#and follow the chore chart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-californicationist · 2 months

Note

Let's get you to 100, new gif addition and prompt ask!

Reader likes being controlled, even as she chafes against it, but there's only 1 person she wants to have that privilege.

You decide who, have fun writing lovely 😏

heyyy!! im backkkkkkk 😘 sorry for the wait! had to go on a bit of a hiatus, so thanks for being patient. and thank you so much for the ask!! sexy as hell babes omg. hope you like it. i went a little overboard on the word count sorry 🫣

TW: light bdsm and contol themes, rough sex

Soft Reins

His voice followed you down the wet sidewalk as you made your escape, striding in long reaching steps to put more distance between yourself and your apartment.

“C’mon, bonnie! Ye cannae walk in this shite. It’s pissin’ down. Bonnie!”

You waved and smiled up at Soap as he hung over the balcony of your shared space, a deep frown pasted across his mouth as he tried to dodge the raindrops.

Living with the boys, as you lovingly called them, was full of challenges. For one, they seemed to be oblivious to deep cleaning of any kind, and if you didn’t have the primary school style chore chart hanging on the fridge, your whole house would descend into chaos. The only exception was their captain, and his standards were thankfully on par with your own.

But, even worse, they were nosey. They seemed to love to be in your business, always making excuses to join you on nights out, standing in an all-too-intimidating pack when you brought home dates from said outings. Even Price was not above casually bullying an unsuspecting potential someone. It was enough to drive a girl mad.

You never got a call back. Any bloke brave enough to follow you back to your place, flanked by your surly entourage, was only as courageous as he needed to be to get his dick wet. After that, he’d ghost you. There were plenty of eligible partners who had much less intimidating roommates.

In the past year, the longest relationship you had was with a man who didn’t make it over to your house for nearly four months. You had gone through all sorts of trouble to keep the boys from finding out about him, and you guarded his address like it was the nuclear launch codes. You thought you were in the clear when the team had to leave for another deployment, but one morning — when you were wearing only your boyfriend’s tee shirt — they decided to come tromping back in, totally unannounced.

It was all over, then. Back to the drawing board.

Gaz was the worst offender by far. Once, when you had planned a spa date for yourself, you’d been treated to all sorts of services that you didn’t order. The staff kept insisting that it was complimentary, but you knew in your heart that it wasn’t. By the end of the visit, you were left fretting about the bill. But, when you walked up to the counter, you discovered that it had already been paid.

“Oh! Your mister called it in. Already paid.” The clerk’s smile was blinding in only the way a clerk’s smile could be.

“And who is the mister?” You smiled to yourself, not with much joy, shoving your credit card back into your wallet.

“Well, he said he was your mister. A Mr. Garrick?”

Of course.

You had only to turn around to see his shining red Beamer revved and waiting to take you to lunch. Gaz’s sunglasses gleamed in the daylight as he grinned down at you, standing over his car, his elbows resting on the roof, smug as could be.

You met him in the parking lot, bags and bags of essential oils and spa creams, heavy in your hands.

“Kyle,” you said curtly, “What did you do?”

“Nothin’, babes. Get in. We’ve got a table at that sushi joint you like.”

You complained that Gaz was overstepping. You moaned about Soap being heavy-handed. You lost your temper when you found the fourteenth Air Tag that Ghost had sewn into the bottom of your trainers. It was too much. You hated feeling trapped, and you thrived in your independence. But, living with these men meant that your desire for freedom was directly at odds with their desire for control.

It wasn’t their fault, really. That was who they were. They were good at their high-profile special operation world-saving careers because they were good at control. It was what made them great soldiers.

But, one of them was far better at it than the others.

Captain John Price didn’t follow you down the street. He didn’t chase you in his shadowy, blacked-out Evija. And he certainly didn’t need to hide trackers in your clothes. No; his control was insidious. It made your blood boil, and it had you questioning your every move. He had a way of making you think that what he wanted was what you wanted, and when you ultimately discovered his plans, you could only blame yourself. Price was the king of control, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that you liked it.

You hadn’t been home for the holidays in years. Ever since lockdown, and your huge workload at your office, you just couldn’t find the time to make it back. International flights were hard to plan, expensive, and it seemed like something always came up. When you mentioned it off-handedly to Price, he’d comforted you,

“Tha’s alright, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll find the time this year.”

That was in June. By December, your boss had mysteriously found out that you had a full week of extra paid time off that you needed to take, and your credit card called you to let you know that your airline mileage points had doubled. It was as if everything in the universe had aligned so that you could make it back to your family.

You’d told the boys over dinner one night, and they celebrated with you, happy for you to be able to finally live your dream. Then, Price had grabbed your phone, reading the email and going over the fine print.

It grated on you, but you needed to learn how to pick your battles in this house. So, you waited for his approval, tight-lipped.

“Double miles… ah, there’s a catch,” his voice rumbled in his chest, low and even.

“What catch?” You panicked. Nothing could upset this perfect balance you’d achieved.

He pointed down to the conditions, and you read it for yourself as he told you,

“Says here they granted double miles for two tickets purchased.”

“Two? Who the fuck am I going to get to come to Saskatoon in December?” You sighed, head in your hands, trying to figure out how you were going to make it work.

“Well, the boys are heading up to check on MacTavish’s mum, but Kate’s got me on a leash. I can ask her to make me remote on this project, if you want.”

His tone wasn’t sly. It didn’t sound like he was hiding something. If anything, he sounded earnest, and it was such a kind gesture of friendship that he would be willing to join you in order to help you see your folks.

But, that’s what wormed its way under your skin. You knew it was him. You just couldn’t prove it. Months of God knows what kind of backdoor, black-market dealing and manipulation, all orchestrated just to…

Just to what? Make you happy?

Inwardly, you struggled against your bindings, the invisible ropes he’d so carefully weaved just to have you come to him of your own free will, bent on your hands and knees, obedient and eager for your reward.

“Jonathan…” You started to resist, to rebel. Every time you started your sentence, you were stopped in your tracks by the cold, hard truth: He didn’t force you to do anything. You’d done it all of your own free will.

That was how it had started. But, holy fuck had it escalated.

Price was the perfect gentleman on your flight over, mysteriously charming his way into business class seats. He downloaded some of your favorite movies onto his iPad, even though you didn’t remember ever telling him that they were your favorites. He even snuck his way back to the flight attendants’ galley, laughing and joking with them, procuring you two extra desserts from the carts since you were such a fan.

Then, he met your family, and he fit in perfectly. It was as if he was the missing member, a long lost kin, just waiting to be reunited into the fold. Your mother couldn’t figure out what had you so bothered.

“About time you brought a good one home. Even your Uncle Billy likes him, and Billy —”

You rolled your eyes,

“And Billy doesn’t like anyone, I know. I know.”

“Honey,” your mother looked at you with a sternness that she didn’t often muster, peering at you over her rose-rimmed glasses, “Why can’t you just let someone take care of you for a change? He’s a good man.”

A good man.

John Price was a killer. No, he was worse. He was a CIA-funded, black ops, government-overthrowing war machine, capable of literal atrocities. You hadn’t heard much, but you’d heard enough. If any of these people knew how quickly he could turn a crowded room into an empty one, none of them would be looking so fondly at the way he snuggled with the dog or complimented your dad’s knife collection.

But, that wasn’t why you protested, was it? If you were really being honest with yourself, the reason why you were so against letting Jonathan War Machine Price run your life was that it was yours to run. You didn’t need anyone’s help.

You didn’t need it.

You could handle things on your own.

You liked being able to spread your wings, fly your own path…

You were nobody’s puppet.

But, you were starting to like the way he was pulling your strings. When he would take the pressure of choice away from you, after you’d already been making a million other decisions at the end of a long day, it eased something inside of you in a way that nothing else could. It was like he was using those huge, rough palms to massage the hurt out of your head, to show you that it didn’t need to be such a battle, you didn’t need to keep fighting. He would do the fighting for you, and he was determined to show you that he was good at it.

Even now, as you stomped through the rain, you knew what you were running from. You told yourself you were avoiding John, that you wouldn’t let him see you struggling to hold yourself together. After a much needed switch into a different position at work, the stress of your own expectations weighed heavy on you. But, you wanted them to. You wanted to know that you could still make it alone. You didn’t need John Price.

But, you’re wearing the slicker he bought for you when yours got left in a cab.

So?

But, you smell like oud, saffron, and bergamot; the perfume oils he found for you at that local boutique you love. The same one he always compliments when he smells you wearing it.

So?

But, you’re tired and wet and cold, and all you want is for him to tell you what you want.

So?!

The soft, amber glow of a cigar stopped you in your tracks. A man was sitting on your bus stop bench, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his legs spread wide, taking up as much space as he liked. He was smoking slowly, enjoying every breath, savoring the flavors. Flavors you knew all too well: vanilla, licorice, sweet cedar, and whiskey.

His sharp, blue eyes only met yours when you let out a labored sigh.

“What are you doing here, John?”

He took another drag, letting the ashes smolder, their warm glow making him look more and more like the Devil, a fallen man bathed in the light of a fire he lit all by himself. And damn proud of the blaze, too.

“Just waitin’ for my ride,” he smiled in the way that a cat must smile at a mouse under its paw, “Do you wanna sit down, sweetheart?”

“No! I don’t wanna sit down,” you threw up your hands, “I want you to stop meddling in my life. You’re not allowed to keep making me feel like… like I need someone… some — Like I need someone’s fucking help. I don’t need anyone but me.”

His tone shifted in a sudden heat, like a flash in the pan, unexpected,

“Do you think I have any bloody help?”

Price let the question sink in before standing in front of you, his gaze never leaving your eyes. His voice was soft and gravelly, thick with smoke, and yet each and every word cut into you as sharp as a blade,

“Do you think anyone comes to help me when I’m deep in some bullshit, fuckin’ around in Rammaza? Just me, is it? By myself?”

“I don’t… no, I don’t know…” You hated how small your voice sounded in this tiny bus stop hut, the pounding rain drowning out your words.

John looked at you as if he was waiting on you to find another answer, and then his face softened. He flung the cigar onto the pavement and crushed it out under his boot, smashing the tobacco into the cement without mercy. The object of his affection, once consumed, now snuffed out under his own power.

His hands wrapped around your shoulders, caging you in, warm and safe from the wind blocked by his broad back. He sighed, his mouth drawing a tight line across his face,

“Of course I need fuckin’ help. I have my men, and they have me. And I keep you here,” he jammed a finger hard into his chest, “Deep inside me, remindin’ me what I need to come home to. I’m not… meddling in your life, love. I’m trying to put you in mine. I thought…”

He pulled away, sitting back down, looking up at you with a unique look on his face,

“I thought that’s what you wanted. If I’m wrong,” he let out a dark, bitter chuff, “You need to tell me right now. ‘Cause all my plans have you in them.”

The rain made the plexiglass roof sound like it was shattering, over and over, the concussive slam of the storm created an oppressive din. He was waiting there, looking at you, asking for your next move. What was your plan?

