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sgrplumditz · 4 months

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You had his baby and he didn't know.

She sat with the 3-month-old baby girl. Every time she looked at her she saw His eyes, the eyes of the father of her child that had no idea she existed. A perfect blend of the two, but like her father the most recognizable feature was her eyes. Carrying her mother's soft and feminine features, while having her father's gaze.

She was standing in the kitchen of her two-bedroom apartment preparing to pump her full, plump breasts as her daughter slept soundly in a playpen nearby. Thinking of her daughter had become second nature to her, which meant that her thoughts only revolved around her daughter from the moment she found out she was pregnant. Although she was struggling as a single mother, she did not hold any resentment toward Simon. After all, he had no idea their daughter existed.

Simon was forced to leave for his work responsibilities. He knew he would be gone for a long time, it was a no-brainer that they would go their own separate paths. When her thoughts were not consumed by her daughter they were consumed by Him, she craved the closure, or support, or comfort that she knew he could bring her.

Interrupted. Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. Her protective nature took over as she walked to the front door while holding a bottle in her right hand. Her heart sank the moment she looked through the peephole. "What is He doing here?" she thought before slowly swinging the door open.

His gaze immediately dropped to the pink bottle in her hand, "Why didn't you tell me?" he spoke, his voice was soft, yet it still held a slight tone of hostility. His accent was prominent, something she noticed would happen whenever he was emotional. His eyes looked drained, tired, and confused, but physically he looked as good as ever. His tall stature and wide frame cast a shadow over her significantly smaller build.

"Tell you what?" she said as her face flushed red and her heart pounded in her ears. Her ears also burning.

Simon walked into her apartment closing the door behind him, "You have never been a good liar". There it was, the exact gaze she saw in her daughter staring back at her in His body. That same gaze turned to his sleeping daughter in the pink playpen that was littered with stuffed animals and pink accents.

She couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling. Anger, frustration, joy, sadness -- it was evident that he was on a roller coaster.

"Why didn't you tell me?", he sighed running his hand through his thick blonde hair. She was stunned, but she didn't know if it was because he actually showed up, or if she was stunned because this was their first time standing in a room together as a family. "Who told you?" her voice came out soft, timid almost.

"Price, but that is beside the matter" he paused to take in the sight of his daughter. "Why didn't you contact me? I gave you my cell for emergencies... th-this is an appropriate reason to contact me." he now sounded frustrated with her. She was gripping the bottle in her hand still, unable to relax and let it go. Was he mad?

He wasn't. He approached her and gently took the bottle out of her hand -- he knew her better than anyone meaning that he knew that she reacted poorly to confrontation. "You're okay, Love" he spoke gently as he held her small hands in his, "Talk to me, please." he pleaded as he guided them to the nearby couch, making her take a seat. There was new sense of gentleness when he spoke. The shift came naturally to him as now he was fixated on protecting the mother of his child in all aspects. His thumbs massaged her wrists gently while he waited for her to find her words. Simon has always been patient, a quality she loved about him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only audible noise coming from the cooing sounds of their daughter. "Whenever you're ready, Love. I'm here to stay," he said with his warm hands still on her.

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

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aeyumicore · 3 months

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☾ .⭒˚ she can't come to the phone right now ♡ xavier x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: xavier x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, porn with very little plot

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 3.1k (who is she practicing short smuts)

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, dom!xavier, dark!xavier, ooc!xavier (unless you consider dark xavier canon), jealous!xav, vaginal sex, prone bone, slight voyeurism, light choking, breeding kink, jealousy, sex while on the phone, hair pulling, squirting, unprotected sex

⋆.˚ ☾ image link: https://x.com/honiraccoon/status/1758152675500380654?s=20 (it's nsfw so i highly rec checking it out bc i can't put it here LOL)

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: HELLO bet you didn’t expect me back so soon! I am back with a SHORT smut this time, based on this amazing ovulating inducing fanart @/honiraccoon on twit/x made (with their permission of course). I’ve attached the photo below :’) go support them and their art!

this is very dom and ‘dark’ (if you’ve seen the glitches) xavier. the smut itself is not that dark!! if you’re not a fan of this version of xavier you will not enjoy this.

also header is from @/osk_purinnumee twitter <3

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚

Honestly, you had absolutely no idea how you ended up in this position. After not seeing Xavier for several days, having been sent on different missions this week, he and you finally had a coinciding day off. And so you’d spent the most perfect day together, complete with morning cuddles after sleeping in, a homemade breakfast, and a fruitful day at the arcade.

You couldn't stop thinking about the signature Xavier smile you’d gotten to see all day, soft and pure, just like Xavier himself. But this was not the gentle and adoring Xavier you’d seen all day, the Xavier you’d come to know and love.

You found yourself naked, with your stomach pressed firmly into Xavier’s plush mattress and your feet planted on the ground at the feet of the bed, back arched so deeply it might snap. He was pressed so deeply and harshly on top of you, his feet planted right behind yours. He’d pulled so many orgasms out of you already and showed no signs of relenting, his pelvis smacking your ass repeatedly as he forced himself in and out of you.

"X-Xavier, I c-can’t come anymore, please,” your voice was hoarse from screaming, unable to keep up with Xavier’s insatiable vigor. You had no idea what had gotten into him today. It’d been a relatively stress-free day, but he seemed to be using your bodies to relieve some kind of intense emotion built up inside of him.

"Yes you can, I know you can,” he cooed, his mouth right into your ear as his body crushed you against the bed, "You’re a good girl aren’t you?”

His hands gently grabbed a fist full of your hair, urging you up so your cheeks pressed against each other. You cried out at the sensation, "Y-yes, I’m a good girl.”

The wet sounds of his cock ramming in and out of your abused cunt filled the room. Xavier’s grip was tight on your scalp and on your waist, and you were sure you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingers the next day.

"You’re my good girl, right?” he groaned out as he removed the hand from your waist to lift you by hooking his arm around your stomach, so that your ass arched higher into the air. At this angle his thick length entered you so deeply that it felt like he might burst through your cervix. Your eyes squeezed shut as your tongue slipped out, panting against the brute force of his thrusts. Though his tone was dominating and demanding, you couldn’t help but notice a sliver of insecurity lacing his words.

He tugged at your hair, and you yelped at the slight pain bleeding into the pleasure Xavier was giving you. He repeated, this time more demanding and threatening, "Whose good girl are you?”

Your eyes snapped open as his thrusts pushed through every corner of your poor pussy, ravaging every single inch of you. You forced your brain to focus on his words, his rare domineering attitude driving you absolutely insane, "Yours Xavier! M’your good girl.”

You felt him harden even further at your words. His voice against your ear is deceptively gentle, "Really? Then why was my good girl so preoccupied with her phone today?” his words are so domineering and possessive, you find yourself clenching at the thought of his adorable jealousy.

So that's how you found yourself in this position.

"H-hah, m’sorry xav. Jeremiah kept – ah – texting me today to—”

Xavier cuts you off, his thrusts stuttering briefly, "Jeremiah? He was the one you were – hah – texting all fucking day?”

"Y-yes but he was just sending me, ahhh, stupid ph-photos of different animals with kn-knives,” you sputter out, nails digging into the fitted sheet of his mattress. You almost wanted to laugh at how comical it all sounded but the feeling of him inside of you rendered you a speechless mess of sweat, cum, and ecstasy.

"Is that so?” and with that, Xavier fucks you with an unprecedented pace. He thrusts so hard your ass ripples against his pelvis and your thighs struggle to stay upright as he presses further into your aching body. You can feel yourself slowly succumbing to the exhaustion of four orgasms, a fifth in the distant horizon.

"You are mine,” he all but growls into your neck, his fingers digging into the delicate skin of your throat. You're jolted back to consciousness at the feeling of his hand closing into your airway, deliciously cutting off your breath. Xavier’s rarely this aggressive and brutal. Sure he’d love to take the lead as often as he surrendered it to you, but this was a whole different Xavier. And you were positively obsessed.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this,” he demands against the shell of your ear, using his canines to graze your earlobes. You shiver at his words, cunt clamping down onto him. He moans in response to your grip, but only driving deeper and harder.

His hard abdomen continued to mold perfectly into your arched back, bending your body into mind numbing proportions. He releases your waist, causing you to slump back into the bed. Instead wraps his arm around both your breasts, squeezing to the point of seeing black spots in your vision.

The force of his thrusts causes your body to rock onto the bed under his large and imposing stature. Every single push made your clit brush against the soft bed sheets, stimulating you beyond belief. You were sure Xavier’s sheets were absolutely filthy from the spend of your multiple orgasms, smearing all over them as he pushed your body to its limits.

As you continue to moan uncontrollably for him, Xavier refuses to stop whispering filthy praises into your ear, driving you closer and closer.

"You’re so beautiful like this, your body was made just for me, right?”

You nod feverishly, his words going straight to your cunt. It wasn’t often you got to witness this side of Xavier and you were living for it.

"M’all yours xav, no one else’s ever,” you choke out, the force of his cock deep in your throat.

His head dips down, pressing wet kisses into your shoulder blades before biting down and sucking brutally hard, and then licking at them soothingly. Xavier smiles, admiring the hickies forming on your trembling soft skin, marking you as his.

"If only Jeremiah could see you like this. Maybe he would realize you’re mine, huh?”

You wanted to retort, reassure him that he had absolutely nothing to be concerned about, but your brain could only focus on his massive cock claiming every part of your throbbing cunt. He’d rendered you absolutely fucked out, a vessel of ecstasy and a means to pleasure himself. Your brain fought to form words, to no avail. Only the most primal parts of you remained, capable of moaning and screaming for him and nothing more.

You try to speak again, but before you can get anything out the sound of your phone on the bed beside your slick bodies rang out. The screen lit up and through your fucked out haze and tears in your eyes, you could vaguely make out Jeremiah’s contact photo lighting up the screen.

"Speak of the devil,” Xavier grits out. Despite the annoyance in his voice you can also make out the faintest hint of mischief.

"Pick it up love,” he whispers almost tauntingly, thrusts still unrelenting, "We can’t ignore our poor Jeremiah can we?”

While you can tell his words are laced with jealousy and faint bitterness, you know Xavier cares about Jeremiah and trusts him fully. It really felt like he was just, for once, giving into his primal urges, and enjoying the hell out of it too.

You shook your head no, doing your best to push your phone away.

"No?” Xavier asks, amused, "But I thought it was urgent that you respond to him immediately.”

You want to roll your eyes at his childishness, but before you can do anything, Xavier snatches the phone from beside you, slowing his rhythm to a languid roll of his pelvis against your flushed ass.

"X-Xavier—“ but he cuts you off with a pointed thrust that knocks the wind out of you, his thick length absolutely rearranging your guts. You whine at the blinding pleasure, almost forgetting the fact that Xavier was picking up your cell phone, while he was inside of you.

"Hello?” Xavier answers cooly, as if he wasn’t knee deep into your cunt. He holds the phone to his ear, laying down into the arch of your back. His cheek is pressed against yours, his hot breath blowing into your burning skin while he speaks, as he continues to ravage you.

Your eyes widen as you realize he didn’t just decline the call, and that he was actually on the phone. But Xavier reads you like the back of his hand, covering your mouth with his palm before you can protest. He grips your face gently, but not allowing a single word to come out beyond the muffled sounds of your sensual moans.

"Oh, hey Jeremiah. Y/n forgot her phone and is currently occupied by me right now,” Xavier speaks calmly, but the increased passion in his thrusts send your eyes reeling into the back of his skull. His words hold a suspicious double meaning, and you pray Jeremiah doesn’t catch on. Similarly, you desperately hope that the loud wet sounds of his pelvis pounding into you can’t be heard on the phone, cause they ring so loudly in your ear.

Every time you try to speak, Xavier’s grip on your face gets tighter and his pace gets rougher, harder. It’s like he’s trying to force the lewd moans out of your mouth, like he wanted Jeremiah to hear everything he was doing to you, to hear the sound of his skin slapping into yours. Strangely enough, the risk of it all intensifies the pleasure ten-fold. You tighten around Xavier as you continue to leak everywhere.

Xavier swears inexplicably under his breath, though you’re sure Jeremiah can still hear it, "Squeezing me so fucking tight.” your eyes squeeze shut at the excitement and embarrassment of Xavier’s inability to contain his own pleasure. Or perhaps, he didn’t contain it on purpose.

As if to punish you, Xavier gives you a deliberate and pointed thrust, letting his cock angle upwards into your g spot while his body pushes you down so your clit drags against the bed, forcing the most vulgar sob out of your lips, bordering between a strangled cry and a mewling whimper. Simultaneously, his hold on your chin loosens and he slips his index and middle finger into your waiting mouth. His actions cause your previously muffled moans to ring out completely unrestricted.

Your eyes widen as you realize there is absolutely no way Jeremiah didn’t hear that. It seems like you’re correct because Xavier’s soft voice pierces through the thick sexual tension in the air.

"No. That’s the sound of a kitten,” you can hear the grin in his voice as he continues to roll his hips into you, his fingers toying with your tongue. You vaguely hear Jeremiah’s muffled voice through the phone, doing your best to keep your sounds at bay. And failing miserably.

"Okay, bye.” Xavier tosses your phone back on the bed, kneeling back into your body and into your neck.

"Do you think he bought that?” Xavier’s grinning again, and you are certain he’s teasing you.

"Xavier!” you cry, the mortification settling in with the pleasure, both feelings fighting to dominate your consciousness.

“I told you, you’re mine. Jeremiah needs to know that,” he grumbles breathlessly into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe.

"M’yours xav, everyone knows that,” you cry out. Xavier moans out in satisfaction, and you feel his cock twitching inside of your gummy walls. His pace grows erratic as his length swells inside of you, and you can tell he’s so close to coming undone.

