be sure, as you’re muffled from the way his grasp is making your cheeks puff out.

“oh, darling, you don’t.” richter seethes, knowing how you like it when he gets a little mean, “because if you did, you’d know that spewing that kind of shit will make me fuck you like a senseless animal,” his toned body is hunched over yours, eliminating any space there once was between you, “that i’d fill up this greedy little cunt until you’re overflowing with my cum,” his octave drops, tone dangerous, “that i wouldn’t be able to stop until we’ve both passed out on this goddamn bed.”

“mmph, rich . . .” you weakly attempt, whining through your lips that he keeps pursed between his thumb and index that press into the fat of your cheeks.

“what was that, love? you wanna be stuffed with my cum?” his tone is a mocking one, but you dumbly nod anyway. he mirrors the rocking motion of your head, amused with your desperation, “fuck yeah, you do. can feel you getting wetter at the thought of it.”

you haven’t got it in you to feed into that typical banter with your boyfriend. you only want him to do just as he said and ‘fill you up.’ you're pawing at his bicep with one hand, and the other one clasps over the wrist of the hand he’s using to squish at your face. ‘want it,’ you start, fingers skimming across his arm, ‘so badly, rich!’

“fine, then. you’re such a needy thing,” he gives in, figuring you’ve endured just about enough of his teasing. richter holds himself by the base, and pulls back to trace your gaping hole with his cockhead.

“you asked for this,” he pants out, “to be fucking bred.”

just as before, his entrance is a smooth one; even if your grip on him is so taut that he can barely manage to move. you’re moaning again, aimlessly circling your hips in an attempt to match his movement.

patterns repeat themselves— like richter’s desperation that always manifests itself through harsh rutting. his mind goes blank every time he’s encompassed by your sweet, warm pussy. he aches for it, for you, as though he wasn’t just indulging. he was this close to release just minutes ago. the sensitivity is still there, you notice from how his tip pulses from within you. he’s been holding out on himself, trying to make this count.

richter dedicates the next several minutes to flipping and folding you into at least two different positions, bodies merging with a zealous haste. as always, the bed creaks and whines with every pivoted motion made upon it. nobody else is here to complain about it, so the noise is ignored rather than worried over. after all, there’s something gratifying about the sex being hard and thorough.

there’s more fervor behind his loving this time, and it’s because he’s got the end in mind. yes, the finishing is what he anticipates; once he can finally, finally pump you full of all the cum he has to offer. and maybe— no, definitely, he’ll have you knocked up after it’s done.

the prospect excites him more than it should; giving you a little bright-eyed belmont. richter’s always seen replenishing the sacred bloodline as a responsibility that only he alone holds. the very last one, he is. who else apart from him could return their clan to its original glory?

a good amount of years ago, as richter can’t bring himself to remember a particular number, his mother would present him with countless tales of their infamous family. how they’d slay monsters of the night with the utmost ease, gifted with holy tools and magic of old passed down throughout the centuries. he wouldn’t like to admit how much it’s gotten to his head; or moreso, how important he sees it to expand the family tree.

god willing, the pair of you will have babies, lots of babies, and mark the start of a new generation of vampyre slayers. it already helps that he loves to fuck you at any given chance. breeding you had always been lingering at the back of his mind, even back when the pair of you first coupled over ten months back . . . but he never really thought so deeply about it until you confessed your deep desire, and forced him to come to terms with his own.

“thinkin’ of you pregnant,” he reveals, voice honest and vulnerable, “god, what a beautiful sight. my woman, all round and full with my love . . . ”

“mm, that sounds— possessive,” you breathe out, body steadily rocking at the pace that richter’s set. you’re cracking your eyes open and sparing him a glance, just to see that he’s already staring back down at you. like you’re his everything, it seems. that twinkle in his eye is reserved for you only, and it makes you throb with want.

“oh, i’m sure it does.” he doesn’t bring himself to deny it. he wants you marked by him in every possible way. for anyone to take a glance at your rounding belly months from now and just know that he touched you thoroughly and fucked you right.

“but you should understand just how fortunate you are, baby,” he coos, “do you know how many bitches would kill for this seed you’re getting tonight? hm?” richter drones on, “you even sure you deserve it?”

he knows full well that you do. if there’s any woman on god’s green earth that he wants to give all his love to, it’s indisputably you. he’s simply rousing you up, making you ‘earn’ it. the man likes to tease, and you can’t help but enjoy being on the receiving end.

“well . . . you’re planning to give it to me, aren’t you?” even with him wrecking you, body sore and hair disarray, you're still able to check him. “i am,” he sighs, “and you’re gonna feel it all the way in here,” a large palm of his splays across your abdomen. from over your tummy, he feels the outline of his own cock, pressing in and sliding out before ramming it’s way back in again, courtesy of his rolling hips.

it spurs him on to see that he doubles you in size, so much so that his dick leaves a bulge. richter bets that he’s stretching out your cunt in the nicest way— just look at how you’re taking it with hazy eyes and quivering legs. no wonder you want his cum so badly; because who else throughout all of goddamn machecoul could give you such good orgasms? which other man could possibly fill you up with such valuable seed?

“i swear, m’gonna give you a baby,” is richter’s shaky promise, moaning throughout, and his cock throbs twice in a row. he’ll make you a carrier of the next generation of belmonts, he swears it. and oh, is he sure you’ll be an amazing mother. the thought makes his head buzz. he vividly pictures you, tender and swollen in the tummy and breasts, waddling around cutely due to carrying his very own child. he could cum just by thinking about it too hard . . .

and he does.

“oh, god, i’m gonna— oh, fuck!” his balls constrict, his pelvis becomes tightly-strung, and before he knows it, he’s emptying his thick load inside of you.

“yes, rich . . . give it to me,” you softly purr, allowing him to ease his weight onto you as he shudders from the high and his limbs go weak. from where he has his face smushed against your cushiony chest, he bites at your left breast while cumming some more. it spurts out in hot streams, accompanied by the twitching of his sensitive dick. he lazily humps against you, and a bit of semen seeps past your cunt, trickles down the length of him, and pours out onto the sheets beneath. you knew it’d be satiating to be filled to the brim.

he feels like he could fall asleep right here atop of you. even with his head’s swimming in a thick cloud of lust, and though the aftermath of his climax lingers, he’s still able to deliver slow rubs to your little bud.

“hope you’re ready for another,” he reaches down between you and swiping his graceful fingers across it, “because we aren’t fucking done yet.”

you hardly get a chance to bask in how nicely he’s loaded your womb, or the delightful tingle he brings when playing with your clit. richter, always a step ahead, uses his small bit of remaining energy to sit upwards with his back to the bedpost, and hauls you onto him so that you’re straddled over him just the way he likes. he gets the best view of your jiggling boobs this way.

“of course you still have it in you,” you lightly laugh. given his endurance, richter’s usually able to maximize his stamina through plenty of rounds. “i also wouldn’t mind being filled a second time . . .” you set your forehead to rest against his, bringing up a hand to swipe hair away from his gorgeous face eyes, “i liked it.”

“and i loved it,” he’s quick to admit, “should’ve been finishing inside you long before now.”

you smile over his comment and wiggle your ass over his semi hard-on, growing stiffer with every sway of your breasts in his face. his hands are busy holding you from either side, so you go out of your way to stroke along his cum-dirtied cock, white dripping alongside it. he groans at your touch as you help him in finding your entrance. your mouth falls open when sinking down on him, and he rushes to lick and suck at your lips. for the third time tonight, he makes himself at home in your inviting cunt.

and so, it begins again; his ceaseless tempo. your partner's grasp is hot and strong, pulling you off and slamming you back down onto him however he pleases. you cry out for more, and he’s capable of giving it to you, so he does. richter pistons up into you— out, in, out, in, molding you to shape the very curve of his veined cock. blush colored a fiery pink scatters his face from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“again, richter,” you gasp out, “cum inside me again . . !” oh, just look at that. now he’s built you a rotten little addiction. from here on out, you’ll probably always be left craving the fulfillment gained from him dumping his load into your pussy. personally, he doesn’t mind sating you. if it eases your mind and satisfies your heart, of course. after all, he’s surely developed a new kink of his own after tonight.

“oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you, cockslut?” his fingers dip between your bodies to slide against your clit once more, “to let me impregnate you again, and again, and again . . .” he punctuates his sharp words with the lurch of his sturdy hips, knocking up into you until you’re jolting in his lap, breasts bouncing against his solid chest.

he doesn’t mean to come across in an offish way, or sound so mean. it’s just that when he gets like this, with your warm body so pliant at his fingertips, his mouth just tends to . . . run. more than usual, he supposes. the belmont just says whatever comes to mind, no matter how vulgar.

richter’s bright blue eyes follow the motion of your tits with every thrust. he slams in, hips pressed to you as close as it can get. he’s burrowed into you so deeply that his curly patch of dark pubes friction against your bundle of nerves. he’s twitching at the underside for every time your velvety walls suck him in further. you’re trying to milk him fucking dry, he believes.

there’s only so much stimulation that the pair of you can take in one night alone.

