#but he needs to get cleaned up before he can be in pictures | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fashionteahouse · 23 hours ago

Text

out of your league - paul lahote x reader

AN: thanks for loving thirty parts of this series 💜 you guys are unreal ! ngl this one sat in my drafts for a bit lol but enjoy :)

<<prev

You felt like you were babysitting. The actual baby was in your arms holding a baby toy in their mouth. They sat upright against you as they also witnessed the foolish behavior.

The two pack brothers agreed to a trust challenge.

“I trust my pack brother.” Jared says.

“Oh, god.” you say under your breath but you continued to watch, wanting to see what happens.

Embry smiled mischievously behind Jared as he cranked his arm back, holding an object and threw it to try to aim it at the half full water bottle that stood up straight on Jared’s head. Jared squeezed his eyes in anticipation only for him to be whacked hard in the back of the head.

“Ow!” he exclaimed as he held the back of his head and whipped his head around to watch a laughing Embry who was pointing at him.

You heard the most innocent and cutest sound as you looked down and the baby watched the entire thing. They were laughing. You couldn’t help but smile.

The back door opens and Emily interrupts the wrestling match that was progressing between Jared and Embry.

“Would you two cut it out? Food is ready.”

Before the door could even close back, they rushed inside of the home. Emily walked towards you with a shake of her head.

“I can get them for you, if you want.”

“Thanks. I have to use the bathroom.” you say in relief.

You wash your hands when you were done but you heard familiar laughter from a familiar person. The water continued to flow out the faucet and into the sink as you stared at your wet hands.

“So are you guys going? It’s the one thing that Forks does right.”

You look at Kim. She was upbeat. Best of all, she was comfortable under Jared’s arm as they sat at the table.

Food was propped on the table with steam as cheeks were full.

“Duh.” Embry replied.

“I’m gonna sell some of my baked treats.” Emily says as you sat down next to Paul who had the baby propped in his lap.

They liked the mash potatoes that were given to them as they kept reaching onto Paul's plate, scooping up handfuls to steer towards their already messy cheeks.

Paul leaned and gave you a quick but fat smooch on your face that made you softly smile.

He already had your plate made as you only had to pick up your fork.

“You would sell out in the first hour.” Angela told Emily.

“What’s the occasion?” You ask.

“Summer fair in Forks.” Bella tells you and you nod.

They talked about that. But you couldn’t help but to notice how Kim was less tense, more talking and more like the Kim that seemed like only you knew.

Jared was even more relaxed. His carefree nature was starting to shine.

“I’m going to the store. You need anything?” Paul asks you as he grabs his keys. You shake your head as you were too busy following along, making a water colored painted picture with watercolor pens in your mixed media sketchbook with The Joy of Painting playing on the television. Your baby was next to you in their playpen, sucking on a pacifier as they pressed down on interactive toys.

“A goodbye kiss would be nice.”

You look up at his waiting figure with a soft grin as you set your brush in the paint water jar.

Lips move together as you hold onto him.

“I’ll be back.”

“Hurry.” You tease and sit back down.

The picture was finished and the mess was cleaned up and the baby was taking a nap. You sprawled out on the couch, watching people argue about rent money in court as you heard the front door open and close.

You sit up as you see Paul carrying in bags. You mute the tv as you follow him in the kitchen.

You look at the items that he was pulling out of the bags and setting down on the counter.

Bottles of Everclear, vanilla vodka, pumpkin pie spice, jugs of apple cider, cinnamon sticks, mason jars, regular sugar and brown sugar.

You watch as he then grabbed a pot.

“Should I ask?”

“Emily gave me an idea.”

“You’re baking?” You ask.

“Nope. A special drink.”

You watch as he moved about. He included you as he made you add some of the ingredients to the pot. You both watched as it all simmered in a pot before you both eventually jarred them all.

“How did you learn to make this?”

He looked down a bit, “One of the women I used to see, made this from time to time and it was a real hit at parties.”

You nod in understanding. It even smelled good.

“I know you have a sharpie.” He tells you.

You nod and go grab one from your pen and pencil case. You hand it to him and he picks up a jar and write a price, nice and big.

“Twenty five bucks?” You read.

“Twenty five bucks.” he confirms.

“Each?”

“Each.” He grinned.

You pick up the jar and peer at the liquid.

“Think I’ll clean up?” He asks. You take your eyes away from the jar and aim your eye contact to him.

“I have faith.” You grin, “What’s this called?”

“Homemade apple spiced moonshine.”

“How come you never made this for me?” You ask in a teasing tone. It looked good.

“It will get you fucked up.”

You set the jar back down with a soft chuckle.

He pulled your tank top down a bit as you looked in the mirror.

“Would you quit it?” You swat his hand away. You frown as you didn’t want the fabric to be too stretched out. You adjust it back to how you had it.

“They’ll want to buy you instead of the drinks.” He huffed.

“You’re so dramatic.” You say with a slight smile.

You both move to the living room to say goodbyes to your kid who was sitting in their grandfather’s lap.

“Bye-bye. I love you.” You coo to them as Paul placed affectionate kisses upon them. They clutched onto your finger as you wiggled it a bit in their grasp.

They watch both you and Paul as you both walked away and it ached your heart as Paul slung an arm around your shoulders.

The warm night air flew in both you and Paul’s faces as you both drove to the destination. You turn to him as he focused on the road.

“Have you done this before?” you ask.

“Selling this? No. But be good at convincing people?…” he chuckled a bit.

“Ha, ha.” you say sarcastically, “Now, what if someone actually finds out that it’s not moonshine? You’re too heavy for me to pick up off the ground.” You tease the last sentence and laugh at his expression.

“It’s why this is a one time thing because if you do something like this repeatedly, people will catch on. Plus, nobody can beat me and I would like to see them try.”

“You need a license to sell alcohol. I should leave you in the cell with the rats if you get caught.”

He rolled his eyes a bit, “Y/N, do you not know who your husband is by now? Just watch and learn. I got this.”

People’s eyes were excited as they passed him money that he passed to you to hold onto. His smug expression proved your worries wrong. Him knowing a lot of people, helped benefit him. Strangers were even all smiles as cash was in their hand.

They practically threw their money at him.

Even taking sips before walking away and exclaiming how good it was.

Soon, the jars in the trunk were dwindling down so much that you almost couldn’t keep up. Some people even bought multiple jars at a time.

He shut the trunk down with a loud thunk. You hid the money in a bag in the car and he parked somewhere else, away from other cars.

Hand in hand, you both walked back to the fair.

“What I tell you?” He says in your ear.

“Okay, fine.” You chuckle, “Maybe….Just maybe…I doubted your marketing skills..You’re a great business man.”

“Exactly.” He smiled.

You look around as you were in line with your arms folded. You were thirsty. Paul went off to get something to snack on.

You look at her. Rachel looks at you. She was in another line next to you.

She laughed a bit as whispered something out of the side of her mouth to her friend and they look at you with a laugh. You rolled your eyes as you moved up the line.

You get a can of soda.

The next thing pissed you off.

As you walk away while cracking it open, you feel a nudge on the back of your shoulder that made you stumble forward a bit and heard more laughter. You calmly stop in your tracks and turn around.

Rachel and her friend gave you a mean look before turning back around laughing.

You walk closer to them and throw your can with good aim, making the coloured soda splash up and on them as they gasp loudly. It was a bad day for them to wear bright colored anything.

You heard laughter.

You turn around to see Paul looking at the scene, finding it comical. Rachel, looked very embarrassed as she saw him looking and laughing, she stomped off with her friend following after her.

“Here, try this.” He then says while chewing as he thrusts a fried treat in your face.

Bella eventually found you and stole you away, Jacob and Paul battled each other on the basketball arcade game.

The bright lights shined around you and Bella as you both laughed at each other as you both were pony riding as the mechanical ponies went up and down.

As you and Bella were in line for a chairoplane, you see Jared with all smiles as Kim genuinely looked happy. He nuzzled at her neck as she shyly smiled up at him. She fed him pieces of cotton candy. Them kissing took you off guard after everything that was going on.

They were acting like the imprinted couple that they were supposed to be.

“With me being nosy, things are good with Kim and Jared?” You ask Bella.

She nods with a soft smile, “Yeah…They’re pretty adorable together.. It's nice to see them like this instead of distant.”

“That’s good. It took them a while to get to this point.”

“Kim’s been hanging around Rachel and her friends and I think they’re getting her comfortable with boys. When they come over, that’s almost all that they talk about. Rachel keeps telling Kim to do this and that with Jared. Seems like she’s been listening.”

“Is Rachel good to you?”

She shrugged, “She’s okay. I feel like if I wasn’t with Jacob, she wouldn’t deal with me. She leaves me alone but…She tolerates me, I guess. ”

You told her about what happened and she laughed a bit as she visualized the splash on her clothes.

“So, that’s why I haven’t seen her since earlier.” She smiled.

You shake your head with your own grin.

“What she gets.” She muttered under breath and it was you guy’s turn to get on the ride.

In the car, as you held oversized stuffed animal that Paul had won for you, he showed off the fish that was in a small plastic bag.

“What’re we going to put it in?” You ask with a small laugh as you watched the orange fish swim in the limited space.

“We’ll find something.” He smiled.

You were speechless as you and Paul kneeled at the coffee table at home, counting the amount of money sprawled out on it.

“Why do I hate but also love your thinking at the same time?”

Paul continued to laugh as he pressed a kiss on the side of your head.

“Six hundred bucks..” you say as you couldn’t believe it.

“And to think I was thinking about not going in the first place.”

“Oh shoot!” You say as you stood up on your feet.

“What?”

Your hand flies to your neck, on your mark, “I didn’t even cover this. People probably thought I was victim or something.” You realized.

He laughs a bit with a shake of his head, “People were too drunk to even notice, you’re alright.”

He then took that opportunity to stand and nip your neck, you place two hands on his shoulders as his dark grin made your stomach drop.

He slowly leaned forward, stealing your lips as you couldn’t do anything else but sigh into his mouth as you felt his hands touch you without shame.

He then walked away. You stood there frozen before you followed him. A safe that he pulled from under his bed, was in his hands and he put all of the money in there.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask meekly as you see him getting into bed.

“Didn’t take your clothes off fast enough.”

You’re pressed against him as you almost instantly fall asleep. His hot temperature felt like a blanket as his arms were wrapped around you.

Your naked leg was hooked over his hip as both mouths were occupied with each other’s.

Your baby took in the pet supply store with their eyes as you held them on your hip. Paul pointed to the very thing that you both came for.

You both bought a small fish bowl and when you got home, Paul dumped the fish into the bowl.

He picked up the small child as showed them their pet. He had placed it in their bedroom. He guided their small finger to the glass to show them the swimming species.

Paul tried to get them to sound out fish as the child stared at their father with a soft smile as they tried their best to shape their mouth while watching his mouth. Pointing at the fish bowl with Paul’s encouragement.

The clinks of silverware filled your dinner table as you invited Paul's father over for dinner.

“Son, when you don’t patrol as much, I can give talk to my supervisor.”

“About what?” Paul hit back with.

His father stressed, “To come work with me.”

Paul put his head back a bit and moved it back forward as he said, “Hell no.”

You nudge his shoulder with the back of your hand.

“Your job is so boring.” he groaned.

“But it pays the bills.” his father shrugged and put his utensil in his mouth.

“Well, what would you like to do?” You ask as your hand caressed the nape of his neck.

"Not no damn construction." Paul muttered.

"You shit on it but it's what took care of your ass." Paul's father replied with his fork lifted towards Paul.

You all share a warm chuckle.

The television glowed in the living room as Paul held you in his lap. You lay back against his chest as you sketch without direction. The afternoon was lazy and your baby was in their walker, a toy in their mouth as their small feet moved.

“Why don’t you just draw? I can show you the tricks of the trade.”

“Because…” he trailed off.

“Because…” you encouraged with a motion of your hand.

“Because I don’t want to.” he simply said.

“Hm..Okay…”

“I like drawing with you.” “You’re my favorite artist.” you say.

He laughs as he shakes his head, clearly thinking it’s a joke but he notices that you’re not laughing.

“I’m serious.” you quietly say and look ahead. He rubbed your knee affectionately.

“Well, why can’t it just be an “us” thing?”

You don’t say anything as you didn’t have anything else to say. You felt him nudge you.

“Did I offend you?”

You sit up and look at him with a soft chuckle, “No..Yeah, it can be an “us” thing.”

“You went all quiet on me.” He says as he caressed your eyebrow with his thumb. You shrug.

He sighed a bit as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry. Where does it all go?” You asked in a trailed off voice and he takes your hand to the front of his shorts. He chuckled at your expression as you scoot off of the couch with a grin.

“Let’s go over Emily’s so that you don’t have to cook.” He suggested.

“Fine.”

Your footsteps walked through the doorway as Paul carried the child through Emily’s home as he went to greet her.

Your smile simmered into a neutral expression as you met eyes with the last person you wanted to see.

Rachel.

The tension match was cut to a short when Bella came to you and hugged you tightly and talked your ear off of how Jacob told her how hungry he was.

Rachel still squared her gaze at you.

Plates didn’t even finish clink against the table from passing around food, when Rachel had the spotlight on her as she stands and sways her body in dramatic and theatric fashion.

“Thanks so much for the dinner Emily!”

“No problem, sweetie.”

“It’s very delicious!” She says with the most radiant smile.

It all happened so fast.

She flicked her wrist and the cup knocked over, liquid dripping on your lap as you rise up with a gasp. You chuck the cup right at her.

“Girls! Stop!” Emily begged out.

Rachel threw the cup back and you ducked. The loud clatter of the cup hitting the wall, startled Emily’s kid that was sitting on their father’s lap and they started to cry.

“Okay. Let’s go outside, since you’re so bold.” You grit out as you go to the door.

Large, strong hands grab you and wouldn’t let you move. You struggle with frustration and try your hardest to shove Paul's arms down from around your waist, but it wasn’t any use. You were getting frustrated but kept your focus on her.

“Let’s go. Since you want to throw soda at people. You fucking ruined my outfit at the fair.” She seethed. It irritated how she taunt you with her words. It was as if it was personal.

"Rach, just stop." Jacob begged his older sister and grabs her arm.

“Good. Next time, you will learn how to keep your hands to yourself.” you shot back.

“Showing off for Paul. It’s pathetic...”

“Using your dead mother to try to kiss a married man is pathetic.” You throw out. Her face was priceless and gasps was heard from witnesses as you’re moved down Emily’s hallway.

As soon as the door closed to the spare room, you peel off your wet shirt off along with your pants and flop on the bed and put your head in your hands with a frustrated grunt.

Warm, gentle hands pulled your hands from your face.

“Come on, don’t let her of all people get to you.” Paul pleaded in a hushed tone.

You blink at the floor until he kneeled to your level and pulled you to him to bury your face in his chest.

“I just get so…Mad.” you breathe out as you wanted to cry of anger but you stifled it.

“I know. But, you’re better than that petty shit she got got going on, alright? Fuck her.”

“My fucking….Clothes are all wet.” you whine in quiet frustration as he continued to hold you.

“I’ll ask Emily to get you some clothes.”

He leaves out of the room.

You pull down the plain t shirt and pull up the loose sweats that were on your body. He sat next to you on the spare bed, not taking his eyes off of you. Sam peaked his head in after knocking.

“Y/N, Jacob wanted me to get you.”

You look over at Paul who continues to stare at you. You stand up and walk slowly out of the room

Jacob stood in the middle of the both of you and Rachel.

“Rachel. You were wrong. Apologize to Y/N.”

She only blinked at you.

“Rachel.” He says with bass.

“She gonna buy me a new outfit?” She ask with her head faced towards him.

“Hell, no.” You say.

“Y/N…” Jacob says with his hand up, “Rachel, just apologize. If you’re not going to cooperate, I’ll just tell Dad.”

“We’re not kids anymore, Jake.” She says.

“Well, stop acting like one.”

She huffed under her breath and says, “Sorry.”

“Now…Hug.”

You would’ve thought he told her to jump from a ten foot tree.