His husky groans by your ear fuel the fire of your own orgasm, stoking the burning embers until they threaten to burst into a full blown wildfire.

"Sh-shit you’re close huh love? Getting so damn tight around me,” Xavier grunts, biting into your neck. Suddenly he picks your phone back up and you can distinctly see the flash shining down on the bed below your bodies.

"X-Xavier?” you moan, completely blissed out, unable to turn your head to see what he’s doing. He lifts his body off of yours and grips your waist with one hand, pushing you down harder on his erection.

"Don’t worry baby, just taking some videos for our dear friend,” he mutters and you hear the distinct beep of your phone starting a recording. You try to protest but Xavier’s pace becomes unrelenting and you’re only able to moan out his name once more.

"You gonna come for me, my love?” his voice is far away, clouded with intense lust. His grip on your waist tightens as he watches the ripples of your flesh against his viscous pounding. Your back arches at his words, cunt tightening in anticipation of your climax.

"M’so close xav, gonna cum s-soon,” you wail, letting your body tighten around him, wanting him to cum with you.

His hand leaves your waist and presses against the bulge on your tummy, "Can you feel that love? I’m right here. Should I put a baby in here? Think it’ll fit?”

You squeal at his words, the pure filth dripping off of them like gasoline to the wildfire that is your impending orgasm, raging through every inch of your body. Your pussy squeezes around him again.

"Ffuuck, I think that’s a yes, huh baby? Want me to cum inside you?” he’s panting desperately as he fills you repeatedly, "Fuck – you would look so beautiful with my baby – hah – inside of you.”

In your fucked out state, you nod excitedly, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim with his essence, everywhere. You could worry about the repercussions after.

"Then everyone will know you’re mine huh? Right baby?” you nod again, your voice nothing more than a strangled moan.

"Say it for the camera love, let him know,” he encourages, his voice deep and throaty. He doesn’t say who, but you know exactly who Xavier is referencing.

Though you don’t want to indulge his jealousy, you find yourself unable to deny the man who was guts deep in your womb. And so you cry out, "M’all yours xav, please. Need you t’cum inside. I’m a g-good girl, I deserve your cum, please.”

Your phone shakes in Xavier’s hands as your words set him off, "Fuck, don’t worry baby, s’all for you. Gonna give it all to you ’kay? You ready love?”

You tighten in response, signaling that you’re about to fall into the chasm of your orgasm.

"X-Xavier m’cumming,” you wail, gripping onto the sheets for dear life, your ass grinding deeper into him, back arching into the bed. Your body trembles as the climax overtakes you. Your vision spots as the sensitivity of multiple orgasms wrecks your body. The pressure in your guts is so intense, threatening to explode, and you feel yourself release all over Xavier’s groin. The sensation was so new and foreign it had your brain reeling, trying to grasp onto this new ecstasy your body was falling into.

"H-holy shit did you just squirt on me?” Xavier groans out, still recording the sight of your ass against him. And he thanked god he was recording at all, able to capture the sight of you squirting all over him.

“I-I think so xav, m’sorry,” you cry, still quivering around his brutal thrusts. The soaked friction of the wet skin between you two splashes and your cheek burns in embarrassment. You’d never squirt before, and you were mortified.

"No,” he grits breathlessly, almost threateningly, "Don’t be sorry. Fuck, need to see you do that for me again.” you hear the click of the recording shutting off, and your phone bounces back onto the mattress. Xavier grabs your waist with both hands and thrusts sloppily, cock spasming in your tight walls.

He groans through every last thrust, and you cling onto consciousness, riding the last waves of your orgasm. Xavier falls back in place on top of you, wanting to be as physically close to you as possible when he finished. His abdomen pressed into the arch of your back and his chin dug into the crook of your neck. With one final savage stroke, he spills everything he has into you.

Xavier shivers through his orgasm, rope after rope of milky white essence dripping into you. You can feel every pump of his warmth inside you. He thrusts languidly a few more times for good measure, wanting it to reach as physically deep as possible. He’d be damned if he let a single drop go to waste.

Your legs give out and you rest yourself entirely on the bed while Xavier rests on top of you, supporting most of his weight with his arms propped on the bed, still caging you in. He presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, then your neck, and then your cheek.

"You’re going to make such a good mommy one day,” Xavier murmurs into your ear, rubbing slow and soothing circles into your ribcage.

Your heart squeezes at his words, and simultaneously your cunt around his softening cock. Xavier hisses at the overstimulation, "Fuck you’re going to squeeze every last drop out of me love. You like the idea of being a mommy huh?”

You nod sleepily, losing your grip on consciousness, "Mm, slipping out Xavier.”

Xavier pulls out of you with a groan, and you whimper at the feel of the release dripping down your thighs. He picks you up gently so your legs no longer hang off the bed and then flops down beside you, tucking you into his chest.

You sigh contently against his softly heaving heart. You feel Xavier moving around, while still keeping his arm wrapped around you. You force your eyes open so you can see what he’s up to, and find him unlocking your phone, the light illuminating his face in the darkening room.

"Xav? What are you doing?” you mumble sleepily, nestling back into his warm body.

"Just sending some videos,” Xavier whispers, stroking your hair with his free hand.

Your eyes fly open and you sit up to face him, "Xavier! Absolutely not!”

He grins mischievously at you, "Relax love, I just sent them to myself.” the reassuring smile he gives you reminds you your soft, adoring, and gentle Xavier is back. But you can’t help but anticipate the next time you’ll see that side of Xavier again.

Bonus: some of the pics that Jeremiah was texting mc:

taglist: @queenashen @kttriangle @lyssa-211 @jeikeun

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 4 months

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Dad!Simon Riley x Fem!reader

Simon Riley: Girl Dad

From the request here ; pic screenshot from this video

“Can I come in now?” you ask, popping your head into the nursery as Simon finishes getting your 3 month old daughter Anna ready for the day.

She wriggles in his grasp, babbling away as he mutters in a hushed tone to her about keeping still for daddy.

"Ya think this is funny yeah," he teases her, tickling her chubby tummy before trying to wrangle one of her legs in his grasp.

It’s like music to his soul the way the happy talking sounds she makes touches his heart and it only makes him want to do whatever he can so that she will keep making them for him. That’s why it always takes longer than usual to get her dressed when he does it.

You crane your neck trying to sneak a peak, but his voice stops you. “Not yet,” he says and moves his body to block your view.

He doesn’t want you to see before he’s ready. The outfit is one he picked up the other night on a whim, the moment he saw it he knew Anna had to have it for today, and he wants to get it all on to give the full effect. He finishes straightening her up and tucks her body sitting up in the crook of his arm. She is content as can be being snuggled at the side of his chest, happily clapping her little hands together as they turn to face you.

“Well?” he asks, brow furrowed and body slightly tense as he waits for your critique. “How'd we do?”

You match your daughter’s vibrant smile as you see the outfit Simon’s bought all on his own: a bright yellow corduroy romper with frill capped sleeves, little socks with suns on them, and a big yellow bow to match. Your heart swells full of emotion at the sight; it’s just an outfit, sure, but it really means so much more than the sum of its parts. You know just how far Simon has come in his journey with her and it truly warms your heart to see him so smitten with the little babe this way.

When she first came home, there wasn’t a moment when Simon wasn’t on edge around her, nervous that somehow, someway, he would end up hurting her. She seemed so small to him in those first days, so incredibly delicate as she lay sleeping in her bassinet like the most perfect doll, that he was certain that someone as rough around the edges as him would never be able to be near her without breaking her and that was something he was not willing to risk.

She is his gift, his light, a treasure that came from out of all the years of heartache and hardship and he would never let anything bad ever happen to her.

It took some time and a lot of encouragement on your part, but finally Simon found his confidence and never looked back. Any chance now that he can get he is holding her, changing her, feeding her; anything and everything he can do to show her his love by his actions alone. And whether he gives himself the credit for it or not, he is doing a marvelous job.

“How did I know you'd choose something yellow?” you laugh as Simon glares at you, trying not to crack that fake tough facade.

It is becoming a pattern for him to choose yellow things when it comes to Anna. When she came home from the hospital a few months ago in that yellow onesie, it was like a flip and been switched and that was it; that was her hue from then on. It is strange, Simon never really had a favorite color before that special day and then suddenly yellow was never the same. Now he cannot imagine his life without it.

His face breaks into a smile as he shakes his head, not ready to admit that he is becoming predictable. “Come on, did I do it right or not? Just want to be sure it looks fine on her. We got a big day and I want it ta be perfect.”

Your face brightens as you look her over again. “She looks adorable, Simon,” you reply cheerfully. “You did good, baby. I think you’re really getting the hang of this dad thing.”

Looking down at her in his grasp, he beams with a sense of accomplishment and his tense shoulders ease. Parenting is not something Simon ever thought he could be good at, he never thought he would be the one with the chance at having a family, but each day he is making strides in the right direction to becoming the dad he desperately wants to be.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own today?” you ask as you watch Simon place a delicate kiss to the top of Anna’s small, wispy-haired head. “Cause I can stay if you need me to. All I gotta do is make a call and let them know I can’t go.”

Simon shakes his head and reaches for you with his free arm, pulling you by the wrist until you step close enough that he can wrap his arm around your hip to pull you against him opposite your daughter. “Ya worry too damn much, sweetheart,” he says as his hand finds your cheek, his thumb stroking across the soft skin before he is leaning his face in towards yours.

His full lips catch you in their tender embrace, a kiss that is full of emotion, and in an instant your eyes flutter closed as you relinquish yourself to him. You let all those worries fall away as the gentle touch of his lips, the heat from his breath, the passion flowing through his kiss calms your mind. He conveys so much without ever speaking a single word and in a flash you are put at ease.

Slowly he breaks away, already missing your taste the moment your lips part. Eyes still shut, he rests his forehead against yours, rocking all three of you back and forth a moment as he enjoys the feeling of having his entire life resting comfortably in his arms. You both open your eyes after a time and look down at Anna babbling away to herself, before looking back at each other. This is all still new and unchartered territory, so the both of you are working to figure it all out, but so far it has been anything except bad.

“I promise, I got ‘er. We’re gonna be just fine,” he says quietly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

At the sound of his voice Anna turns her face to find his and it lights up as it always does whenever her favorite person talks to her. She even employs her recently-learned skill of giggling happily to punctuate that she agrees with whatever it was she was just asked, even though she doesn’t understand a word of it.

Simon kisses your forehead to be sure the worry is completely gone. “It’s just a couple hours on base and then we’ll be home the rest of tha day,” he says. “Besides, might be nice to show her off to the guys. She does look real pretty today.”

“That she does,” you agree as you quickly check the clock on your phone and with a kiss to your baby and one more for Simon you are gone, leaving the pair alone.

Simon gets to work double checking everything in his backpack that he has to bring for her: extra diapers, wipes, bottles, toys, anything he could need while he is out. It’s in his nature, years of military training has come in handy as he is prepared for it all. Satisfied, he turns back to the baby at his side. “Alright princess,” he says, “ready to go see where your dad spends all his time when he ain’t at home?”

The moment he’s walking on base, black backpack filled with essentials strapped to his back, tiny baby girl dressed in bright clothes tucked in his arms, he’s drawing curious stares from everyone he passes. This is the first time she has gone to base with him, so of course people are going to be inquisitive about things. How can they not? Simon looks like… well, Simon: intense, stoic, intimidating. Even in just his black t-shirt and jeans, with his lightweight balaclava on, he is still an imposing figure. Never one to be shy per se, Simon still does not like the attention on him, but since he is with his little angel he doesn’t care. He is proud to show off the best damn thing he has ever helped to create.

The contrast between him and his daughter he knows is jarring and Simon laughs to himself at how absurd this must look for someone like him with such a coarse demeanor to be handling such a precious, sweet thing. Who would have thought that the scary skull-masked military officer would have a family of his own? It is a shock he is sure.

“Seems we’re gonna be the talk ‘round ‘ere today, princess,” he says as he looks down at Anna, secure in his grasp as they continue on towards his office.

She is too busy looking everywhere her little head can turn to be bothered by anything. Being out and about with her father, seeing things she’s never seen before, which is pretty much everything, has her interested and engaged with the sights around her. Those small brown eyes, the ones that are a carbon copy of his, stare on as she silently takes everything in.

He makes it to his office and gets set up, grabbing everything that he needs in one tight spot as he sits Anna up in his lap with a toy for her to play with. She is content for a while as he goes through paperwork, occasionally he gives her a tickle or readjusts her on his thigh, something to show that he hasn’t forgotten she’s there with him.

Barely an hour has passed before Anna begins to whine and fuss and Simon knows what that means: she’s hungry. He grabs the prepped bottle out of the bag and walks to the small microwave in the corner of the room, warming it and testing it on his wrist before he moves back to his desk and sits back down in his chair, cradling her in his arms against his chest as he places the nipple of the bottle in her mouth.

“There ya are, luv,” he comforts her until she settles into him, “I gotcha. Daddy didn’t forget.”

Unknown to Simon, there is an unexpected guest that has just appeared near his office door, though before the person can even knock to announce themselves, they are caught by surprise at the sight before them. Johnny, who’s come to deliver something from Price, stops right in his tracks and stares at the scene before him.

He stands there, watching as Simon tenderly holds this little infant in his arms, quietly rocking back and forth as she drinks her bottle. Every now and again he speaks to her softly, the skin around his eyes tightening to indicate there is a smile underneath the mask. There is an ease to his movements as if he knows exactly what he is doing and it genuinely shocks the young sergeant. Who could have ever guessed that this would be something Simon would be such a natural at?

As Anna is finishing the bottle, Simon looks up as he feels a pair of eyes on him to see Johnny standing there, obscured by the doorframe, silently watching. He sets the empty bottle down on his desk and moves Anna to sit upright on his thigh, leaning her against the crook of his arm so that he can pat and rub her back until she burps.