‘goddammit’ he grits out. before long, richter’s fucking you full of another stream of cum. his orgasm, hot and blinding, triggers your own; you’re creaming all over him, wetting his cock with the juices you squirt out. you’re sobbing out his name and shaking in his lap, so he holds you. a secure hand of his comes up and cradles your head to his chest, stroking your hair and calming your spent body, even as the orgasmic waves rush through you.

a silence comes over his quaint little room, where the ambience was once intense with the steamy air of sex. a chill autumn breeze blows its way through the cracked-open window, cooling your sweat-sheen skin. his dusty-blue sheets are stained with all kinds of suggestive white fluids, and the bed has stopped making all that noise.

you’re still placed over his thighs in the same straddling stance, one you both feel much too tired to get out of. he tries at maneuvering so he can lie on his back, with you motionlessly laid over him. your breathing is soft and winded, but your heart’s beating fast. he can feel it, with the way your chest is pressed to his own in this position.

richter eventually slips out, and you whine once he leaves you. he peers down and groans at the spillage of his potent cum, pearly and warm, dripping from your messy little cunt in thick globs. ‘christ,’ he thinks, ‘it’s so fucking much.’

he presses a kiss to your forehead, and it stirs you from the sleep you were just about to fall into. “what do you say to me, darling?”

“hmm . . what?” after all those rounds, you’re not here mentally, and he knows it— he’s why. but with the light smirk his lips hold, you’re finally able to get it. he’s waiting for a:

“t—thank you,” you murmur out, and he tsks.

“oh, c’mon, be specific. thank you for what?”

he's simply insufferable. oh, but you love the man, so you'll let him have his way, just for tonight.

“thank you for . . giving me your cum, richter . . .”

he hums in what appears to be satisfaction. it sounds like the prettiest set of words when falling from your lips. he’d fuck you again if the both of you weren’t completely spent.

richter brings a hand to support the back of his head, propping it up a little higher than the pillows can. you snuggle into him, face nuzzling against the firm comfort of his chest, and he throws his arm over your waist, feeling at the plush skin there with a wandering touch.

his palm slides a bit further down, now planted gently against your stomach. it’ll start to grow in a little while, and get real big and plump with your baby fostering inside. maybe they’ll have your nose and complexion, with his eyes and attitude . . . he lets a grin overtake his lips, feeling more than accomplished.

“you’re a lucky fucking woman,” richter coos, hand lovingly rubbing over your tummy, “you’re gonna be carryin’ belmont blood now.”

tags go out to . . . ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ @blushfwul @springmarcheson @missmagicalprincess @kaennih-skitlles @divin3bloodlines! hope y’all enjoyed, mwuah! ❤︎

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kitashousewife · 5 months

Note

hii idk if I missed it but did u ever expand on the sakusa perfume ad thought 👀

YES please let me do so (sorry this is so late)

—————

“yes, that’s perfect. right here,” the photographer snaps another shot, clicking sounds echoing through the small set as sakusa lets out an exhale.

really he’s not sure why he agreed to this. some new perfume line contacted the team a few months back, talking about some sort of collaboration to boost each others popularity. a few phone calls later and now, most of the teammates have had their turn behind the camera.

sakusa was last. he really didn’t want to. he was flattered, a little flustered that they thought he would be good for a perfume ad. he’s seen them this whole life, casting movie stars and other famous athletes. the mere fact that he’s now at that level is mind blowing enough.

but now that he sits here, uncomfortably warm and sick of the attention, he’s thinking maybe it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

until you call him.

you’re in your local grocery store, picking up things for the week after work. thoroughly worn out, you grab a magazine from the racks while in the check out line to pass the time. your fingers flip through aimlessly, completely unaware of the contents of the glossy pages, until you are.

staring back at you is sakusa kiyoomi. head rested in his palm, in a partially unbuttoned black silk shirt, with a bottle of cologne to his lips.

you almost shut the magazine. your body feels warm, your head spins. almost ripping it open again, you stare right back at the photo. his jaw is sharp, and his milky skin glistens behind the shiny bottle. and his eyes, they feel like he’s staring right at you. before you can think twice you’re shoving the tabloid onto the belt, and begin to try to catch your breath.

“hell-“

“kiyoomi,” your voice sounds apprehensive, strained even.

“what? i just got back from practice, i need to sh-“

“we’ve been friends for over ten years and you forgot to tell me that you were in a fucking cologne ad?”

sakusa about chokes before he slams the mute button on his phone. he completely forgot, he hadn’t even been told by the marketing team that the ads were out. he feels embarrassed, suddenly worried about everyone in the entire world seeing a completely different side of him than normal.

but he’s also curious.

part of him wished this would happen. while he was staring down the lens of the camera, the thought did cross his mind about how you specifically would react.

he can’t help but find out.

“it slipped my mind i guess, i’ve been busy,” he sets his phone on the kitchen counter. “kinda cool, huh?”

you don’t even know what to say. the most beautiful photo of the prettiest man you’ve ever met is in front of you, and his raspy voice is coming through your phone, making for an incredibly distracting combination.

“you look so irritated,” your voice is quiet. sakusa smirks, only slightly.

“i was. i was there for hours,” his smirk grows for a moment. “i think there’s going to be a short video ad, too.”

you rub your temples. your mind is blank. you’ve always thought sakusa was handsome, but not like this. your tongue feel heavy in your mouth, and you can’t stop staring.

“a-and what do you think of it? what did your mom say?”

sakusa shorts at the desperate conversation change attempt. “she had a fit, you know how she is.”

the thought of how could she not crosses your mind, and thankfully you don’t say it out loud.

“well, it’s really something. congrats, omi,”

sakusa smiles. “thanks,” he can hear you sigh on the other end. “everything okay over there?”

no. “y-yeah, yeah, just fine,” you shut the magazine and toss it onto the coffee table.

“staring at my picture?”

“n-no!” you’re quick, and sakusa laughs.

“miss me that much? jeez, want me to come sign it for you too?”

you pause. he laughs out loud. “shut up, omi,” you groan. “i’ll see you friday anyway, for motoya’s dinner,”

“okay, see you then.”

he hangs up, and he can’t help but snicker to himself. he can’t wait to see you on friday now. and, he even has the shirt from the shoot.

he decides he’s going to wear it, just for you.

#sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #sakusa fluff #hq fluff #hq drabble #sakusa x reader fluff

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jeongharine · 5 months

Text

a sea of tangerines

⚝ mingyu x reader

⚝ angst, romance, established couple, smut

⚝ notes: i really can't get out of my mind that postcard so i had to use it in the story to get it out of my system. i think it has become one of my favourite written letters by an anonymous on the web.

anyways, happy early holidays to you reading. hope this period treats you well x

christmas eve, in a metropolis somewhere in the world.

"we used to live here together. i’m walking down the streets with a bag of tangerines in this city that we liked to call home. this is the only address that i could think of. happy holidays"

it was a hectic busy evening of december. the subway was full and mingyu really just wanted to rest. to lay on his comfy sofa and laze for the last days before the christmas crazyness. but he was stuck in a stupid metallic transport that had the resemblance of an infinite tunnel, with what seemed like the rest of the whole city.

something poked his tired left foot. then another, and another one. tangerines. a dozens of them. a wave of tangerines coming up at his feet.

he raised his head, and that’s when he spotted a ripped shopping bag held with all its might by slender fingers.

that’s when you spotted strong hands coming at you with your tangerines, a whispered sorry coming out of your mouth.

“it’s absurd really, a sea of tangerines coming up at my feet as if i had been the seashore. i thought i had hallucinations or something,”

that made you smile. “if only the supermarket shopping bags were not so shitty and-” “it was only a bag of tangerines rolling down the subway, though.”

right. it was only that.

“where you stopping by the way? maybe you do need a hand now,”

a puzzled look on your face. but then a smile. “right, me and my unwieldy tangerines need some help,”

that made him smile, though it was only a bag of tangerines rolling down the subway.

you left the natural tangerines onto the kitchen counter. the market with the fresh products wasn’t that far from your apartment and you waited for the rain to stop to go and do some grocery, wetting yourself nonetheless because the rain started again on your way back.

busy streets had stopped their chant and the citylights brightly lit around when mingyu stopped by.

“hey,” he ruffled his black hair back with a smile, stepping inside.

“you made it home early,” the heavy door creaking a little while closing it. “it was a bit hectic but yeah,”

“you did well,” you complimented. you looked at him fondly, making sure he took in the praise. it was never easy for him, and you knew it well. “join me on the sofa after you showered?” pointing at his sweaty tshirt.

mingyu hummed, pleased. “got something in mind?” you chuckled.