“Jacob, you’re doing too much.” She tells him with a stomp of her foot.

“Hug. I know that sorry wasn’t even sincere.”

You stick your arms out with kind eyes and Bella hid her smile at your action.

Rachel moved forward. You tilt your head a bit and you watch her move closer and closer.

Your arm cranked back with such reflex that even surprised Jacob as he watched as his sister stumbled and fell backwards to the ground with a bloody nose.

Her eyes watered as she held her hand under her chin as blood wouldn’t stop running. You only stare down at her suffering as she started to cry out genuine tears and says that she thinks her nose is broken. She held onto her nose and cried some more as she’s on her knees.

Dark red liquid was dripping out in front of her, leaking out of the cracks of her hand.

Jacob stared at you in shock.

“I’m sorry, Jacob. I’ll treat you to lunch.” You say dryly over her whimpers.

You walked backwards before leaving out of the living room.

Sam called your name, you ignore him. You get your jacket.

“Sam, just leave her the fuck alone.” Paul hissed angrily.

You sat on the edge of the bed in thought when you got home. The night was silent as your kid was fast asleep.

"Get out of your head. You did nothing wrong." Paul says.

You nod in understanding.

Paul kissed you before he pulled the covers back and invited you to bed.

It was only Sam at the table. You softly drum your hand against the table with your other hand under your chin. He called you over. It was silent as everyone wasn't over. Emily and her baby was sleeping. Their baby was teething and sleepless nights were prevalent.

"Rachel's nose is broken." Sam tells you.

"Good."

“Billy wants you to join him and Charlie for fishing.”

“Ugh!” you say and Paul chortled next to you.

“It’s only fishing.” Sam tells you.

“Fishing is boring.”

“Have you done it?”

You’re silent.

“So, try it.” Sam suggested.

“Have fun with the old men.” Paul says as you're leaving out of the door.

“Shut up. You won’t get any, tonight.” you say with attitude and he only chuckled as he placed a kiss on your neck that made you clutch to him as your heart stopped for a second.

“Let’s go, Y/N.” Sam calls out.

You didnt speak to her. She didn't speak to you. Her nose was bandaged. You made sure to linger your eyes on it to remind her what would happen the next time she touched what was yours.

“I'm doing all of the work, dad.” she whined.

“But you’re learning aren’t you.” Billy chuckled.

Rachel groaned softly.

You stood up to grab your jacket as a breeze blew in your direction. Next thing you know, you’re falling forward off of the dock and into the river with a splash.

You hear cackling as you trudge your wet and now soaked body back onto the dock with the help of Charlie.

“It was just a joke.” You hear her say to an upset Billy and you felt frustrated with Charlie as you couldn’t budge from his guidance. You just wanted to reach her.

You both stood at your car as your face was sour while you shivered.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll even have a good talk with both Billy and Rachel.”

“It’s fine.” You say monotonously. He watched as you roared the engine to life and flew onto the road.

You cried excessively at the steering wheel.

You were thankful that your windows were tilted as you ugly cried without shame.

The door closed and you hear Paul’s voice as you walk in. He was on the phone with someone.

“Yeah. That’s her. Alright, Sam.”

You try to rush into the bathroom but Paul’s fluid body came around the corner and halted your arm.

He looked at you up and down. You look down.

“This shit doesn't make any sense." Paul says upset.

"I'm getting in the shower." you shuddered.

Luckily the child was taking a nap because Paul followed you into the bathroom and helped peel the soggy clothes from your body.

He used his body heat to help bring your shivering to a stop.

You agreed to go with Angela to pick out home decor. She called you with exciting news that she was able to get an apartment for her and Embry.

You couldn’t help but be happy for them.

It was hard to stay in the moment. Your mind ate you up.

You closed the front door of your home and lean your back against it as you stared up at the ceiling.

He saw your long face.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” you say softly and he looks at the bag you got.

“What’s in there?”

“Just smell.” you say and pull out the perfume. He took the top off and brought it to his nose and shrugged a bit.

“Not bad. It’s light…You don’t like it?”

You slump back on the couch.

“Me liking it is the problem.” you say and quietly with a slight sigh.

“What happened?”

“Thing cost me three hundred bucks.”

His eyes widened a bit, “Three hundred bucks? You paid three hundred bucks for this?”

“The cashier rung it up, I just wanted to check the price and…I didn’t want to seem like I couldn’t…Afford it. I was too embarrassed to just say no, there was even people behind me, so I just…Got it.” you say sheepishly.

He laughed at you to bring light to the situation, “Y/N, if you don’t take this back.”

“I’ll just suck it up.”

He watched as you walked from his touch.

“I’m taking a shower and I’m going to bed.” You say and dragged your feet.

Sitting in the shower, you wanted to wash the sadness that you were feeling, away.

Paul waited for you as you came out of the bathroom.

“What’s going on, Y/N? Why are you sad?”

“I don’t know…I feel emotional.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Let’s talk about it.”

“It’s just…It’s nothing.”

He rubbed your arm, “I don’t like it when you feel like this.”

You don’t say anything.

“Draw or paint it out.” he whispered.

“Nah…” you shake your head a bit.

“Well, come eat the dinner that I made for you.”

“Can I eat it later? I think I’m going to lay down.”

He had a look of commiseration as he nodded a bit.

He woke you up an hour later, much to your protests. He sat you at the table and you ate with droopy eyes.

It was delicious.

He carried you back to bed for you to sleep.

“Look. Paul, wake up.” you whisper as you shook him awake. It was still late night. You were quietly checking emails, considering picking up light commissions. You just weren't sure yet. But, notifications quickly made your attention go elsewhere.

His blood shot eyes were flashed by the computer light.

“Damn, it’s in my face.” he rasped out and squeezed his eyes closed.

“Sorry.” you say with a slight grimace before moving the lap top back.

“What is it?” He asked with a yawn.

“She’s ruining me. She’s fucking ruining me.” You say in defeat with a shake of your head. He takes the laptop out of your hands.

He reads comments under the pictures of photos that you were tagged in.

He closed the laptop and closed his eyes.

“I’ll handle it.”

You scoff with your face twisted.

“Paul.”

“Y/N, I’ll handle it. Just go back to sleep.”

He pulls you down to lay back down as you frown at the ceiling.

The next morning, you rise out of the empty bed and travel towards your baby making themselves known that they’re awake.

After feeding them and cleaning them up, you open your laptop and refresh.

It was as if you hallucinated the entire thing last night. No comments. Nothing.

You close it back slowly as you rack your brain as you knew you weren’t crazy.

You gently pushed your baby in the backyard swing as they brought out a smile. You stood in front of them as you never let them out of fingers reach.

Doubts started to swirl in your head as you stared at your happy kid. You often wondered if you deserved to even be their mother. You felt sad. You felt you didn’t have the capability to be the one that they could rely on.

You were so deep in your head that you didn’t hear Paul come until he lifted the baby out of the swing and kissed them until they babbled out loud.

“Hey.” He nudged you a bit before placing a kiss on your lips. You twitch a smile.

“You alright?”

“Yes.” You say quietly as you shift on your feet, you look at him hold your baby. Your baby had their fingers in their mouth as Paul stared at you with uncertainty.

“You sure?”

“I’m gonna get a breather. Is that alright?”

“Yeah but I wanted to tell you. I handled it. Did you check to see if she deleted them?”

You leak out a grateful smile, “Yes. Thank you.”

You rub his arm in passing and he slowly followed you as you go inside of the house.

He watched you carefully as you looked off. You shook with anxiousness as you grabbed your sketchbook.

“I’m going with you.”

“I want to go alone.”

“Y/N, we’re not doing this.”

You shift your weight onto your other leg, “Doing what?” you ask tiredly.

“There you go, not talking to me.”

“Are you hungry?” You then ask.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing. I feel like I’ve been in the house all day. I just want to clear my head, that’s all.” You say in a monotone voice.

“It’s something else.”

You don’t say anything as you stared off into space.

“I hope you’re not letting her or what she’s saying get into your head. Seriously, Y/N.”

“I’m not.” You say with quiet frustration. He sets the baby down in their playpen. He takes your shoulders.

“Set the book down.”

You toss it on the coffee table.

“What’s up?” He encouraged.

You look down and to the side.

“Look at me.”

You shift your eyes to his. It was as if his eyes brought out the truth.

“Im late.”

You look back down.

“You don’t smell pregnant.” He says after a long time.

You shrug.

“You want to see Sue?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We can go tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He held you tight that night. You felt bad that he was stuck to dealing with you and your unpredictable ways. You felt like you were putting him through so much.

"You're all for me, Y/N. Get used to it." he whispered groggily in your ear. You smile in his arms before you slowly shut your eyes.

Sue read you yours results.

“You’re not pregnant. Tests came back negative.”

“Oh..Okay.” You say as you look down.

“She’s late.” Paul says as he stares at you.

“Could be a number of reasons of why you are. Cycle changing, stress, etc.” Sue says.

“She’s also sad all of the time.”

You look up slowly as you glare at him. He continued to stare at you.

“What are you doing?” You hiss from inside of your head. He ignored this thought and continued to speak.

“She’s crying all of the time, Sue. Just down and out. She doesn’t even want to talk about it. I know that’s she’s having self doubt, it’s all in her face. She’s second guessing everything. She hasn’t even picked up her paintbrush.” he says sadly.

The look of sympathy from her was too much.

You stand up, “Nice talking to you, Sue.”

“Y/N, wait-“ Sue starts.

“I came here to see if I was simply pregnant again. Not have a therapy session.” You say as you yank the door open.

“It’s important if you say something, Y/N. You might have postpartum.”

You don’t say anything as you then walk down the clinic hallway to leave. You open the door to the waiting room and you freeze as soon as you see Rachel on her phone waiting.

You make your way over to her. Adrenaline ran high.

“Get up.”

She slowly looks up, not taking you serious.

“No. Now, move.” She says as she uses her foot to nudge your leg back wit the intention to make you move backwards and goes back on her phone. The phone that you smacked out of her hand. She then jumps to her feet. Finding a fuck to give was the last thing on your list.

“You fucking bitch! You’re buying me a new phone.” She says as she then gets in your face.

You maintain eye contact, “I’m not buying your broke ass a new phone, so you can forget it.”

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” she asked with a shove.

“You’re the only motherfucker I have a problem with in this room.” you say as you thrust a finger in her face.

“If you two can’t behave, you two have to leave!” The receptionist warns.

They’re ignored as you shove Rachel harshly back down in her chair. She hops back up. Before she could blink, her already fragile nose was leaking with blood from the continuous blows of your fist.

You heard the receptionist call the police.

Laid out on the floor, you hovered over her as everything that you felt was poured out onto her face. It felt good. It felt satisfying.

Your jaw clenched as your hands choke her out. The dissociative look on your face scared Paul as he hurriedly pulled you off of her. He thought that you would’ve actually killed her had he not come sooner enough.

He felt your blinding anger, it scared him as he hadn’t felt that angry in a very long time. He was deeply concerned.

You’re silently angry but he steers you to the passenger side after you reached for the driver side door.

“No, you’re not driving.” He says with a shake of his head.

You were deathly silent as he drove back home. He kept peaking over at you and you looking at the road as if you were going to attack it next.

Dinner was easy. You even mashed the boiled potatoes to make mashed potatoes with ease since the anger allowed you to be thorough.

You ate dinner heavy handed. Each clink was loud.

“I didn’t like how you put me on blast like that.” You speak out at the table. Your fork was almost bent as you gripped it tightly.

“She’s your doctor.” He says carefully.

“I don’t care.”

Paul didn’t let your anger affect him. He honestly wouldn’t say he would do different. He was patient.

“I’m going to talk to Jake. He needs to get his sister in line.”

“And tell him I got her in line for him.” You mutter.

He bit back a smile.

"You served her right. Get her out of your mind. You're at home now. Your safe place."

You breathed heavily as you stared at your plate.

He washed the dishes and your patience was very thin.

“Come, on. Get in the bed.” You say roughly as you tugged on his shorts when he entered the bedroom.

You were already naked and his face showed dark excitement.

“Look at you, you’re so aggressive.” He speaks softly in your ear. He watched in hidden amusement as you yank his shorts down off of his hips. He sprung out close to your face.

You grabbed him with possessiveness as you stroke with eye contact. He thought he would come in your hand right then and there.

"You're mine. No one else's. I’m your imprint. No one else's." you say in a sultry voice with each stroke as you keep your eyes on his. His groaned as his lip was bit from his teeth.

Your head faced up at the ceiling as you sensually bounced on his length. You let out your emotions through claiming him. His hands blindly felt your breasts but you shoved his hands down and kept them by his head as you worked your hips without his help. Your fingers interlaced with his as you whined out. His hips still moved sensually upwards to reach all of you.

“Say it, Paul. Say that you’re mine.” You moaned out.

“I’m yours, baby. Fuck. All yours.” He groaned out.

His face showed he was so far gone. Here you were, taking control. Making him submit to you. Your chest was pressed to his as he gripped your back, keeping your body close. You rode him hard and he was coming but he was speechless as you circled your hips.

Your open mouth kisses on his neck transformed it into a bite on his shoulder blade as he moaned loudly, keeping a large hand on your head to keep your mouth there. He shot his load in you and your hips still don't stop.

You don't remember falling asleep. You didn't remember the ending of the intense lovemaking. You were pressed skin to skin to Paul as you blink awake.

“It’s a new day, Y/N.” he rasped out in his morning voice.

“I know.” You whisper calmly into the morning air.

You felt light. As if you were lying in the middle of a cloud. You haven't felt so imperturbable as the tranquility surrounded your spirit.

"You did a number on me." he murmured with a tired chuckle and nudges you so that you could look.

You trailed your fingers on the small bite mark. You sit up. He couldn't take his greedy eyes off of the fact that the cover gracefully fell from your nippy breast.

"Paul, Im sorry. Shit. I don't even remember doing that.." you say in an anxious voice.

He smiled a breathtaking smile and kissed your anxiousness away, enough to make you lightheaded.

You made sure that your baby has eaten before settling them down and took Paul into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet lid while you dab his bite with antibacterial.

"Does it hurt?"

He kept staring at it.

"Nope." he asked in a light voice.

"I'm so sorry. I don't even know what came over me." you groaned with a grimace.

"It's fine, Y/N. Really. Just get out of your head." he chuckled.

You put a bandage there and he took your hand as he stood up.

“You want me to make you something?” he asked you.

“I honestly have a taste for cereal.” You say and he smiles a bit with an, “Okay.”

Your kid was in their walker as you and Paul then munched on the breakfast that you two had poured into bowls.

A sharp knock rang out.

You rise but Paul told you that he would get it.

“Hey Charlie. What’s going on?”

“I need to come in.” You hear.

Feet shuffled and the door closed as you heard Charlie's voice again but closer.

"What happened to your neck?"

"A bite." Paul answered.

"Oh. Be careful. It's that season..Anyway, I need to speak to Y/N. It's important."

You rise as you enter the living room, Paul looked a bit frightened but you knew he suppressed it.

Charlie pursed his lips at the sight of you.

“Hey, kid. How you doing?”

“I’m…Fine…”

“Look, the last thing I want to do is disturb you and Paul’s morning but…Rachel filed a police report against you for what you did yesterday.”

You look to the floor.

“Of course she did.” Paul says with frustration and annoyance.

“Her nose is broken again and surveillance footage at the clinic shows that you were actually choking her. Evidence is stacked against you because she has witnesses: The staff and people in the waiting room.”

“You were there and saw for yourself when she pushed me in the river.” You say in a shaky voice. The last thing you wanted was to go to jail.

“I know..Had it been you know, somewhere else where no extra eyes were around and you weren't on camera, I could’ve done some manoeuvring.”

“Come on, Charlie. All of those times you let me go for fighting and you can’t do the same for her? It’s bullshit.”

“Paul, nobody you fought wanted to file a police report, so you had that on your side but…This isn’t the case for Y/N….Y/N, I have no choice but to take you down to the station.”

“Charlie!” Paul pressed.

“We’re just going to ask her questions. I’m not arresting her.”

