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aurorawritestoescape · 5 months ago

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HEATWAVE || Joel Miller x f!reader || 2,5k

Summary: Joel helps you to cool down on a hot summer day. In his own way.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, horny!Joel, sweaty filthy sex, m!masturbation, unprotected piv, creampie, cum eating, fingering, praise kink, swearing, pet names (baby, sweetheart). Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I’ve been dying of heat all week but imagining Joel railing me slightly alleviated my hardship. Hot Joel kiss to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕Hope you will enjoy this story. Love ya!❤️

same couple - HEATWAVE collection || MASTERLIST

“Don’t, Joel.”

“What?”

“Don’t touch me, please. It’s too fucking hot.”

Joel sighs and falls back on the couch as you shift away from his feet, getting comfortable as far as possible from his heat radiating body.

“Fine. Jus’ wanted to make you feel good. You’ve been snappy all day.”

“Sorry. It’s all this damn heat! I’m dying without the AC!” You groan and shake the hem of your crop top, trying to cool off just a little. You’re wearing the tiniest shorts you could find but nothing really helps when you’re dealing with a Texas summer without any conditioning.

“It’ll be fixed tomorrow, baby, don’t worry.”

“I know but… ugh!”

You throw a glance at Joel who has the most sympathetic expression on his handsome face. You also can’t deny that he looks hot like this, completely naked except for his home shorts. His broad chest, rising and falling in steady rhythm, is glistening with sweat, his thick thighs are spread and his cock is slightly tenting his only garment. You’d eat him whole if not for the fucking heat!

Torturing you even more he gives you his bedroom eyes and you bite your lip, thinking how to fuck him without touching him. Suddenly your gaze lights up.

“Oh! I know what we need!”

He raises one brow in a silent question and you start hastily explaining, at the same time grabbing your phone off the coffee table and opening a browser,

“I’m gonna look for hot weather sex positions.”

Joel chuckles and you furrow your brows at the man.

“No, don’t laugh. They minimize skin contact and should be easy on the movements. I saw an article once.”

Your pussy aches more and more the longer you watch Joel splay on the couch and you need him to be on board with your idea but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic.

“Not sure it’ll help much but…let’s try it,” he shrugs and you beam at him before typing away.

As always when you need it the most, the internet is slow and you shake your leg, already losing patience.

In your peripheral vision you notice Joel move and your eyes shift from your phone screen to him for just a second. You do a double take when you see him pull the waistband of his shorts down, freeing his semi hard cock, as his mischievous gaze is set on you.

"What are you doing?" you groan at the sight of his big hand, wrapping around his long juicy member.

"Jus' a lil' pre-game, baby. Go on with your research."

You watch him give his manhood a few languid pumps and your mouth waters when some wetness beads on the tip. A new surge of desire burns your core and your breathing fastens. A few seconds later you remember what you were doing and turn away from the hot sight so you could return to the task at hand.

You try to open the first link but it’s loading for eternity so you close it with a curse and press the second one.

Then soft grunts reach your ear and you see Joel pleasure himself in earnest, as his cock is drooling on his veiny hand.

“Hey, wait for me, would you?” You grumble, tapping the same link three times, as if it can make it open faster.

“I’m imagining your hand doing it, sweetheart,” Joel smirks with his eyes already hazy as his palm is sliding up and down his length, thumb brushing over the tip from time to time, “or your pretty mouth, licking my cock. Oh, I bet your pussy wants some of this. She doesn’t care about the heat.”

You know he’s teasing you so you’d hurry up but the solution of your problem is so close that you can’t just stop now. So you fix your shorts that are sticking to your already wet folds and avert your eyes from your tormentor.

“Fucking cookies,” you curse, getting hotter because of the sweltering weather and also after noticing Joel buck his hips to fuck his fist better.

Finally you find an illustration of an almost contactless sex position and tilt your head, trying to understand it.

“Where’s his..? Oh! But… Nah. I’d break your dick like that.”

“We don’t want that,” Joel chuckles, his voice strained with pleasure he’s giving himself.

You’ve never seen him jerk his cock for such a long time so your gaze involuntarily shifts away from your phone again and you shamelessly stare at his hand gliding up and down his stiffness.

“We miss you,” Joel taunts you, seeing desire paint your face, and shakes his cock from side to side, spilling precum everywhere.

“Joel..” You whine and using every ounce of your will you tear your eyes away from his body and return them to the screen.

“Ok, this one is more doable. But it’ll take me forever to come like that… Oh and this… this just defies gravity.”

Giggling at the picture, you show Joel the screen and he gives you a polite smile but his half-lidded eyes tell you that he’s already deep in the ocean of lust, close to reaching his high.

Your gaze slides down to his throbbing cock, his big hand jerking it and you give up. You throw your phone back on the table and with a quiet “Fuck it,” you decide to literally fuck it. Fuck Joel.

Your man’s eyes light up as he coos at you,

“Yeah, c’mere, baby. Come sit on your popsicle.”

You laugh, climbing up the couch over his huge body and straddling his thighs. His skin is unbearably hot but your need overshadows everything.

You take his cock in your sweaty hands and purr, wetting your lips, “popsicle? shall I lick it first then?”

“Usually I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to that, but…,” he says, taking in your body, wrapped in a tight crop top and little shorts. You hear him groan as you lean down to his leaking cock but then his hand on your cheek stops you, “but! I’ve been playing without you and … My cock’s ready for your sweet pussy, baby. Gimme.”

With that he shifts to the side and pulls you to lie down next to him on the couch. The warmed up surface and Joel’s huge body pressed close to you make you whine as another wave of heat hits you.

“Shh,” Joel shushes you and clumsily sits up, almost making you fall off the narrow seat.

He takes his shorts off and helps you discard your clothes as well.

“Fuck, look at you,” he mumbles, his hungry eyes travelling over your exposed body, “wanna lick you all over.”

You take a sharp breath, suffocating with lust, but then Joel does the unforgivable. He lays down on top of you, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and you’re about to cry at how hot the vast expanse of his sweaty skin makes you.

“Joel!” You cry out, trying to push him off, palms braced on his chest, but the next second his lips crash against yours and he’s giving you a heady kiss which quickly makes you forget all about the heat. You’re immediately enchanted by him, his taste, his desire for you. The kiss is sloppy and messy and you cool off a little whenever your wet lips part from each other, even only for a second.

Soon sweat coats your body and Joel’s cock pulsating against your belly turns you into a desperate puddle. To get some respite from the heat, you tilt your head down and blow on your chest.

“It won’t help,” Joel murmurs, “Maybe this will.”

He hunches over you, leans down and licks a long stripe from your breast over your neck and jaw and reaches your lips and kisses you again. You hum with pleasure, noting your salty taste on his tongue and enjoying the sensation of the cooling wet path on your skin.

You’re making out for a few more seconds but the ache between your thighs makes your wriggle under him and Joel hastily lifts his torso and hovers over you, his chest inches from yours as you breathe out after this tiny relief. You glance down and see his heavy cock rest on your mound, his balls pressed to your folds, some wetness smeared on your belly where he is leaking on you. The sight makes you whine his name and reach for his big member.

It’s hot, stiff and damp when you caress it gently with your fingers and Joel’s dark eyes lower to the place where you’re making him even harder if it’s even possible.

“Put it in, sweetheart. Want you on my cock already. You’re drippin’ all over me. My balls are fuckin’ drenched.”

His Texan drawl is even more apparent when he’s so turned on and you know it’s time for him to fuck you. But he teased you so much. Why can’t you?

You throw your legs apart wider, but pressing your hips deeper into the couch, pull away from Joel’s hot crotch. You feel the air slightly cooling your sopping pussy and it feels so amazingly good, that a gasp climbs up your throat.

“Where’re you goin’, naughty girl?” Joel groans and rolls his hips against your pussy, scorching you with his heated thighs, balls and cock, making you mewl. He overplays you, making your hungry hole clench around nothing, clit twitch and you immediately bring your hand down and push his pulsating hot length into your soaked entrance. Both of you moan loudly at the anticipated sensation.

Joel drops his body on you again, holding some of his weight as he braces his forearm on the couch.

You should be uncomfortable, annoyed, hot and miserable but all you feel is his cock spreading your insides, his balls rubbing against your ass. His scent, a mixture of sweat and musk with a slight trace of his favorite piney deodorant, envelops you completely. He invades all your senses at once and you let him, welcome it with your body and soul.

“Joel,” you whisper, choking on your feelings and hugging him even closer.

“I know, baby, I love you too,” he replies, covering your whimpering mouth with his and drinking your oh’s and ah’s.

Soon he’s rolling his hips, his thrusts languid and gentle, as you’re making out, glued together by desire and love. You become one as the heat, radiating from the two of you and the sweat on your skin are mixing together and your bodies slide against each other in this lustful dance.

His cock is massaging your walls, kissing your cervix with its fat head and you glide your hands over the expense of Joel’s dewy back, shoulders and arms before they sneak down and you grab handfuls of his ass. You start grinding your pussy against his pelvic bone and coarse hair.

Suddenly Joel lifts his torso and looks at you, blown out eyes darting between yours, his hips still moving.

“You’re drownin’ my cock, sweetheart. So fuckin’ wet. My perfect pussy. Wanna see?”

After hearing your sultry ‘yeah’, Joel brings his hand to your face, brushes your lower lip with his thumb and then his palm glides down your heated body. Your skin erupts in goosebumps from the gentle contact and you whimper when he runs his fingers over your slicked up folds, spread around his fat cock.

You lift your hips chasing his touch on your clit, and he grants your wish. His index and middle finger find your hardening bud and he swirls it for a few seconds, closely watching your reaction. Your lips part and eyes flutter shut, as his cock and fingers make your pussy purr. Joel’s manhood twitches deep inside you before he pauses his thrusts into your wet heat.

Suddenly he pulls his cock out entirely.

“Joel! No!”

He tsks at you for the impatience but then his girthy length gets replaced by three of his fingers and you gasp and then moan when he begins pushing them in and out of your messy cunt, curling them to press the pleasure spot inside your core.

Joel sees how close you’re by the way your eyes roll to the back of your head and your walls start squeezing his digits harder and harder. He places his thumb on your clit and pushes, sending a new wave of ecstasy to your brain and you cry out as your climax hits your sweaty body. The drops of your sweat slide down on the couch because of how hard you tremble under him and Joel watches the euphoria course through you with an adoring gaze.

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Good girl.”

When you still and open your spent eyes at him, his fingers curve inside you as he scoops your slick and cum and then pulls them out. He raises his hand and watches your creamy juices slide down his hand.

“Joel,” is all you manage to mewl, witnessing your liquid euphoria.

With his tongue peeking out, he brings his hand to your chest and paints your pebbled nipple with your wetness. Then he leans closer and blows on it and you moan at the temperature change.

“Yeah, you like it, huh? Dirty girl.”

As if confirming his words, your nipple hardens more and with a grunt Joel latches onto your breast and licks off the taste of your pussy. You whimper as another course of pleasure reignites your core.

Joel hums, enjoying the flavor of your skin, and the next moment his cock spears you in one go and he begins pounding into you, pulling his hips back fast and thrusting his throbbing manhood into your sopping pussy with hard and sharp strokes. His tongue continues dancing over your tits and you clench his curls with the last drops of strength you have in your spent body. After a few more thrusts, Joel parts from your puffy nipple and growls, still railing you.

“Fuck, baby— choke my cock again— C’mon, be a good girl—come again.”

He kisses you passionately while his hand slithers down between your bodies and he starts rubbing your clit, chanting, “One more, one more.”

In no time you’re squealing as your pussy is clamping around his cock and it sends him over the precipice. Joel breathes out a moan and his hips jerk again and again, sending rope after rope of his hot cum inside you. Your cunt keeps milking him of the last drop as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours, your eyes locked with his and full of gratitude, love and euphoria.

You’re descending from your highs together, limbs tangled and bodies flush against each other. To your surprise the sweat cooling your skin and his cum seeping out of your pussy send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m cold,” you mumble into the crook of his neck.

“Really? Maybe we don’t need AC at all? I can just fuck the heat out of you?”

“Yes, we do,” you disagree, giggling.

“But I loved helping you, baby. We should reschedule the repair for next week.”

You push him off you, burning the man with a fiery gaze, “Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.”

“I’m kiddin’, sweetheart,” Joel chuckles, hugging you tight and shutting your grunts up with a kiss. A second later you feel hot all over again.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💖

Same couple - HEATWAVE collection || Masterlist

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

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#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pwp #joel miller tlou

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laneywrld · 7 months ago

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Oh Baby | Lewis Hamilton mini series

part one.

word count: 7.7k

Warnings: smut, absolute filth. breeding kink

Lewis can't help but want to give his best friend everything she desires. she can have whatever she wants.

You were Lewis' best friend; the world knew it. The world also saw that he admired you in a way he hadn't anyone else.

You'd been in Lewis' life since the two of you were literal babies. Your dad was best friends with Anthony, Lewis' father, so in a way, you two were destined to be the best of mates.

Sometimes, Lewis wishes he had the chance to meet you organically, but as quickly as that thought flickers through his mind, it is pushed away just as fast.

He would've been alone as a kid if you had come later in his life. But still, meeting you later would've changed the trajectory of your guy's relationship. He wouldn't be stuck in the constant lock of just being your "best friend."

He would continue to stick out his role and push through his torture if it meant you keeping him around.

Since you were kids, you two have been joined at the hip. You were always there to defend him at school when the bullies got to him. You were always down to follow his dreams with him, even if it meant convincing your dad to let you ride with his family to watch him go-karting in the sweltering heat. You were always there.

You still are, and maybe that's what's got his heart thrumming in his chest as he watches you dance with his brother Nicholas. The two of your hands are entwined as you sway to the music blasting from the speakers.

As Nicholas twirls you around, your eyes meet Lewis for a brief second, and you smile at him before you are faced with his brother again. You joke with Nicholas as the two of you dance, your head constantly turning to check on Lewis.

He loves how his family is your own and vice versa. He loves how you treat his brother with the same tender love and care that he does. He can't help but to admire everything you do, even if it's just including his brother in something as simple as dancing.

You give him a curious look as you sway with Nicholas. He only grins in return, raising his glass at you. He sees your eyes fleet over his shoulder, and then your mouth pierces together in a knowing smile. You tilt your head to motion behind him, and when he turns to follow your orders, he sees Laura approaching.

When he turns back to you, you are no longer dancing wildly with his brother but sitting comfortably with your friends, accepting the shot Miles pours for you.

Lewis shakes his head, turning to greet Laura. He shouldn't feel disappointed and he shouldn't feel an emptiness wallow in his gut at the mere fact that he can't watch you sway in the night. His girlfriend, (if you could even call her that), was approaching and he should be glad to see her, but he can't help but to relish in the fact that'd he'd rather observe you from a distance than be in her presence.

"Hey baby!" she cheers. " I'm sorry I'm late. I got hung up at the agency."

"S'fine." He smiles, embracing the hug. "Let's grab you a drink and then settle in with everyone."

Meanwhile you are trying your best to tame your friends and their instantly sour moods. "C'mon y'all. Be nice to the girl."

"Nice?" Whitney scoffs. "I don't like that lil' girl."

"Whit." You scold, "She's not for us to like; as long as Lew likes her, we support them, yeah?"

"Whatever," Miles piques up, "She not good enough for my guy?"

Always the wiser one, you shoot miles with a frown that shows your agreeance: "We can think that, but who are we to decide for him? Lew's not an idiot. When the time comes to make the right call, he'll make it, yeah?"

"Yeah." Daniel says, "But the only right call would be you."

You smack your teeth, reaching for another shot. "Here this nigga go on his shit again."

The table erupts in laughter just as Lewis approaches with Laura.

"Guys, you all remember Laura?"

"Do we?" Whit scoffs under her breath, downing a shot. The group breaks into fits of sniggering. You eye them with a look that screams, Act right! before turning to face Lewis and Laura in your seat.

"Laura, hi! girl!" You dragged.

Once again, you shoot your eyes across the group; one by one, they all push out fake ass hellos or a mumbled What's up.

Lew watches on as you turn to him, smiling. He can't help it as his own grows wider.

After the phony greeting, Lewis drags Laura to sit with him. The only open spot is the two-seater across from you.

Conversation is ablaze in the midst of the circle. You lean forward chatting with Laura for a while since no one else bothered. Lewis has his arm thrown over her shoulder but he is watching you. Like always.

"Oh, so you planned this gathering?" Laura questions.

"Isn't it obvious?" You joke. "Lew could never." You motion to the lights and grand decor located around the yard.

"Oh, please." Lewis smacks his teeth.

"Admit it, Lew. It's my thing. Tell me I did good."

"You did great." He smirks, leaning back, his legs spread in a way that has you ready to drool.

