#all while under the guise of helping me
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I hate when there is anger inside my body. I am very small and my feelings are very big :(
#it really just does not matter what I do huh#it’s spring break. I was up at 9:30 and happened to stay in bed for a bit and take my time showering and stuff#you know? cuz I’m on break? And can do whatever the Hell i want?#but apparently I was ‘sleeping all day’ according to my mom#and then she reminded me to wash my hair the next time I shower. which is code for ‘your hair looks like shit’#it’s like that one bit from friends where they’re having a funeral for the geller’s grandmother#and Monica’s mom is like “can you imagine being criticized for every little thing you do?#it’s amazing that I grew up to be the life-affirming person I am”#the joke being that she criticizes everything Monica does and is constantly trying to “fix” her#always criticizing her outfit and hair and life choices#like. that’s exactly my mother. and guess what? I fucking hate her!#and—this is a horrible thing to say I know—sometimes I wish she would just hit me#because violence and bruises are easier to spot than the covert belittling and the slow chipping away at my self esteem#all while under the guise of helping me#as if she isn’t insulting me and treating me like a mini clone of her or a goddamn toy to entertain her#she never wanted me she wanted a dress up doll#she doesn’t want nano she never wanted nano she wants a perfect girl who marries a perfect guy#and has perfect grandbabies#she’s tried to strip me of my boricua heritage in unassuming little ways#she’s tried to strip me of my desires and interests and emotions#she’s tried to ignore my trauma and logic away my mental illness#she has tried to destroy every part of me everything that makes me what I am#and she is the victim. the one with the woefully annoying stupid disobedient daughter#because i have resisted her attempts to mold me into something that I’m not#vent#im just so tired of trying to be the person she wants me to be and never being good enough#I’m tired of feeling trapped#I’m tired of feeling like an awful person#I’m so sick of her
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This is such a harmful sentiment to push considering that you don’t necessarily have to be “attractive,” (beauty is subjective, yada yada) in order for men to want to harm you in the slightest… like man, what…
#the lady talks about being followed and harassed and so on as if every woman and girl in the world regardless of their age and#‘good looks’#hasn’t experienced this and will continue to#I hate when these girls especially ones who are conveniently attractive talk about stuff like this under the guise of speaking for all#women while x-ing out most women#this easily leads into the realm of ‘you’re too ugly/fat to be assaulted ANYWAY-‘#talk that I see spread by misogynists and bird brained women like it’s such a natural thing to even say it’s actually rly scary#especially when it comes to the assault shit which is usually about power and control anyway#they don’t care what you look like#you could be covered up head to toe and someone would try to hurt you just because#I hate when women like this go online thinking that they said something open their mouths I really do#rambling#tw assault#got dudes in the comments going ‘she’s not even pretty anyway she’s like a 4 out of 10’#completely missing the message (as if they care) and see#these are the kinds of people that stuff like this attracts#stuff like this coming out of a woman’s mouth especially is so dangerous#I don’t think I’m the most good looking person in the world and I’ve been followed sm times I had to run away from a guy once and luckily#my bus was right fucking there!!!#then the guy who was harassing me years ago at a bus stop and forced me to hug him and touched my butt and no one else was around to help#me…#and he kept on trying to get me to go back to his apartment around the corner like that was so#the man who followed me into the store as I was shopping and I noticed that he kept on staring at me#then tried to holla and he looked way older than me and I think he was a pastor or something too he had a nice car and tried to get me to#come with him#sm more incidents over the years like this is crazy pls don’t say stuff like this and act like it’s normal#someone in the comments said that people like the woman in the video think that being pretty will free them from the patriarchy and like…#YEAH 😭#it’s so obvious too lmfao#these be the same women calling themselves ‘girls girls’’
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writing this in the tags bc i need to articulate it somewhere that isn’t to my mother on the phone
#I work at a firm w seven (well. six.) partners#so they are all technically my bosses but I rlly only do work for two /maybe/ four of them#i was hired under the guise of being my one boss’ like. protege.#as in when he retires I’ll take over his practice. and also he’s so busy that i could help some of that now.#his area of practice is like. so complex and huge that it isn’t something u learn in months. maybe not even years.#but atp what happens is he meets directly w the clients and then i do literally everything else.#which is fine. except for two things.#1) he has now started joking about how he’s going to be ‘the face’ of it while i do everything#which wouldn’t bother me so much if he was Paying Me For It.#bc 2) he’s only allocating HALF. my hourly rate for those type of clients#I spend. idk prob 70% of my billable hours on his clients. and he’s only allocating half my hourly for them.#and im just like. I wasn’t hired to be ur assistant 😭 im an attorney too 😭 teach me???????????#some days when I really sit and think abt it it just makes me want to switch to directly report to my other boss#i looooove working for my other boss. and i rlly enjoy his area of practice too!!!!#and he like. has basic respect for me as an attorney 😭#anyway idk. it gets more frustrating the more responsibility i take on………….#thoughts inspired by good boss apologizing to me today for overstepping me while talking to a client#and referring to it as being like my bad boss 😭#not bad. he isn’t a bad boss. i just. idk KENFKWNFKSNDK
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So I did finally get the steam client running. Had an interesting issue where the game kept opening windowed instead of full screen, with everything else stretched to a weird unusable resolution. Had to go into the app data and delete a file to remedy that. Then had some issues getting my GUI profiles properly copied over (and still need to do some interface tweaking, because the resolution on my new computer is different from my old one).
But I had the graphics turned up above potato and loaded into Mek-sha and didn’t lag? And we did Watchdog and I could actually see the mechanics happening in real time instead of like two full seconds after they happened?
#i nearly had several meltdowns while trying to get this all set up#I’m so tired of having a brain that is bad#and having technology that conspires against me under the guise of being ✨helpful✨#anyway I may have a choice to dps instead on this team if I want#and maybe I’ll try that?#since frenzy sometimes seems like she prefers to heal#and no one ever lets me dps real things anymore#I was vaguely nim-capable on like 2.5 specs pre-7.0#and then because there’s kind of a healer shortage among the people I raid with#I was sort of boxed in to always healing#and don’t get me wrong I love healing#but I can’t get better at dps if I don’t do it
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I miss Sidereus. :( Truly one of my OCs of all time.
#bored#unbury your gays#throwback to 2019 when cinna/sidereus content was all I could write. they were so good though. I love doomed gothic romance#what if I was the world's loneliest ghost drifting in and out of existence observing humans from a position of semi-omniscient detachment#seeking connection with those in crisis desperate for someone to acknowledge my pain#but they could only reject me because they feared me too much#and I appeared to you while you were mourning your recently deceased older brother whom you idolized#and you feared me but were too curious to push me away so I entrusted to you the pocket watch my soul was tethered to#and as we got to know each other I found in you the things I could never have in life#and you found in me a way to understand your suffering#and over time I manipulated you into studying necromancy under the guise of helping you resurrect your brother#but really it was me I wanted you to resurrect so we could properly be together#but I could never forgive myself for corrupting you and you were too consumed by your grief to love me the way I wanted you to anyway#haha just kidding... unless...?
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So why do you hate the advertising industry?
Hokay so.
Let me preface this with some personal history. It's not relevant to the sins of the advertising industry perse but it illustrates how I started to grow to hate it.
I wanted to be a veterinarian growing up, but to be a vet you basically have to be good enough to get into medical school. I do not have the math chops or discipline to make it in medical school. I went into art instead, and in a desperate attempt to find some commercial viability that didn't involve moving to California, I went into graphic design.
I've been a graphic designer for about seven or eight years now and I've worn a lot of hats. One of them was working in a print shop. Now, the print shop had a lot of corporate customers who had various ad campaigns. One of them was Gate City Bank, which had a bigass stack of postcards ordered every couple months to mail to their customers.
Now, paper comes from Dakota Paper, and they make their paper the usual way. Somewhere far, far from our treeless plain there is a forest of tall trees. These trees are cut down and put on big fossil fuel burning trucks and hauled to a paper mill that turns them into pulp while spewing the most fowl odors imaginable over the neighboring town and loads the pulp up with bleach to give it a nice white color.
Then the paper is put on yet another big truck and hauled off to the local paper depot, then put on another big truck and delivered to my print shop, where I turned the paper into postcards telling people to go even deeper into debt to buy a boat because it's almost summer. The inks used are a type of nasty heat sensitive plastic that is melted to the surface of the paper with heat. Then the postcards are put on yet ANOTHER truck and sent to the bank, which puts them on ANOTHER truck and finally into the hands of their customers, who open their mail and take one look at the post card and immediately discard it.
Heaps and heaps and literal hundreds of pounds of literal garbage created at the whim of the marketing team several times a year. And thats just one bank in one city.
I came to realize very quickly that graphic design was the delicate art of turning trees into junk mail.
And wouldn't you know it there are a TON of companies that basically only do junk mail. Many of them operate under the guise of a "charity," sending you pictures of suffering children or animals and begging for handouts and when they get those handouts the executives take a nice fat cut, give some small token amount to whatever cause they pay lip service to, and then put the rest of the cash right back into making more mailers. "Direct mail marketing" they call it.
Oh but maybe it's not so bad, you can advertise online after all. Now that there's decent ad blocker out there and better anti-virus ads usually don't destroy your computer anymore just by existing.
Except now when I search for the exact business I want on Google it's buried under three or four different "promoted search items" tricking me into clicking on them only to shoot themselves in the foot because I searched for the specific result I wanted for a reason and couldn't use those other websites even if I felt like it.
And now we have advertising on YouTube and on every streaming service, forcing more and more eyes onto the ad for the brand new Buick Envision that parks itself because you're too stupid to do it on your own.
Oh thats ok maybe I'll get Spotify premium and go ad free and listen to some podcasts- SIKE we have the hosts of your show doing the song and dance now. Are you depressed and paranoid from listening to my true crime podcast about murdered and mutilated teenagers? That's ok, my sponsor Better Help can keep you sane enough to stay alive and spend more money.
It's gotten so terrible that now you have content farms, huge hubs of shell companies that crank out video after video to get more and more precious clicks. Which if the videos were innocuous maybe that wouldn't be so awful except now you have cooking hacks that can actually burn your house down and craft hacks that can electrocute you being flung into your eyes at the speed of mach fuck so some slimy internet clickbait jockey doesn't need to get a real job.
It of course goes without saying that animals are also relentlessly exploited by clickbait companies that will put them in compromising situations on purpose to create a fake fishing hack video or even just straight up killing them for sport by feeding small animals to a pufferfish that rips them apart for the camera.
And all of this, ALL of this doesn't even touch how adveritising is the death of art in general. Queer topics, any kind of interesting art, any kind of sex or substance use topics are scrubbed clean and hidden at the behest of advertisers.
Sex education, a nude statue, topics such as racism or sexism or bigotry in general have tags purged or hidden from search, even life saving information about SDTs or drug use, because if someone saw that and complained then Verizon might sell fewer tablets and we can't fucking have that.
Conservative talking heads often bitch and moan that they're being censored on social media. The stupid part is, they're right! They are being censored! But it's not by a woke mob, it's by ATT and Coca Cola not wanting their adspace sharing screen time with their stupid fucking opinions.
However, they won't ever figure that out, because the talking heads they get their marching orders from like Tucker and Jones ALSO rely on the sweet milk flowing from the sponsorship teat and they aren't about to turn on their meal ticket so they have to come up with even stupider shit to say for the train to continue rolling.
I managed to rant this far without even getting into the ads I see for the beauty industry. The other day a botox ad described wrinkles as "moderate to severe crows feet" as if wrinkles are a symptom of a fucking serious disease! Like having a flaw in your skin is a medical problem that you need thousands of dollars of literal botulism toxin to fix! I was incandescent with anger.
Advertising is a polluting, censoring, anti educational and anti art industry at it's very core. It destroys human connections, suppresses human thought and makes us hate our own bodies. It ads no value, actively detracts from value, and serves no real purpose and I believe it should be almost if not entirely banned.
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pervy old man logan save me pervy old man logan save meeeeee
─ Pervy! Old man Logan Howlett x fem! reader || WC: 1.4k
CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Age gap implied [Logan is canon age, reader is 21+]. Bit of flirting (if you squint). Logan is a little pervy (duh). Wandering eyes. Panty stealing. Panty sniffing. Upskirting. Lewd thoughts. Bit of voyeurism. Teasing. Hints of degradation. Use of pet names (hun, darlin', princess). Mutual Masturbation (sorta). Groping. Clitoral stimulation. Possible dub-con at the end (reader is under the influence). Mentions of reader's clothing: skirts, dresses, sexy attire due to working at a club. Reader is hinted to be a little naive.
Be soooo glad that I love you. (And I do, very much). This is for the real ones that just want to fuck that nasty old man, and this is a bit different than what I usually write, but I had a thought and I ran with it. Hope you all enjoy this little crazy piece!
pervy! old man Logan who finds you working as a bottle girl in a downtown club after he drops off a bachelorette party, drawn to you when you step outside for some fresh air on your break. While chatting with him, you rant about your unfavorable living situation, and he proposes you take the spare room in his apartment under the guise of convenience and keeping you safe. You take it, not thinking of anything besides getting much-needed help
pervy! old man Logan who doesn’t mind having you around in his apartment. You’re quiet, neat, and not to mention a sight for sore eyes. He finds his gaze wandering over your figure when you walk around the space you share with him. Of course, he does that when you aren’t paying attention.
pervy! old man Logan who wakes up a bit early to make some coffee and breakfast for the both of you. He stands over the stove and gestures to your mug on the counter filled with freshly brewed coffee made just the way you like.
pervy! old man Logan who converses with you in the morning, asking how you slept and your plans for the day. He uses it as a good excuse to look at your chest, the stiff peaks of your nipples poking through the material of your baggy t-shirt.
pervy! old man Logan who approves of the skimpy outfits you wear for your work shifts at the club. Your attire consisted of latex shorts and tight bodysuits that leave nothing to the imagination, and he’s always looking at you, ready to give you the praise and approval you seek.
“Yeah darlin’, it fits like a glove. Turn around for me, gotta get the whole view.”
pervy! old man Logan who drives you to and from work for your shifts. Late at night, he waits for you outside and leans against the side of his limo, smoking a cigar as he does. When you step out and stride towards him with a sway in your hips after a good shift, you lean against him for a hug. He follows through, squeezing your waist with one arm, fingers almost sneaking towards your ass.
pervy! old man Logan who looks at your thighs shifting as he drives. His palm itches to touch your skin, to squeeze you hard enough to bruise and leave his mark. But he refrains, tightening his grip on the steering wheel instead.
pervy! old man Logan who watches you change from the gap of your bedroom door, ogling at your bare back as you walk around your room, finding something to wear. You finally turn, giving Logan a nice view of your bare breasts, nipples stiff from the cool air. He can feel his slacks getting tighter just from looking at you, his mouth craving for a taste of you.
pervy! old man Logan who offers to help put on your shoes when you’re wearing dresses or skirts. He’ll place your foot on his thigh and tie your heeled boots while your hands are on his shoulders for balance. He doesn’t mind helping you out so long as he gets a good glimpse at the underwear you’re wearing for the day.
pervy! old man Logan who teases you and plays with the edges of your clothes frequently. You’ll walk beside him doing grocery runs or passing by him when you reach for a cup in the overhead cabinets in the kitchen. He takes it as an opportunity to intentionally lift your bottoms to prove how provocative your clothes are. Blatantly whistling at your ass coming to view, you smack his hand away and grow flustered. He only chuckles at your reaction.
“C’mon, hun. You don’t gotta get all shy on me. It’s not my fault these skirts are just too damn short.”
pervy! old man Logan who takes your panties when he’s doing the laundry, admiring the thin pieces of fabric you concealed under your clothes. The first time he found your underwear in his batch of laundry, he ran his fingers over the gusset, bringing it up to his nose and taking a whiff. He stuffs the pair into his pocket, saving it for later to wrap over his length when you’re asleep.
pervy! old man Logan who knows you get yourself off in the late hours of the night or early in the morning when you think he’s sleeping. He can hear you through the thin walls of the apartment, his heightened senses working overtime to catch the muted whimpers you release as you touch yourself. He tries to imagine what position you’re in, if you were completely naked or still had your underwear on, lying on your back or your face smushed into the pillow, arching your spine. He brings a hand cup himself, jerking off in tandem to your moans, wishing it were your fingers curling around his cock instead.
pervy! old man Logan who brings you home after you’ve had too many drinks at work, a result of serving a bachelor party and keeping them entertained with tequila shots. It paid off. You got a hefty tip at the end of the night, evident from the giddy expression on your face when you exit the front doors. Logan is waiting for you outside the club like usual, holding your figure steady against him as you giggle into his chest from your wobbly steps.
pervy! old man Logan who keeps a hand on your knee the entire drive back to the apartment. You didn’t seem to mind it this time, staring off into the window and watching the streetlights pass you. Humming a tune to yourself, you glance at Logan when his hand drifts higher to your thigh, offering a squeeze and receiving a sweet smile in return.
pervy! old man Logan who “helps” you get comfortable once you’re both home. You don’t say anything when he tugs your clothes away, stripping you of your shorts and tights, your top coming off next. You have half a mind to tell him you didn’t need his help, he knows you can handle yourself, but all he does is give you a toothy smirk.
“Easy. Just trying to make sure you’re taken care of. I always take care of you baby, don’t I?”
pervy! old man Logan who takes off your bra and flings it to the side, leaving you in your undies. You look up at him, slightly in a daze, taking in his rugged appearance. His large hands are on your hips, keeping you upright as your breathing grows uneasy, warmth coursing through you along with the alcohol you consumed.
pervy! old man Logan who steps closer to you, chest to chest, hovering over your body and listening to your heart beating in your ribcage. His textured palms begin to roam, running down your spine and reaching to cup your ass, kneading the flesh between his fingers. You whimper, gripping Logan’s button-down shirt to ground yourself.
pervy! old man Logan who places one singular kiss on your shoulder and another on your neck, biting your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to come out. Here you were, tipsy and left to his mercy, panties beginning to stick as slick blossomed between your legs. All the touching, teasing, and toying around from the man who’s cared for you is now coming to fruition. Maybe you should be a little worried, but somewhere along the way, you stopped giving a shit.
pervy! old man Logan who grins widely when you lean further against him, releasing a quivering exhale when his fingers slip between your thighs, rubbing your clit through the lace that covered you. He groans at the feel of how wet you’ve gotten for him, the specific pair of panties he’s touching was a personal favorite he’s “borrowed” a few times before rewashing them. Your core throbbed under his touch, lifting your head to stare at him, pupils blown. He could feel the blood in his body rushing south to tug at his groin, the bulge you felt at your lower stomach growing harder with every passing minute.
“How about you give your old man a kiss and let him play with you a little? Doesn’t that sound nice, princess?”