You were pissed at the investigators for trying to twist the situation. It was tiring.

“You broke her nose the first time. Then, broke it again the second time you two went at it. Then…You choked her. You were trying to kill her.” One said in a nasty tone as they were close to your face.

“I’m not speaking until I get my attorney.” You hiss with your arms crossed.

The charges were filed. Charlie still promised that you will see light no matter what happens.

"How do you plead?" the judge asked.

You said what your lawyer advised you to do.

"Not guilty." you spoke out.

The judge posted a bond for you to avoid jail time.

Paul's heart broke when the handcuffs were on your wrists. You kept a brave face and kept telling him that it's okay.

He had a look of determination.

You had your phone call while you were in holding. He was the first person you called.

"How much is your bail again?" he asked.

You tell him. He heard the chaotic commotion in the background. He hated the sound of your voice, it showed unsettled emotion.

"You wont spend the night in there, Y/N." he promised.

Sitting in the holding cell was hell. People screamed. People cried loudly. It smelled really bad. Drug addicts were going through withdrawal. It was very cold. Your arms were in the inside of your shirt as you tried to keep warm.

The people in there definitely made you realise that you didn't want to experience a sentencing.

The officer who seemed to have a permanent attitude on his face unlocked your handcuffs.

“You made bail.”

"That was quick." you thought.

You follow the officer and you froze when you saw a surprising figure.

"Paul?" you ask in disbelief.

You ran towards him and he hugged and kissed you back.

“I probably stink.” You whisper into his shoulder but he only squeezed you tighter.

“Oh, hush.” He tells you, you could hear the smile in his voice.

You both made your way outside and into the car.

He told you that Bella offered to watch the baby at the house while he went to come get you.

“There’s no money missing.” You say as you show him your phone as you check your online banking.

He glanced but didn’t say anything with one hand gripping the steering wheel. He shifted in his seat.

“Did you borrow?” You ask.

“No. I took care of it....With my own money.”

“How did you?”

“Y/N…Please let’s not…” he says with a shake of his head. He was getting antsy.

You place a hand on his knee.

“Hey...I’m not going to be mad at you, Paul. I appreciate you…I just want to know. We promised no more secrets, remember?” You say gently.

He looked pained as he flicked the turn signal.

You look out of the window before turning your head back to him. Your bail was a lot. You didn't sit in holding for no more than two hours. Paul accumulated that much money so quickly. Something told you to ask him. You look down at your fingers as you softly ask him.

“Did you see your friend?”

“…I have many friends.” He answered quietly.

You blink at your hands in your lap.

“The one with the plants. Did you go see him?” You clarify.

“….I talked to him.”

You noticed that he emphasized “talked”.

“Did his plants…Help you out?”

“No.” he shook his head.

“Was it something else?...Something more strong?”

“….Yeah…”

“He showed you how to do it?

“He showed me who to go see to show me how to get that much money in little time to free my wife ….Look, Y/N, I would do it all over again all for you. I have no regrets so don’t try to make me feel bad.”

You looked down in your lap.

“I did what I had to do…” he continued.

“I had the 5k, Paul. You didn’t have to do that..We have a joint account for crying out loud.” you say as you got nervous.

“We’re not spending your hard earned money to buy your freedom back all because of some bitch who’s miserable.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble! I don’t want that for you. It doesn't feel good being in there.” You say in a worrisome tone.

“It’s done. You’re fine and you’re here. That’s all that matters.” He says calmly and you sit back in your seat.

You stood in the courtroom as they tell you that this was your first misdemeanour charge.

Fourth degree.

The judge had mercy on you and you knew it was all because of Charlie. It wouldn't stick on your record as long as you complied to the orders.

Six months of probation with a fine and anger management classes. You were just glad that there was no jail time.

"Don't mess up your bright future for something stupid, Mrs. Lahote." the judge says and slams the gravel.

The no drugs and alcohol thing was easy as they did surprise tests. You passed without a problem, you've even been going to your classes.

You couldn't stop staring at Paul as you both help each other cook dinner in the kitchen. You just found out that he paid off the fine in full when you tried to pay it. You didn't say anything.

You just showed him appreciation as you both held each other close late at night and whispered out how good you two were making each other feel. It made the connection between you two hum with glee. You came so hard, you cried. He kissed your tears away before holding you to sleep.

A passion project was something that you haven't done in a while. You decided to try a different approach with your art. You try a sentiment art piece. You mixed clay with paint and many different mediums to create what you wanted to make.

It was time consuming but, with Paul's father bonding with his grandchild, you took advantage.

You set the piece to the side to dry as you looked at the piece that you crafted, a somewhat human looking head, capturing the bloody mess on one's face to make them unrecognisable. It had such detail that you made sure it would not let one's eyes wander from it.

You didn't know whether or not you wanted to keep it, sell it, or gift it to Rachel. You felt proud regardless.

It was Jacob who called you to treat you out for lunch.

"I talked to my dad."

"Oh." you commented as you picked at your sandwich.

"I told him that Rachel being around Rebecca right now is what's best. I called Rebecca and she agreed that being around her twin will probably knock some sense into her head. It's been too hectic since she came back. I missed my older sister, but I'm ready for things to be back to how they were."

"Yeah..I can't believe I saw what a jail cell looks like." you say.

"How was it?" he asked as he took a big bite of his lunch.

"It stinks in there." you say and you both bust out a laugh.

"It's crazy in there. A lot of yelling in there too. Plus, it's cold." You continued.

He shakes his head.

"Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you, I haven't told anyone else this but, Im thinking about stepping up to my Alpha role." he says with a grin.

You widen your eyes a bit.

"Jake..Are you sure? That's like a lot of responsibility."

"I'm sure...I'm born for it after all. Plus, I get to tell you and Paul what to do."

You groan as he laughed.

You drove on the road as your mind thought about the hectic events that had been happening. The ugly head of doubt made its way towards you as you thought of how bad of a mother you felt for making someone get you out of character like that. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you had to go away and serve time.

A ringing made you snap out of it.

Paul.

“Have you been to the springs?"

"Um...No... Have you?" you ask as you felt in a daze.

"Yeah, when you get back we should go. It's not dark yet." A beat. "Where are you at?" he asked.

"On my way home." you say as you continued to press the gas pedal on the road back home.

"Good..Well, hurry up." he says and you chuckle softly as you wipe your eyes.

Paul took your hand as you followed him, climbing up the steep walkways. He kept looking back at you with a contagious smile.

You felt the humid mist before you saw the beautiful landscape with crystal clear water. Untouched.

Your eyes lit up.

"Paul..How did you find this?” you ask breathlessly.

"Patrol is good for somethings, I guess." you both chuckled at his statement.

You shrug off your jacket, wearing a swim suit as you follow him to the edge of the rocks.

"Want to get on my back?" he asked.

You fling yourself on his back.

"Y/N, don't close your eyes." he says and before you know it, you're in the air as you let out an excited noise with his.

You both swim to the surface with excited expressions. You both couldn't help but press lips to each other's mouths. You have your arms around his neck as he held you in the water, taking dominant control over the lip locked session.

"Jump."

You crouch on the high rocks as you tried to shake the nervousness off of yourself.

"Just jump." Paul says from the water again.

"Okay..Okay..." you nervously smile a bit. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"No! Open them."

"Why so many rules?!" you say in playful frustration.

You try to straighten your shaky legs and shake your head at the height.

"Fuck it." you say and jump off and splash into the height.

Paul smiled at you as you swim towards him.

"See, wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked.

You shake your head.

"You want this to be ours?" Paul asked you as you both then sat on the rocks, water dripping from each other's glistening skin.

Your heart soared with excitement as a dopey smile rose from your face.

"Yeah...Only you know about this place?" you ask softly.

He nods proudly.

"Only me. So, that means you can't veer off on your own trying to find it because you wont."

You bubbled out a laugh.

You both climb the high rocks again. Ready to jump.

"You're not a scaredy cat, anymore?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"Shut it." you groaned as he chortled and you tried to push him off of the ledge, only for him to take you with his fall. You squeal as you fall with him into the water.

You splash him when you two come to the surface and you laugh at his shocked face. You two splash each other. It was you who wanted to tap out as he laughed at the fact that you were overwhelmed by his splashes.

Wet and tired from the eventful activities, you're sat in the passenger seat after he carried you to the car. Relaxing as the car moved on the road.

You look over while he's driving.

"Your bandage is gone." you point out.

It never healed. It was fresh as if you had just done it seconds ago, not from the night of when you did it.

He touched the mark that you had left on him and smiled a bit to himself as he didn't say anything. He continued to drive with one hand.

#paul lahote #twilight #paul lahote x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #y/n imagines #y/n #paul lahote angst #paul lahote fluff #twilight saga #x y/n #x reader #wolfpack #wolf pack #paul lahote imagine #imagine #paul lahote x y/n #twilight x reader #paul lahote fanfic

33 notes · View notes

meanderingwistera · 2 hours ago

Text

Heaven is here- if you want it

You’re the closest to heaven I will ever get- Iris, The Goo Goo Dolls

Summary - Who knew that picking up that old book from the antique shop would lead to you accidentally summoning a demon? Not you.

Pairing - Demon!Sukuna x reader

Content - Fluff, CRACK, smut, Sukuna’s wonderful personality, talks about religion (briefly), the curse of all archaeologists and historians to accidentally summon things they shouldn’t

Word count - 6.1k

A/N - All demons can be glorified house cats if you try hard enough.

You had known that buying that old tattered book was a bad idea when you could barely read it. It had a dark leather cover and had multiple crosses burned into it, like it was trying to keep something in there. And the pages all were in latin- which you couldn’t read.

Sure you took a semester of Latin but that was the extent of your knowledge. And that had faded over time. But you had resolved to buy it and translate it yourself. It would be a fun challenge for you to do in your free time after your exams.

During exams you had completely forgotten about the book until a week after your last class ended for the summer.

You had been cleaning out your desk when you rediscovered the book in all its hideous glory. With a glass of cheap wine you went through it in a deeper way, looking through it for any semblance of understanding. But all you could come up with was a list of ingredients.

Maybe it was an old cookbook?

The Latin in it was older than what you learned in college. It must be an earlier version of it- maybe even a local strand of it special to a specific town or region. You flip to a random page and decide to try and figure out what it says. The page is burnt at the edges and has a picture of- what you assume- is an oddly specific way to stir the soup?

No, if the Latin translator you found online was right it was a chilli. If this is an actual recipe that you can translate you will be on the fast track of getting recognized by the rest of the Historian community.

Standing up from the couch you walk into your shitty kitchen. You put a pot on the stove and rifle through your spice cabinet for everything you will need. It is both specific and vague, calling for things like thyme and then something that just translates to red.

Half way through the ordiel you end up on the floor, the book in your hands and your old laptop close by. Typing in a word into the translator you see that word that translates to red again. Maybe red food colouring would work. Most people back when you assume this book was written didn’t bother with colouring their food a certain way on a regular basis. But certain plants would have that natural color to change it to red.

You get up and grab your old bottle of red food coloring from the back. This should hopefully work, if it didn’t you were back to square one. Two drops of food coloring enter the pot and it turns a bloody red.

You stir it in the way the book showed, in a star motion.

After that you decide to taste it- which was a bad idea because it tastes awful. You gag and sputter as you get a cup of water. Downing almost the whole thing you heave.

Maybe these people had very different taste buds from you but that was the worst chilli you ever had.

Sitting back on the floor you open the book again. You look at the pages with a frown as the letters don’t make any more sense than ten minutes ago.

A tremor runs through your apartment. The walls shake and you hear glass breaking. You hold onto the counter for dear life, try not to panic and hope the tremor will pass soon.

A minute later you can breathe easy as it passes. Still holding the book you open your phone to check and see what that was. You briefly look up because something black catches your eye that wasn’t there before. A man comes into your view, he stands a few feet away from you.

The man now standing in your kitchen is tall, much taller than any regular human, six-four at the least. He probably has about a head or two on you if you were standing on your toes. But that isn’t the only thing that is off about him. Two horns are on his head and twist back like a ram’s horns.

His red eyes look around your messy kitchen in confusion. He also looks somewhat disappointed and you can’t blame him. You were a poor college student and couldn’t afford a good apartment unless you sold your soul for it. But as he glares at it you feel a little offended. It may be a shitty kitchen, but it was your shitty kitchen.

Eventually his eyes settle on yours.

“What do you want from me?” His voice seems to boom in your kitchen like he was talking into a microphone.

“Who are you and how did you get into my apartment?” You counter his question with one of your own.

“You summoned me.” He tells you like you were stupid.

“I am pretty sure I didn’t-”

The man -demon? you can’t tell- groans and rubs his temples like you were the one inconveniencing him. After a second of you staring at him, he speaks again.

“Sweet lucifer.” He curses and joins you on the floor. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, telling him to continue speaking.

“You summoned a demon, me-” He points to himself, “with this book” then points to the book.

“So this isn’t a cookbook?” You ask him for clarification, you need to know what type of book this is to fully translate it.

“No, this is a grimoire.”

You sigh deeply, “So what happens now? Do I sell you my soul or whatever?”

The demon looks contemplative as he stares at you. His red gaze makes you shift, it was intense and electricfying.

You can’t deny the demon’s attractiveness, his exposed torso is muscled and broad, his face all sharp angles. Even his nonhuman features added to his appeal. You had already noticed the horns but now you see a black pointed tail switching behind him as he thinks.

“Y'know what? I will grant your wish for free.” He says with a smirk that shows his pointed canines.

A free wish- but how far can you go? Do most people wish for money? Or youth? What do you actually want?

You look at him then at the book and then to him again.

“You can read this right?” You ask slowly.

“I can do anything you want.” He says, smirk widening.

“Then I want you to help me translate this book.”

The demon’s red eyes widen in surprise and his smirk drops, “That’s what you want? Not wealth or eternal youth?”

“Neither of those things interest me,” You hold the book up to him, “this does!”

His unconvinced attitude is back in full force as he groans. You wonder if he expected something grand. All things considered you were fine financially and eternal life seems lonely.

“Besides this could help us understand how the people who wrote this lived and where! I couldn’t understand the Latin in it but it may be a old form of it, maybe even the earliest form of it so we can trace it back to where Latin was first used-”

He puts a hand over your mouth, cutting you off mid ramble about the Latin language. You blink in confusion as he holds his hand there for a while.

“Do you ever stop talking woman?” He hissed at you.

If you could answer you would tell him no but you can’t at the moment.

“Don’t answer that-” He sighs, “I will grant your wish.”

You light up like a firework. This would be so helpful to your career, you can already imagine the paper you could write about this. The demon on the other hand doesn’t look so happy about this.

Finally he removes his hand from your mouth and you smile at him, not minding him shutting you up anymore.

“Thank you for this!” You go to hug him only to be pushed back by one of his arms.

“Don’t touch me human.” He growls at you.

“What is your name? Or something I can call you?” You ask him.

“Sukuna- let’s get this over with.”

Sukuna has been summoned by humans for thousands of years. He has been asked for so many things that the requests blend together. The most prominent things are youth or wealth, he loves to twist those two wishes.

The most recent man to summon him was a businessman, who had a decent amount of money but Sukuna can always see the gleam of pure greed in people’s eyes. He had wished to become the most wealthy man in the world.

Sukuna had barely suppressed a grin as he granted his wish. The man was so pleased with his wish, watching the zeros extended far then anyone else had. But he was soon arrested for running an illegal underground drug ring. Sukuna had made him wealthy but the man had never specified how he wanted to make him wealthy.

You were an outlier to this. He has seen his far share of scholars but they always ask for fame, which eventually leads to them either being killed by fans or going insane. You had surprised him with your wish.

Sukuna had been sure you would wish for something different from how you had looked at him. The way you looked him over had been not with fear but something much better, want. And he was prepared to give you what you wanted. No one else had wished for him before so he was flattered and even gave you the wish for free.

And now he is stuck being a translator. The second in command to Lucifer, one of the most feared demons in history is a damn translator for the duration of this wish. He would be a laughing stock if anyone found out.