You divert your eyes, sitting back in your own seat.

"Y/N's so domestic, it's giving wife."

You squint your eyes at Whit, giving her the ultimate stink face.

"You're always going to be the stepmum to us Laura. We can't separate mum and dad." Mori speaks up.

There was an ongoing joke in your friend group that had been circling for years. You and Lewis were Mum and Dad, you two paired together so well that it was like watching the perfect marriage. Your friends referred to you as each others "hubby" and "wifey".

Still, your friends were beginning to get out of pocket, and you turned to Lewis expecting him to put an end to their shenanigans like any good dad would. He only smiles at you his eyebrows wiggling in a playful manner.

You feel your cheeks burn as he doesn't deny it.

"She is quite domestic, would make the perfect wife." Miles piques up from beside Lewis.

It's a scheme that you two were left out of, a plan made to force you two to realize your feelings for each other.

His words trinkle into Lewis' mind. He's always thought you'd make the perfect wife. He's thought about marrying you seriously plenty of times. It's also been a childhood dream of his to make it official, especially after having your own wedding ceremony at the playground under the monkey bars, commemorated by strawberry ring-pops and sand confetti that had both of your parents grumbling as they scrubbed your scalps clean that night.

He's only ever told Miles this, but he wishes he never got seriously involved that first time at all. He thinks he did it out of pure irrationality. You had your first serious boyfriend, and Lewis thought well shit. To him it seemed as though you'd never be that into him. So he spent seven years on and off with a woman he was unsure about when all he really wanted was you. He's wasted so much time.

He thinks back to the times where distance sprouted between you two. Nicole didn't like how close the two of you were, and you respected it even if he didn't want you to. He feels a bit like a dickhead thinking of all the times he lied to his ex telling her you were nothing more than a friend to him. It was obviously a lie. If it wasn't a lie he wouldn't have spent majority of his relationship trying to make you realize what it was you were missing. Hint: it obviously didn't work, or you'd be the girl under his arm right now.

"I'll be back in a few," you announce, standing from your seat. I'm going to go do my rounds. Give Lew a break." Lewis' stare was beginning to get intense, you could feel your little resolve crumbling the longer her stared into your soul.

He watches you stroll over to his dad and your dad, stepping in between them and wrapping your arms around their waist. He can't read your lips but can tell that whatever you said had the two doubled over in laughter. You pat their backs, trekking over to your next target.

You're a little ways away, refilling wine glasses at the "mum table." His mum has you saying something that leads to you smooching the top of her head as you pass by. You set the bottle on the table before suspiciously eyeing your mother and opting to pull it to the other end. Lewis lets out a chuckle, watching your antics.

It'd been awkward silence covering the group like a blanket since you'd left. Everyone watching Lewis, watch you.

You had convinced Lew to buy this house, practically begged him all of those years ago. "Lew, the backyard," you had marveled, hands outstretched at your sides. "Imagine hosting out here." You had gone on a rant, dragging him across each area of the yard and throwing out ideas for gatherings that didn't even exist.

He closed the deal that same day. He was glad he listened to you as he watched you light some sparklers for the group of kids. He watches you crouch down to his nephew's level, pressing him against your front as you direct the sparkler into his hand.

He couldn't see your face but could tell you were muttering words of encouragement into his ear.

You stand with a proud grin when he twirls the stick around confidently.

You turn as a small child tugs on your dress, "I'm thirsty, Auntie y/n/n."

You coo, picking up your friend's child. "Hi, mama! let's fix that for you." You pop her onto your hip, waltzing into the house from the open patio doors. She runs out moments later, a juice box snug in her hands. You follow after, arms full of the very same juice.

You crouch down as the children huddle around you. You poke each straw through the hole before passing them out one by one.

"Look at Mama Bear." Whit laughs as her eyes follow Lewis' line of sight. He is watching you with a smile and that classic sparkle in his eye that he always seems to have when it comes to you.

"She'd make a great mum, huh?" Lewis rasps out.

You're back at the fire pit before you know it.

"Yeah, Mori, you should totally let me kidnap your child next weekend."

"Have her girl, she's all yours." She scoffs, "badass little girl."

The group laughs, but Lewis can't help but notice the gloom flash over your face before it quickly washes away.

He knows about your desire to have a family. He remembers how you opened up to him about it after your last relationship ended, and you took it worse than you ever had before.

He remembers that day like it was yesterday.

You were a drunken, blubbering mess, sitting on his couch with puffy eyes and a blotchy face. "Ugh!" you groaned, reaching for the bottle to pour yourself another glass. He beats you to it, pulling it away and setting it down on the table at the end of the couch.

"Hey," he coos, his hand pulling you into his side as your lip wobbles. You can't help the outburst of tears for what feels like the 100th time.

"Let's talk about it, yeah? That might help a bit."

You had been friends for so long, and not once had he seen you this distraught. In fact, you were the one comforting him most of the time.

"I hate him," you whined, reaching up to cover your face. He got me over here looking stupid."

"Hey," he pulls your hand down, still holding you against him, just holding your hand down at your side as well. "Don't be embarrassed for feeling, ain't that what you tell me?"

"Yeah," you shudder.

"Now, talk to me."

"I wanted kids. I don't think i'm that hurt about him you know?" you don't give him time to answer, "I just feel like I'm not meant to be with someone, like love is not for me. Sometimes it seems like everyone has a person out there for them but me. I want a family of my own. I love my family and yours, but it's different." you cry harder then.

"I want a human to love unconditionally, I want babies, and I want to be a mom; I would make a great mumma."

"You would." He hums, his free hand coming up to wipe your face. You pull away turning to face him, your legs are crossed in front of you and he reaches forward grasping both of your hands in his.

He has one leg propped under the other, and his body is turned to face you. The way he's looking at you makes you want to break down into another fit of tears. No one pays attention to you as much as Lewis.

"Is there something wrong with me?" You ask, and you sound so broken that Lewis is fighting off tears of his own.

"You're perfect." He assures, and his hold on your hands grows tighter. "There's someone out there who loves you whole. Through and through, you hear me? There's nothing wrong with you, just the wrong people you've come across. You're going to get all that you want one day. He was an idiot anyway. What happened anyway, huh? What made him-."

"I left him." you interrupted, "which is crazy that i'm crying over him this bad but I could feel a disconnect between us, we were too different, didn't have the same end goal."

"You know what's beautiful about this?"

You look up to him with a baffled expression to say what the actual fuck is beautiful about being an emotional mess. He chuckles, swiping one hand against your wet cheek, where he settles his palm to cup your face.

"One day, when you get what you desire, you're going to appreciate it a whole lot more because of how much you had to go through to get it."

And if Lewis wasn't a scary idiot, he swore he'd given you a kid right there and then, hell, however many you wanted. He's always had a soft spot for you, giving you anything you could have remotely even thought about wanting. You mention wanting to visit Brazil, bam, you're on his private jet whisked away, you want a yard to throw family gatherings, the deed is signed. You complain about wanting specific cupcakes from your favorite bakery, he was out of town but it was nothing to have his assistant travel across town to place them at your door. The point is, he'd give you anything in a second. He's good for it and he'd give you his baby if you really truly wanted.

You look up to Lewis the same memory flowing through both of your minds, he shoots you a tiny smile, raising his glass in your direction. You return his expression sipping from your freshly filled wine glass.

Your smile blows him away; he can never control the way his heart lurches; you'd think after years and years, your charm would lose its effect on him, but somehow, they grow stronger and stronger as each day passes by.

He doesn't know how long his group of friends sit around the fire pit laughing and chattering along (you including Laura every chance you get, seeing as your other friends seem to have forgotten she exists.) Before he knows it his father is approaching. "Son, there's a million sleeping kids all over your house, I think that's our queue to pack it up."

At that announcement you guys' friends begin to pack themselves up. Lewis says his goodbyes. The group sniggers as Anthony shoots a "Nice meeting you Lauren."

"He called me Lauren," she pouts, "and I've met him before."

"Don't pay it any mind," you speak up balancing an armful of empty glasses, "he's got a bad memory."

You scold your friends, shooing them off as Lewis apologizes to Lauren, Laura.

After a while the house is empty and you say the goodbyes in place of Lewis. As you load the dishwasher you see them bicker back and forth through the large window.

You close the door, pressing start, deciding to stop evading their private conversation. You connect to Lewis' speaker, soft melodies bleeding through the house as you go room to room, collecting any foreign object that doesn't belong. You sit with Roscoe for a while after refilling his bowl, giving him kisses and rubs until his body vibrates with snores and then you are up and at it again finding anything to tidy.

You sing quietly to yourself you huff wiping the imaginary dust onto your dress. Just as you're going to sneak from the home, Lewis' voice halts you in your tracks.

"You're leaving?" His eyes are furrowed, and his face is scrunched up.

"I- uh yeah, I didn't know how long the two of you were going to be."

"You're not staying the night?"

Your eyes flicker between Lewis and Laura, "Um, no." you chuckle hoping he'd catch the hint.

As much as you loved Lewis and spending time with him, that love didn't cover listening to him fuck the brains out of his current fling.

"She's not staying," Lewis speaks up.

You are still frozen by the door, your hand holding onto the handle. You peek at Laura, her face covered in disdain.

Your mouth drops open and then closed, trying to figure out the words to articulate your desire to leave in order to avoid whatever weird tension is brewing.

"Bye, Lewis." Laura bites, her long legs striding past you quickly. You move to the side, and she slips through the door without saying so much as a word to you.

"Ooh," you whistle, watching as the door frame rattles from the intensity of the close.

"What's her problem?"

"Your friends are bitches Lew." He mocks in a whiny voice.

You laugh, clutching your chest, "They're a bit rude."

"Yeah," he sighs.

"For good cause," you continue.

"Yeah."

"I mean, I don't like the girl either, but as long as you don't mind what she did then-."

"You staying." Lewis interrupts. He really didn't feel like talking about Laura, especially since he was alone in your presence for the first time today; it was all he wanted for his birthday.

It'd been three weeks since he last saw you, and while the two of you talked on the phone and texted every single day, it'd never compare to actually being in your space.

You groan as he puckers out his bottom lip, giving you his signature puppy dog eyes that always seem to convince you to do whatever he's asking for.

"Only because it's your birthday, and these heels hurt my feet so much, I don't really think I can drive."

"Oh please," Lewis laughs, "don't act like you don't wanna spend time with me. Excuses, excuses, excuses."

You waddle over to him, grasping onto his waiting arm as you bend at your knees to free your aching feet from said heels.

He takes the shoes from your hand, leading you up the stairs.

As the two of you approach his bedroom, you feel your excitement boil over.

When he opens the door, you speak up, "I figured what'd be a good gift for someone who literally has enough money to buy whatever he wanted. Then I remembered how much you miss home while you're away and came to the conclusion that money could never bring that kind of comfort."

Lewis sniffles as he looks at the array of gifts spread over his bed.

There is a stuffed Roscoe and Coco, a scrapbook that you'd dug into the archives to fill, letters from his family, your family, your friends, and an array of letters from you. Flowers, because to you, he deserved his more than anyone walking. You'd recreated his favorite ever birthday gift to him, a knit cheetah that you had your grandma help crochet with you for weeks before his seventh birthday. It's safe to say the OG had gone through a lot over the years. And finally, his first helmet from his carting career. He remembers his parents not being able to afford his helmet after buying him a game console for his birthday.

He remembers how upset he was but understanding of his parent's situation. He also remembers you leaving his party that night, face set in as much determination as it could be for a kid. The next day, you popped up with your dad shoving a brand new helmet adorned in a purple sticky bow into his arms. It'd been so many years since he'd last seen the helmet; as a teen, he'd gotten rid of so many things he considered to be junk, the helmet being one. But the older he got, the more he realized just how sentimental stuff like that was.

"You don't understand how hard I had to search through my Granny's attic for that. She always figured you'd want that back one day, pulled it right out of your yard sale that day."

Off to the side were stacked shoe boxes, a box from his jeweler, and a few designer bags.

He throws his arms over your shoulders, pulling you into his chest; he nestles his head atop of yours before he cranes to press multiple kisses to your hairline. "You're my favorite person in the whole world, know that, right?" He rasps.

"You wrap your arms around his waist pulling him in closer. "I love you Lew, happy birthday. You deserve it all."

You don't know how long the two of you stand their wrapped in each other's embrace before you part.

"You can shower in here; I'll hop in the guest."

"Unzip me?"

You turn giving him your back to face, you feel his hand reach up to gently swipe your hair over your shoulder, you shiver as his finger tips glide against the skin of your neck.

"I'm gonna unclip your necklace first," he announces, and his voice is raspier than usual. He gulps as he pinches at the golden clasp, reaching one hand around your front to catch the dainty piece of jewelry.

He places it into you waiting palm, and feels his hands get clammy as he holds onto your hip for leverage. Holding you into place as his other hand glides the zipper down your back. His mouth waters and his heart hammers at the sight of your glowy skin being reveled to him.

You hold the dress up at the front, staring at him from the mirror in the corner of his room. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and there is such a charged tension lingering between the two of you. There are no words spoken as the two of you revel in each others presence. Both of his hands are now on your hips as you fell yourself subtly lean back into him. His chains cool your back as you sink into him.

You smile at him through the mirror, "I really did miss you, but I have to shower. I'm sweaty, and I've been chasing kids around all day."

He chuckles, nudging you away but not before leaning over your shoulder, craning his neck in order to place a lingering kiss on your cheek that is almost too close to the corner of your mouth.

"Go shower, stinky."

You roll your eyes, treading into the bathroom and closing the door. You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding.

Fuck, it was so challenging yet so exhilarating being in Lew's presence when all you want to do is strip him bare and have your way with him.

You put those thoughts aside and turned on the shower.

When you're clean and dry, you exit the bathroom in your robe (Lewis always keeps an extra for you), where you see Lewis sprawled across the bed, clad only in a pair of boxers. He watches you as you stride past, his head lies against the bed turning to follow your movements. He watches you disappear into his closet and exit, covered in his Mercedes t-shirt that falls down your thighs.

He lulls away the inappropriate images flowing through his mind and instead focuses on the fact that you're wearing his shirt to bed rather than any selection of your clothing piled in his dressers or hanging in your section of his closet.

He makes no attempt to move as you crawl up the bed towards him.

The scene is an absolute vision; he feels blood rush to his member, and he has to use all of his willpower not to let out the lewd groan he's containing.

You only smile at him, and you look so fucking beautiful and innocent he swears if you stare at him for any longer, he'd say fuck it all and pull you down underneath him.

He starts a mental countdown, but before he reaches one, you are flipping onto your back, his arm serving as a pillow as you fit comfortably against his side.

You turn your head to the right, seeing the bottle of liquor in his hand.

"Give me that." He passes it over, his lips turned up in a smirk.

You lift your head, taking a good bit down your throat before passing it back; he does the same.

"I've got to post you for your birthday!" You gasp excitedly. You two joke around as you upload to your pages.

y/u/n

liked by haileybeiber, landonorris and 1,472,872 others

y/u/n my favorite holiday, happy birthday lewlew, i love you to the moon and back, although you love to move through life fast I am always happy to spend slow days like this together with you cheetah, thank you for the lifelong memories and for sticking by me, i love you like no other <3

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whitwhit mum and dad ❤️ happy birthday pops

fencer Petition to make today a national holiday.

lewishamiton I love you more than life bunny, Thank you for today it was everything I needed.

lewishamilton

liked by mercedesamg, charles_leclerc and 3,563,986 others

lewishamilton Another one 🎂 Always a blast spending time with the people I love. Blessed to see another year surrounded by those I love. Special shoutout to bunny for the impromptu birthday celebration, every year that passes I am reminded of how we've gone through life together, always. Can't wait to spend many more years surrounded by love and happiness, thank you for the birthday wishes.

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user the way his post is full of him and y/n as kids. they really grew with each other 🥹

y/u/n cakes and candles my guy i luv uuuu

morismith +1 dad 🥳 child of a happy and healthy marriage

You two laugh as you scroll through your friends' comments. Somewhere along the line of you two passing the bottle back and forth, you began your own game of twenty-one questions, extra juicy, seeing as you two already knew damn near everything about the other.

"Hmmm!" you light up, "take a shot, or tell me why Nicki called you a weird little guy."

Lewis smacks his teeth but breaks into a fit of laughter as you turn over, propping your chin up against his arm. Your feet kick back and forth as you stare into him.

"You're messy." He declares, downing another shot.

You groan, reaching over his bare body to take the bottle. "And you're no fun."

"What's one thing you've never told anyone, including me? I mean deepest, darkest secret."

You hum again, allowing Lewis to reposition the two of you. Now he is rested against the headboard, and your head rests on his lap. You let out a gentle moan when his fingers begin to rub against your scalp—his member twitches in his boxers.

