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batfleshh · 3 months

Note

I am currently sucking and fucking bull hybrid ghost. i love you

Bigger

BullHybrid!Ghost X M!Reader

Warnings: I just wanted to use this ask to get it out of my inbox w this fic so ignore that, FIRST TIME WRITING H!CHAR so ignore if it’s like bad, HE BIG, IM SO SORRY I HAVE LOST SO MUCH MOTIVATION GUYS pls don’t let this flop or i will SOB, anyway warnings for breeding, possessive Ghost, and rough sex :3, belly bulge yayayaya, back with the milk (it’s his cum), talks of getting u pregnant (he won’t the thought is just hot), this starts off quick, not proofread

★ Bull!Ghost who’s heavily set on keep your near him, always being two steps behind you when you’re around base. He can’t help it, his own instincts making him watch you like a hawk. That being said, this fucker is always seeking for an opportunity to be inside you. On a mission? Let him slide it in while you’re out hiding. On base? Go find a closet and let him bend you over a few boxes. He’ll find an opportunity eventually.

★ Bull!Ghost who will hold you down, force your face into a mattress and shove his cock into you, making you feel like you’re being split in half. You’ll hear him huff and grunt behind you, the stretch of his bigger than average cock making you lose your mind. He’ll probably never admit it, though he makes it kind of obvious, he loves watching you fall apart, your desperate noises making him just want to keep you that way forever, but he does have eventually end up being softer on you, taking care of you after treating you that way.

★ Bull!Ghost with larger EVERYTHING, his figure much more toned and built than what he would normally look like. He likes to hold you in his arms, the way you fit there making him want to keep you there. It doesn’t matter how tall or short you are really, he’ll make you fit in his arms any way, he could fit a lot of things actually. Sometimes you’ll be surprised at how large he is, forgetting what you had been through the last time. It always ends up with you asking him to slow his role, asking for him to ease up. But he doesn’t, why would he need to?

★

“Simon, God, p- please!”, you plead with him, the rough rocking of his hips making you see stars. You watch his tagged and scarred ears twitch on his head, his nose scrunched with how concentrated he seemed to be. He ends up trying to quiet you down, his hand moving to cover your mouth. Your back arches up off the bed, the feeling of his cock hitting that spot inside of you making you want to take him in way more than you physically can.

He watches as your hand moves to grab at his wrist, drool seeping out onto his palm. The feeling doesn’t make him pull away, despite how gross the action seemed to be. He just waits to pull his hand away, wiping it on the bed. He doesn’t say anything to you, grabbing one of your hands and moving it down, placing it on the spot where you can feel his dick inside of you. He chuckles at how you whimper at the feeling, almost mind blown.

He watches his dick go in and out of you, his tail swishing back and forth. He leans down as he picks up his speed, moving close to your ear.

“Gonna fuck a calf into you, handsome. Would love to breed such a pretty boy,” he groans, feeling himself reach closer to the edge with every thrust. You make more pathetic noises, the very thought in the moment making you push your hips back into his. Ghost groans as he releases inside of you, the whines coming from you making him push his hips firmly against yours, holding them in place as he hushes you gently. You get a few deep breaths in and out before you feel him start to move again, a whine being drawn out from you. You look up at him with glossy eyes, his hand traveling up to cradle the side of your head. You feel his previous orgasm leak out of you as his cock starts to plunge into you, each thrust faster than the last. So much for getting a break.

★ ~

I got bored and lazy. This is short MB YALL but like hey im back

#bat bite #male reader #x male reader #gay #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x male reader #mwah #simon ghost riley #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #hybrid character #bull hybrid ghost #bull hybrid #please don’t flop #🪽 ! bat fic

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domreader-headcannon-scenarios · 8 months

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Inspiration for muzzled Sebbie?

It's spring, so heat and mating time!

Sebastian gets touchy feely and keeps trying to give you hickies and smooches to try and release his feelings as well as get you aroused (even doe he knows you have important work to do...)

He won't come and ask for help when you're free. It's always. When. You're. Working.

So what do we do to bad demons that can't learn to be patient or properly communicate their needs? We muzzle them. (Desensitisation too if you're okay with that)

Leash him. Tie him to the table and have a bar (idk what it's called) separate his legs permanently so he can't try to rub himself out. The only way he can get pleasure is try to hump your foot till he admits he's been bad, apologises and asks for help directly

Oooh!! This is so good!! (A spreader bar I think is what you’re talking about? It forces a subs legs apart and keeps them like that)

(ALSO I CANT BELIVE I HAVEBT DONE FOR DESENSITIZATION??)

Sebastian (demon forms, teasing, nuzzling, basically underlining pet play, ed:ging, slight pact play, ruined org*sm (once), )

Spring caused a lot of things to bloom, and you don’t mind when it comes the only thing you get annoyed by is your butler getting into his yearly heats. He couldn’t wait till you finish any work before he’s getting handsy, practically inhaling your scent as he whines about how badly he needs you.

You’ve spoiled him in the past really, you indulged him preavously during his heats and now he things you’ll drop everything you’re doing to stroke/blow him whenever he’s aroused. (Which is basically 24/7 with this horny demon’s heats) He oversteps boundaries, nipping and biting at any exposed skin he can get close to, leaving a ton of sharp, clearly in human bites around your wrist, neck and shoulders.

You had to wear scarfs when it’s 70 degrees out! It was so frustrating so you had to get a few ‘gifts’ to remind your dumb mutt his place. A pretty black muzzle, it would fit him perfectly and a bright pink collar and a matching leash! Even a little name tag for him (along with a phone number to call) to wear.

Before you were even in your house, Sebastian was on you, shoving you against the door, pressing his body right against you and leaning down to kiss you. You bring your free hand up to push him away, he quickly nips your hand and holds it firmly in a painfully sharp grip between his teeth.

You hiss in pain. “Let go.” You say firmly, you get a playful growl in response but he doesn’t let go until you make it an order. You glare at him as you bring the bag up to his eye level. He huffs and looks you over, seemingly not interested in the bags contents as he reaches to fondle your chest.

You grab the leash first, showing it to him. The clink of the tags and the leash get his attention and he stares at it for a second and shakes his head. “No, M-Master just, a hand?” He guides your free hand between his legs and you have to force his pact to stop him. You drag him in the house.

You snap the collar on and give the leash a firm yank, Sebastian in turn bows his head as he lets you pull him along. He whines as you drag him him to your kitchen. You notice the heavy boxes stacked on the table and without missing a beat, you tied Sebastian’s leash tightly. He looked at you like a kicked puppy, lightly tugging at the leash, the table moving as you step away. “Stop.” Your order forces him to freeze.

“M-Master, I cant r-reach you?” He ask in a confused tone. He tries to resist the pressure by rubbing his thighs together to stimulate his aching cock. You had just the item for this! You ordered him to strip (much to his delight) and grab a spreader and once he had kicked off his pants and undergarments, you spread his legs and lock it in place.

Unsurprisingly he was hard, making a mess. With a hushed tone, you speak clearly and slowly. “Don’t. Move. The. Table. That’s an order.” Sebastian groans and presses as far as he can without moving the table, when he reaches for you, you step just out of his range. A whimper escapes him, he claws the ground in frustration and uncomfortably sits on his heels, legs still forced apart. His cock bobbed and given how swollen it was and it was already dripping, you imagine how much it must ache when he can smell that this is arousing you as well.

Not to mention his heat, you can tell all he want is to just buck into you until he’s seeing stars, but now you won’t even let him touch you. “M-Master? I need you…why aren’t you…” He trailed off with a whine glancing between his cock and then to you. “Please?” He whines out.

His cock gives a few hopeful bobs before you step forward. You press a leg between his legs, watching him quickly buck up against your leg. You pull back before he even gets to touch you, earning a growl. “Bad boy!” You step out of his range right before he can grab you. To his embarrassment, his cock was drooling in anticipation, a small puddle of pre pooling between his legs.

“You cant take what you want. You are my dog. You only get what i give you, and you obey me. Be good, I’ll reward you, as your first punishment…” A grin spread across your face as you grab the last item in the bag. You are quick to put it in Sebastian, startling him enough that he didn’t struggle, seemingly not sure how to respond.