©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett smut#logan howlett x fem!reader#old man! logan#old man logan#logan howlett x you#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett#hugh jackman#logan xmen#logan x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#tw dubcon#ovaryacted drabbles#⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆
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🧸 svt checking in on an overworked!reader.
anon → "Can I request texts from SVT who are crushing on yn who is working late, checking on her and offering to buy delivery food since she hasn't eaten?"
⌗ ┆the way this request #healed me.. ty anon. (*´ -`)
‧₊˚✩彡 includes: overworked!reader, tired!reader, lots of fluff :(, svt caring for reader, headcanons under the cut.
🧸 headcanons .ᐟ
seungcheol doesn't ask you if you want something; he just gets it for you. he'll get delivered what he thinks is best for your current state or something he knows you'll like. it could be a meal, could be a little trinket. money is of little object when the concern is making sure you're ok. see also: sets a special text ringtone for you, quietly plans a spa day for you to destress once the worst is over.
jeonghan won't go to sleep until you do. his check-ins seem nonchalant, but make no mistake. he's more likely to crash with his phone in his hand, having waited for your reply. see also: teases you that you should quit your job and he'll provide for you, enthusiastically wake-up calls you when you ask for it.
a design program? some excel formulas? joshua will learn anything and everything if it means he can help you, even a little. he'll never force you to give him your work, but he just wants you to know that the option is there. see also: makes you room sprays for days when you're work from home, gives you all the best gossip when you need a break.
junhui's tactic is a little backhanded, but he's genuine enough to pull it off: he gives you something to look forward to. whether it's a trip to an amusement park or the newest movie in cinemas, he's already securing you your much-needed break. see also: watches 'healing' dramas with you, gifts you pillows/blankets/pajamas as a 'gag' gift (when he really just hopes you'll rest more).
if he's not sending silly selfies of himself, soonyoung is bombarding you with photos of latte! he likes to think latte's cuteness eases some of your stress. (although he's also the first to insist that he's much, much cuter.) see also: gets genuinely offended on your behalf when your bosses/clients don't treat you well, takes you to rage rooms after particularly busy weeks.
wonwoo is always on the lookout for listicles about things-that-make-work-easier. he'll buy you a certain type of snack or get you a brand of coffee if someone vouched for its quality. he has a very 'don't-mention-it' vibe about how he cares for you. see also: wordlessly sends you openings to jobs he think will treat you better, asks often about whether your eyesight is worsening because of all your late nights.
it's no surprise that jihoon can be just as overworked as you; what is surprising is his easy willingness to co-work. he'll give up his studio for the night and focus on lyrics or something else entirely if it means keeping you some proper company. see also: buys convenience store meals for you, pries your laptop out of your hands when even he knows that it's been too much work.
mingyu will cook your tupperware after tupperware of meal prep if it makes your life easier. he does it under the guise of experimentation when, truthfully, he just wants to know that you're doing well while doing whatever you have to. see also: drives you wherever you need to go, won't move an inch if you fall asleep on him at any point in time.
seokmin is the type who likes to facetime while you work. you don't even have to talk to him; the two of you often do your own thing, and he just stays around for as long as you need him. see also: sends voice recordings of him belting your 'comfort' songs, showers your work in compliments if you ever tell him of the results/show him the finished product.
minghao is not in the business of assuming what you may or may not need; he much prefers that you let him know yourself. he's usually not so persistent, but he's adamant about not skipping meals. he's always willing to relieve you from the burden of choice— just say the word. see also: sends you guided meditation tiktoks, buys you cute office materials that he thinks you'll enjoy.
seungkwan believes that, in situations like these, photos speak louder than words. he'll send you a lot of uplifting memes that may seem insincere coming from anyone else, but you know that he means every single one of them. see also: always makes sure you have snacks in your home pantry, actively listens and responds to your rants about work.
vernon lets music do the talking. he's the type to curate very specific playlists for your situations; you've received a handful, from 'cramming a report' to 'i hate my boss'. see also: keeps a running list of films that he wants to watch with you when you're no longer busy, reads up on the terms you mention because he wants to understand what your work entails.
chan just— shows up. whether or not you're prepared for it, he'll come at the most ungodly hours, bearing anything from tubs of ice cream to fast food takeout. he either sticks around to just exist in your space or heads right home after; all he wants is to see with his own two eyes how you're doing. see also: sends you 'this is a sign to quit your job!' memes, (jokingly) vows to exact revenge on the company that has you working so hard.
#svt smau#seventeen smau#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#── ᵎᵎ ✦ reqs#[ soft svt ilu so bad ]#── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine
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Tangerine x fem!reader
Summary: You've been the Twins' handler for years now, and when Tangerine blows up at you one evening after a mission, he apologizes in an unconventional way.
Epilogue
Genre: SMUT (nsfm)
Warnings: implied fuck boy!Tangerine, bitchy!Tangerine in the beginning, reader is named Peach, unprotected sex, passionate sex, not much foreplay (they're desperate lmao), swearing, insecurities, praise kink, degradation, emotional, Tangerine is all over the place and bad with his feelings!
~ i'm so sorry i feel like this took forever <3 enjoy! @j23r23 ~
TANGERINE MASTERLIST
"He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not," you smile, your nails drumming on the desk as you pick at the petals of the roses in the jar near your computer. "Ah ha, he loves me. Knew you were so full of shit," you hum happily.
"Piss off," Tangerine loudly grunts in your ear and you tilt your head, scrunching your nose. You've told him not to yell like that—you've warned him that the earpiece is sensitive and you'll lose your hearing if he continues like this—but he never listens.
Being the Twins handler for almost four years now you've learned how to deal with their quirks.
Lemon, as ruthless as he is, is too trusting. He's also loyal to a fault and he'd die for Tangerine in seconds; something you've had to account for in your missions so it doesn't happen.
Tangerine on the other hand? Recklessness under the guise of control. He'd burn the entire world down for Lemon without hesitation, his temper as bright as the flames of a wildfire.
Unexplainably however, you were drawn to him the most.
While he pushes your buttons like no one else, you also tend to push him in ways that leave him wanting—no needing—more.
"Tan," you warn again, "don't talk so loudly, they'll hear you!"
"Stop your yapping in my ear then, luv," Tangerine snaps, his comment snarky and you hear a loud humph as it sounds like someone crashes into something.
Tangerine sounds out of breath and you use your mouse to click on the map on your computer. You zoom in and ask, "Where's Lem? You aren't supposed to meet any security for a while—"
"He's busy, darlin'. And your little shortcut turned out to be not so short after all," Tangerine says and you hear a loud grunt. It's obvious he's in the middle of a fight.
Your blood runs cold as you chew on your lip. Your hands quickly dance over the keyboard as you try and find another way for them—an easier way—
"Hey, Peach, will ya stop breathing so damn loudly, it's distracting me," Tangerine's voice interrupts your worry and you hold your breath when you hear a loud thwap and then a grunt—immediately accompanied by cursing and more hoarse shouts.
"Tangerine!" his name spills from your lips as you hear louder blows. "Tan?" you whisper when the line disconnects and a low buzz is heard in your ear. You fumble to discard the earpiece onto the desk in front of you and then you focus on finding Lemon.
If anyone can help Tangerine, it's Lemon.
With a frown, you activate the tracker you'd promised not to slip into Lemon's jacket, and a little red light blinks on your computer screen. He's not far from where Tangerine is. You lean over and connect to the microphone on your computer.
"Lemon?!"
You hear a crack and then the shuffling of clothes against the microphone in the tracker. "Peach?" Lemon grunts, "Ya cheeky lil' bird, I told ya not to track me," he lets out a breathy laugh, and another smack is heard, "Fuck me, these fuckers just don't die easily!"
"Lem? Where's Tan?" you ask, seeing that the tracker Tangerine wears voluntarily on his suit hasn't moved in a while. "Is he okay? I think the earpiece broke."
Something must have happened to his tracker too if it's malfunctioning.
"Yeah, which is why I say I should wear it—but he's bossy and he's your favorite," Lemon says.
"I don't have favorites!" you insist, your cheeks burning.
"Sure, whatever," Lemon chuckles and then adds, "Ah, speaking of the devil—I can see 'im now. Damn, he's beat up ain't he. Bullocks. Y'know your little plan was shit, Peach, security swarmed us almost immediately!"
You pinch your eyes and guilt settles in your stomach. "I know, I know, I'm sorry,"
You hear Tangerine's voice distantly as he grumbles, "Fuckin' arsehole broke my earpiece when he punched me—I lost contact with Peach," he complains and you hear shuffling. Your stomach fills with unwanted butterflies at the sound of his voice and how your codename rolls off his tongue.
"She can hear ya," Lemon says, his smirk evident in his tone, "Say hello, Peach."
"She tracked ya?"
"Yeah, and bugged me too apparently."
"What the fuck, my tracker doesn't do that," Tangerine says and you hear an infliction in his voice.
"Yeah, cauz you always have the earpiece."
"Because she likes me better,"
"That's what I said!!"
"Oi, you wankers, I can still hear you," you interrupt, "Will you just come back to the van now? The mission's a bust," you finish. While they continue to bicker for a moment, Lemon finally shuts down the tracker—by breaking it you assume—idiot—and it isn't until the van door slams open that you hear and see them again.
"Oi, now you're takin' the piss," Tangerine exclaims, glaring at his brother as he runs a hand through his mussed hair. He enters the van and you stand. Your eyes scan over his appearance; his suit is torn and bloodied and he has a gaping cut on his forehead. His ear is also bleeding from when you assume the broken earpiece had shattered.
"Christ," you whisper and walk over to him. Lemon smirks as he walks by the both of you and collapses onto the second chair near your desk. He's less beat up than Tangerine—who'd taken on more men you assume—but you remind yourself to check on him later anyway.
Tangerine senses you come up to him and he tenses when you hold his cheeks in your hands and check his wounds. "Tan, this looks bad," you say.
"Peach, I'm fine," he grumbles and turns his head away. He sounds grumpier than usual.
"Look, I'm sorry—I'm sorry I messed up, I—"
Suddenly, Tangerine explodes. His hand comes up around his ears as he scrunches up his nose. "Will ya just stop talkin' for one fuckin' second?!" he yells and even Lemon, who had been a silent bystander to the conversation, looks up from where he's bandaging his hand.
Your eyes widen and you blink at Tangerine. "W-what?"
He presses his index on his temple and narrows his eyes at you. "I have a fuckin' headache 'cause of you and you talkin' my fuckin' ear off all the damn time! And now I can barely hear because it's ringing so fuckin' hard!" he points to the blood inside his ear.
You flinch at his tone and try to control the tears threatening to spill as he harshly berates you.
"Right," is all you say, "sorry," your voice sounds small and you push by him and out to the front of the van to start the engine.
* * *
When you arrive outside their house—well, your house too since you've been living with them for the past three months—you don't talk to Tangerine. You don't even look at him.
Instead, without a word, you walk up to your room, tears still brimming, and slam the door behind you.
Your stomach hurts and your nails dig into your palms as you run a shower. You desperately want to wash away any memory of what happened tonight.
It isn't uncommon for you and Tangerine to fight—but he's never shouted like that and never in response to your worry.
Once you finish with your shower and walk out of the bathroom, just a towel wrapped around your body, you jump when you see Tangerine standing in the middle of your room.
He'd clearly freshened up too but, unlike yours, his hair is freshly dried. You aren't surprised—you know he hates sleeping with it when it's wet.
He's wearing a casual pair of beige slacks and a white T-shirt. The fabric strains against the muscles in his arms as he crosses them across his chest and you look up, feeling a burn in your cheeks.
Tangerine's ear has been bandaged and his cuts and bruises look kindly tended to. Lemon, you assume, he's always been soft on his brother even when he's acting like a jerk.
Tangerine is staring at you intensely, his blue eyes shining a shade darker than usual.
"Shit, stop being creepy," you grumble, holding your towel tightly around yourself. "Have you come to say you're sorry for acting like a prick or just stare a hole into my head?"
Tangerine's eyes narrow and he shakes his head. He stalks closer to you, pink lips parted and his hands find your hair near your nape. He pulls you in, seemingly unbothered by the squeal you make or how you're unable to move your hands to push him away.
Not that you'd want to push him away anyway.
"The fuck you think you're doing?" you hiss, staring at him, "have you gone mad?"
Tangerine just continues to stare into your soul. "You're so damn annoying," he mutters.
"I'll scream and Lemon will come and beat the shit out of you," you threaten, challenging him. You know Lemon would never do such a thing and you'd be a fool to scream.
"But, fuck me, I like you so damn much," he finishes his sentence, and then his lips find yours. His hand tightens in your hair as he kisses you. There's no tenderness in his kiss, no hesitation or remorse, just pure passion as he wraps his arms around you and holds your back as he pulls your chest to his.
You clutch the towel, making sure it feels secure, and kiss him back. You make a small sound behind his lips but you can't deny the heat in the kiss or how badly your stomach tightens just right. The steam coming from your bathroom is taunting as it surrounds you; sticky and warm.
"Tan," you mumble as his hand comes around your jaw and he turns your head to kiss your neck.
"Shut up," he growls, "you talk too damn much." He squeezes his eyes shut and the words fall easily from his lips as they press to your skin.
"God, you don't understand how hard it is for me; hearing your sweet voice in my ear while I'm trying not to get fuckin' stabbed or shot to death! You don't know what you do to me, darlin'. You have no fuckin' clue. It's fuckin' torture," he says as his hand tightens in your hair and you whimper.
"Tan, m-my towel," you tell him, struggling to hold it up as his body presses against yours.
This makes Tangerine snap out of whatever trance he's in for a moment and he looks down at you. His eyes have softened just a little and his tone is sultry when he asks, "Let it fall. I don't care. Do you?" His lips quirk up. "I've dreamt of you naked a thousand times, luv."
Your eyes round at the intensity of his words. You want to tell him to fuck off—that you've never thought of him like this. Never imagined his lips on yours or the way he'd feel inside you. But then you'd be a liar, and you aren't a liar.
Instead, you drop the towel, your eyes still intensely locked onto his. The cold air sends a shiver up your spine and Tangerine's hands find the skin on your back instead of the towel. His eyes haven't left yours and he looks surprised that you'd done it. He hasn't looked down and his cheeks have turned a dusty pink.
"What?" you move your hands up to his cheeks and hold them, "you said you'd dreamt of this. Well?" With as much confidence as you can muster, tilt his head to your naked body. You can feel your hands tremble against his cheeks, all kinds of insecurities and uncertainties bubbling inside you and just as you're going to pull away from sheer embarrassment, Tangerine speaks;
"Fuckin' hell, you look so much better than in my imagination," his hands slide up the curves of your hips and breasts. His touch is surprisingly gentle for how passionate he'd been in the beginning.
You watch as his eyes roam around your body and he runs a hand over his jaw, staring at you with pure admiration. "You belong in a fuckin' museum," he whispers behind his hand.
"Alright, lover boy," you roll your eyes and shift to move away but his hands find your hips and he hoists you up into his arms. You gasp, your arms finding his shoulders and your legs cling to his waist as your wet hair sprinkles water over his face. It's a weird position to be in considering you're naked.
"Tangerine!" you cry as he carries you over to your bed and you squeal when he drops you and hovers over you.
"Let me worship you, darlin'," he whispers as his knee slides in between your legs and he kisses your lips again. He disconnects them and looks at you seriously, "Please," he pleads and your eyes widen.
Tangerine never says please.
You find yourself nodding, too lost in the haze of it all to hear the small voice in your head screaming how stupid this is.
He'll throw you away after. He doesn't care. He'll hurt you. He'll break your heart!
You kiss him again, his lips moving against yours rhythmically. You're so lost in pleasure that when he sits up on his heels to strip his shirt, you whine and grasp at his arms. "Shhh, I'm here, dove," he chuckles, enjoying the power he has over you. When he leans over you to kiss you again, this time your hands find his abs and you can't help but explore them.
"You countin' them, luv?" he chuckles after a moment and his lips find your nipples as he squeezes one of your breasts in his hands. You make an embarrassed sound that quickly turns into a moan when he positions your hips just right so the fabric of his slacks hits your clit.
"I know, I know," Tangerine teases as he senses how needy you're becoming. "Shit, you're just a little slut, aren't ya, luv? Knew you'd wear those dresses to tempt me—didn't ya?"
You nod. You had. You didn't think it worked—he always played it so cool.
"You should know I would wank one out after seeing you—your thighs so visible and," he pauses and uses his hands to spread you open until he sees what he wants, "and that pretty pussy. So fuckin' pretty—
—you let me have a peek sometimes didn't you, naughty girl? Knew you did it on purpose," Tangerine says. He sounds satisfied with himself that he'd found you out and his grin widens when you nod.
"Just for you," you whisper, looking up at him with hooded eyes. "Please, Tan," you whine, you're already so wet for him.
"What do you want, hm? Tell me," he smirks and dips his head down to kiss your neck as his hands wander around your skin. He sits back up and removes his slacks and boxers. Your eyes downturn on his cock and you bite your lip. God, is he really this beautiful everywhere? How fucking unfair.
Tangerine's hand comes up to your chin, "Where do you want me?"
You look into his eyes, unsure how to ask him for what you want. Tangerine smiles, his thumb touching your lip. He's gentle, his eyes softer now, "Peach," he leans in and kisses just behind your ear. You shiver. "It's okay. Tell me where you want me," he smiles against your skin.
"Inside me," you say, your voice small
Tangerine hums and tucks some of your hair behind your ear, "Where inside you, luv? I want to hear you say it for me."
You feel your cheeks warm and you stare up at him. "In my pussy," you say and Tangerine's eyes light up and he smirks.
"My pleasure," he says and shifts his hips until you feel his cock press against your pussy. He feels you tense as your hands tighten around his shoulder.
"Hey, it's just me," he says, pushing in slower now. He looks concerned as one of his hands finds your hair and pushes the strands away from your eyes.
Yeah, that's the issue, you want to tell him but you just nod, squeezing your eyes shut.
"Look at me," he says as he pushes inside you fully. You gasp, arching into him and your breathing becomes harsh. He's so thick and long. Tangerine doesn't move and you let out a whine, your eyelids fluttering. "I said, look at me. I won't move until you look at me, darlin'," he whispers sternly.
When you finally look at him he smiles, "Do you trust me? I'm not gonna hurt you—promise."
You nod, biting your lip. Of course, you trust him. "I trust you," you answer breathlessly.
"Good girl," Tangerine praises and kisses your forehead. He starts to move his hips, pulling in and out of you with torturous strokes. He feels so good.
As he fucks you, he leans his forehead on yours, occasionally whispering praises into your ear as he tells you how pretty you look with him buried inside you.
"So fuckin' pretty with my cock inside your pussy, hmm," he grunts, continuing the pounding of his hips. "You close, luv? Already?" He teases you with a smirk and kisses your lips. You let out small moans, skin warm and sticky as you nod.