"Answer the question." He demands his hands, pushing your head forward slightly to avoid the feel of his growing penis.

Your eyes bore into his, and he could see you fighting to decide whether to tell him or not. He almost tells you to take your shot until the words tumble from your plush lips.

"I used to have the biggest crush on you for the longest time, like probably was in love with you." You admit. Your eyes never leave his and it has his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He feels many questions running through his mind and they want to tumble out like an avalanche but like the relaxed person he is, he plays it cool.

"yeah, and what happened to these feelings, bunny?"

You smile at the nickname, rolling your eyes as you scoff. Lewis always picked at your cute persona as a kid, calling you as sweet and timid as a bunny, the bunny teeth also didn't help.

"You almost got married," you answered. "Realized that a childhood crush was just that, I let it simmer for so long that I made it seem realistic. When you started considering taking things further, I think I closed that book, locked that door, and threw away the key. It was easy when you left her and started running rabid like a fucking dog." you snort.

He laughs with you, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You calling me a slut?"

"If the condom fits." You tease.

He rolls his eyes, but deep down inside, he is in shambles over the chance with you that he's missed. And he's regretting every decision that led up to you losing those feelings for him. "Next question."

You're staring deep into his soul with those sparkly eyes again and he can't help but return the same lovey eyes back. He always feels like this with you, wholly enamored and floored by anything that you do.

You look so sweet and perfect that he doesn't expect the question that falls from your lovely mouth. "What's your favorite kink, like what's something that you do during sex that has you absolutely ready to go berserk?"

"You got a dirty mind, bunny." He teases, two fingers tapping against your temple.

"I've got a breeding kink, I think." He doesn't go into full detail, describing how he discovered it years ago when out shopping with you, and you passed through the baby aisle to shop for his newborn niece at the time. He doesn't describe how his pants tightened at the sight of you holding up cute little onesies or how his mind wandered to you laying spread out in his bed, being pumped full of his cum and loving it, begging for it. He doesn't tell you how he came the hardest he'd ever come in his life that night in his shower, imagining you plump with his child and a bright smile on your lips.

"Elaborate." There is a glint in your eyes as you observe him that urges him to finish his thoughts.

"It's something about loving someone so much that you want to fill them up with another part of you. You love someone so much that you want them to swell up with what is yours. Just fucking the cum back into them every time it slips out, one goal. Give someone my babies."

As he talks, his own words excite him; you can feel it, and you say nothing. The air surrounding you two is charged with such a lewd and sensual energy.

You throb between your thighs as he speaks to you, and his voice is getting deeper and deeper. He is hot and hard against your cheek; you stare up at him, your eyes leaving his own to trail the way his lips move to the way his jaw clenches, to the way his throat bobs all the way to his tatted, glowing chest. His words are getting to you. It's no secret that you, too, had a breeding kink, but hearing him say the words you wished to hear spoken to you in the midst of passion made you shoot into action. You are on his lap before you know it, mouth mushing against his in an instant.

He doesn't hesitate to return the favor; he separates your lips, gliding his tongue into your mouth, licking you open. You moan into his mouth, pressing yourself against him harder. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, reaching one hand up to grasp the back of your neck and the other on your ass, pushing you impossibly closer to him.

You rock your hips against him, grinding down over him; he lets out a raspy groan, pulling away from your lips, his head falling to watch where your bodies connect; he lets out a moan as his grey briefs darken in color. You continue to glide back and forth over him

You swear you hear him whimper as you lift from his lap. He reaches to pull you back, but you are too fast; kneeling between his spread legs, the sight alone has him letting out another drawn-out whine. Your hand creeps up, rubbing him through the material. You were such a fucking vixen it was driving him mad. His head falls back against the headboard, and his eyes squeeze shut. You're barely doing anything to him, and it feels better than anything he's ever experienced, and he can only equate it to it being you.

You finally free him from his confines, and his head drops down to view you, and his jaw falls slack.

You jerk him up and down, your thumb swiping over the slit at the head of his perfect cock. You moan at the sight, and he twitches. You kiss at the top, staring at him through your lashes, and he swears he almost burst right then and there. Your lips are shiny with spit and you're practically drooling over him. As you place kisses up and down his shaft. You finally slip him into your mouth humming as you taste him. It has his legs spasming making you jostle a little.

You pop him from your mouth, giving him a cute smile that has him throwing his head back. She's going to fucking kill me.

You're moaning over him, driving him absolutely fucking insane. Lewis watches you through clouded eyes, his hand traveling to your hair. He pushes you lower and lower until you're shoving all of him down your throat, and then he pulls you off for air. You smile up at him going down again, and he lets out the nastiest moan you've ever heard.

"So fucking greedy for my dick." You'd never heard him speak like this, and it was scrambling your brain and your insides. "Mhmm," you moan over him. He holds onto your hair with his left hand, his right hand trailing to pull up the shirt that adorns your beautiful body. The higher he raises the shirt, the more unstable he becomes; the black panties cover barely anything, and when he continues to glide his hand up your back, your breasts hang loosely. He fondled them in his hand tweaking your nipple.

He tenses up, watching you take him down your throat like a champ, "fuuckk."

He pulls you up for the last time, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. He thrust up into nothing. His tongue finds it's way into your mouth and moves along with you in the most sensual kiss you'd ever gotten in your life.

"Lew." you whine, and it has him tensing again. This was better than he'd imagined. For years for his entire life he'd pictured this moment, played it out in a million different scenarios and they don't even measure up to this.

He was harder than he'd ever been and ready to finish at the mere sight of you looking up at him with his cock stuffed in your mouth.

"I can't- I won't last-" He is breathless, and his chest is falling up and down harshly. He looks so perfect, face tinted red and lips red and plump.

"Fuck me then," you order, and it flips a switch in him.

He'd dreamed of this moment, and he would be damned if he let his mind fuck this up for him. He pulls the large shirt from your frame and flips you over, laying you gently on your back. He hikes your legs up, spreading them open and pressing them down. Your knees touch the bed flat at your sides, and you mewl as his tongue flatly glides against your core.

You shiver and shake as he sucks you up. You can't stop squirming as he literally eats you. You moan his name over and over, hands coming down to clutch his curls. He moans against your core, pressing you down harder. You quiver in his hold, and you can feel that ball inside you, ready to burst. "Come for me, baby, let it out." He urges kissing your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, and that's when it happens.

The best orgasm you've had in your life. He licks you through it before sitting up on his knees. He still has you spread open at his mercy, and the sight below him has him stroking himself above you.

"So fucking pretty." he rasps, "ready for me?"

You nod, so fucked out that words seem impossible to you.

He chuckles, his hand coming up to hold you open as his other directs his hard dick to your hole; he pushes the head in at first, hissing as you suck him in. "Mhhm," he moans, "want me so bad, huh?"

You mewl, trying to push your body up to push him in.

"Aht, aht." he pushes his hand against you harder. "Let me take my time, make it right for us, yeah. Been wanting this forever."

His words make you gush more and more; you'd never imagine that Lewis, of all people, was this vocal during sex.

"He lets go of himself, both hands now gripping your thighs that are still burning against your chest. He stares deep into your soul as he pushes himself in an inch just to ease out just as slowly.

"Gotta stretch this pretty pussy out first, huh? So fucking tight." he coos.

Your eyes fall closed, your mouth going slack as he slides in again. "It's your dick, baby. All yours."

"C'mon bunny, wanna see your eyes, wanna watch you take me." You open your eyes breaths leaving you as little hitches as he finally fills you up.

"He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes watching where the two of you connect. "Fits so good," he groans, "made jus' for me."

You only mewl and clench the sheets.

"So pretty," he drops your legs, propping himself up on an elbow; his weight covers you like a security blanket. "Mhmm." he moans, sliding in and out of you. Your walls were suffocating him, sucking him in and trying to keep him in place. His face is scrunched up in pure pleasure as he succumbs to your velvety walls. So fucking warm and wet.

"Love this pussy." he groans before his mouth is back on yours.

"Say it's mine," he orders pulling back, he is towering over you again, one hand clutching your face to watch him watch you.

You only moan, equating his words to being in the moment even though they have your stomach doing flips.

"Say it's mine, baby, and I'll give you what you want."

It's like he hit a switch in you, brought out a side of you that you've never been able to release.

"It's yours," you coo, "all yours, only yours."

His eyes shine at your words, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

"Nobody can give it to you like me, they don't deserve it, been so good to you. Hmm. Can give you everything you want."

One hand travels down to your stomach, where he presses down, "Feel me in there?"

"yes." you gasp, eyes rolling back; the sex is no longer slow and sensual. He is pounding into you so hard that your body lurches up and down the bed, and your breast bounces with every thrust.

Lewis Hamilton is a dirty man, you conclude watching his lips fall open from the dirty smirk he'd had it in.

"Got something else to put in there." You clench around him tighter curses falling from his mouth as he stills inside of you.

You know he is only in the moment, this whole debacle started because of his admission of a praise kink, you know he's playing along with yours, he wants to get you there in the same way you want to get him there so you play along.

"I want it." you whine, "want it all."

Lewis thought it was impossible for him to get any hornier, but once again, you've proven him wrong.

"Want you to fill me up, want to be full of you." You play on his words from earlier. "Want all of you."

He moans once again, spreading you open. He is plowing into you. Loud grunts left his throat as he digs deeper and deeper into you. He can feel every crevice of your flesh as you swallow him.

"Gonna give you what you want, make you big and full, have you carrying my babies. Going to have what you always wanted, love."

Your eyes fall shut at his words in utter bliss.

He lays on top of you, the burn of your thighs spreading. His hands travel to your own, holding them on either side of your head. His head is nestled between the crook of your neck; he's sucking and licking along your neck. You feel him everywhere.

"mmph," you moan as he reaches and punches against your sweet spot over and over.

Lewis is so fucked out in a loving haze that he can't control the words tumbling from his lips onto your skin.

"Wanted this forever, so long." He whimpers, "Feel so good, only wanna feel you. Only wanted you."

You free one hand from his hold wrapping it around to rub at the curls at the nape of his neck. You want him to keep talking, keep feeding you the words you've waited your whole life for him to say. "I can give you everything you want, baby."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you can't tell if it's from the pleasure he's giving you or the words he's dribbling out.

"Taking me so well, fuck!" he sits up on his knees again, turning you over without pulling out of you; you're on all fours as he plows into you from behind.

"So mean, making me wait so long, letting me be with the wrong woman, should've been you." You clench around him eyes squeezing shut, you shouldn't enjoy these words as much as you do but you can't help it.

"Wanted it to be you, would've had our family by now, so many kids, so happy." You're literally shaking, the fire growing inside of you, making it impossible to ward off your second orgasm.

"Been looking for you in all these women, never were you, never could be. Fucking couldn't get hard without imagining your face. Always had to be you." He sounds so vulnerable and open behind you. You want to see his face so badly, and you want to watch him as he admits what you've always desired.

Like he read your mind, he flips you over again, nestling between your legs and pushing himself in again with a hiss, "Gotta see your face when you come, love."

You're on top of him, relishing in the way he looks up at you. Your thighs are placed on either side of him lifting over and over as he glides in and out of you.

He looks so beautiful, you think even if he is spitting out the most wild and lewd words you've ever had spoken to you. "Gonna empty this dick in you baby, give you my baby. Make you mine, all mine." He growls.

"Could've had this all along if you said something sooner, bunny. Would have had you feeling like this all of the time."

His hands are on your waist, lifting you up and down over him. You fall forward one hand holding you up and the other reaching down to cup his jaw. You press your lips over his, breathless pants traveling from one mouth to the other. The eye contact is intense as you stare each other down. His eyes literally sparkle as he fuck up into you, his mouth dropped open. You kiss him one last time before sitting up again and setting your own pace, "Fuck Lew, you feel so good."

You're bouncing on him at a much slower pace as his eyes fall closed and his grip tightens on your flesh.

You're not responsible for what you say when you cum, it's common knowledge, which is why when Lewis flips you over and barrels into you at a much softer pace you let his words carry no penalty, albeit the way they make your eyes water, albeit the way you return them truthfully.

It's so overwhelming you can't help the way the tears flow from your eyes and slide onto the sheets. He's cumming in spurts, hot and gooey, filling you to the brim. Lewis has never come so much. He lets out an array of grunts and moans. He's so out of it that he lets his words tumble out without a care in the world, and he means them wholly. He's fucking his cum into you, pushing it back in with his dick as you quiver around him.

"Love you, fuck, I fucking love you."

#lewis hamilton #x black reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #f1 #formula 1 #formual one #lewis hamilton imagine

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suugarbabe · 4 months ago

Text

drunken daydreams | s.b. x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of drinking, pining, fluff

a/n: little fun fact i found out, beer pong was invented in the 1950's?? also this is for week three of jinxed july <3

Hopeless. That is what it felt like to crush on Sirius Black. Hopeless because Sirius was, well…everything. He was charming beyond belief, even professors falling for his half turned smile and cheeky winks. He was absolutely gorgeous, unfairly so really, onyx hair that fell in messy tendrils no matter how many times he ran his ring glad fingers through it. His eyes were always playfully full of mischief, but if you truly paid attention to him (and you did) you could tell that they shifted just the slightest bit in shade depending on his mood. His mouth seemed to permanently be painted with a smirk unless someone was telling him ‘no’, then his powder pink lips would puff in a pout and who in their right mind could deny that look? (certainly not you).

When Lily asked you to spend a week at James’s family cabin with her over summer holiday you had originally said no. James’s cabin meant Sirius’s cabin since the latter now lived with the former; that and they were attached at the hip with no hope of prying them apart. Lily had pouted, begging you to say yes, but going only seemed like torture. Torture because it’d be a week essentially alone with Sirius as Lily and James would likely frequently find couple things to do, Marlene and Dorcus would be hiking everyday and Remus would seclude himself with ‘peace and quite for once’. Alone time with Sirius made you nervous because you were nearly, practically, almost one hundred percent sure that your feelings toward Sirius were not reciprocated.

But that did not stop Lily from employing the raven haired boy to get you to change your mind. Which is how you found yourself conveniently alone with Sirius in the train compartment on the ride back from Hogwarts. “Pretty please, you can’t not go, everyone’s going,” in classic fashion with his little pout and his eyes widened. You tried to avert your gaze from his, knowing if you looked too long you’d give in. But this tactic failed miserably as Sirius simply moved back into your view, “I’m literally begging here, love,” and oh how he looked so pretty begging. “Please say yes, I cannot hear James or Lils complain the whole week. I need you there.”

He needed you there. That’s what he had said. And that one phrase spun a slew of delusional scenarios in your mind that led you to agree to join the rest of the group for the week.

It wasn’t as bad as you originally anticipated in the beginning. The lot of you gathered at the Potter’s manor, utilizing the floo system for the trip to the cabin, that experience going surprisingly swimmingly for it being your first time. The first night at the cabin you guys decided on a bonfire. “It’s like christening the place,” James had said, with much encouragement from Sirius and much to the eye roll of Remus. “We’ll go get drinks started!” Lily grabbed your arm, pulling you up from your chair and back towards the door of the cabin, “any requests or all we good with surprises?”

James Dorcus and Remus laid out drink orders while Marlene said you could surprise her. You turned to Sirius as he spoke next, “You know my drink, don’t you love?” You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping the heat you felt wasn’t making itself prominent as a blush on your cheeks, “Firewhiskey with cola, right?” Sirius winked, nodding in confirmation and the swarm of butterflies in your stomach started humming.

Back in the kitchen Lily was practically vibrating with excitement. You let out a long sigh, “Something got you worked up Lils? Wanna share with the class?” Lily wore a small grin as she filled all the glasses with ice, “I’m just thinking about what I saw and if you saw it too.” You halted in filling Sirius's glass, resting both hands on the counter in front of you, “What do you think you saw? Because James’s googly eyes over you is basically a daily occurrence, I didn’t think it’d have you this excited still.” Lily rolled her eyes at your statement, “I’m very clearly talking about Sirius and you.”

You made a scrunched face at this, “There’s nothing between me and Sirius. Well, like we’re friends, obviously, but you know there’s nothing more.” Lily shrugged, a slight curl to her lips as she continued making drinks. “Lils, please. He doesn’t like me like that. It would never happen and honestly…” you grabbed a few glasses in your hands, “I’m coming to terms with that.” You were not coming to terms with it. But it would be far easier than having all your friends thinking you’re hopelessly pining after him. What doesn’t help is Lily’s next response, “I dunno, babes. I could see the two of you together.” She slid the back door open with her elbow before walking back onto the deck, calling out that drinks were ready.