“Can I help ya, Mactavish?” Simon’s distinct voice calls out, catching Johnny off-guard as he realizes he’s been caught staring.

“Sorry, L.T.” Johnny stutters out as he hurriedly steps inside the office, remembering why he is here in the first place, and sets some papers upon his desk. “Price sent these; says he needs ya to look ‘em over.”

Simon nods in understanding, his hand still rubbing the baby’s back. “Will do,” he agrees, thinking this will be the end of the interaction, but Johnny still lingers. “Anything else?”

“I heard ‘round base that ya had your little one here today. Had to come see if it was true fer myself,” Johnny admits with guilt.

“Well, ya could meet ‘er if ya like, ‘stead a standin’ there just starin’.” Simon nods his head down at the baby. “Johnny, this is Anna.”

The sergeant observes her as she begins to coo, her eyes catching the tattoos along Simon’s muscular arm, her petite fingers tapping and poking along the lines and patterns with delight as she loves to do when he holds her like this. She’s so engrossed that she hasn’t realized there is another person in the room yet.

Johnny clears his throat. “Didn’t mean ta stare, ya know. It’s just a surprise ta see she’s actually real, I guess.”

The original members of the 141 know about Anna, it wasn’t something that Simon could hide once she was about to make her way into the world, but it’s a bit jarring for the Scot to see someone that he had previously known to be so toughened by the world change so drastically. Anyone who gets close enough can see it in the lieutenant’s soft gaze: he adores the little girl and that is… interesting, to say the least.

Simon chuckles at the clear surprise in Johnny’s voice as Anna is still playing with his arm. “Bit absurd, innit Johnny?” he questions while watching her with a prideful twinkle in those brown eyes as she giggles. “Me with a kid? Doesn’t seem possible, does it?”

“Ya seem a natural ta me,” the Scot admits in awe of how easily he makes it seem, as if he was given some secret knowledge that made him know exactly what to do and how to do it. “Then again I don’t know the first thing ‘bout babies. Wouldn’t even know where ta start.”

Simon is reminded about how when he first found out he was going to be a dad he had started reading all the books, researching all the things like a good, capable soldier would, but how all of that prep was nothing in the end as the moment she came into the world everything was turned on its head. It’s not like in the books, it’s so much better and it is days like today that make it worth all the worry and fear and anxiety he had to break through to get here.

“Easier than ya think,” Simon replies with a chuckle as he moves Anna around facing forward now. “Once ya get the hang of it.”

“Don’t tell my girl that,” Johnny laughs back. “Can’t afford one right now.”

Anna’s attention is stirred away from Simon’s tattoos and towards the other man standing in the room with them. She looks up at Johnny in awe, not having much experience with others outside of Simon and you, but Johnny shoots her his classic smile and he has her giggling again in a flash.

“Well hey there Anna, nice ta meet ya,” he introduces himself before turning back to Simon. “I think she likes me.”

“It's your hair she's eyein’,” Simon points out, following her eye line.

Sure enough as soon as Johnny runs his hands over the mohawk cut into his hair her eyes light up. “Can she touch it?” he asks Simon and he nods in agreement.

Johnny falls to one knee in front of the little girl, leans his head down, and lets her put her hand in it. Her short, chubby fingers pull the strands as she laughs, the short, spiky pieces pricking her fingertips. She pulls away quickly before bringing her hand back in again, a sort of game that she repeats a few more times before Johnny gets back to his feet.

“He’s a funny one, ain’t he, princess?” Simon questions his little one as he strokes his thumb around the smile that fills her tiny, round cheeks. “Ya like him, yeah?”

She coos, her little lips forming an ‘o’ so that she sounds like a dove. That’s the closest to a yes as they are going to get.

“I sure ‘ope ya do, seein’ as I’m your dad’s best friend,” Johnny picks, looking to Simon to see his reaction.

He rolls his eyes at the statement, but stays silent and doesn’t correct him. Instead Simon opts to end the conversation there, needing to get finished here anyway so that he can get back home. As much as Johnny’s company isn’t as grating as it first was, he is ready to spend some alone time with the baby before you get back. “Well, if ya don’t mind, I need to get back to it. Say goodbye Anna.”

Johnny agrees, though his mouth twitches like he wants to ask a question, but ultimately decides not to ask it in the end. He turns to leave, but Simon guesses at what he is wanting and calls out behind him so that he stops.

“And ya can tell the others they can come see ‘er if they want,” Simon assures, “I know they’re probably itchin’ to get a glimpse of her too. That’s why they sent ya, yeah? See if I was up for company?”

Johnny turns around and nods his head. Fuck, they’ve been caught. “Will do, L.T.” he says. “Can ya blame us though? She’s pretty damn cute.”

And with that he turns back around. As Johnny leaves the office with the sounds of Simon and Anna at his back, he can’t help but smile to himself at seeing his friend finally have a bit of happiness; if anyone deserves it, it is Simon. Wait till the others see just how much things around here are going to change.

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

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letoasai · 4 months

Text

Will work for food ~ part 2

Part 1 - Master list

Tim was anxious which wasn’t an emotion he often put into use. Even on a bad day he was calculating, overly prepared, and usually ran on caffeine. He was a young genius and a hell of a detective, but nerves probably didn’t care about his resume or personality quirks.

He rubbed his thumb against the folded piece of paper kept hidden in his pocket. He’d examined it in the batcave but it held no clues of note. It was just a normal sheet of paper, and the ink could have been a pen from any local corner store. No DNA. No fingerprints. All the same, he kept it out of sight in public.

Tim had been antsy about summoning Phantom, mostly because he felt like he was disrespectfully late. When he’d first laid eyes on the living form of the Ghost King, he’d felt a familiar ache. Neglect. He didn’t know if the king had neglected himself, or if the blame lay at someone else's feet, but he just couldn’t stand it.

He’d offered food and company in an instant, the words popping out of his mouth before he could think them through. Despite that, he didn’t regret the offer. He could have done without the teasing from his siblings and teammates, but he didn’t regret the offer once.

His only remorse was with the clean up efforts. The Infinite creature, Vortex, had left quite the destruction in his wake. Even with many extended members of the League assisting with clean up, it took ages. Search and rescues were active and humanitarian groups had arrived to offer aid but some things couldn’t be done in a weekend.

The bats returning to Gotham didn’t offer much in the way of a break either. A Scarecrow outbreak with his fear toxin. Three different gangs in the middle of a turf war. A weapons smuggling ring being uncovered… It was one thing after another for a minute.

When all was said and done it had been nearly two months before Tim had the opportunity to keep his promise. He was in his civvies, standing at the mouth of an alleyway across from a little italian place that looked cheap but was actually the best tasting, most authentic italian place in all of Gotham. Little hole in the wall places often were the best.

The problem now was his ability to overthink things. Would he summon the king in a glow of green that would light up the street like a beacon? Would he arrive in his ghostly form, crown hovering above his hooded head?

Phantom looked human enough but was he? Did he come from Earth originally? There were plenty of aliens that looked human. It would be rude to assume…

What name did he use? Did he need to go full title? Why didn’t he ask more questions when he had the chance?

“King Phantom.” Tim muttered, deciding to just go for it. He still clutched the paper sigil out of sight. “Uh, Ghost King Phantom. King of the Infinite Realm. Um… Or was it High King…”

“Just Phantom is fine.”

Tim tensed, all of his hair standing on end at the voice directly behind him in the alley. He hadn’t made a sound but he needed to actively work to exhale and turn around to face his guest. There had been zero indication of his arrival, and he was thankfully, in his living form.

He was in jeans and an over sized hoodie. Tim could just barely make out a faded NASA written in the front. That was a point in the direction of him possibly being a human from Earth. He wore shoes this time, beat up looking kicks that had seen better days. His hood was also drawn over his head, likely to hide his bony appearance. Tim did spy the tail of his braid over his shoulder though, his hair black to further prove he was in his living form.

“You…scared the hell out of me.” Tim said, smiling after another hard exhale. “I am sorry it took so long, your Highness.”

“Phantom.” He corrected, looking around the street and taking it all in. Tim could clock him making note of the turns down the street and the buildings with fire escapes even with his hood up. People just had certain body language when casing an area. “I figured it would be a while, if you summoned me at all. I was not going to hold you to a whim, Red Robin.”

“I said i would…” Tim muttered. “Uh, it’s Tim, out of uniform. If you don’t mind.”

“Tim.” He repeated. That softness to his voice remained, and honestly, Tim liked the cadence of it. He liked it as much as he was sure he never wanted to hear Phantom raise his voice. “I understand.” He hesitated only a beat. “You can call me Danny. Phantom is probably a silly thing to call someone in a city like this.”

“Not if it’s your name.”

“Danny is okay.” He said, and for whatever reason, Tim noticed now how he kept his hands in his pockets, likely to hide them too. Frail, skeletal looking hands would just frighten some people. “Food? For a favor?”

“No favor involved. I invited you out.” Tim said. “I mean, maybe we can chat about stuff but you aren’t obligated to answer or anything.”

Phantom…Danny nodded, shuffling for a moment and looking around again. The height of the buildings seemed to be a mild interest of his. “Where are we eating?”

“Well, if you like Italian, we’re walking across the street.” He thought pasta and breads would be both filling and flavorful. It would also be something easily packed up for Danny to take with him.

“I’ll eat anything.” Danny informed him. “I have no preferences after all this time.” He hesitated. “Or maybe i need to rediscover them, but anything will be fine.”

“Let’s… let’s go then.” Tim said, walking with Danny at his side. He’d made a reservation which wasn’t strictly necessary at such a small place but it gave him the option of reserving a corner table to offer them a little more privacy.

They walked in, the hostess greeting them with a smile before leading them to their table and leaving them with bread, water, and menus. There were a few other full tables but it wasn’t packed the way it would be in the evening.

Danny kept his hood up, but it was Gotham and no one questioned the decision. They just left him in peace to not start a conflict with someone who wasn’t causing any trouble. He also kept his hands out of sight until the hostess had left. He sipped the water once and broke off only a little piece of the bread. He buttered it and ate on it while flipping open the menu.

Tim didn’t know if he was reading the English or Italian parts of the menu but it didn’t matter. Being fluent in reading an Earth language was another check mark for this being his place of origin.

“Can i…” Tim hummed, keeping in mind that he was speaking with royalty and act a little less like Bruce interrogating a suspect. “Can i ask a couple questions?”

Danny looked up at him, Tim only barely able to make out some of his features passed the unnatural shadows his hood provided. “Sure.”

Tim smiled, not even bothering with the menu since he knew what he was getting. “You’re the King of a realm, but was Earth your place of origin?”

“Yes, but not this Earth.”

Dimensions! Tim filed that away for later. “You can travel to any of them?”

“Within reason. Yes. I’m old, but not that old yet. Only eight or nine decades.” He tore another small piece of bread to eat. Tim assumed he was pacing himself. “They call me a baby Ancient still.”

“That’s cool…” Tim muttered. “Are there many other Earths?”

“The answer to that would never satisfy you.” Danny said softly. “Trust me. I am the Ancient of Space and i’m hardly satisfied with it.”

There was a new fact for Tim to latch on. “What’s the-” He stopped when the waitress appeared. Both of them ordered, and Tim was certain he’d end up ordering more halfway through the meal so Danny could take more home with him.

When the menus were taken and the waitress left again, Tim continued. “What’s the difference between being an Ancient of Space and being the Ghost King.”

“When i died, or half died, it was my fate to one day become the Ancient of Space. I am that regardless. I won the title of Ghost King.”

Tim dragged a hand down his face. “That’s…. Endlessly fascinating. I have so many questions.” He didn’t even know how to touch ‘half died’ yet.

Danny hummed once and fiddled with the end of his braid. “Do i get to ask questions too?”

“Of course.”

Danny leaned forward, sipping at his water again. “This Earth has super heroes. That’s interesting. Mine didn’t. How long have you been a hero?”

Tim nodded, figuring that would be the direction the questions would have wandered towards. They were far enough away from everyone in the restaurant that he didn’t worry about being heard. The music playing in the background also helped a great deal.

“Hero might be a debate depending on who you ask. In Gotham we’re considered vigilanties. I first suited up at thirteen but it was really more like fourteen after a great deal of training.”

Danny was quiet for a moment. “And how old are you now? I have trouble telling ages these days…”

“Eighteen.” Tim said.

“Young.” Danny muttered. “I was young too. Fourteen when i became the bridge. Sixteen before i really understood what it meant.”

“The bridge?”

“Balance. The living and the dead.”

Tim huffed softly. “You wear a lot of hats, don’t you?”

Danny made a quiet noise, and it took Tim a beat longer than normal to realize he was laughing. “I do, i wish i didn’t most of the time. It’s fine though.”

“Just fine?” Tim asked after a beat. He knew a little about expectations and high standards that could weigh you down–both his own standards and other peoples.

Danny nodded, one of his hands resting on the other. “I’ve seen things. Good things. Bad things. Things that will never happen. Things that have. It’s better i have certain powers because i have no desire to use them.”

Aah. Tim understood that. “People who want too much power are dangerous.”

“Exactly.”

“The power of ruling an entire realm…”

“Exactly.”

Tim heaved a sigh. “Damn.” Maybe he should ask something less intense. “Did you enjoy the food we gave you last time? It was just some fast food but there was some worry it wasn’t good enough.”

“It was great.” Danny said and he sounded sincere. “Nostalgic. It took me a few days to eat all of it. I know the Infinite Realm’s reputation, and it is a warranted reputation, but i’m… hard to offend. Little things are just little things.”

“I’ll put them at ease then.”

Danny was quiet for a moment, the silence not an oppressive one. “What is the difference between a hero and a vigilante?”