“actually, i just would like to spend some cozy time with my boyfriend if you mind,” you answered. mingyu couldn’t hide his disappointment, looking sullen like he’d wish for another answer. “i was kidding gyu, if you want to keep your girlfriend occupied in some other way it’s fine as well.”

it was one in the morning, the lamp dimly lit the room against the bingling lights of the street outside. mingyu shut the tv before slouching on the cushions next to you. he curled behind you, the smell of fabric softener and vanilla shampoo all around you.

he sighed deeply, nose buried in the crook of his loved one. the suspire beard in itself all the tiredness and weariness of the long day. “how long can you stay this time?”

“about ten days more or less,” you replied. after college you made it into the marketing world, and managed to get a good position job for a firm in the city. it was a source of proudness for you, for your parents and mingyu. but everything always comes with a burden. and travelling for work wasn’t that simple anymore.

distance was never easy, constantly keeping that in mind and making time to never skip anniversaries and holidays. you settled for that, and knew it would be challenging but this would have done for now.

“tired?”

“mmh,” he mumbled, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck. “it was very busy tonight in the restaurant. lots of dishes to prepare.” he placed his hand on your belly, slowly following the rising of your breaths. he took them in. mingyu would always be ready to take everything that’s bothering you.

there was a scratch on your watch, mingyu dropped it on the pavement last time you went away. he gently pulled you in, making you turn to face him.

his rough hand met your cheek, thumb stroking it gently to draw your mouth closer to his. his tongue eager, tiredness was not so present anymore. and so he kissed you like all the stars in the sky above would have exploded.

“i like this couch though,” mingyu whispered, lips damp from the kiss. “what do you mean?”

“that your boyfriend has something else in mind,” mingyu answered.

“bed’s waiting then.” you intertwined your fingers with his, leaving a peck on his nose.

the city lights danced slowly outside the window, a siren breaking the silence of the night when you went to the bedroom. everyone was asleep in the nearby apartments and you moved around like new lovers, when taking the risk of getting caught. but the night was gentle to you, keeping your secrecy like an oath.

being extra cautious when you brought mingyu in, the latter trying not to knock you over the drawer of your room when stripping you. you tumbled onto the white sheets, legs forever intertwined.

“i want to marry you.” mingyu whispered, kissing you gently on the shoulder. “i found the perfect house for us, not too far from the subway for the airport and the restaurant.”

the bed squeaked, and you smiled. you wanted that, as badly as mingyu wanted it. but it was not in your nature to rush things. mingyu looked at you fondly, the moon was brighter and he could see your soul.

“that sounds nice gyu, maybe we can look at it with purpose in a few months.”

“yeah? y/n, you’re not fooling with me right?”

“no, i just need a few months to adjust some things at work then we can start to really think about it,” you replied, heart beating like it never had before. “come here and kiss me,” you caressed his black locks of hair. but mingyu didn’t.

he started to trail kisses lower down your neck, breasts, stomach and slipped your undies down kissing your pubic bone and you were not prepared for it. “gyu–”

“i missed you, let me treat you as you deserve..”

mingyu got you wrapped around his finger with his sweet mouth and hand intertwined with yours. “oh,” you sighed when he suckled a little bit harder. “i don’t think i can last.”

“should i stop then?” mingyu asked, after pulling off with a pop.

“n–no, keep going baby,” you whined. the heat of the moment and your slick making you sticky, you were desperately thrusting up your hips in his face, which wasn’t easy but you tried nonetheless. mingyu responded to you with low groans, leaving your pussy unkissed like a punishment.

“you’re so annoying.” “stop whining like a baby,” he kissed you, galaxies exploding far away but the chanting of the subway trains covered it into the night. “you taste like tangerines,”

“ate them before,” “you’re the sweetest.” mingyu meant it literally, but you smiled like it was said just to please you. your head tilted into the soft pillow when his lips met yours with another kiss, tongue muffling all the noises.

he grabbed your back, twisting you over with the tug of his hand down his thigh. you had your leg splayed over mingyu’s waist, heavy breaths, you studied him with a perplexed cast. “want to make love to me like this?”

“honey, for i do really love giving you a good pound into the bed i don’t have it in me right now.” you laughed, sliding off mingyu’s underwear fast. “you still have that oil there?”

“yep,” you emphasized on the p while mingyu reached to your bedside table. his slicked up dick teased along your pussy’s lips just to hear you sigh before he slid in. a moan buried in his sweaty neck. “f-fuck .”

mingyu growled lowly. hands on your ass so the grinding was smoother on the push down. your eyes rolling back stupidly. “feels so good baby, fuck.”

the praise made you quiver. heavy panting, desperate breathing, slippery fair skin on tan skin, tits and pecs knocking against each other because you were that close.

mingyu rutted up another inch, your gut twisted. “y-yeah , i like that–” mingyu gasped loudly, inhaling fast. “if you keep talking i might pound into you.”

“guess you’re not tired anymore then.” “i always work hard for you.” you did not fight him when he laid you flat on the mattress under himself. you choked on a breath when mingyu couldn’t keep it to himself from fucking you that hard, especially when you were lain pliant like this. all exposed just for him and no-one else. fuck if it will never stop to drive him stupid.

the bed creaked under mingyu’s ministrations, his hips snapped rapidly and the sheets were bunched up tight in your fists. you couldn’t say you were not into it either.

you didn’t push away mingyu’s fingers when he placed it on your delicate nub and started to circle on it. “you have to come first,” and it was not hard for him to accomplish that, you gave it to him shortly after. burning hot along your nerves, you felt the sweet unraveling you never could control, and mingyu felt it as well when your hot spurts spilled onto his abdomen, grabbing onto his bulky arms as if they were your personal lifeline.

you breathed in satisfaction, and mingyu was desperate for his high then, pumping fast for an orgasm he waited all day for and spilling over your stomach. he pumped slowly then, tiredness hitting him. “dirty.”

he chuckled when you locked him in an embrace. “i want to marry you now, tonight even.”

you bubbled with a laugh. “i know, but give me at least three months.”

“one month.”

“no baby, i’m serious.” he replied, impatience slowly started building its home in the back of his mind. “do you want to go out and take a stroll around the city tomorrow?”

“yes, i would love to. i worked so hard today.” “i know.”

mingyu sighed. “but i will always work harder for you.” he promised kissing your nose, christmas lights sparkling the night sky hiding his promise.

you hummed into his damp hair. you would only take one month. mingyu had worked hard enough.

#mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen fic #mingyu fic #svt fic #mingyu x y/n #seventeen smut #mingyu scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

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californiannostalgia · 2 months

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Things I noticed on my Pacific Rim rewatch:

1. Raleigh had his left arm ripped off while he was piloting the left hemisphere, then had his right arm and leg shredded while he was piloting the right hemisphere. Holy fuck he has been through it. His resilience and battle focus is enough to be recognized by Pentecost, whose solo Tokyo battle was three hours long.

2. Implied that Hercules Hansen was one of the OGs, like Cherno Alpha. Wonder what happened to his copilot before he began drifting with his son. Wonder what happened to the Jaeger he piloted before Striker Eureka.

3. Pentecost says he carries nothing into the drift, but that just means he knows how to match with anyone, right? Wonder what that final drift was like in Chuck Hansen's head.

4. Tendo Choi is in command of the bridge when neither Pentecost nor Herc Hansen is present. I forgot that he reverts to Cantonese in stress situations, love these details.

5. I enjoy the bilinguals of this film. Also really interesting choice to focus on the western rim of the Pacific Ocean: Australians, Japanese, Chinese, Russians, and a badass Marshal who strikes deals with the black market and literally anyone else who will fund the Jaeger program. We get to have industrial apocalypse, alien thriller, and cyberpunk in one film. (Side question: are the Americas' coastlines devastated?)

6. Mako's expressions are so. Agh. Her face shows what she's feeling with unshielded honesty (she feels so much, like Raleigh) but she carries herself like Pentecost: deliberate, controlled. Very much his student (daughter).

7. Newt and Hermann are obsessed with their scientific theories being right, even if it means the possible doom of humankind. Iconic Academics. Also they must be important enough to have helicopters on call, since they run out of one to get to the bridge in time for the final fight.

8. Final goodbyes between Stacker Pentecost and Mako Mori.

9. Mako and Raleigh are two of many orphans who had no intention of surviving the war that took their families. Raleigh's last sacrifice was simultaneously the most selfless and selfish thing to do. Good for him to have survived, Mako would've found it hard to forgive him.

10. "Stop the clock."