That one comment had you reeling, overanalyzing every interaction and conversation you had ever had with Sirius. You barely even registered that he spoke to you when you handed him his drink before taking your seat in the lawn chair next to his. You glanced his way when you felt his stare after a moment, “Sorry, Siri, did you say something?” Sirius smiled sweetly at you, a hint of something you couldn’t read in his eyes, “Just a thanks for the drink, love.” The commonplace pet name had your cheeks aflame but you prayed to Merlin the light of the bonfire hid the evidence.

As the night went on and the drinks flowed, everyone was eventually corralled inside for what James called a “mandatory game of beer pong” after Lily agreed to play (and be his partner) with the promise that everyone would play ‘the muggle way’, no use of magic for assistance. Everyone agreed and placed their wands on the counter and paired up, you finding yourself partnered with Sirius. Remus stated he would be the officiant to “help keep Sirius and James in line and following the rules” much to their promises to play cleanly. “Ready, partner?” Sirius called you up to the table, dropping the ping pong ball in one of the cups closest to him. You nodded, a tight lip smile on your lips to try and help hide the nerves that were brewing inside.

You looked across the table at Lily and James, the red head trying to conceal her smirk as she looked from you to Sirius and back. You rolled your eyes with a slight smile before Sirius started smack talking James. “Oh you’re in for it now, Potter. You and your little Lilly flower are cute and all, but you’re no match for me and y/n/n here, isn’t that right, love?” Sirius held his hand out palm up, clearly waiting for you to slap it. You gave him a high five and a small nervous laugh, “Y-yeah, right.”

To your surprise Sirius was actually correct; James and Lily were horrible at beer pong, but you and Sirius looked like seasoned champions. The game against them went rather quickly, James sulking against Lilly on the couch as Marlene and Dorcus re-racked the red cups. This game proved to be a little more difficult, the girls being able to really go toe to toe with you and Sirius, you were down to two cups left to sink, while Marlene and Dorcus only had three cups. Marlene stood tall at the end of the table, ping pong ball in hand. She closed one eye, Dorcus semi-slurring encouragements to her before Marlene gave the ball a light toss.

You watched as the ball arched in the air coming down towards one of the last three cups. The ball began the swirl around the rim of the cup and your next actions were more on instinct than real knowledge or skill of the game. You bent down near the cup, giving a quick blow of air near the ball before watching the physics of the combination making the ball jump from the cup and land back onto the table. Sirius let out a gleeful noise of shock, whereas Marlene and Dorcas began protesting, “Hey! We said no magic! Remus, that’s a foul we get that cup right?!” Sirius, however, was quick to go to your defense, “Nuh-uh, there was no magic involved, that’s just how good y/n/n’s blowing abilities are!”

Your eyes widened in shock at his words, Dorcas rattling off a teasing remark before Sirius could correct himself, “Oh? And how would you know about her blowing abilities, Black?” The drinks were getting to you slightly, a small giggle bubbling from your throat as Sirius tried his best to defend himself, “I, well…erm, that’s not what I meant…I-I mean,” he turned to face you, his eyes half lidded as they made contact with yours, “Don’t you look at me like that, love.” A lazy smile adorned your face, “I’m not looking at you any kind of way, Siri.”

Sirius shook his head in disagreement, “You’re giving me those eyes.” You batted your eyelashes a few times, “I’m not giving you any special eyes. Besides, if you’re wanting to know about my abilities, you can just tell me.” Sirius’s eyes widened before he let out a huff of air through his nose, “No, I don’t, I want to- I mean, you did the, the thing- and then Dorcus said what she said and so I just - I, erm, n-no I’m good.” While you laughed a little at his stumbling, you couldn’t deny the pit growing in your stomach the longer he tried to find nice ways to essentially reject your playful advance.

Luckily you didn’t have to hide your dejection for long as you and Sirius lost to the girls and now your solemn look could be explained by the loss of the game instead of the loss of any chance you had with Sirius. You gave him a half-hearted smile before going to find a seat on one of the couches as James and Lily went to play against the winners. You only half paid attention the game, every interaction with Sirius from the night playing back over and over in your mind. Why did he have to be so bloody hard to read?

To even get you on this trip in the first place he said he needed you there. But you don’t speak two words to each other in any capacity until everyone arrived at James’s manor. Even there it was only long glances, which could have been strictly initiated by you. Although you could have sworn he was already looking your way one or two times when you made eye contact. Here at the cabin you knew his drink, because of course you did. Was he teasing you earlier when he asked?

But he also winked at you. And he’s been calling you love, and made that comment about your ‘blowing skills’. But he does make dirty jokes a lot. You really would be a perfect couple though, all of your friends told you so whenever you talked about him, sometimes even when you didn’t talk about him. People wouldn’t say that to you just to be mean to you, I mean, these were your best friends. But he also essentially rejected your flirtatious advances. Why was this so hard to-

A ring clad hand was waving in front of your face causing you to blink several times before refocusing on the object of your delusional thoughts. Sirius had his ever present charming grin, a special glint in his hooded eyes, “Caught you daydreaming about me again, didn’t I, love?” Maybe it was the liquid courage, but the words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Don’t be mean, Sirius.”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “What do you-” Rather ungracefully, you cut him off, “Just because you know I have a crush on you doesn’t mean you can tease me like everyone else does. It’s honestly humiliating enough.” Sirius’s once smirking features changed to that of confusion, “It’s humiliating to have a crush on me?” You groaned in frustration, covering your face with your hands before looking down at your feet, “Yes, Sirius, it’s humiliating to have a raging crush on someone that clearly has no interest or feelings toward me beyond platonic friendship.”

The cool metal of his rings felt like ice against your flamed skin as he forced you to look at him, “Who said my feelings were strictly platonic?” You opened your mouth to respond before quickly closing it again. You sat up straighter then, Sirius’s hand dropping from your chin, “Well, you did, you said that. Back during the game, when Dorcus was teasing us and I asked if that’s what you wanted. You basically stumbled over a way to tell me you were uninterested in my advances.”

His melodic laugh filled your ears. You were ready to smack him for being so rude before he started giving you a viable response. “Sweetheart…I wasn’t trying to reject you,” you looked up to meet his eyes once more as he continued, “I responded that way because you had me flustered, you…kind of always make me feel that way.” He scratched the back of his head nervously, “I didn’t really know how to respond properly when Dorcus made that remark. And, erm, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable by admitting I probably, erm, wouldn’t mind finding out how good your,” he gulped slightly, “abilities are.”

Your gaze fell to his lips before meeting his eyes once more; Sirius bit his lip, trying to hold back what you were sure was a shit-eating smirk. His hand cupped your cheek gently, “Can I?” You gave a small nod as you leaned in, Sirius closing the remaining distance before capturing your lips with his. This was not a fiery, passionate, kiss. But soft, gentle and sweet. His lips slotted against yours as though they were always meant to be there.

His fingers entangled slightly in your hair, pulling you closer to him. You braced yourself with a hand on his thigh. A small whimper drifted from Sirius’s throat at the extra physical contact, wanting to fuel you further. What felt like two small, solid objects pelted both you and Sirius, causing you both to pull away from each other in confusion. “Don’t partners usually only make out when they win a game, not when they lose?” Marlene teased lightly. You looked over at Lilly who gave you a wink. One thing was for sure, you were not going to doubt her again.

#jinxedjuly #jinxed july #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius black imagine #marauders au #marauders era #marauders x you

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attapullman · 9 months ago

Text

Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

If you liked this, you may also enjoy on our syllabus Bob From Pi Kapp.

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head.

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action.

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?"

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester.

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed.

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg.

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse.

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily.

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester.

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!”

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch.

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house.

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare?

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face.

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats.

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest.

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe.

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?”

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them.

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself.

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher.

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder.

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.”

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you.

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent.

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good.

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind.

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right.

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands.

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses.

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out.

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light.

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

Want more Frat Cowboy Bob? Hang out with Bob From Pi Kapp!

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

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Quick! Info dump about your favorite blorbo!

König headcanons

NSFW content below the cut, 18 + only (These apply to yandere König as well, the toxic stuff is marked with a red flag 🚩)

Does like 50 crunches and 50 pushups first thing in the morning when he wakes up, as he has done since he was a teenager.

Will fix everything from cars to furniture. If the door is creaking he will oil the hinges immediately. Actually, he will treat every single thing in life as a problem... A problem he will fix.

He's great at math and physics and has vast amounts of knowledge about mechanics, thermodynamics, even things like quantum theory and other complex astronomy stuff.

He's completely clueless when it comes to following trends and memes. You have to explain every other tiktok to him. He rarely uses emojis but when he does, it's awkward and slightly intimidating because König doesn't know the hidden meanings behind them. If you send him an eggplant or peach emoji he asks if you need veggies from the store.

Loves your cooking (even if it's just microwaved mac and cheese). If you start to feed this man, you'll never get rid of him.

This is your classic mama’s boy who never had to learn how to cook and then went to the army and got used to the facility taking care of him so… yeah. Doesn't know how to cook but will try to help in any way he can! König is very excited to see you’re making food and wanders into the kitchen like “What are we making today?” You can try and give him a chopping board, an onion and a knife, but this poor man doesn't even peel the onion unless you tell him he has to remove the outer layer first...

Eats like a horse. Is secretly afraid that you run out of food. Goes to the fridge and if it's half full, he will not take the snack he was supposed to have, only comments: "The fridge looks empty." (It's not a passive aggressive statement, he's just worried.)

Also: everytime there's a crisis somewhere – he follows the news neurotically – König starts to prep. There's a month's worth of food stashed in one of the cupboards at all times. He also preps fuel, propane, medicine and the like.

Ruins all the fun when you're playing board games because he fusses about the rules so much. König holds the rulebook in his hand through the whole game and double-checks every single thing.

He's very clumsy, sometimes hits his head on the door frame when he's in a hurry or visiting a new place. He can't stay still either, always shakes his leg when he’s sitting. König needs a lot of exercise when he's not deployed to get all that energy and frustration out.

This has been discussed earlier but yeah, König even drops his mags sometimes in the field because he's too excited. He's a very capable martial artist though. Has done Savate, Escrima and Pekiti-Tirsia Kali and is very agile and precise with the double kali sticks he carries to field sometimes. Suddenly his clumsiness disappears when he has to knife someone, kick someone in the head or beat them to death with those sticks.

This is the reason König fucked up his sniper dreams too: having to control his breath, lie still for long amounts of time, then take aim and shoot a rifle vs. aiming during an adrenaline high, giving a tight spurt or two with his SMG… The latter just comes naturally to him! If you ask him how he managed to take down a human trafficking cell all alone König will say he simply "got carried away."

König goes to the gym a lot. Gets back super pumped and with an urgent need to make love. But not before he's had a cold shower! It's almost like a ritual: he has to torture himself with weights and cold water first before he can have his prize (= access to a woman)

Wakes you up in the middle of the night because he started to worry about petty, stupid things and then got a lil horny. Humps your leg or your back very, very slowly while grunting in your ear: "Hey... Hey. Are you sleeping…?" (Like. Yes, König, I was but I'm not anymore, thanks for asking)

Asks what kind of fantasies you have all of a sudden while you two are cuddling. Asks very detailed questions about them too. If you ask him what kind of fantasies he has in return, König will tense up and then say he doesn't really know, perhaps something like… a blowjob in the forest… And somehow you just know that his real fantasies are so perverse you don't even want to know more about them.

If you "nag" or yell at him, he might get a boner.

If you notice and get offended, ask: "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?!' König will freeze and look at you with a bewildered, obsessed stare and go: "Ja..?" while the boner situation in his pants gets visibly worse.

🚩 Would never go to bed before you've settled your argument. The problem is that it's very difficult for König to apologize because he always thinks he's in the right and that you simply need some time to come to that conclusion too. If you give him the silent treatment he will eventually come to you, gets all touchy and asks surprisingly demurely: "Are you still angry with me?"

🚩 The minute you forgive him or decide it was a stupid argument anyways, the demure puppy act disappears. König thinks he won and that it's time for some makeup sex ❤️

Has like the longest cock known to man. He has actual trouble finding comfortable underwear to fit that beast into. It's beautiful but intimidating, uncut, smooth and sleek. Not too thick but certainly not thin either. He likes to keep himself tidy down there too so the lack of hair makes this murder weapon look even bigger.

You two occasionally break furniture while having sex. It's mainly his fault (he gets carried away). He's very upset about it afterwards though, looks at the destruction he caused, muttering "Scheisse…" while rubbing the back of his neck. Then he tries to fix it while you're still there with your legs shaking and in need of aftercare.

If you remind him that he has other duties first, perhaps whimper his name in frustration, König will apologize and carry you to bed. He gives you that precious aftercare with unwavering passion and attention every time you ask for it ❤️ He's just a little clueless sometimes (König is also neuroatypical, either has AD/HD or falls somewhere in the autism spectrum)

🚩 Hates condoms with an intense passion. You're practically forced to take birth control pills or whatever so that he can cum inside you. This man's whining will ultimately gain a level that's absolutely ridiculous if you don't.

The first time you do it without the rubber, he sounds like he's about to cry. He tells you a hundred times how good it feels, and won't pull out until he grows soft and is kind of forced to do so. For a man who's never even heard of a breeding kink, he seems vehement about keeping his load inside you.

🚩Grunts and whispers loving but obsessive things in your ear while making love to you. You're mine, Say it, Promise that you're mine, I don't want to live without you, Why do you feel so good? at first… but as he approaches his peak, König switches to German. You have no clue what he’s saying, but from the way he spits those sentences through gritted teeth you get the feeling that it must be something desperate and that perhaps it's a blessing you don't understand his native tongue...

🚩🚩If you leave your phone on the table he tries to stalk it and check the notifications. He's so jealous it's unreal, if he sees you receive a message from some other guy König will start a circus. He needs to know all about your connection with this man. After that, he wants you to go through your contacts and show him how many guys there are and tell him what your affiliations are with them. If you're on social media König wants to go through your friends/those you follow. You have to give an account who they are and why you follow them.

🚩🚩🚩 You get a feeling he's forming a list of people he has to kill if you don't tell him they're just a cousin or something 💀

#answered #könig headcanons #könig x you #könig mw2 #its not quick but its an infodump

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wcnderlnds · 2 months ago

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spooky scary movies | peter maximoff

✧ fluff/angstober day one | scary movies ✧

・❥・warnings: peter is a lil suggestive bc he’s peter and mentions of chucky ig. ・❥・ authors note: a day later than i wanted but we here. also trying out a new format 💕

“Sweet! What snacks we got?” Peter jumped over the back of the couch, sitting down next to you. It took him no time at all to start rummaging through the snacks you’d placed on the small coffee table.

Somehow, you had managed to convince Peter to have a scary movie marathon with you. Spooky season was finally here and there was no better way to kick things off than with a marathon of all the best spooky movies. It was even more of a necessity when Peter had told you he hadn’t seen most of the ones you’d listed off to him. How could he not have seen the classics like Friday The 13th or Nightmare on Elm Street?

Peter wasn’t exactly the type of guy that sat and watched movies. He had tried — he had really tried so many times but sitting still for such a long period of time wasn’t in his repertoire. Focusing on just one thing for more than ten minutes was hard, he constantly had to be on the go, had to be doing something. Sitting down and watching something for almost two hours seemed like torture to him. It was so slow. Too slow but for you, he’d get his shit together and give it a go even if it pained him. Besides, it was worth it to see the wide smile on your face. Your excitement made him feel all gross and tingly inside — he hated the feeling and loved it all at the same time.

“Peter,” you scolded him, batting his hands away. “Don’t finger all the food before the movies even started.”

“I’d like to finger someth-” You cut him off with your hand over his mouth before he could even finish his sentence.

“Behave,” you blushed, moving your hand away when he licked your palm. “Gross.”

He snickered, quickly snatching a Twinkie off the table. He leaned back against the couch, ripping it open and almost stuffing the whole thing in his mouth. All you could do was roll your eyes. Typical Peter but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

The silver haired speedster had had your heart for the last six months. It had been a slow blossoming romance. It had started with lingering looks, hugs that lasted longer than they should’ve until one day he had ran right up to you and, in a flurry of words, had asked you on a date. From there things had only grown and here you were now.

Peter’s arms were stretched out on the back of the couch, one of his legs crossed over the over. He looked like the epitome of comfortable as he finished chewing his Twinkie. “We’re watching the one with the weird doll first, right?”

“Chucky and yes, we are.” She hit play on the movie. Peter had insisted they watch this one first because the idea of a killer doll seemed hilarious to him.

An hour into the movie and you were cuddled into his side with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. His leg was bobbing up and down, his fingers drumming on the arm of the couch. It was getting harder and harder for him to stay still but the fact he was trying for you warmed your heart. You looked at him, his eyes were focused on the movie until you placed your hand on his bouncing knee.

“Hey,” he smiled down at you.

“You hate this, don’t you?”

