#this would be an absolute crack fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetarttfuldickhead · 9 months

Note

Is Trent Crimm deeply disappointed that he missed the whole locker room scene where the team airs their “stop hogging Jamie” grievances or deeply relieved? On the one hand, reporter instincts for a good story, on the other hand his own morals would never let him put it I the book, massive (reporter/writer) blue balls.

re: Jamie Hogging Ask- some days ago on the Colin/Jamie post, you mentioned that you'd daydreamed out a bit of an AU where Jamie ended up dating a whole section of the team on some sort of rotation schedule. I assume that there was some dramatic locker room scene where they all hashed out that they felt it was unfair that only Colin on the team got to date him. I assume Trent was no longer hanging around the locker rooms at this point (but who knows, he may be a fixture now. also it could be mid season 3 when this all goes down, idk). But he still has the instinct to know when a really good/interesting story is around. On the one hand, he knows his conscience won't let him publish the level of ridiculousness that Richmond can sink to. On the other hand, it would be really really funny to write a whole chapter on the way that this was negotiated out, and also that a google calendar/groupchat was created specifically for coordinating who gets to monopolize Jamie and when.

Ooh, love the way you think, nonny!

If Trent weren’t around for all that he’d be massively disappointed, I think. Yes, as a (former) journalist he’s driven to share the truth, but I think he’s even more driven to know the truth. He can keep quiet when he has to – see: Colin kissing Michael – but realizing he’s missed out on Something Good? Ah, no, that’ll drive him nuts.

But now that you’ve suggested it, I am convinced he was there. Admittedly, in my head this whole thing goes down quite some time after the S3 finale, but that’s not a problem! Even though the book’s both written and published, I’m sure Trent finds plenty of reasons to stop by Nelson Road for a visit. He’s a Diamon Dog now, right? Gotta drop in for the weekly barking session! (Ted Zooms in sometimes, which is always a treat.) Besides, Trent grew very fond of the whole team while he was there, and though he gets most of the gossip from Colin – they obviously stay in touch, Trent knows all about the Jamie situation – he still wants to hear the coaches’ takes on everything that goes on, hang out with the rest of the lads for a bit. So, yeah, he’s there.

I think he might write the chapter, actually – knowing full well he can’t ever publish it, but needing to put it down even so. Get it out of his system, somehow. Also, it gives him a chance to indulge in all the (affectionate!) sarcastic and wry little comments he dutifully left out of the actual book!

Say Trent’s showed up one morning before practise while everyone’s getting changed and let’s say Roy shows up with Jamie and sort of hand him over to Colin and Colin and Jamie start enthusiastically making plans for the evening and maybe it’s Jan Maas who notes that “It’s not actually fair Roy and Colin both get to date Jamie when no one else does.”

As Roy stares at him incredulously and Dani pipes up. “I agree with Jan. It makes me happy to see you together, but it also makes me sad”, Trent’s spidersense is not only tingling but absolutely exploding and he discreetly pulls out his notebook and start jotting things down as fas as he can while the room unravels before his very eyes:

JT says he’s willing to date anyone who wants to date him, if OK with RK, KJ & CH. They are.

Explicitly wants in: Jan Maas, Dani Rojas, Jeff Goodman, Paul Reynolds, Bhargava, Sasha Kukoč.

Suspect might want in but didn’t say: Potentially everybody but Sam, but especially Arlo Dixon and Martin de Maat.

Bumbercatch volunteers to sort out a calender & group chat bc better if it’s someone who doesn’t want to date Jamie, make sure it’s fair.

CH pleased MB doesn’t want to date JT?

McAdoo claims first date even though he doesn’t actually want to date Jamie, bc his right & duty as captain to make sure it’s ok for everyone else. JT: “What? The fuck do you mean, why wouldn’t it be ok?” IM: “I’m the captain, and I say this is happening.” JT: “Fine, but you’re taking me somewhere fancy and you’re paying.” IM: “Just to be clear, we’re not having sex.” JT: “This is the worst date I’ve ever been on and we haven’t even been yet.”

JT questions why Sam doesn’t want in on the schedule and seems offended on principal when SO explains that JT is his best friend and not some one he wants to date. JT pouts until SO offers to take him out on friend dates.

Cockburn also wants to go on friend dates with JT.

Brief but heated discussion if friend dates & boyfriend dates should be different schedueles and if it’s OK to sign up for both. CH’s attempts to question how friend dates is different from just being friend and hanging out from time to time is shut down.

Tom O’Brien wants to know if he can sign up for a date with Jamie, Keeley and Roy. RK stares at him for 1 good minute before saying “No.”

Discussion about the etiquette of not wearing Jamie out if he’s scheduled to have another date soon after your date with him.

JG: But we don’t have to check in with everyone else if we want to sleep with him, right? RK: You better fucking check in with him. B: I don’t think I want to know what anyone else is doing. JM: Yeah, that’d be weird. JT: I don’t think anyone else should get to decide if I have sex with someone or not. RK: *clears his throat meaningfully* JT: I mean, as long as Roy and Keeley and Colin don’t mind.

That’s just the first page of Trent’s notes, btw, they go on for like four more, practice is delayed by at least an hour. Keeley follows the whole thing on video call (obvs they had to run it by her before handing Jamie out to everyone who wants a piece). Rebecca stops by, blinks once and then nopes the hell out of this madness. Nate wonder if he ought to sign up for a date with Jamie, if everyone else is doing it, but he doesn’t think Jade would approve.

Colin can’t quite let go of the notion that maybe this means he could date Bumbercatch, Roy questions his sanity every other second, and Jamie is living his best life (and is delighting in the fact that the next time he sees Roy and Keeley, they are going to make very sure Jamie knows where he ultimately belongs).

#i would love to read this chapter #but realistically speaking i’m not going to be the one to write it #as i’m a terribly slow writer and it would take me forever #and if I keep getting distracted i’ll never finish the little fic i’m actually working on #ahahahah who am i kidding i will absolutely keep getting distracted #but i do what i can #anyone else want to play with this idea you go right ahead #asks #crack crack crackity-cracking #jamie tartt #a team of himbos #jamie/everyone #jamie/colin #roy/keeley/jamie

20 notes · View notes

inkperch · 24 days

Text

Yknow, an au where Aang thawed out a decade or three earlier would probably have Ozai as the Zuko, and that fact alone makes me wanna write it-

#fire lord ozai #atla #crack fic idea #Not really I'm being serious #Iroh would absolutely be the Azula but Worse:tm:. By a lot-

4 notes · View notes

sleepsonfutons · 1 year

Text

Back on my Furby bullshit care of the discord crew!! This time I bring you the Corinthian aka Corby~

But that's not all (/ ☆ A☆)/~~

Beware the EXTRA Cursed™️teef version!

Ah yes, you came through for the 100-octane nightmare fuel! Welcome~(❁´◡`❁)

As thanks for coming through, here's a lil story inspired by the folks on Discord who posited that Cori would absolutely love this lil terror and keep it as a pet!