“How people perceive us, i guess. Superman will always be seen as a hero. Wholesome and valiant and all that. Things in Gotham are altogether… shadier. Being a vigilante isn’t exactly legal and while we have our boundaries, we break the law all the time.” Tim said. They covered their own tracks well but it was fortunate that no one looked too closely at their activities.

It didn’t bother Tim when he knew his reasons were still good.

Danny made a thoughtful kind of noise. “I’m willing to bet Superman’s business isn’t purely legal either. This seems like a nice Earth though, despite whatever troubles you have.”

“Some hero work is sanctioned by the government so it’s a fine line. Any of it could be argued.” Tim explained, and that was something Danny seemed to find fascinating.

They paused their conversation again when the waitress appeared with their food, and Tim put in a second order for them to take when they left. The eyes Tim could feel on him told him that Danny already knew what they were for.

He could hear Danny softly inhale and exhale as he looked at the plate in front of him that came accompanied with salad. He likely wouldn’t be able to eat even a fraction of it but the way he looked at it…. made Tim realize that he could see Danny’s face more clearly. The shadows that obscured his face from his hood had receded. He was still gaunt, but he eyed the food with so much joy.

The first bite of –non fast food– food nearly seemed to overwhelm him in a good way.

“You know,” Tim swung hard to change subjects. “We can do a bit of a food tour every time i summon you for lunch. Pizza. Chinese. Barbeque. There’s a great taco truck. We could get something homemade.”

“You cook?”

“Haa. No.” Tim said seriously. “But Al… my grandpa is an amazing cook and he seemed to think trading food for world saving services was very sensible but he was appalled that we offered you cheap fries and burgers. He’d honestly love to cook for you.”

Danny smiled, this shy little look that shouldn’t have fit someone with the title of Ghost King but it sure fit Danny. “That could be nice. Decent home cooked meals are kind of mythological to me.”

Tim nodded once, and knew better than to ask directly. “I didn’t have a very cuddly upbringing either. There was a lot of take-out involved.”

“Your food ever come back to life and try to eat you instead?” Danny asked and Tim just stared.

“I can’t…tell if that’s a real question or if you’re messing with me.”

Danny smiled and was that a hint of fangs? “Dead serious.”

Time groaned. “No, no you are a king. You are not making puns.”

“Thinking i’m too mature for puns is a grave mistake.” Danny said without hesitation.

“Noo.” Tim groaned, lips upturned into a smile. His brothers could never know about this. Dick would start a pun off and Jason’s morbid sense of humor about his own death…. Ugh, it would be bad.

It did bring up the interesting question of Danny’s age. He said he’d been alive for decades but how did he mature. Was he still a teenager? Did he age slowly? Asking not only sounded like a bad idea, but Raven and Zatanna had both made sure he knew it was a question to not ask.

They chatted, they ate, or well, Tim ate. Danny ate a bite every few minutes and looked thrilled about it but he was slowing down. Tim was looking forward to Danny being able to eat more with every visit.

He flagged down the waitress, gesturing for a box and got a thumbs up in return.

“You can take it with you.” Tim said when Danny was giving him a look. “It might be a couple days before i can call you again and this way you’ll have enough to eat every day.”

“I can’t deny that.” Danny said. “You don’t have to keep summoning me.”

“I promised you lunches.” Tim said firmly. “And you said it yourself, you should eat more and spend more time in a living realm. You may as well take advantage of being summoned for food.”

“Hm…” Danny played with the end of his braid again. “You do make a compelling argument. It’s nice to talk to someone without it being preceded by a brawl.”

Tim stared, “What?”

Danny just looked amused. “I’ll explain to you etiquette in the Infinite Realm sometime.”

“Yeah?”

The waitress returned with boxes for Danny to pack up his meal and the empty dishes were whisked away to make more room on the table while they waited for their to-go orders.

They were almost startled when a second waitress reappeared with a few little dishes before they could begin speaking again. Everything was set in the middle of the table, presumably for them to share. There was a piece of white peach tart, a bowl of strawberry gelato, and a slice of frozen chocolate chip meringata.

“Um…” Tim blinked. “We didn’t-”

The waitress chuckled. “It was ordered for you by another patron. Please enjoy.” She set down another set of utensils for them and walked away.

Danny made a small sound in his throat. “Well i was full but how could i say no to a couple more bites…”

“Wait.” Tim said, gaze subtly shifting around the room. Maybe he was trained to be paranoid, but it usually served him well. What he found almost instantly had his eye twitching.

Not even halfway across the room sat a poorly disgusted Dick wearing large sunglasses, a fedora, and the world's least convincing mustache. When he saw Tim looking and grinned and raised his own wine glass.

“I gotta kill my brother…”

Danny sputtered out a laugh, so genuinely amused that Tim could definitely see his fangs as he laughed.

“That would make him my problem.” Danny pointed out, reaching for a spoon to try the gelato first.

“I’m not seeing your point.” Tim said, delighted by Danny’s teasing. It was a rookie mistake to think one of his siblings wouldn’t find out about this. An absolute blunder that he hadn’t noticed Dick walking in after them at all. He’d never live it down.

“Guess i’ll have to be more careful next time.” He added.

Danny hummed again and seemed to have a fondness for the cold dessert. “I could always invite you to my realm sometime.”

“Cool.” Tim said instantly. Ha, let them try to follow him then…

#dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #dead tired #cameo appearance by Dick Grayson #This is a date

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slushycoookie · 3 months

Text

My Husband Has a Symbiote! Pt.1

Relationship: Symbiote! Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Content: Smut, definitely smut, p in v, oral sex, overstimulation, belly bulge, breeding kink in FULL display, fertility issues, Minors DNI!!

Summary: You find out Miguel has a symbiote for the most unexpected reason.

A/N: I kept thinking about Symbiote! Miguel and I just had to do it. If yall saw that recent concept art of him, he looks fucking huge. So as a birthday present to myself, I wrote this. Something to get us by while I continue writing the Valentine's Day one.

Miguel had a symbiote.

You knew the first day he got it. He was acting strange. More aggressive, energetic, and driven to his Spider Society cause. Also rough. You knew it when he pulled you in for a passionate goodbye kiss.

Plus, he was huge. You didn't think it was possible for your husband to get a bigger size in his suit. It oozed a foreign entity. He was rougher with his enemies. Causing them to be bruised and bloody at the end of the battle. Your Miguel showed some restraint. You weren't sure what this Miguel was.

Jess told you at the end of the day, confirming your suspicions. “He has a symbiote.”

“I figured…” You played with the necklace that had your wedding band between your fingers. “How did he get it?”

“No clue. One day, he was his grouchy self. Next day, he was extra grouchy.”

“What can we do? We have ways to get rid of it.”

Jess gave you a knowing look, “You know it's not easy with symbiotes. The wearer has to get rid of it on their own. Part of the-”

“Canon event. I know…” You sighed. You weren't going to get scared. Be afraid for your husband's life. You would take the knowledge you knew now in stride, even if that meant dealing with the fact that your partner had an alien on his body.

You didn't confront him about the symbiote. You saw no need to. Ben and Jess were informed. You wanted them to watch him so he wouldn't go too far. But you didn’t like how he was acting. He never took it out on you, but everyone else was a different story. It was hard for you to sleep, knowing your husband was in control of an alien.

One night, he came home late. You were still awake, watching his hulking form linger throughout the house. If you were normal, you'd be terrified.

“Miguel?” You called from the hallway. He turned towards you. His mask was still up. The eyes were sharp, filled with an unknown emotion you couldn't grasp.

“Our wife.” His voice was deep, rumbling to your core. Sharp teeth and a long tongue caught your eye. He inched to you like a predator. You backed up, mind playing out hundreds of backup plans you had once you found out about his new form. You jumped when hitting a wall. Cornered as Miguel hovered above you. His head trailed up and down in fascination. “So pretty. To eat.”

“I said we're not eating her.” Half of Miguel's face appeared, causing you to relax a little. He was still in there. To a certain extent.

“Not the type of eating we were talking about.” The symbiote sized you up even more. You didn't know how to take that. Miguel entirely took over, his face in view.

“I'm sorry. I'm still getting the hang of this.”

“Why did you do this?” You motioned to all of him, “For a man who doesn't play when it comes to canon events, you go ahead and play around with an alien.”

Miguel sucked his teeth, “I had a good reason, baby.” You blinked, waiting for him to come up with a good explanation. He shifted, his large form shaking the photos on the wall. You couldn't see any reason for him to form with a symbiote.

“I thought…it would help in our process of trying to have a baby.”

You froze. The extensive trials you and Miguel went through in trying for a baby were unsuccessful. He knew about your fertility issues. He knew before you got married. You didn’t expect him to go and fuse with a symbiote to boost the rate of being able to have a baby.

“The symbiote enhances my body.” Miguel explained, “Maybe we could try to use it to help us conceive.”

“Won’t the symbiotes…genes get in…?” You placed a hand on your stomach, not believing that you were considering it.

“No. It won’t affect any of our genes. It just increases the output.”

You scoffed, “So you would have super sperm?”

“In a way.” Miguel shrugged, hovering over you. You noticed how small you were compared to him. Your thighs squeezed together at the sight. “We should try it. See what happens.”

Common sense was starting to leave the window. Just having Miguel’s hulking frame above you, his eyes lowered in lust, was not helping. You were curious yourself. Would the symbiote help you finally be able to conceive? So your family can get bigger?

“You want me to have sex with the symbiote?”

Miguel chuckled, face down to your neck, taking in your delicate scent. “It’s still me. I promise.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders. His suit was sticky and you felt restraint when tried to remove your hands. You had no idea what you were doing. But it was your husband. You trusted him, knowing he wouldn’t harm you. So you had to take a leap. Literally. Miguel was so large you had to jump to even kiss him.

Your body flushed against his own as his tongue dove into your mouth. You were so caught up in kissing him, absorbed in how his hands groped and felt you, to realize you were in your bedroom.

You yelped when landing on the bed. Miguel's form hit the ceiling, standing at the edge. Waiting.

“Strip.” The voice was back again. Low, deep, and commanding. You blushed at how much that turned you on. Even with the monstrous teeth and all. You weren't wearing much besides a t-shirt and shorts, tossing them into darkness. Only remaining in your panties.

Miguel cupped himself, eyes trained on the prize between your legs. “All of it.”

You slid down your underwear at a slow pace. Even if you were about to get bred by a symbiote, you knew Miguel would still go crazy over your teasing. Pride swelled in your chest as his breathing became ragged. Every ounce of resistance he had in fucking you into the ground was waning. It wasn't until your panties were thrown aside that he pounced on you.

The bed creaked at the extra size. Miguel's symbiote used its long tongue over your neck, tasting the slight sweat. Your breasts, twirling at one nipple while his fingers pinched the other. Before going down to your stomach and over what he wanted most.

“We deserve to know how you taste…”

If you could squeeze your thighs together right now, you would. But your partner kept them separated. Spread wide enough for him to get a full view of your dripping sex. The tongue was back as it was his turn to tease you. Gliding along your inner thighs, not touching an inch of your cunt. You whined at how close he was. You tried to move your thighs to get him where you wanted but to no avail.

“Please…” You swallowed, heaving at the lack of touch. “Don’t tease…”

A guttural growl resonated in the room, which made you quiver even more. “You're so pretty when you beg.”

His tongue was heaven. Taking turns licking at your sensitive bud, thrusting in and out of your hole. Slurping sounds letting you know how much he loved tasting your cunt. You weren't sure if digging your hands into his covered head was a good idea so your hands fisted the pillows. Head back and unable to control your sounds of pleasure.

“Miguel…oh my…” You felt that familiar sensation rise in your stomach. Not stopping as he continued to please you. And you accepted it, climaxing for him. This was different from your normal Miguel. While he did make you see stars, this one was determined to make you see God. The way he didn’t stop after you came for him, eating your pussy like a starved man. When you tried to have the strength to pull away, his hand placed flat on your stomach. Overstimulation crept in as you shook under his hold. Thank goodness he pulled away, showing you his mouth glistening in the moonlight.

“We need you. Now.”

Your eyes widened when seeing his cock on full display. Miguel was big. Very big. Cock enlarged, veiny, pre cum beading around the tip. He was going to kill you if he put that thing inside.

“Where?” You gulped, pushing back your rising fear.

Miguel sat back against the headboard and settled you into his lap. Your back lay against his chest, staring at the gigantic cock. He grabbed a hold of your thighs, lifting and spreading you as wide as he could. You bit your lip as his dick slid against your sex, coating himself in your arousal. You couldn't do much in this position. Besides lie back and take it.

You shook as he entered you. Arms around his neck and digging into them as you sank down. Your mouth gaped, but nothing came out.

“Come on.” Miguel pushed, his own voice coming out a little tense. “You can take more…”

You clawed at his neck, sinking down further. It was to the point where there was a slight bulge in your belly. Which has never happened before. Once he bottomed out, he gave you time to adjust. You knew Miguel was being gentle, his arm muscles tense as he didn’t want to hurt you. You nodded when you were ready and he took control. He slid you all the way up, only leaving the tip of his cock inside before thrusting up into you.

He was massive. Easily filling you up while he pumped inside. Tears brimmed in your eyes. There was no coherent thought in your mind. With each intoxicating thrust, you couldn’t think. All you wanted was for him to keep going. To use you like this as long as he wanted.

Your eyes rolled back when his cock hit a perfect spot. Not feeling any of your lower body. “M-Mig…”

“We have you. Pretty little thing…” His face snuggled against your head, still maintaining the hard and sharp thrusts. Miguel’s suit made a tendril, slithering over to you to give more attention to your aching clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation. The familiar burning of your release was quickly rising again into something more. You struggled in Miguel’s hold, wanting to move away and escape your impending doom.

“Don’t…You’re gonna make me…” You whined, frantic breaths escaping.