“What? No! I…. it’s just hard for me to stay still but I’m enjoying it, promise. Being here with you, watching this freaky little doll is a blast. Promise, babe.”

You searched his eyes for any sign that he was just telling you what you wanted to hear. When you found none, you cupped his cheek. “You’re too good to me, Peter Maximoff.”

“Pfft, shutup.”

“Make me.”

Peter grinned. In one swift movement, his lips were on yours in a soft, gentle kiss. His hands gripped your hips to pull you into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck as you settled into him. His tongue traced along your bottom lip and it took no time at all for you to part your lips, his tongue meeting yours. The movie was completely forgotten now. As the kiss grew more passionate, Peter slid his hands under your shirt, holding your waist. A content sigh passed his lips briefly before they captured yours again.

It was very, very reluctantly that he pulled away. His forehead rested gently on yours, his eyes closed until he spoke and ruined the moment in only the way he could. “So, this Chucky doll… he’s totally real, right?”

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver x reader #flufftober #this is garbage bye

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justwinginglife · 2 months ago

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How Soshiro Hoshina Broke The Internet

Just a silly lil fic based off of a conversation I had with @ryescapades and @minasfwoopyponytail, thanks for indulging my goofy ideas! We love our precious baby Soshiro. Once again, mentions of mature content, but no explicit detail, we're here for a silly time not a sexy one.

“You’re 50 Shades of Stupid and this is your dumbest idea yet.”

Hoshina grumbled and grumbled, but it didn’t stop Narumi from eagerly setting up the camera and chuckling to himself. “Hey, you lost the bet; this is your punishment, own up to it.”

If it had been just the two of them alone, he might’ve socked Narumi in the jaw. Might’ve declared the bet faulty and stomped off. Might’ve challenged him to another dare with double the stakes to distract Narumi and to avoid paying the price of his last lost challenge.

But Okonogi was there as a witness, Captain Ashiro was there for moral support (she wanted to take pictures of this whole ordeal and claim it was for the good of the Defense Force), and you were there to make sure he didn’t storm off, with your big brown eyes that he fell victim to every time.

If Hoshina even looked like he might bail, Narumi would call out to you, “Y/N! Looks like your man’s a big wimp. If you ever wanna know what a real man is like, my door’s always open,” and then Hoshina would stare him down, storms in his eyes, thunder in his throat, as he swore misfortune upon the Narumi line for the next 70 generations if he so much as breathed near you. And Narumi would laugh, knowing he had Hoshina right where he wanted him.

It didn’t help that you were also curious to see this all play out, so whenever Hoshina would start to sulk, you’d dance your fingers through his hair and murmur against his ear, “But baby… I wanna see it too. Do you think, maybe, you could do it just for me? Please, ‘Shiro? I’ll love you eternally.”

So he begrudgingly put on the bunny ears.

When Ashiro snapped a picture of him, Hoshina cursed her family name too. Then he threatened to tell Kafka every embarrassing story he knew about her until she put her phone away. But her hand hovered by her pocket as though she was just waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

Narumi finally had everything set up the way he wanted it; all Hoshina had to do was dance. Apparently dancing was all the rage on TeekTook these days.

Hoshina flipped Narumi off but when the music turned on, he danced as promised. And when Okonogi laughed so hard they had to redo the take, he made a mental note to curse her family line as well.

Finally, the video came to its conclusion and his debt was paid. Hoshina collapsed on the ground, exhausted from the shame of it all. Narumi snickered, but you shooed him off, even bothering to kick the girls out of the room too. Then you knelt down on the floor in front of him and took his face in your hands.

“See, all done, baby. That wasn’t so hard.” You murmured as you planted kisses over every square inch of his face.

He accepted your kisses but he still pouted. “Easy for you to say. That was worse than going to battle.”

You nibbled on his ear and trailed kisses down his neck. “Aww, don’t say that, love. You looked so sexy dancing like that. I might be your number one fan.”

He yanked you closer to him. “Yeah? Keep saying things like that and I might just take you right here, in Narumi’s office.”

“It would serve him right, don’t you think? Besides, I think your number one fan deserves an autograph. Maybe you could write it out to me with your tongue? Hmm?” Your voice was dripping with innocence though your intentions were anything but.

And when Narumi finally came back to his office to find the smell of sweat and sex stenching the air, to find his chair had been broken from exertion, to find his desk was sticky with slick, he cursed Hoshina and then cursed himself for not thinking up a more torturous punishment.

Narumi’s displeasure continued when he awoke the next morning and discovered that Hoshina’s dancing video had gone viral, but not in the way that he’d wanted. Everyone was calling him the sexiest captain in the Defense Force. Narumi snapped his phone in half after reading all the comments in favor of Hoshina.

When you got your hands on this information, Hoshina should’ve run. You were far too devious not to use this to your advantage. But he fell victim to the curl of your lashes as they batted at him and the next thing he knew, you were setting up the camera for another video.

“R-remind me why we’re doing this again?” He asked meekly as he watched you flit about, prepping the equipment. He could feel an impending sense of doom settling in, but you were so adorable that he found it impossible to resist you. He could only hope you’d go easy on him.

“Baby, you can’t let your followers down.” You said matter-of-factly, still fiddling with the camera. “Think of this as boosting citizen morale.”

“Please, I don’t want to dance again,” He pleaded.

You took him in your arms and ran your hands up and down his back until he relaxed. “No more dancing, I promise. How about we just do a trend, okay?”

He sighed. “Do I have to?”

“I’ll let you try that position on me again, the one we almost broke Narumi’s desk with.”

He sat up straight. “Fine. Fine. Strap the mic to me. What are we doing?”

You handed him a script. “Just need you to say this and then we’re all done, easy peasy.”

He took the paper from you and peered at the words. His brows furrowed in confusion as he skimmed the page. “Okay, what does ‘very mindful, very demure’ mean and why am I saying it?”

Several videos later -he was unsure how you’d managed to coax multiple out of him when he’d only originally promised you one- his views had doubled and he’d acquired a fairly large fanbase, much to Narumi’s dismay. With every follower that he accumulated, you found yourself brewing more and more schemes. Just how much could you make him do? Just how much would he let you make him do?

It was too early to convince him to wear a maid outfit… but maybe if you convinced him to wear other things and his followers liked it, he’d eventually cave in. You’d always wanted to see him in a compression shirt and now that you’d been given this opportunity, you couldn’t waste it. You bought him one and presented it to him under the guise of wanting to use it in a “get ready with me” video.

When he first put on the shirt, you almost forgot about your goal of getting him into a maid uniform. In fact, you almost dropped the camera. But you got ahold of yourself, gripped the camera tight, and panned over every ripple of his muscles in slow motion. After views skyrocketed, you convinced him that he needed to do a “get ready with me” video every day.

Washing his face made the viewers go crazy, because he’d run his fingers through his hair to get it out of the way. Eating breakfast made the viewers go crazy, because he’d lick his lips. And of course, the viewers would go absolutely feral when he’d put on that damn compression shirt that by now all of them knew well. You knew how they felt. You were lucky you were hidden behind the camera so he couldn’t see just how much you were drooling, just how much you were enjoying yourself. How much you were enjoying him.

And his damn intros killed you every time. It took all your willpower not to pounce on him because of how fucking adorable he was.

“Hi guys. It’s me. Again. Don’t know how this is interesting to you all, but I’m back with another video, I guess?”

“Good morning, all. Turns out you really liked the last video. Not sure why, but I suppose here’s another.”

“Greetings. Um. I guess you’re getting ready with me… again?”

When he started to get weary of doing the same video over and over again, claiming that there was no way that people on the internet actually wanted to keep watching him do such mundane things everyday, you suggested doing a poll. Make his site more interactive. Ask the people what they want.

The comment section blew up with requests for more compression shirts and his fans even sent him the money to buy a whole wardrobe full of them. So now he had compression shirts of every color and he was still unsure why. They were just shirts to him.

But you convinced him to give the people what they wanted. You told him if anything, he could consider this as part of his job, because he was advertising the Defense Force. You could tell he only barely believed you when he reluctantly agreed to more videos.

Eventually, he got camera shy and wanted you to be in videos with him.

This worked out perfectly for you.

From the very first video you starred in with him, you had a maid uniform on. You thought the least you could do was get the idea in his head. He questioned it but you told him you were trying to draw the attention away from him so he could feel more comfortable on camera. He adored you for it. And he loved the way you looked - you knew because he would steal glances at you in between takes and sometimes even during takes- so he didn’t think too hard about it at the time.

Then you did more and more videos with him, all in the maid uniform, and when you’d worn out almost the entire catalog of TeekTok trends at your disposal, you finally proposed the idea of him wearing a maid uniform.

He turned bright red.

You almost kissed him for it.

“But w-why? No one wants to see that.” He squeaked out.

“Trust me, baby, the viewers will love it.”

The red traveled from his cheeks to his ears. “But w-why?” He repeated again.

“Because you’ll look so good, I promise.” You rubbed calming circles into his palm.

He bit his lip. “D-do I h-have to?”

You faked a pout. “I mean… you don’t have to. It’s just,” You sighed dramatically, “I’ve been wearing one this whole time to make you feel better about being on camera and now I’m getting a little shy… it would just make me so happy if you wore it with me.” You peered up at him with the same big, brown eyes that always ensnared him without fail.

Then you got on your knees in front of him.

He choked at the sight of you.

You crawled in between his legs, nuzzling up against his thigh. “I just want to match you baby. I just want everyone to know we’re together and we love each other. Don’t you love me baby? Don’t you wanna match with me?”

He gulped. “I-I… I s-suppose if it would… if it would make you happy… I could maybe… do it. For you. Just the once.”

Your eyes lit up. “Really? You’ll do it? I love you so much baby, I’ll be right back!” And then you procured for him the maid outfit that had been patiently waiting for him in your closet. He didn’t even dare to question how you’d retrieved it so fast. You were so sweet and innocent, he could hardly accuse you of masterminding this entire situation even though that was exactly what you’d done.

When he put on the uniform and you saw him standing there, cheeks tinged with pink, thumbs twiddling nervously, dress fluttering from the fan, you couldn’t hold back anymore. He was too adorable. You kissed him.

And then you pinned a mic to him, turned the camera on, and made history.

#soshiro hoshina #kaiju no. 8 #anime #hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #oneshot #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic

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olenvasynyt · 4 months ago

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Random Lucien headcanons, let’s go!

1. Lucien’s favorite alcoholic drink is whiskey. He likes old-fashioned, Summer-style whiskey lemonade, whiskey sours, Autumn-style hot toddy with cinnamon and honey, in his coffee, etc

2. He has insomnia and struggles to fall asleep. Probably gets 4-5 hours a sleep on a good day.

3. Is a big morning person: will call 8 am “sleeping in”. (Day Court heir rises with the sun!)

4. He is very fashionable (of course, we all know this) but he loves wearing mismatched socks. He has the biggest assortment of socks ever, including the fancy dress socks, hiking socks, fuzzy sleeping socks, and socks so old he sews patches in them

5. Knows how to sew and is pretty good at it. LoA taught him embroidery and he’ll embroider random leaves on his clothes when he’s bored.

6. Collects trinkets and always has a random assortment of things in his pocket: a cool stone he found; a key he stole from his brother and refuses to give it back after 200 years; a gem that popped off his knife handle; a rabbit’s foot, etc. He’s a lil crow for sure

7. Loves sleeping in hammocks. One of his go-tos when he goes camping by himself

8. Can juggle. Yes, I know, but picture him shirtless with his hair draping over his bare chest, his muscled arms moving elegantly as he juggles 5 flaming balls of fire 7 feet above his head…

9. Could not sit still as a kid. He was always running around and fiddling with stuff, kicking his feet when he sits, etc

10. Has his ears pierced (tbh I headcanon that most fae have their ears pierced. Fancy, excessive is a High Fae fashion)

11. Loves interior design. Constantly argues with Vassa about how to decorate the manor they occupy in the human lands; he HATES her taste

11.5. Modern headcanon: Lucien loves thrifting and always looks for vintage furniture, wall decor, etc at second-hand stops and estate sales.

12. Never liked hunting as a kid (family hunts were always torture for him) but he grew to appreciate it as a survival skill, as well as a way to enjoy and respect nature.

13. Was raised to worship the Mother, but disliked how his father’s court used it to oppress people. Lady of Autumn is religious and taught him the kind and true side of religion. The Mother and the Cauldron became a way for him to connect with his mother, especially after he ran from Autumn and couldn’t see her.

14. His love language is gifts (obviously) but also physical touch. He loves giving massages and can warm up his hands with fire magic to give heated massages for cold feet, hands, etc. He is clingy and loves to hold hands and cuddle.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #lucien headcanons #acotar #these are all happy ones but I have a SHIT TON of sad ones 😀

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 1 year ago

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K follow me Astarion just sees tav like loving on children wherever they go and hes like?????

And tavs like ive always wanted my own child but i didn't wabt to ask you with every

This sends poor starion into a crisis does he was children how many

I think I have followed you. Let's see!

So for this one we got a lil time jump, ambiguous and vague setting and timelines with game spoilers present. M/F pairing because that is my go to and pregnancy is mentioned. Vampiric pregnancy also so there is some weirdness there (i made it up no idea if it's dnd accurate). Vague Tav backstory of a wonderful mother and going off to become a cleric.

Astarion was well used to your antics by this point. You had a severe lack of instincts linked to self-preservation, which led to a consistent pattern of doing, frankly, stupid shit. Stupid, but kind. Nothing that Astarion hadn't adapted to, after nearly two years of being attached at the hip you became pretty attuned to your lover's personality.

He could even go as far as to say that he had grown to love your annoying predilection for pious morality. Perhaps he loved talking you out of certain virtuous dangers more, but still. He appreciated who you were, he adored who you were. But Astarion was no saint, despite his insistence on attaching himself to one.

Which is exactly why he was far from amused when you signed him up to babysit a couple of brats. All for acquittances he barely cared about.

But you at least had the good grace to look guilty, "I didn't mean to! But she looked so tired and she said their anniversary was coming up and it's not like we got anything for their wedding-"

That was a nice try, one that Astarion wasn't falling for, "We didn't know of their existence when they got married darling. Just because I can't remember their names doesn't mean you can trick me."

"I'm not trying to trick you!" You whined, arms crossed as you pouted. It sure felt like a trick, especially when Astarion knew that you were well-aware how easily he fell for your sulking. Adorable little monster that you were, "It's only three kids and a baby for one night, it won't be that bad! You don't even have to help-"

Astarion rolled his eyes as he sat next to you on the bed, "I didn't say I wouldn't help."

That seemed to do the trick to get the pout off of your face. You perked up immediately, looking at him like you couldn't quite believe it, "Really?"

"Yes, really," Astarion sighed as you tugged you closer. Sure he liked to bitch, but he really would do anything for you. Even extremely annoying things like this, "I'm not going to sit back and feed you to the wolves."

"They're not wolves! The oldest is barely five," You laughed as you let him manhandle you, settling you into his lap, "And I am sorry, I really wasn't thinking. I promise it won't happen again."

Astarion doubted that, not when he was well-versed of your weak spot for children. No matter where you went you couldn't help but fawn over them, not to mention the insane lengths you would go to keep any child safe. It was a complete and utter blind spot, your kindness extending to them all, even the little scam artists and hellions.

It was sweet, if not extremely worrying at first. Astarion had been terrified of you finding out his past. The things that he had been forced to do, the innocents whose lives he had destroyed. But not only did you find out, you were forced to see it. Both of you were, and it had been worse than anything Astarion could have imagined. He had always found a slight comfort knowing that those he captured would at least die quickly, that at the very least they wouldn't suffer the same agonizing fate as he, just an agonizing death. But no, even that small comfort had been a lie. The horror of finding them all down there has yet to be matched. He had never felt more self-loathing, more pure disgust than the moment he had found those children, tortured and pale, all because of him.

How you didn't see him for the wretched thing he was after all that, Astarion wasn't sure. But he was grateful. You were too good for him. A fact that he was devastatingly aware of, but that wasn't going to stop him from keeping you.

He still thinks about it on occasion, despite the fact that he had done all he could to right his wrongs. They all at least had a chance now to have a life worth living, Astarion could only hope that it would be used. Their future was out of his hands now, a small comfort.

But despite his complicated feelings towards children, he was more than capable of handling them for one evening. And in all honesty, he truly didn't have to do much. He was on self-mandated baby duty, because of course you had to help out the infant that would scream bloody murder unless it was being held. Keeping her tucked against him was a move of self-preservation, if he ever wanted to retain his hearing.

Most of the night was spent amused as he watched you entertain a gaggle of toddlers. You were so... creative with the ways you could defuse their antics. It came to you so naturally, nearly like you were a born mother yourself. It wasn't exactly surprising that you were fantastic with children, he had seen it time and time again. Arabella, Mol, Yenna, all of which still wrote you letters, visited occasionally. Staying forever attached, even from a distance.

