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pupcuck · 2 months

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BLIND ITEM !

ft. og re4!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. actor au, smut, leon is an ass, some misogyny duh, reader vomits once like non-sexual context, breaking and entering, dub-con that turns to just consensual sex, only one threat of violence :3

note. comm for the sweetest ever @liableperfections / 🪩 anon :3 plot credit goes entirely to her literally had to cut so many words down it was 10k before bc i was so excited ab it so if it seems choppy I’m so sorry… 😭 ignore my attempt at navigating la.. it’s so confusing usa system is so confusing .. ignore any typos :3 feedback n rbs always appreciated!!! REPOST CUZ TUMBLR HATES ME.

Malibu Beach is a terrestrial paradise. A post-apocalyptic Eden of sorts ‘cause there’s no tree of knowledge or any apples— Only thing Malibu Beach and Eden have in common is the naked ladies. It’s the best part of both. Which to Leon is factually correct, but to be politically correct as Hunnigan, his PR manager, would say it’s an opinion.

No need for serpent-induced bedlam, hedonism is at its peak, the fall of man is in full swing. There’s more snow than grains of sand. Leon’s world comes to life in bottle greens and muted blues, water glittering like a diamond behind the dimmed lenses of his aviators.

He snags a cabana close to the shore, draping curtains to keep him safe from blinding cameras and prying eyes and drab women who are more naked than they are clothed. From afar it’s a great sight. Up close it’s a whole lot of cellulite and over-plumped lips and over-plucked brows. Leon’s not picky, his standards are not high, he’s only asking for the bare minimum. Nice face, nice ass, nice tits— It’s expected, but it’s not an expectation ‘cause that would mean girls have to try and live up to it, but most of them come that way. Well, they’re supposed to come that way, but some girls got a little busted on the flight over from heaven.

Ashley faces him, she should be careful when Leon’s around, he pulls on bikini strings more than he tugs on his own dick, and her bikini has started to look especially stringy.

“Can you get my back?” In the light, her lashes twinkle like gossamer wet with morning dew.

Don’t need to ask him twice. Leon’s hands traverse the plains of her back, he coats her skin in lotion like the finest of pâtissiers would a cake, angling the spatula downwards to smooth thick buttercream into pastel swirls of perfection. It’s only SPF10 ‘cause Ashley’s more focused on getting an even tan and less worried about skin cancer.

They’ve been hanging out between filming. Ashley pisses him off with her hoity-toity shit, someone swapped out her brains for that rack, but she’s hot so Leon keeps her around. And to be completely honest, his perpetual state of ennui had been smashed like brittle glass by Ashley alone. If it wasn’t for her, he’d still be riding the Raccoon City wave. Biggest blockbuster to come out of 1998. That’s a big feat. Competition was big names like Deep Impact, The Horse Whisperer— Oh, who is he kidding, nobody remembers that crap, but everybody remembers Raccoon City, the Resident Evil sequel that hit the ball out of the park.

The Resident Evil series is on its fourth instalment, and Ashley Graham insisted he come back to reprise his role; she wanted to act alongside Leon S. Kennedy and no one else. She stinks of money and Chanel Cristalle. Her dad is the studio head, so Leon’s kissing up to her, takes her cruising in his Bugatti Veyron up and down Rodeo Drive. They never breach the Platinum Triangle, he fears Ashley’s diaphanous skin would erode the moment unfiltered air hits her, melt off her bones in fleshly strings until there’s a skeleton rattling around in his passenger seat.

Ashley’s back is real nice. Like, the skin is super clear and creamy white and her shoulder blades stick out the same way a slinky feline’s do. If he could use anorexic as an adjective he would. Not quite, but almost.

“That feels so good, Leon.” He catches the tail end of the glance she casts over her shoulder, it’s flirty and he knows what’s coming next. Ashley’s spine straightens, skin pulled taut to the jagged bone, she twists her upper half and pouts directly at him. She pouts a lot for someone so scared of wrinkles. but when you’re this rich, the de-ageing secret is just Botox he guesses.

“C’mere,” Leon adopts a wider stance, spreading his thighs so she can curl up between them like a cosy pup in bed. “Hey, cutie.” He traces a thumb over her lips which are a milky shade of pink, fingers curling up beneath her chin to tilt her head up towards him.

She’s giving him bedroom eyes. Feathery lashes fanning his skin with the pace at which she bats them, like hummingbird wings beating against the wind. Leon is so going to get laid. Ashley’s nails rake over the sinewed flesh of his sculpted thighs, a testament to his athleticism, he does all his own stunts you know? Shit, he’s about to get the sloppiest head of all time, his dick is about to be degloved by that perfectly puckered pout, suction must go crazy—

In a single sweeping motion, the flimsy curtain is drawn back, fluttering in the same way Leon’s gut lurches. He can’t tell the difference between butterflies and nausea. It all feels the same to him. He half expects to be struck dumb by celestial flashes of camera light that gets him hotter than the sun.

However, in a much more pleasant turn of events, he spots a black whale tail that leads his sharp eyes to a bead of sweat dripping down a toned abdomen— Her belly button sticks out which Leon hates, but those tiny hotpants make up for her faults. They’re so short the flappy pockets are visible, distressed denim fringe brushing nice thighs that have got to mean an even nicer ass is right behind.

The face is even cuter. Round cheeks yet to shed baby fat, the apples smattered with charming freckles, her reddish ponytail is stiff with salt water. “Move,” she demands in a dictatorial fashion as if the world would bend to her will, rolling over and baring its belly like an appeased dog under her command.

Leon, against his better judgement, stays put. Who even are you, lady? The audacity of some girls, must be a fan of some kind. A clammy hand lands on his leg. Feels more like a dead fish left to rot on the docks. He shivers inwardly, prying sticky fingers off of him to clarify what the actual fuck is going on.

There’s a pretty girl in your peripheral. Not Claire. She’s not pretty in the way Claire is. She’s model pretty, might be a model or an actress or both, or neither. Just plain old pretty. But, it’s not plain, it’s extraordinary really. Polly Pocket dolly plucked from her compact home— Oh, gosh, your stomach is fucking killing right now.

Life is crazy, right? One minute you’re sucking face with a cute guy from Europe, and the next minute rotgut Mai Tais are not pairing well with the sweltering Malibu heat. And now you have reached the gates of heaven, fat-bellied clouds and Polly Pocket and something firm in your hand like a muscled calf. Not like a muscled calf, it is a muscled calf and it belongs to the most devastatingly handsome man you have ever laid eyes upon.

You anticipate the sprouting of wings from his back, the halo of Malibu sunlight that crowns his dirty blond hair to form an actual fucking halo. Holy fuck. You hope God can’t read your thoughts right now. Praying is out of the question, that’s like directly asking God not to press the big red button— Everyone presses the big red button, and then God would cast you down to hell in a fit of disgust. All ‘cause you want this angel to put your thighs to your chest and fuck you boneless with his seraphic dick.

“What the fuck, man?” Is the angelic knowledge he imparts upon your dying body. You feel like you’re being cooked alive, hot oil bubbling your skin.

“What is your problem, man?” Claire’s utterance comes at the same time.

“Hey, Claire,” you greet weakly.

“Hey, babe.” The back of her cool hand rests on your forehead, the heat is going to sear her skin like a piece of Grade-A beef. “Listen, man, can you just take your girlfriend and go?”

“She’s not my—“

“Leon, let’s just go.” The blonde girl loops her arm around this divine being’s bulging bicep.

Claire closes the curtain to shield you from the sun. It brings forth a wave of relief to your sizzling body, doused in floral breeze and sea-salt-infused linen.

“Aw, babe, you’re fucked.” She fans you lightly with her hand in hopes that man-made wind is enough to combat heat stroke or alcohol poisoning or whatever it is.

“You can head back, ‘m good here,” you slur, “gonna take a nap”

“You sure?” Claire pets your head, you see past her composed exterior, inside is a girl who’s mourning the loss of that cute beach bunny who ran for the hills the moment you started to emanate the smell of sickness.

“Mhm.” You nod, a sluggish movement that makes your liquified brain slosh about in your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll come check on you later, yeah? Just stay right here for me.” She lays a damp towel over your lower half and you feel like a bit of a beached whale. Like, fucking slack and stupid and heavy with sleep. It’s so unfair. Your one day off and the excessive day drinking comes to bite you in the ass.

Your nap is plagued by divine visions - getting to sink your teeth into that angel’s biceps. So life is not all bad. At least you’ve still got wet dreams to keep you going. The sun has sunken beyond the horizon, dwindling light paints the landscape a burnt orange, the deepening blues of the water taking on a coral hue as you poke your head out past the cotton curtains.

In the distance, you spot a mildly Claire-shaped dot with a ponytail. She’s still having fun so you make no move to bother her, instead you gather your belongings in a methodical manner. Beach towel folded at the bottom of your bag, cover-up slotted neatly into the side pocket. Water bottle and sunscreen on top - making sure to check the caps on both are tightly screwed on. Purse, keys, phone. You’ve got it all.

Though you’ve regained a sense of self - whatever you were going through a few hours ago that was an out-of-body experience - a tight knot lingers in the depths of your gut. It’s lodged in your throat. You proceed to the bathrooms located near the car park, beach bathrooms are not the nicest place on earth, but you’re not going there for a relaxing retreat, you’re there to unload the unholy amount of vomit that sits in your stomach like sunken rocks in a burlap sack.

Your gait is slightly off, it’s hard to navigate the beach in rubbery flip-flops, limping as your feet are anchored into the sinking sand with each step. After a treacherous journey over the colossal (read: totally flat, flatter than a brown rat’s feet) dunes, you’re granted access to the mildewy washrooms— The door swings open and collides with your delicate skull. A surge of nausea hits your system like adrenaline, pumping through you, and you pitch forward, hands on your knees as you hurl.

“What the fuck? Are you stupid?”

His voice is like the gentle tinkering of bells or a choir of angels, it’s thick and smooth like molasses, a knife through hot butter. All of the above. Even when he’s swearing the unholiest words you have ever heard under his breath. It’s him, the guy from before. And you just missed vomiting on his feet. Narrowly. He did hit you with a fucking door though. So there’s that.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay? I saw that!” The cute blonde from before has swiftly joined his side.

“I’m fine, Ashley, she ran into me.” Ashley… Ashley…You might’ve seen her on a billboard somewhere in Hollywood. Certainly looks the type.

“Not you, asshole, oh my god, Leon. Are you serious? You hit her!” Her voice is like money. Papery thin, but there’s substance to it. Makes the world go round. Makes you happy. This concussion might be making you woozy enough to feel happy. “Oh my god, are you, like, okay?”

You clutch at the wall of the beach hut-shaped washroom, steadying yourself. “I’m good, yeah, I’m really good, thanks for asking.” The vomit is gone from your system, that’s a step forward, but now there’s an ugly bump forming on your head.

“What if you have a concession?” Ashley frets, she makes no move to step closer as she would have to manoeuvre the puddle of vomit.

“A concussion.” Leon corrects, he side-steps to make a swift and graceful exit from this situation, making a beeline for the topless convertible parked a few rows over. Oh, shit this guy is like a big shot, and you almost puked on him. Keyword almost.

“Leon! Hello? We can’t just leave her!” She waves her arms at him wildly, like she’s flagging down a rescue helicopter.

“Oh no, my friend’s still here, I came in her car,” you begin, smiling sheepishly as she has made you feel a little like an abandoned puppy. Or a nuisance.

“No, no, you’re sick, like, really sick, and Leon hit you. He totally owes you.” Ashley insists, a delicate hand grasps your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip. “Get in the front.” She’s demanding not in the same way Claire is, but in the way of a spoiled little girl. It works for her, and you plop down on a leathery seat that sticks to your skin. “Leon, I’m gonna meet daddy over in Carbon, so don’t worry about me, okay?” She flutters her fingers at him. “Behave yourself!”