#pacific rim #raleigh becket #stacker pentecost #mako mori #chuck hansen #tendo choi #hercules hansen #newt geiszler #hermann gottlieb #my thoughts #my reviews #pacific rim spoilers

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

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Biden wants to ban ripoff “financial advisors”

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library on Monday, November 13 at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

Once, American workers had "defined benefits pensions," where their employers promised to pay them a certain amount every year from their retirement to their death. Jimmy Carter swapped that out for 401(k)s, "market" pensions where you have to guess which stocks will be valuable or starve in your old age:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/25/derechos-humanos/#are-there-no-poorhouses

The initial 401(k) rollout had all kinds of pot-sweeteners that made them seem like a good deal, like heavy employer matching that doubled or even tripled the value of every dollar you put into the market for your retirement. But over the years, as Reaganomics took hold and workers' power ebbed away, all these goodies were clawed back. In the end, the market-based pension makes you the sucker at the poker table, flushing your savings into a rigged casino that is firmly tilted in favor of finance barons and other eminently guillotineable plutocrats.

Neoliberalism is many things, but most of all it is a cult of individualism. The fact that three generations of workers are nows facing down retirement without pensions that will provide them with secure housing and food – let alone money to see the odd movie, buy birthday gifts for their grandkids, or enjoy a meal out now and then – is framed as millions of individual failures, not a systemic one.

In other words, if you are facing food insecurity and homelessness after a lifetime of hard work, it's because you saved wrong. Perhaps you didn't save enough (through a 40-year run of wage stagnation and skyrocketing housing, health and education costs). Or perhaps you saved wrong, making the wrong bets on the stock market. If you can't afford to run your air conditioner during a heat dome, that's on you: you should have been better at stocks.

Apologists for this system will say that you don't have to be good at stocks – you just have to pay an Independent Financial Advisor to pick the stocks for you and you'll be fine. But IFAs don't work for free! What if you can't afford one?

Enter "predatory inclusion" – the practice of offering scammy, overpriced and substandard products to poor people and declaring it to be a good deed, because otherwise, those poor people would have to do without. The crypto bubble relied heavily on this: think of Spike Lee and others shilling for pump-and-dump scams as a way of "building Black wealth":

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/07/business/media/cryptocurrency-seeks-the-spotlight-with-spike-lees-help.html

More recently, Intuit and other scammy tax-prep services have argued against the IRS's plan to offer free tax preparation as bad for Black and brown people, because it will deny them the chance to be deceived and ripped off with TurboTax:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/27/predatory-inclusion/#equal-opportunity-scammers

Back in 2018, Trump won the predatory inclusion Olympics, when his Department of Labor let the Fifth Circuit abolish the "Fiduciary Rule" for Independent Financial Advisors:

https://www.investopedia.com/updates/dol-fiduciary-rule/

What was the Fiduciary Rule? It said that your IFN had to put your interests ahead of their own. Like, if there were two different funds you could bet on, and one would pay your IFN a big commission, while the other would be a better bet for you, the IFN couldn't put your retirement savings into the fund that offered them a bribe.

When Trump killed the Fiduciary Rule, he proclaimed it a victory for poor people, especially Black and brown people. After all, if IFNs weren't allowed to accept bribes for giving you bad financial advice, then they would have to make up the difference by charging you for good advice. If you couldn't afford that advice, well, you'd have to make bad retirement investments on your own, without the benefit of their sleazy self-dealing.

The Biden Administration wants to change that. Biden's Acting Labor Secretary is Julie Su, and she's very good at her job. Last spring, she forced west coast dockworkers' bosses to cough up the contract they'd stalled on for a year, with 8-10% raises for every worker, owed retroactively:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/16/that-boy-aint-right/#dinos-rinos-and-dunnos

Su has proposed a way to reinstate the Fiduciary Rule, as part of the Biden Administration's war on junk fees, estimating that this will increase retirees' net savings by 20%:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-11-07-julie-su-labor-retirement-savers/

The new rule will force advisors who cheat their clients to pay restitution, and will require them to deliver all their advice in writing so that this cheating can be detected and punished.

The industry is furious, of course. They claim that "The Market (TM)" will solve this: if you get bad retirement savings advice and end up homeless and starving, then you will choose a different advisor in your next life, after you are reincarnated (I guess?).

And of course, they're also claiming that forcing IFNs to stop cheating their clients will deny poor people access to expert (bad) advice. As the Financial Services Institute's Dale Brown says, this will have a "negative impact on Main Street Americans’ access to financial advice":

https://www.fa-mag.com/news/legal-challenge-predicted-for-new-dol-fiduciary-proposal-75257.html

Here's that rule – read it for yourself, then submit a comment expressing your views on it. The government wants to hear from you, and administrative law requires them to act on the comments they receive:

https://www.federalregister.gov/documents/2023/11/03/2023-23782/proposed-amendment-to-prohibited-transaction-exemptions-75-1-77-4-80-83-83-1-and-86-128

Su is part of a wave of progressive, technically skilled regulators in the Biden administration that resulted from a horse-trading exercise called the Unity Task Force, which divvied up access to top appointments among the progressive wing and the finance wing of the Democratic Party. The progressive appointments are nothing short of incredible – the most competent and principled agency leaders America has seen in half a century:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

But then there's the finance wing's appointments, like Judge Jacqueline Scott Corley, who ruled against Lina Khan's attempt to block the rotten Microsoft/Activision merger (don't worry, Khan's appealing):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/14/making-good-trouble/#the-peoples-champion

Perhaps the worst, though, is Biden's Secretary of Commerce Gina Raimondo, a private equity ghoul who did a stint for the notorious wreckers Bain Capital before founding her own firm. Raimondo has stuffed her department full of Goldman Sachs alums, and has sidelined labor and civil society groups as she sets out to administer everything from the CHIPS Act to regulating ChatGPT.

As Henry Burke writes for the Revolving Door Project and The American Prospect, Raimondo's history as a corporate raider, her deference to the finance sector, and she and her husband's conflicts of interest from their massive stakes in companies she's regulating all serve to undermine Biden's agenda:

https://prospect.org/economy/2023-11-08-commerce-secretary-gina-raimondo-undercutting-bidenomics/

When the administration inevitably complains that its popular economic programs aren’t breaking through the media coverage, they’ll have no one to blame but themselves.

The Unity Task Force gave us generationally important policymakers, but ultimately, it's a classic "pizzaburger." If half your family wants pizza, and the other half wants burgers, and you serve them something halfway in between that makes none of them happy, you haven't made a wise compromise – you've just made an inedible mess:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/17/pizzaburgers/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/08/fiduciaries/#but-muh-freedumbs

#pluralistic #julie su #fiduciary rule #intergenerational warfare #aging #retirement #401ks #old age #pensions #finance #pizzaburgers #Gina Raimondo

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scary-lasagna · 4 months

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Hello, I hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if it was okay if to request LJ, Bloody Painter, and Hoodie (separately) with a siren reader? Reader, in her human form, is slightly stronger, durable, and faster. However, in their siren form (which happens when they get submerged underwater) they have the typical powers of a siren, but they also have limit consciousness. What I mean by that is that they are a lot more feral in this form, and doesn’t really recognize anyone in that form, but like, around their partners, they’d sort of feel familiar to them, so reader in their siren form won’t attack them or anything. Hope this makes sense!

In my AU sirens can also transform into bird-like creatures! They have power over the sea and the air :] I decided to implement that as well.

Laughing Jack

Jack, as you know, runs an old, worn-down circus.

There are no more acts of beasts, or rare animals from the human realm, but more so of a retirement place for the creatures.

He basically bought you off of the black market, watching the algae float around the the cramped tank they kept you in.

There was no way he'd be able to sleep at night, knowing he could prevent another lonely night for you.

You got a lovely spot next to Snowflake, his prized albino Tiger, which Jack thought was so funny, because of the cat and fish dynamic.

But after research and asking around after taking care of you for a month, he concluded to take you out of the water.

He enjoyed that month of bonding and feeding you, and even reading you stories whenever you seemed bored with any enrichment toys and food he gave you. He wondered if you would even remember him.

But you did, and you thanked him profusely for rescuing you, even if he had no idea how much it cost or energy it took to rehabilitate a siren-like yourself.

And Jack was always willing to learn whatever you told him, even bringing up stories from your culture about how the sea will reach toward the moon in an attempt to reach its lover that flew too high.

And it took am embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that Jack's feathers were fake, simply a silly decoration he enjoyed.

But over time, you two grew close, and now you have a rather large tank full of a small reef and a complete array of fish to keep you happy whenever you decide to dip your toes.

Helen

Oh, Helen is just head over heels for you.

He thinks you're the most beautiful muse he's ever come across, and every time you step foot in the water you two fall in love all over again.

You actually almost killed him the first time you met. Both of you thought you were alone, and quickly realized the presence of the other.

He managed to squeeze you into his painting of the sunset, but before leaving, he gathered seashells into the tide.

You almost bit his arm off, and ended up getting a face full of oil paint. It tasted lovely, as you can imagine, (it tasted like you gulped down an oil spill).

As while busy gagging and attempting to wash your mouth out, and drink the sea water, which would make even the best of sirens sea-sick, Helen took charge and dragged you out of the water to help you.

