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satorisoup · 1 month

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PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER .ᐟ

ft. hq boys and their acts of intimacy <3

cw : fluff + sfw. timeskip! setting. mentions of bathing together.

ᰔ BOKUTO + BUBBLE BATHS

even though he may be a little too burly to fit comfortably with you in the tub, and it takes a couple minutes to get situated without getting squashed, bokuto loves to bathe with you. he enjoys running the warm water, not too hot, not too cold, but just right. he’ll mix in a nice scented soap that makes bubbles rise high in the bathtub, lavender and citrus you can smell in the mist of your bathroom. he’ll hold your hands under the water, and maybe splash you a couple times, but he shows he cares with the delicate touches he leaves on your skin as he washes away the worries of the world with a sponge of suds. he’ll lather your hair in your favorite shampoo, careful to not snag any knots, and rinse the strands with such gentleness you can barely even feel it. and when you’re all done, he’ll wrap you in a warm towel, snug and clean while he kisses your damp cheeks with a huge smile.

ᰔ KITA + FLOWERS

kita vowed that when he started dating you, he would never allow a week to go by without your vase being filled with a new bouquet. he’ll come home to you, new flowers wrapped in the palm of his hands as he kisses you hello. he loves the the way you get excited, eyes twinkling at the delicate petals and floral scent as you thank him over and over. he’ll watch you with a fond smile as you carefully take them in your grasp, setting them into a pretty vase that makes your home light up with color. he won’t let you see the flowers die, always keeping one for himself so he knows when it’s time to replace them. he’ll always tell you the meaning of the bouquet he got, or leave a pretty note tied around the stems. he buys a different type of flower every time, because he knows you’ll enjoy the variety. he adores you just as much as you adore the beautiful flowers.

ᰔ ATSUMU + MASSAGING YOU

atsumu has talented hands from years of playing volleyball, and he puts them to good use when you complain that you’re sore. he’ll knead at the expanse of your skin, smiling to himself as you sigh in content. he’ll rub away the tiredness of your muscles, gentle but calculated touches everywhere you could need. he likes to hold your hands in his, massaging from your fingers all the way up to your arms, and back down to your hands again. he’ll lay your sock-clad feet in his lap, squeezing and rubbing the ache away with his fingers. he’ll sit you on his lap, massaging the discomfort of your cramping shoulders until your melting into his touch. he won’t be rough, making sure his touch is tender and soft while he works the knots out. he kindly kisses your skin when he’s done, and feels that it’s a mission accomplished when you tell him you feel much better.

ᰔ OSAMU + FEEDING YOU

as long as osamu is around, you will always have a full plate. he’s always in the kitchen, a small and sacred book of his ma’s recipes standing proud on an easel. you don’t remember the last time you’ve heard your stomach grumble, because he’s already sliding a bowl your way. he loves how domestic it feels, to use the recipes he once enjoyed as a kid and serve them to you on a silver platter. he likes that you’re his personal taste tester, giving him a thumbs up with full cheeks as you chew. when your sick, he’ll insist on feeding you, hot spoon of soup between his fingers, his hand cusped at the bottom to catch any that falls. he’ll wake you up in the early mornings to tell you the food is ready, and sometimes surprise you with breakfast in bed. he’ll kiss your chubbed cheeks as you munch on one of his special onigiris, and ask you if you want another until your belly is full.

ᰔ AKAASHI + READING TO YOU

akaashi enjoys reading to you every chance he gets. a book held in the palms of his hands, licking his thumb every time he turns the page. he’ll have you curled up to his side, or sat between his legs, as he reads aloud the words imprinted on the page. he’ll add emotion to his voice at the important parts, and he’ll glance at your face to see your reaction. his voice is soft and soothing as he reads, occasionally moving his hand towards your hair to gently caress the top of your head. when it’s nighttime, he reads to you almost as if it’s a bedtime story, bedside lamp warming the room with it’s light as he flips through the pages. chapter after chapter he brings you closer to sleep, pages like a lullaby of prompts and fiction. he’ll pause when he notices your reactions have gone silent, breathing evened out as you lulled into a quiet slumber. he’ll smile as he puts a bookmark between the spine, already anticipating tomorrow when he can continue to read you the next chapter.

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sicbaby · 6 months

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sleeping beauty

stepdad!leon kennedy x f!reader

cw: 18+ smut, stepcest, somnophilia, non consensual (at first)

it was a weekend you were looking forward to. a nice little winter vacation with your mom and some of her friends. it would be nice to get out of the house for a while anyway, especially since your seasonal depression kicked in.

however, your plans quickly changed when you fell ill. god damnit, stupid fucking weather. had to ruin your plans. now you were bed ridden, absolutely no energy so you refused to do anything. your loving mother didn’t bat an eye, wishing you well and heading off with her friends for the weekend. thanks, mom.

luckily, your stepdad was free. leon.

leon was a good dad, sweet and caring… more than your mom ever was. you liked him a lot. your mom put leon in charge of taking care of you for the weekend, and he was more than happy to oblige. he barely ever had time off work, and he was looking forward to spending time with you.

it was friday night and leon sat on the couch watching tv, feeling frustrated. the reason why? you.

yes, you. the poor little thing that had slept the day away. he had planned out the whole evening for the two of you. he was going to make soup, cuddle you and watch your favorite movies and kiss and love on you. like a good father should when his daughter gets sick. but you never even got out of bed. he felt lonely, frustrated, and needy. he missed his pretty little girl.