The grimoire you have is long so it will take at least a week if not two before it is done.

You were excited about this and had gathered a notebook and pencil. He just rolls his eyes at your excitement, letting you know about his displeasure at being used this way. You didn’t seem to care about that- which only made him more irritated.

“Okay!” You look at him expectantly and tap your pencil on the paper. “Let's start on this.”

Sukuna grabs the book and begins to read it to you. You scribble down the words on the paper as he reads. Over the course of a few hours you take notes and write down the translation.

Every so often you stop him to ask a question about the words and if they have different meanings in a different context as well as about punctuation

He also meets your cat. The little beast attempts to lay on the papers you are working on and is genuinely a nuisance. At one point you have to hold the cat with one arm and write with the other.

“Alright! Let’s stop for the night.” You say with delight.

He huffs and closes the book. You get up and stretch with a hum. His eyes catch on the sliver of skin that shows as your shirt rides up. He feels his mouth water looking at it. But as soon as he sees it you lower your arms and the skin is covered up again.

“Do demons sleep?” You ask curiosity plain on your face as you look at him as if he were a test subject.

“I don’t have too but I assume you would feel better if I did?” Sukuna says and you turn bashful.

“Only if you want to- let me get you a blanket and pillows so you can take the couch.” You tell him quickly then practically run off to what he assumes is your room.

Maybe this won’t be a total waste of his time.

“Where are you going, human?” Sukuna says to you as you grab your keys from the little cat shaped key ring.

You have spent three days translating the book and are only half way through. Sukuna is a great help if not a little irritated with your questions.

“I have to work so I have a roof over my head.” You explain and slip on your shoes, “also Toffee needs sacrifices.”

Sukuna looks down right offended, “You give that beast sacrifices? It does nothing but bathe and eat all day.”

You can’t help but laugh as the joke flies over his head.

“It was a joke, she hasn’t demanded sacrifices yet but she does demand food.” You explain and wipe the tears out of your eyes from laughing.

He crosses his arms with an unimpressed look that he gives you all too often. You pat his arm in a placating gesture.

“I taught you how to use the remote and Toffee is here to keep you company. I will be back in a few hours.” You tell him with a gentle smile.

Sukuna doesn’t look impressed but turns around to stalk over to the couch. You giggle and walk out the door- he is very interesting in his own grumpy way.

Sukuna doesn’t like being left alone. He feels a deep sense of boredom as he flips through the TV channels. Nothing is interesting to him and you aren’t here to talk to him about your chosen topic. He would prefer that to the pure silence he is now subjected to in your absence.

He tires of flipping through channels quickly and turns the TV off. Toffee looks up at him from her spot in the sunlight shining through the window because of the movement. Her feline eyes are narrowed at him. Raising to the obvious challenge he narrows his eyes right back.

Toffee either is intimidated or doesn’t care because she gets up to wash her ears. He considers this a win and feels rather smug about it. The beast, after deeming her ears clean, saunters over to him. She rubs against him with a meow.

“You have a lot of audacity to touch me, beast.” He grumbles to her. She doesn’t seem to care and continues to rub her head against his calf.

Toffee meows again and paws at his leg for attention. Huffing in irritation he picks her up and brings them eye to eye. She stares at him and Sukuna stares back.

“I don’t like you.” Sukuna tells her.

Toffee looks like she doesn’t believe him.

Work is boring.

After the morning rush at your job the day is filled with boredom and cleaning everything multiple times for something to do. You are cleaning the counter for what feels like when Haibara, your relief, comes in. He is all smiles and you don’t know how he can be so cheerful in the service industry you give him props for it.

“So how was your three days off?” He asks as you take off your apron and clock out.

You pause for just a moment because how do you explain that you accidentally summoned a demon while trying to recreate a recipe and now you have him in your apartment. He would call you crazy, possibly call a psych ward too and you have to finish translating that book before any of that can happen.

“They were great! It was just what I needed.” You say, trying to match his cheerfulness.

The two of you talk long after you are supposed to leave. You tell him about and show him pictures of Toffee. Haibara tells you about his latest date with Kento. Looking up at the clock you realize that you had been talking with Haibara for twenty minutes.

Shit- you need to get home. With a hasty goodbye you practically sprint to your car.

When you get back you find Sukuna on the couch, Toffee laying on his lap as he watches something on the TV. You shut the door softly so you don’t disturb both of them.

Sukuna immediately looks toward the door at your arrival. You give him a small wave and take off your shoes. It feels so good to be home. You can’t help but breathe deeply as you enter the main part of your apartment.

“Please get this beast off me.” Sukuna demands as you walk over to the two of them.

“Poor baby.” You coo at Toffee and scoop her up into your arms. Sukuna rolls his eyes as you baby her.

“She has been terrorising me all morning.” He tells you.

You raise an eyebrow, “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“I am a trustworthy source.” Sukuna says and stands, using his height on you as an intimidation tactic.

You don’t budge but a blush creeps up the back of your neck. Quickly moving out of the way so you don’t feel so caged in you put Toffee down and retreat to the kitchen.

“So how was your day?” You ask him, trying to defuse the heat in your cheeks.

“Fine.” He says straight to the point, his eyes still on you.

You both don’t really talk after that as you make dinner.

For being a demon he isn’t that bad of a person. You had expected him to trash your apartment or something of that nature. But your apartment was in mint condition and even Toffee was untouched. Maybe demons just get a bad reputation?

“So is the christian belief system real?” You ask as you sit down next to Sukuna with your dinner in hand.

He snorts, “You are speaking with a demon and you are asking whether I am real?”

“Well…” You trail off, embarrassed but still curious. Sukuna catches on quickly.

“You can choose which religion you want to be associated with.” He explains with a annoyed air to his voice, “Then you are judged by that belief system,”

Oh. That actually sounds great and rather inclusive.

The two of you lapse into silence again as you take in that information. You had been raised religious and it had affected your relationship with him. You had been terrified that he was a purely malicious being but he had proved you wrong.

After years of coming to terms with it you had been certain you would be going to hell but maybe there is a chance that you aren’t.

A fluttery feeling makes itself at home in your chest as you look him over.

“Do you want to continue with the book?” You ask, ignoring it.

“Yeah.”

After that day Sukuna and Toffee would be waiting for you on the couch when you come home from work. Sukuna claimed to not like the cat but she was always touching him in some way so you don’t really believe him. He had also taken a liking to cooking shows.

Demons can eat but apparently don’t truly need to eat. Something about the souls they consumed could keep them fed for thousands of years. Sukuna had bragged that he had consumed thousands of souls so food was no longer necessary for him. It was funny to see him watch those shows while denying any food you offer him.

But you were never one to kink shame.

“Why are you staring at me Woman?” He asks you, a brow raised in question.

You smile sweetly, “Just thinking! Also can I touch your horns? They are interesting.”

That earns you a nasty glare from the demon. It was bad for him that you lost your fear for him a few hours into his first day here. You respected his boundaries but that didn’t mean you didn’t poke them some times for a reaction.

“No you may not.” He growls at you and looks away with a huff.

You can’t help but giggle as he acts like a spoiled house cat. You also wonder if all demons are like house cats or are others more violent.

“Stop laughing.” He demands, his gaze returning to yours.

Trying hard to compose yourself you take a deep breath, only to laugh harder.

“Sorry!” You wheeze out as he looks more and more irritated with you.

Sukuna, much to his credit, only rolls his eyes. He gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. After your laughing fit you follow after him, curiosity in every step.

“What are you doing?” You ask him as he pulls out a few pots and pans.

“What does it look like?” He responds gruffly and you step out of his way so he can get to the stove.

“I thought demons don't need to eat?”

“I don’t need human food but I am bored so I thought I would try it.” He explains before practically pushing you out of your own kitchen.

Demons are weird beings.

A week after you summoned him you are fifty pages away from having it fully translated. There is a new sense of excitement and anticipation in you as the last page gets closer. But something pulls at your chest.

You don’t want Sukuna to go. He is good company, even his grumpiness is endearing in a way. Maybe you are just lonely but the closer the last page gets the more your heart drops into your stomach.

So when Haibara texts you about going out you take it as a way to prolong Sukuna’s stay. You put on the best dress you have, one that hugs you tight but not in an unflattering way.

Sukuna watches as you apply your makeup, it makes a shiver run down your spine to have his attention.

“Why are you staring at me?” You ask him over your shoulder.

He huffs and looks away, “I wasn’t.”

You giggle at his attitude and keep applying your mascara. Once you deem yourself fit to go out you get up. Sukuna watches your every movement and you try not to be too awkward under his gaze.

“Where are you going now?” He asks, his arms crossed and tail flicking with what you assume is irritation, just like a cat.

“Haibara asked me if I wanted to go out and we can finish up the translation tomorrow since I am off all day!” You explain and put on your heels.

His red eyes narrow but he doesn’t speak anymore. The air in the room gets colder somehow. You feel the tension rise in the room as you walk out the door into the hall.

That is new.

You are going out with a man.

Sukuna can feel his irritation rise by the minute. The rage prickles right under his skin. Another man is touching you in the way he should. He had never planned on getting attached to you but he now can’t handle letting you go.

At first it was just attraction, your body drove him wild. You didn’t seem to understand that he was affected by it. Then your laugh began to make his heart feel like it was dying. He was in far too deep to lose you to a stupid mortal man, he can’t please you like he could.

Maybe he should show you how much better he is than that man.

You feel good, the alcohol makes everything light and pleasant. It helps you not think about Sukuna who will be out of your life in a day. You can drink and forget.

“I think you should stop drinking!” Haibara yells over the loud music.

“I am not drunk!” You say and stand up only to wobble. Haibara is beside you in an instant, supporting you as you walk to the door.

“You are going to have the worst headache tomorrow.” He says with disapproval in his tone.

“It’s fine!” You tell him with a drunken giggle.

Haibara calls a cab and helps you into the back seat. You are a complete mess as you sit in the back seat.

He sits next to you as your drunken high turns to a drunken low. Tears prick your eyes as you remember that Sukuna is close to being out of your life. You sob into Haibara’s shoulder as he pats your back.

The cab driver stops the car and Haibara helps you out. You stumble a little but mostly make your way into the door by yourself. He has a hand on your lower back and a hand holding yours for balance.

Not deeming yourself fit for the stairs, Haibara helps you into the elevator. About halfway up to your apartment you realize that Haibara will want to help you into bed. He will see Sukuna and then you don’t know how to explain that to him.

‘Hey Haibara, so this is a demon I accidentally summoned that may or may not be dangerous and by the way I might have a major crush on!’

How do you get out of this situation?

You step out of the elevator and see your door. It feels too close for comfort, your bubbly drunk high is slowly replaced with mounting anxiety as you get closer. Haibara guides you to a stop in front of your door. As he goes to knock the door opens.

“How much did you drink?” Sukuna’s voice curls around your anxiety.

He looks… human. The ram's horns are gone and so is his tail. His eyes are more brown then red now but still have red undertones. The tattoos are still there but less prominent. Bagging jeans and a shirt have replaced the robe he was wearing.

Haibara looks confused between the two of you. Sukuna huffs and takes your left side to guide you into the apartment.

“Thank you for helping my girlfriend home.” He basically growls, Haibara looks even more confused at his comment and glare.

As the door shuts in his face the word ‘girlfriend’ swims around your mostly sober head. You are bright red as he guides you to the couch. He huffs in annoyance as you flop back onto it.

“You are so helpless like this.” He grouses as he kneels down to undo the buckles of your heels.

His hands are warm against your ankles and you are in shock. It's so much more gentle than before. You can still feel the tense air from when you left but as he helps you out of your heels his touch is tender.

His current appearance doesn’t help the images you now have in your head of Sukuna being your boyfriend. You can imagine slow mornings with him on your days off, him learning to like Toffee and being there when you get home.

If he could look like this at will then you could go out together-

“Stop thinking.” Sukuna leans up to flick your forehead and you put a hand to it in reflex.

“Sorry.” You mutter and look away from him.

“Was that the mortal who asked you out to the bar?” Sukuna’s gaze goes dark as he asks you.

“Yes-”

He rests both large hands on the back of the couch, his arms caging you in. Your face is mere inches apart as he looks at you with a mix of jealousy and lust. His red eyes trace your parted lips, then look up to you. Your breath hitches as his nose bumps with yours as he kisses you.

The kiss starts off slow, almost reverent, then his tongue licks your bottom lip. His pace quickens as you open your lips to let him in. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you.

“Mine.” He growls into your mouth, a hand resting on your thigh.

A heat ignites deep in your bones as he says it. His lips leave heated marks where they trace your skin. You gasp as his fingers ghost under the hem of your dress.

You need this. Ever since you saw him you knew you needed it. You wonder if he knows that because of the smirk on his lips as he kisses you. Sukuna flips your positions so you are straddling his lap, his hands rest on your hips as you adjust.

“You have been teasing me this entire time.” He says and his teeth graze your neck.

His teeth on your neck has you squirming in his lap. He chuckles at your reaction and sinks his teeth into your collar bone, not enough to hurt but enough to feel blood beed on the surface of your skin. As repentance he licks away the blood and kisses the broken skin.

With his hands on your hips he guides you as you grind on him slowly. It’s sinfully slow and you want more, need more.

“I need more!” You whine as his hands run up and down your sides.

“No one makes demands of me.” Sukuna says and reclines back to watch you grind down on his lap.

A languid smirk spreads on his lips.

Sukuna thinks about keeping you like this for all the times you had teased him. He thinks it a fitting punishment for you. It would be fun to watch you grind down on him and get no relief. He wonders if he could bring you to tears this way.

You would look so pretty with tears in your eyes. It would ruin the makeup you had put on for tonight. Your mascara would be running down your flushed cheeks as you beg him for release.

He cups your cheek and you lean into his touch. A pleading look on your face and a slight pout to your lips. How could he deny you with that expression on your face?

Dropping the human form it's easier to slip out of his clothes. The robe leaves nothing to the imagination as he grins at you.

Pulling your dress he gets a glimpse of what he has been craving for a week now. Your panties are soaked as you are perched on his lap. And your chest is almost spilling out of your lacey excuse for a bra.

Sukuna runs a hand down your body as you fiddle with the belt to his robe. He hisses as you expose his dick to the cold air of your apartment. It has been a few years since he has had a good fuck so his cock is sensitive to your light touch.

“Ride me, I want to be as deep inside of you as I can get.” He says as you run your hand over his length a few times.

You give him an innocent little smile as you sink down on him.

Sukuna thinks he might have gone to heaven as your tight cunt sucks him in. He grips your hips as you take all of him in. Your cunt might be the closest he will ever get to this pearly gates and he is happy with that. It was much more welcoming than that stuffy place.

You have a slight scrunch in between your brows as you adjust to his size. Soft hands find purchase on his broad shoulders as you steady yourself. After you settle you move.

“That’s it, you’ve got it.” He praises you as you ride him.

Sukuna feels you tighten around him as he says it. You must like praise, he will have to abuse that.

His hands trace up your stomach to the flimsy bra you have on. It doesn’t take long for his hands to rip the bra off of you. You look a little bit upset about that but it is replaced by pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth. There is no complaint out of you after that.

Your movements pick up pace as you reach your high. Sukuna sucking and biting on your chest is driving you closer. Trying to find something else to hold onto your hands snake up into his hair. Your fingertips graze the junction of his horns and his head.

Sukuna lets out a low growl as you touch them lightly, curious about how sensitive they are.

“I told you not to touch those.” He warns you.

“When have I- fuck-” Sukuna thrusts up into you, cutting off your sentence, “ever listened to you about stuff like that?”

“Maybe I will just have to fuck some sense into you.” He suggests and begins to fuck you in ernest.

You keep a firm hold of his horns as he picks up a brutal pace. It is both too much and not enough. Finally he finds your g-spot. Sukuna chuckles low in his chest as you whine and it goes straight to your clit. His deep thrusts become targeted at that spot as your body writhes on his lap.