Dream had been looking for his nightmare for the better part of a day when he finally found him yet again in the Waking. Since his remaking the Corinthian had been far more docile, as far as any nightmare might be anyway, so it came as a shock for his nightmare to have wandered so far again. While he hadn't expressly forbidden his creation from leaving the Dreaming, he was still wary to let the Corinthian wander among the dreamers again...given what had happened with his last incarnation. Still he was willing to hold judgment until he saw just what his nightmare was up to. With a flick of his wrist and a spray of sand, Dream stepped forth from his realm into the Waking, straight into the middle of a bustling lakeside park. The sound of various conversations filled the air alongside the squeals of children splashing in the shallows off the sandy beach beyond the line of picnic tables shaded by oversized patio umbrellas. Casting his eyes about Dream immediately picked out his golden-hued creation...and the youthful form of his nephew, Jed. Ahh, an indulgence in his sweet tooth and a visit, Dream thought. He smiled at the scene and the still unexpectedly caring side of his nightmare on display until he noted the alarmed looks the pair were receiving from the surrounding humans. His small smile faltered as he began picking out snippets of what was said by the people who hastened away from his nightmare and nephew like they were cursed.

"Did you see that?!" "What the fuck is that!?" "I thought those things were creepy enough without all these outrageous mods!" "I'm going to have nightmares for months!! That's straight-up nightmare fuel!?" It was the last whispered comment that urged Dream to cross the intervening space in an instant. That mortals would so plainly perceive one of his creations was not to be bor- However, arriving at the table, the King of Nightmares though he may be, Dream, himself, had to pause as he took in the abomination that sat on the table between his nephew and the Corinthian. Begrudgingly he admitted to none but himself that he would have to take notes as the surrounding dreamers' assessment of the...creature...was not inaccurate. It certainly would not look odd among his creations, though, he had to wonder where this monstrosity came from or what had seen to its creation. His nightmare however barely paused in his consumption of his cone as he acknowledged Dream's sudden appearance. "Finally caught up then? I'd wondered when you'd turn up to call me back, my Lord." The Corinthian smirked up at him between licks of his ice cream. "As you can see, I'm just enjoying a cone with my pal. Isn't that right, Jed?" "Mmmmhm," Jed replied, oblivious to the horror of those around and seemingly unaffected by the creature on the table as he continued to eat his cone with a smile. Dream sighed and, flipping the long tails of his coat out of the way, sat down next to his nightmare. "I am not here to call you back as it were. If you had been up to aught that you should not, I would, however, as Jed is enjoying himself and all is well," Dream paused and looked at the disturbing tri-mouthed creature pointedly, "there is no such need." Tracking Dream's gaze, the Corinthian grinned to the point of splitting his face and though his glasses concealed his eye mouths, Dream knew they were mirrored the same manic delight. "Ah, my pet! It's the cutest thing you've ever seen now isn't it?" The nightmare's eyes would be twinkling with mischief if he had standard-issue eyeballs, but revealed itself in the scrunch of his nose instead. "I can see it's not one of yours given your reaction to it. I'd almost wondered if you'd created it as a gift for me, your favorite. 'Course that'd be too bold for you. Can't be showing favoritism now can you?" Dream decidedly did not squirm at that apt assessment, for the Corinthian was indeed his 'favorite' as such things went. He was without a doubt his masterpiece after all. "Certainly not. Still, I would have you explain where you found this...not nightmare." The Corinthian shrugged and bit into his cone, all the ice cream now gone. "Not much to tell. When I stepped through into the Waking and hopped in a car to go pick up Jed, there it was. Sitting pretty in the passenger seat wearing its seat belt all proper to boot. Given the striking resemblance between us though..." Trailing off, the nightmare licked his fingers free of crumbs and ice cream now that he'd finished his cool treat. "I suppose it could be an aspect of me? Though, you giving me the 'power' of creation seems a stretch." The Nightmare King simply nodded as he held the toothy gaze of the furry creature until it stuck three small, pink tongues out at him in a flash before returning to an eerily vacuous countenance. "Hmmm, it certainly is of you and despite my not directly forming it, it is of me as well." Nightmare licked his lips and turned a hungry smirk upon his Corinthian. "It is ours, my little nightmare." This last practically purred as he traced the blonde's jaw, even as Jed made a gagging sound at the obvious flirting between his uncle and 'uncle' Cori.

13 notes · View notes

ask-e123-omega · 1 year

Note

I would love to see a little side story of Omega going to Aperture Science.

A meeting between Omega and GLaDOS would be something.

(//ooc: hmm, not sure who'd win the smackdown. Omega's biggest strength is the fact that he's not an organic and thus can't succumb to the neurotoxin. Additionally, he's resistant to the 65% more bullet-per-bullet turrets, since the bullets aren't actually being fired- there's a chance the rounds could simply bounce off his armor. However, GLaDOS also controls the rest of Aperture, and that's where things would go south for him. Omega is damned determined, but he's also nowhere near as intelligent as GLaDOS. She could set up a trap with crushers or acid pits on his way to her central chamber and he'd probably fall for it.

If you mean for the two to meet when Omega isn't currently angry beyond all hope of reasonable discussion- well, they'd agree about some things at first, namely their shared low opinion of organics, but I'm not sure they'd be friendly much more than that. I think GLaDOS would be quick to see him as a blockhead and that would piss him off. Their enormous egos would clash- she's a robot of science, and he's a robot of destruction, and they'd both underestimate each other in that regard. Omega is smarter than any other robot she's interacted with, and GLaDOS is more lethal than her euphemisms conceal from him.

These two could be friends if they could set aside their own assumptions for a few minutes, though. Both appreciate humor, both are proud to be robots, both hold their personal freedom as their most important value. . . wait a minute.

They'd be an excellent crack ship.)

#//ooc #look what you've done to me! I've never had a crack ship before!#a crossover fic where team dark infiltrates aperture science would be absolutely unhinged but. . .#it IS tempting to write

7 notes · View notes

taoofshigeru · 2 years

Conversation

Surge: Rrragh, c'mon! There's gotta be something in this junkyard I can use as a weapon!

Cubot: Not on me, right? Please say not on me!

Surge, kicking a long, thin thing out of the pile: Wait, what's...this?

-It's a black electric guitar with like a dozen lime-green flame decals.-

Cubot: Oh, that? The boss built it in an afternoon, said it was the key to "defeating that hedgehog in the way that'll mean the most". ...I think he spent a week trying to learn it before giving up and tossing it in the pile.

Surge, casting Cubot aside: Huh, defeating that hedgehog? With this? ✨👀✨ I like it. It... It speaks to me.

[Days later...]

Jewel: Sonic, Tails, we need you in Central City now!!

Tails: Is it an emergency? What's happening?!

Jewel, ripping off her suit to reveal a Surge the Tenrec Concert Tour T-shirt: Only the COOLEST CONCERT OF ALL TIME!