it was getting late. he shut down the house and put away the full pot of soup he had made for you. just seeing it sitting there made his frustration grow even stronger.

he turned off all the lights, locking the front door and heading upstairs. he’s mad at you.

he knows he shouldn’t feel that way, especially when you’re sick. but he can’t help it. he passes your door, not giving it a second look as he heads to his room.

he strips to his boxers, ready to get in bed as he fights an internal struggle within himself.

god, it’s not your fault, you poor thing. but he has needs too, doesn’t matter if you’re sick. with a frustrated sigh, he heads to down the hall to check on you.

he knocks on your door softly, and when there isn’t a response he opens it. the air is damp, filled with the peppermint scent of your diffuser on full blast. the room is dark, and he can hardly see until he comes closer. you’re sleeping. still.

his gaze wanders over your sleeping form. you were on your belly with your left leg hiked up. you were wearing the sheerest pink nightgown, and the silk practically melted into your body, leaving little to the imagination. it also didn’t help that your position caused the gown to ride up, the bottom of your cheeks exposed to him. nothing underneath that slutty little gown, of course. despite his irritation, he couldn't deny the allure of your vulnerability. a mischievous grin tugs at the corner of his lips as a wicked idea forms in his mind.

leon slowly approaches the side of the bed, his steps almost silent against the carpeted floor. he felt as if you owed him for the lonely, isolated day he had.

swiftly, he reaches out and gently brushes his hand against your cheek, feeling the warmth of your feverish skin beneath his fingertips. "you know, i was hoping we could have some quality time together," he murmured, his tone mocking. "but it seems like you're too busy being a useless little burden, sleeping the day away."

his frustration brewed beneath the surface, and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. leon slowly reaches down, his fingers grazing over your thigh. the touch was light, teasing, not wanting to wake you up just yet.

"since you're so useless, maybe i should find another way to entertain myself," he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "hmmm,” he hums, “maybe i'll have to wake you up properly, little sleeping beauty."

leon's hand continued caressing your thigh, inching higher and higher. your mouth was wide open, snoring softly. he chuckled at that. even sick and asleep, you were such a prize. and he was going to claim you.

trailing his hand along the back of your left thigh, he nudges it to the side slightly, guiding your legs to open more for him. he trails up and up, until his index finger flicks over the soft flesh of your pussy. he smirks when you don’t move, and proceeds to glide his finger up and down your folds until it settles on your clit. he applies just enough pressure to elicit a small noise from your parted lips. it’s barely noticeable, though, and he keeps playing and teasing with your pussy until that warm wetness is coating his finger.

the act of making you wet even while you slept was an intoxicating feeling for leon. the sudden urge to possess you and claim you as his own rushes over him.

he crawls over you, settling into bed next to you. he places a light hand on your back, feeling the silk of your nightgown. his touch trailed lower and his fingers knead the soft flesh of your ass, reveling in its plumpness. he couldn't help but let out a low, husky groan as his desire for you intensified.

leon's desire grew even stronger as he shifted closer to you. being careful not to disturb you, he delicately repositioned you onto your side, hand still firmly gripping your ass. once he’s satisfied with your position, he presses his hand to the front of your hips, pressing your ass against him. his cock hardens at the feeling of your warm and soft ass against him. he couldn't help but grind his hips against yours, feeling his cock grow with every slow rut. a low growl of satisfaction escaped his lips as he continued, moving his head up to press his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

he looks back down to your ass, slowly and carefully lifting your nightgown up your back, exposing your bare skin to the fabric of his boxers as he continues to slowly hump you. in a low, whispered voice, he couldn't resist indulging in dirty talk again, knowing you wouldn't hear him. you were so deep in your slumber.

"hi, princess.” he taunts, right in your ear this time. “you gonna let daddy fuck your tight little pussy? hm? yeah, you are. daddy’s gonna do whatever he wants with you tonight, baby," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. “daddy deserves that, right?” he asks, reaching up to grab your chin, forcing you to nod your head in your sleep. he chuckles deeply at this. “yeah, that’s right. good girl, baby.”

as he continues grinding against you, his hand lowers from your chin to your breasts, lightly grazing his fingers over your nipples, smirking to himself when he feels them harden almost immediately. you don’t move, don’t make any noise, and he wonders how much farther he can go. he trails his left hand down your tummy to your pussy, his hand once again finding your clit. at this point, you’re soaked. “dirty fucking girl..” he chuckles deeply.

he removes his hand, wiping your slick off on his boxers as he pulls them down his legs. he tosses them off the bed, moving back to you to lift up your leg. he scoots up, placing his now hard cock up against your wet cunt. he brings your leg back down and groans at the feeling of your lips and thighs surrounding his cock. he begins humping you again, your pussy continuously wetting his dick and making the most obscene noises in the quiet room.

it wasn’t until now you stir slightly, in a weird dream like state. you feel heat on your neck, a warmth against your body and wetness pooling between your legs. and yet, your mind can’t comprehend it, choosing to stay asleep.

leon continues humping his cock against your pussy, grunting softly in your ear. soon, he’s losing all control. he quickly lifts your leg, taking his dick into his hand as he slaps your cunt a few times with it, teasing himself yet again. he rubs it back and forth, pushing his head against your entrance, gauging your reaction. you still don’t move, and he scoffs a little. he finally presses the tip of his cock into your waiting hole, slowly yet surely filling you up. he barely gets all the way inside when you finally wake up, in a daze.