Once it clicked in place he seemed to snap out of his trance and you step back. To your amusement he shook his head first, but the muzzle didn’t come off, without being able to see the clasp, he cant easily get it off. He reaches up and feels the contraption on his face.

“Master…you’ve….m-muzzled me? I cant… bite you. I-I cant kiss-“ You force his head up to face you. Before you can speak, he pulls you down, nuzzling into your neck, you can feel his tongue drag over the bars to try and taste you. You growl at him.

“I order you to let go right now and sit like a good dog.” He releases you instantly and sits on his haunches. You step to the other half of the room before you release the order. He huffs and before he can do anything you add. “You are not to touch yourself, you are not to grab me, or touch me without permission.”

A whine escapes him as he listens to you. “And,” You add with a glare. “You need to learn self control…” You step forward, taking his cock into one hand, teasingly rubbing the head of it. You could see his entire body jolt as the pleasure shot through him. He bucks up instantly, but your hand lets go of his cock as soon as he moved.

“W-why..?” Sebastian whimpers out as his cock painful bobs in excitement. “I’ll be good, w-what am I supposed to do?”

You hum and reach down but stop short of his cock. “Don’t buck up when I touch you, if you want something, just tell me. I am sick of you bothering me at work, so today I’m training you.” Sebastian gave you a shocked look, a tremble goes through him at the authoritative tone you use on him.

“M-my heat! I-I can’t train l-like this! This is cruel!” He whines like you caught him stealing a cookie, not him dry humping you while you work. You lean down enough to be eye level with him.

“Higher stakes.” You half joke as your hand goes to his chest instead of cock, teasing his man hood with your other hand, avoiding the tip as you barely rub it between your fingers, intentionally putting too much pressure. “I don’t mind if you ask for it. Politely. But instead you bite me, leaving marks like a dog, so I’ll treat you appropriately. You can use your words when you’re ready to tell me what you want.”

You release his cock once more to his dismay. “You’re heat is going to make this more…intense for you. You only act up when you’re in heat too, so if I can get my dog to keep his bone tucked away whenever he smells his bitch, only then will I let him finish.” You glare at him and disgruntled whine in return.

“I’m not a dog-“ He tries to rub against anything, but in this position his cock can’t reach the floor without you noticing. His ‘bone’ throbbed in a attempt to get your attention, the tip bright red, looking like you had been torturing it…

He pauses, seeing you look down upon him, he can feel the power of your pact keeping him from releasing the agonizing tension between his legs…as much as he wants to fight…he just whimpers in response, tongue lulling out as he pants. “Please, my cock, touch me!” He sits up, almost like he’s presenting his cock to you.

You reach forward, lightly touching it, working it until you wrap a hand around it, you could feel it pulsing in your hand, but you didn’t move…you held his manhood their as he trembled, the pact preventing him from grabbing your hand, leaving it hovering above your hand. He growls in frustration, his teeth clear even with the muzzle, you let go of him and jump back just before there’s a change the in atmosphere.

His wings are out, trembling as his scarlet orbs desperately eye you. You watch him claw at the ground as he bears his teeth in frustration. “B-but I asked!” You nod, but don’t respond right away. “Master, it hurts! Please!” His wings flap desperately, leaving feathers to scatter.

When he sees the scowl on your face he freezes, and to your amusement, he bucks under your gaze and you hear the distinct sound of his cock smacking against his stomach. You let out a short laugh, watching his face turn red as he takes in the situation.

“Puppy,” You wait till he acknowledges you to continue. “You told me to touch you, so I did, you didn’t ask for me to help you, just for a touch.” Sebastian freezes and lets out a drawn out sight.

“Stroke m-my cock! I need you pleaseplease-“ He cries out as you tighten your hold of his throbbing shaft. You stroke him at a leisurely pace, watching the way his hips tremble as he tries to stay still. You barely have a grip on him, you don’t even move all the way to the tip with each stroke! “Please, please! Squeeze my cock! Stroke f-faster, p-please!”

His tone hurried, the ache between his legs worsening with each stroke. You know what he wants, but you’re dragging it out to drive a point home. You do show mercy this time though, hand speeding up and tightening more than he liked. Sebastian moans out a couple “Thank you!”s before he’s trembling.

“Close?” Sebastian nods, his man hood giving a heavy throb before you stopped and let go of him once more. Sebastian cries out, he couldn’t buck fast enough, he’s left trembling as you let him ruin his orgasm. You hear him near wheezing as he pulls on the collar, harder than he should, the table jerks forward and you see him try to get up to stop the boxes from falling, but the spreader causes him to lose his balance and practically bow in front of you. He glanced back to see a few of the boxes on the ledge, if he pulls again…you will definitely punish him if any of those fall…

When he turns back to you, he can see you’re think the same thing, he moves back to give his leash slack before putting his arms behind his back. His cock hung between his legs, still fully erect. “Master, I n-need you to stroke my cock. Please, let me cum! I want to feel good!”

You praise him and lean down, he meets you half way but with the muzzle, he cant kiss you. He let out a defeated whimper. “Muzzle off…please?” You eye him carefully.

“If you bite me once, I’ll leave you like this till tomorrow.” Sebastian whimpers but nods. To his confusion, you don’t touch him or take the muzzle off. Instead you shove your leg between his. You stand up straight and grin. “Hump my leg like a good dog, you can cum as much as you want on one condition.” Sebastian gives you his full attention, his manhood throbbing hard against your calf. “Admit you were a bad boy. Apologize.”

He whimpers and quickly caves. “I’m s-sorry, I’ve been bad, I need to cum please…” He’s bucking against your leg, you show him mercy and bounce your leg with every few thrust. You can feel that he’s close and you let him cum on your shoe, he collapses against you, too tired to support his own weight.

You step aside and he falls forward, dragging the table forwards, making the boxes fall with a loud thud….

Sebastian whimpers in response, he submissively bowed and apologized again with a tremble in his voice. “I-I’m s-sorry! I’m-I didn’t mean to…” You ruffle his hair but don’t punish him over it. Besides you can see his cock starting to come back to life, he’s gonna have to be good if he wants to finish again!

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mrghostrat · 3 months

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dude. that reverse bnf fic sounds SO fucking good… the ideas u have cooking up in there… i’m excited just thinking abt it ASKFNKF

YAAAS THANK YOU

i had more thoughts today... thinkin of the ask i got about the "i'll always know the stain was there" scene and how i've never written that before. which. ofc. turned into more ace porn.

Aziraphale spills wine on himself at Crowley’s place. He’s resigned to throw the shirt away. Crowley, Mr minimalist clean freak, rolls his eyes and takes charge of cleaning it off. Aziraphale hesitates then takes his undershirt off too, and Crowley bluescreens. Aziraphale half-asks him, “I’d hate for it to be stained too. It might be an undershirt, but I’d always know the stain was there.” Crowley takes it as well, leaving Aziraphale shirtless in his house.

While they sit around and he scrubs on his homemade stain remover, Aziraphale sits a little shyly, clearly affected. His nipples are hard. Crowley gathers the courage to ask him if it turns him on. “What, you cleaning??” “No. Being exposed like that. The air on your skin.” Aziraphale hesitates because he thinks Crowley is calling him out on some kind of abnormal kink or fetish, so he deflects, “Is that some ace thing as well?” not expecting Crowley to say yes. Crowley sits next to him.

“For me anyway. It’s not the person who turns me on, it’s the touch. So, sometimes, that touch comes from unexpected places. Cold tile on my skin after a shower. Satin sheets.” Aziraphale noticeably shivers.

“S’why I like, personally… Being teased. Light touches; Chasing after it. That anticipation adds to the sensation.” He grazes a hand over Aziraphale’s bare arm and Aziraphale gasps. Crowley laughs at him.

“Ffs. No wonder you struggle getting off if you’re watching the same porn everyone else does. Probably Google Imaging boring old pin ups of girls in fancy bras—“ Aziraphale gives him a LOOK, so Crowley adjusts, “—Or, Boys in skimpy briefs. What good’s that going to do if you can’t imagine how they’d touch you?”