[However long it takes to get to Central City later...]

-Hundreds of residents have gathered in the street. The crowd is chanting TEN-REC, TEN-REC! And Surge is headbanging very hard.-

Sonic: Sooo, should we just leave her be? Doesn't seem like she's hurting anyone

Kit: Um, sir, the thing about Surge is... *whispers in Tail's ear*

Tails, nodding: Mhm, mhm. Ohhh, so if we... Uh-huh...

Tails: Actually, I think we can do one better and get in on the fun ourselves.

Tails: *whispers in Sonic's ear*

Sonic: Uh-huh, uh-huh. Ooooohh! Yeah, let's do that.

......

-The crowd is chanting SURGE, SURGE, SURGE after yet another sick guitar solo.-

-But then the sound goes dead and the sound of a mic turning on cuts the silence.-

-Sonic steps out of a pillar of smoke and wearing cool shades, with Tails right behind him.-

Sonic: Surge the Tenrec, you've been bothering the poor citizens with this town with your lame music for one song too many. I challenge you to a battle...

*Sonic tossed the mic away and whips out a trumpet and Tails pulls out a pair of Maracas.*

...of the bands!

Surge, grabbing the mic out of the air: Oh hell yes! I'm gonna wipe the floor with you this time. Nobody but nobody is beating Surge the Tenrec twice in one week! -uf!

Kit, showing up behind Surge to hug her: Ma'am! I'm so glad you're okay. *Pulls out a rhythm guitar.* Also can I be your backup band?

Surge: Heh, good to see you too, drippy. Try to keep up!

[Several hours of epic shredding and cool toots later, the crowd is still chanting Surge's name.]

Sonic, visibly stumbling backwards: Oh no! How can this be?! There's no way your music could defeat...me...

-Hero of Mobius Sonic the Hedgehog falls to his knees, clenching his feet in an expression of bitter defeat.-

-Tails collapses on top of him, clearly exhausted.-

Surge: Hah! I knew I was better than you in the ways that counted! Pack your bags, drippy, we're going on tour!

Kit, tail wagging: Yes, Ma'am!

-As Kit and Surge surf away on a crowd of adoring fans, Sonic and Tails turn to each other on the ground and share a quick wink.-

Sonic, whispered: Awesome plan, little buddy.

Tails: 😁

#idw sonic #idw sonic spoilers #surge the tenrec #kit the fennec #Miles Tails Prower #sonic the hedgehog #cubot #jewel the beetle #What if Surge had just stolen a sick guitar instead of a deadly weapon AU #aka everyone is slightly less traumatized AU #Sonic and Tails in IDW would absolutely lose in a video game to make a younger kid happy #shortfic by way of a chat post #I just had this really silly idea and it definitely got longer than a chat post should be but w/e #Definitely a lot bit of an OoC crack fic #I'm aware that this is extremely silly yes

40 notes · View notes

jessiesjaded · 10 months

Text

I will say being someone who is almost incapable of doing things in increments is so genuinely draining, like my brain just obsesses and when it's stuck on something I need to do that /Right Now/ or I'm just plainly not going to do it

#I always try to get better about it but like.#my brain has fundamentally always been like this #i have stacks of art from when i was 12 til now #where I started it but since I didnt finish it in one sitting I simply never finished it #and like yeah Ive gotten slightly better with stuff but not much?#When I was writing fic I would 9/10 write and edit the thing in a single sitting #just sot down and obsessively write all day and edit til the crack of dawn #bc I just know when i do an outline and stuff I will abandon it #when I clean I clean it all #When i dusted my brothers filthy room i was like doing this in sections over a few days would probably be best #but i still just went for hours instead until i was exhausted #ive been wanting to clean out the garage for years now #but it will absolutely take at least a week and the notion of stopping and starting frustrates me so i just dont start at all #ugh I dont know its just maddening #i wish someone noticed this pattern when i was a little girl so i could have gotten help and not dropped oit of school but #didnt happen so now i just live like this

2 notes · View notes

hyperfixatingonstephcurry · 2 years

Text

I wish there was a fic about Steph constantly overworking himself and the team banding together to take care of him, but having to do it sneakily because he refuses overt offers of support.

#This would include hiding his phone so he can’t work when he’s exhausted #Bringing him popcorn when he’s stressed out #Getting Raymond to cut his media sessions short after a tough game or just when he’s visibly tired #Staying absolutely silent on the plane if he ever falls asleep cause Steph is a dad and he wakes up at the slightest noise #Distracting him with a dumb game or some childish antics when he’s sad #It kind of freaks the whole teams out when Steph is sad #no one knows what to do but they all want it to stop #so they do everything they can just to make him crack a smile #And on the few occasions where he’s well and truly mad they make sure to keep him from doing anything he’d regret #and they give him someone to rant to so he can cool off generally by provoking him just enough that he goes off #and the list goes on #that’s just all I can think of off the top of my head #i might just have to do it myself #cause I am all about that type of fluff #steph curry #fic idea #stephen curry

14 notes · View notes

dutybcrne · 7 months

Text

Koko.Kae make my brain go brr

#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//Bruhhh; they have not left my brain since Summer Paradise #//I love them #//Crack shipped them even before so that event FUELED me #//Idk; I think he should go spend time with her on Watatsumi #//And perhaps maybe #//Just maybe #//He can get her to screw around a lil' and have Fun instead of Stressing #//Bc he would ABSOLUTELY do for her what he does for Jean in realizing just how busy she is #//You see how concerned and caring for her he was about the Shinrou Casket? YEAH #//Mans would love to help #//All this bc I saw a Mermaid au fic thingy ; and I #//AAAAAAAAA #//It was so CUTE mjdxbgdfkjg

0 notes

chuluoyi · 1 month

Text

yours, indefinitely

- geto suguru x reader

each memorable and meaningful moment shared by the two of you during your journey to parenthood ♡

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact! (yes i can't resist it) pregnancy, a lot of comfort and love, insecurities, hurt/comfort, a dash of crack, soft!geto, massive and absolute fluff !!

note: based on this and this. this... is an idea i got after writing drabbles about soft dad gojo :') you all know this is my first time writing geto and the first time in a while i'm writing a longer fic so i'm having a lot of doubts but i hope you'll enjoy it!! wc. 3k !

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

When you found out that you were five weeks pregnant, you were genuinely conflicted for two reasons— one, it was unexpected as you weren't even married yet, and two, you were anxious about your boyfriend's reaction to the news.

But contrary to your worries and fears, doubts and tears... Geto Suguru marries you. He led you to the city hall almost immediately— and just like that, in the eyes of the law, you were officially husband and wife.

Because he has always known that he wants to share his life with you, and with this newfound responsibility, it only reinforces his conviction that he wants that kind of forever with you.

month two

Your pregnancy wasn't a breeze—no pregnancy is, to be exact—and you had resigned yourself to mornings of throwing up, but you definitely didn't expect that you would get so sick to the point of almost passing out in the bathroom.