“hmm- huh, hnnng? leon?” you whine, immediately trying to get up when you feel a heavy, almost painful weight inside of you. you’re sick, weak and confused, your whines almost sound like you’re about to cry. and you just might, until leon pushes you gently back onto your side. “shhh, shhh, princess. it’s okay, daddy’s here. just needed to fill you up, make you feel better. daddy just wanted to feel you. that’s okay, right baby?” he shushes you, keeping his cock buried deep inside you.

you lay back against the pillows, your face contorted in confusion and worry. you nod. “o-oh, y-yeah… okay, daddy…” you immediately comply. you trust your dad. whatever he’s doing.

your voice is weak, eyes burning and you’re just so fucking tired. your state turns leon on even more. you don’t even comprehend what’s going on until you blink a few more times.

and then you realize it. your stepdads cock is inside of you.

“d-dad?” you say weakly, unable to move. your eyes shift around the room, scared to move, scared to turn around to face him.

“yeah?” he groans. “so naughty. leaving your daddy all alone all day.” he mumbles. “you’re gonna make it up to me, kay princess?” his voice is condescending, a bit mean, and it makes your pussy clench around him. yet your face tells a different story. you’re on the verge of tears. why is this happening? he laughs breathily into the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. you want this just as much as him. even if you don’t realize it yet.

your mouth is slightly open, unable to breathe through your nose due to your sickness. you feel dizzy, your body hot and sweaty and leon begins to thrust, pounding into you relentlessly from behind. your body is completely limp in his hold, his left hand digging into your thigh harshly as he keeps your leg up in the air.

you cry out, your body feeling so fragile and sore. he’s just making it worse. this isn’t right. but why are you so wet? your panic increases by the second.

“d-dad! stop! this is so bad,” you sob. “t-this is sooo wrong!”

his thrusts are forceful, taking exactly what he wants from you with no mercy. he can sense your energy waning, your body growing weaker as you try to fight back. he drops your leg, reaching around to rub circles into your swollen clit.

“oh, it feels wrong, does it?” he growls. “but i know you want this, baby girl. fight all you want. pussy’s fuckin’ crying for me.” he feels your body trembling, little whines and cries falling from your pretty mouth.

you feel so overwhelmed, thrashing in his hold, tears falling from your eyes. you don’t even know what you want, a pure mess, brain mushy and can’t think straight. your movements are futile against him. “s-stop! stop! hurts, daddy! please…” he’s huge, practically splitting you in two on his dick.

“no, no, baby. you be good for daddy. you don’t wanna make daddy angry, hmm? bad girls don’t get to cum, you know.” his voice is surprisingly soft, yet so fucking condescending it makes a sob erupt from you. he pulls all the way back out, before slamming his entire length back into your pussy.

“d-daddy,” you cry. “please!” you’re shaking so much, poor baby. your pussy keeps clenching, sucking in his cock before trying to spit him out.

“awww.” he coos. “does daddy’s cock feel too big for your tiny little pussy, baby girl?” he slows his thrusts, giving you some time to adjust. you can feel your heartbeat racing in every part of your body, especially in your cunt. you’re thankful he slows down. you can really feel him this way, feel how every ridge drags deliciously against your walls. it feels too good now. you want to cum. you need to cum.

however, leon doesn’t like taking it slow. “don’t worry, honey. i know you can take it.” he resumes a faster pace, your entire body bouncing from the force. your sobs of pain and discomfort quickly turn into whiny moans of pleasure, no matter how much you try to fight it.

he grabs your cheeks roughly, squeezing them, making your lips pout as he turns your head towards him slightly. he kisses at your tears, tasting the saltiness on your face.

“you’re doing so well, my precious little toy. you’re such a good girl for taking all of daddy’s cock.” he praises, causing you to subconsciously relax a little, letting him sink deeper into your cunt.

“thaaaats it, princess,” he continues, bottoming out and stilling for a moment again. he kisses your neck hungrily, breathing in your scent once again. “you ready to cum for daddy, my little bunny?” he teases, his voice dripping with control. you whine in response, that dumb little brain of yours not able to form words. “beg for it, baby. show me just how badly you need it.” he ruts up harshly into you one time, urging you to speak. it causes you to gasp out a broken moan.

“p-please… please.. need ‘t cum…” it’s a weak response, but you truly aren’t able to conjure up anything better. your hips have a mind of its own, grinding back on leon’s cock desperately searching for release.

leon would want to make you beg for it until you were screaming, but he had to have some type of consideration for his sick baby, right?

he doesn’t respond to your begging, only continuing to pound into you. it feels so good you feel like you’re about to pass out, head empty and dizzy.

he reaches around once more, slapping your bouncing tits a few times, making you gasp. you throw your hands up, trying to stop him but he easily swats your hands away and continues. his fingertips drop down harshly right on your hard, sensitive nipples. “nuh uh, baby. what did i say, huh?” he threatens in a high pitched, taunting baby-like voice.

“‘m sorr- sorry, daddy!” you cry out, hiccuping, your voice hoarse.

“mm, it’s okay, my sweet girl. ‘s brave, endured so much for daddy. go ahead and cum, baby. cum all over daddy’s cock.” he says through gritted teeth. he stops his assault on your tits, bringing his hand down to rub at your puffy clit.

your hand wraps around his wrist, pushing it down harder against the swollen nub. he smirks at this. your lip is drawn between your teeth, body going stiff as you near your release.