“Am I wrong, sweetheart?”

You waited, trying to see how many steps ahead he was in front of you. If you said yes, if you said no; what decisions had already been made for you? Did he know what you were going to say before you did? And the real question: Why were you fighting so hard against something you wanted so badly?

You shook your head back and forth, just enough for him to see. HIs eyes lit up with hope and energy, a renewed flame.

“Then, come home with me. Quit bein’ so bloody hard on yourself. Let’s get you dry, love. C’mon.”

So, you obeyed.

Nothing was more humbling than climbing into a squat little sports car when you were drenched to the bone. You curled yourself right into his cage, feeling silly for ever wanting to escape from it. Why were you pulling so hard against such soft reins? Couldn’t you see that he wanted to take care of you? To remove all of your barriers, to clear your path? You would be more powerful under his wing, soaring far beyond what you were capable of on your own. Why deny yourself a bite of the apple? It was ripe, the snake had promised, and sweet.

He helped you up the stairs to your flat, walking you past his men as they gathered together in the kitchen, speechless, for once. None of them dared question their captain’s choices, and he had chosen you. More than that, it was clear that you had chosen him.

Once you were in his room, behind a locked door, he held up a hand and stopped you in the entryway, shivering and dripping by the door.

“Wait here.”

You waited.

You waited some more.

Just when you thought you would turn around and take yourself to bed, he returned dressed in a dry tee and a pair of running shorts. He carried two large, fluffy towels, and his face was set into a serious mask. All business.

“Take off your clothes.”

You hesitated, looking at him to make sure you heard him correctly.

He met your gaze, standing so close to you that you could feel his breath against your cheek. His chest was inches from your face, and you had to look up in order to meet his eyes.

“Take.”

He grabbed your phone out of your hand and dropped it on his entry table.

“Off.”

He rucked the jacket off of your back, peeling it down your arms and letting it fall to the ground with a wet slap.

“Your.”

His fingers pulled the tie out of your ruined braid, letting the elastic roll onto his wrist.

“Clothes.”

His hands went back to his side. It was up to you to do the rest. He wasn’t here to do everything for you. You were not his plaything. You had to choose to obey him. He wanted to watch you choose to follow his orders, not because you needed to, but because you wanted to.

Slowly, and a bit unsure, you began to shed your layers. You started with your shirt, almost knocking into him with your elbows since he was towering over you, standing in your space. Then, you writhed out of your jeans, peeling them off of your legs, kicking away your shoes in the process, stepping gingerly out of your socks, needing to hold onto his thick trunk for balance.

Now, in just your bra and panties, you waited, hoping he’d hand you a towel.

“What did I say?” He asked in a hushed tone, the timbre containing just enough warning to make your cheeks hot.

“No, John. The boys are here in the kitchen!” You protested, whispering in a low hiss.

This was beyond what you expected from him. You’d been keeping him at arm’s length, despite his constant pressure to be in your life. Sure, there had been moments of weakness. You’d shared a kiss, and you had let his hands wander when you watched a movie together on the sofa last weekend, but that was as far as things had gone. Stripping naked in the bright light of his apartment suite was something else entirely. Not to mention what sort of noises would seep out under his doorway if things got out of hand.

“Stop,” he grabbed you by your face with both hands, making you look at him, “Stop fighting me. I am in this. All the way. The only time I wanna hear you tell me no is when you really mean it. If you say stop, I will immediately stop. Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded. He released you and put his hands on his hips, impatient.

So, you slid out of your bra, slowly letting the cups pull away from your breasts, the lace cold and damp on your skin as it joined your outfit on the floor. As you rolled your panties off of your hips, stepping out of them and shoving them under your jacket with your toe, you felt more than just naked. You felt vulnerable and a little scared.

What would he say? What did he plan to do? You realized, with a chilly shudder, that you didn’t even know his personal preferences. He’d never even given you a cursory glance into his mind, and reading his thoughts was impossible with that serious poker face. Most men wore their thoughts right across their eyes, or some (like Soap) even muttered them aloud, unconcerned about any judgment or scrutiny. If a man wanted you, you’d know. They were an open book.

But the captain was very hard to read.

Suddenly, as you stood back up, warring with your own mind, you were surrounded in fuzzy, comforting warmth. He was drying you off, wiping your arms and legs with reverent care, squeezing the rain out of your hair, using the corner of the cloth to wipe your face, holding you in his arms when you felt weak, off-balance, exhausted.

It seemed as if the more you relaxed into him, the more power you gave up, the more it began to stoke his fire. While you became soft and pliant, he shifted into a fierce protector, covering you with his hands, bracing you with his heavy bones.

Price wrapped your hair into a high bun with an unexpected level of skill, and he carefully stretched your hair tie around it. When he turned to face you, you caught him staring at your body, raking his eyes over your breasts and studying the curve of your mons. It was as if he was groping you with his eyes, and each swipe of his gaze felt like a lick from his warm tongue. It was enough of an invasion that you wanted to put your hands in front of yourself, to hide out of some sort of shame.

But when you made a move to cover yourself, the look in his eyes was enough to make you stand with your hands at your sides, allowing yourself to be on full display for him and that ravenous glare. He hadn’t even needed to chastise you. His mere desire was enough of a correction.

Then, almost like a reward, he wrapped the towel around you, letting you hold it tight to your chest.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on inside that pretty head,” he commanded you, his voice quiet but firm. It was just a simple question, but you knew it was loaded. So, you brushed him off, tossing out cheap bait, wrapping the towel a little tighter around yourself, hoping he’d drop it. You shrugged,

“Just cold.”

His jaw set with a click, and that soft purr became a warning growl,

“That’s one,” he held up his finger, “The next lie will cost you that towel, pretty girl.”

You stared at him blankly, trying to find a way through this labyrinth he had — apparently — custom built for you, sending you down twists and turns and dead ends as if he knew exactly how you’d try to steal back some control. But every way out seemed like a worse fate than simply allowing yourself to trust him. Nevertheless, you tried again.

“I am cold, and I’m tired. It’s been a long day, John,” you sighed, shifting towards him, trying your best to take back the lead to his strange dance, “C’mon, don’t you wanna take me to bed?”

You reached out a hand and snaked it under the hem of his shirt, exploring untouched skin, letting your nails scrape through a dark patch of thick hair, right above his waistband. Your fingers got as far as his navel before he snapped.

The cold absence of him ripping the towel away from you felt worse than you expected it to. In fact, you hadn’t actually taken him seriously. You protested, indignant,

“Hey! What —-“

“You think this is the same game you’ve always played,” he snarled, throwing the towel away and shoving you to your knees, his hold crushing and cruel on the nape of your neck, “You think, because those lads will eat any scraps you throw to them,” he nodded behind you, gesturing toward his men only a thin wall away, “That I’ll be satisfied with a taste, hm?”

His tone was mocking, and there was an undercurrent of darkness that lingered between each word like a warning, like the red of a poisonous berry that shouldn’t be picked and yet sagged ripe and ready on its stem.

“You always get your way with them, don’cha? You know that a bit of skin and a little attention will keep them on you for days. And they reward you for it. They text you at all hours of the fuckin’ night, beggin’ you for just one more look, one more bite,” his mouth was right next to your ear, bending over you, casting his shadows across your face, and all you could do was kneel there, fully under his control, unable to move against his immense strength, “But, that’s not what I want.”

Your eyes dared to slant over to the growing monster that pressed its warm body against his shorts, hanging heavy and stretching the fabric, and you dared to hiss at him, even in your compromised position, using his title like a knife, aiming to scrape him with it,

“Seems like you do, Captain.”

He smirked, you could feel his smile against the sensitive skin of your earlobe, and you could see his almost infernal expression out of the corner of your eye. Even though you were trying to get under his skin, it made you feel like you were playing right into his hand yet again, helpless to his will.

He stood up, never letting go of his grip on your neck, pinching the muscle like you were a caught rabbit, his writhing prey. Then, with a force that made your stomach drop, Price shoved your cheek into the crotch of his shorts, bringing you face to face with the outline his swelling shaft. Your nose was buried in the fabric, and you could smell the soap of his detergent as well as the musk of his sex that throbbed underneath.

Then, he rucked down his waistband to show himself to you, pressing his length along your cheek, the softness of his skin surprising you just as much as the size of his thick, hefty prick.

He held your neck in one hand and his cock in the other as he began to stroke himself up and down, letting your temple and cheekbone feel the slip of his velvet foreskin. You could hear soft, wet clicking sounds as he coated himself in his own fluid, using the clear, dripping pearls as lube.

You tried to move your jaw to taste him, eager to know if the heady, intoxicating smell of his skin matched his precome, hungry for his reaction to your mouth. But he stopped you, tightening his grip and scolding you like a naughty pet,

“My body wants your body, love. I’ll admit that,” he chuckled, not halting his lurid, jerking pulls, using your cheek for friction, “But I want more. I don’t want a taste. Or a bite. I won’t be satisfied.”

He frowned a bit, shrugging off his confession before he continued,

“I want you to trust me. Trust that I’ll be here for you, that I’ll always be here. So,” he tugged on your flesh, forcing you to meet his fiery gaze, “Tell me what you thought.”

What were you supposed to say? That you were insecure about your looks? That you weren’t sure if he’d approve? That you were either too much or not enough and you weren’t sure which?

You turned your mouth as much as you could, trying to at least lick along the warm underbelly of his rod, aching to taste him, but he jerked you back into place, laughing at the disappointment on your face,

“Lips to yourself, love. Only good girls get fed.”

You rolled your eyes up to him, and you knew you had to make a choice. He was joking, but it was a façade. He was using it like a shield, waiting to see if you would actually relinquish your control or if you’d cut and run like you did with everyone else.

So, you decided to trust him, giving him what he wanted, a full confessional on burning, bent knees, eyes cast up at your new master, praying for his communion, your tongue eager for his body and his blood and his love.

You made sure his eyes were locked on yours as you spoke softly, unflinching in your resolve,

“I was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. I needed you to want me. I was afraid.”

The relief that washed over him was nearly palpable. His whole body responded to your admission, all of that tightly-wound uncertainty melting away in the heat of your submission to him.

“That’s it. Good,” his voice was heavy with his relief, and he almost seemed like he was slipping into a trance, rubbing himself in steady, long strokes, shuddering against your cheek, “And what now, hm? You want me to let you go? Let you free? Or are you gonna let me in?”

You didn’t break your eye contact with him, but you wavered, sure of your decision but overwhelmed when you had to say it out loud. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the slick mess he was forging between them, trying to find some comfort. You took a breath and told him,

“I’ll let you in, John.”

His throat held back a long, low groan, the pleasure of your surrender or the pleasure of his hand forcing it from his chest. You weren’t sure which.

His grip loosened on your neck, but he didn’t let go. His voice was barely above a whisper as he told you his rules in hushed, broken phrases, holding himself back from the edge,

“You belong to me, now, sweetheart. You might be in charge at your bloody job, but everything else is mine. Do you hear me?”