"Good," he smiles and uses his thumb to rub your clit, adding pressure as he fucks into you. "So good for me. All for me, hmm?"
"Y-yes," you groan, squeezing your eyes shut.
"Open your eyes, Peach," he demands and you do so instantly. "I want to look into your eyes when you come apart around me."
With that, the tension breaks inside you. Your body feels weak from the pleasure and your chest rises and falls rapidly once your high finishes. You let yourself relax into the mattress for a moment, ignoring the sudden stream of thoughts—good and bad—that race into your mind. Tangerine's lips touch your forehead again and then he pulls out, finishing on your stomach with a grunt.
You blink, feeling the bed dip and then his warmth disappears. You panic a little but you're too weak to move. If he wants to leave, let him, you convince yourself as you stare at the ceiling. However, when you feel something cold and wet across your stomach, you flinch and scramble to sit up.
Your eyes are wide and Tangerine pauses, removing the washcloth from your skin. He frowns a little, "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly. You stare at him. He's still shirtless but he's pulled up his trousers.
"You aren't leaving?" you ask, looking around the room and you suddenly feel very bare.
Tangerine's frown deepens but he doesn't speak for a moment as he washes away his cum from your skin and, after discarding the washcloth, he reaches behind him to hand you his shirt. You accept it without thinking and put it on, wrapping your arms around yourself as you continue to stare at him.
He shifts, sitting beside you with one leg off the bed. He still hasn't answered and you start to feel an impending pit in your stomach.
"Why would I leave?" he asks calmly, his voice doesn't have a hint of concern in its tone.
You fiddle nervously with the hem of his shirt, looking down. Your hair, now half-dried, is a mess from the pillows and you push it down and around your ears in an effort to compose yourself in front of him. "Well, I- I just assumed that you would—"
Tangerine tilts his head. "You think I would fuck and ditch, did ya? Ya think so low of me, Peach?" It feels like he sounds almost amused.
You shake your head but your nerves don't stop. "I mean, what do you expect me to think, Tangerine?" you look into his eyes and continue, "You come in here, all pissed at me—you yelled at me earlier and made me feel all shitty about myself—and then out of nowhere you kiss me and then we—"
"Fuck." Tangerine finishes bluntly.
You narrow your eyes at him. "Yeah, that," you let out a breath, "So, please, tell me. What am I supposed to think? What do you want from me now? Because I can't be one of your fuck toys, Tan. I refuse to be that girl. I- I care about you—" you feel your emotions get caught in your throat and you feel your eyes sting. Furiously, you wipe your eyes with your hands, refusing to cry in front of him.
Tangerine hasn't said a word. He's looking at you but you can't read his expression. You hate it. You shut your eyes, ready to call it quits, and tell him to leave, but then you feel the bed dip again and you feel his hands cup your cheeks. Your eyes snap open.
"Don't cry," he whispers, his thumb sliding under your eyes and catching your tears, "Please, don't cry because of a stupid bastard like me," he cracks a smile, hoping you'll smile too but when you don't and he sighs, "Okay, I was a dick, a real fuckin' dick, and you didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry."
You nod, still listening to him, "You really were a dick," you whisper.
Tangerine chuckles and nods too. "Yeah. I was," he pauses and moves his thumb across your cheeks as if admiring you some more, "Do ya really believe I'd fuck ya for this to be a one-time thing, luv? That I'd just throw ya away after?"
Your cheeks feel warm. "I- I don't know,"
"You do know. You think I would do that to ya," Tangerine says, his voice low.
"I mean—that's what you do don't you? I've known you for years, Tan. All those girls—"
Tangerine suddenly laughs and his hands drop from your face. "Peach, you aren't those girls," he says, suddenly serious, "I wasn't just making it up when I said how hard it is for me to listen to you in my ear all the time. Not because you're annoying—which sometimes you are but that's beside the point—but because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for years. You're all I goddamn think about. Do you understand how hard that is for me?"
You just frown, shaking your head a little. "No. This doesn't make sense. Why now—why not yesterday? Or months ago? Or years ago?"
Tangerine runs a hand in his hair and lets out a breath. "Because I didn't want to but I snapped, I snapped, okay? I'm not fuckin' proud of it. I yelled at you and I felt so bad after I didn't know what to do with myself anymore—
—you're always there for Lem and me, and I realized, after that fuckin' earpiece broke, that I hated not having your pretty voice in my ear anymore. It felt like I'd lost you—do you have any idea how scared that made me feel, even when I knew it was irrational and that you were completely safe?" His words come out jumbled and strained. "I fuckin' hated it, I hated feeling like that so I snapped," he finishes.
You stare at him, his words hitting you hard. You've never seen him like this and it scares you, but it also turns you on some more. Why does he have to be so fucking hot? "And I'm sorry. I am. I would never throw you away. I don't want to throw you away after this—especially after fucking you—that's the last thing I would want! I– I-"
You stare at him some more, your eyes wide, "You what—?"
Tangerine pauses, "I love you," he says, articulating every word so you hear him clearly.
"You love me?"
"Yes."
"As in love love?"
"Fuckin' hell Peach, ya want me to scream it at ya or somethin'? I'm in love with ya. I love ya more than anythin' I fuckin' have. You're my everything. I love you so damn much."
All your anger, doubt, and shame instantly vanished into thin air. He loves you. All this time he'd loved and he was just shit at expressing his emotions? You laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as happiness overwhelms you.
"Are ya laughing at me?" Tangerine's voice cuts in the air and you focus on him. He looks surprised and hurt.
Your smile falters and you shake your head. There is so much you want to tell him that you're at a loss for words. He looks so pretty like this, sitting in front of you, and your hands find his cheek instead of using words.
Your fingers skim the bandage that's still wrapped around his ear and you want to ask him if it still hurts. You want to ask him so many things. He's staring at you, chest heaving, and you don't think as you kiss him.
It's softer than the previous passionate kiss you'd shared. Only, Tangerine reacts with as much eagerness as earlier. His hands find your back and he presses you against him, your lips sliding against yours. It's intense and lovely all in the same.
"I love you too," you say quietly between kisses.
"Say it louder," Tangerine suddenly hums, his eyes shut in pleasure. You think he needs you to talk louder because one of his ears is bandaged and hurt.
So, you do as he asks and it earns you another kiss, however when Tangerine mutters, "I wanna hear ya say it again," you know he heard you fine. His voice is so love sick you just grin and wrap your arms around him, your hands bunching in his curls.
"I love you, Tangerine," you say breathlessly, "I love you."
"You have no idea how happy ya just made ma, luv," he responds instantly, running his hand over your cheek as he looks into your eyes. "God, I'd die for ya," he mutters and you frown, slapping his arm a little.
"Don't talk about you dying, you git," you reprimand, and Tangerine smirks.
He kisses your neck and with a teasing tone he reassures you, "Ya have nothin' to worry about, luv. I'd much rather live for you. You have all of my heart, darlin'. It's all yours," he guides your hand to press your palm against his chest and you feel how quickly his heart is beating.
"This beats for you."
You smile and kiss his lips once more as you bring his other hand to your chest too. "And I'm yours," you whisper. "Only yours."
And until then, you'd never seen Tangerine's grin widen as widely as it did when you said those words.
#tangerine x reader#tangerine x you#tangerine x y/n#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine fanfiction#tangerine fic#tangerine#bullet train tangerine#bullet train movie#bullet train#tangerine bullet train#tangerine bullet train x reader#lemon and tangerine#bullet train fanfic#bullet train fanfiction#lemon bullet train#tangerine bullet train smut#aaron taylor johnson fic#aaron taylor johnson fanfiction#aaron taylor johnson#tangerine blurb#tangerine smut#tangerine 🍊#tw smut
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Hey sugar~
Can we get some NSFW of either alsstor on his rut? Or reader on theirs~? And "helping eachothrr"
The One Who Cried Deer
Alastor x GN!Reader
TW:ITS 18+!! MINORS GET OUTTA HERE- cockwarming, biting, ruts, Reader is implied to have animalistic traits as well, scratching, semi-public sex.
-🦌 First off, let’s just get say this. Alastor does not like affection, especially of the sexual nature.
-🦌 But when it comes to you, he’s more cuddly and protective. It’s more of a he’s trying to show off, everytime he does he immediately looks over at you and puffs his chest out like an exotic bird.
-🦌 When his rut does get more into the territory of sexual intimacy, he does not hold back. Especially when yours does line up with his once in a blue moon.
-🦌 He won’t let you around anyone during those times and if you are around people he will drag you away and glare at the other poor soul around. Sometimes he spouts out curses and threats.
You sat at the bar slowly drinking some whiskey Husk had given you before he had to go fetch some more from the back. Leaving the almost empty bottle with you just in case you wanted the rest of it. The familiar feeling of static pricking at your skin made something inside of you set aflame. A warm feeling racing from your neck to your cheek as a clawed hand moved to wrap around your waist, fingertips threatening to dig into your hip. Practically pressing his body against yours, “My Love, I need to see you..privately.” He purred into your ear, leaning down to kiss at your neck. You placed the cup onto the bar counter getting up and not making eye contact with Husk who had finally come back holding two boxes full of different booze, Alastor gave him a glare which made the old tomcat flinch and avert his gaze. Husk sighed and turned his back on the display, he was too sober for this.
-🦌 His favorite thing to do while bending you over is mark your neck with bites and hickeys as his nails dig into your hips or sides leaving even more bloodied marks that he gets to happily lick up later.
-🦌 While he doesn’t mean to hurt you, he hates thinking that his own hands would hurt his partner like he hurts others that piss him off. It’s when he’s so far into his rut that he forgets himself and has the mindset of constantly breeding you all night. It’s his animalistic side he promises.
-🦌 He especially loves it when he makes you moan out his name or squeal between your moans and gasps. It just makes him much more eager to get those noises out of your mouth.
Holding your hips as he pounded his cock into you from behind as your hands gripped the back of the couch. Knuckles turning white as you keep yourself up for him, legs shaking as you keep them from buckling under your weight. Mouth hanging wide open as you moan out his name, feeling him push his cock deep into you. His teeth digging into your shoulder as he growls and grunts against you, blood escaping past his lips. Arms starting to shake from the position he had held you in as you squeal for him, body shaking as you feel how his thrusts falter for a second. “More..make more sounds for me, Darling.” He snarled out wrapping his arms around your waist, your blood coating his clawed hands.
-🦌 When he can’t pull you away from work or away from people for too long. He either pulls you into a closet and takes you in there or makes you cockwarm him until you snap and beg him to take you both somewhere private under the guise you weren’t feeling too well.
-🦌 Don’t get me started when you do decide to cockwarm him too, he’s gripping your hips like his life depended on it just to keep you down on his lap. He won’t pay much attention to you but will allow you to cover his face and neck in kisses if you want.
-🦌 But don’t you worry, when he’s in his rut like this he won’t take long to break especially when you start to move your hips against him. Slowly at first to not rouse suspicion but then going faster until you're practically riding him and keeping his hands off of you.
Alastor gasped out sending a half hearted glare up at you, tears in his eyes as you bounced down against his cock. Hands cupping his face as you kiss him carefully moans leaving your lips, his hands wrapped around your thighs as his tongue eagerly pushes into your mouth. In a flash your back pressed against your mattress as he started to thrust his cock deep into you, hands above your head as he listened to your loud moans of his name between his deep grunts and moans. His belt buckle clinking against his legs as he tugged you closer to him, claws digging into your wrists as he leaned his head down to mark your neck up to make sure everyone knew who was making you feel so good.
-🦌 Once his ruts or your rut wears off, the everloving gentleman your lover is, he runs you a bath. He won’t ever get into it with you, something he made very clear but he will help wash your hair or massage your shoulders. Once out of the bath, he will patch up any scratches you had gotten. He wants you to keep the bite marks uncovered but he will disinfect them for you.
-🦌 He won’t talk about his rut or your rut as it’s something he doesn’t like to talk about. He won’t stop you from talking about it but if he hears you breathe a word about how needy he was, he will deny it until you drop it and then you’ll be in bigger trouble. But if you respect his wishes and not breathe a word he’ll be a little more thankful. Either way he brings you to a nice dinner a night later to thank you for helping him out.
-🦌 All in all if your respectful to him and his wishes, he will return the favor tenfold especially during and after his rut. He appreciates you more than you know and more than he lets on.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor x you#gn reader#alastor x gn!reader
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A Feline Connection Part 2
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: Natasha has an unexpected reunion while on a mission.
Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
Warnings: light fluff, slight angst, mention of gun
Words: 4703
Natasha sits at a small outdoor table, blending effortlessly with the weekend crowd outside a nondescript café. Dressed casually in a simple jacket, jeans, and sunglasses, she appears to be just another city dweller enjoying a quiet morning coffee.
Beneath the surface, however, her sharp eyes remain focused on the apartment building across the street, subtly monitoring every individual entering or leaving.
The team had received a tip suggesting that one of the building’s occupants might have ties to the city’s criminal underworld and could possess some information about an upcoming weapons deal they were investigating.
Natasha’s mission is to uncover more, though the lead is vague. They only know that the target supposedly resides in this area, leaving Natasha with little to do but wait and watch for anything suspicious.
Maintaining her undercover guise, Natasha casually lifts her coffee cup to her lips. Just as the rim touches her mouth, she feels a gentle nudge against her leg.
Startled, she frowns slightly and glances under the table to investigate.
Wide, familiar yellow eyes stare back at her, unblinking.
For a second, Natasha considers the possibility that it’s just a coincidence.
There must be dozens of black cats in the city, but when her gaze shifts to the sleek gold tag hanging from the cat’s collar, she reads the ironic name engraved on it.
Widow meows, placing her paw on Natasha’s leg and nudging her again, this time with more insistence, as if greeting an old friend.
Natasha can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips.
“Hey, it’s been a while,” she murmurs, lifting Widow onto her lap. She gently scratches behind the cat’s ears, feeling the soft, familiar fur beneath her fingers.
“Did she lose you again?” Natasha asks the cat with a slight chuckle.
Before Natasha can react, a soft, amused huff appears near her ear, followed by a low voice.
“Is that really how you think of me?”
Natasha starts slightly, momentarily caught off guard by the fact that she hadn’t sensed your approach. She turns her head to find you standing beside her with an amused smirk, your eyes gleaming with playful mischief.
You reach out and gently push the bridge of her sunglasses up, fully covering her eyes.
“Does this disguise really fool anyone?” you tease.
Natasha clears her throat, recovering her composure quickly, though she still feels a slight heat on her face caused by your close proximity.
“It works well enough,” she replies smoothly as you move to the other side of the table.
You chuckle, casually resting your hands on the back of the empty chair across from her, raising a brow in question.
“Mind if we join you?” you ask, your voice carrying that familiar blend of ease and flirtation.
Natasha hesitates, her eyes flicking toward the apartment building she’s been watching all morning. She knows she should stay focused on the mission, but the unexpected reunion with you and the cat resting in her lap has thrown her off balance.
Noticing her hesitation, you lean forward, your voice dropping to a whisper.
“You know,” you say, glancing around dramatically before locking eyes with her, “it’s a lot less suspicious if you’re sitting with someone.”
Your knowing grin makes Natasha sigh, but still, the corners of her mouth twitch upwards in amusement. She gives a small nod toward the empty chair across from her.
“Alright,” she concedes. “But Widow stays with me.”
The black cat meows as if in agreement, her body brushing more snugly against her lap.
You grin wider, pleased at her acceptance, and pull out the chair to settle in across from her, the faintest glint of fondness softening your gaze at the two of them.
“I wouldn't dare argue with either of you.”
As Widow curls up, her purring reverberates softly in Natasha’s lap as she strokes the cat’s fur.
After a long morning of heightened vigilance, this unexpected visit brings a strange but welcome sense of calm. The tension in her body unravels as she savors this brief moment of normalcy, an unusual pause in her otherwise relentless routine.
“So,” you begin, your voice pulling her back from the quiet comfort of the moment, “who are you watching?”
Natasha’s gaze sharpens, but she keeps her tone casual, taking a sip of her coffee before responding, “Who says I’m watching anyone? I’m just here for the coffee.”
You raise a brow, your smile growing.
“Right. Because the Black Widow spends her weekends blending in with civilians, sipping coffee, and definitely not on a mission.”
“Exactly,” Natasha replies smoothly with a smirk.
Releasing an exaggerated sigh, your expression turns mockingly disappointed as you remark.
“And here I was, thinking you sought me out specifically.”
Widow lifts her head at your words, releasing a chastising cry in offense.
“Sorry,” you amend, glancing at the cat with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “I mean, us.”
Natasha chuckles at the exchange, allowing herself to indulge in the banter to steer the conversation away from her mission.
“Isn’t it more likely the other way around? After all, you approached me first,” she counters with a teasing smirk.
You scoff playfully. “Ah, I see—someone’s pretty confident in herself.”
Raising a brow, Natasha gestures pointedly to the cat nestled comfortably in her lap.
“I’m just basing it on facts. Why else would you name your cat after me?”
You narrow your eyes, a playful glint returning.
“Who says she’s named after you?”
Natasha’s smirk widens as she leans back, clearly enjoying the upper hand.
“You’re not denying it.”
“And I’m not admitting it either,” you shoot back, leaning forward with a grin, resting your chin on your hand as you meet her eyes.
“It’s alright,” Natasha teases with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve had my fair share of admirers. There’s no shame in being a fan.”
With an amused scoff, you gesture toward the apartment building as you reply with a sarcastic tone.
“Yes, you’ve caught me. My apartment is filled with Black Widow merch,” you smirk at her, adopting a playfully serious expression.
Your words make Natasha pause in her playful banter, her brows knitting slightly at the casual mention of your home. She glances briefly at the building she’s been watching, remembering the intel she received.
“You live here?” she asks, her tone more curious than accusatory.
Widow raises her head at her and lets out another indignant meow, clearly displeased by the oversight.
Natasha pets the cat’s head gently, an apology in her touch.
“Sorry,” she corrects, “the two of you live here?”
“Yep, third floor,” you answer. “We were just on our way back when Widow spotted you.”
Widow meows again, almost as if confirming the information, nuzzling Natasha’s hand affectionately.
At the new information, Natasha taps her fingers lightly on the tabletop, humming in thought. She wonders if the intel the team received might have been about you—or perhaps someone from your past.
Before she can delve deeper into the idea, your hand slips over hers, gently stopping the movement.
“I’m not the one you’re looking for,” you say, your voice serious enough to catch her attention.
There’s a knowing look in your eyes that Natasha recognizes but can’t fully understand. Yet, instinctively, she feels she can trust you—at least for now.
Natasha’s gaze drops to where your hand covers hers, feeling the warmth of your touch seep through her skin. The contact sends a familiar stirring through her, the same unexpected feeling that often rises whenever you’re near.