Then you are over the edge, cumming all over his cock. It feels so good. Your thighs trimble as you milk his dick. He ruts up into you as your orgasm triggers his own. Sukuna’s teeth are at your collar bone as he cums. You pant as his teeth draw blood as he spills out into you. His iron grip on you tightens as he rides his high.

“I needed that.” Sukuna mutters into the crook of your neck. His breath tickles your neck and you let out a little giggle at his sudden clinginess.

“Me too,” You say but are cut off by a yawn, “but I would like to go to bed soon, I am tired.”

“I don’t think that you are in any position to make demands of me.” He looks at you with a self assured smirk.

You raise and eyebrow, “I own this house and I can never fuck you again if you want to be that way.”

He glares but stands up, his arms around you to keep himself in you. It felt intimate to be this close with him. He is warm and surprisingly gentle with you as you move to your bed.

Sukuna lays down on the bed with you buried in his chest.

“I am staying inside you.” He tells you with no room for argument.

“I have no objections.” You laugh and get comfortable.

It is quiet for a while after that as you two drink each other in. You don’t complain as it gives you time to think about what just happened and what will happen after you finish that book.

“Hey,” You say softly, “do you think that if we don’t finish that book you will not be sent back to hell?”

Sukuna blinks down at you in surprise, which smooths out into a smirk.

“I am sure that will work but are you prepared to keep me around?” He asks you.

“More than prepared- are you ready to deal with me?” You challenge him back.

“Always.”

You stand awkwardly against one of the gallery's white walls with a glass of champagne. People walk around looking at the different historical statues, papers and jewellery. Despite being here as a honoured guest it is still not your regular crowd of people.

This is also a little daunting to be here even after your rise to fame. Even with the pages missing the book and translation got the attention of both the historical and archaeological communities. You were shocked at all the recognition that you got from it.

You had expected a few people to notice and maybe a few to reach out to you about it but not fancy galas and snobby rich people thinking that they can just buy the book off of you.

That is how you have gotten into your current predicament.

“How much would you say this grimoire is worth? I have enough to purchase it and even a little more.” The man says with a slimy grin.

You can’t punch this man in the face, you have to accept an award later. So you need a different way out of this situation-

“Found you.”

A pair of strong hands come to rest on your hips. You look back to see Sukuna just behind you, a glare that could kill is pointed at the man talking to you.

“I was wondering when you would get here!” You exclaim and turn around to wrap your arms around his neck.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek he chuckles, “I got stuck in traffic.”

As if on cue the man talking to you practically sprints away. Sukuna looks completely unimpressed with the man as he makes his speedy exit. You laugh at his expression and tug his head down so he looks at you.

“That pretentious asshole doesn’t matter,” You tell him as he grins at you, “now let’s go get this award so I can get out of these heels.”

“I have no objections to that.” Sukuna drawls and lets you take his hand to pull him through the crowd of people.

Maybe opening that old book wasn’t such a bad idea.

tags: @maryhyun254 @yangtze-06

#I pray I got his personality right #this is my first time writing Sukuna so plz be nice #alternative title- how to summon and fuck a demon for history nerds #blue’s fics <3 #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader

21 notes · View notes

kaitowotd · 1 year ago

Text

Kaito's Friend of the Day: Byakuya Togami

Happy birthday to best danganronpa!!! Sorry the post is so late, I had a really hectic day today

#kaitowotd #kaito #kaito vocaloid #fumo #fumo fumo #fumoposting #word of the day #vocaloid #byakuya togami #togami byakuya #i actually have a very cute byakuya plushie #but he needs to get cleaned up before he can be in pictures #his tie is missing and his glasses came off... man has been outside a little too much #he actually used to travel with me in the itabag before I got my kaito plushies!#he lives a peaceful life at home now :)

15 notes · View notes

seventh-district · 3 months ago

Text

sometimes it’s late at night and you’re cleaning your room and you come across a few old black and white photos of a young girl and you stare at them for a long minute wondering how on earth they got lost in an old Kroger shopping bag with an unopened pack of cigarettes and a receipt dated 2017.

and you look at the girl in the pictures sat on the floor of someone’s home you don’t recognize, smiling and playing with a set of keys and a tiny part of you feels like it recognizes her but you aren’t sure.

and you flip the pictures over hoping to find some sort of annotation that would give you context and all you find is the year 1964 stamped in tiny font along the edge.

and you flip them back over and time stands still as you realize that the recognition you feel is because she looks so much like you once did and next thing you know your hands are sweating and shaking and you have to sit on the floor because you’re crying so hard because it hits you all at once that you’re looking at your mother.

#hey Siri play In Color by Jamey Johnson for me please #music stuff #you should’ve seeeeen it in cooolllloor #Seven.txt #Seven’s Public Diary #normal Sunday night behavior #me? up all night hyperfocused on cleaning out my depression cave to achieve a sense of change and accomplishment -#- and ignoring every other aspect of my life including abandoning time sensitive tasks lest i get distracted and lose all motivation???#more likely than you think!#i’ve been at this since new years and i’m only like. halfway done. Gods help me #like i don’t mean ‘cleaning’ as in doing some light dusting. i mean there’s junk and trash piled 2/3rds of the way to the ceiling #when i call this room my depression/mental illness cave i Mean it #but no longer. i shall finally return this room to an acceptable state for the first time since. uh. 2022? i think?#i found a plastic container of dates buried under some laundry and the sticker says they’re from March of last year lmao #i forgot about those/thought i threw them away. but they were thankfully sealed so well that they hadn’t drawn any bugs #and oddly enough hadn’t even visibly molded/gone bad. but i didn’t open them up for a smell test i just chucked ‘em in my giant trash bag #i’m finding all kinds of shit i forgot i even had which is nice but it’s also distracting me like those pictures did #i’ll have to show them to her and ask her about them tomorrow #and ur probably like ‘u found old pics of a girl that looks like you why didn’t you immediately recognize ur own mom’#and 1. there’s countless pics of countless old relatives around this house that i barely/don’t recognize and never even met #and 2. i’ve barely ever seen any pics of my mom from such a young age so i have no images to reference in my mind #and it just fucked me up bc. i don’t look like her anymore. i only see Him in the mirror. but i Used to look like her. i’m turning into him #and i fucking hate it so much. i don’t like that she looks at me and sees him. great now i feel sick.#anyways thats enough reminiscing i need to get some water and food in me and get back to cleaning. i shan’t rest until i’m satisfied #well. my period + depression combo kinda Did make me rest which is why it’s taken 5 days but still. the horrors persist but so do i #it’s not just for the sense of accomplishment tho. i also need to move the 75gal tank out of the living room thanks to the floor situation #so i’m trying to make room in my room for it since it has the newest & strongest floor. i just need to find a level spot thats big enough #my back is gonna be so fucked after all this cleaning that i’ll have to rest for a fucking week before moving that heavy ass glass box #i hate moving big aquariums it makes me so anxious. and i literally don’t know if i’ll have anyone capable of helping me #so it might not even happen and it’ll just have to sit empty in the living room forever. but Maybe he can/will help me

2 notes · View notes

inbabylontheywept · 1 month ago

Note

How does one contract scurvy from eating too many homemade pickles? And how many is too many?

when i first moved out and started cooking for myself i had a very poor diet. i think @lizardho has a picture of my fridge at one point, it was just various kinds of pickled things, and cured meats.

fast forward after like, three or four months of this, and i was at the dentist, getting my teeth cleaned, when the hygenist went ah, babs, your gums are bleeding. u need to floss more.

and i went i floss like, three times a day, and it always bleeds, and im always gentle, and you are lying bastard gum torturers. u can do what u need to, but dont stab my mouth and blame me when it bleeds.

the hygenist took exception to that. we didn't really shout at each other, but it was a tense exchange and i was just much more crabby than normal. eventually he left to get the dentist to sort things out.

cue the dentist coming back. he checked out my gums, gave me a lookover, then said hey. babs. are your joints kind of achey?

and i went yeah, i'm kind of hoping for another growth spurt, i'm 5'11 and it would be nice to finally hit the ol' 6'

and he went yeah, but you're 21, so that's not gonna happen. got any rashes? weird bruises?

and i had some decent bruises, and a weird rash on my leg, and he looked at them and we yeah you are quite vitamin c deficient. thats not easy to do in arizona. how much fresh fruit or vegetables have you had in your diet recently?

and i went does pickled count?

and that was his lightbulb moment. apparently pickling breaks down the vitamin c in things really well. he told me that i should just like, eat one or two raw bell peppers a day for a week and call him if that worked.

it did. my gums stopped bleeding, and my knees stopped hurting at night and my skin just felt smoother and nicer and i got a lot less crabby. no more mouthing off at dental hygenists.

i called him when the week was done, and i was embarrassed that i'd given myself scurvy like it was still the 18th century, and he said naw, not scurvy, but like. noticable deficiency. he said that it was a weird problem, but he'd run into it before - mostly with college students fresh out of the house. people trying to live off peanut butter and ramen for a few months at a time.

i took a multivitamin after that, but i also made an effort to try and eat like a normal human being. i failed occasionally but the effort made me feel a lot better.

my time in cross country gave me this sort of gnostic-feeling about my body. like it was a weak thing that i needed to overcome through will, and not like. me. at least not actually me. i think this was my first big wake up call that no, the body is not my enemy, i am my body, i am a physical object in this world, and if i don't take care of myself i am going to be worse at everything, including moral tasks, like not being a dick to the dental hygenist.

so. yeah. tldr, please don't spend months trying to live off pickles and salami. :/

8K notes · View notes

webism · 8 months ago

Text

pornstar!satoru who knows there are a million eyes on him, he’s seen his view counts—the whole world has seen his form. He’s cocky, loves knowing just how many people have gotten off to the sight of him.

pornstar!satoru who, despite his infamous confidence, gets nervous when you walk on set and offer him your camera-ready smile. You’re such a pretty thing, the dictionary’s definition of perfect.

pornstar!satoru who can’t help but excuse himself before the shoot, so he can was his face and sate his nerves. Locks himself away in a bathroom just to pull his phone out and google your name—and god does he like what he sees.

pornstar!satoru who is minutes away from having to be balls deep inside of you and can’t help himself from touching himself in the bathroom. scrolling endlessly on his phone, pictures of you in different positions, different little outfits, looking fucking perfect in each one.

pornstar!satoru who cums harder than he has in months, in a porn set bathroom, just to the fantasy of his hand being yours. he feels like a sex-driven teen again, hands clammy as he washes them clean from the receipt of his desperation.

pornstar!satoru who is hard again the second he steps out to find you already naked on the scene bed. your skin looks satin soft against those sheets, eyes soft and lips softer as you watch him stalk over to you. consent checks and camera placement talk goes through one ear and out the other, he can’t get his eyes off you.

pornstar!satoru who forgets he’s a pornstar the moment his hands touch that sweet body of yours. he’s completely fumbling the scene laid out, the scripted dirty talk is forgotten the second his lips open. the only reason cameras aren’t cut is because the filth that leaves his mouth instead is more pornographic than the scene at hand.

pornstar!satoru who presses you down into the mattress in a mean mating press when he’s supposed to have you face down ass up. who would he be to deny himself a long look into those pretty eyes of yours? no way is he losing this opportunity for a paycheck he doesn’t really need.

pornstar!satoru who loses his curated pornstar persona the minute he bottoms out inside of you. his usual moans and groans are replaced with desperate whines of real pleasure. this is sex, he’s a mess of need and want and sweat and god do you look good stuffed full of his cock. he can tell you’re feeling it too, that something else, that electric eroticism that gets lost when you fuck for a living.

pornstar!satoru who can’t stop wondering what you’d look like pinned down in his own bed, away from the harsh light and prying eyes of the production crew. who has such a visceral feeling of dread knowing how many people are going to see you like this, fucked out and cockdrunk by his doing. it’s possession, a need to keep you to himself, sequester you away for his eyes only.

pornstar!satoru who cums ropes way too quickly. he’s usually good at holding his orgasm at bay for long enough to make a porno, but your pussy clenched around his cock was too much, your nails in the corded muscle of his biceps, your lips against his, your body in his fucking vicinity? he can’t help it.

pornstar!satoru who, after filming, invites you back to his for a drink or three, and gets swiftly rejected when you bat your pretty lashes at him and mention your boyfriend waiting for you at home.

pt 2!

#jjk smut #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x you #jjk gojo #pstar satoru #pstarsatoru

14K notes · View notes

reignpage · 6 months ago

Text

College student!Sukuna

18:05pm: locked folder

warnings: 18+ mdni, dubcon, yandere, up-skirting, masturbation, voyeurism, recording, overstimulation

college student!sukuna has a locked folder in his photo gallery. toji had seen it when he borrowed his phone and did not hesitate to blabber to the rest of the group — everyone had placed bets on what was in that mysterious folder. geto and shoko chalked it up to simple self-nudes, gojo thinks its pictures of some disgusting mole on his body, and toji hopes its nudes from girls his best friend had ‘fucked silly’.

of course, he has no plans of ever letting them know, much less see, the contents of the folder. because, unbeknownst to everyone, including especially you, college student!sukuna considers himself somewhat of an artist.

oh yes, college student!sukuna has the vision of a renaissance painter, an appreciator of the finer things in life, a real connoisseur for the shapes and curves of the female body and his favourite, and only, muse? why, none other than yourself, of course.

pervy college student!sukuna has hundreds of pictures of you, his precious friend. a variety of images ranging from blurry, hastily taken up-skirts to carefully angled, romantic shots of your sleeping form. there are videos, too. some innocent: you giggling at your friends’ antics, playfully glaring at the camera, or dancing in the rain when the group had taken an impromptu camping trip.

others, not so.

over the past couple months, college student!sukuna had gotten bolder, feeling empowered by your shy blushes and prolonged eye-contact. he knows you like him, anyone with eyes could see. he also knows he makes you horny, can see it in the way you press your thighs together when he manspreads in front of you, or the way your nipples poke through even the thickest hoodies if he breathes a little too closely by your ear.

whenever he was over at your place, on the nights he tutored you, he would wait for the unmistakeable sound of the shower running and the dull thud of the shower stall closing before sneaking in. he let the steam disguise the crack in the bathroom door where his camera would be focused straight on your supple form.

he hated that he couldn’t see the finer details of your body, couldn’t tell if you were clean-shaven or natural, not even the colour of your nipples. but still, the videos of you humming as you shampooed never fails to get his dick hard.

college student!sukuna has a favourite video. it’s of you in the shower, but instead of getting cleaner, you were intent on being a dirty girl. the shower head in your hand, the powerful jet pummelling your poor clit, the other hand was clutching at a tit like you needed to hold something to steady yourself. it isn’t just the act that makes sukuna harder than he ever has been every time he watches it, nor is it the way your face was scrunched up in focus and eventually in fleeting ecstasy.

no, what makes college student!sukuna cum to the point of overstimulation was what you were moaning as you pinched your nipple and rode the stream, head falling against the tile as you gasped for air.

“‘kuna, just like that, fuck.”

#Sukuna x reader #Sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n

6K notes · View notes

bi-writes · 5 months ago

Text

anatomy of us (2) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 2 (7.2k), AO3 in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1

Tradition is not something you are fond of.

It’s something forced on you. When you question it, it’s offensive–how dare you question these things, made sacred over time? Why would you want to betray thousands of years of history? Time makes it definitive. Your being makes it natural. You submit because that is the natural thing to do, so in that sense, you submit to it all.

That is your duty. That is your calling. When you are claimed, you belong to them. You are property. Autonomy be damned–your place is on your knees, keeping your mouth shut, and any behavior against that is nothing short of a punishable offense, proper. Disobedient omegas make for troublesome households.

To keep you in line, you must be held at a short length from your alpha. It is what is done. It is what is expected.

Tradition.

Simon keeps a hand on you, curled at the base of your spine as he leads you back to where the sleeping quarters are. You know it’s for your protection, but the better part of you wants to smack him off of you whenever you feel his palm press just slightly against you. When you make it back into your room, Simon pauses in the doorway after he opens it for you. He looks nervous almost, sheepish. You turn to face him, looking him up and down. “You can come in if you want. I’m not gonna carry all my stuff by myself, you could probably carry a fucking tank looking at you.”