You were going to answer him, you’d even planned to tack on a cheeky little yes, sir, just to show him you were playing along, but he had other plans. Always a step ahead. Before you could even breathe to speak, he pressed the tender head of his cock between your lips and deep into the warm hollow of your mouth, his wide form forcing your jaw to fall open to let him inside of you. It shocked you to be taken that way, not roughly but so certainly, with such surety, as if there was no other choice but for him to take you. You shifted, but with his knuckles tight against the base of your skull, you couldn’t retreat. Other than lolling your tongue along the body of his shaft, or swallowing against its drooling tip, you were powerless.

His face twisted into a hungry sort of smear full of teeth and lips, grimacing at the feeling of being surrounded by you. Every inch that he drove himself deeper, his breathing would halt until at last, as he buried himself into your clenching throat, his lungs had emptied, and he was sighing with a ragged, guttural cry.

“When you’re with me…” He continued his dark promises to you, the words choppy and broken, only threaded loosely together between panting gasps, “Even when I’m a fuckin’ world away, I promise that I will take care of you,” he pet your cheek with the softest affection, admiring you like a work of art, “All of you. You will sleep when I say. You will eat when I say. You will come when I say,” he smiled a little more cruelly at that, watching your eyes widen. And, as you began to wish for air, planting your palms against his firm, muscular thighs, ready to push away, he looked down at you with a lurid satisfaction, “You will breathe when I say.”

You were choking. You could hear yourself in the quiet of his room, your throat gurgling, full of your own viscous drool, escaping where it could along the stretched line of your mouth, running down your chin and neck. You felt the flare of panic rise up within you, and you tried to pull away in earnest, writhing against his grip, trying to escape from him and failing, turning your body in shameful futility.

Price bent his face toward you, folding himself to whisper his lustful words, making sure your eyes met his, pressing your nose into his soft pubic hair,

“You. Breathe. When. I. Say.”

He kept himself contorted like that, keeping his face low to watch your eyes, to witness your struggle, and you felt hot tears burn down your face, the effort overcoming you. But, you wanted to show him that you could obey. You wanted to trust him, to show him that you were willing to give him your freedom, knowing that only he was worthy of such a gift. So, you swallowed deeply, watching as it made his eyes flutter, and again, and again. Over and over, you closed your throat around his steel-hard length, choking when it became too much.

Still, he kept you there. As brave as you’d been with partners in the past, even those moments were fully eclipsed by this one. You had never even thought that you might be capable of holding your breath for so long.

You were sobbing wholeheartedly now, your eyes reflecting your desperation, tears pooling and spilling across your face. He was watching you cry, whispering breathless nothings, soft words of encouragement,

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ good. My good girl.”

Just as purple and blue spots began to obscure your vision, he pulled himself out of you in a terrible, wet departure, leaving you clutching his hips, sobbing into his belly, watching his hard cock pounding, swaying at full height, swollen with blood and eager for its finish. You could feel those same soft, dark hairs matting down as your tears soaked into them. He ran his fingers through your hair, keeping the fallen strands out of your face, still holding you at your nape, but just to comfort you.

You imagined him letting go, and you felt… sad, somehow. He would have to release you at some point, but you were in such a submissive state, just the idea of him leaving you without his guiding hand was too much to bear.

Your cries turned to a twisted kind of grief, and when he heard your tone change, he dropped to the floor with you, holding you to his chest, rocking you back and forth, shushing you and talking to you in a hushed voice,

“Shh, baby. Tell me to stop. Tell me…”

You grasped at him wildly, uncontrolled, holding onto whatever part of him you could, shaking your head,

“No, no. Don’t — don’t let me go. Please, I can’t… I need… I need you to touch me.”

You planted one of your hands across his, covering the one that gripped your neck, pressing it like a plaster, like it was keeping a wound healed, like it was a dam in front of your frothing, vengeful river; it was a lifeline and you were adrift.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna let you go. I’m right here. Shh. Shh. It’s alright. I’m here. C’mon. Come with me.”

He lifted you, helping you walk on sore, shaking legs, your nerves sparking across your skin. Then, with his hand still firmly planted against your neck, he led you like a shepherd with his lamb, marching you to his bedroom. As you approached the bedframe, your thighs hit the mattress, and Price guided you forward until your body lay flat against it. The duvet was cool and smooth against your belly and breasts, and you tucked your arms into yourself, looking for warmth.

You felt John plant gentle kisses across your back, trailing them down your spine, and after the overstimulation you had just gone through, even his lightest touch was electric.

Your tears had stopped, but still you panted, sniffling, trembling from the shock of his careful kisses, waiting for whatever would come next.

You felt his hips press against your exposed ass cheeks, his shorts now missing, and all you could sense was his warm, furry skin. You sighed into it, happy for the connection.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded.

You complied immediately, all of your tortured resistance gone from you now, ready to trust him to take care of you.

The unknown was what made your belly swarm with butterflies, and as you waited for his next move, your mind raced with possibilities.

Would he be cruel? Would he punish you for your lying when he had first taken you in? His hand might strike your tender flesh, slapping your ass and leaving red, angry marks.

Would he be lustful? Your mind fed you imaginary moments where he would press his cock into your pussy, skipping any foreplay, simply using you like his warm, wet toy. You thought that he wanted more, something more intimate, but if not, you would let him. You were his to use. At this point, you were so pliant, so open to his will, he could use you over and over and you would take him. It was a dark confidence you had never known until now.

Perhaps he would simply stop. Maybe he perceived you as weak, as if you couldn’t take what he wanted to give you. He would simply comfort you, pitying you for your wrecked state. It was this thought that turned your stomach. Surely, he knew you better than that. John Price was not the pitying type.

As the base of his cock lay nestled in the cleft of your ass, still as hard as a stone, his long shaft was shoved up against his lower abdomen, pulsing with unslaked desire. Then, as he settled himself, pleased with your spread display, John began to slip the very tips of his fingers into your pussy. He was just feeling your softness, plucking at your petals, laying them open with his hand, using your own wetness to paint your lips and the tight muscle of your hole, preparing you for more.

His voice broke the trance that his touch had put you in,

“It kills me when I have watch you putting yourself through hell. You are so strong, but you deserve to have everything you want. Everything you need, I’ll make sure you have it. I promise.”

He was so sincere, and his voice sounded so sure. It was like he was sharing an old memory, something he knew by heart.

“John, please…” You whispered, feeling yourself slipping, slowly becoming untangled by his touch. You needed more, but you had no words. You could barely concentrate, and your mind was swimming in a liminal space, trapped in a loop of mounting bliss.

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you felt your tears return, and although you were desperate for something, you couldn’t find the answer.

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re alright,” John rubbed your back with his free hand, smoothing your skin with his warm touch, “Does my pretty girl need to come?”

You nodded, daring to glance over your shoulder at him as he worked on you, his finger now sinking deeper into you, gently prodding your walls in long, aching circles. His other fingers were cradling your folds, slipping between them with each undulating thrust, brushing beside the swelling body of your clit and making you throb with need.

He felt it, and you saw a warm smile spread across his face,

“I can feel you needin’ me. So wet for me. Fightin’ me so bloody hard. Thought I’d be wantin’ you forever. Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of havin’ you under me like this? Fuck, I need you so badly, baby.”

You felt his grip tighten on your neck again as he pressed you deeper into the soft mattress, his prying hand picking up the pace. His thick finger finally slipped down to the knuckle of his fist. As he fucked you on his hand, you could hear your body’s slick as it softened for him, submitting to his power just as you had done, your body at peace with your mind.

He pressed a second finger beside his first, twisting them together, curling the tips to rub you from the inside, making you feel the deep ache of your orgasm building within your belly.

You tried to find more friction, rocking your hips against the bed, squeezing your legs together, needing more but completely helpless to his pace and pressure.

Price stopped, pushing his fingers right into the tender flesh of your neck as a warning,

“Open,” he shoved your foot away, spreading them for you, “You keep fighting and fighting… fine. I’ll give you something to fight for, hm?”

You tried to twist your knees together again, but his legs stood apart, holding you open. Then, you felt his threat. He put the head of his heavy prick against your greedy hole, dipping it into your wetness like a seal into warm, melting wax.

“C’mon,” he squeezed your nape hard, once, just enough to get your attention, “You wanna drive? Fuckin’ drive, love. You think you can fuck yourself better than I can fuck you? Prove it.”

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him, watching the muscles ripple and pop in his forearm that held you down, unwilling to give you full control, and yet allowing you to set the pace. You saw his other hand rub the curve of your hip, dropping lower to grope your ass, egging you on.

Unwilling to beg, you thrust yourself down onto his shaft, gasping from his girth, only managing to fit half of him inside of you, physically unable to go any deeper on your own. But, you tried again, lifting away, sinking back, repeating your movements and reaching between your legs to rub your clit as you fucked him.

But, it wasn’t enough. You felt so close to the edge, and yet you couldn’t tumble over it, losing your rhythm, chasing it down, too weak to reach the peak you knew was right within your grasp.

You grunted in frustration, and his cruel laugh made you turn back towards him again.

He shrugged,

“I thought you wanted to be in charge. Does it feel good, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You gasped, trying to catch your pleasure and feeling it slip from you yet again, humping your hips against the bed shameless and desperate.

“Tch,” Price gripped the inside of your ass cheek, shaking it and rolling your soft flesh in his hand, “Too bad, love. I wanted to give it to you. Shame, really.”

“John! Please,” you caved, sobbing out a short moan, begging him impatiently.

“Please, what?” His question came just as he decided to press himself deeper into your body than you had been able to go, sinking into you like a hand into a glove, a tight, all-encompassing fit.

You whined, rolling your fingers over your clit faster, feverish, ready for relief,

“Please make me come.”

“You will come…” He stretched you, giving you no warning, the sharp feeling of his invasion making you catch your breath, “When I bloody tell you to.”

Then, as if to prove it to you, he stuffed his length into your pussy, never pulling back very far, choosing instead to massage you with his cock, using his base to stretch you wide before rolling away. The sensation overwhelmed you, and his size made your mind go blank. Any words that formed in your mind turned to whining cries of pleasure on your tongue.

There were no sounds of lewd pounding of flesh on flesh. All of Price’s work was deep and wet, churning inside of you like a volcanic sea, hot and untamed. He, however, made plenty of noise, praising you in every way he knew how, speaking in half-clipped phrases, losing his sentence to a groan of relief as he fed himself to you, filling your pussy like a hungry mouth.

You felt yourself getting closer by the moment. Each grinding thrust was pushing you ever nearer to that gleaming, crackling fuse. He had lifted you, unintentionally, unable to understand the effect of his strength, and your toes could barely scrape the floor. You could feel your sacral core clenching around him like a delicate vice, grabbing for his cock, trying to hold him within your belly, some twisting grip of nature used to ensure that his creamy come ended up where it belonged, soaking into your womb.

Your clenching made him pause, which, in turn, caused you to cry out to him, wordlessly babbling, begging for him to return, to keep his pace.