She’s still not sure whether to welcome it or resist it.
Natasha looks back into your eyes, her curiosity piqued, ready to probe deeper with questions.
But before she can speak, you gently turn her hand over in yours, your fingers tracing light, random patterns across her palm.
“At your ten,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.
Natasha’s pulse quickens, both from the delicate sensation of your touch and the subtle way you’ve pointed out something she missed.
Despite the distracting warmth radiating from your fingers, she discreetly shifts her gaze in the direction you indicated.
Sure enough, a man walks toward the apartment building, his posture tense, clad in a plain jacket and a cap pulled low over his face, clearly trying to avoid attention.
Widow’s body tenses in her lap and her ears flatten against her head as she lets out a low hiss in his direction.
Natasha attempts to soothe the cat’s nerves with gentle strokes.
“He moved in down the hall a few weeks ago,” you continue casually, not looking up, still focused on tracing her palm. “Seems normal enough, but I’ve recognized his type before.”
After calming Widow to the point where her tail is no longer lashing, Natasha’s eyes return to you.
“You’ve been watching him?”
With a faint sigh of exasperation, you reply, “Didn’t have much of a choice. He’s taken an…unwelcome interest in me lately.”
Curious, Natasha glances back at the man, her eyes narrowing as she observes him. As if sensing her attention, he pauses mid-step, his gaze locking onto your table—specifically, onto you.
His body language shifts, stiffening with barely concealed interest and tension.
Before Natasha can react, your fingers slowly and deliberately intertwine with hers. With a playful smirk, you lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against her skin.
Natasha snaps her attention back to you, eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected gesture.
"Maybe that'll finally give him a hint," you remark nonchalantly, lowering your entwined hands back to the table as though the intimate moment were perfectly ordinary.
Natasha blinks, momentarily thrown by the shift in dynamic.
A now familiar warmth rises in her cheeks, and she's grateful her sunglasses hide the flustered look creeping across her face.
Natasha clears her throat softly after a beat, regaining her composure. Glancing subtly in the man's direction, she's relieved to have a reason not to meet your gaze.
He’s no longer standing there—storming away instead, his frustration and confusion apparent in the hurried way he vanishes into the building.
Before Natasha can fully process everything that just happened, Widow hops onto the table. Her little paws rest on top of your joined hands as if wanting to be part of the moment.
That touch settles her as she returns to her previous cool demeanor.
“You were using me,” Natasha accuses, her voice carrying a mix of mock indignation and dry amusement.
You grin, utterly unfazed.
“And in return, I gave you valuable intel to move your little operation along.”
Natasha’s eyes narrow playfully with a slight huff.
“You could’ve just told me from the start.”
Your smirk widens, your eyes gleaming with mischief.
“But where’s the fun in that?”
Natasha shakes her head, her lips twitching upward in a reluctant smile. Despite your methods and actions, you did give her a new lead on her mission.
Though, now she has to handle this new situation—the tension between you two.
Even though the man is gone, you haven’t released her hand, and she doesn’t pull away either.
Something else lingers in the air between you, something unspoken but undeniable.
Widow nudges her head against your hands as if offering her approval of the unfolding moment.
Natasha’s gaze drifts to the cat before her eyes return to you, her expression softening.
“You two never came by the Compound after that night,” Natasha comments softly, her tone casual but tinged with a hint of disappointment.
You shrug lightly and reply with a sly grin, “I’m sure Stark didn’t appreciate how easily I bypassed his security system.”
Natasha chuckles lightly at the memory.
“Telling him about that was the best part. You should’ve seen his face.”
You let out a soft laugh, the moment lingering in comfortable silence.
Eventually, you slowly release her hand, your fingers trailing against hers before pulling away completely.
Standing up, you adjust your jacket with casual ease.
“Well, now that you know where we live,” you say, nodding toward the building, “feel free to drop by whenever you’re not too busy saving the world.”
You gesture to the little cat, who’s now swatting lightly at Natasha’s coffee cup in a playful manner, adding, “I’m sure Widow wouldn’t mind your company.”
Natasha’s eyes twinkle with amusement, catching the cup before it could fall and giving the cat a tiny scratch on her head before returning her attention to you.
“Just her?” Natasha raises a brow, the question hanging between you with playful intent.
You don’t answer directly, but the slight smile on your face says enough.
“Good luck with your mission, Miss Black Widow,” you say softly, your tone shifting to something more sincere before turning toward the apartment building.
Widow gives her a soft meow goodbye before hopping off the table and climbing into your arms.
Natasha watches you walk away, her gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. Eventually, her mind returns to the mission but not without a fleeting thought of you.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Natasha leans against the rooftop's edge, her eyes fixed on the target’s apartment in the building across her. The cool night air brushes against her face, but her focus remains sharp.
You were right. The man you pointed out is involved with one of the organizations suspected of orchestrating a major weapons deal. His hidden familial ties and shady movements had confirmed it.
After bugging his phone and tracking his movements for days, Natasha discovered that tonight would be crucial—a drop-off containing the specs for some of the weapons in the deal and where they came from.
She watches patiently as the man opens his door to receive a small package from an unknown figure.
The exchange is brief, and once the door shuts, the man places the package carelessly on his counter.
As Natasha considers a plan to obtain the package, something causes the man to tense, and he cautiously turns back toward the door.
Her hand instinctively moves toward her own weapon, prepared to intervene when she spots him pull a gun, keeping it hidden behind his back as he cracks the door open again.
The man’s posture relaxes as he realizes who’s on the other side of the door, and he hides his weapon in the back of his waistband.
Natasha observes as his overly confident bravado takes over, and it becomes clear he’s trying to impress someone.
Natasha’s view of the visitor is blocked, but judging by the man’s lowered guard, she assumes this person doesn’t pose an immediate threat.
Whoever they are, though, they seem to hold some influence over him.
After a brief conversation that results in the man turning off the lights and slipping out of the apartment, led by the unseen visitor, Natasha seizes the opportunity to retrieve the package before he returns.
With practiced precision, she shoots her grappling hook across the gap between the buildings and swings silently onto the balcony outside the man’s apartment. Carefully picking the lock on the window, she slips inside without making a sound.
But as she steps into the room, she quickly realizes something is wrong.
The small package, which had been resting on the counter moments ago, is now gone.
Natasha scans the area, her eyes darting around the room.
Had it fallen somewhere?
A faint sound reaches her ears as Natasha walks around the room—movement just behind her.
She whirls around, gun raised, ready to face whatever threat is lurking in the shadows.
But the only thing she’s met with is darkness.
Her eyes narrow as her instincts scream that something is off. She’s sure she heard something.
She focuses on the shadows for a moment longer when a pair of familiar yellow eyes suddenly blink open, glowing softly in the dark.
Natasha lowers her weapon, momentarily caught off guard by the sight.
Widow emerges from the darkness, its head tilted curiously as she approaches Natasha. The corner of the small package is clutched tightly in her mouth.
Natasha lets out an incredulous huff.
“Really?” she mutters in disbelief as she kneels and waves the cat closer.
Widow trots over and jumps into Natasha’s arms without hesitation, the package still firmly between her teeth.
Standing up, Natasha tries to pry the package from the cat’s mouth gently, but each time she reaches for it, Widow swats at her hand and shifts her head, making it impossible to grab.
“You’re not serious,” Natasha sighs, exasperated.
But Widow only stares up at her with those wide, innocent eyes, completely unfazed by the situation.
Before Natasha can try again, she hears footsteps approaching from the hallway.
Instantly, she reacts, slipping out of the window with Widow still in her arms, her movements quick and silent. She carefully closes the window behind her, ensuring everything looks untouched, before flattening herself against the outside wall.
The light flickers on inside the apartment, and Natasha hears voices. She listens closely, picking up snippets of conversation.
“Thanks again, I don’t know what I would have done without your help,” your voice floats through the window, laced with exaggerated helplessness.
It’s not like your usual demeanor and tone. You were clearly playing a part.
“Anytime,” the man responds, his tone gruff, but Natasha can tell he’s trying too hard to sound confident. “You know, if it doesn’t work out with—”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I really have to go!” you interrupt quickly, your voice fading as you move toward the door. “Have a good night!”
Natasha hears the door close with a soft click, signaling your exit. She waits a moment longer before making her own move, descending silently into the nearby alley below.
Landing with ease, she looks down at Widow, still cradled in her arms.
The cat is now lazily gnawing on the corner of the package, completely unbothered by the chaos of the situation.
Her claws grip the package tightly, almost possessively.
Natasha shakes her head in disbelief, her lips curving into a small, amused smile despite herself.
“You two have a lot of explaining to do,” she mutters, glancing at the apartment building.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
The moment you open the door, your eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Natasha standing there.
“A bit late for a visit, don’t you think?” you tease with a playful grin, leaning casually against the door frame, trying to mask your surprise.
But Natasha doesn’t return your smile.
Instead, she tilts her head slightly, one brow arched with an unimpressed expression and pulls her jacket open just enough to reveal the black cat nestled comfortably in her arms.
Widow is still clinging stubbornly to the small package in her claws.
Your grin falters immediately, your gaze dropping from Natasha’s face to Widow and the damning evidence she’s holding.
Realization hits you like a wave, and your once-confident smile dissolves into a look of sheepish acknowledgment.
“Oh,” you murmur, awkwardness settling in as you glance between Natasha's unimpressed stare and Widow's innocent eyes.
“Well,” you sigh, stepping aside to open the door wider, “you might as well come in.”
Natasha steps past you, her eyes sweeping the room in quiet observation.
Your apartment is neat, save for the scattered cat toys littering the room. Natasha takes it all in quietly, her gaze eventually falling back on you—specifically, your night attire.
You’re wearing a black oversized t-shirt and shorts, casual and comfortable, but it’s the symbol on the front of the shirt that grabs her attention.
“Nice shirt,” she comments, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
You glance down and immediately realize what she’s referring to—the iconic red hourglass symbol of the Black Widow emblazoned across your chest. Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms defensively over the logo.
“This doesn’t prove anything,” you remark. “I’ve got shirts with the other Avengers symbols too.”
“Sure you do,” Natasha teases, clearly enjoying the moment before her attention shifts to the cat in her arms. She nods toward Widow, who’s still gripping the package as if it were a prized possession.
“How do you get her to let go of things?”
A proud grin spreads across your face at the cat’s actions.
Walking to the kitchen, you rummage through a cabinet, pulling out a small tube of cat treats before returning to Natasha’s side.
Tearing it open, you hand it to her.
Widow’s sharp yellow eyes instantly zero in on the treat. Natasha, intrigued, waves it in front of the stubborn cat.
“How about a little trade?” she offers.
The cat’s eyes follow the snack in contemplation. Slowly but surely, her grip on the package loosens, her claws retracting as she reaches a paw toward the treat.
Seeing the opportunity, Natasha quickly snatches the package and shakes out its contents—a USB drive, which she tucks into her jacket.
When Natasha still has not promptly given her reward, Widow yowls in protest, having already upheld her end of the deal.
Natasha huffs lightly at the exaggerated behavior but relents and offers the treat to the eager cat, who devours it with delicate bites.
“I guess that means mission accomplished,” you quip, attempting to bring some levity back into the room.
But Natasha doesn’t laugh. She glances up at you, her expression shifting as her playful demeanor fades.
“You said you didn’t do this kind of thing anymore,” she says, her voice edged with accusation.
You shrug, hands raised in defense.
“Technically, I didn’t,” you reply, though Natasha’s piercing stare cuts through your weak deflection.
With a tired sigh, you rub the back of your neck before continuing, "Remember that post I asked you to take down?"
Natasha nods slightly, her eyes never leaving yours, silently urging you to continue.
“Well, some of my old associates saw it before you did. And let’s just say…we didn’t part ways on the best of terms.”
Natasha places the finished snack on the table, her fingers moving to absently scratch behind Widow’s ears as she processes the situation. Her eyes narrow, her tone shifting to something more serious as concern creeps into her voice.
“So, they’re forcing you to steal for them?”
You lean back against the counter, exhaling a heavy breath.
“They have leverage,” you reveal cryptically. “If I don’t cooperate...things get complicated.”
Her fingers pause in Widow’s fur, her expression hardening as the situation sinks in.
“Then why help me? Wouldn’t that put you at risk?”
You manage a wry smile.
“If the Avengers get involved, they can’t hold it against me, right?”
You gesture toward her, adding teasingly, “I mean, what can one simple thief do against Earth’s mightiest heroes?”
Natasha shakes her head, frustration and disbelief mixing in her features.
“That doesn’t guarantee they’ll leave you alone.”
“And like I told you before,” you say, voice soft but resolute, “let me handle it. You’ve played your part. Now go be a hero to someone else.”
Natasha huffs, more in disbelief than anger.
“So you used me. Again.”
Her tone has no malice, but the sting of truth lingers.
You step closer and reach out to adjust the collar of her jacket. Your fingers brush her skin, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
“Like I said,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, “you shouldn’t get involved with someone like me.”
Widow purrs contentedly in the stillness, oblivious to the tension in the room, nuzzling against Natasha’s hand affectionately.
Natasha’s gaze softens slightly at the sight of the cat—remembering what you once said about Widow being a good judge of character.
If this little creature, with all her instincts, trusts someone with a past like hers, then surely there must be a similar reason she chooses to be with you.
When Natasha looks up, her eyes lock onto yours, steady and unwavering.
“What if I want to be?” she asks quietly, her voice laced with something far more than just concern.
Your breath catches, the vulnerability in her words taking you by surprise. You quickly school your expression, forcing neutrality even as your heart pounds in your chest.
Natasha steps closer, the heat of her body brushing against yours as close as she can, her gaze piercing.
“Do you want me to be?” she asks softly, the challenge clear in her tone.
For a moment, you meet her gaze, steady and unrelenting, but your eyes betray you. They flicker, just briefly, to her lips.
Natasha catches it. Her lips part slightly, and the air between you thickens with tension, both of you standing on the precipice of something neither can quite name.
But you break first.
You step back, clearing your throat as if that could dispel the weight of what just passed between you.
“As tempting as that is,” you say, your voice thick with the emotions you’re trying so hard to suppress, “I can’t let anyone else get caught up in this.”
Natasha doesn’t move, her eyes searching yours for more explanation.
However, you reach for Widow instead, gently lifting the cat from her arms, using the small creature as a shield between you.
“This one’s already enough trouble,” you joke weakly.
Natasha’s gaze lingers, watching you with a mix of exasperation and something deeper—something you refuse to name. She tilts her head, her voice soft.
“You know my job is to help people, right?”
You swallow hard, the playful smirk returning, though it feels hollow.
“And I’ll let you know if I ever need it.”
Natasha narrows her gaze, unconvinced. “Really?”
Rolling your eyes, you offer a small concession.
“Fine. Check in whenever. You’ve got my number, remember? And I’ll even send you cute pictures of Widow often to keep you from worrying too much.”
Widow chooses that moment to let out a soft meow, raising her paws beside her face as if on cue.
Natasha’s stern expression falters, a tiny smile tugging at her lips at the sight. But even as she shakes her head in resignation, the tension between you both lingers, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
With a small sigh, Natasha accepts your decision and steps toward the door. As she reaches for the handle, she pauses, her hand hovering there momentarily before turning to look at you again.
“If you ever decide that you don’t have to handle everything on your own,” she says softly, “you know where to find me.”
You nod, your mask of indifference slipping back into place.
“You’d be the first one I’ll call,” you promise playfully.
Natasha lingers for a moment longer, her eyes searching yours for something that never comes. She finally opens the door and steps through, pausing briefly before turning back to you.
“Take care of yourself. Both of you,” she whispers before leaving, the door clicking softly behind her.
The room feels emptier in her absence, the warmth of her presence fading.
Widow stirs in your arms, hopping onto the counter and letting out a soft, sad sound as if sensing the change in the air.
You lean heavily against the counter, exhaling a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
Natasha's words replay in your mind, sinking deeper into your heart than you will admit.
But as always, you push it aside. There’s no room for doubt, no space for second-guessing—not in your world.
Uncurling your fist, the USB falls from your hand—swapped from Natasha’s pocket with another containing misleading data.
Widow trots over to the item on the counter, nudging it with her paw before turning to you, letting out a sharp meow, almost as if scolding you.
“I know,” you sigh, guilt settling in as you scoop her back into your arms.
You stroke her gently, your hand brushing over a slightly raised patch of fur. The reminder of what's beneath fills you with concern for the little feline and your position.
Widow meows again, tilting her head curiously, oblivious to your worry. You force a reassuring smile, though it never quite reaches your eyes.
As your gaze drifts toward the window, your expression falters. You watch Natasha’s silhouette disappear into the shadows, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.
“She really shouldn’t get involved with someone like me,” you whisper sadly, giving Widow one last scratch behind the ears before turning away.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
a/n: I have decided to make this into a series. It's probably not going to be like my other one with extensive plotlines and such (I don't think). But maybe leaning more toward light-hearted adventures and interactions between the two (and Widow). Thanks again for reading! I hope you'll enjoy this series too!
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff x you#black widow x reader#natasha x reader#natasha romanov x reader#natasha romanoff
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Domestic Headcanons W/ Toji, Megumi, Tsumiki, and Mama!Reader
TW/Warnings: Profanity, Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Pregnancy, Mention of Sperm but not sexual, unhinged crack, too long(LMK if anything else needs to be tagged)
Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader
Pronouns: She/Her (Usage of Mama, Wife, Mom, Mother)
Word Count: 10k words
This headcanon is paired with this one right here. This can be stand alone for general/modern au. But this one mostly revolves around my Toji Lives AU.
Also, I'll be posting either my Toji/Megumi/Reader mini series or Suguru/Satoru/Reader series this week. Here's the form if you wanted to be tagged in my works. Please let me know if something's up with it.
[!!Edited and Proofread! 3/27/2024 11:48 pm CST!!]
The married life with Toji isn’t any different from prior to marriage. You two live in a fairly spacious apartment for Tokyo Standards and well furnished on top of that.
The basic routine of you and Toji as followed: Toji wakes up and gets ready in 10 minutes, gets the coffee going or anything you drink/eat for breakfast, you wake and get ready for work, you and Toji eat breakfast together for a bit, Toji gives you your work bag and lunch, gives you a kiss and sends you out the door on time, cleans the dishes and table once you leave, looks to see if there’s anything you’re low on or out of and makes a list for it, Toji does some house chores before leaving to go run errands, goes to run said errands and buy some groceries, comes home starts meal prepping, you come home as soon as he’s finished cooking, both of you eat together, then chilling on the couch together after cleaning up, Toji forces you to go to bed, does your nightly care routine with you while brushing your teeth, then pulls you into bed where both of you are knocked out instantly.