Shit. This car costs more than you would on the black market. That makes you nervous. The guy makes you even more nervous. The way he’s glowering at you— What an asshole. Ashley’s right, he hit you hard, you so deserve a swanky ride home.

“Are you stalking me?” He asks, sunglasses perched on the top of his head, he looks like a total asshole, levelling you up with those glacial eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you stalking me?” He’s like dead serious right now.

“Why would I be stalking you?” There’s genuine confusion on your face, at least that’s what you want Leon to believe.

“Funny,” he scoffs, “real funny.”

“I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” You blink at him stony, gaze unwavering.

You, bitch. Acting like you don’t know him, like his face isn’t plastered all over California. In every nook and cranny. From flagship stores to beige vegan cafes that are frequented by a handful of hipsters and bored trophy wives alone. “Nothing,” Leon settles on, you can play dumb all you want, but this isn’t his first rodeo with stalkers.

In your hand, your Nokia beeps, and much to his annoyance, you pick it up to make casual conversation with whatever creep that’s put you up to this plan. “No, I didn’t mean to scare you, Claire. I literally kinda, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but I’m safe, okay? I’m in a…” You trail off, casting a sideways glance at him, “I’m in a taxi right now.”

He squeezes the steering wheel white-knuckled. You’re playing with him right now, and it’s not fucking funny. A little pathetic if anything.

“Yeah, I got enough cash on me to make it back, don’t worry about it. I will, I will, yep, okay. Bye, Claire.” You drop your cell phone into your beach bag and it falls quiet apart from the prowling growl of his engine.

“Where you need to go?” Leon asks, his teeth grinding together, offset by his clenched jaw.

“Santa Monica.”

“That’s helpful,” he says dryly. “Long way over.”

“I’m just being safe.” You shrug. “It’s half an hour, where’d you come from anyway? Beverly Hills?”

“You’re being unhelpful,” he repeats to cement the fact that he is going out of his way to be an upstanding citizen and help stupid girls who walk face-first into doors no matter how stupid they fucking are. Leon’s soft spot for girls is clearly limited. “Bel Air,” he adds a moment later, “but you know that, don’t you?” It’s in every tabloid, don’t gotta be a stalker to know where he lives.

“No, I do not, I seriously don’t know who you are, man.” Your profile is nice enough, not an eyesore, lips look kissable, you would look nice at his feet he decides. Girls like you need dick in your mouth to learn a few things about shutting up.

“You got in my car.” Leon points out.

“I was forced into your car.” Comes your rebuttal.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your shit, just tell me.” Leon never raises his voice at women, that would be a brash decision, girls hear a slight shift in tone and go cuckoo. When you talk to them all nice and sweet they turn to putty with no regard for the subject matter at hand. Could be harvesting a few organs or taking a couple billion out of their trust fund, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be stuck swooning.

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Look at you, you think you’re the shit. “I can get home from the boardwalk.”

Leon is a lot of things. He is an asshole, he would feel like more of an asshole if he made a chick walk home in the dark. He swallows his pride and he swears his Adam’s apple bulges out further than usual. “I’ll take you home, no sweat, I owe you one.”

“I’m good, I want to walk.” You are one stubborn bitch.

“You could use the walk,” Leon says, a slip of the tongue. He didn’t mean anything by that. Listen, it just came out. Promise. You’re testing his fucking patience.

You bristle beside him, to his surprise you make no move to insult him in turn. “Who are you, even?” It’s thrown over your shoulder coolly. “Like, am I supposed to know you?”

“Leon,” Leon says, and to his knowledge there are no other Leon’s in Hollywood - Leonardo DiCaprio does not count.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” You’ve gotta be messing with him. It’s working, you’re driving him insane.

“Okay, sure.” He bites his tongue, and soon enough you tell him your address. Not the nicest part of Santa Monica, not the worst part. Definitely not Downtown L.A. so that’s good.

The velvet sky is frosted by stars, and it is a beautiful night for road head which Leon really fucking deserves for putting up with so much shit. If it were Ashley by his side he would’ve been forced to pullover more than a few times on the drive over to The Flats.

He pulls up in front of a house that looks to be made of paper mache. Wow, you’re slumming it. Leon makes an unmitigated promise to himself to never be seen around these parts ever again. The air is different, and there’s so many bad smells and oh my lord is that a homeless woman? He better leave before she knocks on his car door to offer him a good time.

“Bye, sweetheart,” Leon tells you because he is the prime example of a gentleman. “Not gonna thank me?”

“What an asshole.” You don’t even bother to say it under your breath, just to his fucking face after he dropped you off in this ugly, grey neighbourhood in his gorgeous convertible.

He forgets about you by morning. Leon has seen more women than a gynaecologist will in their lifetime. You’re another forgettable rack. That is until the following week. A blind item drops. He skims the page.

Blond guy… Plays a lot of action-hero roles… Good with women… Total Asshole… Something about harassment… Something about a full article dropping next week…

Sounds like Leon alright. Hunnigan is on his ass about it. Ashley is on his ass about it. The director is on his ass about it. The staff are looking at him funny. The room is spinning. Leon is going to take a prop gun and shoot himself. He’s managed to keep his asshole status under wraps, money and dick go a long way for girls— Shit, that bitch from Santa Monica. You were not an easy lay, there was no laying in fact. He didn’t offer you sympathy dick to make up for whatever he said to get your panties in a twist.

Leon checks his watch— Filming can wait, Ashley can wait, he won’t be long. Traffic is a nightmare, this sheepskin jacket is sticking to him - only time he has ever lamented having a roofless car. He shrugs off his costume, lays it over the headrest of the passenger seat. Your place is the crumbling stack of bricks tucked into the far corner of a street that is more litter than street.

He knocks on your door firmly, afraid it’ll knock down the paper walls. You don’t answer. He knocks again, taps his foot, and you do not answer. Leon tries the handle, he’s fucking desperate, okay? This film— The premiere has to go smoothly, he has to be back in the limelight and then you can go around making as many accusations as you please, send the pitchfork-wielding mob his way the moment promotions are over.

The door opens. Leaving your door unlocked in a neighbourhood this rough, oh, honey, you’re just begging for it, aren’t you? He steps over the threshold, the door clicks shut behind him, he moves forward in deliberate strides like he knows his way around. To be fair, there’s not many rooms to explore, not Ashley’s sprawling marble landing. From the top of the stairs, he hears your voice.

“Claire, is that you? I just got out the shower, wait there!”

Babe, you got ready for him? That’s cute, he hopes you shaved. The floorboards creak under his boots, climbing the stairs to face the open door of the bathroom. You’re in there, facing the mirror, wrapped in a baby blue towel. Easy access. When you spot him in the reflection, you drop the tub of cleansing cream in the sink basin, it splatters at the same moment your scream shatters the silence.

“What— How did you get in? Why’re you in my house? Get out!” All questions that Leon would answer if you shut up. You’re a stupid little thing, backing yourself into the wall until the back of your knees bump the bathtub. “Oh my god—“

“I let myself in, door was open, babe,” Leon says smoothly, “That’s real dangerous, y’know?”

You clutch at the shower curtain and almost bring it down on your head, Leon pries your fingers from the material as his hands find purchase on the fat of your hips. “Get off me— Get off, get off, get off!” Your spine straightens when he taps your cheek sharply. Huh. That worked. Is that what you need to loosen up? A nice, hard fuck. Some dick in that lonely pussy of yours.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” The guy you think you know all about. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re breaking into my fucking house, you fucking psycho, why would I want to talk to you?” Little fists hammer away at his chest, nails catching on his chest holster that looks more like BDSM gear than anything useful.

“You kidding me?” Leon captures your chin, his touch is anything but tender, a tactile intrusion that leaves crescent-shaped impressions on your jaw. “Had a lot to say in that article.”

“Is that… Is that what this is about?” You catch your breath, trying to appear nonplussed, though you tread carefully in trepidation. “The article isn’t even out yet-“ A soft whimper betrays your confident front when Leon bows his head to meet your eyes.

“Look at me when you’re speaking,” he instructs, and you do. What a good girl. “Okay, there you go, baby, continue.”

The disdain that spoils your pretty face intensifies at his words, and yet you can’t look away. Cute. Head says one thing, pussy says another. “I’m not- I’m not making Claire drop the article, this is the biggest scoop she’s ever had, and you’re gross.” You stand your ground. “You’re an asshole, I hope nobody ever has to deal with your shit again, I hope you get blacklisted, like, forever and fucking ever. I watched your shitty movies, I could do better than that and I got a D in drama class, you’re just hot and you get away with it-“

“That’s not very nice.” Leon talks to you like he is scolding a misbehaving child. Which you are. A rash little girl driven forward by noisy temerity. “We talked once, sweetheart. I wanted to go on a second date, what a shame.” He’s glad you find him hot though.

“Fuck off.”

“C’mon, you’re too cute to be using nasty words like that.” His teasing is not taken in stride, you elbow him in the gut and squirm out of his grip. Leon recovers fairly well, his fingers catching the hem of your towel, unravelling it like a spool of thread. He draws you closer, naked, wet body flush to his clothed one. Nice tits, tick, cute ass, tick, he wants to see how you’d look in a tight skirt, one that hugs your stomach and hips and the tapering of your waist. The type Hunnigan wears when she means business.

And shit. Your pussy is the only thing cuter than your face. Shaved bare like you knew he was coming. You wanted it. You did. Leon doesn’t see any other hot dates waiting for you. “Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” He coos, tracing your puffy pussy lips with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t do that…” Your voice is merely a whisper, and you’re not scared, girls like you don’t get scared. They get pissed off. Heated. Angry and upset. But never scared.

“Is this what you want, babe? Some dick ‘n you’ll shut up? Just wanted my attention.” Leon’s voice is a low rumble in your ears, he drawls like a slow trickle of sticky honey. Nothing is stickier than your cunt. He parts your lips, catching the dribbles of slick that form in beads along your slit. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wet, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?”

“No,” you croak out, throat dry from only a few minutes of disuse.

“No? You want me to stop then, sweetheart?” Leon slows his touch, it diminishes until it’s gone entirely and you whine at the loss so sweetly. “You’re not making any sense, babe.”

“Oh my god.” You suck in a breath, trembling not out of fear, but out of unadulterated rage and dizzying lust for a piece of his dick. “Fuck you.” He takes that as a Please, fuck me!

“How about we do something easier, baby.” Leon forces you onto your knees, and he was fucking right. You look so good like this. Knelt by his feet. His belt is unclipped, pants unzipped, boxers lowered. He guides his dick into your mouth, and you really are the most cock-starved thing he's ever met, ‘cause you open up and swallow him whole.

Then you do the sluttiest fucking thing a girl has ever done for him - reach back and jab your nails into the meat of his ass to force his dick deeper down your throat. “Shit, that’s right, baby— Fuck, you’re a fucking freak, huh?” Leon rewards you with a skull fuck. Balls clapping wetly and obscenely against your chin.

You gag on it, and you love it. God, he feels the pulse of your cunt through his boot when you grind yourself down on the steel toe cap. It’s round enough to do no damage, cool enough to help that hot cunt out, and the perfect shape to part your folds and stimulate your swollen clit.

Leon slaps it on your cheek a couple of times, then he tightens his hand around the shaft as you play with his balls, try to fit ‘em in your mouth like jawbreakers. Shit, fuck, his brain fucking blanks. He’s gonna cum if you don’t stop. His hand comes to rest on your forehead, hoping to snuff out the pleasure that builds too soon in his belly, you pop off his cock, refusing to stop making out with his tip, tonguing the slit like you’re getting paid to do this.