And you hit it off since, and many of his paints of you have gained quite the popularity.

Brian

Not gonna lie, he thinks you are pretty terrifying.

The first time you went to the beach, Brian expected something like Ariel, or even the mermaids from Pirates of the Caribbean.

He was not expecting your true form in the slightest.

Your jaw unhinged and ripped your cheeks clean in half to reveal not one, but multiple rows of sharp teeth.

And he's seen many things and creatures in his career as a proxy, but a siren had not been one of them. Slender had mentioned staying away from them, especially as humans, you can be lured whenever they decide to be bored of you, and then drag you to the sea floor.

Or maybe they'll grab you up in their talons leading to sculpted human legs and drop you in a vat of bubbling acid.

Whatever the case was, it seemed as if it went into one ear and out with other with Brian, because he fell in love.

But damn, in the water you were hella creepy. And of course, you thought it was a game to scare this familiar stranger shitless since he seemed so keen on staying around you.

He managed to lure you out from the water with a little jar of "siren-bait" from one of the seaside shops. It didn't work as expected, but you really just wanted to see if it contained any edible food.

But he liked pruning your wings and picking off the casing of new feathers whenever they came in, and if he wasn't feeling too tired, he would give you a small massage to your shoulders after holding up your wings for so long.

#helen otis x reader #helen #bloody painter #bloody painter x reader #creepypasta x reader #laughing jack #laughing jack x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta blog #hoodie x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #proxy x reader

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jennifer-jeong · 19 days

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Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

[Fluff + Angst] [Love and Deepspace Boys x Fae!Reader] Angel

CONTENT

Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST<3 ||

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #xavier x reader #xavier fluff #xavier angst #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne angst #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel angst #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace angst #lads fluff #l&ds fluff #j's silly ramblings

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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months

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Hey gator, can you make a fic of Homelander dating a trans reader?

(Also you’re doing amazing, I’m so proud of you, and you’re flipping cool :D)

John Gillman/Homelander x ftm reader

Headcanons

Im gonna ignore the fact that Homelander would definitely be transphobic in canon, and write this in my canon where I make the rules.

John probably wouldn’t get it in the beginning, as he was definitely raised not being told about the LGBTQ community by vought, outside of the fact that it didn’t meet Americas standards. So, imagine his surprise when he starts having feelings for you, a man.

You weren’t even another hero, you were just a member of the marketing team who worked closer to The Seven than the rest. Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t fawn over them or fear them, or how you didn’t seem to put up with their shit when they made impossible demands.

The only one you seemed to get along with in the beginning was Black Noir and Starlight, as they were both polite in their own ways.

John couldn’t figure out what it was about you, and it would take some time before he realized you were trans, which he’s able to figure out pretty quickly with his x-ray vision. Whether you wear a binder, have top and bottom surgery, or a third thing, he can spot it, since you would look different than cis guys.

He doesn’t know what to do with that information, especially since he’s already attracted to you and has tried to woo you in his own, showboaty way. Its kinda like watching a peacock strutting around trying to attract a mate.

Homelander is very bad at it though, and is kinda obvious about it too, maybe only to you though. Hes cute in his own way though, as he reminds you of a puppy at times, a very dangerous puppy with laser eyes, so in the end you make take the step and ask him out.

John would sputter and blush, but agree to go on a date. Hes never been one for privacy, so expect a lot of questions about being trans, even very intimate ones that you wouldn’t normally ask a stranger.

I can’t say hed be a great boyfriend, but that’s not because you are trans or anything. It’s mainly because he’s just not a good person in general, and he’s very busy as the leader of The Seven and keeping up his ratings.

But if your fine with both of you having busy schedules, him breaking into your apartment at any time of the day, and him not being public about your relationship as it would ruin his ratings, then I say go for it.

I don’t think he would go out of his way to research the trans experience, as he has you to answer all his questions if he has any. John doesn’t end up caring much about gender as a whole, but he will finance any surgeries or treatment if you want any, because he loves you and shows it through pampering you any chance he gets.

If you have breasts though, he would mourn if you got top surgery, since hed want them in his mouth all the time. But just give him something else to fixate on, and he will be fine. Be it your fingers or your next chest, or something third.

If you just wear a binder, expect him to keep a very close eye on your ribcage with his x-ray vision, and expect to be scolded if you wear it for too long, or if he can see it damaging your ribs. He would probably go out of his way to rip it right off you If you have worn it too long, he will just buy you a new one anyways.

All in all, he’s supportive in his own ways, even though those ways can be… questionable at times. He never actually questions if you are a man or not, and never misgenders you, and lashes out as anyone who does, but he does lack behind in certain areas. John does his best with what he’s got though.

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twogyuu · 8 months

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can i get a number 17 with wonwoo and a side of angst please

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader

17: "Enemies. Strictly enemies."

genre: fluff, angst(?), childhood rivals to lovers

warnings: profanity

wc: ~1k

a/n: this was inspired by a couple of IG reels i saw of brides running away for SVT and this IG reel about academic rivals.

. . . .

The predicament you are in is truly bizarre - one for the films and people told family stories about.

Yet, you can't help but feel a sense of relief to it all.

To hell with pleasing families, tight and lung constricting gowns, fake smiles until your cheeks ached, and the worst of it all: pretending to be happy and forcing yourself to believe that it'd work with him when you knew deep down, the relationship was doomed when you said 'yes.'

So what if you were sitting on the curb in a tattered wedding dress, the hem uneven from all the tripping as you ran across town and the veil split into two after it got caught in the branches of an elm tree, with Wonwoo?

The night is young. The last few rays of sunshine grips onto the dimming skies, headlights of passing cars in the evening traffic flicker on and make your vision spotty and bright. Girls in their twenties don tight tube tops and short skirts sway their hips down the pavement with their arms linked as they trekked down to the club. You could almost feel the grit and grease from the fast food trucks of the night market lined up across the street.

You let out a long sigh and rest your head on Wonwoo's shoulder. He peers down at you; you half expect him to look away in nonchalance, but he doesn't. You can barely make out his expression in the growing darkness: something between regret and disquietude. He seems to have words to tell and ask you on the tip of his tongue, his Adam's apple bobs as he contemplates, but a few seconds pass and his lips remain sealed.

"Why did you do it?" you finally ask. You suck in a harsh breath. "Object?"

He looks back to the street and you wait eagerly for him to say something.

But he doesn't - Wonwoo only pulls his lips in between his teeth. His gaze falls to his hands, thumbs twiddling against one another.

"Wonwoo," you try again.

Still nothing.

You sit up, your hands still interlocked around his bicep. You squeeze his arm in another attempt to get him to look at you. You were growing desperate - feeling less sure about your decision to leave your wedding with him in a flurry . . . choosing him.

"W-what are we?" you ask. Your voice falters this time, the tone much softer and less certain than prior.

And when he continues to stay silent, you begin to lose hope. Contrition grows; questions of if Kyungsoo would take you back start swirling your mind. Your hands begin to slip off his body as you lean away from him. You start gathering the tule material of your white dress in your fists instead, tears welling up in your eyes.

This was Wonwoo: your sworn enemy since the age of six - what made you think he'd really want you for you?

"Enemies," Wonwoo finally speaks, "Strictly enemies."

You pause, chewing the inside of your cheek, waiting him to explain further.

Wonwoo pushes his black-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat before he looks up at you finally. The right corner of his lip twitches up into a chagrin smile.

"I promised remember? When we were six and you threw my Pokeball into the pond," he explains, "I'd ruin all things good for you."

Ah . . .

Well fuck.

The first tear drips from your eyes and roll down your cheek. You stand up and step away from him, but Wonwoo follows. He tucks his hands into his khakis and he takes a moment to collect himself before speaking further.

Your fears were right and you didn't even have it in you to be mad at him right now. All those late nights over fried chicken and Diet Coke, falling asleep at his place and finding a quilt thrown over your shoulder, impromptu visits at the office - all that just to get you to open up your heart so he could rip it apart.

What a dumbass you were.

But then, Wonwoo surprises you.

He pulls out a red bread twist tie, the ends intertwined so it's shaped in circle. Wonwoo reaches for your left hand silently. He runs his thumb over your ring finger, staring momentarily before he slips on the twist tie.

It's dumb truly, but it makes your heart swell. It's not the same one, but you remember it well. You were eighteen, just right before you both left for college, sitting on the rooftop of the apartment building your families lived in. By then, your rivalry had morphed into something of frenemies and teases. Like now, he offered you a red bread twist tie as a peace offering to your prolonged rivalry - and more:

"Say, if we don't meet anyone by the time we're thirty-two, marry me?"

You didn't take it seriously then. Marriage wasn't on your mind, let alone with your sworn enemy.

And it was Wonwoo - asking for this was so . . . out-of-character for him. Must've been a joke, you had thought.