Now that Astarion thought about it, it was odd that you weren't a mother. Odder still that you hadn't never even brought up the possibility of having children together. You were usually so open with your wants and always encouraging the same from him. Just one more thing he loved about you. But... why hadn't it been mentioned? Astarion had always assumed it was because you didn't truly want any of your own, that you enjoyed their fun innocence while avoiding the more laborious responsibility of raising them.

Though watching you take care of them all, changing diapers and negotiating silly arguments with a soft smile of your face had him rethinking his assumption.

"You're good with them," Astarion said eventually after you had successfully set the older three down for the night, the baby still stubbornly clinging to him, "I don't think there's a child we've met that doesn't adore you."

You laughed quietly, walking over to kiss him softly on the cheek. Your eyes wandered to the sleeping infant in his arms, still holding a piece of his shirt in it's little fist, "You don't seem to be too bad with them either."

"Newborns don't know any better," Astarion dismissed as he tried to put her down in their borrowed crib. Tried and failed, considering how the thing immediately started to whine the second he attempted to pry it's little hand away.

Oh for fuck's sake. Astarion wasn't even going to try and argue. Instead he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall into the crib with her, seemingly doing the trick of stopping her from waking completely.

When he turned back you were staring at him with soft eyes, looking lovestruck at the simple act of him laying a child down, "Looks like she has pretty good taste to me."

"I don't think your judgment should be trusted," Astarion huffed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand to drag you to the bedroom. He glanced back at you, his heart nearly skipping a beat from the sweet way you kept looking at him. It had his mind wandering again, those questions still nagging him.

Questions that he didn't have the courage to ask until dead of night, when he had you half asleep against his bare chest, "Have you ever thought of having children?"

He hadn't meant to blurt that out in the middle of the night, but Astarion apparently had a knack for starting important conversations at inconvenient times. Not that you minded.

You just cuddled into him closer, nodding against him with a sigh, "I've always wanted my own children. My own mother, Gods bless her soul, made it all sound so magical. Pregnancy, the early years, puberty, all of it. She loved it all. And I guess it rubbed off on me. It used to be all I could think about, before real life got in the way."

Astarion listened, a little annoyed at himself for not putting the pieces together sooner. You had talked so lovingly about your late parents, how you always wanted to be like your mother. Of course you would want children. How had he not connected the dots?

"But then I went off to the temple," You continued, "I completed my training, went off into the world to do good, blah, blah, blah. You know the story."

"So you grew out of the idea?" Astarion asked.

"Not exactly," You admitted, sounding a little guilty, "But I would never ask that of you love, it's not something you have to worry about."

That-what?

Astarion stared down at you, brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I know that the topic of children is... difficult for you. Considering everything you've been through-"

"I think you mean to say everything I've inflicted on others," Astarion interrupted, unwilling to allow himself grace. Especially when it came to the children of the Gur, "It was much worse for them than me."

You nodded, knowing better than to try and fight him on that particular topic, "I understand, but my point is that I can live without them. You're all I need."

It was comforting to hear, an immediate balm to a brand new set of insecurities that Astarion hadn't been prepared for. But even so... he hated the idea of you sacrificing even more for him. It felt wrong, "But-"

"But nothing," You interrupted softly, setting a quick kiss to his mouth, I'm serious Astarion, you don't need to worry. I'm happy, I love you, and everything is fine."

"I love you too," Astarion murmured, at a loss to say anything else. But the conversation didn't end there.

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about it, even long after the temporary children were sent back home. ou seemed so... sure that he didn't want children, and a week ago he probably would have agreed. But that was back before he knew that he was actively keeping you away from something you wanted. Something you had dreamed about since you were a child. And it felt wrong to be the reason for that, so, so wrong.

He didn't even know if his true feelings on the matter were real. He didn't want children for many of the same reasons he never wanted a partner. The attachment to another was dangerous, he was beyond unequipped to deal with others, let alone care for them, and the entire ideology behind love was ripe for manipulation and heart break. But then he met you and everything changed. Suddenly, caring for another didn't feel like a weakness, it felt like the strongest aspect of his entire self. Taking care of you wasn't an unwanted duty, it was intimacy. Something that he now craved. If all of those steadfast ideals could fall apart simply through meeting you, whose to say he could even trust himself when it came the thoughts around having a child?

Would having one truly be so bad? A little piece of the two of you, alive in the world? And perhaps children were annoying but... Astarion would be lying if he said he didn't have a soft spot for them. He had kept his distance before, but now he was fully confident that he wasn't a danger, no with Cazador burned to nothing bus ash and his own bloodlust well controlled. And it's not as if he was incapable of being a father, worse men than him did it everyday.

It was a confusing place to be, this tightwire of indecisiveness. Confusing enough for him to start a bit of research. He was vaguely aware that it was possible for his kind to breed, but finding out the details was disheartening, to say the least. First he had to parse out the different horror stories of babes eating their way out of their mother's wombs with actual facts, which wasn't exactly pleasant. But the truth was that it was more than possible for the two of you to have child together. It had the potential to either be as noneventful as any pregnancy, with the cavate that the babe coming out looking slightly... dead wouldn't be a permanent state of being. Or it could be as risky as carrying a child could be, with pains and complications galore, even legitimate worries of internal bleeding from the wretched thing prematurely growing claws. Not to mention the occasional, intense blood lust that could occur, an experience that Astarion would prefer you didn't have to go to.

Looking into the reality of the choice didn't help as much as he had assumed it would. If anything it just made the whole situation more real. Even if he wasn't a vampiric spawn, childbirth was risky. Maybe not as risky for you considering how Astarion would move the heavens and hells to get you the best care possible, but still. The thought of you passing, leaving him alone with the child you wanted and would never see, would destroy him. Completely and utterly.

But then again... there was the magical alternative of everything working out just fine. The two of you were both beyond lucky in that regard, considering how you'd overcome mind flayer parasites and fought and won against a near god. It was more than possible that everything would be fine, that you would have a beautiful pregnancy that would end in an even more amazing child. Then two would become three, a family of his very own.

That... didn't sound too bad. Astarion was torn. On one hand, he was almost certain that he was willing to go through with it. Not just because he loved you and wanted you to be happy, though it was the main reason. But also because... he could be a part in making something good. A child that would never suffer the way he did, the way countless others had. One who would be loved, who would have the help they needed for their inevitable unholy hungers. Someone precious for the two of you to fret over, to adore and care for. He... wanted that. Or at least he would if you still did. Now if he could just figure out how to bring it up, maybe something could actually happen.

But luckily enough for him, you did the job for him. He had been pouring over another book dedicated to recording the births of Dhampirs in the area, only to be distracted by you loudly sighing behind him.

"What's wrong love?" Astarion asked, his eyes still scanning the page in front of him.

"Oh I don't know," You sighed, rounding the corner to sit on the edge of his desk, "I just can't help but wonder when you're going to explain why you've suddenly become obsessed with parenting books. And..."

You trailed off, ignoring his surprised expression to read the cover of what was in front of him, "'Vampiric and Mortal Love & The Spawn They Create'. It's not exactly your usual reading material."

Part of Astarion wanted to be surprised that you had already figured him out. He had at least been trying to hide things from you slightly, not that it mattered when you could read him like a book. And he supposed that blatantly reading things like this in front of you would eventually have an effect, even if he tried to obscure the titles.

But that didn't stop him from stuttering through a response, "Well-I, okay. I've just been thinking about options lately. Which you can't really do if you don't understand what they are. Hence the books."

You frowned at him, one leg crossed over the other, "Star, I already told you that you don't need to worry-"

"But I want to worry," Astarion interrupted, deciding that ripping the band-aid off would be the best course of action, "And if there is something I can be doing to make you happier than I should at least consider it."

"I'm not going to force you into this for that," You said softly, reaching out to twine his fingers against yours, "This isn't the kind of thing you do just for someone else."

Astarion was aware of that, there was an important truth to your words. But... "What if it wasn't just for you?"

You paused, your brow furrowed as you stared at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what if, and consider this purely hypothetical, what if I wanted one as well. What then?" It was as far from hypothetical as Astarion could get, but by the look on your face it didn't seemed like that needed to be clarified.

You swallowed, looking just shy of hopeful as you played with his hand, "I... well. I guess in that case we would have a lot to talk about."

That wasn't quite the answer he was looking for. He pressed on, "So if in theory, I did want one. Would... you still be interested in having one?"

With me?

He left that part unsaid as he waited for an answer, uncharacteristically nervous as you mulled it over. But you were smiling, bright and wide, giving his hand a little squeeze as you spoke, "I think that would be the only scenario where I would want it. If that's something you wanted."

"I think it is," Astarion answered honestly, done with being coy, "I don't know how, I... I'm not quite sure how I feel about you carrying something that could be dangerous. But... in general yes. I think I want this. I do want this. With you and only you. Whenever your ready."

The next part Astarion did see coming, his arms already open by the time you launched yourself at him. You straddled his lap, kissing every part of his face as you babbled, "We can wait! It doesn't need to be now but-I just-yes! Adoption, childbirth, I don't care. All I need is to have them with you. That's all I want."

"And that I can give," Astarion laughed, delighted at your reaction. He still had concerns, plenty of them in fact, but they were hard to consider when the woman he adored was so ecstatic.

He gripped your chin, chuckling at the whine you let out for him interrupting your onslaught of affection. You didn't have to wait long, not when he directed your mouth against his, kissing you deeply as a new wave of exciting, and slightly nauseating feelings worked through him.

He didn't know exactly what was going to happen in the future. He had no idea if he would be a good father, but he knew that he would try his damndest. He didn't know how the two of you would even procure a child, but he did no one thing.

With you by his side, it would work out. All of it, no matter how hard the road turned out to be. And that was all that mattered.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #asks #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #spoilers #pregnancy mention #should i do a part 2 of this?#dhampir baby part two?#fun fact im actually so scared of pregnancy it sounds like hell to me #so pregnancy/child fics are very interesting to write #personally #i'm getting through these asks slowly but surely #nine more to go!

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girlbossblackbeard · 1 year ago

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THOUGHTS AND LAYERS

i spent literally an hour analyzing this trailer at 0.5 speed. this post is long af and these thoughts are in no particular order and are poorly organized:

-there's a big storm (which I think was already confirmed), and ed gets swept overboard by a bucket on a rope:

he then crawls up out of the water onto the beach

then goes into the forest, creates a hut, has a journey of healing and self-discovery, meets hornigold (or his ghost??)

and kills him thus killing the part of himself that he hated the most (his violence) as a parallel to stede finally getting rid of nigel's ghost by accepting and believing in himself

-in the stede/ed split screen, the stede shot is from the first ep of s2 right after stede finds the marooned crew at the end of ep 10 in s1 (you can tell bc his hair and clothes are still clean, there's no gay bandana around his neck, and that's his lil dinghy buttons is rowing)

-they go to shore and wind up at the merchants shop where "susan" overhears they're tracking down blackbeard

and she invites stede's crew onto her ship, cue the outfit change in the BTS photos:

-the way stede makes that little swishy turn in the red coat -

makes me think this may be first time he's been in fine clothes since his "death" and i hope we get a moment of him reflecting on how he gave up everything for ed only to have him hate him :( but then obviously realizing that ed is worth it and he'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant getting a chance at spending the rest of his life with him

-izzy and stede team up, and izzy is clearly training either himself or stede on the revenge (?)

soooooo many questions: what caused him to leave ed and join stede's crew? is he fighting with ed and is training to take him out or is he just done having his love be unrequited so he leaves and just so happens to stumble into stede? is izzy thinking that if he can't cut out the longing he has for ed he has to kill him instead so the pain will go away? what, pray tell, the fuck is going on in here on this day

-wee john in the mermaid costume (and olu in a bunny or donkey costume?):

a fuckery? or just a weird acid trip? OR IS IT THE TALENT SHOW THEY NEVER GOT TO HAVE??

-ed really does force everyone on his crew to wear war paint

-all the tally marks scratched into the walls - is that the number of days since stede bonnet broke ed's heart?

-ed in the forest in PEARL NECKLACE HELLOW????????

-the tear in ed's eye as he moves the cake toppers closer together which he also painted to make the lady look more like him he literlaly is in love wiht stede so bad wht the FUCJ

-ed's crew is murdering SO MANY PEOPLE at the wedding wtf (pic not included bc scary)

-delusional moment but i hope anne bonny on stede's lap is looking at calico jack off screen

-stede and ed are running towards each other on the black sand beach (thank you @sluterastede for pointing this out to me wtf!!!!!!)

which evolves my theory that ed in the forest goes through his healing journey and realizes he wants to openly love stede again but then the navy attack and stede just so happens to have found ed at the same time and they're fighting to get to each other and taking out everyone in their way (what if that was okracoke lmao)

-the swede and spanish jackie hooking up in the trailer

makes me think the bts shot of ed and jackie is them looking at stede and the swede, and ed being SO in love with stede obvi but jackie is watching the swede do some weirdly hot shit so she's gotta have him (what if they got married and he became her umpteenth husband in a drunken vegas-like shotgun wedding where she wakes up the next day to realize what has happened lmao)

-also this pic is DEF from the reunited/make up era bc ed's half-up hair, no makeup, soft eyes, and buttons' clothing. i am weeping

-stede in pain - is it an injury or a tattoo? or torture as @sluterastede posits?? he looks down at his lower body before screaming so maybe he knows what's about to happen to him??

-ed in the forest wearing the pearl necklace (see above), ed saying "fuck you stede bonnet" wearing the pearl necklace (see below)

does he pick it up at the wedding??? (theory credit to @sluterastede!!!! can u tell we watched the trailer together 400 times) i can't tell if he's wearing it in the one wide shot of him in that scene:

but regardless of when he acquires it, does he take it bc he remembers stede said he wears fine things well???? and he starts to believe he may deserve them??

-side note about a LACK of something: ed isn't wearing the cravat at all in the trailer near as i can tell, and he's not wearing the pearl necklace when throwing knives at the wall (at least from what I can see, which is not much) which leads me to believe that scene is in the earlier part of the season

-lastly, the most important song lyrics from the trailer (the beautiful ones by prince):

and that's my dissertation on the ofmd season 2 teaser trailer thank you

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 predictions #ofmd s2 trailer

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moonrisecoeur · 8 months ago

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romance — leon kennedy

author’s note: i am sick this is actually a really cute fic. although i might be a lil mentally ill. this fic is for @ovaryacted so i hope u like it nic :3 feeling re6 leon vibes hehe !!

wc: 4.7k

content: detective leon x psycho reader, fem!reader (reader wears a dress and is referred to femininely), no d/s dynamics but reader is slightly more in control, lots of pet names (sweet girl, pretty girl, princess, my girl, sweetheart, sweetie, pretty wife), talks of marriage, unprotected sex, blood as lube. reader is like actually insane but leon loves her.

warning: this fic is dark content, containing moderate amounts of blood and gore depictions, along with discussions of murder, torture, bodies, weapons, etc. please read with caution and take care of yourself.

—

notes:

"i'd love to see you in a beautiful dress," he says softly.

“i would look pretty just for you.”

leon chuckles and squeezes your hand again, it's funny how he can go from fearing you to becoming utterly enamored with you in a matter of moments.

"i have no doubts about that, sweetheart," he replies, "now come here."

—

“what… have you done now, princess?” he stumbles, because when you said you look good in red, he clumsily thought you meant you were going to wear a red dress for him.

“the guy was asking for it, lee,” you tell him, taking a step closer to reach out to him, but he steps back, “are you… afraid of me?”

“kinda. i also just… i don’t want you to get blood on my work clothes,” his smile is always gentle towards you. there’s no reality where detective kennedy can get mad at you, though. he adores you too greatly.

your eyes drop from focusing on his soft, warm gaze, to trailing down his body. he really does make himself pretty for you. black blazer and black dress pants on top of a red wine button down, top two buttons left unbuttoned because obviously the s in leon s. kennedy stands for slut. or maybe selfless? sensitive? submissive? who knows?

either way, you have the eyes of a predator. he knows you know that, yet you make no attempt to ease his mind, to tell him, ‘oh, it’s alright baby. i would never hurt you’ because neither of you are sure if that’s true.

“blood on your clothes, huh..?” you murmur, almost distantly, like your mind was somewhere else.

“we, uh, have dinner reservations, baby. why don’t you get cleaned up and we can go? i don’t think… the restaurant would appreciate blood all over their chairs and tables,” he looks away, and then back to you. your eyes are hungry, but he tries to keep you focused, “baby, you got rid of the body, right?”