House Husband Toji and Working Wife (Y/N) dynamic, I don’t make the damn rules. Well it makes sense as you have a sustainable and consistent job that pays comfortably for minimal work. Honestly, Toji doesn’t mind it at all but you both established your roles in the relationship but help out whenever possible. In fact, he loves being a stay-at-home husband. He gets to do his hobbies and chores without distraction, having a piece of mind, cooking food with you, etc. Highkey loves being domesticated.
While yes, he does get an occasional high paying job/bounty from Shui, they happen a couple times a month. But even then it’s few and far in between. You don’t mind working, your job pays you enough to not take any overtime and you never work the weekends. Plus you get a raise and bonus once in a while so you’re not scrambling to find a second job. Also, it’s worth it since Toji takes care of your shared apartment and you.
Both of you are financially stable to the point of comfort. Like only paying utilities because you and Toji own the apartment. Not having to worry about buying food or paying on time. Not taking up extra hours or shifts to just live. It’s a comfortable and stress-free environment you and Toji have created for yourselves.
Doesn’t understand the fuss about men not being stay at home material and it’s a woman’s job. He just thinks those guys can’t take care of themselves and will force someone to baby them under the guise of tRadItIonAlIsm or some bullshit. He understands if both have their jobs and work to split the house chores. It’s not a luxury everyone has and he knows he’s in the small percentage of people who get to stay home while their spouse works. If it works in the relationship, it works, Toji says. It might not work for some people but you working and Toji staying home works for your relationship. If not, it has made it healthy because there aren’t severe or frustrating arguments about house chores, errand runs, cooking, maintenance, home management.
You do anything in order to help out Toji because that’s your home too. Therefore, your living space you share and it’s your responsibility to at least take care of it. After work, you text Toji if there is anything you need to pick up or do for him while you’re out. 75% of the time he says there’s nothing you have to do, but the 25% is Toji asking you to pick up the dry cleaners, some food items he forgot to get while out, check if there’s a sale going on, or buying detergent and stain remover. Also text with a:
‘Doll, can you actually grab a few things from the supermarket? I’ll send the list to you.’
‘Hon, would you be able to pick up my jacket from the dry cleaners? Thank you’
When you say yes or of course, he’s hitting you with the:
‘Thank you, Sweet Girl. I appreciate all you do.’
‘Stay safe, (Y/N). Call me if anything happens. Love you, Baby’
Talks about buying a house and having a family happen a lot more frequently since the two of you got married. You always wanted to have a family of your own but wanted to wait for a good man to be a good father because you can choose a husband but your children can’t choose their father. But you knew Toji would step up when it happened. Toji didn’t think too far into his future but he knows he wants to have a family with you and grow old together. You changed his mind that he was okay with having a family and doing all that it takes to be a loving father and husband. As if he doesn’t do that already.
That and you two talked about how your genetics would make the most beautiful and good looking babies. Toji would say he wants your kids to have your smile and personality while you told him you want them to have his eyes and nose. This is one of those late night talks you have with him that you absolutely love.
You have an ungodly amount of money saved up to pay the house off in full or less than two years. You decided on one where it was a mix of modern and traditional. It was within walking distance of multiple subway and train stations while not being near the busy parts of the city. It’s in a more quiet suburb with good schools and nature. It’s a big home with the exterior of a traditional home but the interior is a little more modern. The main building is two stories and is the actual house, the building connecting to it is for guests, training/workout room/and a meeting room. The walls that surround the property are tall and sturdy. It looks like a mansion but feels more homey as you two start to make it your own.
So when you tell Toji you’re ready to have a baby, the man goes all in. Trying to watch your cycle and listens to the doctor in increasing his chances of getting you pregnant. Man looks up recipes that increase your fertility rate and balance out your hormones. Thinks about checking his sperm count but you declined saying Toji hasn’t done anything to decrease his numbers.
He definitely got good aim because it didn’t take long to get pregnant. After like 2-3 months of trying, it happened. You missed your period by a week and you decided to get a pregnancy test. You got the double lines and were excited to show Toji. He went to drop off your jacket to get it fixed and came home to find you sitting at the table with a napkin. You tell him to sit and he complies with a bit of concern. You gesture to the napkin and he picks up to see the positive text in front of him. He asks are you for real and you just nod. He pulls you into his laps and holds you while saying thank you and I’m going to be a dad.
Becomes protective of you instantly. Having morning sickness? He gets you a towel and some medicine. Sensitive to certain foods or smells? He will change them to your liking. Need him to do something for you? He’s already a flight of stairs ahead of you. He doesn’t want to stress you and the baby out so he’s doing everything.
As trimesters progress, the more protective and conscious he comes. Once you start showing, say goodbye to carrying items, doing some household chores, running errands, or fucking walking because this man will NOT let you do them. Is at your beck and call for anything and will become scary if people give you a hard time or look at you funny. Toji told you if your boss gives you a hard time, call him and he’ll talk to your boss with no fear or hesitation whatsoever. Once almost killed a man because he accidentally bumped into you. Toji had this look of death in his eyes as he grabbed the guy by the collar and forced him to apologize to you. Make sure the guy actually apologizes too. Walking? Who is she? You are only walking a couple of feet before he says ‘nah’ and picks you up to carry you. You tell him you can walk but it falls on deaf ears. Then you get concerned about being heavy for Toji. The man has never been more offended in his life. He looks at you, dead in the eyes, and says: “What kind of husband am I for not being able to comfortably carry my beautiful and pretty pregnant wife? If I can’t carry you, I need you to kill me, (Y/N).” You just get used to him carrying you around.
Always find a seat for you on a bus or the train. Will scare a guy who isn’t tired from work to give you the seat. Always hold your hand during the rides.
Talk to your bump every night. Hands on your stomach, face unbearably close to it, kneels on the floor or lies in bed to talk to it as you run your fingers through his hair. He’ll say some things that make you laugh but he mostly say sweet and warm things to your baby as he just wants to love and protect them. Definitely says:
“You know your mama is the prettiest and most beautiful woman out there? You’re so lucky to have her because you will be unconditionally loved and cared for. How do I know this? Because your mama loves me too, Kiddo.”
“Hey, be nice to mama. She’s not having the best time so I need you to go easy on her. Please, little one.”
“Hi, this is your old man speaking to you. I don’t care whether you’re a boy or girl. I will always love you no matter what. I wanna meet you soon.”
Does the thing where he lifts up your bumps to alleviate some of the weight for a bit and smiles when you relax into him.
When he touches your bump and feels a kick, he is so happy that his head is glued to your bump so he can feel it.
Buys your cravings whenever and whatever it is. It could be late at night and you’re asking him to get you your egregious food combo. He doesn’t understand your cravings but will not complain to you until it’s a straight up abomination. THEN, he just cooks you anything you want because he’s lowkey scared about your cravings affecting your health.
Daily/Hourly reminders of how beautiful and gorgeous you are. Body worshiping and praising, especially since you are carrying his child. The amount of reassurance and sincerity that comes from his words makes you cry a lot, and it’s not because of your hormones. He’s so sweet and loving with his words towards you, it makes you fall in love with him all over again.
Goes to every appointment with you and never fucking misses one. Actually, he is the one to remind you about them. Has this soft look in his eyes as he looks at the ultrasound seeing your baby. Asks for at least two copies so he can frame one of them and hang it somewhere in the house.
Doesn’t care if it’s a boy or girl, as long it’s half of you that’s all that matters.
You always tell him your love and appreciation for all that he has done for you and the baby since he has a tendency to push himself a lot more than he has to. A kiss and a hug will do the trick because he goes all soft for you every time. It’s amusing to you how your huge, seemingly intimidating, husband can become a warm melted putty at the snap of your fingers. But then again, you have him wrapped around your finger completely.
Grows more cautious and protected once you go on maternity leave in your final months of the final trimester. Constantly asking how you are feeling that day or hour, grabs everything within arms reach if there is anything you need or could get you, if you need help with everything in general. It’s not the point of overbearing or suffocating, it gets a bit annoying but you know Toji means well. You assume he’s concerned and worried for you and the baby because he is afraid you will have complications during the birth. It’s terrifying to him to know there’s a slight chance you could die while giving birth to your baby and he couldn’t do anything to help you.
So when you DO go into labor, man’s is a bit scared but also prepared with your bag ready in hand. Drives you to the hospital, checks you in, and makes you feel comfortable while giving birth.
Is holding your hand during the whole thing while wiping away the sweat off your forehead and face.
Says encouraging and calming words to keep you focused and at ease. Guides you through deep breaths and keeps you grounded:
“Take a deep breath for me, Honey.”
“You’re doing so good, Mama. So amazing.”
“I’m here with you, Sweet Girl. Keep squeezing my hand. Trust me, it doesn’t hurt. Hold onto me, (Y/N).”
Sheds a few tears when your daughter comes out and starts crying. Kisses your cheek and forehead while praising you for doing a phenomenal job.
Cuts the cord while you’re coming down from your intense birthing process.
Lets you sleep and relax while he cuddles and holds your daughter with his shirt off for skinship.
Once you wake up, he buys you any food you want since you’re not pregnant anymore. Spoon feeds you while saying you did a wonderful job and asking how you feel.
Once you hold your daughter, he’s over the moon. You look so perfect and ethereal the man thanks the gods for blessing him with you as his wife and your daughter, the proof of your love.
Lets you name her since she is a girl and the first-born. You name her Tsumiki because it’s a cute name for a pretty girl. She gets most of her traits from you besides her hair texture. Toji comments that a pretty girl deserves a pretty name because she was birthed by an elegant and demure woman. You chuckle at him and his sappiness but it brings you a certain type of happiness that Toji was expressing this side of himself more comfortably.
Once discharged, gets the car to bring you and your daughter to your new home where she’ll and her sibling(s) grow up.
Lets you have your bonding time with Tsumiki while you’re on your six months maternity leave. He lives to see you hold and carry your daughter around the house.
Takes care of everything in the house and helps you out during your postpartum. Reminds you of your beauty, that he still loves you and your body, how grateful he is for everything you’ve done for giving him this life.
Gets the hang of parenting faster than you did. Toji already knows how to burp, change, feed, and bathe your daughter.
Lets you sleep and rest more when Tsumiki cries at night by getting up to calm her down himself. Ends up sleeping in the rocking chair with her on his chest.
Tries to play and entertain her as much as he can. Toji is more of a stuffed animal guy than dolls because they’re more inclusive and genderless. But he will buy dolls for Tsumiki when she asks for them once she's old enough.
Tears up when she takes her first steps as she tries to walk towards both of you.
Her first words were Papa for sure but then Mama two weeks later.
Tsumiki is a fairly calm and happy baby. Moves around but isn’t super hyper and energetic. Very smiley and giggly baby that brights up the room she’s in. Always puts you and Toji in a good mood.
Toji is the type of guy to wait for you to give him the green light for another child. Even though the doctor says you’ve made a good recovery, he ain’t pouncing on you until you tell him so. Your doctor asked if she needed to write a note that you weren’t ready for another baby for some time but you told her you’ll be fine because Toji isn’t THAT TYPE OF GUY. On top of respecting you and your body, Toji highkey wants to have age gaps with your children. Like at least a year and a half or so they can be close in age and grow up together, but also give time for you and him to adjust to being first-time parents.
It was after Tsumiki’s first birthday that you said you wouldn’t mind having another kid. Then Toji and you tried for another kid. Happened fast per usual with minimal effort once again. Toji’s goo is pretty strong lol.
He was there with you when you took the pregnancy test and it had the fable two lines. Hugs you close and is excited to give Tsumiki another sibling.
Unfortunately, your second pregnancy wasn’t as forgiving as your first. In fact, your second child was pretty brutal on you. You were more sensitive to everything and your symptoms multiplied by three. It was a struggle but you managed to pull through but barely.
Hurts Toji a lot because you’re in a lot of discomfort compared to being pregnant with Tsumiki. Steps up tenfold to help out and make things better for you.
Tsumiki just plays on the floor in her pen as you watch her while dealing with her younger sibling and Toji's making food in the background.
When you both found out it was a boy after a couple of months, you told Toji he can name the baby this time since you did with your first-born. It threw you off a bit when he said Megumi, a name that means blessing. You talked about names before but this was a new one both of you haven’t brought up yet. Perhaps it was a name Toji wanted but forgot to mention
Man, Megumi was a hard pregnancy. He was an energetic one in your womb. Always makes you lose sleep, loss of appetite, or straight up moody. Toji always talked to Megumi, lowkey begging him to be more gentle on you and not be so rough.
Once Megumi was born, you knew that’s Toji kid because he barely took anything from you. The nose, the eyes, the hair, even his small pout, it was all Toji. Toji was crying once again that your son is born but he takes after his old man. Tsumiki was just happy to see the little baby that is her younger brother.
After Megumi, you and Toji decide that this is ENOUGH children for now. Especially since you have two children under the age of three.
Megumi, however, was an interesting baby. Tsumiki likes being held by both you and Toji, she never picked favorites. Megumi, on the other hand, was attached to you like glue. Technically, all babies are but Megumi never liked being away from you. Megumi was very clingy when it came to you, his mama. You have to hold him or be in his line of sight if you’re not.
Megumi is a certified mama’s boy. He’s all sweet to you, with his gummy smile and bright big eyes as he laughs when you hold.
His first and only words were Mama for a while until he said Papa.
Megumi becomes fussy and cranky if you’re not in the room. He wants you there when he wakes up, to feed him, change him, bathe him, everything. If Toji has to do it, it will take double the time because Megumi is all uncooperative and resistant to his father’s attempts to care for him. It helps if you’re in the room or nearby then Megumi will behave but if that's because he knows you’re there.
Baby Megumi glares at Toji over your shoulder when you’re making his and Tsumiki’s food. Toji glares at his son's back. As he gets older and can walk, Megumi always runs towards you. Place himself on the couch, floor, chair, any surface he can sit on so he is seated next to you. One time, Toji’s head was in your lap as you watched the news in front of you. Megumi was mad because he was supposed to sit next to you. But Toji was faster than him and sat himself where he’s currently positioned. Tsumiki was in front of the couch playing with her stuffed animals on the floor. Megumi decided to grab his doggy plushie and started hitting Toji’s face with it. Toji yelped while you grabbed Megumi and placed him in your lap. Megumi holds onto you while you and your husband exchange shocked looks.
Megumi purposefully and accidentally cock blocks Toji. It’s explained more in this headcanon here.
It’s exhausting to take care of Megumi because he always wants you and never Toji. It kind of sucks because you want Megumi to bond with Toji more as you also don’t want to neglect Tsumiki as well.
Both of you take turns caring for your two kids. It’s so cute to see Megumi bonding with Toji as Megumi smiles a bit more when he’s with his dad. Tsumiki just likes hugging you and so you hold her ever so dearly.
Tsumiki and Megumi never really fight, which you find odd since it’s common for siblings to fight with each other. That’s when you keep observing and notice Tsumiki will let Megumi have his way even though she didn’t have to. Though you appreciate her being an older sibling, you have to remind her she can say no to Megumi if she doesn’t want to. Also reminding her to tell you or Toji if anything happens and not feel scared or ashamed for asking for help.
But Tsumiki is such a sweet child, she says she doesn’t mind at all when it comes to Megumi. But you brought it up to Toji because you don’t want Megumi to become very spoiled nor do you want Tsumiki to feel it’s okay to disregard her needs. Toji understands your concerns and tries to reassure you that he won’t let that happen as they get older.
While you were away from work, Megumi snatched Tsumiki’s pillow pet dolphin from her hands and Toji saw all of it. Toji put Megumi in time-out while he comforted Tsumiki. She wasn’t crying but he could tell she would have if he didn’t step in. Toji refrains from yelling and acting out because you told him that’ll strain his relationship with the kids. It’s easier and effective but it has long-term effects that negatively affect the parent-child relationship and the child themselves, something you knew all too well. So Toji is patient with Megumi, telling him it’s not nice to take things that aren’t his, especially when it’s his older sister’s stuff. That he should understand that Tsumiki doesn’t like it when he does and only lets him have them so he wouldn’t get upset. Toji makes Megumi apologize to Tsumiki but Tsumiki already forgave Megumi.
Toji being patient with his kids is hard and always tests him as a parent. Then he remembers how you told him having a family with him isn’t going to be the easiest thing in the world. But children deserve parents who will love and care for them unconditionally, who will be patient and understanding no matter what, to not make them wish they were someone else in order to please their parents. You didn’t want your children to experience what you did growing up and you believe Toji is someone who will help you make that dream come true. So he continues with his gentle/patient parenting method because he knows it will pay off in the end.
Since you’re going to work most of the day, he’s always the one to take care of them. Toji always takes them to the park or outside so they can run around and be kids. Forces them to go with him to run errands so they can get used to it. Megumi hates this while Tsumiki loves it. After some time, they get used to it and ask Toji to take them on the errand runs. Like going to the local butcher for meat then to the supermarket for everything else. Toji makes this a learning experience for the two by teaching them how to pick and order what they want. He teaches them what each ingredient is and explains why he buys it. Because of this, Megumi and Tsumiki know how to do errands by themselves and get things on the way home from school if Toji texts them to get something.
Megumi doesn’t admit it but he always follows Tsumiki’s lead. Especially when they start going to the same school together. When Tsumiki gets a fever/cold and can’t go to school, Megumi is a little nervous because he’s going by himself. So Toji had to comfort Megumi that he will be okay and Tsumiki will be proud of him for being able to go by himself.
Tsumiki is a quiet extrovert but Megumi is a raging introvert. Megumi, due to his aloof nature, doesn’t have many friends. You became worried because maybe there was something you weren’t noticing with Megumi. So you went to get Megumi checked out and the doctor ruled it out due to his personality and high intelligence. The doctor says it’s common for some children to prefer their own personal space rather than making friends. Though it does encourage you to have Megumi expose himself to kids around his age so he’s not socially distant.
This is where you and Toji butted heads for a bit. You don’t want to force Megumi into something that he doesn’t want. But Toji wants Megumi to interact with other kids that’s not Tsumiki so he can make friends. Megumi just doesn’t like people who are not his family. That’s the conclusion you both draw in the end.
Jungle gym Toji. Ever since they could crawl, Megumi and Tsumiki have been climbing on Toji like a rock wall. They hang off his arms, hold onto neck, climb onto his back, they’re all over him. Well, Toji is built like a mountain so it feels like they’re climbing Mt. Fuji. Toji isn’t bothered by this at all. In fact, he likes it when his kids are playing with him.
When Toji works out, whether it’s outside in the courtyard or in the workout room, he has the kids nearby playing somewhere. Would definitely ask Megumi and Tsumiki to sit on his back while he does push ups.
Hides his old weapons in the shed outside the house, he makes the excuse it’s for gardening tools and snow shovels so the kids aren’t curious.
Doesn’t do baby/kiddie talk to his kids. Obviously he’s gentle when he speaks to his kids but he also isn’t going to dumb things down for them. He’ll speak to them like a regular person but has a soft tenderness for children. It’s actually pretty sweet to see it.