The bedroom is a couple metres away, it’s an awkward shuffle over with his lips slotted to yours, tongue running over your teeth, licking at your gums. Your back hits the handle, then less than a metre after that it hits the squeaky mattress. He kisses down your body, you smell like fruity body wash, it might be strawberry or raspberry. It smells like pink, that’s all he knows.

A sloppy kiss is placed on the very front of your mound. “You want me to play with your sticky little pussy, baby?”

“Ew,” you whimper out, nodding anyways, legs bent at the knee to bare your sweet pussy to him.

He laps at you like a dog. Eating pussy is tedious, Leon likes pushing heads down on his dick, it’s way better. But to hear you moan like that, shit he would do it a thousand times over, latch onto your clit and suck till you see stars. “Did you like that, baby? Fuck, creamed on my fucking tongue, sweet little thing.” He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Sure, Leon's going to go back to set smelling of your cunt, it’s not so bad. He quite likes it. Better the tang of pussy than sweat.

“Jus’ put it in,” you beg, “please, please—“

“I heard you the first time, sweetheart. Be patient.” Leon takes your ankles in his hands, puts them by your ears. See this? That’s when Leon can tell a girl really fucking wants him. When she holds her thighs up for him, and then she puts her palms flat to spread herself as open as she can get. “Jesus, baby, you’re a slut.” He laughs derisively, it rolls off his tongue as sweetly as any other pet name.

You’re left keening when the head of his dick sinks into your weeping cunt, your toes curl, and Leon cranes his neck to kiss your ankle. He runs his hands over the backs of your plush thighs, circling his hips as he eases into you— He’s lying. In his world, there’s no easing. Leon’s dick is mean, and he can tell you’ve been dying for a rough fuck. He bottoms out the second his head pops past your fluttering hole. Then he’s balls-to-the-wall. Like, literally. They’re heavy against your ass, slapping loudly with each measured thrust.

“Baby,” Leon starts, he’s breathless, rolling his hips into yours, “I swear on my life, sweetheart, if that shit drops I’ll beat you fuckin’ bloody.” That article dropping would signal the end of his life as he knows it. Your pussy clamps down on him at his words. “Oh, you nasty little bitch, you liked that?”

There’s a string of yes, yes, yeses! and then a string of expletives, and then a drawn-out call out of his name as he drives into you with all the force of a freight train. Your nails are scratching down his back, and your pussy is coating him in the same wetness that pools below your ass.

“Take it, baby, take it, fucking take it.” It takes one last thrust for you to come undone, your orgasm has your body going ramrod straight, and then your pussy fucking gushes. And Leon in all his years of sex and women and pussy and fucking has never made a girl do that. Half of him is convinced you’ve gone and pissed on him, the other half is sure he’s made you squirt like girls do in porn— Holy shit. He’s twenty-seven years old and he only just made a girl squirt.

You cry out as he grinds into you, his dick bumping your cervix, his pelvis grinding into your clit— And you sob, shaking your head as another burst of liquid spurts out of your cunt, soaking his abdomen, soaking his fucking shirt that belongs to the costume department—

Fuck, he’s gonna cum. He’s cumming hard. Leon’s balls tighten, and his shaft twitches as his load shoots out of the tip of his cock into your tight cunt. He didn’t pull out. If there’s one thing, he’s good at, it’s pulling out. Leon made a girl squirt, and he didn’t pull out. All in one day. What an accomplished man he is.

“Mmm.” You roll onto your front, face in the pillows as you catch your breath, still shivering as aftershocks zap at your nerve endings. Leon wipes the sweat built on his forehead, strands of his hair stuck to it. “I’m not convinced, the article’s still going up.”

What a bitch.

“Right.” He delivers a brisk swat to your ass, it elicits an involuntary yelp. “Guess I’ll have to convince you. I got a week, don’t I?”

“A week and a half,” you say, not bothering to bid him bye as he zips his cargos, “I’m pretty hard to convince.” Cheeky.

“It can be done.” Through another round of dick from Monday to Friday.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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eiraeths · 4 months

Text

more scrubs quotes as 141 members because im binging the show

———

Ghost: Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present, Man Not Caring. [Points at self]

———

Price: Do you want me to order you a clown?

Ghost: A drunk clown hurt me once

———

Soap: It sounds like you’re asking me out on a man date.

Ghost: Johnny, why are you so afraid of loving me?

———

Ghost: I don’t understand it. This wedding is supposed to be about us - how come I can’t be comfortable?

Soap: And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that you are not wearing sweats!

———

Ghost: I don’t dislike you. I nothing you.

Soap: That’s special

———

Ghost: Hey idiot

Soap: [Turns around]

Ghost: Heh. I said idiot and you turned around.

———

Soap: [after kissing Ghost] Is that a roll of quarters in your pocket or are you having a good time?

Ghost: Actually, it's a roll of quarters. [takes out roll of quarters] Laundry day.

———

Graves: Ghost!

Ghost: And there you are.

Graves: Huh?

Ghost: I was just wondering if there was anything that could really push my headache into a full blown migraine… and there you are.

———

[Standing next to Soap and Graves]

Ghost: Goodness gracious, suddenly I'm getting the most intense headache. Let me see if this relieves the pain.

[grabs Soap and shoves him in between him and Graves]

Ghost: Better! [pushes Soap away]

Ghost: Worse! [Pulls him back]

Ghost: Better! [and away again]

Ghost: Worse! Oh, I could do this all day.

———

Ghost: Mactavish!

Soap: Mactavish? You only call me Mactavish when you're mad or when we're having sex... Baby, are you mad when we're having sex?

Ghost: Sometimes.

———

Gaz: I am not addicted to Journey

Soap: [singing] She's just a small-town girl…

Gaz: [singing] Livin' in a lonely wor-rld, she took the midnight train, going a-n-y-whe-ere.

———

Ghost: [thinking] Wait, is he into me? Quick, make a bad joke and see if he laughs.

Ghost: You hear about the skeleton who couldn't go to the party? He had noBODY to go with.

Soap: A ha ha ha! That's really funny!

Ghost: [thinking] Oh that's not a fair test, that joke's hilarious.

———

Price: Since you’re not that intelligent, I’m going to speak like a caveman from now on. You bad soldier. Me good soldier. You follow.

———

Price: I’m tired of rookies complaining about being called dummos, tubbos, smokers, and whatever the hell jamokers means.

Soap: I was actually saying jokers, but i had coffee cake in my mouth.

———

Gaz: Hey, Soap, wanna get a beer after work?

Soap: Do chickens wish they can fly?

Gaz: ...I have no idea.

Soap: I like to think they do.

———

Soap: [looks up to the ceiling] Now, I know you say you love us all equally. But you don’t, do ya? I’m onto you, big man.

———

okay that’s it

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chiara-hotel · 7 months

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𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝐧𝐝: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬/𝐨

Characters: Chuuya, Fyodor, Poe, Ranpo, Sigma, Dazai & Nikolai

TW: Mentions of Fake Blood, Limbs, Clowns, Usual halloween decor

This idea is so cute so I ended up adding Chuuya & Nikolai aswell for the characters list. Anyway, hope you enjoy the hc & thank you for requesting!

—————————————————————————

Chuuya:

- Chuuya loves celebrations and celebrating

- Hes definitely the person to go all out on decorations (not even on purpose too, he just sees something he doesnt have and then buys it)

- Each halloween you open the seasonal storage to see a lot of new things

- Onto the actual decorating, he loves decorating with you

- Chuuya will make you fly with his ability to help you put up some of the decorations before letting you back down and kissing you

- You guys put up a lot of lights and other decor in higher places, just because chuuya likes using his ability on you and seeing you happy

- But don’t worry he also helps put up a lot of things

- Imagine your on a ladder and then he jumpscares you with one of the decorations

- Then comes a playful fight between the two of you

Fyodor:

- Fyodor doesnt own many decorations

- I’d say 3-6 with a few cobwebs + spiders

- But the decor he owns is definitely the scariest

- You guys are putting the decor up and all of a sudden you active it and jump back

- Fyodor would laugh at you before asking if you’re alright

- Then after that your staying behind him & helping out from the saftey of your boyfriend

- If they keep jumpscaring you he might get rid of them

- After you set up the things he owned, you bought a whole ton of decorations for inside the house

- So you suprised him with them and you convinced him to let you put them up

- He helps hold the ladder your standing on for lights, hands you stuff/decorations to add but he won’t put anything up

- He would never admit it but he finds it cute when you decorate the house

- Hugs while he’s standing there helping you, especially if he gave you the last item

Poe:

- Poe is the one who’d get scared at every single thing you bring out of your halloween decor box

- Hes hiding behind you and he’ll look adorable while hes doing it

- Definitely will help out for the non-scary decorations

- Karl also helps you guys out! and hes a big help

- Expect a lot of hugs from him (mostly from behind)

- Talks about making some new halloween mystery novels while you put up some of the decor

- Maybe he’ll even start writing if you have a little bit of decorations left

- Karl eats some of the candy though (and you guys spend 30 minutes trying to figure out where it went)

Ranpo:

- The one who doesnt find any of it scary

- Ranpo will complain at the beginning but eventually gives in just for you

- He doesn’t really help out though. Ranpo is your helper who will support by eating snacks at his desk

- On a side note: hide the halloween candy because this man will take them all

- Even if Ranpo finds a lot of the scary stuff stupid, he doesnt like some of the overly scary things

- Lights, Cobwebs, Pumpkins, Spiders, Bats are just a few things he loves

- Also those blow ups that you put in your front yard (he does that one, he must set it up)

- Ranpo expects a lot of praise for putting up the 1 decoration so give him some wont you?

- And when you’re finally done with all the decorations here expects a lot of cuddles for all of that work

Sigma:

- Sigma would want all of the decorations to be perfectly placed, so I think he would spend a lot of time on them

- Definitely overthinks the placements… a bit too much

- If hes deep in thought just hug him and ask him to help you with something else

- He likes cobwebs, carving pumpkins, jack-o-lanterns & fake graves/skeletons

- Nikolai probably gave him a clown decoration for fun so now you guys hang it at your door

- Sigma especially loves carving pumpkins with you. its relaxing and he also makes a lot of designs

- you guys definitely have the path leading to your house filled with jack-o-lanterns

- You also help him & nikolai decorate at the casino/DOA office

- Mostly because nikolai forces the both of you

- Nikolai would make comments about how cute you guys look together the entire time (and he won’t shut up until you guys kiss or something)

Dazai:

- When Dazai asks you to help him decorate his house, he doesn’t actually want to decorate-he just wants to spend time with you

- But hes so glad when you agree to decorate his house because that includes: Shoping trips, Spening more time with you, and much more

- Most of the time Dazai will complain about putting up the decorations as if it werent his idea

- The other times he’s actually helping you, maybe start bribing him with kisses to get him to work

- He likes mummys, caution tapes & fake blood for decorations

- Dazai will also secretly buy a while can of fake blood just to put on himself on “accident” he just wanted attention

- So you spend a whole hour in the shower together (you taking off the fake blood and cleaning him)

- The decorating will take 2 days or more with him because he gets lazy

Nikolai:

- Run away while you can

- Goes shopping for halloween decor with you only to pick out the scariest of items

- Your house is a literal haunted house

- Not to mention Nikolai bought some extra suprises for you to put around the house

- You got into he kitchen… Open your cupboard and BOOM a clown will pop up from the cupboard and scare you

- As for decorations he likes, scary ones, the decor with audio, clowns, blood, fake limbs but why have fake ones when he can get real limbs & blood easily

- Nikolai is also that one house on the street that has audio with screaming & scary sounds

- At this point everyones afraid of him

- Not to mention while decorating hes going to try to spook you at every possible moment

- As for the decorating itself hes prefect because of his ability!