“cmon, baby. be a good girl for me. wanna feel that tight pussy cum around my cock. you want it, don’t you?” he encourages, his balls drawing up, so so so close to cumming inside of you.

“mhm, mhm, mhm!” you moan, nodding your head once you feel your orgasm approaching. your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling back into your head, body convulsing as you cum hard. your head is thrown back, resting on leon’s shoulder. he places kisses on your temple, holding you tight through your release.

he starts rutting into you like a rabbit as he cums, shooting his load deep into your womb, offering a warm satisfaction in your lower belly. his thrusts turn into slow, sharp ruts, making sure your cunt takes everything he has to give.

“fuck, baby.” he grunts, his body convulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. he stays inside of you for a moment. both of you are breathing hard and you sigh tiredly. he moves the hair from out of your face, kissing you sweetly on the cheek.

your cheeks are red and puffy, stained with tears. you feel so good, you can’t even be upset at what just happened. in fact, you want it to happen again.

exhaustion washes over you. your thoughts, your morality… it can wait for the morning.

“go back to sleep, sweet girl. daddy will take care of you. love you so much, princess.” he kisses your forehead, nosing your hairline, inhaling your sweet scent. he just can’t get enough. such a perfect little girl, and now he’s claimed you. his perfect little girl, all for him.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #leon kennedy #cnc k!nk #cnc somno #stepcest

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the-californicationist · 6 months

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he changes your mind

John Price has been trying his best to convince you to let him give you a baby. After learning about his willingness to make sacrifices for you and your family, you decide to grant his wish.

MDNI/18+

TW: breeding, pregnancy, explicit sex

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51167794

Be sure to stop by my archive for more COD fics and to view my completed Kinktober collection, "Gauntlet".

John Price was smiling again. His cheeks were crushed up underneath his pale blue eyes, full of wonder and searing joy. The creases at the edges of his lashes cut and folded like the beginnings of an origami crane along his temple, and even though they did the same folds every single time, your heart skipped a beat when you saw them. The beard that lay flat and smooth around his mouth stretched with his smile, broad and keen. Sincere. Innocent and pure. And his laugh sent a knife right through your belly, melting down inside of you like coffee too hot, letting you feel your shapes and holes and secrets all the way down until you couldn’t breathe until he laughed again. Desperate for it. You wanted to rip it from him and keep it inside of you instead so you could tap into that bliss like an addict. You wanted a button to push to force it out of him so you could hear the sound in your darkest days, using him to turn on the light.

To make matters worse, he was holding a baby.

He was making you want one. In fact, he was making you want him to put one inside of you. His baby. One of your very own. One with blue eyes that crinkled at the edges like shining cellophane.

You resisted the pull like a yearling in a harness. You wanted to buck against it and kick it in the teeth. You didn’t want a child. John was always gone - mission after mission - and you weren’t willing to raise a whole person by yourself. You could do it, but you wouldn’t. That wasn’t fair. A child needs their guardian, and when your guardian was the guardian of the world…how could you come first?

So, you boxed it up and put it away in you with the rest of your ghosts. You haunted yourself with it sometimes. When you scrolled through your online purchases of milk and bread, sometimes it would suggest baby formula to add to your cart, as if, subtly suggesting like a mother-in-law, you were missing something important. But, you kept busy. You worked hard, you traveled, you spent time with friends. You loved John dearly, and you craved him more and more every day. You were happy, as happy as anyone should have the right to be. Why should you be entitled to open a box you had no business opening?

But, there it was, down from the attic of your mind again and cracked open in the foyer of your frontal cortex, waiting for you to pluck from it a warm, writhing little bundle that needed you to hold it and kiss it and tell it how to drive a manual transmission. A Janice or an Eric or a Persephone - someone new for the world to put through its horrors. Someone to catch a cold, to have their heart broken, to lose their job. Someone new to put you and John in matching coffins and lower you down into matching holes where you’d be covered and buried in the same place from whence they’d come. Entropy.

You watched as John crooked his elbow just so, supportive and careful, his massive form suddenly as agile as an arching ballerina, holding the bottle and the towel and the someone new as gently as a leaf holds the dew in the mornings in the spring.

You were wet. Your heart and your womb were fully committed to the bit. Some ancient bacteria that divided for the first time back when you were just primordial soup had optimized you for just this moment. It was lying in wait for John Price to crane his neck down to leave little chirping kisses on the softest pink cheek and then to smile when it garnered its reaction. That instinctual drive revved inside of you when he wiped away a stray drop of milk from a grinning toothless mouth. A mouth that would learn how to give kisses right back one day and beg you for them.

The way your hands clenched around your arms was going to leave a bruise.

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

“Such a cute lad, aye?” John commented, driving you down the dark road to your home.

“Gaz sure has his hands full,” you nodded.

“He’ll make it work. It always works itself out, right?” He was suggestive, and you weren’t about to have that.

“If it did, we wouldn’t need the orphanages.”

He was silent. The battle you had just won meant little to the war that raged on in the silence between you.

“I asked Laswell for the hiatus.”

“What?”

“You said that you needed me here. No more away missions. No more black sites. And you said we’d discuss it.”