Aziraphale is momentarily perplexed. “You know, I can’t think the last time anyone assumed me anything other than flamingly gay,” but it somehow doesn’t feel avoidant of the topic, he’s just so caught off guard by it.

Crowley’s suddenly a little annoyed, mostly at The World, but a little bit creeps in towards Aziraphale. “Assuming doesn’t help anyone. It only gets people confused about the boxes they’re meant to fit into. Bloody useless things, boxers. Er, boxes.”

His fingers have been dragging idly up and down Aziraphale’s thigh the whole conversation.

He stops when he realises Aziraphale’s hands are strategically placed in his lap. Crowley stops. Apologises, didn’t realise what an effect he was having, he just wanted to make a point—

But Aziraphale hasn’t felt like this in such a long time. He’s worked himself off, but nothing’s compared to this feeling of anticipation and bone deep arousal. He somehow finds the words to ask if Crowley would keep going. Show him what kind of touches he likes, maybe it would be informative. Crowley gets him off on the sofa, teasing and working him to a climax that has him death gripping Crowley’s arm and whimpering into his neck.

-------

Later, hours or days later, Aziraphale is watching Crowley move around the house, maybe in his pants or a towel or something, but being totally innocuous. As innocuous as Aziraphale’s voice when he pipes up, completely unprompted, “I don’t think I’m asexual, Crowley.”

“This again?” Crowley’s exasperation is fond.

“No. Sometimes the sight of you makes me want to… Pin you against a wall or something.”

Crowley freezes, a mental ngk that takes a few minutes to reboot him. He tries and fails to sound casual and unaffected when he says “Maybe you’re demi,” and keeps folding his laundry like Aziraphale hasn’t just shoved a hot poker into his brain.

“Mmm,” Aziraphale agrees, even though Crowley knows he doesn’t know what that means, but he’s too busy leching to follow up and ask.

#ask a rat #reverse bnf #bnf au #ratwips

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xjustakay · 11 months

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jegulus / 966 words / nsfw (sexual content)

a thing that got dumped in my notes app and has no official home, so here it is shoutout to @imdamagecontrol for encouraging me to post it after all<3

James’ breath stutters, catches in his throat. His eyes are more black than hazel where they grow wide; wild and yearning for the man hovering over him.

Regulus gets it. There are many instances that he feels like his blood only continues to thrum through his veins because his desire for James sets a fire in it. Hardly a day goes by where the festering want within him doesn’t pendulum between too much and never enough.

“I want to be inside of you.” Regulus breathes. It’s a wavering exhale, hot in the gap of only a couple inches between their faces. A confession on a sigh that should be a relief, but it still feels too heavy somehow.

He wants to be inside of James because he wants to fuck James, yes. Moreover, he wants to be inside of James in an entirely different way.

He doesn’t feel whole right now and James is —always has been— so much, in the best way. James is a whole version of himself while Regulus so often feels like merely fragments. Regulus has pieces lost and missing while James’ puzzle is all put together. He wants to force his pieces to fit; take that perfect picture of his apart, shove James’ stolen pieces in between couch cushions and under rugs and in wrong boxes where they don’t belong so that his own can take their place. Regulus’ pieces don’t match, but he wants to make them fit anyway, make a new picture.

He doesn’t want to be just him, doesn’t want James to be just James.

A fucked up mosaic of them. Just them.

“Please.” A new broken piece to add to the pile; a breathless, needy syllable wobbling past James’ reddened lips. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for any more than Regulus knows what to give him first.

Fingernails dig in, leave stinging tracks down the ladder of James’ ribs on either side. There’s a kiss somewhere in the middle —teeth and tongue and more pleading, though Regulus can’t tell who it is that begs this time into the fervent press of their mouths. He doesn’t know what either of them are begging for now.

Too much, too much, too much.

Never enough, never enough, never enough.

Regulus mouths along James’ neck as he slides down his body. He leaves marks everywhere. Teeth. Nails. Roughly pressed fingerprints. Bruises scattered on the tan skin of a man that arches up into him so prettily, so desperately. A body that Regulus brands in whatever way he can.

Mine. All mine. Mine to have, mine to keep, mine to—

He wonders if James feels it too, the coil of something other. The wrench of something deep and twisted, gnarling at his insides, begging to be given attention, to be touched, just as much as he does.

They still don’t touch it, that feeling. There’s sobbed pleas and the whisper of each other’s names and the exhale of filthy promises, but there’s never been that. Never the monster that calls itself love. That stays away, in its cage.

A cage not unlike the ribs that Regulus claws at while biting, sucking, licking down James’ heaving chest.

Is it in there? Is that where James’ love hides? Regulus thinks that’s where his own is hiding —in the heavy staccato hard against his sternum.

It’s a sharp bite here, a soft nuzzle of his nose there. A warm swirl of tongue followed by the frantic pawing of his hands over skin that he thinks he wants to rip into. Maybe if he found a way inside here, he’d figure out how to let it out, too.

I want to be inside of you.

But perhaps he already is in him, they’re both in each other. Maybe where he acts as if his mouth and fingers can tear James’ chest right open, he’s already there. Already made a bloody home for himself in the cavity he’s seemingly trying to create. He’s got to be there, if the way James says his name like it’s a holy being he’s devoted to is any indication.

That’s me, Regulus thinks as his forehead drops onto James’ rising and falling chest, a hurried heart beating wildly there, right where Regulus can feel it.

That’s me —the shiver down James’ spine and the way he writhes beneath him as Regulus works him open with two then three fingers, preparing him to take what he can give him without totally destroying the both of them.

That’s me —the gentle quiver in James’ thighs as he lifts his legs, hooks them around Regulus’ hips, and tugs him in nearer until his cock fills him entirely.

James takes him like he was made to.

Like their pieces do fit, after all.

“Regulus, please.” A moan. A whimper. A single tear trickling out from tightly clenched eyes.

It’s brushed away with a press of Regulus’ lips; salt on his tongue and fire dancing up each notch of his spine. It gets his hips moving steadily; a slow and long pull, a deliberate and harsh push, over and over and over again. They’re both gasping, moaning, mouths hovering over one another’s where Regulus lifts his head to stare down at James and James has his eyes open to gaze up at him.

They’re impossibly drowning and burning at the same time as they look at each other, as Regulus rocks into James and James is unraveling beneath him. Both of them turned inside out. A monster they created together begging to finally be released between them.

“You’re so good, James. So good. Perfect for me.”

I love you.

“I feel— I feel like you’re everywhere, Reg. Everywhere.”

I love you, too.

The cage bars rattle viciously.

Still, they’re not quite open.

But maybe soon.

#jegulus #starchaser #james potter #regulus black #kay’s writing #so that happened agahsjskdmflf #kay’s microfics

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remuswriting · 6 months

Text

YOU KEEP ME CLOSE; SAWAMURA DAICHI

The only time Y/N gets during his shift to take off his binder is his lunch. It goes similarly every day when waiting for it to come around.

WARNINGS: Trans Male! Reader; Fluff; Cashier Things

WORD COUNT: 1,242 words

NOTES: Bestie/coworkers Iwaizumi & Y/N is so important to me. Also, you should be taking breaks with your binder!!! I try to take mine off during my lunch so I don't hurt my ribs. Y/N's ribs aren't bruised in this, just sore from wearing it.

No gender dysphoria in this. It doesn't add anything to it, so I'm just going to keep the lighter vibe going on here.

Breathing hurts—well, it’s more his ribs than breathing. As he breathes, everything expands, and it hurts. So, he looks at his watch for the third time in 10 minutes to see how long until his lunch break. However, minutes feel like hours whenever it gets like this.

“Time doesn’t pass by faster spending it like that,” Iwaizumi says, and Y/N looks over at him. They’re standing at the end of the aisles for the registers waiting for customers to checkout.

“Time doesn’t pass by fast no matter what you do here,” Y/N says, and he notices a woman with an empty shopping cart walk past them. He gives her a warm smile. Retail has to be one of the most painful jobs anyone can have for lots of reasons. One of them being time never passing by quick enough.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and it’s a better reaction than when he hits Oikawa for something stupid shit. He’s never hit Y/N before, but Y/N doesn’t think he’s hit anyone but Oikawa before. It’s most likely a childhood best friend thing that he only gets away with because no one in management has seen him hit sense into Oikawa.