“Don’t you dare, sweetheart. Don’t you dare come,” his voice was like rattling brimstone, smoky and burning within his throat.

“Please…” You whispered, unable to lift your raspy, keening voice.

With shallow, teasing thrusts, Price used his cockhead to softly pop in and out of your soaked hole, swollen from being well-fucked. Just hearing a vibrator would have sent you over the edge at that point, and you fought him, trying to get any sort of power at all, rolling your body like a caught snake.

“Stop,” he said curtly, “Stop fighting. Be still.”

You quieted yourself down, breathing heavy, sweating into his sheets, shivering like you had a fever, burning up from the inside out.

For the first time, you felt his hand leave your neck, and his fingers twisted themselves into your hair at the base of your skull. Slowly, carefully, he lifted you by your head, forcing your back into a vicious arch, letting your breasts hang freely, your arms trying to balance you, mostly worthless since Price had full control of your torso in this position.

His free hand slid around your front, groping you wildly, plucking your nipples and filling his palms with the meat of your breast. Then, he replaced your fingers with his own, pressing beside your sensitive clit, rolling it softly in long, firm strokes.

You heard yourself make a new sound, one you’d never made, an animal’s grunting, something reckless and feral.

Then, Price took up his stretching rhythm again, fully in charge of everything you were sensing. To you, he may as well have been in control of your mind. It was no use to you; you were at his mercy and it was everything you’d ever wanted.

“Do you trust me?”

Your thoughts swam, unable to even consider anything but the truth, and amongst all of your vocalized ecstasy, you managed to reply,

“Yes.”

“Don’t come. Keep it. Just like that.”

“J-John!”

“Wait, wait, wait… good girl. Good.”

“Ohhh, fuck…”

His next words seemed barely human, snarled at you through bared teeth,

“Now. Come for me. Come f— fuck! Holy fuck.”

When you felt him spill into you, you had almost no control left over your own orgasm. Your heart felt like it had leapt into your throat, and all you could experience was your shining, explosive finish. You heard no sound, and your eyes went white, rolling back into your head. You couldn’t breathe, or scream, and if it wasn’t for John’s immense body holding you tight, you would have crashed into his bed, all used up.

His orgasm was as long as yours was, and he finished in slow, fearsome thrusts, burying his head into you as deep as he could reach, smearing your lips with your mixed fluids, caring nothing for the mess.

“C’mere, love. Come to me,” Price held you to his chest, finally pulling himself from you, holding you as close as he could, laying beside you in a sweaty, spent tangle of arms and legs.

You lay your head on his chest, catching your breath, only to tumble into a dreamless sleep with him, your body exhausted from your effort.

When you woke up the next day, you could feel him all over you. He had left you alone in the bed, and yet your skin and bones kept his imprints. You could feel the ghost of his fingertips on your neck, and you were sore in places you weren’t sure how you could be. Everything was a wet mess, and just when you worried about how you’d cross the apartment without yesterday’s outfit, you saw that John had left you a note.

Training day on base. I'll be back tonight. Dinner on me. Wear this. xx

Under the note, Price had laid out his favorite dress of yours, a blue satin slip of a thing, and (with the tags still on) you found a matching lace set of bra and panties in the same pretty color, just your size. You couldn’t see the price, but when you searched for the brand online, you couldn’t help but blush. He'd spent more than just a pretty penny on this outfit. You couldn't help but notice that the delicate lace would show through the thin fabric of the dress, making little raised ridges where your nipples would be.

Whatever you’d just agreed to when you said you’d let John Price into your life was about to get very, very interesting.

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #captain john price #john price #call of duty #captain price #captain price x you #john price smut #john price x female reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #john price x reader #captain johnathan price #and they were roommates au

338 notes · View notes

rottenpumpkin13 · 6 days

Note

What is it like having either AGS as a roommate?

SEPHIROTH

Pros: Quiet and keeps to himself, keeps the house neat and tidy.... bordering on obsessive, responsible, it's like living with a cat: if he likes you he'll curl up beside you in silence, investigate objects he's curious about, and want that the house follow a routine for meal times.

Cons: Sheds hair everywhere, you don't hear him approaching so he'll scare the shit out of you, says concerning comments unprompted like "At least the soil which buries our bodies in the end will be warm," might adopt a cat at random, falls asleep in random places and you might trip over him, which he will be insulted over.

ANGEAL

Pros: Home cooked food, very nurturing, great music taste, will help you with anything, brings you snacks, the house is filled with plants and always smells fresh.

Cons: Passive aggressively does the dishes, passive aggressively pins the chore chart to the fridge while making comments about how "Ain't nobody do shit," passive aggressively sweeps while saying "You guys are gonna miss me when I'm gone," will bring in random things he found at garage sales/on the side of the road without consulting you.

GENESIS

Pros: Lets you borrow his books and his clothes, lends his ear if you need to vent about your problems, fun to hang out with, will read to you, gossips with you, mixes you drinks, extremely organized.

Cons: Nosy, thinks his music taste is superior and therefore all must listen to it at maximum volume, gives insane advice that is 70% of the time illegal, he's organized but his stuff is everywhere, unpredictable mood swings, blunt, petty and will leave a dirty mug in the sink for 3 months if it means proving a point.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #crisis core #headcanons

129 notes · View notes

diamond-champagne · 2 months

Text

10. I Love You

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Warnings: None

Summary: In which things are figured out and confessed.

A/N: Shoutout to 🌟 for holding me accountable! Feedback is always welcome!

The smallest words are the most powerful. They often have the most impact. Intense and large emotions and experiences welded into a string of four letters. Hate. Love. Lust. Fate.

Fate. The development of events beyond a person’s control. The idea of it is entirely funny because honestly, how could it not be?

Or at least, that’s what Azzi thinks.

She sits at her dining room table with her family, surrounded by Katie, Tim, Jon, Jose and Paige. The blonde girl that makes her laugh at that silly four letter word.

How could it be that fate is beyond a person’s control? Azzi felt in control when she talked to Paige the entire plane ride back to Minneasota when they were younger. She felt in control when she answered every facetime call after said plane ride. She even felt in control when she shared a constant space with the girl after the pandemic. So the thought of this possibly not being in her control is laughable. However she only thinks of the word because it’s the only one that describes how perfectly Paige just fits. She has her own seat at the dinner table and her name is on the abandoned chore chart on the refrigerator. Paige is factored into movie nights, dinners, and holidays. Almost like it she was fated to be there and Azzi can only marvel at how easy it was for this to be a new normal.

Beneath her ability to take that word seriously, Azzi feels warm and fuzzy. She is overcome with a sense of familiarity and softness that only seems to appear when a particular pair of blue eyes and a head full of blonde hair appear. So she revels in it.

At least, that’s what she’s trying to do before she hears a throat clear. Quite loudly.

“Are you listening to me?” Tim asks.

Suddenly Azzi realizes that there are several pairs of eyes on her. It makes her flush and muster an apologetic look.

“Yeah, dad. Be up at 8am. Got it”

That seems to satisfy the table as the majority return their focus back to Tim as he gives a detailed description of their itinerary for the following morning. Tomorrow, the Fudds are hosting a camp for the elementary schools in the area. It’s something that they partake in monthly, helping the younger children grow their skills. So while you’d never know it from the way her dad is animatedly talking, Azzi knows the routine.

She looks down at her plate, still full of the vegetables that she’s pushed around for the last thirty minutes. Azzi can feel Paige’s eyes on her. When she looks up, she’s met with deep pools of blue filled with concern.

“Are you okay, Az?” Paige asks. Her voice was laced with sincerity.

“I’m fine.” Azzi replies surely while never breaking eye contact. The pair continue to stare at each other. Emotions swim in both of their eyes that are begging to be voiced into the world. It feels like forever and not long enough that they continue their staring contest before Jon breaks the moment between them to mention some tik tok video that he saw earlier that day.

The rest of dinner is smooth but Azzi is antsy. She needs to talk to Paige immediately so she takes her shower and gets settled into bed while she waits for her best friend while rehearsing what she could possibly say. Immediately she thinks back to when it all made sense to her.

Azzi thinks it’s been a long two weeks.

Actually, Azzi knows it's been a long two weeks because she hasn’t stopped thinking about the kiss in the bar bathroom.

It’s not that the two haven’t kissed before because well, they’ve had more than their fair share. This kiss though, was under the premise of something much larger than a secret night between the two. It was laced with the feeling of forever and provided such a high that they both wanted to chase for the end of time. Azzi wanted to chase Paige until the end of time.

So, it’s been a long two weeks and she’s impatient. Azzi also wants to cuddle.

She’s tired and all she wants to do is hug her best friend and bury her face in a head full of blonde hair. That’s why she flops on her bed as she lets out a groan that probably echoes through the stratosphere.

Well that and the fact that someone is knocking on her door. The brown haired girl pushes herself up and makes her way to the front door. She’s prepared to fully be an unwelcoming host; choosing to greet whoever with an eye roll and a voice that drips in annoyance but it’s her favorite pair of blue eyes on the other side of the door.

“Hi,” Paige says. It’s a bit quiet and shy but it sounds perfect to Azzi.

“H-Hi” the brown eyed girl stutters. She wants to ask what Paige is doing but her attention has been redirected to the bags in the blonde’s hands. It only confuses her more when she looks up and is met with a sheepish look on her best friend’s face.

“I missed you,” Paige blurts out before explaining further. “I thought maybe we could hang out because we’re still friends. We’ll always be best friends.”

“I miss you too,” Azzi confesses. “I always miss you.”

Azzi can feel herself smile at the words. It sends her heart soaring in ways she could have only imagined. She thinks this is what love songs must feel like. But then she watches Paige smile and she thinks it’s something she could watch for the rest of her life. But Azzi isn’t sure what to say. She isn’t sure that the words to explain what she feels for the older girl have been invented yet. So instead, she grabs the wrist of her blonde-haired forever and drags her into the kitchen.

As the brown-haired girl unpacks the bags, she discovers ice cream and her chipotle order. In the other bag, sits a hardcopy of “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo” which she vaguely recalls talking about.

The gesture is small but moving. It’s what makes everything click.

Azzi can feel tears well up in her eyes so she’s quick to wipe them before hugging Paige. She can only hope that she’s able to feel the gratitude that rolls off of the curly-haired girl in waves. But it’s Paige so of course she feels it and of course she pulls Azzi closer to hug her tighter.

They aren’t sure how long they stand in the kitchen, simply enjoying each other’s embrace. But the sound of stomachs grumbling disturbed the moment and resulted in giggles from each of the basketball players. Soon, they’re sitting on the couch, while watching Frozen.

The empty chipotle bowls sit on the counter along with the ice cream that is surely forgotten about by now. That much doesn’t matter though because Azzi is laying on the couch with Paige in her arms. She isn’t paying attention to the movie though because all she can do is focus on the blonde on top of her and how happy she is at this very moment.

It’s that thought that segways into feeling like this everyday. This being a light, giddy feeling that casts a protective bubble over the two whenever they share a space together. The feeling that has since replaced the fear that once left her helpless and unmoving.