“I said we might discuss - ”

“No, you said you needed those to happen, and I made them happen. She wrote up the paperwork. When I sign it, I’m here, for good. I’m a full on intel analyst. And it’s a pay raise,” he raised his volume, and his knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay? What does that mean?”

“It means okay. We can try, okay?”

“Don’t play with me, pumpkin. I can’t - ”

You put your hand on his thigh and squeezed it, giving him a soft smile.

“I said okay.”

He drove faster. He barely stopped at stop signs. He parked in the gravel instead of pulling under the carport. He opened your door and nearly pulled you out.

With his hand at the small of your back, he walked you to the front door, keys jangling loudly in his hand, the tip of the key scraping at the edges of the lock like a dog at the door, clamoring to get in. The door cracked. You were inside before you knew it. The keys fell to the floor and the door slammed shut behind you. John scooped you up and kicked in the panel to your bedroom. He fell on top of you, kissing you roughly, like he had mere minutes to spare. Your blood was rushing, pounding in your ears, and you could feel how heavy his breaths were as his chest pushed and pulled inside of himself.

“John. Jo- Hey, John. Wait - ”

John stopped, his hands stuffed under your dress, fingers looped in your panties, frozen in place like you had paused time itself. He didn’t look up at you. His head stayed down, and he waited for you to do something about it.

You grabbed his cheeks and forced him to meet your eyes,

“What’s wrong?” You asked in a whisper.

“Please, sweetheart,” John’s eyes held within them a fragile prayer, “Let me give you a baby. I want to see you hold her inside, right here,” he kissed your belly as he raised up your dress, “I want to see you in her face when she smiles and laughs.”

You smiled at him, petting his hair, enjoying his kisses,

“How do you know it’ll be a girl?”

He scoffed, kissing you further down, peeling the panties away as he had first intended,

“Just let me dream, alright? You said you would try.”

His hot mouth covered your clit and suckled against it with a renewed hunger. You tried to respond,

“Mm, I will, John. We’ll try.”

“We’re going to try right now.”

His fingers spread you apart and he began to fuck you deeply on his hand, licking you apart at the seams, letting your binds and ties melt like sugar on his tongue, freeing you from the confines of the world around you, ripping you from reality and dragging you with him into his primal wonderland. You could feel his fingers stretching up, deeper than he usually did, feeling around for the soft roundness of the entrance to your womb. He found it and circled around it, as if mapping it for himself, visualizing it and teasing himself with all of its possibilities. It made you squirm, and he sucked harder, cowing you into submission with an orgasm, which you gasped out in shock. You’d been struggling to hold it together since Nova’s baby shower, and you were desperate for relief. That relief hit you like a truck, and you came hard enough to see stars in the dim light of your bedroom.

As soon as John felt you clench around his hand, he fucked you harder, adding a finger and curling them into you, stretching you to fit his thickness. He had his length out and ready at your entrance faster than you thought was physically possible, spitting down onto himself and positioning himself inside your folds, ready to commit.

Then, for all of his anxious hurry, he stopped, as if he was missing something. He looked at you, concerned and needy, still fully clothed and unable to think straight. He looked lost. You held his hips in your hands and coaxed him forward,

“It’s okay, John. C’mon, let’s try.”

You thought he might break down and cry from the relief that washed over him. It was like you’d pulled a burning arrow from his heart. He sank into you like a stone in a lake, quick and sure, wet and eager.

“Oh, fuuuuuck!” John shouted. It was loud enough that you wondered briefly about your neighbors.

He fell on top of you, crawling over you with his hulking arms, prowling up to kiss your neck like a horny teenager, full of the same level of vigor. His thrusts were deep - deeper than usual - as if he was searching out that smoothness of your anatomy, looking for his target. You canted your hips downward to help him find it. When he did, you both groaned for each other.

"That's it, my sweet girl," he rubbed your clit in gentle circles, sending you back into orbit, "I'm so fuckin' ready to see my baby in you. Fuck! I can't wait."

The way his cock throbbed with each of his thrusts was sending you into a sort of trance. Your pussy felt stuffed, like it was struggling around his fat cock, bending and pulling at its walls to allow him to fit. His kisses were formless and weak, but his hips were merciless in their pounding. The two divergent sensations forced a rift in your mind, and your pleasure stretched to meet his fierce and gentle need. You felt the wave-like tingle of your recent orgasm tumbling in the back of your mind, threatening to rise again to crash upon your shore, growing with each pull of his rocking rhythm.

"Feel so good," he confessed in your ear, "Letting me give this to you, do this for you. Like heaven, love."

You encouraged the motion of his body with your hands, touching the snapping, ferocious muscles of his spread back, digging your nails into his furry skin when he angled himself just so, casting spell after spell to hypnotize you into pliant submission. Then, he quickened, panting, pleading, whispering his pleas over and over to you or to God, you couldn’t tell. He was making you feel like one and the same. His voice cracked,

"Bloody hell, I can't hold it back. Goddamnit. I'm - ahhh!"

When he filled you, and he damn well filled you, he held himself tightly pressed to your womb’s gate like he would be washed away at sea, gripping your body like a lifeline. He reached beside you for his pillow and shoved it under your hips, groaning and panting as he came down from his high, one-track minded. John kept his cock in you like a seal, holding you there much longer than usual. As you regained your senses and your ability to form words, you looked up at him and asked,

“John, what are you doing?”

“Shh, just wait. I want to make sure it’s there. Has to be deep enough for you, love.”