Christmas music plays over the speakers as they straighten up around their registers. It’s that time where there aren’t too many customers in the store, but even if there are, they want self-checkout. Y/N focuses on straightening the gum boxes, pretending his chest isn’t aching.

Don’t look at your watch. Don’t look at your watch. Don’t—

“Are you okay, L/N?” Iwaizumi asks, and Y/N doesn’t look at him, trying to get things perfectly straight.

“Uh, yeah?” he says, and the boxes aren’t cooperating. “Why?”

“You just… You seem a little off.”

Y/N looks over his shoulder at him, and Iwaizumi just seems concerned. Y/N is grateful to have Iwaizumi as a coworker, but he can’t just say that he’s in pain because of his binder. Lunch is the only time he has to take it off and breathe during his eight-hour shift, so he wants it to come faster. He can’t say that, though. It doesn’t matter that Iwaizumi wouldn’t hate him. Y/N just doesn’t tell people. It’s safer, and he has more control that way.

“I’m just hungry,” he says, which isn’t a lie. Having to scan warm food from the deli that smells heavenly is making his stomach grumble. His pocket vibrates, and he quickly pulls his phone out. He can’t stop himself from grinning. “I speak of food and get a text about lunch.”

“Is Sawamura-san stopping by?”

Y/N nods as he tries to bite down his smile. “Yeah, he needs to buy some ingredients. I told him what register I’m on.”

“So he’ll be coming to my register,” Iwaizumi says, and he doesn’t sound upset. There’s actually a faint smile there. (Oikawa once told Y/N that Iwaizumi thinks Daichi is great for Y/N and that he loves seeing Y/N happy. Iwaizumi would never tell him that, though.)

“Yeah, but it’ll be a while, so you still have to have me for the time being.”

“Hopefully, a customer needs to be checked out soon.”

Y/N gasps, a hand immediately covering his heart. “Iwaizumi-san! You wound me!”

Y/N laughs while Iwaizumi just shakes his head slightly and goes back to straightening things. Y/N’s laughter dies down, and he looks at Iwaizumi for a moment before going back to what he was doing.

He was 19 when he came out. It was an impulsive decision that he figures happened because he was so exhausted from shoving himself into some box that didn’t fit him. He was forced to be somebody else—future and all. Absolutely no control of what he could do. So he snapped. He cut his hair, informed everyone around him he’s trans, and cut out so many people for not accepting him. Although it seems so easy to some people, it was so isolating. It was the most alone he’d ever been, but then he met Sugawara and Daichi, and things fell into place. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago, even though it’s only been three years.

“Are either of you open?” someone asks, and he looks up to see an older woman. He smiles at her—his retail smile—and nods.

“Yes, I can get you right over here,” he says, and hopefully this makes time move by faster.

Scanning the woman’s groceries takes far longer than he originally thought. He hadn’t fully processed she had two full carts of groceries until she had unloaded half the first cart on the belt. It’s fine, though. He gets through all of it right as Daichi is in Iwaizumi’s line. They make eye contact, and Y/N smiles at him.

“Your total is going to be—”

“I’ve already inserted my card,” she says, and he nods as he goes through the motions. That’s when Aran, his manager, appears behind him.

“Go on your lunch after this,” Aran says before looking at the woman with a dazzling smile. It’s the one he gives customers since it’s so forced, but from first glance, you wouldn’t realize that. “Ma’am, would you like a carryout today?”

She looks at Aran with wide eyes, probably not expecting to be spoken to by him. “Yes,” she says, and the word sounds slightly choked. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Aran says before hurrying around to the other side of the register to help her and Y/N filling up her cart. As he does so, he speaks into the walkie talkie. “We need a carryout on register 14.”

Kiyoko comes up behind them, and Y/N quickly logs out so she can log in. He looks at Aran. “I’m going to lunch now. I’ll tell them to page someone when I pass customer service.”

“Bye, Iwaizumi-san,” Daichi says, and Y/N nearly runs into him at the end of the aisle. Daichi looks at him and smiles. “Hey there, stranger.”

Y/N smiles back, and he wants to hug him. He wants to pull him in close, even if it’d hurt a little. It’s okay because they’ll go home for a while, and he can take off his binder to breathe for a bit.

Instead, he looks down at the reusable bag Daichi always brings with him to the store. Y/N should be more like his boyfriend in that regard, but he finds that the plastic bags work just fine. He also doesn’t have to add another step when getting ready to go to the store.

“Hey there,” Y/N says as he looks back at Daichi. “Want to get out of here?”

“And cook you a meal while you breathe?” Daichi asks, and he’s smiling so hard it’s easy to hear in his voice. Y/N loves him. He loves him so much, and he wants to say it. Instead, he nods. “Count me in.”

“Alright, but I have to stop by customer service really fast,” Y/N says, and Daichi quickly glances behind them.

“Does she need a carryout?” he whispers, and Y/N laughs as he nods.

“Yes, and you’re not helping her, Mr. I-help-everyone-I-meet,” Y/N says, and Daichi rolls his eyes. He follows Y/N to customer service before they head out the door and Y/N waits for his phone to clock him out. Once it’s finished, he looks up at Daichi. “I’m free for an hour!”

Daichi grabs his hand and pulls him closer. “Then let’s get you home to relax.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #daichi x reader #daichi x male reader #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi x male reader

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bobafetts-princess · 9 months

Text

Suprise!

Have a Ghost drabble 😊

Pairings: Ghost x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1600 words

Warnings: masturbation, fantasizing about someone (is that a warning?) NO PiV, reader is a shit who gets under Ghost’s skin. Soap helps

Summary: Ghost can’t stop thinking about you, in every way

He watches you stretch up on your tiptoes to reach something off the top shelf and he has to inhale deeply to keep himself calm. He desperately wants to go help you but he knows you’ll refuse it. He’s never felt this way about a woman before, this deep, possessive need for you. But there’s something about you, something that makes you different. Women rarely get this far in the military, mostly due to misogyny especially this deep into spec-ops and he respects you for it. You hold your own, you don’t take the boys shit, and you’re beyond capable. Ghost isn’t sure what it is that draws him in the most, your beauty, your brain, or your capabilities, but he knows that watching you constantly doesn’t help.

But still, he can’t look away. Especially as you reach up higher, stretching further, and grab the box of cereal someone placed up there. He groans internally, thinking about how you’d look with your tac pants around your ankles, shoved up on your tiptoes with his cock buried in your pussy. He thinks about the breathy sounds you’d make as he thrusts into you again and again. He’s got to stop thinking about it or he’s not going to be able to stand up for the next half hour. But then he hears you laugh and his eyes focus back in on you, now hopped up on the counter as you reach for bowls that are…..for some reason also on the top shelf. You’re on your knees and Simon’s staring straight as your perky ass, bubbly and round in your pants and he’s gotta shake thoughts of what it would look like reddened by his handprints out of his head.

“Guys. Did you put everything on the top shelf?” You ask but Simon can tell you’re amused by the silly little prank. You’re sitting on the counter now, bowl in one hand and cereal in the other, the army green of the tank top you’re wearing complimenting your skin tone. He can’t stop the thought about fisting the material and pulling it over your head as he’s got two fingers buried inside you.

“Aye lass,” Soap chuckles and Simon’s hand tightens on his water bottle. Gaz and Roach are hanging out in the kitchen too, but it’s pretty clear who’s joke this was. He’s pretty sure the two of you aren’t fucking, but the way Soap’s hands fall on your waist to help you down is very familiar. He murmurs something to you, something that makes you laugh, and Simon has to tamp down the rage building in his bones at it. You pour your bowl of cereal, Soap’s chest pressed against your shoulder as he whispers nonsense in your ear. For the briefest flash of a moment Simon wonders what you’d look like pressed between the two of them, but he gets rid of the thought with a shake of his head.

“Y’alright Ghosty?” The Scotsman asks, eyes flipping to the grip Simon has on his water bottle.

“Fine,” Simon snaps, the bite in his tone more apparent than he intended.