Azzi thinks she can get used to Paige loving her. It’s like a warm blanket that feels like home. Her eyes are soft and her Azzi smile is a permanent fixture on her beautiful face. The brown-haired girl thinks about all the ways they can be more intertwined than they already are. She thinks about seeing her stuff in the bathroom and moving clothes into each other’s closet. The younger girl imagines mini bottles of gatorade next to her water in the refrigerator. She imagines blonde strands of hair tickling her while she’s sleeping and never having any sense of personal space because Paige is a 6’0 baby.

At the same time, she imagines not having any of it. That feeling of discontentment that had once wormed its way into her heart is back. It’s a bitter and heavy feeling that makes Azzi shift in discomfort. That terrifies her and suddenly she realizes that not having Paige is scarier than anything she could possibly imagine. Maybe the thought of losing Paige is what paralyzingly scarred her.

Though as she lays on the couch, on the brink of sleep, she thinks of how fate brought them together from miles away. She thinks being scared means that this is something worth having.

Paige is worth having.

Azzi is broken from her daydream by the sound of her door knob rattling. Paige is in her room dressed in an old shirt and shorts with hair that is still dripping wet from her shower. The blonde stands in front of the mirror while she begins to brush her hair and all the younger girl can do is watch. It takes a bit for her staring to capture Paige’s attention but when it does, the blue-eyed girl immediately turns to her friend.

“What’s wrong?”

The brown-eyed girl feels like a fish out of water. A wave of emotion engulfs her and it’s too much but not enough all at the same time. There’s love and longing and admiration that swim so deep in her heart and mind that she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind before she even realizes it.

“I love you.”

PREVIOUS | NEXT

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi #uconn wbb #you

190 notes · View notes

gowns · 3 months

Text

if you ever find yourself thinking "i don't want to talk to this person about this problem, it would be so awkward and create tension"

one of the most uncomfortable conversations i've ever had was also a positive influence on the rest of my life.

when i was 18-19 years old, i moved out of the college dorms and into my first apartment, with my college dormmate + two random ladies we found on craigslist. we didn't really have anything in common, but the ladies were nice enough and they thought we were nice enough so we all agreed to move in with each other.

i have ~executive dysfunction~ and i was raised in a barn, so i really had no clue how chores worked or how to keep a common space clean. common 18-19 year old issue, tbh! the ladies from craigslist were a few years older, around 24-25, and they seemed increasingly annoyed with me as the weeks went on.

at one point, one of them knocked on my door, and said we needed to have a talk. she took me aside, sat me down on the couch, then listed, one by one, all the things that she noticed that i didn't clean, things i kept messing up, various ways i was inconsiderate of my other roommates. she said "maybe it's because i'm older than you, but you're really dropping the ball here, and we need to get on the same page with chores." she made a chore chart and handed it to me. and we followed it from that point on...

having to have that conversation was so anxiety-inducing! i'm sure it was hard for her, and man, it was hard to hear for myself. my face was red and hot, and i mumbled some excuses, but i knew she was right; i had been an inconsiderate clod. how could i do better?

well, i followed the chore chart, i gradually looked up more ways to take care of myself and the apartment, i gave my other roommates a lot more space and notice about things... i was still an inconsiderate clod imho but i was trying. i was really trying!

and to this day i think, wow, that one awkward conversation leveled me up in a way that tip-toeing around the issue, or passive aggressive remarks, or whatever, would have never gotten through to me. it had to be a direct conversation. she had to be honest and i had to be open to it. and we both were better off for it.

more often than not, just being direct and addressing something that's bothering you head-on will yield the most results. you might annoy the other person; they might completely disagree or get defensive. but at least you get the peace of mind of knowing you spoke up, and honestly, even when the other person has their walls up, they tend to marinate on it and change happens regardless.

anyway, if you needed any motivation to talk to someone about something that's bugging you. this is it. might as well do it now. no point in doing it down the line, when the damage is already done!

#and how did that roommate situation end up panning out?#well we became more cooperative but i think i caused enough resentment that they left as soon as the year was up #and honestly good for them #19 year old me was so annoying #they did paint the walls dark red and leave that for us to figure out though...#/ epilogue

237 notes · View notes

hotchfiles · 3 months

Note

Lari I got the cutest idea for a Hotch fic and wanted to share, you don't have to make this a thing you're just the first person I think of when it comes to anything Hotch related!! <3

So what if Hotch had a daughter and she's applying for colleges and she doesn't tell her dad that she applied for the college he went to and then she gets accepted and surprises him by getting a hoodie w the schools name on it, goes up to him and is all "surprise!" and then Hotch is the proudest and smiliest dad ever, the end x

love, family & law

You don't enjoy hiding things from Aaron, and he is annoyingly good at figuring you out, you also don't like supporting Abbey lying to her father, but she has been excited to surprise him with her pre-law George Washington acceptance since before she had actually been accepted and the tenderness of it pulled you by your heart strings.

Jack had recently finished his EMT- Intermediate training and chosen your alma mater Virginia Commonwealth University for his Bachelor's in Emergency Medical Science, a proud to be paramedic. You were excited to see Aaron as happy as you are about sharing schools.

He was starting to get worried too, the family's youngest going radio silent about acceptances from colleges, to him, was beginning to seem like Abbey hadn't got any.

That possibility doesn't bother him, really, he just doesn't want his baby girl suffering alone.

He gets home late and tired, as usual. The two cats he was coerced into adopting years ago are the only ones to welcome him in, two balls of black and orange fur rubbing against his legs lightly and purring as he put his keys, phone and wallet on the table by the door.

"Honey? Abbey?" He scrunches down for a minute, giving Monday and Friday his full attention, and back rubs, "Do you know where mom and your sister are, huh, sneaky babies?" They meow in response. "Gonna need a translator for this interrogation." Aaron smiles to himself and stands up, his knees embarrassingly cracking at the action.

"We're cleaning your office!" His brows rose immediately in suspicion, your voice didn't sound like it was coming from the office, and cleaning it was definitely not your responsibility on the chores chart you both built over the years.

Still, he follows the direction, balls of fur by his side, and is met with the room empty, his old almost falling apart too big GW Law sweater that you usually wore to sleep neatly unfolded over his desk. "Whatー"

"SURPRISE!" He doesn't flinch, turning around in a second, a happy smile, showing a bit of teeth even, graces his face when he notices Abbey wearing a GWU sweater. "Pre-law, officially."

Aaron doesn't say anything, walking over to her and engulfing her in a bear-like hug. You watch from the sidelines, seeing tears watering his eyes lightly as you try to hold back your own.

"Baby, please, don't turn into a defense lawyer." He says half-jokingly after letting go of the hug, pride and joy written all over his face.

"Aaron!"

"What? I'm proud but we gotta be careful, don't want her taking people I put in jail out of there."

Abbey rolls her eyes (yours, completely) at him. "I will if they're innocent. Old people make mistakes." The tone and bite to her tongue are completely his. Strong, matter-of-factly, confident.

Smiling at you is his only reaction, love for what you two created together is clear in his eyes.

Love for the family you helped him build, for the fact you raised Jack and Abbey with values that made both want to help people.

Love for you, always love for you.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #I'm not much of a dad!hotch writer but this immediately inspired me #and also got me to keep my paramedic jack agenda

204 notes · View notes

natsukishinomiyaswife · 5 months

Text

⋆ 𝓡𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼: 𝓓𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝓑𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓼 ⋆

Please note: This is a repost from my old blog, @sugarcookiesheep!

This was the first story I ever posted on my old blog, and my first series too! It was a series that featured most of the Twisted Wonderland cast as fathers, and what their child/children are like! (With the Reader being referred to as mom!)

I had only completed Riddle and Cater's parts (while posting sneak peaks of others), and I may come back to it someday! Until then, enjoy! ♡

⋆ As a father I believe that Riddle would be strict but fair. He would be patient with his children and control his temper but wouldn’t be afraid to put his foot down. He’d be the type of parent to implement chore wheels and good behavior charts and use parental controls on electronics to make sure his kids keep up with their studies. If they were doing particularly bad in a certain subject or struggled with something, Riddle would be more than happy to tutor them. He would make worksheets to help them practice and would take extra care helping them with homework or assignments, and make sure to go over exactly what they’re struggling with until they understood. If his child’s school had a PTA (Parent Teacher Association) he would be a part of it for sure.

⋆ Riddle’s eldest son would be a little troublemaker, not really following any of the rules Riddle makes. Instead, he would question Riddle’s rules and create his own, making a game out of it. Riddle once tried to follow his son’s rules (in the hopes that it would teach him some obedience), but his son just gave him a look of confusion before stating that the rules had changed, and that Riddle was now breaking the rules by following the old ones. Let’s just say this game is Riddle’s least favorite lol

⋆ While he’s good for his mom, he enjoys riling his father up and always acts innocent afterwards in the hopes of getting away with it (You never really seem to buy it though)

⋆ He has a big sweet tooth (just like his father), constantly trying to sneak cookies or tarts or cakes out of the kitchen. Half the time he doesn’t even try to sneak it, just grabs whatever he’s after and makes a run for it. You’ll be doing some cleaning, trying to tidy up the house, when suddenly here comes your toddler running with fistfuls of cookies while your husband chases after him. Even when you lock the desserts up he still somehow manages to get them, much to Riddle’s dismay.

⋆ In place of gold stars you decided to get scented stickers shaped like desserts for the good behavior chart, as that seemed to encourage your eldest son to behave more

⋆ Whenever he has a nightmare, he always goes to his dad. You’ve walked into the kitchen more than once in the early morning and found Riddle and your son fast asleep at the table, half empty mugs of milk and cookie crumbs around them. It’s a sight that always fills you with warmth.

⋆ When he gets to be a little bit older (around 5 or 6) You and Riddle cave and get him the pet hedgehog he’d been wanting (Riddle hoping it teaches him some responsibility) He is very responsible when it comes to his pet and takes excellent care of him. He considers the hedgehog to be his best friend (and partner in crime), taking him wherever he goes. (The hedgehog’s name is Beef Hedgington, and he’s named after Beef Wellington)

⋆ The boys are around 5-6 years apart age wise, so your eldest son got his pet hedgehog Beef before his little brother was born.

⋆ There are plenty of times where you or Riddle would enter the baby’s room and find that your eldest left his pet in his brother’s crib. When you ask him, he’d simply say that Beef is there to watch over him and protect him if need be. It makes for some cute photos in the family album!

⋆ Riddle’s younger son is quite the contrast to his brother, a shy boy that tries his best to follow the rules and doesn’t want to stand out. He’s content watching quietly in the background as his older brother gets up to his latest shenanigans, though on occasion he can be convinced to join him.

⋆ He prefers to play alone or with his brother, usually keeping to himself while your eldest is running around with the other kids at the park. He gets a bit anxious in social situations, especially when he’s unfamiliar with the person. But if another kid did approach him and wanted to play with him he would hesitate for a second before nodding his head yes, gesturing towards the toys he was playing with. It always makes you and Riddle so happy whenever he makes a new friend at school, his body language giving away how excited he is.