He kissed you again, using his long tongue to lick all the way into your mouth, still desperate and devout. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was weeks away from your ovulation window. Maybe you would just keep that to yourself.

#captain john price #captain price #cod mw2 #john price #captain price x you #captain price x reader #cod mwii

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ageingfangirl2 · 5 months

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I Want A Divorce! Shanks (OPLA)

You get ill and Shanks offers to do your jobs around the ship, but he gets distracted easily and wants your praise. You love the man-child, but sometimes you have to tell him to actually like his age. Shanks x Reader FLUFF!

'You have a high fever so I'm going to recommend bed rest until it breaks, can't have you getting any worse,' Hongo states, placing a cold cloth on your forehead which was nice in your current state.

You cough, 'I guess I can take it easy Hongo.'

Over Hongo's shoulder, you notice Shanks watching and listening intently to the doctor's orders, 'I'm going to do all your jobs so you just rest up.'

You and Hongo snicker sharing a moment, both of you knowing Shanks wouldn't be able to cope with all that you did around the ship without complaining. Hongo pats your shoulder as he gets up from the bed. Shanks immediately takes his spot, tucking you in. You were the fourth crew member to join and the only female, and had been charmed into dating the notorious red-haired pirate.

'I love you darling but you don't even know half of what I do around here,' you whisper, throat sore.

Shanks puffs out his chest proudly, 'I'm going to make you proud, I'm going to do so good everyone will be begging me to do your jobs instead.'

You smile as he leans down and kisses the cold cloth.

TWO DAYS LATER

Shanks bursts through the doors of his quarters which you shared and throws himself on the bed next to you burying his face in a pillow. He could be an overdramatic diva at times but he was your diva. Before you can say anything Lucky walks in holding a tray of food that makes your mouth water and forget your partner.

'How are you feeling? Hongo said you should eat more fruit so I made you a fruit salad for after your soup.'

Ignoring Shanks who was now mumbling into the pillow you sit up and accept the tray of food and glass of water, 'You're all too good to me Lucky. How are the new guys?'

Lucky shrugs his shoulders, 'confused and maybe a little scared because they follow your instructions which makes captain grumpy.'

You nod, 'I'll talk to him. Thanks for the update.'

Lucky leaves and closes the door behind him. Shanks rolls onto his side and reaches for the fruit salad but you swat his hand away, 'My fruit salad captain.'

Shanks pouts, sticking out his bottom lip and shooting you his best puppy dog eyes, 'Why didn't you tell me what you did? I wouldn't have agreed otherwise. I love you, but dealing with the new crew is tedious.'

Just wait until he found out all the other odd jobs you did to help out the rest of the crew, there was a reason people called you mother hen. You pop a slice of apple in your mouth and sigh, 'What do you want me to do darling? Give you a pat on the back? Feed you a treat, give you a belly rub and call you a good boy? It's not easy but you never back down from a challenge. I know you'll give it your all until I get better.'

Shanks sits up and stops pouting, a look of determination in his eyes, 'You're right I can do this. I'm going to make you proud.'

You scoff as he steals some grapes and jumps off the bed with a new lease of life, you really did have him wrapped around your little finger.

FOUR DAYS LATER

Your fever had come down and you didn't feel like death anymore, but Hongo insisted you stay in bed for a few more days. The crew had bets on Shanks he didn't know about, he'd gotten better at doing your jobs but wasn't great. You promised to stay in bed so the crew could make some money off your partner.

THREE DAYS LATER

You were sat up in bed reading the newspaper feeling much better and enjoying relaxing for once. Shanks walks in and climbs on top of you, lying on you with his full weight, 'I know your secret babe,' he chuckles, head now resting on your chest, eyes locked with yours but he doesn't look upset.

You put the paper down and start running your fingers through his hair, 'Hongo asked me to stay in bed longer, I actually enjoyed not having as many responsibilities, makes a nice change. I'm sorry for deceiving you, Shanks.'

Shanks nuzzles into your hands more enjoying the massage, 'Now I know how much you do I want you to slow down. I'll try and help more when I can, and the crew promised to fix their own problems before coming to you for help babe.'

'Thank you. However, you lying on top of me is making parts of my body fall asleep.'

Shanks smirks, 'I'll wake them up when I need them.'

You throw your head back and laugh at his playful and flirty antics, 'I want a divorce.'

Shanks matches your laughter, 'I'm never letting you go, you mean too much to me. Maybe a few years after the marriage you can talk about a divorce.'

For all the years the two of you had been together you weren't engaged, everyone assumed you were married and the two of you kind of went with the flow. Little did you know Shanks wasn't joking about marriage this time around.

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lovelybluebirdie · 4 months

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The pale chef

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion attempts to cook for you, but things don’t go as planned.

Word Count: 1,7k

A/N: I got the idea that Astarion naturally struggles with preparing food, so I had to write some fluff about it! Hope you enjoy :)

[ AO3 ]

Astarion stirred the pot in concentration, holding a wooden spoon in his hand and wondering what exactly he was doing here.

This whole endeavour resulted from your constant need to be nice to him, he thought with a sigh – apparently it made him want to be nice as well.

It started the other day when you mentioned how you would kill for a mushroom soup. At first he thought nothing of it, but for some reason the idea stuck to his head, so Astarion decided to roam the forest and gather some mushrooms. Unfortunately it turned out rather quickly that he lacked essential knowledge on the matter, so he had to consult Gale of all people.