“Alright well Blue Jay here asked you a question,” he drawls, speaking a little slower to make sure Simon’s paying attention. Your call sign draws his attention, usually Soap uses your government name. You’d been gifted the call sign after you’d gotten separated from the others on a mission and managed to take down 4 fully armed guards with just a hunting knife. Price had given you the name, laughing when the others asked him why.

“Ya ever seen a Blue Jay? Pretty birds but mean as fuck. They’ll peck ya with their beaks the same way Blue took down those guards with only a knife. I think it’s fitting,” he’d explained.

“My apologies, what did you ask?” Simon says, his eyes making contact with your own. He tries to soften his tone, make it seem like he’s not riled up and frustrated.

“I asked if you’d get up there and get me a spoon, since Soap here put all the utensils up there too and won’t get me one. And I don’t feel like climbing on the counters again,” Soap chuckles, clearly pleased with his own joke. Ghost stands, stalking towards the two of you. Soap clears out but you don’t, standing your ground even as he encroaches on your space.

“Which cabinet are they?” He snips, annoyed at being this close to you without being allowed to put his hands on you.

“This one,” you say as you point straight up at the cabinet above your head. You’re leaning back against the counter, chin tipped up slightly as you take in Simon’s form. He’s not wearing the tac-vest, but he’s still huge towering over you.

“You gonna move, Blue?” Ghost drawls.

“Nope,” you respond. Ghost calls your bluff, stepping further into your space, one of his thick arms brushing against you. The cabinet is still open and he leans forwards to reach for a spoon. His chest brushes against yours and his nostrils flare as he feels the heat of you. Dirty little minx, he thinks to himself as he presses further against you and feels your breasts against him. His hands grope around for a spoon and he’s not having any luck finding one. Reaching further, his hips press against yours and he has to fight for control when he hears your sharp inhale. He’s so distracted looking for the spoon and trying his damndest not to get hard that he doesn’t hear the rattle of a drawer.

“Where in the bloody-“ he starts, glancing down at you, now wearing a Cheshire Cat grin as you hold the spoon you pulled out of the open drawer on your right. Soap busts out laughing but stops when Ghost turns that deadly stare onto him.

“Think that’s funny, do ya?” He snaps at you, leaning down and placing hands on either side of your torso. He revels in the flash of fear he sees in your eyes, he’s a scary man and you should be afraid of him. But it turns into something else, something Simon is afraid to pinpoint in case he’s wrong about it. But you swallow hard, setting the bowl down and speaking.

“Actually, I do, Lieutenant,” you mouth curls around the term in a way that gets Simon’s blood hot and he has to get out of here, has to get away from you before he makes you say it that way over and over again, preceded by a thank you as he fills you to the brim. Before he watches you wince because his cock is just a touch too big for your sweet pussy.

But he can’t do any of those things because he’s your Lieutenant, your superior, most certainly not your lover. But when his eyes flick back to yours, there’s no mistaking the lust in your eyes as you look at him. There’s no mistaking the way your chest heaves as his eyes glide across it. No mistaking the way you squirm when he growls in his throat. He wants you, wants you so bad and you want him too.

But Price walks in and the electricity of the moment snaps and he shoves away from the counter, his mind filled with images of you begging for it harder from him. Begging for his hand around your throat. On your knees, eyes watering as he shoves his cock down your pretty little throat. He’s half mast as he shoves past Price, who isn’t even phased by Ghost’s temper.

“What happened to you, Blue?” He asks you and Simon can only imagine how you look. Eyes wide, mouth slack, skin flushed. He’s sure you look flustered and pride flares in his chest that he’s the reason you are. His heavy boots stomp down the hall to the showers and if the floor wasn’t concrete he’s pretty sure he’d be leaving footprints with how hard he’s stepping.

He makes it to the showers, undressing in a rush as he flips the water on. His mask stays on as he slips under the hot water, it only reaches chest height anyways, images of you flitting through his mind. He thinks about you, bent over and back arched, taking him so deep you can’t put words together. He thinks about sending you out into the wilderness and tracking you down, taking you hard over a broken log when he finally catches you. He thinks about your face and what it would feel like to press his mouth against yours, to shove his tongue down your throat.

Ghost thinks about the way you’d feel when you come all over his cock, the soft little moan you’d give him and the way your nails would bite into his skin. He thinks about the way he wouldn’t pull out, not for all the money in the world and how he’d make you go back to work with his spend dripping down your thighs and soaking your panties. It’s that final image that gets him to release, the image of him putting your soaked panties back on so you can soak them through for an entirely different reason, then watching you shift all day as he leaks out of you.

He comes, spurting hard against the shower door, groaning your name as he does. The blood roars in his ears and he can’t hear a damn thing for a solid thirty seconds. He doesn’t hear the door open. Doesn’t hear the sound of your feet as you enter the bathroom. He does hear your voice though, echoing through the bathroom.

“Ghost?”

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

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helloitisiafellowgay · 1 year

Text

i need to actually hold myself accountable so have an excerpt of a steddie fic i’m working on where Steve gets Vecna’d and Eddie finds out:

——————————————————————————

”I’m not going to let you die in silence,” Eddie whispers into his hands. “I can’t.”

Steve looks wrecked, a unique kind of hopeless. His mouth opens, slides shut without a sound. They both know that he will make no promises, no reassurances; he values everyone else too much, or rather himself too little.

They don’t say anything else, just linger in a silence too poignant for meaningless platitudes.

Even so, Eddie resigns himself to the devastation ahead. He knows in his bone marrow, knows like breathing, that Steve Harrington will slip through his walls like a marauder, pocket everything of value, and reduce the whole building to studs.

He holds Steve’s hand within both of his own, and he can already feel this boy slipping through his fingers.

When the others get back, Jason and his fellow teammates on their heels, they find themselves swept up in the chaos.

Dustin appears in front of the two adults, pulls Steve to his feet and shoves him towards the driver’s seat. “Come’on, we gotta go!”

Eddie’s lips part, ready to protest that someone experiencing regular bouts of hallucinations might not be the best driver, but Harrington’s already behind the wheel, shifting it into gear and directing the beast of a van onto the road. No one’s listening; talking over each other, too wound up.

Maybe if Eddie had said something then, made them all listen—

But Steve’s tired eyes meet his through the rearview, and he keeps his mouth shut.

He keeps his mouth shut.

———————

When the rest of the Party inevitably find out, Eddie sits back and says nothing, just looks at him with these dark eyes. There is something inconsolable in his gaze, a quiet mourning of a body that doesn’t realize it is becoming closer to vacancy every moment.

Eddie stares at Steve like he’s already lost, and Steve, despite everything, wants with a ferocity he cannot reckon with, for that to mean something.

If he were to bolt right now, he wants to know that this enigma of a boy will follow him over the edge of the world. Steve doesn’t know anyone that has ever loved cared about him enough to not just give chase, but to lead him back to a safe harbor.

Steve almost wishes they hadn’t talked earlier, just so he can forget the warmth and scrape of raw callouses on his biceps, the intensity of Eddie’s concern. Two palms wrapped around his own, a silent plea to stay and fight.

That small scrap had settled in his belly like warm ambrosia, settled on his palate like divinity. Now that he’s had a taste, he’s ravenous for more.

He doesn’t deserve it. God, he doesn’t deserve it. But he wants, and that has always been the worst of his crimes. He pickpockets attention like a petty thief, knows that he can survive on crumbs but he’s never been satisfied. Never felt full, never escaped that insatiable pit in his stomach.

Eddie has ruined him; called attention to the scrambled puzzle of his own existence, traced out the edges with a soft surety that has only made him aware that no one has ever bothered to dust off the box in the first place. Steve wants him to sit down and sort out all of his pieces, fit them into place and assemble him into something that makes sense. That someone might find interesting enough to assign value, beautiful enough to frame like a loved memory.

He wants to be worth something, and damn this boy for making that seem like a possibility, like a feeling worth staying for.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #babysitter steve #vecna’s curse #steve gets vecna’d #eddie my beloved #i need to finish this soon #please bother me about it because my motivation is Lacking

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ineffablystupid · 1 year

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Okay everyone, we gotta talk about that scene where Crowley considers which star system to run off to.