- Nikolai can easily reach the high spots

- So yeah decorating with him will take the entire day

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aka-indulgence · 10 days

Note

Do you have any thoughts/headcanons for buckshot roulette themed au for skeletons or just in general just headcanon for the dealer?

OH MAN DO I

(these are gonna be about og dealer because i gotta fixation rn sjhf)

Strong, stable hands. Calloused hands. Dextrous hands. But can crush a can of beer. Good for hand holding… they’re warm

Teeth fall out and regrow like a shark’s would (might give them to you because he’s not all caught up on romance customs kdjfg)

Outside of his face and hands, he has a nebulous, vague body, but he can choose to have a humanoid body (He’d like using his humanoid body around you,,,)

Big chest. Big broad chest you can sleep on. He wants you to sleep on him like he’s your personal bed,

Mobster-themed outfits, naturally… (personally I love suspenders the most)

He really ‘dies’ when he loses the third round, but he always comes back. Just takes a while after he’s been shot 9+ times…

Smells like a casino

Has 0 tolerance for cheaters (because who doesn’t love a fair dealer who can turn into an angry monster?)

Pretty good at disguising his anger whenever he gets shot. But you can tell from the way his finger and mouth twitches, how eager he is when grabbing the shotgun. Especially on the third round, he seems all too happy to point that muzzle on the player with gleeful hatred on his face

I assume in canon the two red dots in the end are some sort of mechanic… robo… thing…(???) but I really like the idea of a red glow when he loses/feels a strong emotion, in short bursts. Sometimes, looking at you…

(I like imagining that you either work for him or work at the club he’s lingers in)

He doesn’t need anyone to nurse him to life after he dies. But he likes having you do it, wiping his blood and patching him up… likes seeing a pretty face while he recovers. Holds onto you while you fix him up. Stares… a lot.

He likes smelling you. Nose is used for sniffing cute humans

Gentle with his ‘kissing’. Because of his teeth it’s more like a very careful nuzzle… don’t want to nick you with his knife-teeth.

He wouldn’t want you to play the game. He’d actively dissuade you, but won’t stop you if you’re persistent.

When he’s pointing at you and it’s a live, it always misses, somehow. He acts like it’s a mistake- but everyone knows the Dealer doesn’t miss.

He likes it when you squeak every time a live misses you. He also likes that you look hesitant every time you point it at him… but always reminds you its the game.

Usually the more he’s shot the angrier and moodier he gets, the more he wants to make sure the player stays dead.

But when he’s playing with you, it’s more like… he’s shows off that even though he’s bleeding. Smiles at you after he gets back up

If you saw him play against anyone else… it’s obvious he wasn’t playing normally with you. You’re not his usual player…

Picks you up like a potato sack

100000% purrs because I’m indulgent that way. Sounds more like a truck engine

Also in terms of Sans AUs? HMF!Sans fits the role the most, and if it was an au, everything I wrote above applies to him heheheh

#buckshot roulett #dealer buckshot roulette #look i gotta get the thoughts out #or else im gonna be eaten by my fixation dkjfgh #i like the idea of hmf as dealer in an au #i also like dealer as dealer #ask #also man is there like a #dealer buckshot roulette x dealer #tag?????#the dealer x reader #dealer ask

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avonne-writes · 2 months

Note

i feel like bucky would be jealous of alex until buck needs something (big or little) and asks him like it’s second nature. this could be comfort after a nightmare or cutting his hair and i think it would make bucky realize that buck still wants him 🥲

Cross-posted on AO3

Bucky lies awake in the middle bunk he calls his, facing the cold, mold-speckled wall. Everything irritates him. The damp air, the guys' snoring, his flimsy blanket, that goddamn Tuskegee guy, Alex Jefferson or something, oh-so-fancy and for what? Sauntering in here and sticking his nose where he shouldn't. He should learn when to back off.

And why is Gale encouraging it anyway? All smiley and pink-cheeked when they're together discussing who knows what. Bucky would apparently be bored by it as Gale so kindly informed him when he tried to join them. Well, fuck him then. Fuck both of them. Bucky is fine on his own. He's completely fine.

He hears a rustle behind him, then the soft tap of feet on the ground. There’s only one person who's able to climb off the top bunk with such grace, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to talk to him. He crosses his arms tighter, pretending to sleep.

He gets it, if he were honest. Alex seems like a man full of life and a wit to match Gale's own. He still holds the cheerful, good-natured aura that Bucky flayed off himself sometime between that dreadful call to the base in London and winter in this icy hell. He's just a shell now. Going nuts day by day. Of course Gale doesn’t need him anymore. Doesn’t want to drag his skeleton around.

Fingers drum gently at his shoulder. When he doesn’t react, Gale's whole palm presses down and rocks him as if to shake him awake. Bucky shouldn't - he really shouldn't - he promised himself -

With a quiet sigh, he turns around. He couldn't resist.

In the watchtower light that comes in through the dirty window, Gale's eyes look too bright, the weary lines of his face pronounced. The shadows highlight how much weight he lost. He drapes his right arm on the edge of Bucky's bunk, then props his chin up on it. He watches Bucky like that in silence until Bucky raises a hand and combs it through his hair.

Bucky breathes out heavily again, then grabs the edge of his tattered blanket and opens his coccoon of warmth for Gale to slip into it. Gale's agile body makes the climb just as quietly as he did the way down. He has his own blanket with him, which he drapes over them both. He didn't bring his pillow though, so they have to share - facing each other, only inches away.

As the space between them warms again, they stare at each other. They don’t need to talk at this point. Bucky knows when it's a nightmare and when it's sheer exhaustion that pushes Gale into his arms, and he also knows that words have lost their power, ground into dust over the past endless months. Only the body remains, and the hints of comfort love can still push through.

Bucky's anger is gone as if it never existed. He curls his arm around Gale's back, and when Gale closes his eyes, he presses a kiss to his forehead.

#mota #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #that was such a great idea i couldn't resist!#stalag fic #jealous bucky #my writing

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bumbling-in-boogie-land · 9 months

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why can't we kiss The One Who Waits while he's a giant umm...

I adore the concept him becoming a follower and being bitter about his downfall, but then being won over and being a mushy lil guy, but man I just want big giant cat man what can I say

(also I forgot his skeleton arms, my bad)

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl lamb #cotl fanart #cult of the lamb fanart #the one who waits #the lamb #narilamb #the one who waits x lamb #narinder x lamb #cartoons #cartoonist #furry #fursona #furry art #clip studio paint

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apomaro-mellow · 9 months

Text

Eddie steals the Hope Diamond; spicy six heist au

"I thought the centerpiece of this museum was a t-rex skeleton. What’s an elephant doing here?”, Eddie asked.

“That’s Night at the Museum, man. You’re thinking of the movie”, Jonathan said from next to him.

“Kinda disappointed to be honest. I go right you go left?”

Jonathan went to the left of the entrance while Eddie went right. Nancy was speaking to them both through earpieces. Getting a map of the museum was a fine way to get a general layout. But nothing beat getting actual feet on the ground.

Eddie moved around, letting the traffic of the museum move him. He knew he was moving in a non-linear fashion, but it was hard not to double back when he saw an interesting diorama or model.

“Eddie, don’t get distracted”, Nancy warned.

“Who me? Perish the thought”, he said, fully intending to do recon in the fossil exhibit, only to pass by the hall of gems and minerals. He let out a low whistle.

“I know who you would be perfect for”, he murmured to himself. But Nancy could hear him loud and clear through the earpiece.

“Eddie…we are not stealing the Hope Diamond.”

Eddie liked jewelry. And he liked Steve. Scratch that, he loved Steve. And he loved putting him in pretty things. That diamond necklace was a very pretty thing.

“It can be our little secret Nancy. I wanna surprise Steve with something nice.”

“Then buy him a legit diamond with your cut. We have a client that we need to keep happy.”

“I can multitask.” There was quite the crowd around the diamond, watching as it rotated in its case. Obviously he knew it wouldn’t be easy to lift it, even with their team. But they were already going to be in the museum to steal something from the Ancient Egypt exhibit. Why not get something else on the way out?

He and Jonathan finished cruising the museum and returned to the apartment space they were currently using to plan this job.

As expected, Nancy had a map of the whole place, all floors included spread out on a large table in the living room.

“We start at 1200 hours”, Nancy said. “By the end of this, we should have some T-rex teeth and have enough to pad our accounts for quite some time. Eddie, did you get a good look at the teeth.”

“I did. Between me and Bucks, we should have some decent replicas in time.”

Nancy nodded. “Don’t forget to reference Jonathan’s pics too. We need them to be flawless.”

“Alright, so everybody know their parts?”, Robin asked.

“I’m one part of the distraction with a pizza delivery”, Argyle said. “Once the guy’s out there, I keep him occupied for as long as I can.”

“Jonathan and I will handle the security cameras. We go in, knock ‘em out, and make sure it switches to our pre-made loop”, Steve said while twirling a pen in his hand.

“Steve keeps guard by the door and I keep an eye on the cameras. If we need any interception, he’ll run point”, Jonathan added.

“Once everything’s set, Big Wheel and I will do the switcheroo”, Eddie illustrated by juggling some of the stones he’d bought at the gift shop. None of with were as eye-catching as the diamond.

“Once we bag the teeth, we meet up with Robin in the van and then we’re out”, Nancy said.

Argyle raised his hand up for a high five which Jonathan answered. “And another one in the books.”

Steve pulled Eddie away from the others into the kitchen and gently pressed him against the fridge. Eddie initiated a kiss, ready for some lovin’. Going over a plan always got Steve hot for some reason. Not that he was complaining.

But then Steve pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “Nancy said you’re planning on doing something stupid.”

Ah, this was an interrogation.

“Is it stupid to act on my desires and do what I please?”

“Is this like the art museum where you just had to touch that Pollock painting?”, Steve asked.

Eddie avoided his eyes. “Something like that.” If Steve kept at it, he would end up telling him everything. And he wanted it to be a surprise. He just knew the look on his love’s face when he presented the necklace would be worth more than all the gems in the world.

He cradled Steve’s face and kissed him and then kissed him again. “Just trust me, baby.”

He’d never do anything to put Steve in danger. And he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t think he could swing it.

As Nancy had planned, the op began at midnight. The pizza gambit, which Nancy had only been 40% sure would work, actually did. When Steve and Jonathan successfully made it to the surveillance room and took over, she breathed a sigh of relief. Now she only had to worry about the wild card in the group. Eddie pretty much always deferred to her leadership. But anything regarding Steve was like invoking impulse.

Nancy was working on removing the first tooth when she saw Eddie looking up at the cameras. He bit his lip and then turned to her.

“I gotta do it.”

“You realize it’s stupid and reckless, right?”, she said in a whisper but kept her eyes on the fossil.

“Love makes you crazy. But I don’t need to remind you. Madrid ring any bells?”

Nancy paused in her work. Madrid, right. “Just don’t get caught or it really will be like Madrid.”

Eddie was already making his way from the fossils to the gems. He turned his earpiece on.

“Robin, Jonathan, mind giving me a little help?”

“Holy shit”, Jonathan hissed, pulling Steve’s attention from the door.

“Nancy was right, you are stupid”, Robin said with a shake of her head as she watched the feed from the van.

“What is it? What’s Eddie doing?”, Steve asked, coming over to look at the monitors.

Jonathan changed the one Eddie was on just in time. “He’s uh, taking a little detour.”

“I’m going. Where is he?”

“Steve, stay focused”, Nancy said. “Eddie will be fine.”

They heard footsteps and Steve’s head whipped towards the door. Thankfully, he was already changed into a guard’s outfit. He stuck his head out and saw a guard headed their way. If he looked in the room, he’d see two unconscious dudes on the floor and two guys who didn’t belong there.