“well.. not necessarily… i wanted to dismember him myself,” you pout, like you were asking for something a lot less gruesome. like, ‘leon, could we please get ice cream after dinner?’ but instead you were asking something a little bit more on brand for you. he doesn’t even know why he’s surprised.

“just… okay, whatever. just c’mere and kiss me, sweetie,” he welcomes you into his arms again, refusing to even pay any mind to the viscous scarlet liquid that saturates his velvet suit, your hand staining his neck and you reach to rest it on the back of his neck. he stopped caring about the mess and wrapped his arms around your waist.

you kiss him feverishly, stained hands and tainted souls clashing together. leon was rotten before you met him, corrupted and dark. you feel a bit more comfortable with the fact that you have not ruined him. there was nothing good about him to ruin. he lies, fabricates and destroys evidence, forces confessions, truly a brutal guy.

and yet, for the pretty thing that clutches onto him, only feeling truly happy in his arms, he is comfort. he’s safety and goodness. he is everything that’s right in her world. your world.

you are awful. but so is leon. that is why he loves you so dearly. if people like you both are even capable of such emotions.

your dress is carmine and if leon didn’t know any better, he’d think you were a victim of a heinous crime, but he does know better. and he knows there is not a single scratch or bruise on you.

leon holds you close to him, hands wrapped around your waist, giving you his complete soul, enjoying the warmth of your embrace and the familiar feel of your lips pressed against his. he squeezes you tightly and runs his hands along your hips, his touch smooth and gentle.

leon is your complete opposite. your touch is forceful and aggressive, but leon is gentle. all your body knows is his softness. you are erratic and violent, but leon is composed.

as you continue kissing him, leon's breath becomes heavier and his heart beats faster. he pulls away for a moment, panting gently as an expression of pure joy and relief crosses his face. leon leans down again, this time capturing your chin between his fingers as he looks into your eyes, soaking in the sight of you.

“you… are beautiful,” his voice echoes, low and full of an adoration even leon can’t wrap his head around. scarlet covers your figure, and all he can see is utter beauty.

“you got anywhere to be, detective kennedy?” you smile as you address him professionally, but it’s only teasing. your hand is moving to help him shrug off his suit coat and he thinks he might be here a bit longer than he thought. you throw it onto the table.when your hand starts moving to help him take off his jacket, his eyebrow raises in interest, and his eyes follow the movement of your hand until it touches his shoulder and starts undoing the buttons.

"no, nowhere in particular," he says casually, watching his coat get thrown to the side. you’re careless. that is expensive velvet, and your red hands definitely just ruined it. it’s alright he muses, he’ll just replace it.

the coat, he clarifies to himself. he’ll replace the coat. not this memory with you.

"excellent," you tell him, crimson fingers tangling into his blonde hair, “i wasn’t going to let you leave anyway.”

"i figured as much," he chuckles playfully, enjoying the feeling of your fingers digging into his scalp, massaging the tension away. leon's body relaxes against yours, savoring the feel of you pressed against him. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer.

"i've been working way too hard today," he sighs, and he sees the soft pout that comes to your face. it’s gotta be the cutest thing he’d ever seen, "don’t look at me like that, baby. i just didn't get much of a chance to relax. it’s my job, princess.” leon squeezes you tightly against him, the warmth from his body radiating against yours.

“how does your brain work for that long?” you shake your head, “i feel like i would start losing it with how long of days you work. you shouldn’t have to work so hard, lee.”

"i swear, i was staring at the same case file for like, ten hours straight," he sighs. "i can't look at those numbers and words anymore."

"i bet," you mumble, noticing the way the blood is drying up in his hair and on both of your clothes and skin, "you look like you're the murderer now," you chuckle, "i think i'm going to have to lock you up."

leon lets out a laugh, looking down at himself and noticing the dried blood caking up in his hair and on his suit, "i bet i do," he chuckles, "i look like i've just come from a crime scene."

leon looks up at you, his eyes shining mischievously. "then i guess you'll have to arrest me," he teases, "do you have the handcuffs ready?"

you laugh, mostly because you know he’s making shitty jokes, but also because you might enjoy restraining him a little too much, “oh yeah, except the jail cell is my bedroom.”

"well, you're the officer who has to bring me in," he says with a smirk, "i don't think i'll be resisting arrest too much."

“oh, shut up, dork. just kiss me,” you groan to him, pulling him in by the hips. his white button up dress shirt being stained by your red hands feels indicative of what you’ve done to leon. it’s not like he’s perfectly pristine, he’s been a corrupt cop for years, but… you have only made him worse.

it's as if he's addicted to the touch and affection of your hands, his body becoming hot with desire. he enjoys the way you press against him, your red hands staining his shirt and staining his soul. your fingers dig into his hips forcefully as you pull him in close to you, your tainted hands staining his clothes as you do so. you've definitely made him even more corrupt than he was before you came into the picture, and he's loving every second of it.

you pull away to whisper to him, in his ear, wet blood covering his skin and his clothes, "i love you."

now, he’s known for a long time that you love him, even if that love is twisted and tainted. as blood drips down the both of you, he wraps his arms around you more tightly, burying his face in your neck as he whispers into your ear.

"i love you too, princess,” he whispers back, not caring about the dried blood coating you both, "also, wait, where is your victim? did anyone see you? please tell me you were careful, baby."

"i destroyed his body parts already, don't worry. no one saw me."

"thank god.. or should i say thank you?" leon replies with a cheeky grin. to him, you are god. you are a religion. you are a deity who visits him in his dreams and treats him like her beloved human pet. he looks at you for a moment, his eyes trailing over your body, the dried blood of your previous victims making you look even more beautiful to him. god, you are so fucking pretty to him.

"though, i do need your help destroying evidence.." your fingers draw sweet little hearts onto his back once you throw his dress shirt off entirely, but he's certain your bloody hearts left literal, physical drawings on his skin. you are so fucking deranged and he adores you.

"i can help you with anything," he murmurs, leaning his head down to plant kiss after kiss on your neck, “that’s what i’m here for, baby.”

every trace of your blood-stained heart has been embedded and melded into his skin, like a stain that can never be washed out with bleach. he loves his psycho princess.

"but i don't want to think about that right now," you lean your head on his shoulder, "i just wanna be here with you.."

leon nods, enjoying the feeling of your head pressed onto him, the warmth from your body radiating gently, "i know, i know, baby," he says softly, "no worrying right now, just you and i."

after a moment of peace and calm, you perk your head up suddenly, a contemplative look on his face, "do you think... will i ever go to prison?"

leon chuckles, shaking his head as he continues stroking your hair, "no, you won't," he replies confidently, "not as long as i'm around, and i'm not going anywhere. i'll always keep you safe and make sure you're never caught."

leon feels the weight of your worries melt away from you. he enjoys being the one to calm you, tame you in a way. you are a monster, but with him, you’re his sweet girl with her.. mildly disturbing hobbies.

"you’ll be okay," he says gently, "i mean, if anyone does find evidence pointing to you, i'll get rid of it before it can even be used. i'm not going to let anyone come between us.”

“yeah?”

“you’re stuck with me forever, princess. i’ll make sure you never spend even one night in a jail cell. only the most comfortable living arrangements for my baby.”

you chuckle, pressing sweet kisses to his neck, “you’re the one that’s stuck with me. who knows? maybe my thirst for blood will include you some day.”

leon laughs, his body trembling slightly at your sweet kisses against his neck, he doesn't even want to think about the possibility of you deciding to kill him one day, but he also knows that it's not an impossibility. he swallows the lump in his throat and decides it's better to just push that thought away for now.

the worst part is… he knows you’d enjoy it. you’d watch the light slowly leave his eyes with glee. makes him nauseous.

"maybe," he says with a teasing tone, but it’s impossible to miss how his voice shakes, "but i'm more valuable to you alive, sweetheart."

“i know, i know.” you giggle, hands digging into the waistband of his fancy velvet slacks, “i just like playing with you. you get so nervous.. it’s cute.”

leon grins in return, but a hint of a nervous chuckle escapes his lips when he feels you start unbuttoning his pants.

he feels his heart rate start to pick up, both from anticipation and a little bit of anxiety, “you like playing with me huh…” he says in a lower, somewhat panting voice, “don’t play with your food, baby. do what you gotta do.”

you smirk, pushing him down onto his office chair, the same one you bought him a couple months ago when he was complaining about his old one. you sit yourself down on his lap, hands resting around the back of his neck, caressing him so sweetly. god, if leon closed his eyes, he could pretend this was normal and you were normal and you were both just two young lovers that adored each other.

his hands grasp your waist and keep you close, as he's afraid you'll leave him. you can't leave him now. not after all he's done for you, to protect you, to save you from yourself. he's ruined himself for you, he's destroyed evidence and burned bodies and lied and lied and lied for you. you can't leave him now.

his psychopath. his monster. his sweet lover. him. you belong to him.

he doesn't understand why you're so gentle with him, but you are and he's grateful, so he doesn't push the subject. when your hands pull at the waistband of his boxers, his eyes become soft and glassy and he rests his head back against the chair. you may do what you please with him at this point.

leon lets out a contented sigh as he relaxes back into the chair, his head leaning against the backrest as he gazes up at you. you are… breathtaking. a beautiful dove covered in her victim’s crimson blood.

your touch is soft and delicate, much different from the usual roughness that you've had with your previous victims. yet he can't complain that you're choosing to be so gentle with him, letting him keep this illusion of you being a normal person, just for a moment.

"can i have you, lee? right here, right now?"

it's almost amusing how normal that question sounds to him. after all this time, after everything he's done for you, after all the murders he's covered up for you, the bodies he's burned and the evidence he's destroyed... it almost makes him chuckle to hear that sentence. it’s remarkable, honestly. you’re vicious and violent and cruel… and you’re asking for consent? how adorable.

"of course," he says softly, his tone slightly pleading and desperate, "please. take me, baby... i'm yours."

you smile sweetly, though the sweetness is undercut by the blood on your face. he would almost assume you're possessed by something demonic if he didn't already know you were evil to begin with, "you make me so happy, baby." you muse gently, "you keep me safe, protect me when i mess up... i'm gonna be your perfect little wife someday."

leon chuckles softly at your words, but there's a part of him that's a little bit terrified. in his mind, he knows that this isn't the beginning of some fairytale romance, and that your intentions aren't quite pure, but he chooses to ignore those thoughts. he's already fallen down such a dark path because of your influence, so what's stopping him from falling a little bit deeper and going all the way down into this fucking madness with you?

"i'll protect you from everything," he replies, his fingers gripping tightly around yours, "nothing will ever hurt you again, my sweet wife. i’ll keep you safe and happy, always.”

"we should get married in a big, beautiful chapel. i don't need a lot of people there, i just want to be there with you."

leon grins, "you'd be happy with just a small wedding?" he asks with a hint of surprise in his voice, "i thought you'd want something big and extravagant to show off to everyone."

“all i need is a pretty dress and you,” you whisper to him.

leon chuckles, brushing your hair out of your face with his hand, his fingers slightly trembling. a part of him can't help but wonder how this would all end: would it actually end happily? with you two walking down the aisle to an altar, exchanging vows? or would it end up with his body buried deep in the woods?

he forces himself to ignore those thoughts, for now he should stay focused on the moment. you look at him so sweetly, so earnestly, so he decides to trust your intentions with him for now.

"i'd love to see you in a beautiful dress," he says softly.

“i would look pretty just for you.”

leon chuckles and squeezes your hand again, it's funny how he can go from fearing you to becoming utterly enamored with you in a matter of moments.

"i have no doubts about that, sweetheart," he replies, "now come here."

you smile as you lean in to kiss him again, hands finally resuming their movements to get into his underwear.

leon lets out a soft groan, his muscles tensing as he feels your hands slip through the fabric of his underwear, pulling out his cock for you to play with, or so he assumes you’ll do. you play with it like it’s a toy, something you can just have fun messing with while he sleeps or before you fuck him. he uses the verbage of ‘you fucking him’ because this is in no way him fucking you… even if it’s his dick. at some point that dick attached to his pelvis became yours..

he wraps his arms tightly around your waist as you begin to caress him. he's just so vulnerable to you, he's yours in every aspect of the word, physically and emotionally. yours, yours, yours.

"i'll be gentle, i promise. i'm just gonna stroke your cock, nice and slow.." you murmur. your touch is warm but teasing, and when you notice the tension in his body, you can't help but giggle, "i can't go too quickly just yet.. can't make you feel too much too soon."

leon chuckles softly, a part of him enjoying this teasing routine. he knows that eventually you'll give him what he wants, so he doesn’t mind waiting. whatever his girl wants, she gets.

"i know" he says panting slightly, "just take your time, princess..."

it's just so hard not to adore him, so malleable and soft, you could mold him into anything you want.

leon's eyes are starting to get hazy, his breath hitching in his throat and his body trembling. your touch is so delicate yet so powerful, it's making his entire body quiver. he’s not even on the edge but he feels like he is. both of your hands jerk him off so slow and sensual, and he knows the only reason they’re moving so smoothing is because your hands still have wet blood on them… which means you’re practically using that guy’s blood as lube and… this is so fucked up. you are so fucked up. you are awful and he can’t wait to make you his wife.

leon’s not necessarily the most submissive man alive, but he does listen well and you always get what you want, so take that as you will. he's always been so easy to mold into whatever you want him to be. he's followed along like a loyal dog, doing everything you ask of him. he's done such despicable things in your name, knowing that at the end of the day, you'll love him enough to keep him by your side.

he feels your thumb massaging his tip and he suppresses a nervous whimper, eyes fluttering closed as he takes in the feeling of your touch. you’re too much of a tease, but leon is patient.

“promise that you’ll always stay with me, lee. promise that you’ll never leave,” you whisper. he doesn’t know why you expect such a deep answer from him when his brain is becoming more and more mushy by the second.

“i promise," he whispers back, still panting slightly from pleasure. “i'm never going to leave you. i'll stay by your side for as long as we're alive. i'll never stop protecting you, loving you"

“i will sink my claws into you and never let you leave,” you growl.

he leans his head back against the chair again, a smile creeping on his lips as he lets out a shuddering breath. "i'm all yours, princess, and i have no desire to be anyone else's."

just as he starts to get close to the edge, riding the fine line of pleasure, you pull your hands away from him. you feel bad for denying him, but you're only doing it so you both can finish together. leon lets out a soft shiver as you tug your hands away, your teasing just making him more and more desperate.

he lets out a tense, groaning sigh as you pull your hands away, a small whimper escaping his lips as you did so. he's so close, but you're not quite ready to let him cum yet.

leon tries his best not to show his disappointment, the build up has been intense and it's frustrating to feel himself denied, but he knows you love it. you love making him desperate, making him beg.

he concedes: this is what you like, so it’s what he likes.

but his disappointment is quickly brushed away as you get up off of him to take off your beautiful bloody dress, and your undergarments too. for all of the blood on your face, neck, chest, and arms, the rest of you is mostly untouched, and he finds the difference rather amusing. your stomach and thighs look so soft and innocent.

he gazes at you lustfully as you remove your clothes, his breath catching in his throat as he stares at your naked body. he can’t think, can’t breathe, his eyes going everywhere they’re not supposed to. he can only try so hard to be a gentleman.

"you.. are going to make me your wife," you say, voice carrying an air of certainty. you are not suggesting. you are telling him what's going to happen, and he will obviously obey, “you’ll buy me a pretty ring. nothing expensive, don’t waste your money on something stupid like a diamond. and you’ll take me on a beautiful honeymoon, and we’ll spend every moment of those days together just fucking like rabbits. understood?”

marriage was never something he considered until you called yourself his ‘pretty little wife’ to be honest, but with the way you're demanding it now... it's something he'd easily give in to, "okay" he finally manages to whisper back, "anything for my beautiful wife."

you smile gently, settling back onto his lap, pussy aching for the cock in front of you, so desperate to fill you up, “you ready, baby?” you ask.

leon nods, his eyes fluttering briefly at your words, “yeah, i'm ready," he mumbles, his breath already short and his heart beating so hard he's surprised that you can't hear it.

you slide him inside, giving yourself a moment to adjust. leon can't help but find the slight discomfort in your face cute.

you moan gently, resting your hands on his shoulders, "o-oh, ah..."

he can hear every soft sound and breath that escapes your lips as you begin to move, and he can't help but let out a soft groan as well. his hands grip tightly around you, tightening every time you moan or gasp.

leon holds onto you for dear life, he knows he's already so close to finishing, he could really blow any second, but the longer this goes, the longer this moment lasts, the more intense it gets. you’re going to kill him one of these days.

"l-lee.." you gasp, hips rocking back and forth, almost circular motions.

"oh god.. baby..." he lets out a tense moan as you ride him, movements gentle but somehow still so overwhelming. his fingertips dig into your shoulders as he tries to keep himself restrained, but he's at the very edge of his control.

every movement sends a jolt through his body, his muscles flexing and releasing with everything he's got to keep himself from finishing before you.