When I decided to rewatch Good Omens, it was going to be casual–have a couple of laughs and memorize more bits of script–with not much planning or thought going into it.

However, me being me, decided in less than 30 minutes that was not what was to occur. I quickly rewound and started a tally of how many times Aziraphale decided to look Crowley up and down (Which that report is in progress. As of writing this, I’m to the end of episode 3, and there’s been a total of 42 instances. E1 has 13, E2 7, and E3 a grand total of 22), and then started dissecting the actions of characters as I always do. In episode 4, Crowley is seen in his house, trying to figure out where to run off to. In the beginning of the clip, we witness him walk up to his desk and spin the globe sitting on it.

Crowley spins the globe, but he does so gently, and when he stops the sphere from moving his touch is even more delicate. When tipping it out of the stand into his cradled palm, there’s a sense of consideration and caution in the movement, before it gracefully floats in front of him. But then he takes out the book. The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy, to be exact, and pages come flying out to float. However, unlike the globe, these pages somewhat chaotically whirl around, and without a care he plucks them from the air to look at, before tossing them roughly. His grip is firm, grasp sudden, and he’s not nearly as careful with these pictures of star systems. Which seems rather odd. A solid, hefty sphere is being held as though it’s a pricey ceramic vase, only to be contrasted by pieces of paper–the far more sensitive material here–that are roughly manhandled and strewn about.

He talks a bit to himself as he does all this, stating, “Beautiful Nebula, look at that. I helped build that one…” in a wistful–though seemingly mourning or even regretful way–and not even 30 seconds later he tosses the sheet into the air, whirls around, and sags against the side of his ornate chair that may as well be called a throne. He looks up quickly, as though on instinct, and words that can only be described as pained leave his mouth.

It’s abrupt, odd for a demon, but Crowley is trying to send his words to The Almighty. He still has faith, it seems, a rarity amongst the fallen. He even brings that up, stating how he only ever questions: “That's all it took to be a demon in the old days”. This seems important in the sense that he acknowledges that today being a demon entails more; spite, menace, vices, and Armageddon’s beginning. He doesn’t want everything to end, and Crowley throughout everything we’ve seen is a harbinger of nothing more than menacing inconvenience and migraines, despite what he says. Crowley isn’t your typical demon, and he unabashedly says aloud to himself something that boils down to I don’t belong down there, but I don’t belong upstairs either, so where do I fit? He’s not even sure God is listening at that point, but keeps his gaze upwards anyway, continuing to beg.

He nearly begins to ask more questions, even, before stopping himself. Suddenly all his attention is on the humans, and he shoves his own well-being aside, ignoring the questions surely ratting in his brain just as they did before he fell all those millennia ago. His tactic changes, and if he wasn’t begging before he surely is now, reasoning with air. The compassion in which he speaks of humanity brings things into perspective, if you simply remember the globe and the off-handed remark involving that nebula.

He helped sculpt the stars, with gentle hands and loving thoughts before he fell. Crowley doesn’t hold as much passion for them as he once did, it seems, and there’s a sense of self-isolation he instills when he mentions that past. A memory treated akin to an ancient box on the top closet shelf; looked at, but untouched and left alone. It reeks of self-loathing and the thoughts I deserve this, a common theme Crowley shows. He doesn’t deserve to be recognized for his niceties–though is unable to give an explanation as to why–and he no longer cares for his own creations and collaborations now that he’s a being of the occult.

But humans, now that’s where he fits in. He loves the society of Earth, the antics of man and the shifting environment. Earth is what he knows, he's been there since the start, and whether intentional or not, he's likely shaped how humanity is, just a tad. He still has compassion, which is still odd for a demon, and for the most part it's directed at the mortals who are unaware they're on the clock.

That's why he acts the way he does when he first appears in the scene. Perhaps subconsciously, he handles the globe almost reverently because of all the worries he has for the planet, for humanity. He's taken that care once held for creations as an angel and transferred it to something new; unfond of his past. That's likely why he handles the pages so roughly, his aggression and frustration channeled into something he lost and can't quite harm anymore.

Crowley is hurting quite a bit; Aziraphale, the one person he can trust, shoved away his offer of escape, and that only compounds the mess set in front of the viewer. Crowley feels powerless, and we see a vulnerability when he states his thoughts, praying to the only person he feels has power. That desperate draw in the words "Okay, I know you're testing them, you said you were going to be testing them," before his gaze moves away from the ceiling and the heavens above it. "You shouldn't test them to destruction…" he continues, and we see a rare moment of extra vulnerability, his prayer sounding akin to a child begging their parent to do something.

Which, in reality, is all this scenario is. Despite having fallen, despite the supposed "unforgivable" quality of being a demon, he still cries out with what little faith he has left, uncaring of how he's fallen. He doesn't want to lose a place that feels like home, his angel, everything that he cares about. He doesn't want Armageddon, unlike all the other demons. But then, he pauses. He spits the words, "Not to the end of the world," and bats the globe harshly away, the thing flying through the air before hovering right on back to where it was. His face morphs into something of dread, and the scene cuts.

This final bit here is interesting; he lets a bout of anger get the best of him, he attempts to remove his attachment from society it seems, but mere seconds later, he finds himself unable to let go. The globe is the perfect symbol for this, and it helps us visualize that, even if it's only a few seconds of action.

Struggling with his past, his fall, and his assistance in the stars, it's not shocking to see him crumble in such a sudden, rocky way. His friend (cough cough lover cough) left him, so he turns to the only place he can think of. The supposedly all-seeing, loving, forgiving Almighty. But his esteem struggles, and he tosses it all away for society's continuation. He adores Earth, even if he won't admit it, and Crowley finds it impossible to let go. Who can blame him? It’s his home, with his music, and Bentley, the flat, Aziraphale, and so, so many memories. It’s very… special, compared to a job he had before he was tossed from the skies, and even if it’s just a stupid little thing, the globe represents his entire world. Literally. And who would willingly let that slip away? Not Crowley, obviously.

#Dubious Decides to Dissect.#show analysis #good omens #crowley #good omens crowley #That scene with the pages #Episode 4 good omens

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bunniesnuggie · 2 years

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I know you are taking a break from stuff, but I wanted to recommend a possible fic idea or hc with cg! Eddie and fem reader with like playing dress up or dollies or tea parties and just the rough and tough metal guy holding out his pinkie as he sips real or imaginary tea from a plastic tea set....

Now I wanna buy a real people tea set.

a/n: AHHH YES I CAN THIS IS MY FAVORITE TROPE EVER, cue eddie in a tiara. watch as the scenarios get longer and longer :3 btw the stuffies featured here are some of my actual stuffies!

~ princess tea party ~

cg!Eddie Munson x (fem) little!reader

summary: what having a fancy tea party with daddy is like

warnings - readers clothing described as being smaller than eddie’s, over use of the term “princess”, not proofed

as always - sfw interaction only, this is not an ageplay fic. dni if dd/|g or k¡nk variant

• the first time you asked to play, eddie thought you wanted to play princess and knight, until you shoved a dress in his hands and a tiara on his head

he looked at you with wide eyes, you thought he was gonna shove it off and tell you that boys don’t play dress up. the thought made your lip wobble and you reached to take it off, “sowy….” he quickly pulled back and straightened the tiara. he looked at the sparkly purple dress, then to you, and ripped his shirt off then shoved the small dress on over his head. ignoring the small tearing sounds it made, only focusing on the huge smile you held.

• it’s a formal event, sunday best and sparkles are required. additionally you must act like gentleman or lady when at the table

eddie wrapped his fingers around the small pink cup before drinking the whole thing in one sip. “DADDY, NOO!” you shrieked, he jumped with wide eyes, his tiara falling to the ground, “oo gots tuh do lady sips, wif or pinky ups, see wash me,” you pickled up saucer as well as the cup by the tiny handle, with your small pinky held high and took a tiny sip, before placing it on the saucer and back on the table. “der see how fancy i was, dada! now oo try it pease!” you filled his teacup back up and looked at him with expectant eyes. he of course copied you exactly, lifting the saucer and cup with his pinkies lifted, then took the tiniest sip he could, “how was that princess? royalty approved?”