⋆ Much like your husband and eldest son (and you), your younger son also has a big sweet tooth. Unlike your eldest though, he doesn’t try to sneak or take any desserts. Instead he would follow you around as you’re baking, or gaze longingly at whatever sweet he wanted. You would pick up on this and give him one as a treat, or let him lick the spoon while you’re baking (after making him promise not to tell his brother)

⋆ Riddle started a tradition where when it’s someone’s birthday in the family, you would all go to Trey’s bakery and get them their own special cake/dessert. The kid’s always get so excited whenever they get to go see their “Uncle Trey”, especially when it’s one of their birthdays. They always have fun choosing a different cake flavor or dessert every year, watching Trey make and decorate it before serving it to them. You have a special photo album specifically for these occasions, making sure to always include Trey and his family in the pictures.

⋆ One of your favorites in the album is a photo from Riddle’s birthday, his face and shirt a mess of frosting as your two boys had both wanted to feed their father his cake. Trey is in the background laughing while your off to the side trying to wipe some frosting off Riddle’s face, your two boys smiling towards the camera with frosting smudged around their mouths. It’s a photo you love so much you end up framing it and hanging it near the front door so that it’s the last thing Riddle sees when he leaves to go to work. A beautiful reminder of his wonderful and loving family ♡

Originally posted: November 25th, 2023

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst #♡.riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader

169 notes · View notes

jazjelspen · 1 year

Text

leaving on wild charted waters [pt. 6]

(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it's inhabitants?)

(what if mc's Cinderella night just-- had to be ruined?)

(not really filler chapter anymore shits getting real‼️‼️/angst/not proofread/injuries/mc will be happy again soon I promise TT-TT/very, very light swearing)

(requested tags!: @chxrry-blxssxm-tea @missotaku34 @aprityormarj )

if you want to be tagged in future chapters please comment or message me! I will only tag you if you directly ask for it and I will only tag you once unless you asked to be tagged on all future chapters of a particular series. now let's wrap this up and head straight into part 6!!)

the ball: the clock strikes 12

(follow the white rabbit)

your breath hitched as the head the body that held you then started to scramble back from the embrace yet held your shoulders in their hands. those green eyes, those fangs, the horns, the outfit that correlated to the dorm of a powerful fae. yeah, as you feared.. it was Malleus.

"oh how I've missed you my dear.." Malleus's mouth widened into a relieved and joyous smile, his fangs out and all and his eyes full of adoration. "you have no idea how bad it's been for me, for all of us since you left us.." he let out a small sigh before he brought you in for another hug, squeezing you a little tighter this time but knew to be careful of his strength.

"Malleus.. stop it--" you attempted to push him off with your arms on his chest yet he wouldn't budge. You continued to squirm under his arms to part from him and when you finally were able to push him off all you could see were his eyes widening in heartbreak "fuck Malleus.. I said stop it!"

"I..." he took in a deep yet shaky breath "why did you leave..? I've dreamt about you since the day you left, why would you go?.." he then held your hand in his, trying to get some sort of answer from you. "I mean I understand why you'd go but.. why not at least bid all of us.. bid me a farewell my dear?" you could see his face slowly get desperate as his vibrant green eyes got misty with the longer he looked at you "if you come back my dear I promise no one will ever hurt you again, I will always listen to you, I'll take care of you-- I'll do everything you need or want just-- please come back to me."

"then you clearly don't understand well enough as to why I left." your face subconsciously formed a scowl "I am not obliged to say goodbye to you or anyone else at that school, not when you all just kept dragging me in the mud whenever you all felt like it." you scoffed "I can admit that I have missed you all, I've missed all our good moments and trips but I can't forgive any of you for breaking my arm or cutting me or--or scarring me in more ways than one" you could feel your voice slowly raise in volume.. little by little. "I do not owe any of you an explanation as to why I left, I don't owe any of you an apology for doing what's right for me."

Malleus stared at you as you kept on talking, his mixed feelings swirling on his face, his features contorting into phases of emotions that you have never seen before. It could've been almost terrifying to look at but the thing was that-- you weren't scared, not anymore. you had more people, better people, people who never forced you into chores or missions you didn't want to do, people who didn't dump everything on you without first asking you, people that actually fucking cared about your feelings.

Malleus cared, oh he did and obviously still does. It's just he's never cared enough the way your new friends do, he never truly has.

"I don't owe you an explanation as to why I left Malleus since it's clearly obvious- that even a blind man can see it-- that I'm better off here." you stared him down in a way that sent him chills down his spine, in a way that made him feel small instead of vice versa. "I'm closer in finding a way home than I ever have at Night Raven where I wasted months of my life for people that just liked dragging a magicless human to feed their own little and fragile egos. and if you can't except that I'm better off here and better off at finally going home then you clearly have not learned anything from your overblot."

oh how you, a magicless human prefect, astounded the fae prince of briar valley. you may not have power in magic but hell did you have power in words. whether you yourself thought your sentences were powerful or not either way it astounded Malleus since it seems he's gotten used to the quiet and almost obedient version of you. his features were almost unreadable, it was unclear if he was even angry or upset. the hair on your body raised up when you sensed a few distant thunderclaps in the background and the sound of a few stems of sharp thorns grow and reach out from the floor and beneath his feet. in the end all Malleus really did with that blank expression of his was reach out to you but you flinched away from his touch.

"you look stunning tonight my dear, shining brighter than any star in the sky." his soft comment was almost random and out of place, but he seemed genuine when he spoke with that true yet strained smile on his face. he slowly pulled his hand away when the stoned room you two were in started to be filled with various large stems of every size and shape, littered with the sharpest thorns you could think of. the stems popped out from cracks in the wall, the window from the ceiling, to even more below his shoes. as they moved the thorn decorated branches all seemed to reach out to you as you backed away slowly. all this whilst he sang a gentle tune under all the ensuing chaos..

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream..”

“I know you that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam..”

"tsunotarou-- " you quietly begged as you continued to back away until you felt many sharp pricks on your ankles which caused you to scream and fall down to land on your rear end in pain. Malleus had to immediately cut short the tune he sang as he desperately reached out to you with a panicked look when he saw you fall but kept himself from moving any further since it seems that all he ever does to you is hurt you, even when he doesn't mean it.

also because a curious, rabbit-chasing blonde already ran to your aid.

"_____! hold on I got you!!" Alex exclaimed as he picked you up, one arm behind your back and the other under your legs. The room quivered and the stems of thorns grew into bushes, slowly reaching out for Alex's legs as well. You looked over to face Malleus who is seen clenching his chest with fistfuls of his uniform, as if he's clenching his heart.

Tsunotarou looked at you with pain and concern with quiet tears rolling down his face from seeing how he just-- keeps hurting you. Even so, he lets you go.

Luckily Alex was fast enough to jump over the growing thorns to then quickly exclaim a spell you couldn't exactly hear well with how the rumbling and stones from the ceiling started caving in.

your last view of Malleus was his sad and pitiful face before the stones started piling up and covering eachothers views. officially ending this short yet aching encounter.

Alex ran headfirst into the wall where you first came from. once you two were now on the outside of the entrance you were both hit with cold and harsh raindrops from the sky. Alex continued to run and run as far away from the collapsing structure as possible, the tower being wrapped and hugged tightly by many large stems and branches of thorns and the roof of the tower now halfway caving inside the building. Alex huffed and puffed as he dodged a few rocks of the tumbling rubble from the building before dropping down to his knees to use the wet grounds to slide against the back exit of the school dance, not entirely protected by anything but a small roof that hovered over the back door but it was much farther away from any falling debris and awful rain. as the tower continued to roar in destruction Alex basically used himself as a shield as an attempt to cover you completely, holding you close to his chest and covering your head under his chin so if anything attempted to hit your head it'd hit his instead. he held you tightly until everything went quiet and all you could hear was just a few rolling rocks.

Alex slowly turned to look behind him with you following suite. as the dust slowly started to settle and the rain just getting more violent as time went you could see that the building was on the verge of completely collapsing, there were no longer any walls up with only the many and bushes of thorns holding onto the halfway collapsed ceiling and the rest of it's stone body. there were many stones of all sizes that held up the building now on the grass floor or stone path now ruining the recently polished or beautified lawns and floors.

Alex was panting and catching his breath before he finally faced you with a very exhausted look on his face and sweat and rain dripping under his chin, the adrenaline rush slowly sinking down now that everything is somewhat quiet except for the voices of afraid or shocked students running out from all openings of the ballroom to see the scene. "are you alright?.." he asked.

you nodded while also slowly coming out of the adrenaline high. "sorta.." you paused to catch your breath "how'd you know.. that I was there?.."

he lightly shrugged as he then slowly forced himself to get back into a normal breathing pace. "I noticed that the magic you were following felt-- more sentient than it seemed at first glance..." he slowly let you down on the ground gently whilst explaining to let his body rest "when you went through the wall-- I had only gotten more- curiouser.. and eventually walked in a bit after you but I hid in the shadows." he paused to finally get himself to breathe properly, his body shaking now that the energy high was now at it's last drop. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop I really didn't but-- I felt that if I left that something terrible would've happened. I guess it's good that I stayed, plus!..." he let out a light chuckle "the bathrooms are inside the ballroom, opposite side from the back exit so-- "

you let out a breathy 'hah' as a way to still laugh with him despite the lack of energy. your ankles were stinging and pulsing with blood that was coming out from small holes decorating your skin. Alex noticed how much blood was dripping from your skin to the ground and he prepared his body to pick you back up the same way he did before. and as if on cue right when he properly held you close the chime of a large clock rang against your ears as a way to announce that it has now struck twelve. you felt your now tattered, drenched, and dirty attire now fade off of your body and back into your previous outfit. same happened with Alex with his attire shining and poofing off of him to show his school uniform yet despite these sudden outfit changes Alex immediately started walking to get you help from anyone nearby. all the students that jumped and ran out to see the commotion all gasped. some stood in shock, some were asking for both of you and Alex's physical health, and some were even offering help. Alex would accept the help but would immediately ask for anyone to get Raps over here so that he can heal you with his unique magic. The rest of whatever was happening around you slowly got a bit blurry since as you laid in the arms of the young man you slowly felt your eyes slowly close, not because of bloodloss or any of the sort, but because everything you felt in those fast and short moments just emotionally and mentally tired you out, you were feeling incredibly exhausted after the shock and adrenaline finally now had it's run on your system and you couldn't help but feel safe enough to fall asleep in the warm arms of your friend.

when you let yourself fall asleep, all you dreamt about was sleeping back in your home world while laying in the softest covers you owned. the covers in your dream were so warm and cozy as if they just came out of the dryer. you heard distant yet familiar voices of family members in the background outside of the room you were sleeping in and the soft orange light from the outside peaked into your room while gently kissing your sleeping face. the air was filled in that specific smell your home always had. your bed and covers smell just the way you remember them, your room looks exactly the way you left it and the pillow under your head seemed to hug and warm you back to sleep.

for a moment you felt that you really were back home.