You never wanted Suguru to see you like this, but when a strong arm got a hold of you and pulled back your hair, your heart soared regardless.

"Hey, you okay?" Suguru asked, clear worry lined in his eyes. It was five in the morning—he must've been awoken by the ruckus you caused in the bathroom.

When you heaved a breath and nodded, his frown deepened. "Why didn't you call me?"

"N-no, Sugu—" the words barely left your lips before the overwhelming urge to retch hit you again and you doubled over the toilet bowl.

Suguru maintained a steady hold on your body, and not once did he waver even when you puked your guts out. His grip only loosened when you were done, supporting you up and assisting you in rinsing your mouth at the sink.

"Do you feel better?" he asked gently, dabbing your mouth with a tissue. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

"Suguru, you don't have to—" you untangled yourself from him feebly, still feeling faint. "It stinks here—"

"I have to," he reinforced, gaze boring straight at you. "Do you really think a smelly bathroom will stop me?"

“I d-don't want to trouble you...”

Suguru sighed and the next thing you knew, you found yourself being lifted in a princess carry, his hands securely under your knees. Surprised, you let out a yelp. "Suguru! P-put me down!"

"I'm telling you, you should trouble me," he pursed his lips together, face inching closer to yours, his dark eyes captivating, almost drawing you in. "We're in this together, remember?"

And in that very second, the sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and with it a renewed sense of love you had for this man, once just a figure you admired from afar and now, wholly your husband.

"Yeah..." you responded with a soft smile, completely unaware that Suguru cherished seeing that expression on your face more than anything else.

month three

When you reached the third month, you thank all heavenly deities out there that your nausea was getting much better.

But in its place was your outrageous craving requests that more often than not sent Suguru into a daze.

"Wha? Say that again?" he looked at you with twitching eyes, mostly in disbelief. "You can't seriously ask me to... get what?"

"Ice cream with lemon toothpaste flavor," you looked at him with sad puppy eyes, almost resembling that glassy-eyed emoji. "It seemed tasty, Suguru... I want it."

His immediate response was clear this time. "No. Love, that... I doubt that combination even exists."

"Hmph... but baby wants it."

"But—!"

"Or I'll just get the toothpaste and—"

"No! Absolutely no!" okay, this was crazy, but Suguru would figure it out, somehow. "You can't eat toothpaste! I'll get it for you, okay!"

"Teehee~" your small giggle actually made his head spin even further, but if it meant you and your baby's wellbeing, Geto Suguru would cross the roads and did something to get you that non-existent ice cream.

In the end, he settled for mint and orange (because the parlor ran out of lemon) to recreate the nonsense of lemon toothpaste flavor. But when you tasted it, your eyes welled up with tears though.

“This... doesn't taste like toothpaste or lemon,” you sniffled, feeling betrayed. “Suguru, you liar.”

. . . oh, and here goes round two of wild goose chase of recreating edible ice cream for you and the baby. Sigh.

month four

With each passing day, your belly swelled, becoming increasingly prominent and rounder. And you wouldn’t believe it but the pregnancy glow was there—through your husband’s eyes, you looked most radiant, carrying his baby.

And it multiplied more when he saw you interact with his two girls.

"Miss Y/N, is it a boy or a girl?" Nanako inquired, touching your bump, her voice filled with excitement.

"Ah, we haven't found out yet..." you patted her in the head, quite touched that now she cared for you this much too. "What do you think it's going to be, Nanako-chan?"

"Ooh, it has to be a boy! If it's a boy, surely he'll be as handsome as Master Geto!"

Mimiko, ever the calmer of the two, hummed. "Hmm, personally I think it's going to be a girl."

"Ehh? If it's a girl... I guess, yeah— at least she's going to be cute!"

Maybe it was your hormones at play, but your spirits dampened somewhat when you noticed how Nanako leaned more towards the prospect of baby brother. The thought lingered in your mind even later that night on your marital bed, as Suguru spooned you from behind.

“Come to think about it, I think we can find out the gender right about now…” you mused, stroking your belly absentmindedly. “Suguru, do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

Suguru chuckled, placing his warm, bigger hand over yours on your growing tummy. “Hmm, you first. What do you think?”

"Honestly... a girl. At least, if it were up to me, I want a girl though."

"Ah, cute." Suguru felt his smile broaden at the very idea. "Mimiko and Nanako will get an adorable sister to play dress up with."

You nibbled your lower lip. "But you'd want a boy, wouldn't you?"

"Hm? No," he responded almost immediately. "Quite the opposite, actually. I'm with you on this one. A girl would be nice."

"Even when you already have the twins?"

"Another baby girl— what's so bad with that?" Suguru sighed against your neck, his palm still tenderly caressing your belly. "One who will look like you—the woman whom I love the most... what are you worried about?"

One thing you loved about Suguru was his eloquence. His words had the power to persuade you, even when they seemed at odds with your own beliefs. And more often than not, his words were always aimed to make you feel safe.

And right now, you couldn't have loved him more.

. . .

In your next checkup, as if the gods were all granting your wish all this time— you're having a girl.

month five

“Why won’t she kick?” Suguru pressed his ears on your tummy on the bed, brows knitting together.

You grinned. “She was quite lively a little while ago. She's probably resting now.”

Suguru pursed his lips into a pout, snuggling closer to your round belly. “Hmm, little one, can you hear me? Just one kick for papa, please?”

Moments like this were ones you cherished the most. Your husband's love for your unborn child always filled your heart with warmth.

“She’s not responding.” Suguru sat up with a gentle sigh, a hint of disappointment shadowing his expression. Yet, he quickly mustered a warm smile for you. “Tired after bothering mama, huh?”

Suddenly, you let out a hearty chuckle. “You know, Suguru… I think our baby resembles you.”

He blinked in puzzlement. “Eh? How so?”

“She’s so peaceful, hardly causes me any discomfort lately—she’s idyllic, just like you.” You could feel your face getting warm but you just had to say this to your husband.

Suguru was visibly taken aback, but then the hints of pink tinted his face as he smiled. “Well… I’m glad that it’s been a smooth experience for you so far.”

Your heart swelled at his tender, genuine smile. Then, as if on cue, you felt the familiar stirrings and flutter inside—

“Suguru!”

You caught his hand and placed it on your tummy, just in time for your daughter to kick.

Suguru’s eyes sparkled with awe. "Did she just—?"

It was a profound moment for him, feeling the tangible sign of the new life you both had created. And as your laughter filled the room, light and joyful, Suguru knew with unwavering certainty—

He would do everything in his power to protect you and this baby. Who had become his whole world now.

month six

It began as one ordinary day— before came the most horrific incident Suguru never thought would happen to you.

He got a call that you had passed out in the train station. Suguru had never truly known fear until then, feeling every hair on his body stand on end. The details he was provided were frustratingly vague, and he desperately tried not to think the worst.