"Why thirty-two?" you had asked.

He shrugged. "Seems like a nice number."

Your eyes immediately flicker from your finger back to him.

"That includes letting you marrying other people who aren't me," Wonwoo confesses. The tips of his ears are bright red. "I-I can't believe I'm saying this, but . . . I think, um, I'm a little insane for you. Maybe even in love with you?"

You scoff tearfully, folding forward, but this time, not out of sadness. You slip your hand out of his and reach for the collar of his light blue button-up, noting how the navy blue tie was lopsided. He must've really been in a rush today if he showed up this disheveled and only prepared with a bread twist tie ring.

"You think?" you ask as you pull him close. His footing stutters and his hands latch onto your waist. The toe of his shoes are gripping onto the pavement, keeping himself from tipping over. Wonwoo pulls you closer until your chests where flush against one another. You were expecting it, but it still took you by surprise when he gives you a fleeting peck that has you chasing after him.

"I know," he mutters against your lips. "You're stuck with me."

And, you don't think you'd mind.

#AHAHAHAHAHAHA IDK WHY BUT THESE KINDS OF WONWOO STORIES ALWAYS GOT ME A LITTLE #>.<#hehehehehehehe #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo angst #seventeen angst #twogyuu:writing

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willowsnook · 7 months

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Can you write something about andrei iosivas (yoshi on the bengals). It’s his bday and he scored a touchdown today :)) thx

hehe yes

Andrei Iosivas x Reader

summary: It's your bf Andrei's 24th birthday today and he scores his first NFL touchdown.

_________________________________________________________

Happy birthday baby! I love you so much and know you are going to kill it today. Can't wait to see you :)

You sent off the text to your boyfriend Andrei right when you woke up. You were sad you didn't get to start the morning with him but it being gameday meant he was staying in the team's hotel by the stadium. You met Andrei during your junior year at Princeton and the two of you had been inseparable since.

After he was drafted earlier this year your job search was immediately changed to looking in Cincinnati and you were lucky to land a job downtown in marketing. The two of you shared an apartment nearby and you were starting to love post-grad life.

"Knock knock," you heard your sister call, coming through the front door. Andrei had been annoyed when you copied a key for her but you knew he really didn't mind. You pulled yourself out of bed and headed towards the kitchen where she greeted you with a bag from your favorite bagel place.

"I love you so much," you said as you took a bite.

"Of course you do, now let's get ready."

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

You made it to the stadium in record time which for you was only 10 minutes before kickoff. Today you opted for a very oversized Andrei jersey with thigh-high black boots. Andrei gets free tickets for you every game so you and your sister were sitting in the same section as other player's families. By the time you made it to your seats the team was kicking off and you quickly spotted Andrei locked in on the sideline. You were a bundle of nerves as always, especially because the season wasn't going as great as everyone expected. The nerves got worse during the game as it was back and forth, tied at 7 heading into the second quarter.

With 12 minutes until the half, the Bengals had driven down to the 3-yard line and you clutched your sister's hand. Joe stood in shot gun, faked the ball to Joe Mixon before being forced to scramble. Your heart was pounding as he stepped forward to throw; the pass ripped through the air towards the left side of the end zone and right into your boyfriend's hands. Both your arms flew up as you started screaming and jumping around with your sister.

Andrei was congratulated by his teammates and trotted back to the sidelines searching the crowd for you. The second your eyes met he smiled and blew you a kiss.

The rest of the game went by and the Bengals managed to pull off the win. As fans began to clear out you stayed chatting with another player's fiancee in the stands. Eventually, security let the families on the field and it wasn't long before you felt a familiar pair of arms pick you up and swing you around. You squealed and threw your arms around his neck.

"Baby! Happy birthday, you were so great," you said smiling. He smiled down at you before grabbing your chin to pull you in for a kiss.

"Well yeah, I had my good luck charm in the stands," he said cheekily. You rolled your eyes playfully swatting his chest. "I have a good idea what my present can be," he said looking at you intensely. You took a sharp breath of air before tapping his nose.

"After your party, if you're good." He laughed and brought his mouth to yours once again.

#cincinnati bengals #andrei iosivas #bengals imagines #nfl imagines

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synthaphone · 4 months

Text

my take on NC UCs now that we have more info:

lukewarm on the relines (some look better than others, i do not like the complete rework of the eye shape on the chia at all and am worried about what that might mean for the kiko)

cautiously optimistic about them dipping into unreleased pet art like the grey draik and darigan poogle

happy that there wont be a difference between old and new UC pets (the black market for those things was godawful and im not sympathetic to anyone who’s upset about losing their status symbol cred. you got your day in the limelight you’ll live)

dont really have an opinion on users not needing to have the pet painted the color you want beforehand (the ridiculous inflation of basic mps and shit in preparation for this is awful, so if they still require you to have your pet be the right species then RIP cybunny fans)

nervous about how much they’ll cost + if they’ll make it some kind of awful gambling shit. praying its not a mystery capsule deal.

how costly and how accessible they are will determine whether i’ll buy any of the damn things. like if they bring back the halloween draik, disco kiko, robot kiko, or the unreleased darigan kiko and they look faithful to the original art for those, i’ll be tempted

#i need a text post tag #neopets

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

Text

A Late Night Last Minute Request | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: i’m ripping up my carpet this took so long. MY BAD. i wrote an entirely different piece and then hated it LOL HERE WE ARE. (also to the request about learning more about winnie’s mom… here you go babes)

warnings: Mentions of death, pregnancy, miscarriages, abortions, past vague food insecurities, cussing. mentions of canon typical missions. gaz is super sweet and i love him

Summary: Laswell catches Simon at the supermarket, to which he brings bad news home. There's only one thing he wants - a last minute request.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

“Told you not to bother me.”

Laswell looked apologetic as she stood in the small aisle of the market with Simon, the folder in her hand looked hefty and he didn’t appreciate being interrupted on a Sunday with Mellie almost asleep in his grasp. The little baby curiously gazed at Laswell, her body still curled into Simon’s chest. “Was important. Sensitive information, couldn’t have your wife looking through it.”

He grunted in response. He snatched the manila folder from the Station Chief, he didn’t have to move Mellie between arms since she was secured to his chest with a black muslin drape - tied to his body and underneath his leather jacket, but she could still look around. He opened the file, skimming through the information and committing it to memory. He’d see it before, but one thing struck him as strange - the target’s latest location was London. He had never left Sicily the few years the higher-ups had been watching him. The man knew crucial information about the Russian Mob and was going to be put in Task Force custody as soon as they could find the bastard and keep him in one spot. The target had a knack for slipping out of everyone’s fingers, and for never being able to be photographed.

Mellie cooed from his chest, her little hand gripping the muslin. He looked back up to Laswell, closing the file. It was Sunday and he was looking through a damn target file when all he was supposed to be doing was getting milk and cat food, now that he still had Missy in his office. “Let me guess, it’s been pushed up?”

Laswell nodded.

“Great.” He turned away, grabbing a carton of milk.

“We’re taking König out of the mission and putting Soap and Gaz in.”

He frowned behind his medical mask, turning back to her.

She crossed her arms. “It’s in three days. I will be staying with your family until König and Roach are able to get there to take my place.”

“Why?” He glared at the woman, hand coming to settle on Mellie’s back.

“A precaution. He’s a little too close to us for comfort.”

“Don’t fuck with my cat while you’re there.” He answered, handing the folder back to Laswell. “Just feed it. She doesn’t know that it’s even in the house yet.”

“A birthday present?” Laswell remarked with a smile, Simon stared at her.

“Not for my wife, no.”

She nodded before taking a step back. “I will see you soon, then.” She turned away then, walking away and turning out of the aisle. The only clue that told him she had gone was the little ring of the door as she opened it, then it ringing again when the door closed.

Simon turned back to the refrigerated section, hand absentmindedly rubbing his daughter’s back. The little girl didn’t make a sound as he moved around the small store, scanning the aisles for something that dumb kitten could eat. Every time he tried to take it out of the house to drop it off at Soap’s, Winnie would follow him and ask what he was doing with the box. He couldn’t make it past his front door anymore with that box, she would appear out of thin air - a trait she apparently learned from him.

He turned down another aisle, the carton of milk made his hand begin to throb from the cold as he noticed a small boy in the aisle as well. Simon glanced down the aisle, seeing toiletries, microwave meals, cans of food and crisps - the blonde haired boy with dirty clothes was staring at the crisps with intent. Simon noted he probably wasn’t any younger than eight, the kid had only a couple pounds in his hand.

Simon easily moved down the aisle, dodging the kid’s little body as he then scanned the cans - hitting jackpot when he spotted a few small cans of tuna. As soon as his hand grabbed a can, he heard a woman’s voice speak towards the boy, “Love, c’mon. I don’t have enough for those.”