The type of man to say to his children, “Isn’t Mama pretty? She is pretty, right?” Saying positive things about you to Megumi and Tsumiki. Then the two will say those lovely words back. You do this with Toji too. Telling the kids “Papa’s strong, right? He’s so cool.” “Papa made us this lovely dinner. Isn’t Papa amazing, you two?” Shit it so cute, I swear.
Speaking of food, Toji makes their lunches. From preschool to high school, he makes Megumi and Tsumiki’s lunches. It’s a challenge as they get older because both have different food preferences but he takes up on it. Just like with your lunch, everyone is in awe and jealous of their food. It’s always something good every time and it always smells good. Yuuji and Nobara ask Megumi if his dad could make them one and the next day Megumi brings two extra bentos for the both of them. Courtesy from Toji himself.
The type of man to make the kids their character bentos and eat the scraps/leftovers. Like the picture where the kid has a cute breakfast while the parent eats the cut out bread and fruit left over.
Family nap time! This is quite common in the Fushiguro household. You come home from work, sometimes earlier than scheduled, to see them laid out on the floor with a blanket underneath them. Sometimes, if the weather is enjoyable, they would nap outside. Toji is holding both kids in his burly arms while Tsumiki and Megumi hold each other’s hands. It’s so adorable that you have multiple pictures saved in an album in the house. You would join them as well. A family napping pile.
Speaking of which, you have many albums from over the years as a family. Up until the present day, you have so many pictures of your children and your husband having their little family moments. Some wholesome, some embarrassing, others are cool photos or stolen shots. I don’t know if this fits Toji but I’m projecting here: he’ll have photos of your family throughout the years on the walls and tables of your home. But mainly, the ones he loves the most are the portraits of the family. They’re five of them. The first one is of you and Toji, the second one is you two with baby Tsumiki, the third is you holding baby Megumi as Tsumiki is standing with Toji, the fourth is the four of you with the kids who are six and seven, then the fifth one is taken from present day where the kids are teenagers while you and Toji haven’t aged at all. All of them have you wearing formal wear/Kimonos. He gets these personally commissioned and they’re 17 inches(43.18 cm) by 14 inches(35.56 cm), which is fairly large.
Since you work 6 hours of the day, Toji always takes the kids to and from school. It’s not a problem for him nor the kids as they know you are working and making mula for them. The problem is, a lot of parents believe he’s a single dad. More so, the moms of the other students. Toji wears his wedding band on his LEFT FINGER that’s SHINING when the sun hits it and people still couldn’t take a hint. As he picks up the kiddos, a lot of moms go up to talk to him to pass time. He knows most of them are trying to flirt with him, very few only genuinely talk to him. Toji doesn’t play games when it comes to his status and is very blunt if the woman can’t get the message.
“I have a wife.”
“I’m married.”
“The love of my life and the mother of my children is working right now.”
Bro, some of these moms are jumping hurdles just to get a chance with Toji. Toji would keep on flashing his wedding band and they are fucking delusional to think they still got a shot. Someone thought he was a widower even though you were ALIVE AND WELL. Toji felt his eyes twitch as he scowled at the accusation. Toji legit wanted to push her but can’t because he’s a big guy and all. ‘Fuck, I can’t put my hands on a woman. I’ll have (Y/N) do it instead.’ Toji tells you about this and he is more mad than you are about it, which you don’t blame him for. On Friday afternoon, school’s out and the parents are picking up the kids. Tsumiki waits for Megumi outside his classroom door as they always walk out together to get picked up by Toji. As they walked out, they were surprised to see you with Toji in your work clothes. They went into a full on sprint in your direction and you crouched down to hug them both. After giving each other a good squeeze, they hugged Toji. The look on the woman’s face when she saw you was priceless. Tsumiki was hugging Toji while Megumi was reaching for you and you took him in your arms. You turn around and feign a friendly smile her way with such an elegant but dominant introduction.
“Oh hi! I’m (Y/N). You never saw me here since I work as a (occupation). Toji takes care of the kids when I’m away working. But I come every now and then when I get off early. Thanks for keeping my husband company! Though, you shouldn’t press on a married man when he refuses your advances. I mean, it’s not like his wife and the mother of his children has resources when most of the population doesn't. So, try to refrain yourself from stepping into the deep end, Dear. It was nice knowing you!”
Toji thought that was hot af. Tsumiki was hugging Toji’s neck because she was tired while Megumi glared at the woman. After that, no woman ever approached Toji after that.
FAMILY OUTINGS!!! Ugh, you always have one every weekend with your family. The favorites are the zoo and the park. Megumi on Toji’s shoulders while Tsumiki holds both you and Toji’s hands, she swings in-between the two of you. You go to all the exhibits your children want to go to. Tsumiki likes the marine enclosures while Megumi prefers more of the forest and savanna ones. You never could forget the way your son slightly bounces on his dad’s shoulders when he sees an elephant. He lets out a gasp of awe while calling out to you, “Mama mama, look! Look at the elephant!” “I can see it, Baby. You like elephants, Gumi?” “Yeah!” “What about you, Tsumiki-dear?” “I think they’re cool, Mama.” Toji tries to feed the animals but the animals are so scared of him like he is the most dangerous one which is true. This also goes for festivals as well, wandering the stalls and food stands. Toji winning every game you stop by and getting prizes his kids want, if his kids want it he’ll get it. The whole day is fun but exhausting once you come home. Toji carries the kids home along with the family bag. The kids are knocked out and easy to tuck in as you and Toji decompress.
As the kids get older and mature, it’s easier to go places like Kyoto. Megumi and Tsumiki are more of exploring and sight-seeing individuals, which makes it easy on you and Toji so you don’t have to spend a lot of money to do those extravagant things. They just want to experience the surroundings and life without sticking out too much. They like the trips when you all stay at a Ryokan Onsen, it’s relaxing. Especially for Megumi since he’s away from Gojo, Itadori, and Kugisaki. He loves his teacher and classmates but they can be a handful to deal with. Once they get older, they have school and you and Megumi have missions so these family outings happen less. But if everyone’s home, you four go out and do whatever depending on the weather. Spring and early summer are good times of the year because the cherry blossoms are in bloom and the weather is pleasant. You usually go out and have a picnic when the trees are blossoming. It’s simple but sweet to get together so your kids will have some memories they can look back on fondly.
There is this scenario that I can’t stop thinking about but it’s Toji coded: After a day of family bonding, Toji is standing in the train while you and your kids are sitting. It was full but not crowded. During one of the stops, Tsumiki ends up giving her seat to a pregnant woman who’s around her late stages of the 2nd trimester. Toji pets her head as she stands next to him, holding onto his pants as you send a sweet approving smile her way. She sends one back as she grips onto Toji to steady herself. Megumi is in our lap, completely gone into the world of dream as he clutches closer to you. The stop before the one you all get off, Tsumiki helps the pregnant lady up and walk her towards the door. The lovely lady thanks her, gives her a piece of paper to her family bakery which your family become regulars later on, before waving at her and you two. Mouthing ‘You have a wonderful daughter.' You and Toji glance at each other and smile. As your stop approaches, Tsumiki asks Toji if she can carry Megumi. He asks why and she replies, “Because Mama’s tired and I can carry Megumi for her.” Toji glances down at you and see the droopiness as they flutter to keep themselves open. He crouches down, pets Tsumiki on the head, saying she is a kind and sweet kid but he will take care of it. He asks her to give him your bag while he exchanges it for his jacket. Tsumiki places his jacket around you and Toji tells her to get into your lap. She does and you wrap your free arm around her. The next thing she knows, he’s carrying you in both of his arms while you hold your children. Once the train doors open, the incoming passengers are met with a towering man holding his sleeping wife and kids in his arms. They part to make way for him and he WALKS the whole way home. His arms never tired or aching. Tsumiki smiles up at him and comments how cool and strong he is, “You’re always strong and cool, Papa.” He just chuckles in his whole deep, simp-worthy, DILF voice before crouching down to let her stand since she grabbed the house keys. She unlocks the door and holds it open for him. They take off their shoes as Toji places you and Megumi on the couch while Tsumiki gets her Sanrio blanket to place it over you and her brother. You wake up an hour later to Toji cooking dinner as Tsumiki uses her color pencils on her coloring book. You wake up Megumi and have dinner together as a family.
Has no problem carrying you and his children in his arms. Like he can carry a 8 year old Tsumiki and a 7 year old Megumi like it’s nothing. He can carry you, Tsumiki and Megumi around without getting tired. You do the trend where Toji is holding you, Megumi and Tsumiki as kids then you retake the same picture but when the two are in their late teens. The point of those pictures were meant to show Toji is still strong; if not, stronger after becoming a father. If the kids fall asleep on the couch while watching a movie, he’s carrying them to their beds. They did their homework late at night on the kitchen table and are too tired to go to their rooms, he will take them to their beds no problem. You fell asleep on the couch because you came home extremely late from work or a mission. Toji is getting you to bed with him using his oversized shirt as your PJs. When Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara are out cold from their sleepover, Toji covers them with a huge blanket and gives them each a pillow.
I discuss this a little bit in this but I’ll expand upon it here. Megumi and Tsumiki are way less traumatized. Megumi has sass and is aloof but that’s his personality. The reality is, Megumi isn’t as withdrawn or quick to make assumptions about people. He seems reserved but his walls aren’t thick or tall. He’s not going to summon Mahoraga in every death situation but just sometimes uses it as a last resort because he hasn't pushed himself to his limits. It’s more of the lack of knowledge behind his technique since you and Toji can only know so much. Plus you and Toji, specifically Toji, aren’t letting the Zen’in clan be near your children. Tsumiki also isn’t inclined to act more mature and take on adult responsibilities. She is allowed to be a kid and have a childhood, same goes with Megumi. Plus, the two are raised in a loving household. Is it a traditional one? Nope, not in the slightest. Their mom works while their dad stays at home. But it's a functional, healthy, content family. You and Toji have tried to set good examples for your children on love, relationships, and the process of communicating. There are some pitfalls every now and then. Yet Megumi and Tsumiki have seen honesty, patiences, and openness when you and Toji talk things out.
Plus they know the rule you and Toji have: never fight in front of the kids. Matters between you and your husbands are between you two only. You never wanted to drag your children into the argument themselves. Obviously, when they are younger, you have to explain to them that you and Toji weren’t on the same page and are mad at each other. As they get older, you explain what the argument/conversation was about transparently. Megumi and Tsumiki also notice how after you and Toji clear up things the both of you never made snide remarks about each other in the slightest. This helps the kids out a lot because they never felt like walking on eggshells. That’s why Tsumiki and Megumi never really worried about you and Toji splitting over bad blood. They know you and Toji aren’t going to stay stubborn for long and make up no matter the circumstances. But there was an argument that both of them never can forget. They didn’t witness it themselves but they knew it was the worst argument you both had, and this happened when Tsumiki and Megumi were TEENAGERS. It lasted for a WHOLE DAY, the longest you two have been in the waters of the aftermath. The two of them wanted to say something but they knew better when you and Toji told them to not involve your affairs. It was worrying them to the point Megumi asked Tsumiki if this would create a rift. However, being the older sister she is, says the both of you will work through it. And she was right when the two of them came home to see you and Toji on the engawa wrapped up in each other’s arms with a blanket over you both.
Tsumiki loves the flowers and plants in your garden beyond the courtyard. When you take her outside and show her the pretty flowers and plants, she has this sparkle in her eyes as you touch and hold the flowers up to her. As she gets older, she spends most of her time in the garden as you are sitting under the tree with your blanket keeping the dirt away from you. When you mentioned to Toji the garden would look better if there were more plant diversity, the man is handing you a list of your favorite plants and flowers you want. The next few days to weeks, the plants you wanted are already in your garden and blending in well with your home. He is also doing this legally, and doesn't want to be a bio-terrorist by accident.
Toji does this with Tsumiki too. She had this book about flowers from her school’s library and told him that those flowers were pretty and nice. She kept drawing them, saying they would look good in the garden. The next week, there was a bush of them in her favorite spot. Your garden becomes the Garden of Eden with the amount of plant life you and Tsumiki bring in. You do basic gardening but Tsumiki and Toji have the green thumbs in the family. They’re the ones doing maintenance on the garden. Mostly Toji since Tsumiki goes to school and isn’t always home.
Toji does all the planting, replotting, mulching, everything a garden needs. The type to cut the hedges into a perfect shape because it fills his ego and makes him productive. Like one time, Megumi brings over Yuuji and Nobara to hangout and they see Toji cutting the hedges into a cool dragon. Toji wipes the sweat off his forehead to see the fruits of his labor, smirking to himself saying, “I’m so fucking good at this. I’m literally the best.”
Megumi lets his Shikigami out into the garden because they like to hang out outside. The only ones allowed in the house are his divine dogs because Toji doesn't want to see a huge owl or elephant in the living room.
Come to think of it, you and Tsumiki are the main ones who decide what goes in and out of the house. The flowers and the garden were just an example. Furniture, appliances, the color of the blinds and curtains, the interior and exterior, hell everything at this point. If you and Tsumiki made a comment about the appearance of something and it started with the words if, what, wonder, he’s already pulling the catalog for ideas. It’s mostly curiosity but if both you and Tsumiki bring it up, he’s changing it to your liking. Megumi never understands this because he’s the “it is what it is” or “I’m fine with it.” Megumi would be visiting home from school and sees Toji rearranging some of the furniture or building something from scratch in the backyard and he doesn’t question it.
Speaking of which, besides the appliances/photos/silverware/complicated items, almost everything in the house is made by him or customized by him. Tsumiki and Megumi’s rooms? Toji made them into their liking. The main bedroom? All Toji’s work. Not one spot in this house hasn’t been adjusted or changed by Toji. That’s why you credited your house to being the perfect home, all because of Toji. You always remind him that his work is much appreciated around this house. He’ll just smirk but you can see the way his ears fade into a pink rose color. He loves it when you say stuff like that to him. IF the kids say it to him, his grin is stuck on his face for a whole 24 hours.
THE HANGOUT HOUSE! You know how there’s always that one friend where almost every hangout occurs at their home? That’s Megumi, it’s literally him. Technically since Yuuji permanently lives in the dorms and Kugisaki used to live in the countryside, Megumi is the only person in the trio to have an official home. They pass by it a lot when they go exploring or hanging out. Megumi never said anything but the two notice how he stares at it for some time. Then some shenanigans happen and they had to take cover in Megumi’s home. Mind you, Yuuji and Nobara were looking at Megumi like he committed a war crime when he b-lined to the house. And they know it’s a nice house. They were yelling at Megumi saying they were trespassing and they’ll be in some deep shit if they get caught. But Megumi yells at them to trust him as he opens one of the doors. Then Yuuji and Nobara start begging him to not get them killed because they finally see that the home is a literal MANSION. They think they’re cooked by whomever lives here. But from Megumi’s reaction, they’re wondering if Megumi knows the person that lives here. Then when they go inside the actual home, they slide off their shoes and walk to what’s the common area of the house(kitchen/living room). Then Yuuji notices one of the photos and sees kid Megumi and three other people. Nobara shoves herself to see it and they both turn around to Megumi grabbing a pitcher of some sort of drink out of the fridge. “YOU LIVE HERE, FUSHIGURO!?!?” “Oi, not so loud! My sister isn’t home yet but my parents are so quiet.” They don’t meet Toji here but later on because he was doing something with Shui. But you pop in and the students instantly recognize you. You force Megumi to show them around the house and they are in absolute awe. The moment they see his cool ass room, this house is their default hangout spot.
Sleepovers happen often, Megumi doesn’t want them to but you insist since he could just use one of the bigger guest bedrooms or his own room if he wanted. They stay up watching movies, shows, or watching youtube videos or documentaries just because. They do the laughing challenge to see if Megumi actually laughs. He does but fewer far in between.
Toji embarrasses the hell out of Megumi. You don’t purposefully but by accident. Yuuji and Nobara would see Toji going into the kitchen to get a glass of water, see the color drain from Megumi’s face, then ask Toji about anything relating to Megumi. Then Toji spills the TEA on Megumi, it’s so funny. If Megumi won’t spill then his dad definitely would. Megumi’s face becomes like a tomato when anything about him comes out of his dad’s mouth.
Your house is stocked up on everything. There’s nothing in this house you wouldn’t have. Nobara needed some period products and you literally gave her a basket full of them. If she needs something else, you run to the store to get it for her. Yuuji forgot his toothpaste? You gave him a new tube and another one for his dorm. You tell them to ask you or Toji for anything if they need it. Nobara and Yuuji ask you to adopt them.
After a certain point, they just come over and ask for you instead of Megumi. He gets so annoyed and mad at them for it.
But you always insist on sleepover because Megumi finally has friends that he can call his own. It makes you happy he surrounds himself with good people and Toji agrees.
They know Megumi is balling in money which he always denies. But Yuuji brings up that Megumi has a Gameboy, Gameboy color, a DS lite, 3DS XL, a Switch OLED in his room. They’re all blue with every Pokémon game to have ever been released. He’s not beating the rich allegations.
Megumi is so irritated with Toji, it’s absolutely hilarious. I said it before and I’ll say it again: once Megumi is high school age, he’s an angsty teenager. Dude just gets so annoyed at his dad for existing, he only imagines it’s just you, him, and Tsumiki only. Toji asks him to do something, will do it but will grumble under his breath about it. But if you or Tsumiki ask him to do something, he has no attitude. Megumi is more softer with his sister and you but his dad? Nah, if he inherits everything from his dad, he’ll use them to his disposal against his Pops. He and Toji butt heads a lot but it’s never serious. Tsumiki sometimes wants to stop it but you tell her it’s a father son bonding thing.
Megumi inherited Toji’s grumpiness. Actually Megumi inherited a lot of things from Toji but he doesn’t want to admit it. Physically, Megumi is a mini version of Toji. Personality-wise, fairly similar. It’s just his hair curls up a bit but you believe it’s a recessive gene from a distant relative that decided to come out in a rare time.
Never tell Megumi he looks and acts like his dad. It will temporarily ruin his mood for like an hour or so. He legit got so mad. Put a side by side picture of the two and show it to him and he’ll walk away. If he’s compared to his mom? The saintess who does no wrong? Hell yeah he’ll take up the compliment. But his old man? He has his own personal beef with that. It’s when you or Tsumiki tell him he’s like Toji because you’re his family and know his antics better than anyone. But if it was someone like Gojo-sensei? He’s throwing a roast back. “Man, Megumi-kun. You’re just like old man Toji, grumpy and full of attitude.” “And that’s the same old man who was able to beat you and lived. I don’t wanna hear anything from you, Gojo-sensei.” Gojo cried to you about why your son was so mean to him while Suguru was absolutely done with him.