Simon finally comes inside, ducking his head a little to make it in. You know this room wasn’t meant to house an alpha, but it’s still startling to see him do it, taking up way too much space to be anything but claustrophobic. He watches as you pack your things, stuffing your clothes into your bags and picking up small trinkets around the bedside table and desk. After the bag starts to get heavy, you shove it into his arms as you look towards the bed. It’s a standard issue twin-sized, with barely enough sheets to keep you warm and a lumpy pillow that you hate. You make a face at it before turning around and putting more things into Simon’s arms as you empty the closet.

“Tha’ it?” Simon mutters, still able to peek over the mountain of items that he holds, and you shrug.

“That’s it.”

Simon’s own room is like a hospital room. It’s too clean–there’s nothing personal anywhere, no pictures or barely any clothes other than military issue fatigues. The only civilian clothes he has wouldn’t even make you think twice if you saw him in a bar–Simon will always look like a soldier, through and through, and his room stinks like it. It smells clinical, and nothing about it is cozy or warm. You stand in the middle of the room as Simon puts your things down. You ring your hands together nervously, eyeing the bed with one single, thin sheet on it. It’s too small of a bed for the both of you. It’s too small of a bed just for Simon–you don’t want to think about the kind of sleeping arrangements you’ll need to fit with him on it.

“Wot’s wrong?” Simon asks lowly. You look over your shoulder at him. He’s putting your things into the closet. He’s divided it in half already, and some of your clothes are already hung up next to his. You look back at the bed, pursing your lips.

“There’s not enough blankets,” you say softly. “A-And…And the pillows, here, I don’t like them.”

Simon turns back to your bag, picking up another shirt to hang. You glare at the back of him. It doesn’t do anything; he doesn’t erupt in flames like you might have hoped, but it does give you a moment to notice how well those jeans fit him.

Fuck. Keep it together.

“I’ll get you more blankets,” he shrugs. “And a different pillow.”

The answer is immediate. No fuss. You want to complain, to bite back at him for it, but you don’t know how you would explain your displeasure. You’re looking for a reason to tell your omega that she’s a scheming, hopeless, naïve little shit.

“...I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” Isn’t that what he had said? Isn’t that what he had said when he gripped you by the throat and made you realize that everything you had thought about alphas was true? Hadn’t he already shown you that none of them are redeemable?

Not Kate. Not John. Certainly not Simon–they’re all scheming, terrible fucking people, and you cannot wait until you can sink your teeth into Simon’s jugular and rip it out.

Belonging to, being one’s own, fuck if you care. Simon can claim ownership all he wants, but he’ll never tame you. Your omega might be pulling the strings at the moment, but you’re going through withdrawals, you think. Your medication was your lifeline. It kept you from falling off the tightrope, and you just need to learn how to stay upright without it. You can. When you get it back, when it’s in your hands again, she’ll understand.

She has to understand that only you know what’s good for you.

Simon places the rest of your things on his desk. A couple personal things, like your jewelry and some knickknacks, and then your bag with the rest of your clothes to be folded and put away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. At least before, you could pretend like things were still a little normal. You could pretend that in your own room, you were simply waiting for another assignment, that you were just waiting for Kate to give you a call and move you somewhere new, somewhere safer.

“Am I just supposed to stay here and wait for you?” You ask finally. Simon shuffles around the room. He doesn’t look at you; instead, he takes a seat at a desk way too small for him and spreads a few papers around, frowning when he reads something that he doesn’t like. “Is that…is that my job?”

“Dunno.” Simon takes his phone out of his pocket, and he starts typing. “Don’t really feel like babysittin’.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you tell him. “I…I have combat experience. I was in training before this.”

Simon snorts, still focused on his phone. He shakes his head a little.

“Cute,” he mutters. “Tha’s cute.”

Patronizing shit.

“I bet I can shoot a target ten times better than you,” you spit at him. His fingers hover over the screen for just a moment, irritated, before he goes back to typing. “And I can hold my own. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Simon puts his phone back into his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a deep breath before coming over to stand in front of you. You tip your head back, and he reaches down with a hand to cup under your jaw, holding you there. Just like that–your omega has you. You lean in, just that much. Simon sees it in your eyes, and he sniffs, looking you over.

Maybe he thinks you’re pathetic. In some sense, you agree with him, because what the fuck is wrong with me? You get one look into Simon’s eyes, and something chemical in you fires. You bend, and you relax, and you know if he asked you to open your mouth so he could spit in it, it would take a tremendous amount of effort to tell him no. It angers you and excites you all the same, and the conflicting flashes under your ribs bring tears to your eyes.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself for not being able to say no. You hate yourself for being everything they said you would be. You hate yourself for being nothing like you thought you were.

You’re soft. Sweet. All bark, no bite, a spiteful kitten that deep down, aims to please. The only thing that really baffles you, though, is why you only feel this way with Simon.

Is it because they told you that you were his mate? Is it because he’s done something, that he’s projecting some kind of scent? Has he already unknowingly changed your very makeup so your body knows that you are bound to him? When you look into John’s eyes, you see alpha. You see big, salivating dog, and if you could, you’d rip the hairs of his beard out just to see him in pain.

But Simon–it’s like you can’t move. Every time you look at him, and he looks at you, he holds you there. Just like now, he’s got you, and you feel like he can read everything you’re feeling. He’s being fed your secrets, and you hate him for it, but I can’t look away, please look away, please don’t make me–

“Need to get you somethin’ to eat,” Simon says finally. “And it’s time to meet the rest of the lot.”

Simon is starting to get used to keeping a hand on you. It annoys you a little, to feel his hand at your back, but the annoyance dissolves when you realize this base is filled with sneering alphas. They holler and yell, and they are very large and angry, but they still are small compared to Simon. They quiet whenever they walk past you, and even the whiff of omega doesn’t deter them with Simon behind you.

In the mess hall, you see Captain Price sitting at a table with two others. When you get closer to the table, you cough a little, stumbling back, and Simon catches you around the waist to hold you upright. The stench of alphas hits you like a truck, and Simon grunts as he tells you relax, fuckin’ hell.

You give him a hard stare–how the fuck would he know? There’s four alphas in your close vicinity, and they’re all puffing their chests and smiling, and it stings to smell them all at once. You turn your head a little to shield yourself, and when you filter everything else out but Simon, it frustrates you a little how much of him seems to calm you down.

Smells so good. Get closer. Press your nose to it, I-I want more–

“I see you two are getting along nicely,” John comments, leaning back in his chair. You roll your eyes a little, and when you lock eyes with him, you purse your lips and try to look anything but pleased. Simon guides you to sit down; he motions to the bench, just to the left of where someone else is already sitting–a big, burly soldier with crazy blue eyes. He has a terrible haircut, short along the sides with tufts of curls falling down the middle and over his forehead. He’s wiggling his eyebrows at his lieutenant behind you. Across from him, there’s another alpha with dark eyes and soft skin, and he’s smiling like an idiot around the rim of his plastic cup. You’re a little nervous–you had spent most of your time on your old base surrounded by betas who barely gave you a glance, and now you’re off your meds and being hit with a million different sensations everywhere you go. Simon’s touch on your back eases your shoulders a little.

“Tha’s Johnny,” Simon points to the one next to you. “Tha’s Gaz. ‘n I’m sure ya had the pleasure of our Captain.”

“Yeah, looks like your beard is still in tact, so glad to see it,” you say curtly, crossing your arms over your chest. The two sergeants laugh, ducking their heads, and John raises a brow before looking at Simon with a clenched jaw. Simon just shrugs, stretching his arm out on the back of your chair, and you get the feeling this happens often–John giving Simon that look, and Simon merely brushing it off. You smile to yourself a little, looking at Simon from over your shoulder. When you meet eyes, he stares back, looking over your face. He lingers on your lips for just a second too long before looking back up again.

I bet he tastes good under that mask. Let’s find out.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you blink. Your omega has never been inside of your head like this. You nearly opened your mouth and asked him for it, asked him please, please–let me taste, I won’t look, just let me taste you. You swallow her down a little, and you just nod to keep yourself moving. Simon stands up to make his way towards where the food is, and you watch curiously as instead of standing in line, he pushes open a door into the kitchen and disappears behind it.

“LT’s been gettin’ ye special meals,” Johnny says with a full mouth. You frown a little, and not just cause he’s chewing with his mouth a little too open.

“What do you mean?”

“He has the cooks make you somethin’ special,” Gaz says as he takes a sip of water. He leans back, smiling again, and it irks you a little. Alphas are brutes, disgusting big things with too many hormones, and you hate that this one gets to be pretty, too. Not that John or his sergeant aren’t attractive, but this one definitely enjoys a good mirror selfie, and it shows. “Something not on the menu. He didn’t like that you weren’t eating much, at the beginning. Made a fuss, and now he gets you better food.”

“He can do that?”

“Well, would ye say no to tha’ big man?” Johnny snorts, dipping his crusty bread in sauce. You look back towards the door, and Simon comes out holding a tray. He sets it down in front of you, and you bite your lip looking down at it. It smells so good, and you pick up your fork gently, sticking it into the pasta and twirling it. When you take a bite and sigh, Simon takes a seat next to you, and you can barely hear the sweet rumble in his chest of satisfaction.

Providing for you. Taking care of you. He’s so capable, isn’t he? Look at what he does for you.

If Simon notices you scoot closer to him, he doesn’t say anything. You don’t react either–it wasn’t a conscious choice.

Simon’s shower has hot water. Not that the showers you’d had were cold, but the communal showers were just that–communal. Shared, and although your escort always made sure you were the only one in there while you showered, it was still feeding off a water heater that always had barely any juice left. Lukewarm showers, so you tried to finish quick.

Simon’s shower turns the water scalding. You giggle with relief when you stand under it, letting it loosen your sore muscles and relieve your aching bones. It feels good, and you take a little longer in there, taking your time and enjoying the heat.

When it’s time to wash your body, you realize you’re missing your own soap. You look around for something else, noticing the unlabeled bottle that rests on a ledge. You squirt a pump of it into your palms, and when you raise it to your nose, your eyes flutter shut.

It’s the eucalyptus you smelled on Simon. A little plastic aftersmell, which you know is from whatever backwater dollar store the military buys it from, but on Simon, it smells so good. You lather it in your hands and hold it up to your nose, and you sigh deeply.

He’s just outside. Why don’t you call for him? I bet he’s listening. I bet he’s waiting for us.

You slide your hands down your arms. With the heat of the water, the whole bathroom starts to smell like it, and you let your hands slide down further, over your waist, between your thighs. When your fingers touch your puffy clit, you’re nearly jolted back into reality.

“Fuck–” You gasp, reaching for the level, shutting the water off. The last of the water curls down the drain, and you cough as you look around. You curl your toes, grounding yourself, and then you get out of the shower and reach for the towel. When you look into the mirror, your pupils are blown wide, and you feel like you don’t recognize yourself. You drop the towel and dress yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied with menial tasks.

Get your shit together.

When you open the bathroom door, Simon is back from his little errand he had run. He’s carrying a few blankets and a thick comforter, and there’s a few new pillows on the bed with it. You use the towel to keep drying the wet strands of your hair, and Simon turns around when he hears you walk in further.

You pass by him wordlessly as you reach the bed. You put your hands on the blankets that he put down, and you close your eyes when you feel how soft they are. Threaded cotton and fleece, lots of thick feathers in the comforter to make it nice and fluffy. When you turn to look over your shoulder, Simon does a terrible job of pretending like he wasn’t just staring at your ass in the little sleep shorts you’re wearing. You want to snap at him, but your omega pinches your tongue.

Take them off. Take them off. Take them off.

“So, what…” You clear your throat. “How are we supposed to sleep in that bed? T-Together?”

Simon tilts his head to the side. You start to despise the mask. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, not even a little, and after the rather joyous conversations you’ve had with Simon (barf), you can’t say you’re entirely excited to be in this close of a space with him.

“Don’t worry,” Simon murmurs. “I’ll be good.”

Oh, that totally makes you feel better.

Prick.

He makes you get into bed and turn facing the wall as he turns out the lights. He pulls at the edge of his mask uncomfortably, and you realize he doesn’t want you to see his fine. Fine, you think to yourself, throwing the sheets back with a huff, bet you’re fucking ugly mug would blind me anyways.

You cuddle under all the blankets, snuggling into the new pillow that sinks under your head. You hum gently, closing your eyes, and you aren’t able to see Simon rubbing his chest warmly as he watches you. He sucks on his teeth, not truly understanding what he feels, but knowing that it’s soothing the beast in him to take care of you.

It rattles him. Simon isn’t used to this. He’s not used to feeling like he doesn’t have control. He resisted this for so long. He tried so hard to fight, he said no to Kate over and over and over again.

Omegas to Simon were liabilities. To care was to have a target on your back. To be mated meant having something to lose.

Ask Price, is what he told her, ask the fuckin’ sergeants, anyone but me, but she wouldn’t hear it. It had to be him, it had to be, and then she locked him into a room with her, and she leveled with him.

She told him that you are special. That you are precious. That omegas like you don’t exist, that you are one in a single generation, and there isn’t anyone else in the world that will do except for him.

Price, married to the field. The sergeants, immature and might as well be titled barracks bunnies. But Simon–purebred, quiet, controlled. Terrified of himself and what he is. His unofficial pack that he defends with his entire being, that is the only alpha worth giving to you.

Kate had thought about it before. What it might be like to push the hair away from your neck and sink her teeth there. As easy as putting her signature to paper, she could have the CIA running laps to keep you protected, but she knew that wasn’t the life for her. It couldn’t be.

In every situation, Kate would have to choose that lesser evil, and in her world, it would mean her choice would unlikely be you.

Simon? Simon answered to no one. Unlike his sergeants, he cared little for authority; he wouldn’t blink twice saying no to his superior. Unlike his Captain, Simon didn’t mind choosing the bloody way out. He was the first with his finger on the trigger, and the last to sweep a room. Kate knew–if Simon had to choose between the greater good and the omega he claimed?

Fuck the greater good. That, she could count on.

If Kate only asked for one thing, it would be this. She did promise you. She promised she would keep you away from it all. She promised that she would make things right. She promised that she would protect you, but even Kate answers to others, and the reality of this kind of world is that the only way to really protect you was to give you away.

To put you into the same world that you had only begged to be kept away from.

Nobody likes playing matchmaker, but maybe putting together the most stubborn and angry people in the world might save you from yourselves. At least she hoped so.

You’re nearly asleep when you feel Simon come to bed. All the lights are off, and it’s pitch black in the room. There’s some shuffling around the room, and then you feel the blankets move. All of the sudden, a heat stronger than you’ve ever felt takes up the entire bed. Pressed against your back, a solid chest, and then a huge arm falls over your waist.

“We cuddling now?” You mumble sleepily, and Simon breathes out slowly, not responding. When you fall asleep, it’s unnervingly easy. Your omega purrs, digging her nails into you, and when you turn your head in the dark and feel the brush of his unmasked face against yours, she preens.

He’s right there–just a little taste. Just a little. Please, please, please–

Omegas cannot claim, but they can bite. It takes everything inside of you not to sink your teeth into him.

“You smell that? Smells like fuckin’ sweets, mates.”

You take off your headphones and safety glasses, looking over your shoulder. There’s a few recruits a few lanes down from you, wiggling their eyebrows and licking their lips. One of them crudely grabs his crotch, winking at you. You make a face.

Gross.

“Let me see you, baby. Smell so good.”

You holster the gun you’re holding, leaning against the counter with your hip. You raise a brow, tilting your head to the side.

“Are you done?” You ask, and they take that as their cue to start walking closer. An invitation.

They don’t get very far. You smell him before you see him. On instinct, your shoulders relax with that whiff of charcoal. You push off the counter just in time for him to come up behind you, and you feel the heat of his chest as it presses against your back. The recruits in front of you stop immediately, and you feel a disgusting sense of satisfaction when Simon bends over your shoulder to look at you.