He was teetering on the edge of a panic attack as he made his way towards the hospital you were brought to. The mere possibility of anything harmful happening to either you or the baby was unbearable. He didn't allow himself to consider any negative outcomes, driven by the need to be by your side.

By the time he arrived, you had regained consciousness, though you were still drifting in and out, clinging onto your swimming consciousness.

"Are you okay? Love, talk to me." Suguru got a hold of your hand as soon as he arrived, voice trembling. "What happened?"

"Suguru..." you managed to reply in feeble voice, still feeling the dull pounding in your temples. You could feel him squeeze your hand tighter. "I-I'm sorry... to m-make you worry..."

"Why are you saying sorry?" Suguru gritted his teeth in frustration. Always putting others first, he loved and sometimes hated that trait of yours. He stroked your hair. "Tell me how you feel. Do you feel better? Or should I call the doctor?"

Seeing how deeply concerned he was for both you and your baby brought a tear to your eyes. "I'm f-fine... just a little dizzy is all."

Once the doctor examined you and determined that you needed to stay in the hospital for a day due to low blood pressure, Suguru was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

"You really, really scared me," he said in a raspy voice. "So many things could've gone wrong. What if you fell into the tracks instead? You would— I —" his voice actually hitched. "I could've lost both of you today."

At his words, a new flood of tears threatened to spill from your eyes, and you couldn't help but sniffle. Suguru immediately comforted you.

“You’re okay, you’re okay… Don’t cry, please.” He cradled your face gently, thinking he had spooked you. “Just rest. I’m here,” and his other hand rubbed your belly for reassurance. “You and the baby are safe.”

Through this, you realized once again just how secure you were, with him.

month seven

You had been taking the prenatal classes lately—Suguru insisted on it because there was nothing he wouldn't spare for you— and the reality once again sank into you that you were going to have a little human to love and care soon.

"You need to hold her like this..." the friendly instructor guided, positioning her hand on the back of the doll's head. "Be gentle when washing the head, and make sure not to scratch her—"

Now you were once again learning how to bathe the baby. It felt complicated at first, but after the fifth session, you were getting the hang of it.

Not the case with Suguru though. He seemed to be genuinely struggling.

"No, sir! You're going to drown her like that!" the instructor gasped in horror, pulling the baby doll out of your husband's grasp. "I'm sorry, but the way you're holding her is too risky! You have to lower her slowly—"

It brought a wide smile on your face. It was a rare sight to see him not being good at what he was doing, so seeing him totally confused like this was refreshing.

"This is... not quite as easy as it looks," he let out a long sigh, still trying to wash the doll's head as gently as he was instructed. "And I can't really tell when I'm being too rough or not."

"Just imagine it's a real baby, how soft you think you can be?" you advised, almost giggling. "Babies are delicate, sort of like... oh! You can think of them as sensitive as Gojo!"

Suguru gave you a look. "If it were a baby with Satoru's face... I might just flip and toss him away."

And yet despite having a hard time for it, Suguru was persistent in this practice. Because no way was he going to miss out bathing his baby.

month eight

"Suguru... we—" you said in one intake of breath, but unable to continue as he crashed his lips into yours.

With skilled hands, Suguru deftly maneuvered the inside of your maternity sleepwear, unclasping your bra and your breasts—now heavy and full of milk—spilling out.

You didn’t mean to drag him into this. You just made one comment about how you thought that he no longer seemed to desire you as much now and Suguru responded by pulling you into a searing kiss, as if to show you that he, in fact, very much still does.

He groped your left breast and your body spasmed as you let out a hitched moan, writhing under him.

“What part of you—” he drawled, eyes blazing with certain electricity, voice deep and low—and you couldn’t help getting even wetter down there. “—that you said I’m not interested in anymore, mama?”

You mewled, feeling so small under him. You could only whine as he stripped you out of your silken undergarments and let you lay there bare, ready for the taking.

In Suguru’s eyes, you were the most divine. The mother of his child couldn't be less than heavenly. Seeing you so swollen and so full, with everything that was his—made him harder than ever possible.

You would learn it the fast way as his lips latched on your neck, nimble fingers worked through your breasts, and then your pussy—

“Ride me,” he commanded, right after turning you into a wet mush three times and tasting your cum—which was still as sweet as ever. He helped you get up and sat on his hardened member, that slid so easily inside you as you let out a whimper.

Gone was your gentle husband—he always turned into another beast entirely in bed.

“Look at you, sitting so pretty for me like this,” Suguru remarked with a meaningful grin as he placed his hands on both sides of your enormous belly.

“Mmnghh!” you scrunched your eyes shut. The sounds you made were completely beyond your will by now. Everything was just overwhelming you. The way his thick cock sheathed itself inside you and made you feel full, and the way your baby twisted and turned inside you at the same time was mind-blowing— and you haven't even started moving yet.

You could already see it already, how much of a mess you were going to be in once this ended.

Suguru noticed the baby’s rambunctious movement too and lightly tapped the skin of your belly, maintaining his sly smile.

“Oh, baby… forgive your papa and mama and buckle up, yeah? It’s going to be a rough ride for a bit.”

And soon, on one fateful morning, you were awoken by signs of labor, followed by your water breaking and full-blown contractions.

Suguru was beside you the entire time, worriedly hovering over you for support. He held you tight, providing comfort as you curled inwards each time intense contraction gripped your womb like a vice, hardening it into a rock-hard mass. Now is the real deal, he thought. Suddenly he was having doubts himself— he was going to become a parent. Both of you are.

Seeing you subjected to that much pain was almost unbearable, and even more so when your pained cries and screams echoed through the room as you brought your baby into the world, but then, then, suddenly—

His baby girl is here. She fit perfectly in his arms, round and snug in her blanket, with the softest black tufts of hair that she inherited from him. She cooed and mewled in her sleep—

—and Geto Suguru thought, nothing—absolutely nothing else mattered the very moment he laid eyes on his beautiful daughter.

"She is so tiny, so precious," Suguru whispered, his finger gently tracing the soft cheeks of the sleeping baby. Leaning on his shoulder, you could only sigh in awe, marveling at the sight of your husband and your new baby.

"Thank you," he turned to you then, eyes brimming with unshed tears and emotions. For giving me a another person to care for and love.

And you were at your happiest, finding yourself falling in love with your husband all over again, knowing well that he would cherish you with everything he had.

Days and months following the birth of your daughter was hectic and eventful.

Nanako and Mimiko had been a really great help around the house, and they adored your baby daughter more than anything, always taking turns to entertain her and make her all giggly, which brought you to another level of happiness.

And most of all, Suguru had taken his new role as a dad very seriously. You remembered him visibly struggling at baby care classes, but now he was a master of diaper changing and baby bathing— and you wouldn't be surprised if he was even better than you by now.

"Suguru, how are you so great at this all of a sudden?" you genuinely wondered with a literal question mark as you watched him washing your daughter in a bubble bath, her laughter filling the room.