Tsumiki took a picture of Megumi when his hair was still damp from a shower, he looked so much like Toji. She showed you the picture and you asked her to send it to you. She shows Toji and Toji smirks to himself, knowing he’ll dangle that over Megumi’s head for as long as he lives. Toji gets his and Megumi’s side by side comparison framed in the house lol.
Sometimes Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko babysit younger Megumi and Tsumiki when you and Toji are busy. Tsumiki loves them, tolerating Satoru at best. But Megumi is irked by Satoru’s presence and only hangs out with Shoko and Suguru. Hates Gojo’s constant teasing but from pure annoyance. He and Tsumiki grow up with them and that’s why both of them know the three long before anyone else did.
Megumi gets irritated during Middle and High School because his parents are HOT. He remembers when his classmates from middle school would ask who’s the woman waving at him/man that grins his directions. Megumi grimaces and says “That’s my mom/dad.” Then his peers would start gushing about how gorgeous and demure you are/handsome and attractive Toji is. He wants them to shut up about it. If it’s only one of you, some of his peers would say, “Can your mom/dad fight?” Megumi wanted to punch them so badly, but refrains himself because he doesn’t want to waste his punches on a rando. It doesn’t help when he goes to the same school as Tsumiki, it’s the same THING. He knows people gush about him but he could care less. It just irritates him to no end when others do it on his family members. So when both you and Toji show up to school to take Megumi and Tsumiki out, everyone is just looking at Megumi and his attractive family. They can see where he got his genes from. His gene pool was created by divinity itself. His mom’s attractive, his dad’s attractive, his sister’s attractive, then they look at Megumi and see that he’s attractive. It gets worse with Yuuji and Nobara. They make remarks about it every time, how show stopping your looks are, his dad had people of all sexualities swooning, and his sister made people have hearts in their eyes.
Nobara: “That’s not fair! Fushiguro gets his amazing looks and genes from the two most heavenly beautiful people in the world and he’s not using them! God has favorites for sure.”
Yuuji: “But Fushiguro-kun is using his good-looks though, Kugisaki! He’s just the more silent, mysterious, aloof type of guy that every secretly wants, you'know?”
Megumi: “Can you two just shut it right now!? Stop talking about my parents or appearance! Focus on the damn mission!”
Family dinners are silent but content. Everyone always eats together whenever possible since Toji’s done cooking dinner at 6:30pm. There’s some talking here and there but everyone is more focused on enjoying the meal Toji cooks for them. The kids clean up after themselves and usually fill the sink with hot water to place their dirty dishes inside. They prefer to eat their dad’s cooking any day. Yuuji and Nobara come over to have dinner every now and then. That’s when it’s more lively since they’re always gushing about Toji’s food.
Your children are so protective of you because of their father. Toji tells them there are some people out there that won’t respect you and tells Megumi and Tsumiki it’s their job to tell him if anyone bothered them or you. They mostly tell him about the amount of men who try to hit on you even though you said you’re already married to Toji, flashing your wedding ring, when you pick up Megumi and Tsumiki from school. Toji shows up with you, sizing up every male in the vicinity while puffing his chest. You roll your eyes but silently admit it was hot. It doesn’t change when they get older, they just hide it better. You could be in the grocery store in the produce section and some guy is hitting on you. You don’t have your wedding ring on because your fingers were sore and it hurt to wear jewelry on your hand. But you wore it on in a necklace. The guy wasn’t taking no for an answer until he saw two people behind you, staring down this man. It’s your son and husband. Then your daughter pops up and steals you away to look at a sale of some fruits she wanted. Leaving the poor man in the wrath of Megumi and Toji. They only put their hands on someone if they harass you or down right disrespect in any form. Mostly they’ll give a talk to the individual that’s not so courtesy of you. The best thing about this whole thing? The teens and Toji saw it all happen and made it into a whole operation. Tsumiki was in on it too, bruh. The men collectively agree to stare down any person that looked at you funny. Tsumiki isn’t so serious but she’s more subtle with her warnings and hints. You remembered when Toji was talking to Megumi about dealing with these situations. “Megumi, when you bring your dogs out, I need you to have them bite the guy in the balls if they try something with your mother or snatch their bag if they’re a woman.” “TOJI!” “I was thinking about the same thing, Dad.” “MEGUMI (L/N) FUSHIGURO! PLEASE! I can’t with you two!”
Those family talks. Like when Megumi opens up to you or Toji about something, it could be anything but it’s mostly personal things. You know it’s serious when it’s just him sitting at the kitchen table while you and Toji are doing something in the kitchen. Hitting you with the “Can I ask you two something?” Then you and Toji give Megumi your undivided attention to let him know you’re listening and paying attention. These happen with Tsumiki too but she’s already an open book and isn’t as reserved as Megumi. You both give your commentary and advice when asked, sometimes you let Megumi rant or let out his bottled up feelings. Surprisingly, unsurprisingly, Toji gives out insightful advice that Megumi takes into account every time his dad speaks. This is also how you become closer to your son and daughter, even your own husband.
They are allowed to swear in the house but Toji’s rule is “You can swear but it can’t be towards someone.” But the kids didn’t swear until they were in junior high.
The house doesn’t have much talking but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. It’s the kind where everyone is enjoying each other’s presence with no need for talking. It’s functional in your household, so it works with your family.
Don’t remind Toji that Megumi and Tsumiki will eventually move out and have their own lives because Toji will get all soft and emotional about it.
Toji and you are living the dream life. A nice house and property. A loving family with two wonderful children to ever bless you and your husband. And a healthy life where your family is close. Toji never thought he could’ve had this life but he now he does. This is the greatest middle finger and ‘fuck you’ to the Zen'in clan.
#x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#toji fushiguro#fem reader#toji x reader#reader insert#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen megumi#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#jjk megumi#toji fushiguro x female reader#toji fushigro x reader#fushiguro tsumiki#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk headcanons#tw pregnancy#tw domesticity#mama!reader#wife reader#dad!toji x reader#dad!toji#Toji Lives AU#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jjk fluff
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I imagined a situation that I found funny.
Imagine, the entire Batfamily on the beach while making a point of hanging around the reader's neck so they can participate in family activities(Forcibly) . But the reader is not at all in the mood to be part of this fake family scenario, and decides to stay in the shade on the sand making a sandcastle :3 . Jason, seeing this, decides to provoke the poor reader, accidentally destroying the sandcastle :(. Angry reader throws sand in Jason's face. Causing yet another punishment and forcing the reader to sleep in Jason's room. Poor reader
Hot. It was really, really hot.
Of course it was hot. It was the middle of summer and you were sitting on sand that had been in the sun for hours. In this heat, what could you even do? You wanted to stay at home and sleep, but they didn’t let you.
They wanted you to come with them to the shore and practically dragged you there, ignoring your complaints. So, here you were, sitting under a palm tree on the scorching hot sand. Though, you had kind of stopped feeling the pain. You didn’t want them to come talk to you under the guise of you seeming “unoccupied”, so you started building a sandcastle.
Most of them were in the water, probably to cool off.
Yeah, the heat was starting to get to you…
For just a moment, you considered going swimming, but immediately decided against it.
First of all, they would certainly bother you. You could already imagine Damian wanting to compete with you to figure out who could swim faster (obviously him, but he wants to spend time with you). You could already imagine Dick carrying you around inside the water because you “can’t swim properly” (you can, he’s just looking for excuses to hold you) and you could already see Jason trying to “drown you” as a joke, despite the fact that you wouldn’t find it funny at all.
“Hey, aren’t you hot sitting there?”
Yes, that’s exactly what Jason would say to lure you into the water.
“Uh, hello? You there?”, Jason waved a hand in front of you face.
Huh, that wasn’t your imagination, that actually was Jason. You looked up unamused, ”No, I’m quite cold, really.”
He rolled his eyes, seemingly having caught your sarcasm,”Sure. So, wanna go swimming?”
And let you drown me? No fucking way. Oh, right, be polite…
“Um, no thanks”, you smiled awkwardly, not wanting to anger him and, as a result, Bruce.
“C’monnn, it’ll be fun. You do know how to swim, right?”, he teased, trying to rile you up.
“No”, you persisted, “Thanks…”
Jason crouched down next to you, clearly more persistant than you, “Oh, come on. Surely you’d rather spend time with me than Dick, right? If you remain alone for much longer, Damian will surely force you to do something with him.”
Ah…
Well…
You disliked Dick and spending time with Damian was…tedious.
Jason wasn’t any better, though.
Noticing your silence, he spoke again, “Not a bad sandcastle, but I could help you make it better.”
“…”
“We could compete and see who builds better sandcastles”, his smile was still present.
“Um…”, you looked around, trying to find a way to distract him.
“C’moooon. Here look, I’ll help ya”, he started adding sand to your castle.
“Wait! Nonono! Don’t touch that!-”, you froze after seeing your entire sandcastle collapse.
Silence prevailed for far too long.
You couldn’t think of anything to say. Jason, however, felt the need to salvage the situation.
“Oh, I’m…sorry.”
Sorry? He was SORRY?
The audacity left you speechless.
The only thing you could do was grab a fistful of sand at throw it at Jason. He dodged most of it, but he certainly felt your wrath.
To avoid further conversation with him, you got up immediately and left.
It took only a few steps for you to notice that what you had done was certainly punishment-worthy.
What would Bruce make you do? You shuddered as you remembered the time you had to hug and say 20 things you liked about Jason…yikes. Never again, you swore and yet, here you were.
You had barely gone a few metres, when you heard Bruce calling your name. When did he even arrive here? Was he here from the start?
You stopped walking and turned towards him. The look on his face was…stern. He did not seem very happy. Next to him, Jason was rubbing his eyes.
Wait, did you get sand in his eyes? No, you couldn’t have, he dodged it! Did he…lie to Bruce about what happened?
No, Jason wouldn’t do that-…
Well…would he?
Bruce called you over to him and Jason, so you slowly walked towards them, trying to come up with a good excuse to avoid doing whatever he wanted you to do.
#thanks anon ily mwa#also yayyy im going to poland and will be back in about a week ;DDD#(in other words: please forgive any late posts xoxo)#anyway enough yapping#rorii talks#dc comics#batfam#platonic yandere#x reader#platonic batfam#yandere batfam#jason todd#yandere jason todd#bruce wayne#yandere bruce wayne#yandere x reader#batfamily
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I cannot shake the thought of Logan (any era) just being infatuated with a bimbo reader! Wearing pink or light colors all the time. Short and cute little outfits that definitely get him riled up even when they don’t mean to. Basically just Logan fucking them dumb like the little bimbo they are🤭 (SORRY NOT SORRY)
anon ur onto something with this one hunni 🤌🤌
———
pretty in pink:
everyone thought that logan would only like people like a school teacher or jean — but that wasn’t always the case, no. logan’s real type? the type of girl that pushed every bad thought, memory, or nightmare from his brain? the type of girl that forced logan to remember that there were some good parts of lie? the type of girl that reminded him what it was like to be a fucking man?
a fucking angel of a woman.
oh, god — you were something. you were it for him. you had the type of innocent, doe-eyed expression that caused him to choke for a second — get the hiccups for the first time in decades. you looked soft — so soft, almost too soft for him.
he’d come to your bakery every now and then — not wanting to draw too much attention. you only wore light and bright colors, the kind that he never reached for when he had a choice. you were like bubble gum to him — sweet and light, ready for him and only him.
he didn’t want to be weird, no — he couldn’t. what if he lost you? his never ending days were growing longer, and longer and he needed something to hold onto — even if it was just a cup of black coffee and a muffin two (and if he was greedy) or three times a week.
“can’t i interest you in something else, sir?” you giggled, pausing while you rung his order. “you’re the consistent type, don’t want to fix somethin’ that ain’ broke — but i bet i could find you something you like.”
he let his lips give the faintest smile, but inside he was fucking screaming. the slight southern twang in your voice was enough for him to want to fork over his entire wallet to you. you had your pretty pastel scarves wrapped around his ankles and wrists and, ugh — would he give anything to bite into like the peach you were.
“i trust you, darlin — whatever you think i’ll like,” he rasped, trying to keep his cool.
when he saw your eyes sparkle, and a natural blush mix with the kind you brushed on — he knew he had you. even if it wasn’t as needy as the thing inside him — oh, he knew he had you.
he started coming around more and more after that — sometimes at night, right before close. hoping for the chance to take you out after. he noticed everything about you after the day he called you “darlin’” — the way your eyes raked up and down him when you first noticed him, the way your hips would sway a little bit extra in those tiny flowy skirts, and the new shade of light pink that was always on those perfect, supple lips.
oh, fuck — he was down bad for you. so bad.
it wouldn’t be for another month or two when the soft skin of your palm slipped between his fingers and pulled him into your office, under the guise of wanting to “show him around.” he could’ve tutted at the pick up line — but he didn’t care. how could he when you plopped yourself on top of your desk, and spread your knees ever so slightly?
you couldn’t help but stare as you watched the big, bad logan walk toward you with his hands in his pockets. there was a hunger in his eyes, one for more than just sweet treats. you giggled at the sight and folded your bottom lip into your mouth — tasting the subtle hint of strawberry that you hoped logan liked.
“been feeding me the best for months now, doll — you’re gonna let me thank you?”
his hands ran up and down the soft skin of your thighs, wanting oh so badly to travel underneath the thin and short skirt. you could feel the want from him, the need — because you knew it was the same as yours.
there was no time wasted when you slipped off those pretty pink panties and sling-shotted them at him. his eyes darkened when he caught them, stuffing them into his back pocket. he captured your lips in a kiss that made you arch your back into him — clinging to him for support. he couldn’t help but grab onto your perfect hips and roll them against his as the juices from your pussy leaked onto the rough denim of his jeans. you whined into his ear at the feeling, keening into his touch.
“that’s it, doll,” he spoke, thrusting two fingers past your folds. “i’ll take care of ya.”
he pushed your foreheads together, and your eyes drifted closed as your mouth hung open. he watched with an intense gaze at how those petal pink lips fell open for him — just for him. he kissed you hard, drinking in every whimper that was just for him.
he would’ve thrown your body down onto the desk and fucked you well into the night — but you wouldn’t let him, no. you were his good girl, and you wanted to please him oh so bad. you made him sit you both down on your desk chair, you bouncing on top of of his iron thighs. he made you take everything off then — your bra, panties, the world — except for those pretty pink socks and head band. your curls bounced on your shoulders, curling around the peaks of your nipples — and logan pawed at them hungrily.
your mind was frosting at this point — soft, creamy, ready to mold however he wanted you. you felt his hands roam up and down the soft skin of your abdomen, stopping to pinch at your breasts as they bounced for him, and just for him.
“that’s it, doll,” he grunted. “show me you can make a mess for me, yeah? be my good girl — that’s right —“
oh, you were — you so were. the smell and taste of him drove you mad — wanting nothing more than to have him stuff you full of his cum and have you both watch it leak out.
“please, lo —“ you whined, your back arching more as you caught the sweetest angle. “‘m so close for you —“
“fuck, that’s my girl —“ he wrapped his arms around you then, thrusting up inside your pussy. “too much for you, baby, huh? couldn’t take it?”
it sent you over the edge — causing you to fall forward and catch yourself with your hands on his shoulders. you rolled down onto his cock as the walls of your pussy tightened, tightened, and tightened. little gasps left your lips, but logan only heard them as cries — cries for him.
“yeah —“ his voice was gruff now, long and drawn out. primal even, only wanting to encourage you to let go. his hands were pulling at the flesh of your ass now, slapping at the sensitive girl. “keep cumming for me, doll. show me you can make a mess.”
“fucking god, lo —“ there were tears at your eyes now, mixing with the black of your mascara.
the sight before logan? his pretty in pink doll that liked to cook for him, crying for him because she felt so good? nothing better in the world. absolutely nothing. his balls tightened at the sight, forcing his hips up into your pussy. his lips wrapped around the tip of your nipple — sucking on it greedily as you rode out your orgasm, shivering against him. he came with another thrust, holding you down onto his cock.
“there’s my pretty girl,” he whispered, voice cracking as a bliss formed in his eyes. “so, so good for me.”
———
eeee sorry if it sucks love u <3333 -L
#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine smut#the wolverine#wolverine#logan howlett smut#logan x reader#logan howlett#logan wolverine
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𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒
summary: just some small baking hcs because i couldn't help but think about these guys while doing some baking myself
pairings: all students x gn! reader (can be read as either romantic or platonic, except for ortho)
warnings: just fluff, there is no concrete trope here, just random brain worms; reader is not specified to be mc/yuu
a/n: peer reviewed by @daisystwistedgarden who woke up to me spamming our dms with these ♡
twisted wonderland masterlist
HEARTSLABYUL
Riddle would be the most attentive student ever, taking notes on the exact ratio and the time you spent mixing everything together. Please don’t give him measurements like “what feels right”, he wants to know the exact amount down to the gram. One day, he wants to bake something for you by himself, but for now he’s content with sharing what you made together over a cup of tea.
Normally, the delicious smell of pastries and cakes comes wafting out of Heartslabyul’s kitchen with Trey at the centre of it, so the first time he comes to your dorm to see you baking, he’s pleasantly surprised. Obviously, he’s liked you before but now he looks forward to swapping recipes and spending afternoons side by side in the kitchen.
Cater would be posting all over magicam how cute you are and would fill his stories with candids of you kneading dough, taking stuff out of the oven, etc. He’d try to hide how flustered he gets if you tell him you made something savoury because you remembered he’s not fond of sweets.
The Adeuce combo would loiter around your kitchen, snacking half your dough without contributing any help whatsoever (Deuce tries, Ace never had any intention to from the start). One thing’s for sure: if Ace or Deuce ever have to bake an apology tart for an unbirthday party again, they already know who they’re recruiting. It’s also a great reason to stop by your dorm more often than they already do.
He would never admit it, if you made something for him, Ace would feel his heart beat a little faster. Instead he’d poke your cheek and make a nonchalant comment about how you must be so in love with him that you couldn’t stop thinking about him but the way his delivery stutters a little and the fact he can’t quite meet your eyes gives him away. Don’t mention if his ears turn red either (or tease him about it~).
Contrary to his roommate, Deuce is adorably honest about his appreciation for your hard work. You made this for him? Just because? There are a few seconds where his brain buffers while deciding what to do, would hugging you be too forward? But wouldn’t bowing be too formal? It’s honestly very cute to watch how his face flushes a colour that’s a nice contrast to the blue mark next to his eye as he stammers out his gratitude, especially if you’re not (yet) dating or haven’t been for long.
SAVANACLAW
Leona was probably lazing around your dorm already and you woke him up from a nap with the noise of kitchen equipment and the different scents filling the air. He’d slink over to watch you work, offering unhelpful comments while leaning his entire weight on you. Because of his upbringing his palette is obnoxiously refined but he’s the one helping himself to more of what you just took out of the oven, so he’s not sly.