“We want you to do it.”

There was no room for negotiation. Between the exhilarating way his cock stretched you and the advance on your clit, you were going to explode. You cried for your husband while soaking his cock with your fluids. Tightening around him for his seed. Aching to have him breed you. Miguel’s grunts turned into growls. Grating noises that shook the entire room. His thrusts were rough as now he was chasing his original goal. To pump his cum into you.

You didn’t move, watching your husband desperately paint you inside. There were one, two, three more thrusts before he let out a roar. His seed filled you up perfectly. It was so much that it was leaking out, even as Miguel tried to thrust more in. You didn't know what else to do if you didn’t get pregnant by this.

Once Miguel had his fill, he slipped out, placing you to the side. His face was back as he peppered your own with soft kisses.

“You okay?” You hummed, your throat a little sore. He held you close in a protective way, not wanting to let go for a moment. “Hopefully this works.”

“If it doesn’t…” You struggled to say with your raspy voice, “you’re getting rid of that thing.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara x reader #slushycoookie writes

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cassie48 · 3 months

Text

∙ 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘺 ∙

(Eventual)Dark!Paul Atreides x fem pregnant reader

• Pt 1 •

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

You and Paul grew up together on Caladan. You were born on the same day, on the same hour. Paul’s mother lady Jessica had always seen you as a daughter and for some unknown reason, insisted that you and her son always stay together.

When you and Paul grew to become teenagers, feelings became involved, and a powerful love blossomed. When the two of you heard you had to leave for Arrakis, you were both petrified. But you knew everything would be ok, as long as you stayed together.

When the two of you arrived to the planet, the local fremen called Paul the “Lisan al-Gaib” and you the “malaka”. Neither of you knew what that meant. So, walking hand in hand, you glanced at each other, both your faces full of confusion and curiosity.

When you were told that the names meant 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 and 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯, both of you were confused.

The night before the imperial Sardaukar troops invaded Arrakis, you found out you were pregnant. It was a complete shock and you and Paul were barely 20. You told Paul as soon as you found out. He comforted you, saying the baby was a blessing, and you two would get through it together.

When the troops came in, all hell broke lose. Thankfully you made it out with Paul, and met lady Jessica before running for the hills. Your hand went to your belly, complete fear consuming you. You three managed to get a plane and fly out.

After surviving a storm, and a long, dangerous journey, the three of you ended up in Fremen territory. You met Chani, who was sceptical of your boyfriend, but seemed to like you.

One man was not happy with your arrival and even challenged Jessica. Paul fought for her, killing the man, after a long brutal fight.

As soon as he had done it, he walked straight up to you, he looked full of power and confidence.

“It’s ok my love” he had told you as he hugged you close to him, his hand eventually resting on you belly. Jessica had told you she was pregnant as well, which eased up your nerves, knowing you two would get through it together.

After a good few weeks with the Fremen, Paul learned the ways of the Fremen being taught by stilgar , you tried to do what you could , which was little as you were now coming up to almost 4 months pregnant.

It all changed when Paul rode his first sand worm, you stood with the Fremen watching along with them as you saw Paul do nearly the impossible, smiling at him

All the Fremen beside you stared yelling out 𝗟𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗹-𝗚𝗮𝗶𝗯, some walking up to you before kneeling, and taking your hand yelling out 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗸𝗮, praising you

You were confused and scared, and just wanted your boyfriend to hold you. More and more people came up to you grabbing your hand, until suddenly you began to cry. You don’t really know why, but your emotions had been all over the place with your pregnancy.

As soon as Stilgar saw you crying he yelled out at the Fremen, asking them 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘩? 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘺!

Immediately they stopped, backing away with whispered apologies to you. When you told Paul later he was outraged.

“Do they think they can grab you like that? You are pregnant they could have hurt you or the baby!” He yelled out, pure rage in his voice.

“It’s ok Paul real-“ you started

“No. It’s not, you were crying, Chani told me. This has to stop” is all he said before pulling you into a hug, you resting your head on his shoulder, his head resting on your own.

Jessica had told you she thinks your baby’s is a boy, you believe her, as she is now the reverend mother. She had really changed, it scared you.

The Fremen and Paul continued fighting against the Sardauker troops, most were very successful. Sadly they blew up the temple, where many had been inside and where they prayed and laid their loved ones to rest.

Paul had been called down to speak with the leaders in the south of Arrakis, he took Stilgars place as he had been injured from the attack.

When you two arrived, Paul told you to go to sleep for a while, you were now seven months pregnant and your body was becoming tired more often.

After about two hours Jessica came up, yelling for you, saying Paul was in trouble. You jumped out of bed and waddled down to him as fast as you possibly could.

She told you he had drank worm blood, to gain an understanding of the prophecy and his future. She told you only your years would bring him back to life. Of course, you had already been crying, so it wasn’t so hard.

Paul gasped and sat up, coming back to reality, he glared seeing all the people surrounding them. He turned to look at you, smiling as he did, cupping your cheeks. You leant into his touch, throwing yourself into his embrace, letting many tear’s escape.

Stilgar yelled out “As it was written!” In pure shock.

“Paul why’d you do it!” You yelled, while crying into his shoulder.

“It’s ok. I understand now. This baby, it’s a miracle, 𝗛𝗲 shall rule after me” he said smiling while looking at you adoringly.

“What? I-I don’t understand! Rule?” You said still crying from the events.

“Trust me. You are the Malaka. You, are the most important woman on the planet right now. This pregnancy, it’s in the prophecy, 𝗬𝗼𝘂 were in the prophecy my love” he said properly sitting up.

“W-What?” You whispered still confused.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about any of this, you trust me don’t you” He said leaning in closer to you.

You nodded, leaning your body into his, your crying and worrying making you tired.

“Good.” Is all he said leaning into you and kissing you passionately, forgetting you two had a whole audience.

“Oh em well everybody give Lisan al-Gaib and the Malaka privacy” stilgar ordered as the Fremen left yelling out messiah words in their language.

You and Paul continued making out for around five minutes before he noticed how tired you were.

“Come my love” he said as he picked you up, holding you tightly in his arms. You leaned your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes, feeling completely safe in his embrace.

“No one will harm you, my love” he whispered as you drifted off to sleep.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

There will be a pt2!!

#paul atreides #dune part two #dune 2 #timothée chalamet #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x reader yandere #zendaya #chani kynes #austin butler #dune movie #2024 #fanfiction #florence pugh #prophecy #yandere #smut #timothee chalamet x reader

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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

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I had a silly idea, what about an Cheshire Cat!reader x Alastor? (Feel free not to do this dearie ( ·∀·) )

Haha. OMFG. A Cheshire Cat would really match with Alastor well! So, thank you, Lady Beelzebub! I’ll try this out!

Alastor- A Little Game

Vaggie has been so frustrated. Charlie has been trying to ease the crew. Husk is on the verge of murdering somebody. Niffty is annoyed that her cleaning equipment is gone. Angel is quite amused by what’s going on and Alastor is very invested in the cause

Lately, the Hazbin Hotel has been dealing with a suddenly appearing invisible menace causing pranks after pranks nonstop; locking or trapping up doors, stealing items and storing them high up, whispering out in the halls at night

Alastor didn’t suspect he’d ever run into the culprit of all this trouble but he has. After Charlie had been giving Vaggie a calmdown pep talk, the Princess politely asked Alastor to check around the hallways for any more prank remnants, the Overlord did so, just to see what he may find… and he made a incredible discovery

A floating cat-like sinner with magenta and pink colouring, most importantly, a big Cheshire wide grin. A rival of Alastor’s own smile and with almost half a body, as if cut in half

The sinner was in the midst of setting up a trap consisting a big silver bucket full of thick blood over the top of Alastor’s own hotel room door, but they’ve been caught in the act

And Alastor doesn’t plan on dealing out punishment… he’s too amused

“Ah… you must be the little troublesome beast causing so much disrupt in this Hotel?” Alastor asks almost immediately with literally no malice towards what’s been going on, his transatlantic accent smooth and almost making his voice sound more friendly and warm than he actually is as this cat sinner… or otherwise, you

Just giggles under your breath and disappears into thin air properly with the wide grin floating in the air for a few seconds almost magically before dissipating with you

“And if I have?” Your voice rings out after a few more seconds of silence, disembodied, invisible. You can’t be tracked with eyes but Alastor’s powerful magic can pinpoint where you are by detecting your own demonic magic, sharply looking over his shoulder to be greeted with your floating head

Just your head… no body, it’s like before when it was half of your torso. Now, it’s just your head. Your magic is a lot like the storybook fairytale character, Cheshire Cat

But that’s because you’re the most Cheshire Cat person anybody will ever met. Alastor couldn’t help but be so amused by you; you’re skilled, you’re snarky, you know what you’re doing and you’re resourceful, good at planning

Able to have avoided being caught by everybody in the Hotel for months now and you’re lucky enough to have been caught by the one member who enjoyed the chaos and madness the pranks caused

“I believe you must avoid the others if so” Alastor proclaims, almost mysterious and still silky in that radio-laced but classy and dapper tone as you tilt your head confused. For the first time, you’ve been snapped out of your mischievous chaotic demeanour

You suspected him to bark, to growl, to be annoyed so him not is so odd to you but quickly brushing it off, you manifest your whole body into frame. Cute fluffy striped cat-like ears flicking and long fluffy cat-like tail curling around, almost like a coil spring

You couldn’t really understand this Overlord, something you don’t like. You’d prefer people to be confused by you, by your style of insanity and madness, by your enjoyment of causing so much disorder and high-tension emotions

You were about to speak, basically floating over his shoulder before Alastor beats you to the punch. You can’t tell if you’ll like him or despise him with the way he speaks, almost condescending

“If you’re going to make my project topsy-turvy, I suggest do a better prank”

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risestarkiss · 5 months

Text

Being Big Red

Rise Ramblings #312

In “What Was Meant To Be” and “What They Became,” I discuss how the turtles were created by Draxum to be weapons and then how the boys were embraced by Splinter to be a part of the Hamato clan.

I also discussed how Splinter viewed television as a window into his former life. He used television as a means to drown himself in a never-ending cycle of reminiscing the past and mourning his former self.

Splinter’s crushing depression, though never voiced, impacted the turtles’ emotional growth and development. As a result, all four brothers had to cope with their father’s lack of attention and his expectations for their lives in their own way…

However, I believe that no one had more pressure placed on them than Raphael Hamato.

Raphael is naturally easy-going, sweet, fun-loving, and supportive. But, as the oldest/biggest turtle, he became the impromptu leader of their little team by default. Consequently, he takes on several different roles for the sake and well-being of his family.

Their day-to-day training regimen is directed completely by him.

He is the boys' moral compass and who they go to for guidance.

He's the team’s backbone, support, and backup, which often cumulates in him acting as a physical shield when things get rough.

And, most significantly, Raph is the leader even when he himself wants nothing more than to crumble to pieces.

Raph is so physically imposing, strong-willed, and devastatingly kind-hearted that it’s easy to expect these roles from him.

But, Raph is also just a child.

In reality, these roles should never have been Raph’s to bear…

Parentification is a process in which a child or adolescent is forced to act as a parent to their siblings (or to their actual parent) through providing emotional support (Emotional Parentification) or physical support (Instrumental Parentification) in order to maintain the household.

I believe that Raphael was subjected to both, but was especially subjected to the former.

All of the roles described above are the roles of a supportive parent to their children (or Sensei to their students.) To verify this claim, you needn’t look further than the roles that Splinter encompassed in any other iteration.

With Raph, none of this responsibility comes naturally. He has to work hard to live up to the pressures and expectations placed onto him, resulting in a dissonance between his responsibilities and his true nature.

I believe that you can see the evidence of this dissonance in his chosen form of dress.

Have you noticed that when Raph casually dresses himself, he mostly wears white?

Even Donnie picked up on this trend when he chose outfits for his brother in "The Clothes Don't Make The Turtle." (See "The Fashionista" for a full breakdown on Donnie's impeccable fashion sense.✨)

Yet, when Raphael is filling a role, or dressing to impress others, Red is his automatic go-to.

It’s almost as if the title of “The Red One” was not one that he chose, but one that was merely placed onto him.

But I digress...

Raph is able to be a pseudo-parent to his brothers and serves to fill in the gaps that their actual father could not fill. However, with no outlet for his own insecurities, all of that pressure had no relief.

And, if you understand chemistry, pressure, with no release, creates an explosion.

“Acting out” is an unhealthy defense mechanism in which one expresses their unacceptable feelings through physical actions.

In this case, the "unacceptable feeling" is disappointment, not at his brothers, or with his father, or with any external force, but with himself. And with no outlet and with no one to turn to for support, that disappointment turns into red hot anger.

He’s so disappointed with himself, in fact, that he reaches his breaking point.

Then finally, finally, he opens up.

And at long last, he gets the support he so desperately needed.

Thus, he is able to ultimately let it all go...

It's so lovely to see that his family does not disappoint.

○○○○

Next | Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two • Orange, Baby!

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

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anantaru · 4 months

Note

how about face sitting with childe? :)) <3 ly

cw. face sitting, body worship, fem! reader

childe likes it when you ride his face in a way where it's making him viciously hump the air, eyebrows knitted together in focus as he began to fantasize on how soft and warm you'd feel wrapped around his cock.