Steve came out and closed the door.

“Hey!”

“Hey”, Steve replied.

“What’re you doing here?”

“What am I-? What am I doing here? Why are you speaking to me like that? Like you don’t know me?”

“Because I don’t”, the guard said.

Steve let his shoulders sag a little and made his eyes a little bigger. “I know what he made was kind of a fling but I thought...I don’t know maybe it could be something more.” The guard looked taken aback but not indignant. Good. “You really don’t remember me?”

“I think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Eddie listened while Steve flirted and it both made him proud and made him burn with jealousy. He’d have just the thing to show him who he belonged to later.

He knew Nancy was done when he heard two clicks. Eddie had closed the necklace up in a box prepared just for the occasion. When he rendezvoused up with Nancy, her eyes narrowed at the box.

“So you were going to do it anyway.”

“You know me, I’m like a dog with a bone.”

They got to the van and were shortly joined by Argyle.

“How was having the easiest job today?”, Robin asked.

“Easy, my ass.”

“Yeah, your ass. All you had to do was smoke with a security guard”, Eddie said.

“It was so goddamn tedious. He just went on and on about Robocop.”

Jonathan and Steve returned just about a minute after and Eddie immediately pulled Steve into his lap.

“There’s my baby.”

“And that’s officially another one in the books”, Argyle said, high fiving with Robin. “Celebration dinner?”

“I’m in the mood for French”, Robin said.

“If you guys are going out, you can drop me and Steve off at the apartment”, Eddie said while stroking his thigh.

The other groaned but Robin made her way there anyway. If going over the plan made Steve hot, a successful one with no hitches made him hornier than anything. He was already kissing at Eddie’s neck so he wasn’t sure what they were surprised by.

The others took off for dinner, leaving them alone with the fossil teeth to deliver in exchange for cash in the morning. Steve had Eddie pressed against a wall, kissing him but this time Eddie pulled away.

“I got a gift for you, gorgeous.”

“Hm?”

“But I need you to strip first.” All he needed was Steve. Anything else would get in the way of his beauty.

Steve smirked and turned away from Eddie. Just to be cheeky, he took off his shoes and socks first. Then he turned away and took off his shirt while heading to their room. He left a trail of clothes behind him, which Eddie dutifully picked up so he wouldn’t be chewed out by Nancy later.

When he got to the room, Steve was perched on the edge of the bed, one knee up to his chest.

Eddie almost forgot his actual intention and took him right there.

“Well? My gift?”, Steve reminded him.

“Right, right. The gift.” Eddie dropped the clothes and got the box. He got down on his knees and opened up the case, presenting the necklace.

“Eddie..”, Steve’s voice was breathless and he sat a little straighter. “You didn’t...”

“I did, baby. I saw it and I thought of you.”

Eddie got up and sat behind Steve to put it on him. He kissed his nape once he was done and Steve turned so he could get the full visual.

“How do I look?”

It was as Eddie had suspected. The hope diamond was a nice piece of finery on its own. But on the neck of the most handsome man in the world, it truly shined. Eddie could understand why a blue rock had been coveted for so long.

“You make it look so good”, Eddie said before leaning in for a kiss. Honestly it was like the necklace had been made for Steve specifically. As Steve laid out under him, Eddie got to observe the work of art he was. God, he deserved to be immortalized.

“If this was just a regular gift, I wonder how you’re gonna top it when you propose”, Steve teased as he lifted Eddie’s shirt over his head.

“Sweet thing for your engagement ring, I’m giving you the moon.”

Steve’s peal of laughter turned into sighs as Eddie nipped at his chest around the necklace. He didn’t doubt that Eddie would at least try a moon heist. He just wondered how much grief the others would give them for it.

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #spicy six #platonic edancy #YES i was literally at the smithsonian #saw the hope diamond and was like #that'd look good on steve #hmmm #that's something eddie would think #and it took off from there #one of these days maybe i'll do a full fledged heist fic #with all the tropes and cliches i love #but that's for another time

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perotovar · 5 months

Text

into the beat of the night (ch 3) "self control"

moodboard by the lovely @hellishjoel, gif by me

pairing: frankie morales/enby!oc!river price (they/them) rating: 18+ (minors dni) chapter warnings: fingering, one (1) handjob, discussions of sexuality/gender (in an... interesting way), goth stereotypes abound, swearing, more cute shit word count: 3k dividers by @saradika beta: @scenaaario (ily adrienne ♥)

for notifications, follow @oakslibrary and turn on alerts ♥

series summary: frankie thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

“What’s their name again?”

“River. I already told you, Benjamin,” Frankie chuckled, taking a drink from his beer.

“Right, sorry. I’ve just never met a non… what was it again?”

Frankie, Benny, Will, and Santiago were at their usual bar that night. It was in a different part of town than The Night Owl, with a completely different vibe, but it was cozy. The four of them had become regulars and knew the staff by name.

“Non-binary person,” Will said, shoving Benny on the shoulder. “Are you listening at all?”

Benny shot his brother a look and stuck his tongue out, because apparently Benny was still five. “Of course I’m listening! Non-bi-nar-y,” he sounded it out, tapping his finger on the table with each syllable. “What does, uh… What does that like, mean, Fish?”

Frankie furrowed his brows and took another drink. “I haven’t actually asked yet. All they told me is that they’re like… both, and neither, at the same time.” He hummed thoughtfully. “I was a little distracted after that and didn’t get to ask.”

Santiago grinned, slapping Frankie on the shoulder. “Good for you, Fish.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, but smiled, thinking about the kiss he shared with River the other night. They kept texting, and he’d even asked River out on a real date, which brought the guys to the bar. It had been a year or so since his last date and he needed advice on where to take someone like River. He wasn’t as familiar with the goth subculture and thought maybe his brothers would have experience. At the very least Ben, who’d been with a few different kinds of people.

“I did look it up that night after I got home, but I’m still a little confused,” Frankie shrugged.

“Just ask them, man,” Will offered. “They seemed cool with your first question.”

Frankie nodded, a look of determination crossing his features. “You’re right. It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Frankie was sweating. Marisol was with her mom this week, so he hadn’t had to worry about having that conversation yet. He was planning on telling River about her tonight. He checked his hair in the mirror again before he left, deciding to go without his hat tonight, but worried all his nerves would deflate the work he put into it. He sighed as he messed around with the unruly curls again. This is why he stuck to hats. Frankie’s phone vibrated on the bathroom counter, startling him.

ok im ready, eddie 😉

River still thought it was hilarious that Frankie had worn an Iron Maiden t-shirt to a goth club, claiming that it fit his “old man aesthetic”, whatever that meant. This led to River referring to Frankie as “Eddie”, after the band’s skeleton mascot.

Yeah yeah i’m coming

Frankie saw the typing dots appear and disappear a couple times before disappearing completely. He sighed to himself and checked his hair one last time before leaving his apartment.

When he got to the neighborhood of the address River had given him, he checked his phone again, making sure he was in the right place. He slowly crept up the hill towards the last line of apartments and immediately his heart started pounding. Frankie really liked River. He didn’t want to fuck this up, and hoped him being a dad wouldn’t ruin that. Or his big dumb mouth.

River was standing at the bottom of the staircase of the apartment complex and waved, a huge grin on their face. Frankie stopped the truck and leaned over to open the passenger side door for them to climb inside. The scent of bergamot, clove, and sandalwood filled his nostrils again as the truck door shut. Frankie calmed down, and smiled, leaning over to give River a kiss on the cheek. “You look amazing,” he breathed, taking in River’s outfit; they had a collarless shirt buttoned up all the way, tucked into plaid pants, and nice dress shoes. All black, of course. They wore no lipstick today, their makeup was simple, and their hair was perfectly straight. It looked like they’d freshly shaved the right side of their head as well. River’s look was so new for Frankie, he couldn’t help being captivated by them every time he saw them.

“Thank you,” River smiled, heart skipping a beat. “Where are we off to?” They rested their ring-clad hand over Frankie’s larger one in between the two of them on the seat. “When you said it was a surprise, I admit I got a little nervous.”

Frankie placed his hand on the back of the truck seat and looked behind them as he backed up to leave the apartment complex. River’s eyes were glued to Frankie’s neck and subtly licked their lips at the sight of the thick muscles and veins. Their eyes moved up to Frankie’s side profile and they swooned.

“How come? Don’t trust me?” Frankie smirked, making eye contact before his eyes moved to the road, and started heading toward their destination.

River shrugged, even though they knew he couldn’t see them. “Maybe. Maybe not,” they smirked. The red light of the clock on the console caught River’s eye; 7:30pm.

“Well, that’s a shame. I had a nice dinner planned and everything,” Frankie showed them an exaggerated pout, a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, well, in that case.”

The restaurant Frankie picked might’ve been a little more… casual, then he remembered. The last time he was here was with Jackson. He shook off the memory. He was here with River now. The place was actually more like a diner, with vintage photos of women in pinup-style outfits and poses.

Frankie reached for River’s hand and laced their fingers together as he found them a table, letting River sit first.

“Such a gentleman,” River teased, squeezing his hand before getting comfy in the booth.

“I try,” Frankie smiled bashfully as he joined them on the opposite side. The light shining down onto the table lit River beautifully. He noticed that River’s button-up was actually a dark green, with subtle velvet roses all over.

They ordered their food and made easy conversation. River talked about their job as an architect. They were working on designing a building that was be built in the next couple of years in the city. Frankie found it fascinating but couldn’t focus on the words, too distracted by their calming voice and watching their mannerisms. River talked with their hands a lot whenever they got excited about something, and Frankie thought it was adorable.

“Sorry, I know I’m rambling now,” River shook their head, cutting themself off. Frankie frowned,mouth full of french fries.

“Please, continue, I don’t mind listening.”

So River did. They talked about anything and everything. Frankie interjected here and there, but was more than content to listen to River talk. When there was a lull in the conversation, Frankie’s palms started to get sweaty. Their plates were empty now, but River still had half of their milkshake left.

It was now or never. Frankie took a deep breath.

“So… I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he started. River raised an eyebrow and rested their chin on the palm of their hand, listening. Frankie cleared his throat before continuing. “Um, so I know this is a dealbreaker for some people, so I won’t be offended if you want to stop things after tonight. B-But I would like to stay friends if that’s the case.” He rubbed his sweaty hands on his thighs. “I’ve got a daughter.”

River was quiet for a second before a small smile appeared on their face. “I’m actually not surprised. How old is she?”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not. You’re an incredibly handsome man of a certain age–”

“Hey.”

“And any woman would be stupid not to make an honest man outta you,” River winked.

Frankie blinked a couple times before chuckling softly. River continued to surprise him. “Well, her mother isn’t in the picture, at least not with me. Marisol, my daughter, sees her half the time, and stays with me the other half of the time,” he explained, crossing his arms comfortably over the table. “Oh, and she’s four.”

“Aww, can I see a picture of her?”

Frankie’s heart fluttered as pulled his phone out, opening the album of photos devoted just to his little girl. He slid his phone over to River and they started scrolling through the photos with a smile on their face.

“She’s adorable, Frankie,” River hummed, returning his phone back to him. “I can tell you think the world of her. I won’t lie, I’m not really… uh, a kid kind of person. I always just planned on being the cool cousin and not a parent,” they muttered, resting their chin on their palm again.

Frankie nodded in understanding. “I totally get that. I just figured it wouldn’t be fair to you, or to Marisol, to keep her a secret, y’know?”

“Absolutely, and I appreciate you telling me,” River nodded back. “But I like you. A lot. And I’m willing to give this a shot with you. So I don’t think Marisol is a dealbreaker.”

Frankie’s heart soared at River’s words. “I really like you, too,” he grinned like an idiot, cheeks warm. “C’mon, we still have another part to this date.” He stood up and held his hand out for River to take.