The Lieutenant observed the small woman out of the corner of his eye, in a ratty old sweater and pants that have definitely seen better days. She looked tired, her purse was definitely one she had bought for cheap - her trolley only had a box of pasta, a jar of pasta sauce, and two water bottles. It pulled at a string in his head, reminding him of a time where his mother only had twenty quid to get her and her two boys food for the whole week, his father had spent the rest of the money on whatever he wanted - alcohol, drugs, prostitutes. He had moments just like the little boy behind him, wanting something from the store yet unable to afford it. He had protected Tommy when he was ten because his little brother had pocketed a chocolate bar, Simon had taken a beating from his father for not teaching his brother better. If he looked for it, he’d find the silvery scar on the back of his arm from that belt buckle breaking skin.

“Dada.” Mellie cooed from his chest, he instantly looked down to her. Her big brown eyes that looked exactly like his looked so tired, he gently pet her head.

You’ll never go hungry if I have something to do with it. He remarked to his child in his head as he only grabbed two small cans of tuna, the tin’s logo blue and showing what looked like a swordfish. He held them in his free hand before noticing that the boy had gone, as well as his mother - he could vaguely hear her hushed words from another part of the small corner store. He turned around then, eyeing the small selection of crisps that the young boy had been only moments prior.

He plucked a bag of each of the two kinds the boy had been debating over and turned down the aisle, moving towards the till.

The elderly woman behind the counter had placed down her large book as soon as he approached, his daughter gently murmuring on his chest as he placed his five items on the counter. She had dark brown hair, wisps of gray in her tied back pony tail. She began to punch in the amounts for each item, he balanced on the heels of his feet. One hand dug into his pocket, pulling out his worn wallet you had gotten him on your first anniversary. It was a shiny black leather, worn on the edges but still something he’d always cherish. He opened the wallet, pulling out forty quid.

“That’d be ten quid.” The woman spoke softly, her voice kind.

He handed her twenty quid, saying, “Can you bag up the crisps separate?”

The lady nodded, pulling out two small brown bags. She separated the items and bagged them before handing him back his change, then pushed the bags towards him. “Have a good day.”

Simon took the bag with the crisps, slipping the money in before handing it back to the cashier. “There’s a mum and her son in here, do you mind giving the bag to them?”

She furrowed her brows. “That’s… very kind of you. May I ask why?”

Simon looked over his shoulder, down the store to see the little boy staring at a small selection of candy. He could almost see his little brother in the boy’s place, little grubby hand grabbing the chocolate bar and hiding it in his mum’s purse. Simon turned back to the cashier, mumbling a small, “Thank you.” He took his bag of milk and tuna and turned away, going through the same door that Laswell had left through only five minutes prior.

The air had cooled significantly, Simon tugged on his coat to cover Mellie more as he started to walk down the lane towards the tram stop. Sure, it was a corner store but it was still a tram ride and a walk back home - so he had a lot of thinking to do.

He has always hated leaving you and Winnie alone, but this would be his first time leaving Mellie. The baby strapped against his chest was obsessed with him, he knew it would break her little heart when he didn’t come to comfort her in the middle of the night - and honestly, it would break his heart too. You could say that he was going soft, and he would agree - because children need kindness, not a father whose problems are projected onto them.

He moved the bag into the crook of his elbow, his hand tugged up the zipper of his leather jacket up to Mellie’s shoulder, just to keep her warm. He didn’t expect it to get so cold so quickly, but it’s England. He patted Mellie a little, to which the little baby cooed, “Dada.”

“I know, Bug.” He murmured, moving the bag back into his hand. “We’ll be home for dinner soon.”

It had rained in the morning, leaving the day humid and letting the evening mist roll in. He wasn’t a fan of fog, knowing that anything could be lurking around a corner. The tram station was close, he could see it through the light fog. He began to speed walk, still keeping an eye out for his surroundings.

As soon as he stepped onto the platform, the tram rolled into the small stop. It looked empty, the late afternoon rush had already come and gone. He quietly hurried onto the tram, finding a seat near the middle as the doors began to beep, alerting they were about to close. There wasn’t another soul on the tram, he was silently thankful for it. He settled his paper bag with milk and tuna in it on the seat beside him, now resting his hands on his daughter’s head and her bottom to keep her close to his chest and to keep her warm. It reminded him how just more than four years ago, this was what he was doing almost every day: baby Winnie strapped to his chest, a bag of groceries sat beside them and him sitting down, exhausted. Winnie was always such an easy baby, it was a precursor for how much a terror she was to you when she was a toddler. He was sort of glad the baby strapped to his chest now was a happy baby, but that she also had a handful of times a week where she got upset. He hoped it meant she’d be an easy toddler.

He looked out the window as he heard the doors close, watching street lights come to life as the train began to move. With the baby asleep on his chest, he took the time to relax against the seat. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to just think, eyes watching trees pass by. The houses looked like the ones on the street that Winnie’s mom lived, it scratched something in his heart.

Grace de Havilland was a beautiful woman, a woman he had cherished for most of his life. A woman he had gone to grade school with and known almost all his life - wavy chestnut hair that her daughter had to match, gray eyes, and a woman who took no shit. That’s what he always liked about her and what he liked about you too, but she was always just as hot-headed as him. She was his on and off girlfriend since they were twenty one, he was just always so scared of what would happen to her after what happened to his family when he was twenty.

She got pregnant right before he was promoted to Lieutenant, and on a cold fall afternoon, kneeling on the floor of his girlfriend’s kitchen, Simon Riley learned he was going to be a father. All he heard was ‘three months’, ‘my birth control failed’. And he did something that he has regretted ever since.

He stood, turned, and left. And Grace had let him. He had ran away, literally ran all the way back across town to where he lived. He wasn’t proud of it, he punched a few holes in his walls - believing he was a fucking idiot for even trusting her. He knew that it was never her fault, that he was just as at fault as she was. He was angry at himself for even getting her into this mess, that the baby would get her killed by his enemies.

Simon had got over himself too late, but he only knew that in hindsight. She was only six months pregnant with Winnie when he showed up at her door, she was right to slam the door in his face. He kept knocking until she answered again, tears in her eyes and telling him to piss off. He begged her to let him help with the baby, that he would work on himself if that meant he could see his child. That if she wanted to, he would do his best to be there for her. She agreed after he showed up to her house every day for a week, telling him that he couldn’t run again. He did almost everything Grace asked the last month she was alive.

Grace started talking about maybe thinking about names the last morning she was alive. He had made coffee, she had commented how it wasn’t good for him. He shrugged, downing the whole mug before setting it in the sink. He had the day off, he was going to spend it fixing up the crib in the nursery while she drove to her mother’s house in Liverpool. She was going to spend a few days there, he had put her suitcase in her trunk last night. She had trusted him to watch her house, telling him that she’d be back in a couple of days for a doctor’s appointment. He only pressed his hand into her round belly, telling her that’d he’d be here.

Ghost doesn’t wish, finds it to be not worth the effort. Simon, though, wishes he never has to hear that phone call again - especially if it’s about you. He would lose it, he would physically break into a million pieces.

“Mr. Riley, we’re escorting your daughter to North Manchester General Hospital, she’s not in stable condition. You need to come right away.”

There was a small mmm! from his chest, Simon was instantly torn from his thoughts as he gazed down, his eyes settled on the child who looked exactly like the woman he loved. Her brown eyes blinked at him, her little hand reached for his face. His hand took hers in his own, letting her squeeze her tiny baby hand around his index finger. She whispered, “Dada.”

“Almost there,” He answered, looking up at the screen above the exit doors, seeing that their stop was next. He looked back down to his daughter, taking in the curious eyes that matched his and her face that looked almost exactly like yours. His other hand came to gently pet her head, Mellie giggled.

Three days would come and go too fast, he reflected. I don’t ever want to leave you and make you think I’m gone forever. He had watched Mellie grow for the past ten months, something he did with Winnie. And him leaving again was something Winnie was used to, but he didn’t want Mellie to be used to it too.

He wouldn’t mind having another baby but not until you were mentally prepared for the next one, the time he spent everyday with his girls made him a better man. Even the days when they’re more intrigued by you than him, it was the times where Winnie would sit on his bathroom counter and brush her teeth while he brushed his - the days where you hadn’t gotten up early, so he would pull Mellie’s hair into a little pigtail and braid Winnie’s hair anyway she wanted, even if he was never good. He was terrified that something could happen to his family while he was away, that he had no way of protecting them when he had always promised to. That’s one of the reasons why he didn’t want another one, it’s hard enough to handle a kid and a baby, it would be a lot harder to deal with a kid, a toddler, and a baby. He knew you would protect the girls with your life, but he didn’t want you to. He wanted to protect you before they even thought of hurting you or his babies.

The thought of early retirement was heavy on Simon’s mind. Maybe he should, he could spend his days spending time watching his girls grow - he could stay with you the whole pregnancy if you wanted another baby. He could help Winnie with her homework when she got old enough for it, he could take Mellie to her first day of school.