“‘n wot’s this?” Simon growls. You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know. They wanna have a dick-measuring contest, but I think they’re afraid they’re gonna lose,” you say. You let out an annoyed sigh, turning again to put your safety glasses on. You put the headphones back over your ears and take the gun out of your holster, turning the safety off as you line it up with the paper targets near the back of the course. “You know. Cause my dick is way bigger.”

You unload the clip just for fun. You’re supposed to be practicing on accuracy, which for you meant slower, spaced-out shots to try and hit the same spot over and over, but the sound of the gun going off again and again helps distract you from the laughing, untrained dogs that are littered across the shooting range.

When you put the gun down after emptying the magazine, Simon is salivating. The paper target head is obliterated, each bullet almost next to its last. When you turn around, Simon tilts his head to the side. You holster the gun, starting to walk, and Simon lets his eyes drop to the sway of your hips as you pass by him. It’s not a conscious decision, the way his fingers curl into fists and squeeze hard.

“Told you,” you say to him. “Huge dick, right, baby?”

Something flares in Simon’s chest when he hears it. Like a switch, his legs start moving, following you, and when he passes by a recruit that is standing much too close to you, Simon shoves the recruit back so hard, they smack their nose against the wall and curses from the impact, blood dripping under their bruised nose.

The rest of the day, you don’t see another rookie walk even five feet into your vicinity. Even without a mark on your neck, you are claimed, and right before you leave your room for dinner, Simon is fitting a dark hoodie over your head. The smell overwhelms you. It’s soaked in his scent, and you turn to face him, looking at him suspiciously. Your omega keeps you from questioning him. She wants you to start walking, because she knows he’ll touch you when you do.

It’s that night that Simon asks John for you to join them. All Simon does is slide the shredded paper target across his desk. John picks it up, tacking it onto the wall. He chuckles, shaking his head. It’s an impressive piece of paper, but being a good shot isn’t the only reason someone is cleared to work with them. Even besides that, it’s forbidden.

“Omegas aren’t allowed in the field, Simon,” John reminds him. “You know that.”

“Think tha’s why we should take her,” Simon mutters. “She’s a distraction. A good one.”

“A weapon,” John frowns. He can already hear Kate screaming into his ear if she ever saw you geared up between them on an op.

“A tool.”

“And what does she think of that, eh?” John slips his hat off, tossing it onto his desk. He sighs, running a hand over his beard, and he shakes his head. “And Kate…Kate would hang my fuckin’ head.”

“Not Kate’s responsibility anymore, she’s mine,” Simon bites back. He knows it’s wrong. In all honesty, the sentiment tasted bad from the moment he said it to you, but it is easier to let you believe that he’s using you then try and make you understand him. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t get his reasons, and that’s fine, so if he has to be the bad guy, so be it.

The least he could do is make himself useful. Put your skills to work, poke your mind. See what you can really do.

“Don’t let your girl hear you talkin’ like that, Simon,” John says lowly. “Not her, and certainly not Kate.”

“But you agree,” Simon continues, chuckling lowly. “I speak for her. ‘n I think she’d be right in on it, Captain. Wot else is she to do, eh? Sit in my fuckin’ quarters and wait f’me? Wot kind of life is tha’? She needs this. She’s good. I can teach ‘er. She’ll learn. Well and good she will, I know it.”

John sniffs, running a big hand over his short hair before tapping a pen over the target paper on the wall.

“I need her OK,” John relents finally. “I need to hear it from her. I get that, I’m alright with it. But she has to know what she’s getting into, Simon. And no one but you is responsible for her. If she gets into something, I’m not gonna risk Soap or Gaz for it–”

“I know,” Simon mutters. “She’ll be my shadow. I’ll teach ‘er.”

She’ll be good. She’ll be good because she’s mine.

“Bravo-7, sitrep.”

“Eyes on target. Waiting on confirmation.” Simon looks over his shoulder for a moment, where you’re sitting as his cover. You look cute, he thinks. All geared up. He lets his eyes sweep over the cargo pants that are cinched around your waist. Your nice curves. Thick thighs. Fuck, you smell good, even with all the sand up his nose and the smoke clinging to his mask. You have your rifle tucked into your elbow, and you’ve got it aimed towards the door of the roof.

“Is it always so fucking hot?” You ask, running your wrist over your lip. You’re sweating; you can feel it dripping down the back of your neck and along your back. You’re wearing a lot of gear, but you’ve done this before, and you don’t remember it being so uncomfortable. It must be the climate–you’re not used to this kind of desert, and you need to get it together.

Despite the irritation you feel every time you look at Simon, your omega wants to please him. She wants to show him she can do this, that she’s capable, and you’re starting to not like that she’s behaving as if you and her are one and the same.

I’m in control. Shut the fuck up. Let me focus.

“Just watch the door,” Simon mutters, turning back to focus. He adjusts the scope of his rifle, taking a deep breath as he leans into the stock. He gets his target into his line of sight, and he narrows his eye a little more to watch the group more closely on the ground. It’s hard to ignore you. Normally, the person covering him goes almost unnoticed. Their scent never affects him, not enough to make him look away from his scope, but there’s something in the air way too close to him, and he scrunches his nose a little as he adjusts his position on the ground. “You stink, by the way.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. “Not my fault.”

“Certainly is y’r fault.”

“You reek, too, you ass,” you mumble, wiping your forehead again. You adjust how you’re sitting, clearing your throat. It’s scratchy, and you’re starting to itch a little all over, too. “Like wet dog.”

Simon smiles under his mask. He keeps his index finger next to the trigger, and you keep yours on it.

“How much longer do we have to do this? I mean…I thought you were SAS. Don’t you guys…get your hands real dirty? I mean, don’t you go tearing doors down? Get a lot of action? I mean, we’re just sitting ducks on a roof here right now.”

“Wot, you wanna go kick some doors down now?” Simon asks. He shakes his head. “The real job is boring. We do things nice and clean, we only get dirty when we ‘ave to. If I can get a target from 1000 yards away, then tha’s wot I’ll do. Besides. This is wot I’m good at.”

“Yeah, you look real good there on your knees, honey.”

Simon blinks hard when something strong hits his nose. It stings, makes his eyes water. He coughs a little, dropping his head for a moment.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Simon hisses. “Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper. You take your hand off your rifle for a moment to adjust the collar of your shirt, but it doesn’t help. You shift a little, loosening your tactical vest. You want to take it off, but you know that’s a bad idea out here. It’s hard to think clearly, though, when your brain is cloudy and you’re starting to see things in double every so often. “It’s…it’s too hot.”

Simon huffs, “‘n when was the last time you had a heat?”

“I’ve…I’ve never.” You clear your throat. “I’ve never had one.”

Can you smell him? I can smell him. He smells so good.

Simon nearly leaves his post. He grips his rifle tight, gloved hands squeezing the metal, and he turns to look at you incredulously.

“Fuckin’ repeat tha’?”

“I know you’re blind and dumb, but don’t tell me you’re fucking deaf, too,” you mumble. You swallow, wiping your face again, and Simon presses on the radio on his shoulder.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, how long do we got?”

“Just observation on target for now. Why?”

“Need 10 minutes.”

Simon shuts off the radio. You blink, starting to see double pretty consistently now, and you take a shaky breath as you grip your rifle a little tighter. You hear shuffling behind you, and you look back to see Simon moving from his position.

“What are you doing? Simon–”

“Get over ‘ere.” Simon sets his rifle down. “Tha’ wasn’t a fuckin’ suggestion, tha’ was an order!”

There’s something different in his voice at the end. Something more animal that lilts his drawl, and it makes you coherent enough to start moving–like his voice made all the fog clear up for just a few moments, long enough for you to realize you need him.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You put your rifle down, crawling over to him, and just as you stumble, Simon catches you. You put your hands on his shoulders, falling into his lap, and he hoists you up until you’re straddling him. You feel him starting to tug on your cargos, and even in your daze, you squeeze his shoulders.

“S-Simon? What are you…What are you doing?”

“Y’r gonna go into heat soon,” Simon mutters. Alarm bells go off in your head, and you dig your nails into his shoulders. He can see it clearly–the panic on your face.

“H-Heat? R-Right now?”

“Not right now,” Simon clicks his tongue. “More like a…pre-heat. Get y’r bloody pants off–”

When Simon tugs your cargos down enough, you gasp when you see the mess your panties are in. They’re soaked, drenched until the cotton is a darker color, sticking to your cunt, and you whimper as Simon tugs you back into his lap with your pants around your ankles. It’s awkward and messy, and you’re sweating bullets, hot and bothered, and your chest feels tight. There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing sweet about the way Simon turns you in his lap. It’s hurried, but you’re just as desperate, clawing to whatever piece of him you can touch and trying to sink into him. If you could, you’d pry him open and force yourself to tuck yourself inside of him. You want to live there forever. You want to be in his skin, soaking it all in–you want it. You want this, don’t you?

He’s touching us! He’s touching us! Let him in!

“W-What’s happening t-to me?”

“‘s olright,” Simon whispers in your ear. “I’ve got ya. There we are…” He cups your pussy, making you squirm. You jolt in his lap, throwing your head back against his shoulder, and he hums as you sink into his touch. Something inside you curls and lights on fire. Your vision blurs, and his scent surrounds you. “Oh…fuck…tha’ wot ya needed, swee’eart? Yeah…”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Simon–” Your back arches, and you push your hips into his hand. When he touches your clit, your omega seizes inside your head, and it’s a feeling like you’ve never felt before.

She takes the reigns; and God, does she fucking pull.

You palm at the zipper of his pants. There’s something there, something you want–and you need it. There’s something in your chest that blinds you, that familiar voice in your head that chants–take it out, take it out, take it out.

“‘m workin’ on it, love,” you hear from behind, and you realize you’re talking. You’re out of your body, you think. You’re not yourself. When you feel him in your daze, big and throbbing under your hand, you whine. It comes from deep within your chest, a bubble of nonsense, and Simon coos. He drags your hips closer, and his cock slips under you, between your folds, and you use your palm to keep him pressed to you. You can’t see him, but you felt him when you first met him, and you’re feeling him now.

If there was any doubt that he was anything but an alpha, that thought disappears when his fat tip kisses your clit. He’s hot and throbbing under your hand, and he is more than enough to appease the voice in your head that’s screaming for some kind of inherent relief that it knows he can give.

“Simon, I need it–I need it–”

“I know, love.”

Fuck, Simon would win any dick-measuring contest, you think. Barely the tip of him, and you’re baring your teeth, gripping his thighs and digging your nails into him as you try and breathe through the stretch. He’s not even fully hard yet; the blood is rushing to his cock, and you moan and cry as he sits you down further and further and further–

“What the fuck–what is it you have in your fucking pants, a-a fucking pipe–?!”

“Y’r so much prettier when y’r mouth ain’t runnin’,” Simon mutters. “Ahh–fuck–’s mine, oll mine–”

You put your hands on his knees and throw it back. You’re feral, brain foggy, and all you can think about is getting yourself off. Your body clings to Simon like a thick, curling vice, pussy clamping around him and taking him to the root. You’re dripping down your thighs, wetting his cargos, and you’re thankful that he’s wearing black, otherwise you can’t think about the mess you’d really be leaving on him. The sounds are lewd. Frantic smack, smack, smack against his thick thighs, and the sound is only making you drool for more. He’s so big. He’s hitting you deep, and you swear your insides have never been stretched this far, but it’s like your body is molding itself to fit him. Like you’re making room for him.

It’s so good. It feels right. Your omega growls like an animal, crying with relief. It’s the only thing she’s ever wanted, and she has it in her hands, and she licks at your scent gland until it practically vibrates. Simon’s face is pressed to it, like he can hear her calling. His mask is the only thing separating you, but you can feel his teeth straining against the fabric. They cut over the gland, wet like his tongue is poking against it, too, and your omega screams.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

“Not yet,” Simon grunts. “Won’t take.”

“You’ll make it take.”

He laughs, and then he punches the air out of you with a nice thrust. Then he’s on you. Suddenly, you’re on your knees, your tummy against the sandy rooftop, with a stallion of a soldier on top of you, taking you like his last meal.

He sounds like more bear than man. Growling, spitting, both hands on either side of your head as he fucks you into the floor. There’s a smile on your face, soft relief that leaves you in your pretty moans and gurgled pleas. It feels so good. The tip of his cock curves and hits against the same place each time, sending pulses that rack your body over and over and over again. Your thighs are shaking, and then Simon slips one hand under you and cups your pussy, fitting it just right until you can grind down on his palm in perfect timing with the way the fat tip of him hits you just well enough. It should hurt. You’ve never taken anything so big–of course you’ve practiced, but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.

This is still practice. You’re not in your heat, not really, and Simon hasn’t lost his fucking mind yet.

Like a fiend, you chase it. The stars, the mountain to climb, the beautiful end. You get up a little more onto your knees and you wrap a hand around his neck, force him against your jaw. You goad him on with pretty words, soft moans–that’s it, right there, please.

It’s not his first time. It’s not his first time relieving an itch he can’t scratch, and it’s not his first time taking an omega by the neck and pounding into her until she can’t speak, but it’s the first time his resolve shatters.

He wants to bite. He’s never felt the urge to bite. If it wasn’t for the mask, his teeth would be an inch deep in your neck, and he’d be memorizing what your blood tasted like for the first time. Your scent is just that much off that he knows it isn’t the right time, but fuck–the need is there. It’s clear.

Special. One of a kind. No one like her. Soft. Sweet. Mine.

His knot swells a little, but it doesn’t lock. You’re not in a proper heat, so it’s not right just yet, but you can feel the edge of it, like the preface to a glorious poem. Thick and spongy, hot, and when he comes, your eyes roll back in your head. It feels like being thirsty for days on end and finally getting that sweet drink of crystal clear water. He pumps you full, creamy and thick and dribbling between your thighs as you squeeze them together. Subconsciously, you’re trying to keep it inside, and Simon groans when as he latches his mouth over your scent gland under the mask and sucks–so hard, it pinches you just right.

The stars align. The tide wanes. You mumble softly, dopey smile on your face, and when your own high hits you, and you’re squirting into his hand, you let his rumbling, low voice pull you back to earth.

“I ‘ave ya, swee’eart,” he says. “Shhh…easy, kitty…Shh…yeah, easy.”

You sigh with relief. Simon handles you with ease. He picks you up, gets you to sit back on your heels. You don’t see it, but Simon fits his wet fingers under the mask, and you keen when you hear him suck on his fingers and hum.

He likes us. Hear that? He likes us.

“Want you to eat me,” you giggle suddenly, and Simon wipes you down, picking your pants back up and zipping them. He pats your ass gently, smoothing a hand over the back of your neck. He knows you’re still in a different headspace. He knows there’s still something else drawing your breath, but he’s trying not to think about it too much. It sounds so much like you.

“Do plenty o’tha’ when we’re in the thick o’it, kitty.”

Back in the humvee, Johnny is smiling like an idiot. He’s sitting next to Kyle, hitting him with his elbow as he wiggles his eyebrows at you and Simon sitting across from them. You tilt your head to the side, glaring.

“What?” You snap, and Johnny cackles. His eyes are flashing, and he reeks like happiness.

“Smells like ye had fun.”

“My gun is loaded, shithead,” you warn him. “And I know how the fucking safety works.”

When Johnny moves to sit in the front near your captain, you try not to think about the sudden warmth over your knee, and the squeeze of Simon’s hand on you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon

4K notes · View notes

whateveriwant · 10 months ago

Text

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

#ok now i'm done :)#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2

8K notes · View notes

ceilidho · 5 months ago

Text

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 1 | masterlist

“I’m not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,” he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve got a busy schedule and his mom isn’t in the picture. I need a real commitment.”

You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is you’re doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; you’re somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position.

Yet, it seems like that’s what he’s looking for, based on the information he’s told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a mess—toys strewn across the baby’s bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that it’s become something of a requiem to single fatherhood.

“So, a nanny?” you ask.

He hems and haws over that for a bit. “Bit too fancy for my tastes, but that’s more like it. It won’t just be watching the baby—I need someone who can help out around the house as well. ‘Used to run a tight ship before him, but cleaning’s not been my highest priority these days. Sure you’ve picked up on that.” He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache.