After paying, the two found themselves back in Frankie’s truck heading down the highway. It was starting to get darker and the roads were clearing. They pulled up to a drive-in, but there weren’t any other cars.

“What is this, Grease?” River teased. “A diner and then a drive-in movie?”

Frankie snorted and reached out his window to pay for their tickets before finding somewhere to park. “I happen to like drive-in movies and diners, thank you very much.”

“That’s because you’re old–”

“I’m only a few years older than you,” Frankie deadpanned.

“Details.”

About a third of the way into the original Halloween, Frankie put his arm around River’s shoulders and pulled them close. River happily cuddled into Frankie’s side, loving the warmth and softness they found there.

Halfway through, River’s eyes started wandering elsewhere. They looked down at the crotch of Frankie’s jeans, and wondered what lay beyond the tight denim. They looked up at Frankie’s face and kissed the little patch in his beard that refused to grow hair. Frankie looked down at them, deep brown eyes looking over River’s features. He went from their dark-rimmed eyes, to their collarbone, and back to their plush lips, his heart pounding. He didn’t need any further convincing and started kissing River deeply, holding the side of their face.

River hummed into Frankie’s mouth and slowly crawled into Frankie’s lap. They grinned as Frankie huffed a breath against their lips, holding River’s hips in his large hands. River kissed the corner of Frankie’s mouth before moving down to the side of his neck and sucked a mark where his neck met his shoulder. Frankie shuddered, moving a hand down and squeezing River’s ass. They lifted their head and looked at the far-away expression on his face.

“Are you one of those guys that doesn’t like to fool around on the first date?”

Frankie blinked up at River, thinking about it. “I mean, no, but–” “Good,” River growled, latching back onto Frankie’s neck and sucking hard.

Frankie moaned openly at that, but pulled them away. “Wait,” he breathed. River tilted their head to the side and didn’t say anything, letting Frankie continue. “Um, I had another question.”

“Okay.”

“Well, uh. I don’t mean to kill the mood, because God, I really wanna get back to that, b-but I was curious,” Frankie swallowed, not making eye contact again. “I looked up what non-binary was after you told me and I was a little confused, and basically I just– Um, I wanna know like, how… this would… work,” he trailed off, gesturing between the two of them and at the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re asking what I have so you know how to proceed.” It was a statement, not a question, said softly in understanding. River played with the curls at the back of Frankie’s neck.

Frankie nodded. “If that’s an invasive question, I’m really sorry, and–”

“Shh,” River chuckled, pecking Frankie on the cheek. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not offended. You’re actually being really sweet about all of this. I know this is new for you.”

Frankie smiled shyly and shrugged, but let them continue.

“I was raised as a girl. ‘Assigned female at birth’, is typically what we call it,” River looked down, playing with the collar of Frankie’s shirt. “You were assigned male at birth. The doctors looked at your parts and decided that’s what you were, and you never felt like it was incorrect, right?”

Frankie nodded, listening carefully.

“Right. Well, it felt wrong to me. I didn’t really know what the feeling was growing up. It’s actually kind of a recent development for me.”

Frankie chewed on his bottom lip, one question still buzzing around his head. “How do you… How did you know? And did you… have any… surgeries? To um–” he didn’t know how to word any of this.

River laughed softly. “Yeah, I had top surgery. I no longer have breasts, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Everything below the belt is still intact,” they grinned, moving their crotch closer to Frankie’s. “The complicated answer, especially for someone so new to this, is that gender is a societal thing. How you’re perceived, presented to the world is just through the eyes of society. How you see yourself is what actually matters, though. And when all that societal bullshit doesn’t affect your life, the roles you’re ‘supposed’ to play don’t matter anymore.”

“I’m River. River is me. I don’t care how people see me. I did all of this,” they gestured to their body. “For me. Not for anyone else. Because if I didn’t, I would be unhappy. And my own mental health and happiness matters more than some so-called church-going do-gooder’s opinion.”

Frankie looked at River in awe. Their confidence and respect for themself was one of the most attractive things he’d ever seen. “You’re amazing,” Frankie breathed, surging forward to kiss them deeply. He gripped River’s ass again and pulled them closer, grinding his hardening cock against them.

River moaned softly, grinding back, and tangling their fingers into his hair. Suddenly, Frankie pulled back, catching his breath.

“Wait, does that, like…” He thought for a second. “While I was doing my research, I came across a couple other terms I didn’t know.”

River chuckled and kissed down Frankie’s neck softly. “Go on.”

Frankie’s breath hitched, speaking shakily. “Um, I’ve always considered myself b-bisexual– oh– a-and if non-binary people are technically a th-third gender, then does that change?”

“No,” River hummed, licking underneath Frankie’s ear, before taking the lobe into their mouth and nibbling.

“It doesn’t?”

River shook their head. “Bisexual is more like an umbrella term. People interpret it differently,” they reached a hand down between them, trailing their fingers to Frankie’s belt buckle and undoing it. “For example, you’ve always assumed it just meant you were attracted to men and women, right?”

Frankie moaned softly as the pressure was relieved from his hard cock, and nodded.

“Exactly. Another way you could see it is you being attracted to people that are like you,” they gripped Frankie’s cock tightly, making him gasp sharply. “And people who aren’t.” They grabbed his hand and placed it onto their crotch, grinding against him.

He was so hard he was throbbing, and so turned on his head spun. He started undoing River’s dress pants and slipped his hand down to their panties, finding their pussy impossibly warm and wet.

“Fuck,” Frankie groaned, rubbing at their clit through the fabric of their underwear. River moaned sweetly and bit their bottom lip, moving Frankie’s boxer briefs out of the way so they could grip around his cock.

“You’re so hard,” River grinned, rubbing their thumb over the tip. They started stroking him slowly, watching as the head of Frankie’s cock appeared and disappeared underneath the foreskin.

Frankie was breathing heavily, resting his head on the back of his seat and looking at River through his lashes. He moved the tips of his fingers in small circles for a few moments before he moved his fingers beneath their underwear and touched bare skin. River gasped at the contact and nodded, giving him permission. Frankie slowly sunk his middle finger inside them and started pumping in and out. His thumb rubbed in time against their clit. River started moaning louder, throwing their head back to expose their throat to him.

Frankie saw an opening and latched his mouth onto their neck, marking them in return as his free hand held the back of River’s head. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, biting at River’s skin.

River shuddered at the praise, rocking their hips against Frankie’s hand. “‘M close,” they whined, panting down at him. They started to lose their rhythm on Frankie’s cock and squeezed him tightly in their fist. Frankie nodded in understanding and started moving his fingers faster, adding a second one as the slick sounds coming from between River’s legs filled the truck.

“C’mon, baby. You gonna come for me?” he breathed against their neck, leaving soft kisses against their skin. The contrast between what his mouth and what his hand were doing was overwhelming and River wouldn’t change it for the world.

River nodded, their brows moving downward in pleasure before stilling above him as they came. Their hips rocked back and forth over Frankie’s hand as they came down, moaning and biting their lip.

The sight of River coming was enough for Frankie and his cock twitched hard as he erupted all over River’s hand. He grunted and hid his face in their neck as his balls emptied messily. He whined softly, twitching in the aftershocks.

River giggled quietly and held him close after licking their hand clean. “Gonna have to blow you next time,” they hummed thoughtfully.

Frankie groaned as his oversensitive cock twitched between them. “Don’t say shit like that while I’m still vulnerable, you menace.”

River bit his cheek, then kissed it softly. “You love it.”

He did. He really did.

a/n: please enjoy this meme that inspired the scene above

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #oaksfics

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konata-izumi-kinny-writes · 2 years

Text

Sfw Headcanons of Dating Jack Skellington

This man is so sweet fr fr, he needs a hug 🖤

[WARNING: mentions of horror movies]

HAPPY SPOOKY MONTH, YAAAALL!!!!

🖤 boi where do i start lel

🦴 Mans is a big cuddler

🧡 like for real, hes so sweet

🦴 Lots of kisses from this big boi

🖤 Like, for real, hes the most affectionate thing out there

🦴 king of the pumpkin patch, AND romance

🧡 Will scare anyone who makes you sad or angry. And he won't scare you unless you tell him you're okay with it.

🦴 hes a huge flirt. Like, the BIGGEST flirt out there

🖤 make things for him, HE'LL LOVE IT

🦴 hell, he loves you

🧡 Jack makes the best Cider and Hot Cocoa

🦴 His favorite thing to do for a date, is getting caramel corn and going for a walk with you under all of the trees.

🖤 the sun shining through the orange, yellow, and red leaves makes for a beautiful atmosphere

🦴 yall play fetch with Zero too :3

🧡 Wear a skeleton costume :)

🦴 He will either, 1: find it funny, 2: be confused, or 3: be flustered

🖤 I have no idea why, but i headcanon that Jack can play the piano and cello. I have no idea why but it just fits imo

🦴 Sing with him :D

🧡 wait- you expect me to not headcanon a disney character to be musical??... you're insane LMFAO

🦴 Pumpkin bread with chocolate chips is one of Jack's favorite things, if you like baking, make this for him lol

🖤 If you don't live with him and in a seperate house he will walk you home every single time, doesn't matter if you live next door or not.

🦴 HE👏 WANTS👏 YOU👏 SAFE👏 AND👏 IN👏 ONE👏 PIECE👏

🧡 Speaking of which, he's pretty protective of you, but not to the point where its suffocating

🦴 So its basically canon that he knows how to sew right, thats straight up.

🖤 BUT HEAR ME OUT!!!!

🦴 he makes monster plushies with it AND NOBODY CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

🧡 Like c'mon now, how can you own a sewing machine and NOT make plushies?!?! Its UNHEARD of /j

🦴 Have autism? Or anything similar to it?? HE STIMS WITH YOU!!! (Its because he thinks its fun :3)

🦴 Annoy Jack with bone puns, his reactions are priceless 🤣

🖤 His pet names for you are, Dear, Darling, and Pumpkin

🧡 He likes horror movies, if they're too much for you to handle, thats okay. Jack can always settle for less scary movies.

🦴 His favorites are The Descent, the Saw movies, Trick r' Treat (He thinks Sam is adorable), Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark (because of the nostalgia from the books), and the Fear Street movies

🖤 If you can't handle those scary movies he'll watch mellow ones with you. Like Hocus Pocus, Spooky Buddies, Halloween Is Grinch Night, etc.

🦴 He loves animals... spooky ones.

🧡 This boi wants a Bat, Frog, Tarantula, Snake, Black Cat, or maybe another ghost dog :)

🦴 As long as its not venomous

🖤 It'd be nice for Zero to have another playmate :D

🦴 okay so, while this talks about snuggling in bed and body anatomy, this isn't in a nsfw way so bear with me here lol

🧡 While yall are snugglin, you can flick his ribs to make them sound like a xylophone. You can totally play a song 🤣

🦴 Hes totally interested in your muscles, fat, and skin

🖤 like ???? How tf are you so squishy?!

🦴 He's not complainin though, he loves you how you are <3

🧡 He has cute lil monster outfits for you, Jack lets you pick out your clothes but he just has them for you just in case :)

🦴 Okay so... lets get one thing straight (unlike me LMFAO)

🖤 As a monster, Jack doesn't need to sleep, but he does.

🦴 But this means sometimes he doesn't sleep at all and just wanders around the house at 3 A.M.

🧡 and its actually lowkey scary when you run into him at those times

🦴 He just looks way scarier than usual without even trying. And oh my gosh.