"’m losing my mind," the harbinger confesses bluntly, squeezing your ass to rub you over his tongue harder, "s-so fucking good," his voice full on locked behind a daze as your connection deepened.

a combination between a gasp and a moan exits his throat when he slowly flutters his eyes open to watch your pretty tits wait for him to rub and caress them— which, he will get to that, but right now, ajax wafts his palms from your hips to your stomach before drifting back to your behind, framing your curves and stroking the most tender places on your frame.

your body was his favorite, to touch and melt his hands into your skin was simply to die for and you always felt the presence of his eyes on you, especially when ajax waited for your figure to react to his lips suckling on your pussy.

when the harbinger touches you, pleases and kisses you, he acts as though you're royalty and so was your body to him, the most beautiful art in the world, leaving him in a suspended moment of serendipity when you feel him on you.

with the air thick of tension, he dips his tongue into your hole and you whimper out his sweet name— his real one which only a handful of people were allowed to use. with no punches pulled, childe has to admit that it sounded a whole lot better when you called him ajax, better yet sob it out in such pity, broken state that it ignites a spark on his cock.

the fierce stimulation that pierced through your body was being tremendous and all you felt was bliss. the insides of your thighs had been covered in a mixture of slick and spit that with each grind down on his mouth, you'd filthily smear it across childe's cheeks and chin and pave the way for his tongue to brush inside your walls.

your voice tinged with emotion when you mewl at him, the way he pivoted the tip of his tongue into your hole before rolling it back as to repeatedly fuck the pink muscle in and out of you was nothing of off short pleasure.

or how about the spots he glissaded his tongue over? oh yeah, they drove you crazy, childe drove you absolutely insane.

there was nothing else he loves to do more than pleasure you.

just the rough moan he mumbled into your pussy shot a myriad of intense bolts between your sweaty bodies— when he laps around your cunt with such seriousness that it made you overheat from head to toe, boil over and turn on autopilot.

it was enough for childe to continue this all night long.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe smut #childe x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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annabelle--cane · 5 months

Text

this is a difficult thing to have conversations about because it provokes really strong reactions in people for completely valid and understandable reasons, so please feel free to hit da bricks on this post whenever you want, but I do want to try and analyse the jonmartin slaps. we get three across 160, 169, and 172, and a line addressing it in 173, and then it never happens or comes up again. none of them come out of nowhere, and they mostly fly under the radar until 173 because they all broadly fit the "slapping someone out of a trance in an emergency" trope, but each of them slowly decreases in urgency.

the first time, the apocalypse starts up and martin comes back to find a passed out jon, can't wake him by making noise, and strikes him in a panic. this makes sense, this is a man who has entered a supernatural coma before and martin had no idea what was going on, so of course he'd jump to something desperate.

the second time, they're in a burning building, jude arrives while jon is still mid-statement, and when making noise doesn't work martin slaps him out of it. this makes sense, they were there for jude and if jon didn't come back to himself then she likely would have hurt them, though martin knew that her powers against them were limited.

the third time, jon is getting pulled into into a repeating statement instead of coming out on his own like usual, so martin speaks once or twice to try and get his attention, and then slaps him out of it. this... again, it makes sense, jon was getting trapped, but there was no immediate peril like before, martin just got freaked out and wanted to leave quickly. he seems to get that it was harsh because he apologizes for it, but they don't linger at all, martin just starts in on them having to leave immediately.

the last time it's mentioned is when they're on night street, during what is one of their most intense arguments. jon tries to talk about the suffering of the children there for longer than he needs to in order to make a point, martin cuts him off, and he pointedly says, "thank you for not hitting me this time." it never happens or is brought up again.

to our knowledge, jon doesn't say anything about the slapping until 173. he's not a guy who's known for speaking up when things upset him, he was amiably working with daisy within about a week of her trying to kill him, so it makes sense that he would just sit with this comparatively more minor thing. however, I do think it's relevant to note that, at this point in their relationship, martin will sometimes voice his feelings and boundaries (not listening to statements, not consenting to mind reading, worrying when jon expresses discomfort with his body), while jon doesn't. from the couple of times he does talk about his feelings this season, I think that tendency comes a few places: he has a hard time being aware of his emotions at all, he doesn't know how to evaluate his emotions' importance in comparison to others', he assumes his emotions are obvious and thus people already act with full knowledge of them, and the topic is just hard to make himself talk about. from what he says in 173, I think the slaps bothered him the entire time, but he made himself be fine with it until he was upset with martin for unrelated reasons and finally let it out.

as for martin's side, I do not think the slaps came from any kind of suppressed desire to hurt or wield power over jon. we've seen him when he's angry at jon, this isn't how he acts, he gets shouty and indignant but never violent. I'd even go as far as to say he doesn't do it in 173 because he's genuinely upset at jon and the situation they're in, and it would never occur to him to deliberately inflict pain on someone he cares about to assert control over them. the connecting line between all of them is fear from something that he wants jon to help him handle. the apocalypse starts, he is stuck inside one of his worst nightmares, and he's paranoid that the web took control of him. he's someone who is "always following, never leading" (170), and he gets tunnel vision when something scares him and his "leader" isn't there.

jon did need to be pulled out of all three of those situations, and words proved insufficient, and maybe a quick jolt of pain was the only thing that could have worked, but martin doesn't seem to consider what that would feel like from jon's pov. in my experience of relationships, if there's ever an unavoidable emergency where you do actually need to cross a line that you never would otherwise, you talk about it afterwards. you do a debrief where you say "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't see another way, I'll try and be better prepared next time." they do this for problems they have later on (177, 198), but martin doesn't do that here. jon's point-of-view just doesn't seem to occur to him. when jon expresses discomfort, he drops the tactic without a word; later, when he needs to anchor jon in the panopticon, he talks him through it before it can get too far. so, it's not about a lack of care for jon's feelings.

I think it comes down to a few things: a) his occasional tendency to treat people as a means to an ends and not think about their perspective. he's so glued to putting others first most of the time that when he stops, he can't find a middle ground and forgets that other people can have feelings about his actions. b) his problems with conceiving of himself as a person of any importance who is capable of doing anything, especially of doing harm. as a concept, "hurting jon" is the thing he would least like to do in the whole world, it is his nightmare scenario and literally the culminating moment of his tragedy. he finds it almost unthinkable, so the idea that he does it casually when he's scared doesn't cross his mind. one of his central worries at this point is that jon is now so powerful that he no longer needs martin, how could he hurt someone like that? he's not anywhere near a comparable level of importance, it's not like he has his own domain that he's not aware of because jon told him about it and he immediately rejected the information. he's powerless and could never bring himself to hurt the man he loves.

I just. think it's an interesting microcosm of some of the lows of their relationship. once the problem is discovered martin instantly takes the note and doesn't put it on jon to explain himself further or assuage his guilt, they are willing and able to adapt, but it still comes from some of their bedrock flaws. martin doesn't understand that he can hurt people, and jon has such an inflated understanding of his capacity to hurt people that it sabotages his self-worth and his ability to respond to pain and displeasure.

#tma #marina marvels at life

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katebishopsbow · 7 months

Text

MISSING PIECE • F1 GRID

pairing: f1 grid x driver!reader (platonic)

summary: you have always taken pride in your ability to handle the press, until a journalist mentioned a sensitive topic that you had tried desperately to avoid – your estranged father. you struggled to give a response, and your fellow drivers showed no hesitation to jump in and defend you.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, daddy issues, mentions of abusive parent, found family

word count: 3k

(image is not mine)

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Formula 1 journalists have always been known to be brutal – asking questions that teetered on the brink of privacy violation and unnecessarily hostile probing with the excuse of “providing insightful coverage” on the highly competitive sport.

That was why media training existed – to prepare drivers for the harshest, most demanding questions thrown at them and rewire their brains such that instead of lashing out, they would be able to gracefully divert the focus to something else while also preserving their pristine image.

You had always excelled at handling the media, and your ability to constantly remain level-headed even when they asked the most ridiculous of questions was something you took pride in – until a journalist purposefully asked about a subject you had desperately tried to avoid ever since your F1 career started.

The relationship you and your father had was rather difficult to explain. The two of you became distant since the day your parents divorced and you decided to walk away from his constant emotional unavailability and manipulation he so skillfully disguised as paternal love. He didn’t bother asking you to stay – well, he never bothered doing anything when it came to you. He called occasionally, only when he needed something from you and your mother, and sent birthday cards out of obligation a month late because god forbid he remembered your birthday if your mother hadn’t reminded him.

Then the calls became less frequent, and then they stopped altogether, and his empty promises of visiting became blatant lies that you no longer believed in. Your father gradually turned into a stranger, a missing piece, a clouded memory left behind in the childhood days of your life.

It was a hard subject for you to talk about, something you would much rather keep away from the limelight and scrutiny of the world. Unfortunately for you, secrets weren’t really a thing in F1, and the obvious absence of one of your parents on the grid and in all your victory celebrations had been noticed by the public’s watchful eyes.

So your secret was no longer a secret. All the drivers on the grid were aware of it, and a few closest to you had known the full truth of your strained relationship with your father, but they all avoided mentioning it as they knew it was a family matter you wanted to remain private. Most journalists were also respectful enough to avoid asking insensitive questions when interviewing you, phrasing their words like “How will you celebrate the win with your family?” instead of using the term “parents”, and you were more than appreciative of that.

So when the voice of a certain reporter who was known to be ruthless with his questioning echoed through the press conference, directing the uncomfortable and out-of-the-blue question toward you, you suddenly found yourself at a loss for words.

“Rumors have been circulating the Internet recently about you and your father. There are accusations against you claiming that you were ‘selfish’ and ‘ungrateful’ for cutting off ties with your parent, that a callous and unforgiving person such as yourself does not deserve a seat or to be the inspiration for young minds. What are your comments on such claims, and have you ever experienced regret for turning your back on your family – your very own flesh and blood?”

The sudden silence in the room was suffocating, and the only sound you could hear was the heartbeat that was drumming loudly in your ears as the colour drained from your face. The discussion revolving around your relationship with your father wasn’t anything you were unfamiliar with, but to hear it being brought up so directly in front of the press and all your fellow drivers, and all the demeaning names that people had called you – it had felt so demoralizing.

What happened between you and your dad was entirely private, people outside of your family who had never gone through what you had experienced should never have the right to make comments on your decision to leave. They didn’t know what it was like to have a father who was never there, who constantly let you down with his lies and broken promises, who subjected all his volatile temper and toxic outbursts to his daughter and wife.

You had enough of his bullshit and were simply sick of pretending to be the perfect little family, so you left with your mother and told yourself that you would never look back. It would be a lie if you said that you didn’t miss the presence of your dad every now and then – the palpable emptiness he left behind had and would continue to haunt you – but you also never once regretted your decision.

“I – I don’t think… these accusations… umm –” The composure you had always displayed in front of the media was long gone, and you struggled to find the right words to say in response to such an uncomfortable question. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixated on you while that journalist watched you with an inspective expression on his face, just waiting for the moment when you break – wanting you to lose control so that he could have the reaction he needed to write his article.

And all of a sudden, you were back in your childhood home, standing in the living room with your head hung low, fighting back tears as your father unleashed his wrath at you over the smallest, most trivial things. “What’re you crying for, huh? You want me to give you something to cry about?” he would say to you, his voice harsh and venomous as he screamed out insults that scarred your fragile little heart.

Then you were back in your grade school classroom, standing in front of the whole class and staying completely silent after your teacher assigned you the speech topic “My dad is my hero”. Your classmates looked at you as if you had grown a second head, confused by the way you were struggling to speak about a topic they could so easily blabber on for hours. You just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything – your dad was never your hero, he was a distant stranger who struck fear within you whenever he was around.

Then you were back in the bedroom at your new home, reading the birthday card that your dad had sent to you a month late. Written in the top left corner of the page was a scribble of your name, completely misspelled. You closed the card with tears brimming in your eyes, knowing that your existence was slowly beginning to fade from your father’s memories. You tried to remember what his voice sounded like, his calloused hands, his boisterous laughter on the rare days when he wasn’t screaming profanities at you and your mother, and then you realized that he was beginning to fade from yours, and it had felt so, so painful.

Blinking away the hectic memories, you were quickly dragged back to the reality of the press conference. Everyone was still waiting for your response, and the reporter continued to wait for you to crumble under pressure, but all you wanted to do was to run out of the room and hide from people’s blazing eyes, to not have the world criticize you on how you dealt with your family trauma.

“I think that is an absolutely unprofessional question to ask if I am being honest.” Max’s stern voice finally broke the silence, and you were still attempting to process the situation when he continued to chastise the overstepping journalist with an irritated scowl, “The focus of the press conference is to discuss the races and the drivers’ performances on the track, not to delve into people’s personal matter and bring up their family situations which clearly do not have any relevance to the sport.”

The Dutch driver had always been brutally honest, never afraid to speak his mind and call out the press for their bullshit, and this was no exception. Having a complicated relationship with his father himself, he knew the hardships of being in your situation and struggling with toxic family dynamics, and he experienced first-hand how the media loved exploiting such issues for the sake of a story. More importantly, you were his friend, and he would do anything to defend you.

You exchanged thankful glances with the driver next to you, feeling the warmth that blossomed over your heart when Max placed his hand over your trembling ones beneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze in a way that meant “Don’t worry. I got your back”.

Upon hearing what Max had to say, the reporter was quick to defend himself. “I was merely hoping to get some insights on whether or not the recent rumors had affected her performance on the track. That’s all,” he attempted to reason, trying to rationalize his intrusive question but was interrupted by another driver who frankly also had enough.

“I think everybody in this room is well aware that is not your intention,” Charles spoke up from his seat, staring at the lying journalist with a tight-lipped smile that was far from friendly. Being one of your closest friends on the grid, Charles was also no stranger to your father’s abusive tendencies and knew how tough it was for you to open up to him about such horrible memories. To see the press tried to take advantage of your vulnerability and blatantly lie about their ill intention sickened him, and he was not going to just sit and watch it happen.

The McLaren driver sitting beside him nodded as he let out a light chuckle, “Yeah I mean – I’m literally an idiot at reading the room but even I can tell that getting racing insights was not your only intention, mate.” The audacity some of these journalists and reporters had was astounding, thinking they could get away with asking disrespectful questions just because of their job titles. When it came to snapping back at their baleful antics, Lando did it once on camera with his iconic “Who are you?” and he would certainly do it again.