Ruggie can smell that you’re baking something good before even entering your dorm. Sure, most beastmen have a keen sense of smell but when it comes to food, nobody zeroes in quite as fast as the hyena. He’ll join you in the kitchen under the guise of learning a new recipe from you- and he is! It’s just that he’s also sneaking a treat or two off your baking tray.
Jack would help carry and stir stuff for you but he’d mostly keep to the background and let you do your thing, afraid to accidentally ruin the pastries or what you’re making, his nose and tail do twitch at the pleasant scent though. Since he’s an athlete, Jack makes sure to watch his diet but he’d never refuse to try what you made.
OCTAVINELLE
As the head of Mostro Lounge, Azul is always on the lookout for new items to add to the menu, so he takes quite the interest in your recipes. With a few tweaks here and there… For him to enjoy them in private though, he’ll study the recipe for different reasons. Of course he will try everything you make at least once, but the housewarden is still very conscious of his appearance, so he’ll enjoy your baking in measured amounts.
Jade, much like his childhood friend, is very intrigued by what you’re making but not out of business reasons. The eel is much more interested in how your recipes compare to his native ones and he’s already thinking of new things to try the next time around. As with everything, Jade loves to tease and fluster you, so of course he has to show you how to perfectly roll out the dough by caging you between himself and the counter.
Perhaps you should think twice about letting Floyd into your kitchen. If he asks to let him help you, chances are he’s in a good mood, which is positive for his enthusiasm but detrimental to keeping your dorm clean. Sure, the eel is quite competent when it comes to preparing food but by the time your tray is in the oven, you, him and the floor are covered in flour.
SCARABIA
The first time you offered something homemade to Kalim, he had to refuse with a begging side glance to Jamil. Afterwards, he reasoned with Jamil that if he just joined you in baking, he could be sure of everything that went into the treats and so his vice housewarden relented. Against what people might think, Kalim is not actually half bad at baking, you just have to walk him through all the steps slowly. He might never have baked something himself before but he makes up for it with enthusiasm and the will to learn, plus he makes the whole thing super fun from beginning to end.
The first time Jamil sees you baking, it’s late in the evening and he just dragged himself over to your dorm for some much needed rest. But when he sees you working around the oven, there’s a split second where all the alarm bells in his head go off to thwart impending doom, until he remembers that you probably know what you’re doing and he relaxes. Old habits and all that. After that day, he’ll join you in the kitchen from time to time, if his schedule allows it. There’s no doubt about his capabilities, so Jamil’s always welcome to join you but he also appreciates that you don’t expect him to, which makes this a nice way to wind down for him. Also gets easily flustered if you make something for him and him only.
POMEFIORE
Vil would also compliment your hard work. Sure, he might offer some constructive criticism (if he knows it won’t hurt your feelings) so you can improve even further the next time around, but he’s also not hesitating to point out everything that deserves praise. He might click his tongue if you get cream on your face but will gently wipe it away and dust the flour off your clothes with a fond smile.
Rook is just as excited and eccentric as always, raving about the beauty of baking and how lovely you are for creating something so delicious. It doesn’t matter if you’re making the simplest cookies known to man, to him it might as well be a three tier cake.
Epel would be so happy if you made something with the apples his family sent him, but he appreciates it either way. He’s also really talented when it comes to decorating -probably because of his years spent carving apples- and he feels really manly when you ask him to stir something, knead the dough or carry ingredients.
IGNIHYDE
Idia is probably running through every anime and dating sim with a baking arc he’s ever watched/ played and his hair tinges pink as you invite him over. You’re at the intimacy level already to unlock this super domestic route? He really wants to save state irl, so he can keep coming back to this, both in case he messes up and to relive this moment.
Ortho would be a sweetheart, setting timers and looking up recipes and techniques if you’re stuck. He compliments your work and laments lightheartedly that he can’t smell or taste anything, saying he’ll pester Idia into inventing olfactory and gustatory receptors, so he can get the full experience next time.
DIASOMNIA
Congrats, you now have a very curious fae prince on your hands. Not only is he studying your recipes and ingredients with great interest, Malleus is just as fascinated by baking utensils running on electricity. Do yourself a favour and invite him for tea afterwards where you can serve your treats, he will be puddy in your hands.
Watch your bowls carefully when Lilia is around while you’re baking. There is a good chance the fae will try adding a few ingredients of his own and it will not end well for anyone involved. He’ll playfully pout about you rejecting his help and deflecting from the topic but a second later he’s laughing about how cute you are for wanting to make something for him by yourself.
Silver would fall asleep when surrounded by the good smells, the warmth of the oven preheating, your lovely voice and the kitchen sounds. He can’t help it, it’s such a relaxing environment and it puts him at ease and therefore also to sleep. But, ever the charming knight, he would help you clean up afterwards and very genuinely compliment your hard work with a soft smile.
Sebek will yap up a storm on how ‘your human recipes can’t hold a candle to briar valley’s supreme cuisine’ but he’s oddly docile once he actually taste tests. If you tease him about his earlier statements, he will flush red, trying to save face but also not wanting to lie about liking your baking.
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The Window (6 of 7)
Ch 01 // Ch 02 // Ch 03 // Ch 04 // Ch 05 // Ch 06 // Ch 07
AO3 Link
TW: lactation kink
The house is lonely without your boys, especially when your breasts are so full and achy. If only there was someone home to help you…
You settled into the house almost too quickly. You each had your own space, but the main bedroom was where you all spent most of your time. The bedroom was huge — one of the reasons John had picked this house — and the en suite bathroom could more than accommodate all five of you, if need be. But, when the boys were away, the sprawling, expansive house was… lonely.
They tried to leave you in shifts, but it wasn’t like they were logging hours at a normal job; it was war. War didn’t have a schedule. So, you padded around the house, trying to play some music or keep the television on, but it wasn’t the same. It was just you and… who?
You’d asked the doctor not to tell you the sex of your baby at your ultrasound appointment, and none of the potential fathers had been around to go with you. So, you were in the dark. You’d thought about names, and Johnny had offered a good many family names to keep you busy for a while. But, even though you had plenty to think about and plenty to do – you were still working remote on recon and data tracking – it was just an empty sort of existence.
To make matters worse, you’d hit a bit of a snare. Right at the sixteen week mark, you’d started leaking more than just a little milk. You’d woken up to a wet, messy situation, and you quickly scheduled an appointment. The doctor had taken some time to assure you all was well, but then, not even a week later, you had swollen, painful blockages and you were back in his office, waiting for more news.
“Looks like you just have tiny ducts,” he shrugged, looking at your scans. His hands were dry but chilly as he peeked under your hospital robe to examine your sore nipples, “You may need to express them. I know it may put you at risk of an early labor, but we can monitor you in the meantime. Try to only pump when absolutely necessary.”
So, you’d followed his orders. Once every few days, you pumped out the heavy, engorged globes that used to be B-cups, watching as your nipples filled jar after jar. There was no use in freezing it this early, so down the drain it went.
Now, at week twenty something, you were a walking milk nightmare. You’d never done so many loads of laundry in your life. The embarrassing thing about it though was that you liked it. Just the thought of attaching the plastic suction cup onto your breast was enough to make you slick between your legs, and the act itself was frequently pleasurable enough to send you over a climactic edge. To say that your nipples were sensitive was an understatement. But still, you tried to only do it when need be. You didn’t want to make a mistake.
When the boys came home, you filled them in on all the updates. Johnny was a little sad he’d missed the ultrasound, but it just added fuel to his fire of picking out names. He seemed even more interested in the pain-relieving, pleasure-inducing qualities of your breast pump, though. At dinner, you caught him staring down your shirt more than once when you tried to speak with him, and when you lay together on the couch, his hand was always massaging your swollen flesh, all under the guise of keeping you from getting another painful duct.
But, you knew the truth. His cock had never been so hard as when you started to leak through your top and had to go change, rushing to wash and find your nipple pads. Johnny stalked you into the large bedroom, thumb crooked in the waistband of his pants,
“You alright, bonnie? Need me to help you?”
“No, yeah. I’m okay. Just… dealing with the dairy farm over here,” you said, exasperated.
He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, watching you pull out the tubes and machine with all of its parts and cords. His hand fell to your thigh, squeezing you gently,
“Think I could do it instead?”
“You…” You turned to face him, hands still tangled in the pump, making sure you heard him correctly, “You want to try it?”
Johnny adjusted himself in his jeans, his eyes pinned to your cleavage, unable to look away even for decorum’s sake,
“Aye, lass. More than anythin’.”
“Um, sure. I think it’s fine. It all gets thrown out anyway. I’ll get you a towel,” you moved to get up, your belly now at a round enough size to be a hindrance, but he stopped you, pulling you back down roughly.
“Hey —” You protested, but he interrupted you.
“Sit down,” his voice was gravelly and heavily accented, almost like when he was drunk, “Let me…”
“Johnny, wait,” you tried to twist away from his grip, but he was too strong, “It’ll be such a mess. They’re so full right now. Just wait for me to—”
His eyes shot up to yours, pinning you in place, his full lips set in a hungry snarl,
“I dinnae need a towel, bonnie. I’m gonna taste you, messy or not.”
He let his vow sink in, and you could feel yourself melting, literally and figuratively, at his words. You didn’t fight him as he began to kiss you, smearing his mouth all over you, doing his best to shove down your tank top, stuffing the neckline under your tits, fumbling around the back to unhook the clasp of your bra.
“Johnny,” you breathed, your voice giving away the wet rush that was flooding straight to your core, “The laundry…”
“Fuck the laundry. I need to drain you fuckin’ dry. Right now.”
Your whole body responded to that comment. Your skin flushed hot and your sore nipples hardened, eager to experience the way his mouth would feel as he drank from you. You weren’t even sure if he’d know how to draw out your milk.
All of your concerns were cast aside as he settled you in his lap, pulling off your clothes like a much-desired present, tossing your clothes aside like wrapping paper to get to the good part. He fumbled with his jeans, freeing his thick, curved cock from his pants, pumping it roughly to spread his precome over the heavy head.
You helped him, angling your body over his dick and lowering yourself down onto him, as carefully as you could, spearing your pussy with his rod, inch by trembling inch, listening to him try to catch his breath. Once you reached the middle, at the deepest part of his curve, you struggled to fit him the rest of the way in, grinding forward and back, looking for that sweet spot.
Then, impatient and hungry, he finished the job, pulling you down by your hips and forcing himself the rest of the way. It made you cry out from the shock of it. It wasn’t necessarily painful, but his roughness was a stark change from how he had been treating you. When he knew about the baby, he spent a lot of time preparing you, using his mouth to lap at your pussy and prying you apart with his fingers. Always gentle and mindful of your comfort. But, not now. Now, he had his sights set on devouring you in the literal sense of the word.
“Johnny…” You gasped, rocking against his shape tentatively.
“C’mere, lass,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice sharp and commanding.
His eyes were fixated on your dark, round nipples, and as you rode him, grinding yourself down onto his lap, he latched onto your left breast, taking the meat of your peak all the way into his mouth. Then, he began to suck.
You thought it would be gentle and sensual, expecting it to be largely for his pleasure and not effective enough to get the thick, creamy milk out of your poor swollen ducts, but you were wrong. Johnny began to suck and swallow, suck and swallow, suck and swallow; a terrifying, rhythmic feeding, drinking from you like his life depended on it. You peered down at him as he delivered this unknown pleasure to you.
Johnny’s eyes were fluttering closed, the whites of them rolling back into his head, and he began to let out these long, deep, guttural moans. You could feel the relief in your breast the moment he began, and with each suck, you could tell that his mouth was filling with squirt after squirt of warm, sweet milk.
Your hips humped against him involuntarily at this point, too horny to think straight, and you realized that your right nipple had begun to let down, full as it was. You tried to catch it from dripping onto him, swiping away the white rivulets with your palm, but he caught you, realizing you were trying to take what was his.
He moved his mouth from your left nipple to your right, letting his score drip down his chin and neck, caring nothing for the mess. Then, he latched onto your right nipple just as he had the left, sucking and swallowing until his cock throbbed inside of you.
You cradled his head as he drank from you, using his neck and shoulders to keep you steady as you rode him, feeling him suckle against you over and over, your hot milk filling his belly.
“Havin’ fun without us, Johnny?” Price’s voice rumbled from the doorway, startling you. You tried to turn around, but Johnny had you in a vice grip, and all you could do was ride and whimper from his fucking and his feeding.
“John…” You moaned, and he stepped around to sit next to his sergeant on the bed, smiling at the two of you, admiring the mess you were making.
“Can I try, love?” Price asked, leaning forward to drink from you without waiting for your permission.
All you could do was moan, high and helpless, your pussy so wet that it was practically gushing over Johnny’s thick cock. As soon as you felt John’s mouth on you, suckling from you just as intently as Soap’s, you started to come. You felt yourself clenching around your hungry lover, flooding him with your orgasm, wrecked by their insistent mouths.
“Tha’s it, bonnie,” Johnny pulled away, white streams of cream falling from his lips, looking like he was drunk, “Come for me.”
Price was greedier than Soap, even though you weren’t sure how that could be possible, and he used his strong hand to knead and squeeze your tits, forcing your body to drop even more milk for him to drink. His mustache tickled your sensitive flesh, and you couldn’t see it but you could hear the twisting, slapping wetness of him jerking his fat cock as he drank from you.
“Fuck, she tastes so good, hm?” Prince crooned.
“Hngh, Johnny… I can’t…” You whined, feeling yourself start to become overstimulated, “I can’t…”
“You can, lass. And you fuckin’ will,” Johnny grabbed your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks, forcing you to kiss him. You could taste your own milk on his tongue. It was warm and a little sugary, like the dregs of a bowl of cereal, thick and creamy.
He released your jaw and went back to work, suckling from you with a relentless vacuum, making your head spin. You didn’t know how you were able to make so much milk, but it seemed endless. You were hypnotized by the way his throat bulged as he swallowed gulp after gulp of your body’s gift, sucking you down.
Price seemed just as hungry, and you saw how, from the corners of his mouth, tiny droplets of milk would escape and wet his beard, the white cream staining his dark hair. He teased you with his hand, leaving his cock to fend for itself as he smeared his precome all over your asshole. Then, as you rode Soap back and forth, thrusting against him with abandon, John put his finger against your puckered hole and let you push yourself onto it. As you canted your hips back, your hole would let your captain’s huge fingertip slide inside it. As you thrust forward, you would pull away, losing the feeling of fullness that he was giving you.
It was agony. You wanted him to fuck you on his hand, or to take you with his cock — as painful as it may be without prep — anything to make you feel filled up. But he didn’t; he kept his finger right where he wanted it, letting you fuck yourself with just the tip until you felt stinging tears in the corners of your eyes.
“Please, John… please…” You barely had any words left, but he knew what you wanted.
He met your eyes with his own as he took a particularly long suck from your sore breast, making you watch as he coaxed your nectar into his mouth. Then, he pulled away with a swift pop, licking across your swollen nipple to soothe the pain he had caused. He smiled at you, patronizingly, teasing you still with his finger,
“Does our girl need me to fuck her tight little arse?”
You nodded, barely able to keep your eyes open, overwhelmed by the pleasure,
“Yes, please… I need it. Need to come again. Please…”
“Fuck, bonnie. If you come again, you’ll take me with you,” Soap murmured, unwilling to take his mouth away from your tits too far, talking with his mouth half-full.
Price bent his head, returning to his rough suckling, filling his cheeks with more of your milk. But, this time, as you thrust yourself against Johnny, you felt two, curled fingers shove themselves deep inside of your asshole. Your whole body convulsed, your pussy clenching and gushing with wetness, twisting its muscles around Soap’s dick, trying to get him to fill you with his load. Your legs shuddered, unable to keep from shaking as you rode him, feeling numb as the tantalizing sensation of your stretched holes washed over you.
John fucked you without mercy, pulling his fingers all the way out and stuffing them all the way back into your ass everytime you thrust forward and back. You were screaming, and your poor, well-used cunt was pumping itself against Soap’s rod, making heinous slick noises as you rode him. Beyond any sort of politeness or gentility, your men were noisy in their feasting as well, slurping and sucking loudly, grunting every time you clenched yourself around them.
When Price added a third finger, you came again, your pussy quickly running out of room to accommodate them both. Soap’s hot seed burst inside of you just as he’d promised, burning your core and painting your walls with his come.
“Oh, fuck! Johnny, fill me up. Fill me…” You slurred, letting your head hang back limply, basking in the feeling of his orgasm.
Price took the opportunity to haul you off of Johnny’s lap and onto his own, replacing the emptiness in your pussy with his fat cock, sliding through his sergeant’s come and keeping his fingers in your ass as you rode him.
Even though he was spent, Johnny didn’t let up on his feeding. He’d ripped a page out of Price’s playbook and was massaging your breast with both hands, squeezing out every last drop from your body. When he finally stopped suckling from your bruised nipple, he licked you, over and over, running the warm flat of his tongue across your nipple to swipe up any stray drops, chasing your peaks as you bounced on your captain’s dick.
Price squeezed your tits in his hands, letting the one that was still full squirt all over his mouth and nose, covering himself in your cream. When he noticed Soap’s desperation, he switched positions. The sergeant fell onto his back, resting against the mattress, and the captain threw you on all fours, letting your tits dangle over Johnny’s open mouth. Then, he climbed up behind you, feeding himself back into your pussy.
As Price fucked himself into you, your breasts swayed back and forth, your nipples rubbing across Soap’s mouth as he moved from one to the other. You felt him latch onto the left one, drinking from you in thirsty slurping gulps, his puckered lips pressing onto your flesh with as much suction as he could muster. Meanwhile, your stretched cunt was being stuffed with Price’s shaft, his head invading your deepest parts, filling up your hole over and over and over.
Finally, when you were out of milk and practically sobbing from the brain-breaking orgasms you’d been given, he pulled out, flipping you onto your back and laying you right beside Soap, aiming his load at your bruised tits. His teeth were clenched as he grunted out his climax, painting long, white ropes of come all over your nipples.
You looked down, unable to tell what was his and what was yours, your breasts messy and covered in cream of all kinds. John’s hands came down and rubbed his spend all over your nipples, smearing it around them like a salve. Johnny leaned over you, licking up Price’s come just as greedily as he had your milk, latching and suckling from you over and over, even if you were empty, like a greedy puppy.
Exhausted, and with a belly full of breast milk, Price crashed to the mattress beside you and Soap.
Standing in the doorway, Gaz and Ghost looked down at you with smug, satisfied expressions, and Garrick chuckled,
“Better recover quick, babes. Got me workin’ up an appetite.”
#call of duty fanfic#captain john price#john price#call of duty#captain price#captain price x you#john soap mactavish#john price smut#soap smut#soap x you#sharing is caring#cod#sharing couple#fun for 3#poly tf141#cod mw2#poly 141#the window by the californicationist#the window
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