🖤 There have been MULTIPLE times where Jack accidentally scared you half to death while you were looking for a snack 🤣

🦴 When all is said and done, Jack Skellington is a really sweet dude who means well. A very loving person :)))

Thanks for Reading,

HAPP SPOOP MONTH

#jack skellington x reader #jack skellington #spooky month #spoopy #spooptober #fictober #konata izumi kin writes

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cloudofbutterflies92 · 2 months

Text

WIP Friday

I was very undecided about wanting to post this WIP (it seems poorly done) but @justasmolbard and @chloekistune convinced me to post so I convinced myself to do it (sorry my shitty English)❤️

"You're okay big boy, do you want to talk about it? Although you should be a lieutenant now" Eden jokingly gave him a little bite on the cheek. The corners of Simon's lips turned up in that smile he rarely showed in that office. It usually happened for him to smile, but it was not something as warm as it was together with his woman. With her he was more sure that he was the real Simon, and not the one who had to hide behind the seriousness of his task.

"I jus' want some bloody peace" he huffed, drawing the air from his lungs, "maybe away from this shite base"

"Maybe when you get home I'll let you find a Manchester tart?" She whispered to him gently and reassuringly "and maybe more"

"Sounds like a good plan" hazel eyes half-opened he rumbled an almost guttural laugh, receiving a chaste kiss on the lips.

"Behave yourself" with a pout the raven-haired woman stood up, being patted gently by him on the leg "Mr. lieutenant"

He clenched his jaw, brushing the little bit of beard he have.It was ironic that a man like him, usually hard-looking and impenetrable had this almost submissive devotion to a woman.

Eden however sensed more, there was more that he had not told her. As always typical from Simon.

Tag: @chloekistune @graveyard-party666 @alypink @kaitaiga @statichvm @onehornedbeast @themotherofhorses @alexxmason @carlosoliveiraa @cassietrn @socially-awkward-skeleton @thewanderer-000 @thedeadthree @pvnkesttt @sinclxirx @simonxriley @marivenah @justasmolbard @strangefable @captastra @aceghosts @kikiharinezumi @katsigian @rendersbygem @alicedarkmair @amalkavian @voidika @theelderhazelnut

#oc:eden“spectra”park #x: fire and gasoline #pairing: ghost & eden #call of duty oc:eden “spectra” park #call of duty oc #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #original character #cod oc #call of duty original character

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bradshawsbaby · 6 months

Note

My Bee! ✨💛🧡♥️ Is your door still open for Trick Or Treat-ers?? 🎃

Of course! Happy Halloween, sweet friend! I hope you don’t mind a little glimpse into the future with an older Bradley and Mrs. Bradshaw! 🥰

“Here you are, Mrs. Bradshaw,” Bradley grinned as he lowered himself beside you on the front steps of your home, handing you a new bag of candy to pour into the large plastic bowl you had resting on your lap.

“Why thank you, Captain Bradshaw,” you teased in return, smiling at your husband as you tore open the bag, stealing a small piece of chocolate for yourself before you replenished the bowl for the trick-or-treaters.

Bradley wasn’t as subtle—he reached over and grabbed a fistful of candy, tearing open a bag of mini M&Ms before you could slap it out of his hands.

“Bradley Bradshaw!” you scolded, trying very hard to mask the look of amusement on your face as you glared at the extremely childish man you had married.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence as he poured the contents of another bag of M&Ms into his mouth like it was nothing.

“These are for the trick-or-treaters, not for you,” you laughed, swatting at his hand as he tried to reach for more. “If you’re hungry, there’s still plenty of granola and fruit inside. Very heart healthy.”

“Ugh, getting old sucks,” Bradley pouted, sighing dramatically as he rested a hand on your knee.

“You’re telling me,” you lamented, running a hand through your hair, which was now streaked liberally with strands of gray.

“You’re not getting old, honey. Just aging like fine wine,” your husband grinned, leaning over to give you a tender kiss.

“Sure, we’ll go with that,” you chuckled, the laugh lines around your mouth and eyes deepening as you smiled.

Bradley opened his mouth to respond, but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of small voices babbling excitedly as they hurried up your walkway.

“Well look what we have here, baby!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, smiling at the sweet faces that were beaming up at the two of you. “A princess, a dinosaur, a skeleton, and a ladybug!”

“Wow!” you cooed, your heart warming at the sight of the precious little ones standing before you. “Very impressive!”

“Trick-or-treat!” they chorused, holding up their little pumpkin buckets, already filled nearly to the brim.

You and Bradley filled their buckets with a few pieces of candy each, laughing in delight as they whooped and cheered excitedly.

“Happy Halloween,” you told them brightly, waving as they turned and hurried back to their parents after thanking you and Bradley sweetly.

Sighing softly, you set the bowl of candy down on the step beside you and turned to look at Bradley. “Don’t you miss it? Having little ones like that?”

Bradley’s eyes softened as he looked at you, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I do,” he nodded, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest. “Our kids were pretty damn adorable when they were that small.”

Halloween had always been a big affair in your household, but it was quieter now that Goose and Lydia were away at college, and James wanted to spend all his time with his high school buddies. You and Bradley were still learning how to adjust to this new phase of your lives.

“It makes me happy, seeing all the trick-or-treaters,” you murmured softly, resting your head on your husband’s shoulder. “It makes me think about all the wonderful times we had when the kids were growing up.”

“It really was wonderful, wasn’t it?” Bradley whispered, rubbing soft circles on your back. “Damn, I miss our babies being babies.”

“Me, too,” you admitted, getting a little teary-eyed as you thought more about it.

The two of you were quiet for a couple minutes before Bradley broke the silence with a low chuckle.

“C’mon now, we don’t want to scare the trick-or-treaters away. A couple of oldies sitting on their front porch, crying into the candy,” he joked gently, lightening the mood.

“Who are you calling old? I thought we were aging like fine wine,” you smirked, poking him in the side.

“You are,” Bradley insisted, grinning as he bumped his nose against yours, his mustache tickling your upper lip. “I’m not so sure about me.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re still as sexy as the day I met you,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Just then, you heard soft giggles and a few cleared throats. Turning your heads, you and your husband found that there was a new group of children standing at the bottom of your steps.

“Um, trick-or-treat?”

#ask box trick-or-treat 🎃#bradley rooster bradshaw #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x wife!reader #bradshaw drabble #miles teller

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anjelicawrites · 1 month

Text

After the fair

Paring: Abraham x reader

Synopsis: during a horse fair you meet an old friend, Abraham gets jealous and needs to be reminded who you love.

Warnings: reader has burn marks, reference to nausea and vomiting, anxiety, fighting, crying, jealousy, Abraham’s possessiveness, reference to prejudice against the Romanichal community, kissing, fingering, p in v sex, kissing, scratching, overstimulation, titty sucking, pregnancy sex.

A/N 1: this is a sequel to this fic, but it could be read as a standalone.

A/N 2: I don’t know anyone from the Romanichal community and used Google for my research for this fic. I tried to be as accurate and respectful as possible. Please let me know if I’ve written something wrong so I can make the needed corrections!

A/N 3: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used. Reader is addressed as "wife".

It’s a beautiful spring day, sunny but not too hot. It explodes over the assorted smells of people, food and horses at the fair. You’re all the happier to be able to inhale lungful of air without feeling sick: you’re roughly into the second trimester of your first pregnancy, the first having been a nightmare of nausea caused by any smell, throwing up and being afraid of losing the child slowly growing into your belly.

You know your body is still recovering from barely managing to keep anything down for months, you’re all belly now, the rest of your skin stretched thin over your skeleton, not that you care, now that you feel better and you can feel movements in your tummy. Abraham is still worried about you and the baby, whenever he’s not with the horses, he’s hovering over you like a hawk, ready to go fetch the healers of the community as soon as he sees signs of discomfort on your part. It’s so endearing to see how uncaring of what the whole camp thinks of him, not when your health and safety are one the line: he’s always showed you his love and care, in the privacy of your shared vardo, and kept a more stern façade for the outside to see: now that you’re expecting your first child and had such a rough start, he doesn’t seem to care about what the other men think of him, only what the women helping you advise him to do to help you with the pregnancy.

Abraham is at the horse fair today with some of the animals he’s worked on during the last year and a half, you as well came to town to do some business with one of the book antiquarians you collaborate with; having been sick for so long, you had to put everything on hold and are itching to go back to trading antiques with all your contacts in the UK. You are tired and your ankles feel swollen, yet you are happy: you feel fulfilled by a very productive work day and you want to have a small wander around with your boots in the mud and under the sun, before telling Abraham you’re going back to the vardo to lie down for a bit, before dinner.

You turn around when you hear your name being called and spot an old friend from your Oxford days.

“What are you doing here? How are you?”

You are surprised and happy to see him after such a long time!

“I’m just enjoying a nice, sunny day.” He smiles. “What brings you here? It’s so far away from Badger’s Crossing!”

You try not to flinch at the name and almost manage: the poor man doesn’t know how much that spot still hurts you and you don’t want to ruin your day.

“I’m here with my husband, he works with horses.” You say with a smile. “Husband? Now, when did that happen?” “As it usually goes.” You laugh. “A little over a year ago.” “Congratulations for that and for the little one on the road!”

He hugs you again and you tighten your arms around his big frame with all your strength: he’s always been a good friend, a companion during the long hours of study in the library, a gentle soul trapped in the body of a giant.

“What about you? Are you still trying to climb the academic ladder?”

Minutes fly as he tells you all about his goals and achievements as you two walk around the fair, he’s always been flamboyant and enthusiastic about his field of choice, and he hasn’t changed one bit. He regards you with tales of Oxford life, making you laugh with his stories about your former professors there as he helps you navigate the uneven terrain of the fair, ending up with an arm as thick as a tree trunk linked with yours.

“So, where is your husband? I need to meet the man who managed to snag you away from your books and the rest of us, he has to be a remarkable person!”

“He is! There’s so many people I can’t see him.” You go on your tiptoes and shield your eyes from the sun. “There he is!”

Abraham seems to sense your presence and stares in your direction without you calling him, his expression darkens when he sees you with your arm linked to your friend.

“Hello husband.” You go to him and put your hand on his. “I met an old friend today!”

Abraham just stares at your friend, whose expression has changed as soon as he’s seen him: too late you realize your mistake.

Abraham puts his arm on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him as your friend tries to make some half heartedly small talk: you’re so used to be around your community, you’ve forgotten how lowly gadji think of them, how the distrust easily flows towards the Romanichal people who have welcomed you with an open heart.

You are not sad when your friend bids a haste goodbye and leaves you with your husband.

“Who was that?”

You can feel how tense Abraham is and you place your hand on his sturdy chest.

“An old friend from university, no one of importance.” You smile in his direction. “Are you going to stay here long? I’m going home for the day.”

Abraham stares at you, assessing your condition with a worry and care you’ve gotten used to experience.

“It’s not going to take me too long. You go along, take one of Peter’s children to accompany you.” “There’s no need for that. I will collect the book when we leave the area and it’s not that much of a walk.” “it is not negotiable.”

Abraham is always on edge when Cyril is not shadowing your every move, but you couldn't bring both the goods to the antiquarian and the dog and you had to leave him guarding the vardo. You came to the city with some of the women, he’s not going to let you go back on your own: he wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t pregnant, to begin with, now that his first born is in your belly? He’s not taking any chances.

In the end the daughters of Esme Jones come back with you, their chatting easing a bit of your tiredness and annoyance towards Abraham’s over protectiveness. You love your husband, you don’t know what you would have done without him after Badger’s Crossing, but he needs to remember you can take care of yourself, even in your state. But the thought doesn't even cross his thick skull, he simply treats you as if you're made of glass, your opinion not even considered, and that irks you to no end.

You have to lie down as soon as you arrive at the vardo to put your legs up, hoping to help with your swollen ankles. You’ve turned the small transistor radio on, waiting for the radio drama to start, as you tap gently on your distended belly: the midwife has suggested you might be carrying twins, after you told her how the kicks seemed to be everywhere in your belly, at the same time.