“Well…” You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish.

“I work odd hours, so I’ll be gone a lot; you’ll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think that’s something you can handle?”

A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. It’s not that you don’t think you could handle the job. You’ve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income.

“You’re military, you said?” you croak out instead.

He nods, hums. “Bit of a glorified desk job these days. They don’t put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.”

You frown at that. “You’re not that old.”

That gets him to cock an eyebrow. “Love, I’m over twice your age, easy. I’m plenty old for a first time father on top of that; should’ve already been an old hand at this, but I’ve been married to the job for too long.”

You don’t ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. It’s none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. It’s just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air.

“Well, I think—” You chew on your words and then backtrack. “—I can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I can—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and I’ll go over my schedule this week with you.”

The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. You’d put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, you’re still forced to look up at him.

“Sure can, Mister…—?” You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that he’s about to become your boss. Already is your boss.

“Price. But John works just fine,” he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic.

You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt.

“Well, thanks for the job, John,” you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

His words seem like a bellwether for something that you can’t yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you.

You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.

Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance.

You don’t know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad’s coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.

“Did you hear the Captain’s looking for a babysitter?”

“For what? To bang?”

“No, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.”

“No kidding. The Captain?”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ say that?”

“Price, you mean? Captain Price?”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Yeah—Price.”

“Christ. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.”

“Give it a rest, it happens all the time. That’s why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone that’d be up for it?”

And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities don’t knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. It’s more than you expected. More than you deserve, if you’re being honest. You’re retroactively grateful that he didn’t ask you to name your rate because you wouldn’t have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.

It’s a straightforward gig. John doesn’t work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. He’s only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job.

You know better than to put up a fuss. You’re already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. You’re learning all sorts of things these days.

To your credit, he could’ve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. It’s a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before you’ve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but it’s worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.

Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysitting—or rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not have—might not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so you’ll be ready bright and early the next morning.

Babies also smell better than anything you’ve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guy’s head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When he’s cradled in your arms, you can’t help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. It’s some good shit.

You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John might’ve otherwise missed.

“He started babbling today,” you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You haven’t felt this excited in ages. “Look.”

He’s still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him.

“See?” you gush, mooning over him. You don’t have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment.

“Yeah,” John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. “Ain’t that something.”

If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you don’t pick up on it.

On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, he’s remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesn’t nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesn’t scold you the day your car breaks down and you’re forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that he’s invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.

He shrugs when you bring it up. “It’s got a lifetime warranty anyway. I’ll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.”

Unflappable. That’s the word for it. It’s like as long as he’s able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone.

Your only qualm—and it’s hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observation—is that John is more of a physical person than you are.

When he wants to move you, he does—two big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you.

You don’t hold it against him though. You haven’t spent much time around groups of men, but you’ve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, he’s gentle with you.

It’s just that—and again, John’s the first adult man you’ve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopic—you’re not completely sure whether it’s appropriate for your boss to be so touchy.

You don’t mean to insinuate that he’s being inappropriate. It’s just that—and again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and he’s done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, but…—sometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesn’t take no for an answer.

You’re never in any rush to leave. There’s not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. It’s nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what it’s like to go hungry.

Maybe that’s why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. You’re subconsciously mortified that you’ll eat his food when he’s not gone but not when he offers it to you.

At least dinner feels like something you’ve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking.

Not to mention you’ve developed something of a rapport. There’s always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (“back when you weren’t even a thought in your mum’s head,” he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations).

The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, they’re the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, you’re estranged from your family and you’ve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too.

Then there’s the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.

“Go put something on,” John tells you, a warning look in his eye. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” you whisper before slipping off into the living room.

You can’t relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadn’t even heard him coming; he’s light on his feet for such a big man.

The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that you’re afraid you’ll buzz right out of your skin.

For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.

Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap.

Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs until—

You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind.

“Sleep well?” John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before you’ve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams.

“Not bad,” you squeak.

You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.

As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #price/reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john price/reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you

4K notes · View notes

alienzil · 9 months ago

Text

Nanny Danny

“That is a whole ass baby,” was the only thought running through Lex Luthor’s head when the scientist proudly showed him the tube containing Project KR. It was not remotely the sort of thing he would normally think and most definitely not what he had expected to be thinking the first time he saw the clone.

He’d been pleased when he’d read the reports indicating the success of KR after years of failures. Lex had poured millions of dollars and literally his own blood into ensuring a clone of the alien could be made, one that would be under his total control instead of the unknown aspirations of Superman. He’d wanted to see the fruits of his labors personally but this…

It. No, not an it. He scrunched his tiny face and smacked his lips and…did he smirk? Was that HIS SMIRK on that baby’s face?! No. No. Babies this small didn’t smile or smirk. They passed gas and their sleep deprived and addled parents mistook it for an intelligent response. He’d heard enough inane conversations in the Lexcorp office about the various progeny of his employees to pick up on that but still. This child had Kryptonian DNA, not to mention his own contribution. Surely, he was far more advanced than the dribbling potato shaped lump of an infant whose pictures he’d been forced to smile and nod over when Mark from accounting had rudely shoved them in his face at the last quarterly budget meeting. Yes, that was definitely a smirk. His, that was his smirk.

“So as you can see its growth is well within expected parameters and we’re planning to start phase one of accelerating the maturation process tomorrow once the testing is do-”

“Take him out.”

“Sir? The testing can all be accomplished while it remains in the tube. There’s no need to-”

“I said, take him out. The project is cancelled.”

“What?! Mr. Luthor you can’t!”

“I think you’ll find I can. Now get me my son.”

*****

Two years later

“Call them again”

“Sir, I’ve called them seven times. They won’t answer.”

“Then call another agency!”

“There isn’t another agency, Sir”

Lex glared at his assistant who stared back at him impassively. Mercy stood by the door staring off into the distance and pretending she didn’t notice him being bested by his own secretary.

He stopped himself from shouting again and took a deep breath before asking, “Then what, exactly, do you propose I do Mrs. Anderson? Adjust my entire schedule around naptimes? Find a toddler size lab coat and safety goggles and bring my son with me to tour the new clean energy project on Thursday? Perhaps buy a tiny business suit while I’m at it for the next board meeting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything of the sort, Mr. Luthor. I’m telling you that no childcare agency in Metropolis will return my calls anymore. Most won’t even answer. You’ve gone through 27 nannies in the last 3 months. You need someone better suited to your son’s…special needs.”

Lex snorted. “Special needs might be a bit of understatement. He can lift a car over his head and his favorite word right now is No.”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Thank you for…clarifying the situation, Marjorie. If there’s nothing else, you can leave.”

His secretary didn’t move. She looked at him like she was waiting for something and now that he was paying attention, he saw she was holding a file. “Did you have a suggestion?”

Looking pleased with herself she responded, “Actually, yes, I did.”

“Well?”

She set the file on his desk and flipped it open. He looked down at the first page and raised an eyebrow, “What am I looking at here?”

“This,” she responded pulling out the top set of papers and spreading them out, “is the employee file and background check for Daniel J. Fenton, an intern that started in our engineering department about 4 months ago. He has one sibling, two parents and several close friends he regularly meets with. His current supervisor has nothing but good things to say about him and reports he gets along well with all his coworkers.”

She set out the next set of papers, neatly arranging them on the desk to be easily seen. “These are newspaper articles and screenshots of social media posts regarding a small town vigilante locally known as Phantom. The same small town, Mr. Fenton is from coincidentally. Also coincidentally, Phantom made his first appearance only a few weeks after Mr. Fenton was involved in a minor accident in his parent’s home laboratory when he was 14, the medical records for the incident are included.”

“Hmm,” Lex said observing several photos of Phantom and a younger Fenton arranged in order of similar poses and facial expressions and printed out side by side.

“Finally,” she said handing him the last set of papers directly, “this would be a report from the lab Mr. Fenton works in from an incident that happened yesterday. A test with a new protype went wrong and started a fire. Everyone evacuated per protocol when the alarms went off but one of the other interns was working on a programming issue off to the side of the lab while wearing headphones and didn’t hear the alarm or notice the fire. Mr. Fenton noticed his absence and returned to the lab to get him out.” She stopped talking and let him look at the last several pages in the file, a series of photographs of the lab.

“Is this ice?”

“Yes, it is. It’s several inches thick and covers half of the lab. It completely put out the fire leaving minimal damage.”

“This machine was moved?”

“It was. It was very close to the flames and would have required replacement if exposed to extreme heat or cold. That particular piece of equipment also weighs several thousand pounds and was bolted to the floor.”

Lex read through everything in detail then clasped his hands under his chin and stared at the photo of Daniel Fenton for several moments before turning back to his waiting secretary.

“Have HR send Mr. Fenton up. I’d like to offer him a promotion.”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #Lex Luthor saw baby Kon and said that's my baby #Good Dad Lex Luthor #He mostly stopped with the evil to be a good dad #He still does some villainous things sometimes #as a treat #it's enrichment in his enclosure #danny gets hired as a nanny #because Lex can't keep up with a super powered toddler #nanny danny au

5K notes · View notes

d1stalker · 8 months ago

Text

A Peaceful Repose [Logan Howlett]

Summary: After some time away on a mission, Logan comes home, and all he wants to do is be around you

Warnings: clingy logan, showering together, sooo much fluff WC: 1.6k - MASTERLIST

----

The door of your apartment slowly creaks open, followed by the sound of a familiar, heavy tread against the wooden floor. Your heart skips a beat, in both relief and excitement—Logan’s back.

But as he steps into the room, the sight of him makes you pause. He looks every bit as exhausted as you imagined, but it’s more than that. His clothes are torn and stained with dirt and dried blood, and a faint, musty smell of sweat and grime clings to him. His normally fierce gaze is dulled with fatigue, and the well-kept scruff on his face has grown wilder, more unkempt.

Your nose wrinkles slightly as you take in the full picture. “Logan…” you start, hesitating as he drops his bag on the floor with a loud thud. He catches your expression, and despite everything, he smirks, though it’s softer than usual, his eyes gleaming as they meet yours.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and rough, but filled with a warmth that makes your heart swell.

“I missed you too,” you reply, stepping forward to close the distance between you. He reaches out, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close despite the state he’s in. The embrace is tight, almost desperate, and you feel the stiffness in his muscles, the way his body seems to sag against yours, as if holding you is the only thing keeping him upright. And as much as you want to melt into him, as much as you want to rest your head on his shoulder and breathe in his scent, the feel of the grit against your skin pulls you back.

“Logan, you need a shower.” Your voice gently chides as you lean back to look up at him, your hands smoothing over his chest before you brush a lock of hair away from his forehead, your fingers grazing the sweat-dampened strands.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest as he holds you, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek. “I just wanna hold you,” he grumbles, his face nuzzling into your hair.

You tilt your head back a bit, giving him a fond, but pointed look. “Not like this, you don’t,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek before wrinkling your nose again. “Seriously, babe, you stink.”

His mouth quirks into a tired, yet genuine smile, a rare sight that always makes your heart flutter. “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he mutters, his eyes softening as he looks down at you.

“Go on,” you urge, giving him a gentle nudge toward the washroom.

But Logan doesn’t move right away. Instead, he gives you a look, one that’s almost boyish in its vulnerability. “Can you come with me?” he asks, almost begging. “I’ve missed you… a lot.”

The sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes seem to plead with you, makes it impossible to refuse. You sigh, pretending to be more exasperated than you are, but the truth is, you’ve missed him just as much. “Alright, alright,” you relent, rolling your eyes playfully. “We’ll get cleaned up.”

A hint of relief washes over his features as he takes your hand, his rough fingers intertwining with yours as you lead him toward the bathroom. Once inside, you turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until the steam begins to rise around you.

You turn to face him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palms. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” you say softly, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

His hands cover yours, guiding them as he helps you pull the fabric over his head, his gaze never leaving your face. You can’t help but notice the remnants of bruises and cuts scattered across his body, and your heart aches to see him like this, knowing the toll the mission must have taken on him.

When he’s finally undressed, you shed your clothes quickly and step into the shower. Logan wraps his arms around your waist as he presses his forehead against yours, eyes closing as he takes in the moment.

The warm water cascades over both of you, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, each breath syncing with your own. There’s a stillness between you, a moment suspended in time where nothing else exists but the two of you.

“God, I missed this,” he murmurs affectionately, gazing down at you with a quiet longing.

“Me too,” you echo your voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile intimacy of the moment. You reach for the soap, lathering it between your hands, the bubbles forming quickly as the scent of fresh citrus fills the air.

Logan watches you with an almost reverent expression as you begin to work the soap across his chest, your fingers tracing the hard lines of his muscles. His skin, though scarred and battered, is warm beneath your touch, the tension slowly melting away under the soothing rhythm of your hands.

He lets out a low, contented hum as you wash him, his eyes slipping closed as he leans into your touch. “That feels good,” he breathes, the words rumbling through his chest.

You smile quietly, taking your time as you work your way across his torso, roaming every inch of him. When you reach his shoulders, you pause, stepping a little closer so you can run your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, your fingers gently massaging his scalp.

The sound he lets out is almost a groan, and you can feel his body relax even further as your fingers work through the tangles in his hair. You can’t help but lean in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s a lazy, unhurried gesture, one that speaks of comfort, and Logan responds immediately, turning his head slightly to capture your lips.

The kiss is slow, achingly slow, devoid of the usual urgency or passion, but instead filled with something deeper—love, trust, and a profound sense of belonging. His lips are warm and soft against yours, and you find yourself sighing at the familiar taste of him.

When you finally pull back, your breath mingles with his, and he opens his eyes to meet yours. He doesn’t say anything, but his hands slide from your waist up to your back, pulling you so close into his orbit that there’s no space left between you. He holds you like this, his chin resting on the top of your head as the water continues to pour over both of you. It’s not about desire, but rather a need to feel you close, to reassure himself that you’re here, safe and sound in his arms.

You continue to wash him, your hands moving slowly and gently over his body, lathering his hair with care as the water rinses away the grime of the mission. Every so often, Logan presses a soft kiss to your forehead or the top of your head, small gestures of affection that make your heart ache with how much you love him.

As you wash the soap from his hair, you reach up to run your fingers through it one last time, making sure it’s clean. You notice his eyes are half-closed as his head begins to droop down toward your shoulder.

“You’re going to fall asleep standing up,” you tease gently, running your hands down his chest before stepping back to grab the showerhead, directing the water over his shoulders and back.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs thickly with drowsiness. “You’ve got magic hands.”

After you’ve both rinsed off, you turn off the shower and reach for a towel, wrapping it around yourself before grabbing one for Logan. He takes it from you with a small, grateful smile, quickly drying off before he wraps the towel around his waist. But before you can do the same, he brings you into his arms again, his damp skin cool against yours as he holds you close.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft as he leads you towards the bed. He pulls back the covers, and the two of you climb in, still damp from the shower. Logan pulls you close, his strong arms encircling you as he pushes his face into the crook of your neck.

The scent of fresh soap and clean skin fills the air, and you can feel the last bits of tension leaving his body as he settles into the bed, his breathing evening out as the warmth of your embrace soothes him.

“You’re warm,” he mumbles.

“So are you,” you respond, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Your fingers trace soothing circles on his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Logan hums in satisfaction, his arms tightening around you as he presses closer.

“You’re my everything,” he whispers.

You turn in his arms so you can face him, your hand resting against his chest. “And you’re mine,” you whisper back, your thumb brushing over his heart in a slow, soothing motion.

In the quiet of the room, the only sound is the steady rhythm of Logan’s breathing and the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your hand. You feel completely safe, completely loved, wrapped up in his arms, and you know that he feels the same.

Drifting off to sleep, the last thing you hear is his voice, low and filled with affection. “Don’t ever leave me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“Never,” you assure. “I’ll always be here.”

Logan lets out a deep, contented sigh, pressing a final kiss to your temple. And as the warmth of his embrace lulls you into sleep, you can’t help but think about how you were always meant to be here, by his side.

----

4K notes · View notes