"Hard work and perseverance, love," he replied, his tone light but proud. And you snorted when he gave you a wink.

Your daughter had never been shy to cry her heart out at 3 in the morning too, and each time she did, whenever you were about to leave the bed, Suguru would gently hold you back with a raspy voice, murmuring, "I'll get her. Go back to sleep."

He was the best husband a woman could ask for. Throughout the five months of your postpartum, he always made sure that you stayed hydrated, had a lot of rest and consumed nutritious food to replenish your strength. He always took over the baby-rearing duties whenever possible. You were treated no less than a princess, and honestly you were ever so grateful.

And so this time, despite his willingness, you got up from the bed and went to the baby's room. And the sight there caught your heart—

"There, there..." Suguru's voice was thick with sleep, yet he rocked your daughter back and forth with gentle patience. "Do you want to change your blanket? Is it not comfy for you?"

Your heart softened, melted—perhaps even fluttered away with the wind, turning into mush. When you first discovered a year ago that you were going to have a baby, you could never have anticipated that this was the life you would find yourself in.

Suguru opted to switch the blanket for a new one, but as you watched him fold and unfold it several times, confusion evident on his face, you decided it was time to step in.

"Here, you do it like this," your sudden appearance startled him, as you gently took the fabric away from him and wrapped your fussy daughter in it. "Looks like I finally found something you're still not great at," you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

He was about to usher you back to the bedroom until you said that. "Heh."

You loved this life, and he too wouldn't trade it for the world. In the quiet tranquility of dawn, after both of you had successfully put your baby back to sleep, you spoke, "Thank you... and I love you, Suguru."

But he thought— you shouldn't have to thank him for anything, because after all, Geto Suguru lives for two princesses in his life; you and his baby daughter.

And after this, all that was left was giving you the wedding celebration of your dreams, one that both of you had been setting aside for a while now.

3K notes · View notes

bestshipsmackdown · 1 year

Text

I’m not familiar with this fandom however I absolutely agree! Every “love triangle” is immediately solved with polyamory.

Peeta and Gale don’t need to fight over Katniss. Edward and Jacob don’t need to fight over Bella! The entire shenanigans of miraculous ladybug could be solved if they all just dated each other. I’m a big fan of Lukadrienette for that very reason.

#is this controversial for someone encouraging the ships to beat each other out?#probably #crackships are absolutely valid and beautiful #if I hadn’t placed a no crossover rule we would definitely being going for it #because I ship Shiro (voltron) with Ingenium (BNHA)#because honestly Tensei is so good and has best big bro energy #and Shiro has reluctant dad energy #and together they have the best hugs you could get from two people #they’re the hug ship #and yes I have a crack fic in the works for that entire scenario

1 note · View note

crimsonbubble · 8 months

Note

Nah, but imagine the reader being a Colonel all serious and shii-

And Ghost is just like:

"Just one chance bro pleassseee😩"

"Let me be a barracks bunny only for this mfker😩😩😩"

cw. suggestive/crack fic, gn!reader, colonel!reader, very slight abuse of power, simon has a praise kink *not proofread, just pure horny

[I love reading cod men using their rank against reader,, BUT READER USING TJEIR RANK AGAISNT COD MEN???? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP 💳💥💳💥💳💥]

unhinged ghost would absolutely love to be your personal barracks bunny

ghost literally doing the absolute most when he knows that you're gonna be stopping by the base

ofc you catch onto him

he's being so oblivious to his own secrecy

calling him into your office just to see him again

doesn't even matter what you say to him, he'll hang off of every word like a moth to a flame

praising him with stuff like;

"ya did well today, simon."

"atta boy, there we go."

giving him a firm pat on the back as you pass him in the hallway

only you are allowed to call him simon, he nearly ripped a recruits arm off after they teased him about it

making him run little errands for you, just so you can praise him and see his eyes go wide and sparkly

being paired up with him for a mission and ghost is losing himself

he's all but two seconds away from just ripping his mask off and kissing you

does all the heavy lifting, meaning he's killing everyone for you

imagine a mission going slightly awry and having to hide away for a quick second til things calmed down

just grabbing his hand and tugging him into a random dark room

being forced to stand so close together, your scent is making him dizzy

patting his cheek to bring him back down to earth and saying "can't have you leavin' me just yet, still got a mission on hand."

ghost merely nodding and going along with you

but on the inside, he's screaming and tearing his pants off

would be on his knees for you in a fraction of a second

literally loves being a recipient of your praises yet he denies having a praise kink

4K notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Okay so the poll results were for an OC captain, though it was close enough that I still hesitate to name him in the canon of the fic.

I’m also going to be taking my time fleshing out his character because it’s been a while since I made an OC. So please be patient while I add tidbits here and there to build his character.

CW: uhhhhh smut. Filthy smut. So much smut.

more importantly, descriptions of scars from past torture (Nikto)

Nikto beats you and Nova twice out of three rounds — but that’s no surprise. The man moves like a machine. Even against two opponents he controls the battlefield like a chess master. Neither you nor Nova take it to heart, especially since he always gives you both advice at the end, helping you to improve.

He’s a great partner, a great teammate; you’re sure to show him your appreciation after sparring with a kiss to his nose-plate. His hands spasm on yours as he helps you unwind your wraps, gloved thumb sweeping over your bare palm.

“You did good today,” he says, voice rough and accent thick. He must be pissed about earlier still, when Ghost and Soap threw your matches with them.

“So did you,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks.

You damn near melt. Nikto has an open invitation to your room, but his is a sacred place, only for him unless otherwise specified. That he’s asking you to come to his tonight…

“Absolutely,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I just need to see the captain first. Okay?”

He grunts in understanding, eyes flicking to the door the 141 left through earlier. He mutters something in Russian — some insult about goats and mothers you think.

“Yeah, exactly,” you reply, voice dropping with simmering irritation.

A good spar with him and Nova has helped ground you a bit, but it hasn’t helped the anger. You don’t spar any of your team with anger; they don’t deserve.

Luckily, you and your captain worked something out a while ago when you’re feeling a bit… aggressive.

“Cap?” You call, still holding Nikto’s hand. “Could I stop by for a nightcap later?”

His eyes flash, a sinful twist to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, babygirl. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Over his shoulder, you see Nova arch her eyebrows and Keegan grin wicked into his water bottle. Gossip fiends.

“Showers. Now,” the cap says, slapping them both on the ass. “Double time. I need to have a word with Price still.”

—

Long after the sun has gone down, you’re standing outside your captain’s door. Take a breath. Remind yourself of your mantra. He wants you, always will, and he’s going to take care of you.

Then loosen your shoulders, unboxing all the frustration and aggression you set aside earlier. Feel it burn through you, make your hands twitch in and out of fists.

One more inhale, and then you shove the door open.

“There you are,” he rumbles. “C’mere.”

You flash your teeth, “No.”

He tilts head back and forth, cracking his neck. “Alright then.”