Truth to be told, your tummy is pretty big for someone around their fifth month and she could detect no strangeness in the way your child is growing and moving inside of you, perhaps twins it is? The thought scares you a little, not because you don't know how to act around children, in your past life as a librarian you used to organize activities with them, and were pretty good at it; those were not your children, though, you didn't have to shoulder the responsibility of their well being for their whole life. If you're truly carrying twins, how are you going to manage? The idea fills you with the need of your mother, either adoptive or biological, to take your hand and tell you everything is going to be alright.

Two sets of kicks drag you back from your anxiety, or perhaps is kicking and punching against your tummy? You drum your fingers again but the child (children?) don't take your bait.

“You really want to be a mystery up to the end, don't you?” You ask your tummy without receiving an answer.

When Abraham comes back you’re midway eating toast with butter and sardines. You were supposed to wait for him and share the kidney pie you’ve backed, maybe while sitting outside to enjoy the late spring afternoon, but you had this violent craving for food that you didn't want to fight, not after three whole months of nausea and vomiting.

You’ve noticed he's washed himself before coming back, his ridiculous mane of hair wet and styled the way he likes, yet he looks aggravated: had something happen back at the fair?

“Abraham?”

You don't want to sound too apprehensive, but you can feel the tense aura around him, who doesn't respond, preferring to take a swing from the water bottle on the table.

“What happened, my love?” You ask.

Abraham's eyes are darker in the dying sun streaming from the window, dark blue like the stormy sea, his mouth set in a thin, unhappy line.

“You know he wants to shag you, don't you?” He asks, the belligerent tone barely controlled. “Who?” You're genuinely confused, feeling like he's thrown you in an ongoing conversation you've missed the start of. “Your friend.” He spats. “The one from before. He knows you're spoken for, that you're carrying another man’s child inside of you, and he still wants to shag you!”

Slower than you want to, you manage to stand up to look into Abraham's eyes.

“Abe, he's always been like that: expansive with his affection. Not once has he ever wanted to sleep with me.”

Abraham's brow seems to knit even tighter as he regards you.

“You don't see it, but I could!”

The shadows on his face are darker, turning his beautiful face in a stern mask of disappointment; you stand your ground, feet planted on the floor of the vardo, eyes locked with his.

“Let's say that you're right, that he wants me.” You grab his hands and put them on your tummy. “Tell me Abraham, whose child am I carrying? Whose seed has taken root inside of me?”

His hands clench at your words, his nose flares.

“I’ve asked you a question, husband: who is the one who had me, who bred me? Was it him? Hmm? Who was it?”

Your nails are leaving half moons on pain in his wrist that he can't feel, his fingers spasm over your clothed tummy with the need to rip your clothes open to stare at your naked body: you’ve never been more beautiful and enchanting than now that you're full of his child, his cock is always at half mast with the need to be buried inside you warmth, now so tight and always welcoming. You don't realize how crazy you drive him, how much he wishes to stay rooted inside of you for the rest of his life, to suck on your breasts until you're keening and begging him to stop, but he will not: he needs to die with your taste in his mouth.

Your eyes stay locked for what seems hours but it is just seconds, before Abraham's hands evade your hold to grab your face, his long fingers in your hair to keep you where he wants you to be.

“It was me.” He growls, before smashing his lips against yours.

It’s not a gentle kiss, nor it is refined; his mouth slants over yours and his tongue invades your mouth, proprietary and hungry, while he backs you towards the bed and you kiss him back ferociously, your fingers already under his shirt, your nails raking down his long back.

He undresses you fast, almost ripping your clothes off your body and keeps his burning gaze on your skin while he undresses himself: you can see the hunger there, barely controlled after all the months you were too sick to sleep with him, but you still feel self conscious of the way your body is changing and of the way your scars are uglier now that your skin is stretched thin over your bones and your belly is already so big. You know he doesn’t see any of your imperfections, that he loves you, yet you wish to be perfect for him, unblemished for his eyes to see.

You slide up the bed to make space for his long body and spread your legs to accommodate his form as he hovers over you, his weight carried by his strong arms. He knows what you’re thinking, he can see it in the darkened hue of your eyes and in the way your fingers itch to cover your body with the bed sheets: he’s not going to have any of that. You are his, belong by his side, not under the heavy cloak of shame: to him you are as pretty as you were before the fire and the way your body is changing adds more fuel to the fire of his desire.

His lips are soft all over your skin, starting from your brow he kisses a slow path down your body, over your closed eyelids and your nose, his teeth nip your lips playfully and his mouth sucks at your neck, until you’re marked for the whole world to see. Gentle his tongue licks your burns and ravenously he sucks on your breasts, he murmurs sweet nothings at your belly and he smiles when he hears the child kick in response; his long fingers explore you slowly, you’re embarrassed by the squelching sound you hear and he’s having none of that.

“So perfect.” He murmurs, the blue of his eyes almost hypnotic. “So much tighter for me, and always wet.” “Aaaabe…” It comes out strangled as your back arches as much as your tummy lets you. “You’re always hungry for me? Are you not?” “Abraham, please!” You whine when his calloused thumb grazes your clit. “Answer me. Show me how obedient you can be.” He growls hotly. “Yes Abraham! For you! Only for you, husband!” You whine as your cunt tries to suck his fingers deeper. “What a good wife you are.” He purrs. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

The pads of his fingers start massaging that rougher patch inside of you faster as the thumb of his other hand takes care of your swollen clit and you cant your hips following his lead, moaning as the pleasure unfolds inside of you and spreads through your nerves, warm and familiar makes you whine and shake under his ministration.

“Abe! Abe!” You plead, needing his permission. “Close, Abe!” “Yes, now!”

His fingers move impossibly fast and your body vibrates with pleasure, trashes and arches drenched in sweat under his, your mind almost snapping when his lips curl around one nipple and suck hungrily as you come with a desperate moan.

“Oh God.” You pant, seeking his warmth. “You did good, sweet wife, so good.”

You feel pleasure lick at your nerves again when he uses his hand, drenched with the proof of your pleasure, to slick his erect cock with slow, deliberate strokes, his eyes boring into yours, daring you to look away.

“I love you.” You sob. “I love you so much!”

You don’t know where the tears come from, but they fall freely from your eyes and Abraham is fast in slotting himself behind you to hug you as tight as he can. With your big belly in the way, hugging from the front while laying down is difficult, you have to squirm a bit to hide your face against Abraham’s neck to cry, desperately, his masculine scent calming you and driving you into overdrive at the same time, heightening all your feelings for him, now exploding in your chest like fireworks. Your emotions are so much stronger now that you’re pregnant, they escape your control, leaving you defenseless against your own self, and lost without your husband.

Abraham’s callous fingers dry the tears from your cheeks carefully, as if you’re made of glass and he’s afraid of breaking you with his oaf’s strength.

“Better?” He murmurs in your ear. “Yes. I don’t know what happened.”

You snuggle closer to his warmth, making sure his hand is laying flat on your belly and your leg is over his, wanting his cock to find home between your lower lips.

“You don’t have to.” He says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I know. I want you, please.”

The heath in your voice travels like an arrow to his cock, which swells once again, aided by the warmth of your cunt and the knowledge that you want him, and him only. He rolls his hips against yours, letting your smell, the taste of your skin pervade his senses. His hand takes hold of your tight to secure you against his body as you moan, reveling in the way his body responds to yours, how your desire entices him, how this magic can only work between you two, and no one else.

Slowly, Abraham enters you. Ever since you stopped feeling so sickly, he tried to be as gentle as possible with you, choosing to forego his more rough ways to express the passion that consumes him, preferring to be gentler, to feel your body react to his, to just experience your pleasure and though that, find his own.

Both of you groan when he bottoms out and your walls hug his cock impossibly tight, almost to the point of pain when he starts to rock against you, his erection sucked in when he leaves your warmth, the velvet of your walls the sweetest torture, your moans spurring him on, your taste intoxicating on his tongue, as it is the softness of your breast in his hands.

His hips rock gently against you, a soft moan escapes your lips with every push in as one of your hands grab blindly behind you, scratching his naked skin, trying to pull him as close to yourself as possible.

“I’m here.” He growls. “Feel me.”

Your body shakes in his hold, your nails scratch his skin, pain and pleasure mix in your brain, leaving you a begging, screeching mess in his hold as his calloused hands grab and touch your breasts, your nipples so sensitive already that you keen, almost in pain.

His touch is delicate, yet proprietary on every inch of your body; the way his free hand slides on your sweaty skin to grab at it, the hold on your hip to keep you flush against his bigger body, his teeth on your neck, everything marks you as his in ways the ring on your finger doesn’t. Nothing compares to feeling him explore you and own you, to have his cock rearrange your insides with long strokes that make you whimper, to feel his index finger slowly play with your clit, keeping you on the edge of pleasure, not letting you fall, not yet, not before he’s fucked the fist of your cunt some more, heard your desperate sounds of pleasure, squeezed your breasts, now so big they fill his hands, marked you again and again.

“Abe! Abe!” You whine, you hips bucking against his hold “Shh, wait! Not yet!” he growls desperately.

It’s so hard to control his own orgasm when your cunt sucks him in and he can only grind against you as you kiss him, ferocious and desperate, tongue and lips sloppy against his: how he wishes to keep the two of you on the edge forever, to stay rooted in your cunt until the end of times, to bully that rough patch inside of you until your voice gives, to never have to leave you again!

You come with a scream, white sparks explode behind your eyes as your cunt clenches so tight Abraham follows you immediately, his seed marking you yet again. His vision blackens for an instant, his orgasm infinite inside the sanctuary of your body, until all his muscles relax and he slumps against you, who lay breathless on the bed, overused cunt stained by his leaking seed, just basking in the feeling of his tired lips all over your sweaty skin.

For long seconds you two exist in this blissful silence, broken only by your ragged breaths, you two might as well be the last people on earth, the thick paneling of the vardo providing with all the soundproofing to believe the camp outside doesn’t exist.

“Are you still angry?”

You ask Abraham, after turning on your other side to look at his face. He’s more relaxed now, his hair a mess, his cheeks pink with exertion.

“I’m never angry with you. Your friend? He should know not to touch what isn’t his.”

There’s still an edge in his voice, that known possessiveness now enhanced by your state that’s the core of your husband. He means well and fears the gadji and their violence, is petrified by the idea of losing you, or the child: he’d die without either of you.

“I’m not sure I can call him that anymore, not after the way he looked at you. Shush! I don’t care that you’re used to it.”

There’s something in your husband’s eyes, an emotion you can’t decipher, too fast it disappears after he’s closed his eyes.

“You are truly a gift from God.” He says, and it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever told you. “I’m being just, that’s it.” You answer.

You cup his cheek and he rubs your palm like a cat.

“I’m so happy I’m carrying your child, Abraham.” “A pretty baby just like the mum.” “And the dad. Don’t sell yourself short.” “I don’t have much good to give.” He says with clouded eyes. “Don’t! If our child has half the courage and strength you possess, I could be happy. Don’t try to win this argument!”

Later that night, after you two had indeed eaten the pie outside, while chatting with your extended family, Abraham loses himself staring at you, asleep all curled up in one of his old shirts. The cotton isn’t loose on your body as it used to be, not with your protruding belly and fuller breasts to fill it, not that it matters: you always take his breath away.

Slowly, making sure he’s not waking you up, Abraham moves the hair hiding the burn marks on your head and kisses the scarred skin with reverence: if the child is going to be half of the good person and the fighter you are, he can call himself a happy man. You are too good for him, he can only try to live up to you and be a decent father, show the child the right way in this life, but with you by their side, he knows the child’s future is bright.

#abraham #abraham x reader #abraham x y/n

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