Back in Night Raven College......

Malleus teleported back to the school, Lilia awaiting him inside the Diasomnia dorm after accompanying him to RSA awhile ago. Sebek and Silver beside their father while watching the prince brush past them and ignored them while opening and slamming his room doors shut. There was an eerie silence before the slams and shatters of glass and wood were heard, roaring and shouts of frustration were booming from the creaks of the doors yet boomed throughout the halls as well. The three couldn't do anything but watch, they did everything they could to get Malleus back to himself to even getting him to see the former Ramshackle prefect again. but it seems as if it only made him even more bitter and frustrated. In this moment as a group Lillia, Sebek, and Silver accepted this temporary defeat. they won't give up on the young master, but they have given up in trying to get him back to his former self. now they will attempt to still bring in his favorite things, items, and hobbies-- but they know it wouldn't be the same anymore.

meanwhile the entire rest of the school was in disarray. everyday the students had to use umbrellas or raincoats with the never-ending storm hovering above them constantly, P.E was cancelled for a whole week with how bad it's gotten and the people you left behind mostly all have a sour attitude towards the mention of you. Heartslayul, Pomefiore, and Octavinelle students were pushed on harder than they were before, the dorm leaders of those particular students basically almost, just almost going back to their former ways. they still try to keep the lessons they learned from you and their overblots but their pettiness and the grudge they now hold against you holds them back from their true good potential. Savannaclaw, Scarabia, and Ignihyde were unique cases in it of themselves. Savannaclaw's dorm leader continued to try to stay on top of his responsibilities somewhat but due to your absence it's like he's neglecting the dorm even more than he ever used to. Scarabia's dorm leader was still generous and kind as usual, maybe even more! he held you close to his heart and continued to do good and more in your memory. Ignihyde's dorm leader.. basically neglected his position fully, he's almost on the verge of falling out of the title of house leader of Ignihyde yet his younger brother continued to be his shining and motivational light to even keep this stupid title. then of course, the dorm leader of Diasomnia, not fully neglecting his responsibilities but it's clear how much he's missed out due to his constant naps to fade away into a world with you in it.

people tried to fix all the issues that have smacked the school into rock bottom but no matter what their efforts are always fruitless. some students think they can keep on going without you, that you aren't needed to keep the school running again.. while others think that the only way to revive this place is if you're back in it.

(hopefully everything here made sense! I'm not the best at describing dramatic ongoing environments so I hope it all was understandable somewhat. thank you all for the excitement towards this part! I hope to excite you all with this series even more with the stuff I have in mind for future chapters.

also this is kinda random but I also draw too! and just for the funzies I may or may not draw my version of mc’s RSA friends that don’t have an official design. maybe tho.. depends on motivation..)

725 notes · View notes

astrojulia · 1 year

Text

Astro Observations from the Deep Sea #1

Navigation: ੈ♡˳Masterlist

ੈ♡˳Askbox ੈ♡˳Sources

Mars in the 11th house is all about being curious about space and NASA. They're the ones who are interested in exploring the latest technology and having the newest gadgets, like the coolest cell phone or cutting-edge tech.

People with Saturn Rx seriously struggle to say "no" to others. Saturn is the planet of limits, and when it's in retrograde, it makes everything even more internal. So, Saturn Rx brings a lack of internal limits, which means no boundaries.

Air Venus are all about those stimulating conversations and valuing intelligence. But here's the thing nobody mentions—they absolutely adore people with an attractive voice and those who smell amazing. Yeah, they're all about that fragrance!

You know why Virgo are obsessed with cleanliness? It's because they willingly take on tasks that no one else wants to do. They're like the superheroes of necessary chores, always looking out for the betterment of those around them.

Aries Dominant have a hard time trusting their own intuition. It's like they struggle to listen to their gut, even when it's screaming at them. It's a challenge for them to follow advice, even if it's coming from their own minds.

Moon-Jupiter aspects are often associated with a big appetite. But let me tell you the real deal: people with this combo turn to food for comfort during tough times.

Saturn Aries are total lone wolves. They rely less on others and take care of things themselves. It's like they're invisible or something. And hey, the same goes for people with a Stellium in the first house—they're independent warriors, handling things solo.

Aquarius or Pisces rising are masters at escaping reality. They love diving into unconventional realms and exploring beyond the ordinary. They're like the dreamers and the wanderers, always seeking something more.

Being away from someone with a stellium in the 1st house for a long time can be freaky because they go through crazy changes over the years. It's like they're constantly transforming right before your eyes.

Moon in the 9th/12th house tend to lean towards vegetarianism. They're super sensitive to energies, including the vibes in their food.

If you're missing an element in your chart (like a big fat zero), you might become dependent on others for certain things. It's like asking for help is your kryptonite.

Mars is not only about action but also about agriculture. So, if you've got Mars in the 1st or 10th house, you might secretly have a green thumb. You could be a farmer at heart, my friend.

Pluto in the 11th house turns people into hardcore fanatics when comes to their games. They get obsessed with specific video games or series. They might have other interests too, but they'll always come back to their beloved favorite. It's like they're stuck in a loop!

People with the same rising sign as you (and the same houses) tend to complain about the hidden stuff happening in the 12th house of others. But here's the kicker—they do the same exact thing without even realizing it. Like Taurus ascendants, they can be a bit rude without noticing, and then they complain about it when someone else does it. Classic case of "do as I say, not as I do."

3rd house - 6h house aspects can indicate someone having a really hard time with routine because their mind is always elsewhere.

Pisces - Taurus aspects can bring a really strong imagination and artistic sensibility, which they channel into practical endeavors that manifest in the material world and can make them great artists

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

883 notes · View notes

okkalo · 10 months

Text

heartsteel kayn x reader headcanons

genre: fluff

didn’t write much for rhaast since i don’t fully understand him in the heartsteel universe :/ hope you enjoy anyways <3

- he stupidly acts as if he’s in his teenage phase 24/7

- so i hope you’re ready for that <3

- i can see him digging more bad type (will have tease-offs or mock-offs with you) but i can also see him digging innocent type (he acts like your the dumbest thing on the planet but he’s head-over-heels for you [it makes him feel like your strong boy savior])

- i see him being more quality time than anything

- he likes physical touch but he doesn’t like initiating (he doesn’t want u to think he likes u as much as he does😕)

- but i can see him constantly inviting you over or going to you just to hang out

- you two see a lovey-dovey couple on the street and he will start gagging

- if the couple hears it, (they probably will; he doesn’t care if they hear) you’ll probably have to apologize.

- acts the same way if you say or do something mushy

- headcanon that he’s ruined multiple intimate moments bc he’s stupid and he started fake gagging

- punch him, please <3

- i’m mixed on his pda

- i feel like he would nonchalantly throw an arm around your shoulders to redirect or lead you somewhere (it’s very short)

- maybe even absentmindedly put his hand on your thigh while at a restaurant

- but nothing else

- i can’t see him being a hand holder. not for a second.

- unless you’re the innocent type and you pout for it

- but he’ll complain like no other (huge groan, throws his head back with a roll of his eyes before shoving his hand out for you to hold)

- i feel like he would give cute hugs though :(

- like if you’re feeling stressed or something really bad happened to you he would pull you in to a strong yet gentle hug

- wouldn’t complain, wouldn’t roll his eyes, wouldn’t even sigh!

- just a silent hug

- would maybe mumble things on your shoulder but that would be it

- rants to you daily about miscellaneous things in his life (yone, mostly)

- if he starts complaining about chores please side with momma yone (i love yone too much, but it also makes kayn more susceptible to actually following the chore chart)

- he’s the type that when you’re walking he will come behind you and jab the back of your knee with his foot to make you fall

- doesn’t care if you’re his partner; he just does it.

- ezreal and aphelios have both come up to you to try to get you to help them with pranking kayn (say yes; let kayn get his well-deserved karma)

- if he’s had a really bad day he’ll tell you to come over just to plop on top of you in bed and CUDDLE (i’m a sfw blog, i promise)

- instructs you to run your fingers through his hair (his favorite thing you do)

- pro tip: tease him when he’s like that; it’s another form of well-deserved karma

- JUST REALIZED I HAVEN’T TALKED ABOUT RHAAST

- tbh i don’t really understand how the whole rhaast thing works in heartsteel au

- but rhaast is also more of a fan of the bad type and he’ll make that loud and clear to kayn

- if you’re the innocent type it’ll take him time to get used to you

- he will get protective over you after due-time though (kayn has to tell him to shut up because rhaast just keeps talking about you)

- god forbid someone say something bad about you

- they’ll have both rhaast and kayn to worry about; rhaast will gladly take the lead <3

unedited. thanks for reading!

#heartsteel #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel imagines #league of legends x reader #shieda kayn #kayn x reader #kayn league of legends #heartsteel kayn #heartsteel kayn x reader #shieda kayn x reader #rhaast

321 notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 10 months

Text

Imagine…Dean Making You A Pie

Pairing: Dean x reader

A/N: Happy belated Thanksgiving!

_______

“Y/N!” called Dean. You popped your head up from your book on the back porch on the fall day, Dean stepping out the back door with a big smile. “Come on sweetheart.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing. I have a surprise,” he said. He grabbed your hand and pulled you inside the house, your jaw dropping.

“Dean! What happened to the kitchen!” It looked like most of the counter top was covered in flour and some kind of batter, a white dust stuck to the cabinets, something red splattered on the floor. There were dirty dishes, utensils and baking supplies everywhere but Dean left you be and went to the wire rack by the oven.

“I made a pie,” he said. He pointed at the counter, a big smile on his face. “By myself. I mean I followed your recipe but I did it on my own for once. What do you think? Want to try some?”

“I would love to and I love that you decided to try baking on your own,” you said. You looked up and saw something on the ceiling, cocking your head.

“Are you freaking out about the mess?”

“Um.” You looked around, eyes landing on the pie. The room was an absolute disaster but he looked so proud of himself. You’d made him pies more times than you could count and more recently he started helping out when you did. “Actually no. I um, it’s just a little messy but we can deal with it later. Cut me a piece of pie.”

“Definitely. I want to see how it compares,” he said. You made a clear spot at the island and Dean brought over the pie, carving out a slice for the two of you. He hummed and set it down on a plate you got out, quickly getting a fork.

“Oh is this cherry?” you asked, breaking off a piece.

“Yup,” he said, smiling as you took a bite. You chewed once before you paused, bitter and salt and thick chewiness hitting you.

“Good right?” he asked. You chewed again, forcing your face to stay neutral. He took the fork from you and dug in, his face freezing the second he chewed. “Y/N.”

You hummed, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You don’t have to eat this.”

“Thank you,” you said, going over to the trash can and spitting it out. He quickly joined you, shaking out his body. “Dean sweetie. How much salt did you put in?”

“It said 1 cup? Or one teaspoon?”