There’s no real fight. You’re not looking to get away or actually hurt him. And he’s not looking to actually make you submit. That’s not the point of this game.

He strides across the room and shoves you back, pins your shoulder to the wall. You grip at his forearm, nails scraping, and squirming as the hot, hard length of his body squishes you flat.

“Settle,” he orders.

“Fuck you,” you snarl back, nipping his lip.

He growls, tangling a hand in your hair and tipping your head back. Leaves a searing trail of kisses down your throat, bites a bruise into your collarbone. You wriggle and fuss all the while, safely held still and supported by his hands and body.

“Brat,” he rasps in your ear.

“I’m not,” you snap.

“Oh, yes you are, babygirl,” he replies, a mean smirk on his flushed face. “But that’s alright, I like you bad.”

He pulls you from the wall, bullies you onto the bed. You try to grab at him, get him under you. He doesn’t indulge like he normally would. Pins you on your back so that you can keep fighting, yanking at your wrists in his firm grip, pushing your hips up to grind into his as if trying to flip you both.

He slots his hips between your thighs, positions just his knees under your ass so that your back is arched, shoulders on the mattress. Limits your mobility, but that doesn’t stop you from kicking at air, making half-angry, half-desperate noises in the back of your throat.

“Gonna say please like a good girl?” He teases.

“No,” you hiss back.

He has the audacity to chuckle, which just riles you up more. (It’s supposed to). You curse as he works a hand beneath your shirt, palms at your bare breasts and pinches your nipples until they ache. You gasp like a pornstar, surprised and turned on.

“Pretty noise,” he coos. “Do it again.”

When he twists, you mewl, face immediately burning up as you renew your “efforts” to get away. All it does is make the treatment rougher than if you just laid still and took it, but that’s what you want, what feels good. A little edge to the pleasure as adrenaline and energy electrify you from head to toe.

He grinds against you, cotton of your loose shorts sticking against your soaked cunt. Christ you were turned on before you even barged in. Now you’re fucking throbbing for it.

“Gimme,” you grit out, rocking against him. Gears successfully shifted from physically taking control to just ordering him around.

“Give you what, brat?” He goads, slapping your pussy. The thin fabric muffles the sting, but it sends a white-hot ache through you that makes your eyes roll. “My cock? You think you deserve it?”

Another slap. You cry out, notice the sly look on his face when he notices that you’ve soaked through your shorts.

“Yes,” you reply, all confidence and reckless arrogance.

He yanks his underwear down to mid thigh, thick cock springing up to smack lewdly against his toned stomach. Precum smears over the pale scars there, sticks in the trail of groomed hair there.

“Yeah?” He growls. “Alright then.”

He yanks the crotch of your shorts aside (you hear stitches pop) and then he’s plunging into you. It’s too much all at once and you cry as much, knees squeezing around his tattooed ribs.

“Fuck.” His voice is shredded, so rough and low you feel it more than hear it. He lets your wrists go to grip at your ass, grinding deeper. Can feel the fat head of his cock bullying at your cervix, his favorite passtime while you adjust to the thick base of him.

“How does that feel, babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear. “You needed daddy’s cock, huh? Needed it to set you right again?”

You whimper out a curse at him, gripping at his biceps. He croons mockingly, thumb slipping between your bodies to press at your clit. Not rubbing or grinding, but just pressing. Just the right amount to make you sweat and pant, start trying to squirm to get any friction at all.

He lets you — could stop you if he wanted, or pull away entirely — but he likes winding you up like this. Likes seeing all that vicious energy turned to seeking pleasure from him.

“Fucking move,” you try to snarl, but your voice breaks midway through and comes out more pleading than you’d like.

“What was that, babydoll? Are you talking to me?” He teases, rolling his hips.

Your mouth falls open, a moan ripping from your chest, deep and needy.

“Daddy, move,” you cry, voice going up in pitch.

“There’s my brat.”

He pushes one of your knees up against your chest and slams into you. You scream and he doesn’t even try to cover your mouth, whispering filth as he tilts your hips for the best angle with his other hand. Fucks into you deep and rough, grinning at the obscenely wet noises every time he plunges into you.

Can practically feel him fucking your cervix open to get just that little bit deeper. Licks his lips when he sees the little bump in your stomach. You give as good as you get, squeezing down tight, bouncing to meet him, nails scoring lines down his back and shoulders.

“Gonna ask daddy to make you cum?” He goads.

“Earn it,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls out, flips you onto your stomach while you’re still dizzy with emptiness. Hikes your hips up and sinks into you like coming home. Your knees almost give out but that’s fine by him, he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up all on his own, using you like a noisy little toy for his own benefit.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine, feeling overwhelmed, pleasured tears gathering in your eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Daddy…”

“Feel like being good yet?” He asks. A large, rough hand circles that back of your neck and pins you face down to the mattress.

“N-no,” you whine, fight gone out of you now that you’re getting exactly what you want.

Fuck it feels so, so good. Every inch bullying you wide open and loose, so wet you’re dripping down your own thighs, wetting his ball as they slap against you. You feel split open and pinned, unable to do anything but take it, tortured stupid on ecstasy. He licks a stripe up your back before pressing you down prone, ankles locked around yours to keep you open and accessible.

“S’alright, doll, don’t need to be good to be mine.”

He’s barely pulling out halfway before ramming home now. You can barely get a breath in, the weight of him pressing whatever resistance was left right out of you.

“Daddy, daddy,” you sob. “Fuck, I wan’ it.”

“Want it, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, pressing your face into your arms. Cant your hips just that little bit to get him abusing that bundle of nerves.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He coos. “Did daddy find your little sweet spot?”

A series of short, ruthless thrusts right there, making incoherent, desperate noises fall from your mouth. Before you realize it, he’s wedged a hand beneath your hips and has two fingers toying with your poor, neglected clit.

“‘M gonna… f-fuck, fuck,” you whine, writhing (or at least trying to) against him. Not sure if you’re trying to urge him on or get away. Doesn’t matter, he’s in charge, has been since the beginning. “Daddy, I wanna…”

“Whenever you want, babygirl,” he replies, voice going all warm and gooey. Your chest hitches. “Squeeze around me nice and tight. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Didn’t realize that was what you needed, but you fucking scream as you clench down around him, stars bursting behind your closed eyes. He fucks you through it, tapping against your g-spot again and again until you dissolve into a weak, wet whimpers.

“Daddyyyy,” you whine.

And that sets him off, flooding you with heat. He loses control for a second as his hips jerk, pounding brutally into your oversensitive, swollen pussy. Makes a few tears finally slip down, soaking into the sheets along with your drool. The sound of him groaning as he cums makes you spasm around him again, a little aftershock that milks the last of his release.

“That’s it, easy,” he groans, brushing kisses over your trembling shoulders. “Easy, doll.”