Carlos couldn’t help but smirk at Lando's cleverness – masking his reproval at the journalist with a self-deprecating joke. When his attention landed on the audience seated before him, he allowed himself to enjoy the caught-off-guard look on the journalist's now reddened face. “Serves him right for asking stupid questions,” Carlos muttered in a hushed voice just loud enough for himself to hear before turning his head to catch your eyes, shooting you a quick smile as a sign of support. You returned the kind gesture, thankful that your friends were standing by your side when you needed help.

As the journalist busied himself with trying to recollect his composure, an awkward silence hung upon the room once again. That was when Daniel perked up from his seat, the usual cheerful smile on his face as he proceeded to do what he did best – easing the tense atmosphere and diffusing the tension with a touch of humour. “Well, I can totally affirm that Lando can be an idiot sometimes,” he joked while grinning mischievously at the papaya driver, and the mood in the room visibly lightened as a few reporters laughed at his playful words.

“But on a more serious note though, I do believe it’s important to remember that drivers are also human beings, and we all have our own struggles and difficulties both on and off track. It’s crucial to respect drivers’ boundaries and not exploit their personal struggles, and our sole focus should always be on the sport and racing,” Daniel voiced out respectfully, emphasizing the one thing that people always seemed to forget – that drivers deserved privacy and owed nobody any explanations on their personal lives, even if they lived under the spotlight.

Oscar and Pierre who were seated at the further end of the table also nodded at Daniel’s resonating words, expressing their agreement on the importance of maintaining a respectful and uplifting environment for all drivers. “What are your thoughts, y/n?” A female reporter in the crowd raised the question, subtly giving you an encouraging smile as she steered the attention back to you, offering you the chance to speak your truth and address the situation directly.

The fear and dread within you slowly dissipated, replacing them was the heartwarming gratitude at your fellow drivers who showed no hesitation in defending you in the face of intrusive questioning. It was then that you realized you were never alone in this journey, that the other drivers on the grid were not only your competitors but your family who understood what you had gone through and would unconditionally have your back.

It was their reassuring glances, their wholehearted support, and their willingness to stand up for you that enveloped you with the strength and courage needed to finally speak up for yourself. “I would like to start off by thanking all the drivers here with me, and thank you to the journalist for that rather personal question,” you spoke clearly at your microphone, your voice emboldened by the newly found determination as you watched the journalist shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“While I do appreciate the public’s concern regarding my family issues, I would prefer to keep my personal life private. The decision to distance myself from my father to prioritize my well-being and emotional health is not something I regret doing, and it is not fair for people outside my family who don’t understand the complexities of our relationship to make assumptions on the matter.”

Taking a deep breath to gather your thoughts, you made the closing remarks to your statement, “Which is why I kindly ask for your understanding and space moving forward, to respect the privacy of not only me but everybody on the grid and allow us to deal with our personal matter privately, and ultimately create a respectful community within Formula 1.”

You looked around the room when you had finally finished speaking, meeting the eyes of your fellow drivers and the rows of reporters sitting before you. Your hands were still shaking from the nerves that pulsated through you, but a firm squeeze of Max’s hand pulled you back to the present before you could begin spiraling. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said with a gentle smile.

The media training sessions had come in handy once again, and you managed to address the situation in a graceful manner without revealing more details than you were comfortable sharing while also highlighting the importance of personal boundaries in the world of motorsports. “Thank you, y/n,” the previous female reporter nodded at you with a proud smile, glad that you put those unprofessional reporters who had no sense of boundaries back in their place.

Among the sea of cameras and eager reporters who could so easily expose the vulnerabilities of the drivers with a simple flick of their pens, some suddenly found themselves becoming the subject of such exposure, called out for their prying questions and insatiable need to twist people’s words for a click-worthy story.

It was evident that what you and the other drivers said had struck something within them as they silently began reflecting on their roles and responsibilities as reporters, and perhaps remembering the reason why they had chosen journalism in the first place – to report the factual truth to the public, or to fabricate things in exchange for views and attention?

The press conference proceeded to continue, but the shift in the atmosphere was apparent when journalists asked their questions with more sensitivity and introspection, mentioning topics that genuinely mattered instead of blindly chasing exclusive headlines. When the conference finally ended, you and all the drivers collectively exuded a breath of relief, feeling a weight being lifted off your shoulders now that the far-from-enjoyable media day was over.

As you exited the room and were away from the cameras and people, you turned around and gave your friends an appreciative smile. “Thank you all… for standing up for me.” You must have sounded like you were close to tears because Daniel began cooing at you teasingly as if he were comforting a crying child, “Aww… don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

Charles leaned forward to ruffle your hair almost like what an older brother would, and he said to you tenderly, “We’re a team, and we’ll always have your back.” You were not going to cry initially, but now you weren’t so sure. At that moment, you had felt so loved, so supported, and it made you want to hide under the covers and bawl your eyes out from the rush of emotions that crashed over you.

Your friends, understanding the depths of your emotions, gathered around to offer you their words of encouragement and gentle pats on your back. “I love you guys, really…” you whispered quietly, looking at them with such sincerity and gratitude. How lucky were you to be able to have these people as your competitors, your friends, your found family?

“Who wants to go and eat because I’m actually starving,” Lando exclaimed as he began walking in the direction of the restaurants, and a few of the drivers tailed behind him as they joined in on the rant about how hungry they were. You watched them with an overwhelming sense of fondness, and when Max reached out his hand for you to take, you gladly accepted it.

Listening to the light-hearted banter and laughs that filled the air with your best friend right next to you, you knew that this was exactly where you belonged. Not in the tiny living room with your father screaming at you, not in the classroom with the kids who didn’t understand what you had been through, not in the bedroom where you cried over your fading memories with your father, but right here – with your favourite people who would always be there to fight your battles with you.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #f1 drivers x reader

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tiannasfanfic · 6 months

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Not the Wavemother

Astarion x Reader (Fluff)

| Astarion Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: Astarion notices your discomfort while you’re trying on your new clothing.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader/Tav, they/them pronouns (if any). Spawn!Astarion x Reader/Tav. No class or race for Reader is mentioned in story. No physical description of Reader either, just a general description of how the dress fits. Mild hurt/comfort for Reader with fluffy ending.

CW: Uncomfortable clothes; uncomfortable attention from said clothes; mild innuendo at the end.

Word Count: 9,87

It had taken some convincing, but after a little bit of badgering, everyone finally talked you into trying on the outfit the Wavemother had given you.

You had been very hesitant, took your time changing and only came out after some encouragement from Karlach and Shadowheart.

Everyone fell silent though when you stepped out of your tent.

You looked breathtaking.

The dress was cut within an inch of your life, the fabric hugging close to your body like a second skin. The stooped neckline was exceptionally low, sitting just below your navel, while the slits up both sides of the skirt came just below your hips, showing a considerable amount of skin.

Had Astarion’s heart still beat, he was quite sure it would’ve stopped right then.

Even though he had seen you fully naked, he couldn’t help but stare as you slowly twirled around, letting everyone see the dress on you from all angles. A warm, tingling feeling spread through his abdomen and his stomach felt like it was full of butterflies. It unsettled him at first until he realized what it was.

Desire.

It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to yet. While it wasn’t entirely unwelcome with you, it still felt odd to want someone in a physical manner. Before you, he couldn’t remember the last time he was with someone to fulfill his own needs, much less with someone he desired.

But after staring at you for a while, he noticed something was off.

You weren’t holding yourself like you normally would. While you were standing tall and proud, your shoulders were stiff, your posture just slightly hunched. You took everyone’s compliments and comments graciously, a polite smile on your face that was devoid of most emotion.

Suddenly, it dawned on him what it was he was seeing and the warm tingle in his stomach was replaced with a cold knot.

You were severely uncomfortable.

While you were no stranger to tight clothing and even occasionally showed some skin around camp on the warm nights, your normal choices didn’t garner much, if any, attention. Now everyone was looking at you appraisingly and showering you with praise, even Mizora.

And, with each compliment, your expression withdrew a little bit more.

By the time you turned to Astarion, your face was still a polite mask, but the glint you normally had in your eyes wasn’t there.

“You’re bring quiet, Astarion,” you stated, your voice politely neutral. “What do you think?”

It took him one second to decide how best to proceed.

He took a step back and took a long look at you, but it was a thoughtful gaze, as if you were a complicated trap he was about to disarm rather than someone intensely attractive to him.

“Honestly, it doesn’t look very functional to me,” he finally stated, a critical tone to his voice as he pried his gaze up from the dress to your eyes. “It is very cute, but one arrow and you’re done for, darling.”

Astarion’s words had an immediate effect. The stiffness in your posture eased some and your face slightly relaxed.

“Ah, c’mon, Astarion! That’s all you’re going to say?” Karlach said, then she clapped you on the back. “Tav is smokin’ hot right now!”

There was a slight wrinkle in your forehead, so slight anyone would’ve missed it had they not been paying close attention.

Fortunately for Astarion, he was, and already knew how to proceed.

“They are very hot, yes, but I’d much prefer them alive,” he stated, then met your gaze again. “Now, darling, why don’t you go get yourself changed before you catch a cold.”

Everyone booed at him as you hurried back into your tent, Halsin even called him a party pooper, but he didn’t care. He had caught a glimpse of the relief on your face just before you turned to go and that was all that mattered to him.

After changing back into your camp clothes, you were back to your normal self, rejoining everyone at the campfire in a pleasant mood. You took your normal place next to Astarion and slipped his arm around your back. You leaned into his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

Now that the dress was put away, everyone seemed to forget about it and began settling into their nightly routines, leaving you two to watch the fire.

You both were quiet for a while, just watching the flames and enjoying each other’s company, but after a few minutes, you broke the silence.

“I just realized something,” you said.

“Hmm?” he hummed. “And what would that be, darling?”

“You never said what you thought of the dress,” you said, then tilted your head to look up at him. “And you were staring pretty hard, too.”

Astarion looked down at you and carefully studied your expression, looking for any signs of discomfort about the topic. When he didn’t see any on your face, only a little bit of anticipation at his response, he knew you were okay with him speaking freely.

“You looked absolutely stunning, my love,” he said, softly kissing you on the forehead before dropping his voice to a soft murmur only you could hear. “In fact, one day when we have more private accommodations, I certainly wouldn’t mind if you ever wanted to wear it again just for me.”

You blinked up at him in surprise, your cheeks heating up in a blush at his implication. While you were far from a blushing virgin, it wasn’t hard for him to make you a bit flustered.

“Oh really?” you said, then smiled playfully up at him after he nodded. “In that case, I could possibly be persuaded to wear it again.”

He smiled gleefully and kissed you on the forehead again, which elicited a soft giggle from you, before resting his cheek on the top of your head as he returned his gaze back to the fire.

#astarion #astarion fluff #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion imagine #astarion oneshot #astarion blurb #astarion drabble #astarion romance #astarion angst #astarion acunin #spawn!astarion #bg3 fanfiction

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fairy-hub · 6 months

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𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, period cramps, suguru takes a bath with you, they all refuse to let you walk, pouty reader with Kento because I for one am emotional over tiny things during that time and kento being sweet with me would be everything, making s’mores with Satoru, full of kisses adoration and cuddles, for when you need cuddles and a bath, nap and cuddles or chocolate and cuddles

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: Hi! May I request Suguru with a fem aligned reader (if u do write that but if not, gn is also ok!) who is on their monthly cycle? cramps r hell rn and I need some comfort.

Oreo: Hope this helps 🫶🏽 sorry I couldn't get this out sooner, I wanted to do more characters because I've been in the mood for some comfort too

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Slowly peeling the covers back, gently lifting you off the bed, cradling you to his chest. “Poor Princess, I hate seeing you like this.” You grimace, furrowing your brows. “Sorry my love for moving you.” Covering your cheek in soft kisses.

He doesn't stop until you’re smiling from the sweet attack. “Got our bath ready, the warmth and water should help ease the flow.” Getting lost in his captivating tender warm chocolate eyes.

“Our bath?”

The softness of his voice soothing. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't hold you when you’re cramping? I was thinking I would wash us off afterward, carry you back to bed.” Kissing his hard pec, resting your head against his warm chest, closing your eyes.

You’ve never had someone talk to you with such gentle kindness, look at you with such adoring love or tenderly touch you until Suguru. “You’re better than I deserve.”

“You deserve only the best, and I'm going to give it to you.” Carefully sitting you down on a towel covering the counter protecting you from the cold. Holding your arms up for Suguru to slip the baggy shirt off.

Lifting you off the counter, steadying you on your feet. “You are the best.”

“That’s why I’m your’s.” Pushing your underwear down, for you to step out of. Kissing above your pubic line, gently rubbing in soft circles where you’re cramping the most. After a year of living together he knows your body well.

Using paper tissues to toss your pad in the trash. Lifting you off your feet, cradling you lowering you into the warm, bubble bath. It's the perfect temperature, the water lapping at the back of your neck easing some of your head’s tension.

The bubbles reaching above your head, you have to make a small space otherwise be consumed whole. “You look beautiful and cozy.” Letting out a gentle sigh, the warmth and muscular relaxer soothing your aches.

“This is wonderful, thank you darling.” Suguru slips his sweats down, folding them up to set on the counter. Leaning forward he whips his feet off in the mat, stepping in behind. Carefully sitting down, pulling you into his lap.

Closing your eyes resting your head listening to the music. His chest rumbles when he sings, “Whatever words I say I will always love you, I will always love you, whenever I'm alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again.” Kissing the top of your head.

“Your voice sounds like heaven. I want to record you singing, I can listen to it to fall asleep when you’re working late.” Looking up at Suguru’s face, he smiling down at you.