“Yeah definitely not a cup. But your filling was decent.”

“I forgot the sugar in it, didn’t I.”

“Yeah just a little,” you said. “Presentation is great though. I love the lattice work. You did really good.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry about the mess.”

“It’s fine. It’s actually quite impressive,” you said as Sam walked in from the garage. “Sam it was your turn to clean the kitchen this week wasn’t it?”

“I’m going to Eileen’s,” he said, turning around.

“Sammy-“

“Nope. Not my problem. Screw the chore chart. I’ll see you guys at Eileen’s for dinner,” he said.

“Wait! Try my pie. I made it myself,” said Dean. He smiled and Sam sighed, taking the fork from Dean and grabbing a piece. He plopped it in his mouth and frowned, looking around before spitting it into the garbage.

“I hate you,” said Sam, Dean chuckling as he left.

“So should we clean up?”

“Yes but then we can try making pie dough again and another filling and this time I guarantee it’ll be amazing.”

“Can we do it tomorrow? I’m kinda exhausted,” he said.

“Sure. You can sit with me on the porch and cuddle then after we clean up.”

“That sounds like a perfect afternoon to me sweetheart.”

________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn

339 notes · View notes

niphredil-14 · 6 months

Text

TMNT Rapael/Reader- "Held Space"

A/N: this took me absolute ages and is unedited because i got lazy. shoutout to my now ex-gf for dumping me which gave me the inspiration to finally finish this fic Pairing: Best-friend!Raphael (i imagined this as 2003, but frankly could be any of them)/reader Content Warnings: cheating, insults, toxic bf, best-friend raph Word Count: 2.1k

She stood on the subway, arm reaching up to hold onto the handgrip as she quickly switched her gaze between her phone and her surroundings. There were too many people around, and so little space, but she did her best to shuffle around to keep some semblance of a personal bubble. She was lucky that she didn’t have too many stops between her work and home, and though it felt like much longer to her, within fifteen minutes of hopping onto the train, she was stepping off, eyes flicking down to her phone when it chimed. Unlocking her phone, it opened up to her text thread with one of her best friends, the contact name, raphie, followed by a ninja emoji, a turtle emoji, and a red scarf emoji. She had promised to text him once she had got off work and was heading home. Most of the thread had been meaningless rambles, a few memes, and lots of complaints about the horrors of customer service from her, and even more complaints about Leo from him. It was the newest additions to the thread that captured her attention.

You: I mean, at least my bf’s on cooking duty tonight. I don’t think that I could handle having to cook after today lmao

raphie: yeah, so long as you trust him to not fill it chock full of nuts and not know where your epi-pen is again.

You: yeah that sucked

You: But that was one time! And I feel like it can he easy to forget someone’s allergies if it wasn’t all that important before. And he’s been better lately!

raphie: better as in actually good? Or better as in just not ghosting you for weeks at a time even though you live in the same apartment??

She sighed as she looked down at her phone. Raph had insanely high standard for anyone that was close to the people he cared about, and she was sure that it was just his protective side showing a bit. She figured that if Raph just knew him a bit better, that he wouldn’t be so harsh on him. She thought that it was just because Raph didn’t know him like she did, and that, really, Sam hadn’t been all that bad recently. Things seemed to be looking up. There was a brief time that he wasn’t being so loving, but in the past month, he had really turned around, he was amicable and affectionate, and kept up his side of the chore chart, he was really putting in an effort. And Raph, she thought, just didn’t know what he was talking about. She pondered all of this as she walked the few blocks from the train station to her apartment. With every step, her exhaustion grew, until the reached her door. She struggled with her keys for a moment, before finally getting them into the lock and turning the handle, letting the door swing open. She took a step into the apartment, shutting the door behind her, and dropping her purse down on the floor beside her. It was when the purse did not land flatly as it normally would that she looked down, and found that another purse had gotten in the way of a successful landing. Confusion wrote itself across her face, as her eyes then trailed around the room, finding several feminine items that most certainly did not belong to her. She experienced a strange sense of extreme clarity and clear-headedness that was always so unexpected in moments of great pain and betrayal. She let her gaze travel all over the room a few more times, as she then noticed the sounds emanating from her bedroom. She pulled out her phone and opened her most recent text thread.

You: raph

raphie: ?

You: I need you to come to my apartment now.

She slid her phone back into her pocket, not waiting for a response, and quietly opened the door again.

“Baby! I’m home! I thought you were gonna start on dinner?” She called out as she slammed the door shut. The noises from the bedroom ceased, and she imagined the panic on the lovers’ faces. She waited a moment by the door, and heard a voice yell from the bedroom.

“You have a girlfriend?” A feminine voice spoke. His voice was muffled through the door, though she could tell that the girl with him cut him off. “You fucking asshole!” She heard the two of them moving about in the bedroom, and moved to the kitchen, opening up a cupboard and grabbing a wine glass. The bedroom door slammed open, and a flustered woman stormed out and up to her. “I am so sorry! He told me that he was single, I had no idea, I swear.” She looked at the woman, and despite her anger, couldn’t logically stay mad when she knew that they had both been wronged.

“Not your fault that he’s a lying piece of shit.”

“No kidding.” The woman replied. They both stood there, somewhat awkwardly for a moment before the woman apologized again and left. She was given only aa moment of peace before her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend came stumbling out of the bedroom, evidently only just having finished putting on pants. He was paid no heed, as she reached for a corkscrew in the far back of a cupboard.

“Baby, I can explain!” The words flew out of his mouth, and he took a large inhale, as if preparing to ramble. She cut him off before his lungs had filled.

“There’s no need. You shouldn’t waste the little time that you have to gather your essentials.” She spoke, her voice calm and even.

“What?” He asked, incredulous.

“You can come back for the rest of your things Saturday at 3pm, as for now, just fill a bag or two with your most immediate essentials and leave.”

“The fuck?! You can’t kick me out! This is my home too!” He stepped towards her, and she looked at the clock. She knew Raph wouldn’t ignore her text.

“Not according to the lease. Which has only my name on it.”

“Bullshit! That doesn’t mean shit. And you didn’t even gimme a chance to explain!”

“There’s clearly nothing that needs to be explained. Despite what you may think, I’m not stupid. I’m fully capable of putting two and two together.” She cut off another one of his fruitless attempts to argue. “Sam. My name is on the lease, I, alone pay for the rent and all the bills. On top of my full time job, I also do a solid ninety-percent of the cleaning and chores, and pay for all of your stupid subscriptions. As far as the law, or anyone with basic common sense is concerned, I own this apartment and everything in it. Now, round up your shit, or at the very least your wallet and car keys, while you still have time to get out of my home.”

“The fuck do you mean,’still have time?’ I’m not going anywhere. You can’t force me out of my own damn house.” She could hear the bedroom window be forced open, and the thud of two feet landing on the ground.

“You will leave, or you will be forced to leave.” She said, doing her best to not allow her emotions to show in her voice. He continued to step closer to her, still yelling.

“You really think you can force me to do anything, bitch?” She turned to face him, and looked past him, seeing Raph quickly approach. A smile beautifully matched the cold look glowing in her eyes.

“I don’t need to. You’re leaving.” She said, firmly. He lurched, but a much larger arm than his came around his neck, and applied heavy force, forcing a choked out wheeze to fall from his lips. Sam was pulled backwards into a firm body, his hands unsuccessfully clawing at the arm around his neck.

Raph spoke with a large smirk etched across his snout. “This guy botherin’ you, ma’am?” Humor dripped from every syllable. She returned his smile kindly.

“As a matter of fact, he is.”

“Well, then, lemme take care of that for ya.” Raph said, sliding his arm away from Sam’s neck, and grabbing onto his thumb, twisting so that his body would follow as Raph dragged him to the door and threw him out, leaving him crumpled on the ground, gasping for air. She walked up beside Raph, and tossed Sam’s wallet on the ground in front of him, before retreating back into her apartment once more. Raph gave the pained man a cruel smile as he spoke. “And stay out!” After slamming the door in his face, Raph turned and walked farther into the apartment, reentering the kitchen once more, where he found her finally pouring herself a glass of wine.

He stepped towards her slowly, careful to not startle her. “Hey, uh, you okay?” She stood with her back facing him still. He saw her take a large sip of her wine, looking out the kitchen window. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke, her voice losing its conviction by the syllable.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Raph.” He took another few steps until he was only inches away from her. She still kept her back to him, and so he reached out and placed a gentle hand on her upper arm, carefully turning her to face him. As soon as they were face to face, she crumpled. Her lips pulled tight in a grimace, and her eyebrows scrunching up, the skin of her nose and cheeks already flushed and rosy, and her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Oh sweetheart.” Raph said, bringing his other hand up to her un-held arm. “What happened?” Her head lolled slightly to the side, and a heavy sigh escaped her.

“You were right, and I should have listened to you.” She said, her voice breaking at long last. “I just-“ She stuttered. “I just wanted to believe that we were happy and that everything was good, you know?” He nodded along, and rubbed gently strokes on her arms as she told him the events of the night. “I don’t understand why he would do that. I did my best to be a good girlfriend. I did everything for him. Why wasn’t I good enough?” She was rambling, just letting all of her negative and untrue thoughts come barreling right out of her mouth. Raph’s grimace grew as he was forced to listen to all her depressing self-talk.

“Stop that.” He cut her off sharply, more so than he meant to. He attempted to correct his harshness by giving her a small, reassuring smile. “He’s just a dick, you did nothin’ wrong, it wasn’t you.” She inhaled, and he continued to talk before she got a chance to argue with him. “You were perfect, and he didn’t deserve you. I know how much work you put into the relationship, and how much effort you put into planning special things for him. You were not the issue. He was just the biggest piece of shit around, and you were unfortunate enough to fall for him.”

“Raph,” She said, quietly.

“’m not done.” He continued. “He was damn fuckin lucky to be blessed with your presence, let alone to have you as a girlfriend. You got any idea how lucky any man’d be to have you, huh?” She sniffled, and he pulled her in tighter, letting her hide her face in his shoulder. “I wish I coulda convinced you to leave him sooner. You deserve way better than that garbage, you hear me?” She burrowed her face deeper into the scaly skin of his shoulder. “You hear me?” He repeated, and waited until she nodded into his shoulder before he continued. “I know that it hurts now, but believe me when I say that you don’t need him. You could do so much better than him, Sweetheart, you don’t even know.”

The only sound that came from her in response were sniffles, routinely interrupted with a hiccup as she sobbed into his skin. He held her there for several moments, not offering any more words, simply sharing the experience with her and holding space for her pain, but he couldn’t just stand there for long. Gently, he adjusted his hold and lifted her off of the ground, holding her tight to his body, and began to steadily walk into the living room, dropping the both of them down onto the couch. He continued to hold her close, as he rubbed large, slow circles on her back, allowing her to push all of her tears out, uncaring of the slight dribble of snot beginning to drop onto his skin.

“You’re gonna be okay, Hon, I’m here, I’ve gotcha.”

118 notes · View notes