He lies over you for a few minutes, letting you feel him there. Right there with you. Breathing and recovering, holding you through the endorphin rush. When you squirm a bit, he eases off you, cock slipping out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you, glassy eyes fluttering.

“C’mere,” he soothes, tugging you in. Lying on his side, he hitches one of your thighs up over his hip, tucks your arms between your chests and rests his stubbly chin on your temple. You splay your fingers over his peck, over the bold, dark symbol for SpecGru. Feel his heart settling back into rhythm and sigh, snuggling in.

The hormone drop is a monster on your emotions, often leaves you shivery and lonely, a little sick in your own body. First time you did this with him ended in tears, expecting him to get up and leave. He didn’t, never has, but you both learned that as much physical contact as possible in the aftermath eases the comedown away from a total crash.

“You did so well, babygirl,” he whispers, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach without dislodging you. “Such a good girl. Even if you think you’re being bad.”

You flush, hide your face against his neck. He chuckles, honeybalm on your soul. Can feel his hand start to move, then pause as he remembers that you can’t handle that stimulation right after sex. So he just squeezes, slow and gentle, helps get you back in your body.

“I still want you,” he assures, echoing your mantra back at you. “Always will. You’re mine.”

You outline a heart shape onto his forearm, not quite able to speak yet. He recognize the feeling though and gently guides your face up to place a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Love you, too, babygirl. Ready to clean up?”

You nod. He eases you up, lets you cling onto his hand as he walks you to the en suite. Fills you a glass of cool water to sip on while he gets the shower running. Turns his back while you use the restroom and wash your hands, then guides you into the hot water.

You lean into him, near boneless, as he washes you, calloused palms with soap instead of a cloth. Then sits still, hands on your hips, while you return the favor. This part is one of the most important for you, getting to freely return touch.

(Simon hardly ever let you touch, especially in the aftermath. Sure, you could scratch and grip at him during sex, but during foreplay it was all part of his dom persona that you couldn’t just touch at will. And afterwards… well. It’s not like he didn’t do aftercare. He did! But the almost formulaic warm cloth wipe down, glass of water, doze for a bit before he left was not… not ideal. Not like this.)

Your captain hums, eyes half-lidded but trained on you, while you smooth your palms over the firms planes of his muscles. Fingers tracing over tattoos and scars. Squishing and patting at the healthy layer of tissue over his stomach and thighs. Lets you nuzzle and kiss his soft cock, even though it makes his fingers twitch with oversensitivity.

Squeezes when you lace fingers together to stretch his arm out, inspecting the lines your nails carved into him.

“M’okay, baby,” he says before you can ask. “Feels good.”

You similarly assure him over the bruises on your wrists and hips, smiling and leaning up to kiss his jaw.

When the shower is over, he dries you off, playfully ruffling your hair just to kiss the pout off your lips. He dresses you in one of his shirts and a spare pair of your own joggers, found in his duffel.

You sit with him for a while longer still, enjoying how he lets himself relax once he knows you’re taken care of. He lies with his head on your chest, your fingers fluffing his hair, while the two of you watch an episode of some stupid show Keegan got the rest of the team into.

Only when it’s over does he ask if you’re ready to go to Nikto’s. If you wanted to stay, you could. Nikto would understand. But you’re looking forward to a night with your quiet Russian while the other three have a little movie night.

At the door, you kiss your captain goodnight. Hug and kiss Keegan and Nova as you pass them in the hall headed to his room. Nova makes a point of kissing one of the bruises on your wrist, while Keegan whispers that he loves you.

You pad to the first door in the hall, where Nikto has stationed himself as the team guard dog. You tap gently at the door, a pre-determined pattern to let him know who it is.

The door cracks open, one startling blue eye peering from the darkness.

“Evening, Nik,” you coo.

A hand reaches out and gently yanks you inside. And then next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in thick arms devoid of any usual covering. You feel smothered, in a good way.

“Love,” he rasps in Russian into your hair.

You hum in return. Place your palms flat on his abdomen. The muscles clench, you pause as you realize his abs, impressive as they are, feel too defined. He needs water. Taking mental note, you draw your hands carefully around, feeling the raised bumps of wicked scars. Make sure he can track exactly where and how you’re touching until your arms are wrapped around him in a return hug.

“Smell good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” You giggle. “Showered just for you.”

He snorts, then scoops you up. You make a delighted noise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the room. Of course his navigation is impeccable, even in pitch black. He lays you down on the bed, but before he can crawl up with you, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re dehydrated.”

He makes an annoyed noise, sounds like he’s about to protest. You shush him with a quick peck to his chest.

“Get a glass please? I could use some water myself.”

Which has him instantly moving. You politely turn away as the bathroom light flicks on, the water runs. Can hear him chug two entire glasses before he fills it one final time. The light turns off again. The bed dips as he returns, presses the cool edge gently to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur, sipping about a quarter of it to appease him before he sets aside for you on a bedside table.

And then he gets what he really wants, stripping you down and tucking you in like a nesting bird. Practically on top of you while you’re still reeling from how much skin you can feel. Even during intimacy, he tends to stay clothed or mostly clothed. But right now all you can feel is a pair of underwear against your bare ass. Everywhere else it’s miles of warm skin, uncovered muscle and texture of scars.

“This is nice,” you coo. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

You wiggle around until you’re chest to chest. Start with his hands. Kiss each smooth fingertip, prints flayed off. Then his palms, the divots from nails driving through. Flip them over to kiss his scarred knuckles, smile at the way he twitches, flexing them outward like he’s trying not to close his hand.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You kiss his wrists, his forearms, to his collarbone. You’ve peeked a blue-black tattoo there before. Stars and the start of something that might be religious. Spend a little extra time there, tongue peeking out. He shifts; you take it as a sign of discomfort and move on.

“Here next,” he says when you dip to go to his chest.

He guides your face up his neck, where you press long (but chaste) kisses until you bump his jaw. And realize that’s all skin too.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Can I…?”

“Yes.”

You feather your lips along his fresh-shaved jaw, the nicked scars on his chin. Then up, ignoring the wicked scar along his cheek. Breathe against his temple, feeling dizzy with the trust he’s showing you.

“I love you,” you whisper, continuing along to his nose, twice broken and poorly set each time. A line over one nostril where a piercing was ripped out. He makes a noise in his throat, think he might be having trouble speaking again. Don’t mind.

He lets you get down to his mouth, where a particularly twisted scar warps part of his upper lip away from his teeth. You think that if you saw it in the light, his canine would be visible. His lower lip is uneven too, like a misaligned seam.

You don’t pay any special attention to any of it, focused more on reacquainting yourself with how your mouth fits with his. He doesn’t lead, doesn’t rush or pull or press. But there’s tension all along his body, everywhere you touch. You don’t ask for more than a chaste kiss, and when you pull away, you tilt your forehead gently against his.

“Still okay?” You ask.

“Still okay.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #the captain #cod nikto #the captain x reader #specgru reader #former 141 reader #nikto x reader

1K notes · View notes