• you would have a tea party multiple times a week. it doesn’t bother eddie, he loves playing with you. he just doesn’t want to keep ruining your play dresses :(

“baby, i’m not saying we can’t play tea party, and ill wear the crown! i just don’t wanna keep ripping your pretty dresses, honey.” eddie frowned, trying to explain to his very pouty, teary eyed baby. you didn’t want to be a bad girl so you just nodded, sniffling and wiping your tears. eddie inwardly groaned, he grabbed the already ripped purple dress in one hand and scooped you up in the other. “okay how ‘bout i put on this one ok? it’s already got rips in it, you can help me fix it later and we’ll get dada dresses in his size, how’s that sound?” while he never, ever thought he’d go buy himself dresses in his life, the giggle and smile that came from you was totally worth it.

• that being said you have so many princess dresses and tiaras, wands, play jewelry. all of it. you have a whole dress up box full of princess dresses thank you goodwill

eddie walked through the thrift store, a pile of frilly dress in one hand and your tiny hand in the other. he felt you tugging on his arm every so often to get his attention, “oooh d- um eddie spaghetti wook” you mumbled quietly to him, fingers running along a pink and gold dress. he smiled and pulled you into his side, shoving his face into your neck to blow raspberries, “i see sweetie, wanna add it to the pile?” you giggled and nodded, shoving it into his hands before skipping off to the dressing room. everything fit great except for the last dress, which happened to be the beloved pink dress. you came out with a pout, drowning in the dress, “don fit,” :( eddie couldn’t have you being sad, that’s unacceptable. he took some safety pins off his jacket and pulled the dress tighter around you, pinning it in place. it was still kinda big, but have you the idea. “i’ll make it better princess, you can have your own fancy princess fitting, hmm?” you grin at him, “or dis one can be yours?”

• drink of choice is strawberry milk (or you favorite drink in little space) he would never let his baby handle hot drinks when so small and water is too boring

the eldest munson woke up to rummaging in his kitchen, padding out with furrowed brow he found his nephew pulling out every single box they had in the cupboard, eddie didn’t even bother turing around, only letting out a, “morning!” wayne just smiled, “good morning to you too, champ. uhh - what’re looking for there ?” eddie just let out an humm, not quite processing the question and continued digging. that’s when wayne looked up and saw a pitcher of milk with a spoon sitting in it, he realized what day it was, you were coming over to spend time with your dada (uncle wayne knows and supports bc he’s slay) he immediately knew what eddie was looking for, he pulled the pink and yellow container down from the top of the fridge. “she tried adding it to water last time you weren’t here, i put it out reach to avoid that again.” he laughed remembering your scrunched up face as soon as the potent water touched your tongue. eddie hugged and thanked his uncle before dumping a heap loud of the pink powder into the milk and aggressively mixing.

• gareth comes too of course, he stumbled upon you guys one day mid party, loosing his mind at his dungeon master and lead guitarist wearing a pink sparkly dress (in his size) and a tiara on his head, until you squealed and pulled him to join

the trailer door swung open and a boisterous laughter was heard, “garebear’s here!!!! yay!!!” you yelled and jumped up, ruining into the drummers arms. he immediately grabbed you and spun you in a circle, “wow! look at you, you look so pretty fairy!!” he gushed giving you kisses on your soft cheeks, “and so do you ed’s .” your dada just glared, making gareth laugh harder at the angry metal head trying to look intimidating in his sparkly dress. you clapped you hands, “oh he does?! doesn’t he! oo wan one too, garebear? gots lots of crowns!!” you were running off the the dress up box before he could answer, coming back with a tiara, clip on earrings with a matching necklace, and a tutu. grinning like the cheshire cat, he was ready to say no, until a steal toed boot came into contact with his shin, “ow- yea thank you fairy, of course i would like to play!” he smiled at you, letting you put the sparkly items on him. he just stated at the fluffy skirt for second before eddie spoke up, “put the dang tutu on emerson.” he pulled it on and flicked eddie in the head when you weren’t looking, making him lightly shove back. “dada!” he looked at you with big eyes, worried you saw that, “we gots to show em how to dwink it fancy!”

• your stuffies also attend, of course. in the proper attire because you have an amazing daddy with never ending skills

“dada can you pwetty pease gib pippa a cookie?” you asked oh so politely, with a large grin on your pretty face. “of course i can princess, does mr. sprinkles want one too?” he responded, putting a cookie on the small baby pink plate in front of your brown bunny, who was dress in her pretty pink and purple dress. you giggled and nodded, both of you knowing very well who was gonna eat those cookies in a matter of seconds. he smiled putting another cookies down, this time in front of you large white unicorn. “oo hab some too dada?” you grabbed a cookie reaching it out to eddie. he grabbed the cookie with his mouth, playfulling nibbling on your fingers, making you giggle and squeal. “why thank you my beautiful princess, that was delicious!” you happily flapped you hands and just continued your conversation with your stuffies, pouring them more “tea” and taking bites of the cookies on the plates. he just smiled to himself, he may be a rough and tough metal head but if his baby girl asks him to play princess’ and have a tea party with him, you better hand him a tiara.

a/n: i hope you liked this, sorry it’s a bit short. and sorry i haven’t written in forever, i just didn’t have motivation for awhile. i hope to work on jealous baby pt 2 some more cuz i’ve started it and i’m pretty excited abt how it’s gonna go!!

\\tag list\\

@bootlegmothman420 @angelbaby-fics @lil--baby--bat @stardancerluv @lulubooboo @leilanix19 @albino-otaku

(as always just let me know if you wanna be added!!!)

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 2 years

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best friends forever | yandere!nash gold jr x jason silver

They say Jason’s body was gifted to him by God. If that’s the case, then count Nash a deity. He was the one who honed it.

It was his keen eye that analysed Jason’s movement patterns, who provided tailored workout plans and advice, who knew when something was off before Jason even did - the reason that he’s never suffered a serious injury while he’s been a part of Jabberwock. It was Nash who kept him in order. Kept him improving.

Nash knows Jason’s body better than he knows his own, and they haven’t even fucked.

Maybe that’s where all this began, that concentration. It’s like basketball. When Nash takes something seriously, he gets tunnel vision. With basketball, he picked up boxing, swimming, all to keep toning himself up. He quit foods he’d loved since he was a child to maintain that peak fitness. People said his willpower was just that strong, but, really, willpower had never had a role to play in it. The more he practiced on the court, the more food lost its taste. There was just basketball and whatever it took to excel in it.

And then the generic need for basketball started to shift. It developed into a need to create a street ball team above all others, and that in turn became a need to create a player that would outshine everyone else - everyone else but Nash.

The first time he met Jason, it was in the evening, at a court dimly light by the McDonalds opposite it. Nash’s friends dared him to 1v1 Jason, said he was a real monster. They were right. A real monster. Of course, Nash won, 15-9, but the rage in Jason’s eyes as he stormed up to his opponent, a full eight inches shorter… That was a monster’s rage.

Something in Nash’s head clicked, and he couldn’t hear his companions anymore.

They’re good friends now. Even when Jason’s blood’s up and he starts getting nasty, Nash never really loses his temper with him. In his mind, he forgives the insubordination. All it ever takes is a few harsh words, a reminder of how their team works, and Jason backs off. Then they’re buddies again. Jason never apologises; he makes small jokes in place of a ‘sorry’. The no homo jokes, for example. He never understands why Nash doesn’t find them funny.

Silver and Gold, surnames made for each other. Nash and Jason, friends forever. But, are they? When you’ve known Jason as long as Nash has, you get to know that he’s a man who likes to live freely. He’ll have a pal for a few months, and then forget that guy ever existed. He goes through girls as if he thinks he’s been blessed with an eternal supply of them. The street ball team is the longest, and most serious, commitment Jason’s ever made in his life, but teams don’t last forever. Nash is starting to get bored of theirs. His teammates don’t particularly matter. They’re talented, but they’re not destined for greatness like he and Jason are.