Putting his pride aside, he asked through gritted teeth which ones were edible and which to avoid, since he had no desire to poison you by accident. Due to Gale being Gale, the wizard not only lectured him on different kinds of fungi, he had also given a detailed instruction on the soup’s recipe.

Astarion chuckled at the absurdity of the scene. He had never thought that one day he'd voluntarily prepare food for another person – and yet he found himself bending over the hearth and mixing different ingredients, hoping for the best.

He even wore an apron borrowed from said wizard, therefore he was more than glad that his companions had left for a supply run, while you were waiting in your shared tent so he could attempt this little surprise in solitude.

Gale's voice echoed in his mind: Chop the mushrooms, add them to the broth, stir until thickened, season with salt and pepper and sprinkle a few herbs on top – that’s it! Absolutely foolproof, even for someone who prefers to appease their hunger solely with blood.

The mushrooms had been the easiest part. His dexterous fingers cut them into perfectly bite-sized pieces, but Astarion bloody forgot how long the meal should rest on the fire.

Suddenly a burning smell lingered in the air, and he sensed in horror that the soup was boiling over.

“Fuck!” He grabbed the pot with haste and put it away from the heat.

Well, he thought as he gazed at the bubbling mass, that probably meant it was done.

With utmost care not to spill more of his precious loot, he grabbed a ladle and filled a large portion for you. If he already took the effort for such a novelty, you should at least get your belly full.

Astarion slipped out of the apron and made his way back to you. He assumed you were already growing impatient, as this entire affair had consumed far more time than he had anticipated.

“Hello, darling,” he purred when entering your tent, skilfully balancing the bowl in his hand.

“Finally! I thought you'd kept me waiting all night – wait, what's that?” You put the book you were reading aside and eyed the dish in his hands.

“I’m not quite sure myself, but according to Gale's recipe it should resemble a mushroom soup.”

Your eyes lit up. “Hold on – you prepared this for me? You know that’s my favourite, right?”

“I suppose I do.” Astarion offered you the soup with a coy smile. “Although you should remember that I’m not particularly versed in the culinary arts, so it might be best to treat this with caution.”

You took the bowl from his slender fingers. “Hah, let me be the judge of that! Besides, it was about damn time you returned the favour of feeding me for once, hm?”

“I couldn’t try it myself for obvious reasons, but I doubt that this could compete with your delicious blood,” Astarion replied jokingly and sat next to you, curiously watching as you sniffed the soup.

“Smells not bad…” you affirmed while blowing on the steaming broth resting on your spoon. “Now comes the delicate part – the taste test.”

The spoon disappeared in your mouth, and suddenly your face twisted into a grimace. You swallowed hard, a cough forcing its way through your pressed lips.

Astarion couldn’t help but snort over your clumsy attempt to keep the soup inside. “So – I sense I failed you miserably?”

“What? No – I mean, it’s not… terrible,” you stuttered. “It’s… Well – did you let it burn by chance?”

“Maybe.” He dragged out the syllables dramatically and shrugged. “Be honest, my dead heart surely can take it – shall we save this mess for Scratch and the owlbear?”

“Of course not!” you exclaimed with widened eyes. “I’m not hesitant to share, but not something you specially made for me. Also, some things tend to get better once you get used to the flavour, you know.”

Before Astarion could intervene, you put another spoon to your mouth and eagerly gulped it down, followed by a second and a third.

“There’s certainly room for improvement,” you eventually muttered with full cheeks, “but it’s not that bad.”

“I’m afraid you’re a poor liar, my love.” Astarion gently grasped your wrist to prevent you from taking another mouthful. “So please let me stop you right there, before you seriously upset your gut. I’m sure we can get you something more nutritious for the evening.” Then he took the spoon from your hand and put the bowl aside.

“If you insist,” you said with fondness in your eyes while wiping soup from the corner of your mouth. “But honestly – thank you, Astarion. This was… unexpectedly sweet.”

Heat rose to his ears as he rested his hand on your stomach, starting to draw circles. “Well, let's just hope my failed culinary attempt won't kill you tonight.”

“I guess in that case Lae’zel would avenge me, so you’d better start preparing yourself.”

“Mh… You think she’d stake me?” Astarion questioned and continued to caress your belly.

“Who knows what her creativity will lead to in the end. Knowing Lae’zel, she’d probably come up with something worse,” you pondered while tapping your chin. “But I guess you wouldn't let your preferred blood supply die that easily after all, would you?”

“Oh, don't sell yourself so short,” Astarion countered in feigned bewilderment. “You know that you mean way more to me than that.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, you also keep me warm at night, sparing me the coin for a thicker blanket. You know how expensive those things can get.”

You playfully raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his response. “And if you had to give a genuine answer this time?”

Astarion clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “I thought my sentiments were rather obvious by now.”

“And yet I don't seem to tire of hearing your appreciation for me,” you teased.

“Getting greedy now, aren’t we? Fine, you're ... quite decent. Despite your constant need to do something heroic, of course.”

You poked his shoulder and turned away with an exaggerated pout.

Astarion chuckled, before he cleared his throat. “Alright – perhaps you’re more than that.”

He drew you in his arms and breathed against your cheek. “One might also say you're the first person I truly came to care about. Deeply.”

Your lips brushed over his contours, searching for his own until you kissed him tenderly. “See? Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Astarion rested a peck on your forehead and embraced you closer, a pleasant flutter spreading in his chest.