The soft curve of his lips, the love in his eyes, this is what it’s like to be treasured by someone. “Which songs do you want me to sing for you my love?”

𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨

Resting on his chest, eyes closed listening to Kento’s comforting voice reading. “Traveling down the thin winding path, not yet reclaimed by the forest’s growth. Breaking into a small clearing, displaying a partly dilapidated house. Part of the original brick structure standing tall still.” He pauses to flip the page, looking down at you.

Smiling at how you’d fallen asleep on his chest. Grabbing the long thin bookmark you gotten him. Slipping it between the pages, closing the book, setting it aside.

Checking the heating pad, gently making sure it's in place. Carefully lifting the blanket over you, covering you up to your neck. Slipping his glasses off, laying his head down on the pillow behind him. Closing his eyes and enjoying the peace of the moment.

Your cramps had been persisting all morning, at last you were comfortable enough to fall asleep. He loves your soft warm body resting in top of his. The safety in knowing you’re protected, happy and at peace.

The sun has set by the time Kento wakes up. “My love?” Kissing the top of your head. Massaging your stomach and sides. “Wake up I need to get dinner started, I'll get you cozy in the bed with the heading pad.” He peels the blanket back, grabbing the now cold heading pad setting it aside.

Shifting on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kento carefully fixes the blanket on yo. Wrapping his arm around you, slowly standing up. “What are you craving?”

Pouting whining in frustration, “I dunno! I'm hungry but I don't know what I want. I don't want you to leave me alone.” Cupping the back of your head, swiping his thumb in small circles. His gentle touch soothing your emotional turmoil.

“Take out it is you can look at what you want and take your time there’s no rush. I'll carrying you to and from the door to get the food.” Nudging the bedroom door open with his foot. He knows the bedroom by memory.

Carrying you with one arm, pulling the covers back, laying you down then flicks on the lamp. “We need to make sure we get you something yummy.” Kento kisses your forehead. “Lemme get your heating pad and my phone.”

Kento isn't gone long coming back into the room. He’s beautiful with his blond hair falling across his thin framed glasses. You like them more than his green and silver ones that hide the beautiful dark coffee brown shade of his warm, gentle, tired eyes.

Slipping into underneath the covers, holding his arms out for you to climb slowly onto his lap. Resting your chest on his chest craving the skin to skin.

Placing the heating pad on your stomach, grabbing the near by covers and covering you both. “Comfortiable beautiful?”

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You have a wonderful view of Satoru in a tight black shirt splitting open firewood with a wooden axe. You’d insisted a cabin in the woods because you pouted about being around other people was a bit extreme. Now that you’re here with no one else but Satoru for miles around it’s peaceful and necessary.

The view of his arms flexing when bringing the axe through the wood catching your attention. Almost distracting you from the monthly fit your body is throwing from not getting knocked up by Satoru.

Loading the logs into the pit. He points his fingers at it, looks up at the window and smiles. Could he really spark the firepit without destroying the ground around it?

You eyes widen. There’s a flash of light and boom fire errupts from the pit. Arching towards the sky, settling down, gradually getting lower as it consumes the wooden logs.

Blowing off the his finger gun proud of himself. Then vanishing out of site as he comes into the cabin. Slipping back outside covering the bench in several blankets and the throw pillows from the sofa. The bringing out a plate with a roasting stick.

Dipping back into the house Satoru bursts into the bedroom, grinning widely. “It’s s’mores time! Cuddles, a crackling fire underneath the stars your wonderful boyfriend feeding you chocolate you might be cramping but that has to help a little right?

“Can’t think anything sweeter, other than getting some kisses from my Sugarbear.” Satoru climbs onto the bed, hovering over you carefully not to let his weight crush you. Softly kissing your nose, cheeks, forehead and lips. You can feel his smile in the gentle curve of his lips.

Wrapping your legs around him, parting your lips for his tongue. You crave Satoru’s slow, sweet romantic kisses more than air. Slipping your fingers through his short undercut into his fluffy hair.

Squeezing your sides lifting you off the bed. Refusing to break away, he’s lost in your soft lips whimpering into the kiss. Carrying you through the door, slowly sliding his hand up and down your back, cupping your ass.

Pulling away you need to breathe, resting your head on his chest. Shivering from the cool fall air, nuzzling your head into Satoru’s neck, kissing him gently.

“Your kisses are sweeter than any treat I could buy.” Satoru sits down with you straddling his lap. Picking up the roasting fork, its tip having been resting on a plate next to some marshmallow, a chocolate bar and some Graham crackers.

“Cheesy!” Leaning back enough to admire Satoru’s handsome face. Kissing his cheek.

He passes the roasting stick to his other hand. Squeezing your between his arms when he sticks a fluffy marshmellow onto it’s tip. “It’s true! The way you kiss me is so sweet and loving, it makes my heart beat faster every time. I can't stop kissing you, it's getting worse. Everytime I see you I want to cover you in kisses, hold you close and never let you go!”

Oreo creampie m.list

3K notes · View notes

adaelines · 1 year

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Home And More

hiii my back is killing me but horny for simon NEVER stops!!! afab but gender neutral reader, consentual somnophilia, simon eats u out whilst u sleep bc he wants u that bad, simon cums in his pants from eating u out

Ghost was always there for you.

He lived up to his namesake in that regard, always spotted in the corner of your eyesite, most of the time gone by the time moved to greet him, or ask what he was up to during some rather strange times you caught him watching.

He protected you, kept an eye on you best he could, wanted to keep you safe.

He knew you didn't need it, knew as a fellow member of 141 that you could easily protect yourself, he trusted you more than he trusted himself sometimes, but you two were close. Not in the same way the rest of 141 was, despite how strong your relationship was with them, it was different with Ghost. It was more.

Whilst neither of you outright defined your relationship, never had the time to go on proper dates or spend as much time together as you wanted, it was obvious to everyone, including yourselves, that you loved each other more than life itself. The situations you both often found yourselves in caused your relationship to blossom much quicker than would be considered usual, but nothing about your relationship was usual.

Long nights of watch often lead to keeping each other company as you cleaned your weapons, sitting together in a comfortable silence and just existing together. To him, it was the little things about you that he craved, the happiness in stolen moments together, even in the worst of situations. It was comfortable with you, even after days of fighting, after having to shield every emotion behind getting the job done efficiently, prioritising anything but yourselves.

It was these times spent together that led to Simon longing for you when apart, the silence away from you almost unbearable. It was the same as it always was, even when you were there the silence was the same, but to him it was a stark difference. Your missing presence was notable, it left him on edge and more snappy than his normal, usually friendly jabs. Fingers twitching often like he wanted to hold something, wanted to reach out and grab.

It was this pining, the want in his chest that lasted the entire mission, that led him to your room, quickened steps uncaring of the time of night, of the fact anyone of sound might would be asleep right now. Not Simon, however, not when he spent the last weeks aching to touch you, the time alone on watch usually spent by your side instead spent humping his fist, nothing being enough without your touch, your voice right beside his ear.

The way he slammed your door open he was surprised you didn't wake up immediately, the desperation causing him to use a little too much force, if the walls weren't as sturdy as they were, he was sure the door handle would have left a sizable indent in the wall behind. He just couldn't help himself, not when you were finally in his reach, finally before him, finally able to feel you again, properly.

The scent of you, your room full of everything you, was enough to make Simon shiver, hands almost shaking as he removed the blanket from your sleeping form and grabbed your hips, dropping to his knees and pulling you towards him. He knew you were okay with this, heard your voice telling him to just take you whenever, you really wouldn't mind, not when it's him, not when you've missed him just as much as he's missed you. Any touch from him is a blessing, waking up to him is an honour.

He made quick work of your shorts, your underwear alongside them, almost groaning when he could finally see all of you, finally see the hole he'd been desperate to fuck the entire time he was away from you. His hand never compared to being buried deep inside of you, how tight you were, how you would whine his name and beg for more. Shoving the mask off of his face, the balaclava up above his nose, he spread you apart with his thumbs and let a low hum at the sight, how absolutely delicious you looked.

He missed this. Missed seeing so needy for him, even unconsciously, he loved knowing that you needed him as much as he felt like he needed you.

It was easy for him to lean down, press a soft kiss against your clit, before absolutely devouring you.

It was your own loud, depraved whine that woke you up, your thighs tensing around Simon's head and hand immediately going to push him away.

"Don't," Simon all but growled at your attempt, flattening his tongue to lick from hole to clit. His voice was so deep, so gravelly, you couldn't help the whine that escaped.

You went slack against the bed, the hand in the top of his mask only tightening, no longer pushing him away but pulling him against you, thighs tense on either side of his head.

"Sweet thing," Simon's voice was low, a quiet whimper. "Sorry for wakin' you, just needed your cunt too badly."

"It's- okay!" Your voice was all whines at this point, high pitched and needy. Even when trying to reassure him, he didn't pause for even a minute. Even when you were trying to tell him you didn't mind, that he could spit in your mouth and use you so that he gets off, you wouldn't care at all, so long as he feels good.

Sleep still clouded your mind, still covered your thoughts in a blanket of grogginess, but the pleasure Simon gave you was red-hot, almost blinding. It was hard to even think when he was this close, this determined to bring you to the peak of your pleasure over and over, as much as his energy drained body would allow.

"Simon," You whined, and you could feel him grin against you, could feel the low groan he let out at you simply moaning his name at his actions. He really was pent up, if just your voice and taste was getting to him that much, and he thanked whatever God was out there that you were too tired to focus on anything, you weren't able to see how he was humping the air.

"S'okay, love, just stay still, yeah?" Voice slightly muffled, unable to pull away even to respond. "I'll take good care of you…"

He touched you, ate you, like a man starved. And he was. He missed your taste so much, missed feeling you tremble on his tongue. He would happily spend hours between your thighs, devouring you whole.

"Needy cunt just wanted attention, who am I to deny my sweet little thing?"

Suckling your clit into his mouth, it wasn't hard for him to move his fingers to your hole, for him to press inside, very little resistance as a result of his tongue and how much your pussy was practically drooling against him.

Your hands were tight in his hair, the balaclava pushed off due to your grip, your desperation to touch him, your Simon, not any mask or material.

"S'too much, please-!"

"You can take it," He muttered against you, eyes lidded and watching, tone almost stern. "You're always so good for me, always so sweet… you can take anything I give you, pretty thing."

His lips and tongue on your clit, fingers pressed deep inside, the fact he was finally here, in your bed like you dreamed of him being, was all so overwhelming. It didn't take long for you to reach your peak, not when you've been waiting for this since the moment he left, been waiting for his touch since the last time you felt it.

The hands in his hair tightened, your voice raising an octave as you moaned his name, and if Simon wasn't as strong as you knew he was, you would be worried at how tightly your thighs were around his head. You knew he didn't care, knew he welcomed anything that meant you were as close as possible, loved when rode his face and used him for your own pleasure, as you were doing now, bucking against him and holding him close.

The groan he let's out is low, needy, and if you weren't as overwhelmed as you were, completely out of it with white hot pleasure, you would have teased him for how much it sounded like a whine.

It quickly became too much, hand still holding his hair tight moving to push him away, move him away from your incredibly sensitive cunt.

The grin he gave you was devilish, devious as he moved up from his knees to kiss you, to press his lips against yours and consume you whole, based on how desperate he seemed.

"Simon," You muttered into the kiss, breathing slowly and heavily. You had missed him so much, missed feeling him against you, it was such a blessing to have him back.

"Gimme a minute," Your voice was low as you pulled away, moving to instead trail kisses down his cheek, his jaw. "You can do whatever you want to me."

"No need," he spoke quietly, slowly, like he was ashamed. You would be worried if it wasn't for the flush on his cheeks, the way he narrowly avoided your eyes and refused to look at you. "I'm uh... I'm good."

Simon, the insatiable man that he was, refusing something like this? You moved one hand to hold his jaw, pulling back with narrowed eyes. He still refused to look at you, and when he moved his hips away, you realised what happened.

Simon came in his pants from eating you out.

The grin that spread across your face was quick, bright, and it only made the flush on his face worse.

"Simon!" You whispered, grin bright and tone full of fake shock, "Really?"

"Don't," He groaned against you, hiding his face in your shoulders. "Seriously. Don't you dare. Fuckin' embarrassing."

You quickly moved to press another kiss on his lips, full of love and utter adoration. You knew what he was like, knew how easily he could turn against himself, feel bad about the smallest of things that didn't truly matter. It was easy for him to put walls back up, to pull away and retreat back into himself, and you wouldn't let that happen.

"You're so fucking hot," You muttered into the kiss, gently biting into his lower lip. "Jesus, Simon, really? God, I can't believe you're this hot,"

The low noise he let into the kiss made everything worth it. The time away, the time spent missing him, it didn't matter when he was here, finally.

Simon was home, back with you, where he belonged.

#simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #modern warfare smut #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2

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obliviouscxnt · 4 months

Text

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him.

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss.

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted.

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare.

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he?

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live.

You were there for him, with him.

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily.

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again.

When it was necessary.

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers.

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal.

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made.

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return.

How had he ever thought your absence poetic?

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day.

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything.

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you.

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you.

It didn’t.

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention.

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him.

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren.

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here… go listen to them… keep me hidden…

He never smiled at you.

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant.

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life.

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow.

That should be enough for you.

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered.

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you.

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything.

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left.

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still.

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself.

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you.

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance?

He’d never even asked you for a name.

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day?

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about.

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence.

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came.

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy.

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it.

“I forgive you.”

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.”

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.” He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty.

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone.

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.

You kissed him.

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste.

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss.

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you.

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory.

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint.

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face.

The sight was divine.

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy.

Happy to be his shadow.

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#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x shadow!reader #azriel fanfic

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