“One of these days,” He whispered to his daughter, hearing their stop be called by the intercom. He stood, one hand grabbing his bag while the other was still being held captive by Mellie. “I’ll never leave again.”

The walk from the tram station was only about two blocks, but it went by quickly since he just wanted to get home. You were making dinner, all you were missing was milk - that’s why he found himself walking to and from a tram in the evening. Simon looked up to his porch as soon as his home came into view, he could recognize that familiar baseball cap from miles away. His daughter was running around the yard, throwing her little bear in the air as Gaz sat on the porch steps, holding what looked like Winnie’s favorite doll.

“Gaz.” Simon called, the man looked up from Winnie and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Hey LT.” He stood up, but then there was a loud screech of “No!” from Winnie. Gaz immediately sat back down, keeping Winnie’s doll faced towards her. “Your girl’s keepin’ me hostage.”

“It’s getting cold, get her inside.” Simon walked up the stairs, hearing Winnie squeal with delight as soon as she heard him.

“Dad! Dad!” Winnie almost screamed, darting towards him and almost tripping up the stairs, her arms immediately grabbed his leg and she held on. “Dad, Uncle Soap and Uncle John are here!”

Simon paused, only a foot from his front door and he turned to his sergeant, who now stood beside him and chuckling to himself. He moved the bag towards Gaz, saying, “The milk’s for Y/N, then put the bag in my office.”

“Oh, where the Missile Launcher is?” Gaz wore the largest shit eating grin as he took the paper bag; Simon had half a mind to take the sergeant’s baseball cap and smack his face with it.

But he didn’t. He only glared at Gaz, lowly saying, “Soap’s a fat mouth.”

Gaz smiled at him. “That he is, sir.”

Simon waved him off as his now free hand went and opened the front door, answering Gaz, “Quit callin’ me sir here. You’re in my house.”

The younger man beamed at him, following him inside the house as Simon dragged Winnie in, her wrapped around his leg and chattering. Gaz helped his friend by grabbing Winnie off of her father’s leg, arm still holding the grocery bag as Simon walked into the front room, letting Gaz pass with Winnie. He tugged off his leather jacket after unzipping it, pulling it off and moving to put it on the coat rack. Mellie chirped from his chest, he patted her little frame before sliding off his boots - the laces only stuffed into the side of the shoe. He pushed them towards the coat rack with his foot before he turned around, heading into the kitchen where you were.

You were everything that he needed from Grace. Patient, stubborn, loving, an asshole when you needed to be. You put him in his place and never made him feel stupid or like he was worthless. He had earned your trust, your love, and the way you held your head high when he needed you.

You were making pasta tonight. You had told him all about it all day, since it was Saturday and the Task Force surprisingly had nothing to do. You didn’t even ask him to call them, you were on the phone by noon and telling them when dinner would be. Here you were, skirting around your kitchen in one of Simon’s sweatshirts and a pair of leggings. You would argue with him that the outfit was nothing special, but he would still tell you that you were beautiful. He made his footsteps silent, using his weight like a cat to try and scare you-

“Dada!”

He looked down to his daughter, but her little head was facing you as you turned to him. Your hand reached for your baby, a smile on your face as you smirked, “Hi Mellie!”

“Say Mama,” He smiled as your hand rested on Mellie’s side, the baby trying to escape from the drape she had been so comfortable in for the past hour or so. You kissed Mellie’s little head, she whined with annoyance when you moved away from her to kiss his cheek. “How’s it goin’?”

“It’s going.” You answered, moving back to the stove as you began to stir your sauce. “It’s been a while since I’ve cooked so much.”

“‘m sure it’ll be fine.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, hand gently settling on your lower back. He ran his hand up and down your back, you glared at him from the corner of your eye. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

Your hand turned down both burners before turning to him, making his hand come to rest on your hip. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes unfocused - his daughter on his chest kicked her little legs against him. “Why do you think anythin’s wrong?”

“You run your hand up and down my back instead of circles, that means you have something to tell me.” Your left hand rested on Mellie, the baby cooed as you continued, “What happened?”

Simon frowned underneath his face mask, unsure of just how observant you were of him. Did you know all of his little tells? Would you even tell him that you did? “The boys are here tonight, I don’t want to worry you.”

“Simon,” You sighed, your other hand coming to rest on his arm. “I’m going to overthink it during dinner and I’d rather know what I’m going to be upset over right now.”

His voice was low when he hooked a piece of hair around his finger, your hand squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“We’ve got three more days.”

Simon could really never say that he was leaving, that the deployment was soon - it was always how many more days until he was gone. When he said he was leaving or that the deployment was a certain day, he found that it made it feel real. That it made him feel worse when he left.

Your hand patted your daughter’s back, the other still squeezed his arm. Your eyes fell to the ball chain around his neck, the ID tags hidden by his t-shirt. He could spot the disappointment in your face and it felt like a punch to his gut; he was also used to waking up in the same bed as you, watching you stir awake and kissing your face.

“Just two more nights?”

He couldn’t stand the way your eyes looked back up to his, fear of him not coming home was a look he could never get used to. He merely nodded, feeling Mellie squirm on his chest. Two more nights before he really became something you had never known, the monster caged in his center.

“We’ll have a good night with them,” He whispered, moving forwards to hover his lips above your forehead. “Let me savor my time with my family.”

“I wouldn’t ever say no to that.” You murmured, your hands now dipping into the muslin tied against his chest - taking your baby into your grasp as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

He pulled away, hand coming to gently smooth down Mellie’s hair as she smacked her little head into your shoulder. He gazed down at you, seeing your face light up when Mellie gazed at you.

“I’ll come home.” He spoke, his voice certain.

You nodded, beginning to bounce on the balls of your feet as you whispered, “You better bring those boys home too.”

There was a chorus of laughter from the dining room, it burst the bubble of sanctity between you and him - yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset. You kept your girl against your chest, gazing up at your husband.

“I don’t want to skip a place setting for our family dinners.”

“LT!” There was a knock on the doorway of the kitchen that led to the dining room, he turned to look over his shoulder to see Gaz, a smile on his face. “Could I steal the little one? Trying to prove that I’m the favorite, not Soap, sir.”

He turned back to his wife, who handed him his daughter before turning back to the food on the stove - you were smiling. He then moved towards Gaz, the little baby curiously staring at her uncle as he said, “Told you not to call me sir in my house.”

Gaz held out his hands towards Mellie, she giggled a little before reaching for him. Gaz took her in his arms, settling her on his chest as she tried to reach for his hat. “You gave me my nieces, sir. So I respect you as my superior and as my brother.” He took off his hat, eyes still on Mellie as he handed it to her.

Simon, who stood onto a couple feet away, was caught off guard. It was a silent understanding that the four of them were like brothers, at least between him and Price, but hearing it come from Gaz? A man with an opinion that Simon also valued? His cold heart thrummed with a warm sensation. “Get back in there.”

Gaz glanced to his lieutenant, a smirk on his face. “Yes sir.” And he disappeared back into the dining room.

Simon turned back to you, gazing at the small smile on your face as he walked back towards you. You were faced towards the food, his hand came to rest on your lower back again. “He’s such a sap-“

“Do you want another baby?”

You turned to face him again, looking up at his face with a small smile. His entire brain seemed to vanish, only blinking at you. He can’t keep manifesting these things. “You’re not pregnant.”

You rested your hands on his chest before looking back at the pans on the stove, humming, “Well, I think I am.”

His hands grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him with a large smile. “You’ve only had a few months to recover, and-and I know that we-“

“We don’t have to keep it if you’re not okay with it.” Your hand moved up his chest, feeling his ID tags through the thin t-shirt. Your fingers tapped the metal, hearing the two tags clinking together. “We both have to be ready.”

“No, no,” He pressed his forehead to yours, his heart battered against his rib cage like a baseball bat. “I’m ready. Are you sure?”

Rubbing his collarbone, you murmured, “Two tests. One was negative but the next one was positive. It’s more likely that it was a false negative since there was a positive.”

“Call the doctor in the morning,” He pressed his lips to your forehead, arms moving to hold you to to his chest. “I’m ready. I promise I’m ready.” One of your hands rested on his shoulder, your head moved to slide into his neck - a perfect fit against him.

You thrummed your fingers against his chest, hearing his blood rush through his neck and speaking, “Let’s just enjoy the company tonight, okay? We’ll tell them when I get past two months.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Your arm pressed between your chest and his moved to wrap around him, you murmured, “Of course.”

“Stay safe while I’m gone.” He pressed a kiss to your head before he moved away, moving his hand to graze the side of your stomach. “Promise?”

A smile on your face, nothing but hope in your eyes for him to come home safe and sound.

“I promise.”

But sometimes promises are hard to keep.

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