Let Jabberwock break up eventually, Nash thinks. He’s already got plans for the next stage of their basketball career. Whether he’ll go professional or not, he’s still undecided, but Jason will - even if he doesn’t want to - and it’ll be Nash who’s pulling his strings, who makes sure he stays at the top. Jason’s ability to handle the pressure at that level is another problem. Yet Nash almost hopes he won’t.

Because then he’ll become even more dependent on his blond-haired ‘friend’.

Nash keeps his mouth shut about his real feelings. He can imagine what Jason’s reply if he were honest about it; at very best, the response would be a shove, and a “what the actual fuck, dude.” It’s a shame, but would he be the Jason Nash knows if the response was any different?

Besides, even on the days where it looks as if Jason’s cottoned onto something - when he sees the bitterness, the burning in Nash’s eyes and realises that there’s something more going on in his captain’s head than a competitive streak - he never does anything. When Nash is like that, he doesn’t even confront him. He catches himself before he can say anything, as Nash feels a cold approval run through his veins.

Whether he suspects anything, whether he doesn’t, Nash doesn’t give a shit.

After all, Jason has nowhere to go - if it’s not with him.

Nash will make sure of that.

***

for anon who requested "Idk if u do yandere cuz i couldnt find ur rules but if u do could u do yandere nash/jason hcs?". it occurred to me, about half way through writing this, that you might be using '/' to mean 'or', not the character x character reading. and then i realised you hadn’t wanted a scenario either. but the premise of this was simply too much fun to stop. sorry and feel free to request again if this isn't what you wanted :)

related to this scenario:

jabberwock team interaction hcs and panel analysis can be found here

rules can be found here (just add /rules to my url) (yandere is always welcome).

gory/yandere-ish nash x reader here

nash x "glucose guardian" here

#yandere!nash would love hanamiya #hell nash himself would love hanamiya #nash x hanamiya when #for the nth time fujimaki give us a kiridai ova please #pretty please :)#a kiridai meet jabberwock ova would be a lot of fun #nash gold jr #jason silver #nash gold jr x jason silver #nash x jason #yandere #yandere!knb #knb #kuroko no basuke #the basketball which kuroko plays #jabberwock #kirisaki daichi scenarios #fanfiction #character x character

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kagehinafromtheconcrete · 2 years

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afterglow || ch 05: games

fic summary: Kageyama has learned a lot of things since befriending Hinata Shouyou. Things about Hinata, things about himself. How to open up. How to be vulnerable. How to love. And Hinata? Hinata learns more about Kageyama than he ever thought he would. Kagehina drabble collection ft. the rest of Karasuno, written for sarahenany. prompt: “don’t be stupid” ch summary: Hinata asks Kageyama to play his new game with him on his new game console, and he doesn't let Kageyama refuse. Kageyama is simultaneously confused and delighted by this.

Send me dialogue prompts in my ask box and I’ll credit you! Find on the whole collection on ao3. Or...

Hinata always chatted up a storm after practice. Well, Hinata chatted up a storm at any point of the day if he was given the chance, but it was especially post-practice.

“—and I’ve finally saved up enough to get the console, and Kenma and Kuroo-san got me a game since I couldn’t afford both, which was gah, so nice, but since we’ve been practicing so much, I haven’t had time to play much, so—”

Ah. Kozume again.

“—I’m thinking about playing this weekend since we’re not having Saturday practice,” Hinata finished enthusiastically.

“Sounds fun, Shouyou,” Noya said with a grin. “What console did you get?”

Hinata beamed. “A Switch Lite!”

Kageyama’s brows pulled together. Which one was that? Kageyama didn’t keep up with a lot of gaming consoles. Miwa-nee had a handheld one back when Kageyama was in middle school, but he didn’t remember what it was called.

“...geyama. Kageyama, are you listening?”

Kageyama turned to Hinata with a frown. “What?”

“I asked if you wanted to play games with me!”

“Go ask Kozume,” Kageyama said with a shrug, not to be dismissive, but because it seemed like Kozume was the better option, here. And Hinata obviously liked spending time with Kozume. He talked about him a lot.

Something uncomfortably tight shifted in his chest. Kageyama wondered idly if Hinata talked about him to other people.

Don’t be stupid, his brain said immediately. What would you need him to talk about you for?

“Are you… jealous, Kageyama?” Hinata asked abruptly.

“What? What reason would I have to be jealous?”

He turned to give Hinata a questioning look, frowning, and then realized that multiple teammates were staring at him, too. Their expressions were hard to read, but then, Kageyama couldn’t read someone to save his life. Not unless he was in the middle of a match.

It wasn’t a big deal that Hinata talked about Kozume all the time. It wasn’t. Regardless of the stupid feeling in his chest, he couldn’t really get mad at Hinata for having friends. It was just a Hinata thing. He made friends with everyone.

Everyone, including socially awkward, couldn’t-keep-up-with-the-times Kageyama. So, really, Kageyama wasn’t all that special. All he had was volleyball.

Kageyama’s frown deepened. Maybe after everyone left, he’d change back into his practice clothes and go back to the gym. Maybe he could convince Tanaka to give him the key so he could lock up instead.

“Kageyama?” Hinata echoed.

“I’m not jealous,” Kageyama repeated, shouldering his bag.

“...but you look sad.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Then come play games with me tonight!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“Pleeeeaaaase?”

“Ugh, fine. Fine,” Kageyama relented finally, tossing Hinata an exasperated look. “I’ll play games with you.”

“Whipped,” Tanaka whispered suddenly, only to be silenced immediately by a rough shove from Ennoshita.

And thus, Kageyama sat on Hinata’s bed a few hours later, awaiting Hinata’s return from his sister’s room. He cradled Hinata’s console in his hands—bright yellow in color, fitting his even brighter personality—trying to figure out how the button mapping worked. The third-years had left and only three of the five second-years remained, but Hinata had asked him to play games with him.

Surely Tanaka or Noya would be better at this sort of thing? Yet Hinata wouldn’t let him say no. Maybe the only reason he didn’t bring up playing with Nekoma’s setter was that he was all the way in Tokyo. Couldn’t they have figured something out, though? Over the phone? Through streaming or whatever?

Maybe… maybe Kageyama was Hinata’s second choice. The thought made his heart twist in a way that was physically painful.

The door slid open suddenly. “Ok! I’m back, Kageyama!”

“M’kay.”

“Do you like it?” Hinata asked, plopping down beside him. He leaned his weight into Kageyama, so close that his hair tickled Kageyama’s cheek. “The Switch Lite?”

A shrug. “I guess.”

“What do you mean you guess?! Say it’s cool!”

“What difference does it make if I like it? It’s your console, dumbass.”

“Yeah, but your opinion is important to me, so.”

Kageyama blinked, not expecting such an honest answer. His fingers hovered over the console’s analog sticks, eyes widening a hair as the words fully registered. “...really?”

“Wha—of course! You’re my best friend.”

Kageyama quieted, chest swelling. His fingers remained motionless against the Switch’s controls as he fought to think of something to say in response. But all that came out was: “I’ve never… had a best friend before.”

“Me neither, honestly. You’re my first.”

Kageyama's lips twitched as he looked back at Hinata’s console. A best friend. Hinata’s first best friend. “...you don’t have other best friends?”

“Nope! Just you.”

Hinata said the words so happily, like he was proud of it. The heat in Kageyama’s chest sparked anew. “M…me too.”

“Huh?”

“You’re. Uh. You’re mine… too. My best, um. Best friend.”

Hinata didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned more into Kageyama, his weight comfortable in a way that Kageyama couldn’t explain. Then, quietly: “That makes me really happy.”

They played Hinata’s game for hours. Kageyama wasn’t all that great at it—they switched every time their character died—and even though he’d never admit it out loud, there was something… oddly relaxing about watching Hinata play. Or maybe it was because of the way they sat together on the bed, leaning on each other, so close that Kageyama could hear Hinata’s breathing. Or maybe it was the reassurance of Hinata’s words, so confident and without hesitance, calling Kageyama his friend. His best friend.

His only best friend.

My opinion is… important to him.

The thoughts carried him into the night, when it was too dark and too late to even consider going home until the next day. He fell asleep cradled in their warmth, listening to Hinata’s breathing and the repetitive clicking of buttons.

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