You were right, he thought as his lips curled into an affectionate smile – with you, everything seemed surprisingly easy these days.

The next morning Astarion woke to a rumbling. He opened his eyes and could only make out your silhouette as you hastily rushed outside, leaving the flap of your tent wide open.

“Love, are you alright?” he asked in concern and immediately got up to follow you.

“Don't worry, I’m fine,” you huffed under your breath.

Astarion knelt beside you in the grass and frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I said… it’s alright…” You gagged between your words. “But perhaps the soup… Ugh–”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Astarion said softly, when he noticed that you were still wearing his shirt from the other night. “And for the love of the gods – please be careful not to stain my clothes.”

“That's what you’re most concerned about right now?”

“No, of course not! But – That’s my favourite,” Astarion mumbled while he reached for your hair, smoothing it back over your shoulders.

“FANGS, what did you do to her?!” Karlach’s voice erupted like a thunderstorm from the other side of the camp as she spotted the two of you.

“Nothing – I only prepared some soup for her last night!”

“Shadowheart! Hurry up, we need you – Astarion poisoned our leader!” Karlach was already marching in the cleric's direction.

“What – no!” You both spoke almost simultaneously, causing you to laugh.

“I seem to have a sensible stomach,” you managed to add before retching again.

Astarion turned serious as he rested his hand on your back. “I'm terribly sorry, my love. That wasn’t meant to happen at all.”

You offered a weak smirk. “I know, and I appreciate the thought. Besides, that means your next dish can only improve.”

Astarion gazed at you in disbelief. “You’d consider letting me cook again after this entire debacle? Those mushrooms must have gone to your beautiful head.”

“Well, on second thought–” You couldn't finish your sentence as your stomach’s content finally emptied onto the grass.

Astarion felt a twist at his ribcage seeing you like this. “We’d better make sure I haven’t actually poisoned you, shall we? – SHADOWHEART! Get yourself over here – now!”

“I'M ON MY WAY!” Shadowheart shouted from afar.

“I think the worst is already over–” you began to explain, when another voice cut you off.

“Tsk’va! What is going on?” Lae’zel poked her head from her tent, obviously annoyed by the sudden tumult.

“Please, don’t let her stake me,” Astarion whispered and continued to stroke your back.

“Be glad that I love you, otherwise I’d probably let her get away with it this time,” you replied mischievously.

Astarion’s chest filled with warmth as he grasped for your hand. “My sweet, I truly am.” Then he bowed his head to place a kiss on your hair. “And I love you too. So much in fact, that I might consider forgiving you for ruining my shirt.”

You squeezed his hand and grinned. “Prick.”

Astarion returned your grin before his expression turned soft. “But honestly, I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

Next time he would surprise you with something less nauseating, he thought as his fingers entwined with yours – a safe choice like bringing another stray to your camp, or a nice perfume perhaps.

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icaruspendragon · 2 months

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Hey I just wanted to say thanks, because idk why this didn't just occur to me, but I've been missing "family" meals, the kind of meals I get to make for people and sit down with people I love since I came out and had to leave my house, and idk why but you posting about having family dinners with your friends where you host them made me realize that like, that's something I can still do. If I don't have the people who will invite me over to eat a meal anymore I can always be the person who invites others over myself and idk, I just wanted to say thanks

this warmed my heart in ways i don’t know how to describe.

family dinner started because i’d get some friends over on tuesdays to watch supernatural prequel the winchesters and i’d make them dinner for their troubles. i was feeding like five people max. but then the show ended and one of my friends got a new job and had to move an hour away so we moved it to the weekend so she could still come.

and then i realized that cooking is actually a form of self care for me (let’s not examine too closely how my self care is still taking care of others, it’s been discussed enough in therapy). so we started inviting other folks. and family dinner went from five people regularly to seven. and then i’d have friends from out of town come and it’d be 15-17. and now it’s not unusual for a dozen people to show up at my house on a saturday night to drink and eat and make merry.

there’s a particular kind of warmth that comes from leaning against the entry to my dining room, glass of wine curled against my chest, seeing so many of the people i love sitting around my table as they laugh and bicker and eat a meal that i used so much love to make. food that i spent hours creating because they gave me the confidence and the desire to learn how to make new things. because the effort it takes for me to make pasta or gnocchi or sauces or broths from scratch is worth it. the hours i will spend standing over a hot stove as i make gumbo or chicken and dumplings or fried everything is worth it. the easy smiles and whiskey-reddened cheeks and raucous laughter and full bellies and warm togetherness is worth the trouble.

it makes me understand the last supper (you know, minus the foreboding of betrayal). there’s a divinity in making a meal to share with those you love.

i’ve yet to find a better way express my devotion than to say, “take this, all of you, and eat of it. for it is my love given up for you.”

because even though the darkness can be chasm-wide and canyon-deep, my love is wider and deeper. it’s the bridge over the consumption of it all.

when people sit at my table and break bread that my hands have tenderly prepared i see the point of it all. loving and be loved in return.

and sometimes that love is stored in poetic words and grand gestures. and sometimes, that love is stored in a stockpot full of soup. but they both accomplish the same thing at the end of the day. warmth and safety and care and devotion.

it’s love. plain and simple and small.

#ayo sorry to get philosophical about making dinner on main #maybe it’s the alabama in me #but i just love cooking for folks #for my family of folks i found along the way #love really is stored in the soup

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