“leon…” you groan again, and he never really realizes the effect he has on you until your body is trembling as you ride his cock. your voice isn’t quite begging, but he almost hears it like that. it sounds like a love confession wrapped up in his name. he doesn’t see it until all of your defenses are down, but you love him so helplessly that it must be scary.

god, he wants to hold you in his arms forever and never let you go. protect his serial killer for the rest of her days.

he lets out another tense, breathy moan as you start to move even faster, you're pushing him to the limit. every sensation that he feels is so intense, he can hardly handle it, it takes every ounce of self-discipline in his body to keep himself from finishing early, but that’s what you get for edging him right before. you put him at a huge disadvantage.

“wait for me..” you whisper, “wanna cum with you..”

he nods his head, his eyes squeezed shut as a trembling breath escapes from his lips. he's trying his hardest to wait for you to finish, the urges and sensations within him are overwhelming and he feels as though he might explode at any moment.

and he does unfortunately, just a moment early, but it kick-starts your orgasm so for the most part, you’re both gasping and moaning and breathing fast and shaky and helpless together, hands grasping at any skin they can reach as you’re pulled ever closer to him. he sticks his head into the crook of your neck as your pretty pussy squeezes around him. he feels breathless and helpless, holding you like he’d die without you. he feels your heavy breath and your hands tightly gripping him, you must be completely gone, orgasm hitting you in waves that squeeze every drop of cum out of him.

you’re his, he realizes. completely, utterly his. you need him. you can’t go on without leon and there is nothing more pleasing than being your lifeline. your face makes that cute little pout, dried bloody fingers making his shoulders red, but this time it might just be his blood. your nails are digging into him, but he can’t blame you. you’re too lost in pleasure to realize what you’re doing.

once you both start to slow and calm down, breathing returning to a more normal pace, you lean down to rest your head on his chest.

after a moment, you ask him, “are you really gonna marry me?”

“mhm,” he hums, fingers brushing against your head, licking his thumb to try and rub off the dried blood on your forehead, “i'll get you a ring and get down on one knee and everything.”

“what will our wedding be like?”

“whatever you want, princess,” he closes his eyes, “i don't have a single care in the world about what flowers you pick or if you want to invite people or if you just want it to be us two and an officiant in the empty wedding chapel. i just want to call you my wife. my sweet, pretty wife. my girl. my only love.”

you giggle, nuzzling closer into his chest, “detective kennedy. my husband,” you grin cutely, “my leon. mine.”

burgundy drips from his fingertips as he brushes them against your cheek, “yours.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #sub!leon #moon.dc #moon.g #resident evil x reader #resident evil leon #resident evil imagines

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asdfghjklmals · 1 year ago

Text

MILESTONES✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive comments. WORD COUNT: 6.0k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, dadtobe!gojo, pregnant!oc, established couple. a lil' jealous!oc.

SYNOPSIS: a compilation of short stories about the stages of pregnancy with oc gojo girlfriend and satoru. AUTHOR'S NOTE: please make sure to read 'accidents' before milestones. i couldn't have you guys miss out on oc gojo girlfriend and satoru's pregnancy journey. it was so fun to write this. a lot of research went into the baby gojo chronicles, i honestly think my fbi agent thinks i'm pregnant. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

8 weeks: the first pre-natal appointment

it has been two weeks since you and satoru decided that you were going to keep the baby. this week was your first pre-natal appointment to "meet" baby gojo. you couldn't tell who was more nervous, you or satoru.

during your appointment, satoru sat in the exam room as the nurse drew your blood to perform tests and to confirm the pregnancy. the nurse also performed a pap smear, which freaked satoru out after he saw what a speculum looked like. he said it looked like a 'torture chamber tool' and you wholeheartedly agreed with him.

you exchanged soft smiles with satoru multiple times throughout your appointment. satoru was engrossed with the entire process. his curiousness was adorable in your eyes as he asked your nurse questions about all the procedures and tests she was performing. about an hour later after receiving the results of your blood tests, your doctor entered the room.

“well, first things first, congratulations on your pregnancy (y/n)! your blood test came back positive with hcg.” your doctor began, “now let’s talk about some upcoming lifestyle changes you'll have to make.”

“wait, when do we get to see the baby?” satoru interrupted. you glared at him, dark green eyes telling him ‘shut up, satoru’.

“we’ll perform the ultrasound after this, satoru.” your doctor chimed. “(y/n), i want you to start taking a pre-natal. stop eating raw fish, deli meats, and eat thoroughly cooked meats for now.”

you blinked twice. that meant no sushi for you. your heart sank a little. satoru noticed the disappointment shift in your mood. he felt a little guilty.

"so that's why you had me cook your steak well-done..." satoru whispered to himself. you scoffed at his sudden realization from two weeks ago. (read ‘accidents’ here)

“do you or satoru have any pre-existing medical conditions in either families?”

“no. but he might be pre-diabetic by the time he’s 40.” you snorted.

satoru chuckled and reported back, “there’s nothing on my side of the family to note.”

“that’s great to hear. just be aware of gestational diabetes, (y/n). i know you love your chocolate ice cream so watch your intake.” your doctor typed some notes in your patient profile, “your due date is looking close to october 14th. any other questions?”

“can the baby come earlier?” satoru quickly asked.

your doctor smiled at the both of you, “i wouldn’t necessary call it early, but babies are considered full term at 37 weeks. it would be good for the baby to be born around or after that time.”

“uhm, do you think i’ll be able to give birth vaginally?” you asked next. your sister-in-law had to have c-sections, so that worried you. her recovery was a journey for her and honestly, it scared you. but you were willing to do whatever it takes to make sure baby gojo arrived safely.

“as long as there aren’t any complications, of course. we can plan on that. we'll just have to monitor how your pregnancy is going.” your doctor picked up on yours and satoru’s quiet and awkward social queues, "and yes, you can still have sex while you're pregnant.

"oh, thank god." satoru sighed in relief as you smacked him with the back of your hand. he was so embarrassing.

"please, just ignore him." you looked at your doctor, cheeks cherry red.

she laughed and asked the most important question of the day, “are you guys ready to meet your baby?”

you nodded your head and giggled, “yes. i think satoru’s more excited than i am. he won't shut up about it.”

“i’ve been waiting two weeks for this moment.” satoru said with a sheepish smile, his hand scratching the back of his fresh undercut. his blue eyes peeking through from his sunglasses.

“okay, let’s get started then.” your doctor announced while snapping on her sterile gloves. “we’ll be performing a transabdominal ultrasound today, nothing painful.”

she squeezed a handful of gel to apply to your belly. you jumped in your seat.

“are you okay?” satoru asked, concerned at your sudden movement.

you reassured him, “yeah, the gel is just cold.”

your doctor laughed in amusement and started to rub the wand around your abdomen. you heard a fast thumping noise.

“is that the heartbeat?” you wondered, looking at the black and white screen. satoru smiled from ear-to-ear as he cupped his cheek in his right hand, his left hand squeezing yours. hearing his baby’s heartbeat might take the cake for one of his favorite sounds in the world, next to your laugh.

your doctor reported back, “yup. a healthy 138 bpm. i’m gonna take some pictures now…”

you saw a tiny circle in the middle of the monitor as your doctor clicked away on her computer mouse.

“is that the baby?” satoru asked, squinting at the monitor.

“yes. you see the little image that looks like a bean?” she clicked again, “it’s about half an inch… that’s your baby.”

“it’s so cute. how tiny. a baby bean…” you gushed. you turned to look at satoru. he was itching his eyes.

“satoru gojo, are you crying?” you asked in disbelief.

he quickly defended himself, avoiding all eye contact with you. “no! something just got in my eye.”

he was such a liar. his infinity would never allow anything to touch his precious six eyes.

your doctor laughed at the sweet moment between the two of you. you watched the love of your life stare at the black and white screen in amazement. your heart felt like it was going to burst watching him. you wanted to hold him tightly and never let go.

12 weeks: surprise! we’re pregnant!

it was so hard for you and satoru to keep your pregnancy a secret for the past 6 weeks. the only two people who knew you were pregnant were shoko and megumi.

your doctor had advised you to wait until the end of your first trimester to announce your pregnancy because of the risk of miscarriage. once you made it past the first trimester, you thought about how you were going to tell everyone. of course, you and satoru wanted it to be a surprise. an imaginary lightbulb lit above your head.

“babe, i have an idea.” you said excitedly, grabbing satoru’s arm as he was looking through your office drawers for something sweet to snack on.

“hmmm. what is it, sweetheart?” he asked as he unwrapped a piece of chocolate. you always kept a stash of satoru's favorite chocolates in your desk for him because he loved to hide in your office and avoid his sensei duties.

“you know how we usually take a group picture with the faculty, students, and sister school every year? let's tell principal yaga to schedule it early this year.”

“oh, i like where this is going.” satoru laughed. he read your mind. you high-fived him. he gave you a quick peck on the cheek. couples’ telepathy was really a thing.

*********************************

“and why do we have to be here?” maki complained as she folded her arms. she wanted to train, not take a silly picture.

“come on, maki! it’s tradition to get a picture of all the students and faculty. it’s just that we’re taking the picture earlier than usual this year.” panda said as he patted her back.

“even okkotsu came back from his training to be in the picture. my sister flew in just to be in it too.” megumi said as he watched yuta interact with the students from kyoto. tsumiki was attached to your hip. megumi already knew the real reason why the picture was scheduled so early in the school year and why tsumiki was asked to be in the picture.

“alright! everyone looks great.” yuji cheered as he walked to his assigned spot for the group picture.

principal yaga gathered everyone, “please make your way to the field and get into your assigned spots. satoru will be pressing the button for the camera since he can teleport to his spot quickly.”

you nervously watched as all the students and jujutsu high faculty made their way to their spots, getting ready for the picture.

“okay everyone!” satoru shouted as he prepared himself to teleport next to you and megumi, “i’m pressing the timer!”

satoru appeared by your side as the 10 second timer ticked. satoru sneakily pressed record instead taking of a picture. “everyone say ‘(y/n)-sensei’s pregnant’!”

everyone stopped to look at you and satoru in confusion.

“what?”

“what did he say?”

“huh?!”

“(y/n)-sensei… is pregnant?!”

“wait what?”

“holy shit, (y/n)-sensei is pregnant!”

after a few seconds of questioning, everyone realized what had just happened. you had just announced your pregnancy.

in that moment, you were tackled by tsumiki, megumi, yuji, nobara, and yuta as they cheered around you in a group hug. ijichi, akari, principal yaga, nanami, ino, mei, utahime and shoko were all congratulating satoru. they took turns speaking with the both of you, giving you well wishes on a safe and healthy pregnancy.

“congrats, (y/n)-sensei.” maki said with a soft smile, embarrassed she complained about being here. she wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.

panda added, “yes, congratulations! we’re excited to see you and satoru become parents.”

“salmon, salmon!” toge congratulated you in his own words.

“thanks everyone. if you guys aren’t busy, we’re going to have a celebratory dinner tonight at splendid sushi. satoru’s treat.” you winked.

“hey! i heard that!” satoru shouted at you from across the field as he grinned. both you and satoru were thrilled to see everyone’s excitement on the news of baby gojo.

*********************************

“are you nervous to tell my brother you knocked up his little sister?” you teased satoru. you kissed his cheek as he brushed the loose strands of black hair behind your ear.

“nah, i’m sure he wants nieces and nephews for his kids. plus, it was an accident.” he joked as he drummed his fingers on the restaurant table. you and satoru people-watched through the restaurant window, waiting for touya and his wife. (a/n: yeah, touya is married with 2 kids now. his wife’s name is hana. a non-sorcerer. maybe i'll write a wedding fic.)

you smiled as you saw your brother walk into the restaurant, holding the door open for hana. touya’s black hair and golden-yellow eyes beamed when he saw you satoru.

“satoru! how have you been, bro?!” touya greeted his self-proclaimed brother, pulling him in for a bro hug.

“i can’t believe he hugged satoru first.” you looked at hana in disbelief as she giggled, hugging you instead.

“they really are bestfriends now.” hana realized as she sat across from you.

satoru sat back down in his seat next to you, touya sitting across from him. “glad you guys could have lunch with us. it’s been awhile.”

“we have a gift for you guys! a souvenir from our last trip.” you lied to your brother and sister-in-law. you pushed a card and white box towards them.

“open it. it’s special, made especially for you.” satoru urged, touya and hana taking the card to open first.

“what do you get a brother who already has everything?” touya read out loud. hana curiously reading along with him. satoru placed his hand on your thigh. the both of you were grinning from ear-to-ear watching the two open the box. they pulled out a beige baby onesie.

touya read the text on the onesie, “how about the title uncle and auntie…?”

after putting 2+2 together, touya hid his face with his hands, both him and hana were so happy for you and satoru. your eyes started to water watching them. a tearful laugh came out of you.

“congratulations, you two. my baby sis is having a baby...” touya said as he got up to embrace you.

you hugged him tighter, “thanks, touya…” you softly said. the warmth of your brother's love and support making you extremely emotional. these pregnancy hormones were out. of. control.

18 weeks: an important question

"aren't you curious to what the gender is?" shoko asked you and satoru. you asked shoko to join you two for lunch today because you had an important question to ask the amber-eyed doctor in regards to your unborn child.

you took a bite of your chicken katsu before answering, "of course we are. but we decided not to find out because we want it to be a surprise."

“what do you want it to be? a boy or girl?”

“it doesn’t matter. as long as baby gojo is healthy.” satoru stereotypically said as he stretched his arm to rest over your shoulder. he secretly wanted a girl.

you added, “we raised megumi and tsumiki. we already experienced the best of both worlds. so i’m not picky.”

“i guess i’m just being selfish because i want to know the gender.” shoko laughed as she took a sip of her mimosa.

“oh! shoko, we have a present for you.” you said as you put down your chopsticks. you turned to satoru and he grabbed another white box with a card attached do it, similar to the one you gave touya and hana.

“it better be the gender of your baby.” she laughed as she took the present from satoru.

“it’s something even better.” satoru said with his signature shit-eating grin.

shoko opened the card, reading it out loud, “i need an extra pair of hands to help me learn and grow… i know that yours will be the best because mommy and daddy told me so…?” she looked at the card, confused.

you asked her clearly while trying not to laugh, “shoko, will you be baby gojo’s godmother?”

shoko stared at both you and satoru after she realized what you had just asked of her. she started to chuckle as she got out of her seat to hug you. “of course, i will. hopefully your baby won’t grow up to be a little shit like satoru.” she said as she punched the white-haired sorcerer in the arm, satoru completely letting her bypass his infinity to do so.

“there’s another gift in there.” satoru added, pointing at the giant glass.

shoko picked up the pint glass and read the etching, “you drink too much. you smoke too much. and you cheated on your medical exam. we can’t think of anyone more suitable to be baby gojo’s godmother.”

shoko laughed, “okay, this might have been better than finding out the gender of your baby.”

26 weeks: baby gojo’s first (external) kick

megumi came home this weekend to spend time with you, satoru, and tsumiki. normally, he would be spending his free time exploring japan with nobara and yuji, but since you were pregnant and tsumiki was back for her semester break from her study abroad program, he wanted to spend his free time with his family.

you were in the kitchen with tsumiki making dinner while satoru and megumi sat around the living room with his demon dogs, shiro and kuro. catoru was lounging in their cat scratch post and your spirit birds were out on the patio enjoying the weather. you didn’t realize how zoo-like your home was until now... and that wasn't even including all of megumi's shikigami either.

while chopping vegetables, tsumiki updated you on her high school adventures abroad. ever since she started at e.f. academy, she has been non-stop on-the-go with extracurricular activities. she told you about her latest projects, how the weather was in california, about all the friends she made, and even the boy she had a small crush on. (read 'wherever you are' here)

on the couch, megumi spoke with satoru about his shikigami and how he’s been able to tame a majority of them now. this was the first time in awhile those two haven’t bickered in your presence, and it was a sight to behold.

you rested your hands on your belly as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, listening to your sweet teenager talk about how cute her crush was. you reminisced about your time in high school, how you thought satoru was a complete asshole when you first met him, and how his good looks and horrible personality made up for it. if your 18 year old self could see you now, she wouldn’t believe the sight. (read 'love at first fight' here)

you felt a little tap against your hands. “huh?” you said out loud, realizing what you just felt on your hands.

“(y/n)? are you okay?” tsumiki asked as she put down the chopping knife. satoru and megumi turned around from the couch, all the attention was on you.

“i think baby gojo just kicked my hand.” you announced. only you were able to feel baby gojo kick internally for the past couple weeks, but now, you thought that satoru and the kids would be able to actually feel the kicks from the outside too.

“hurry, come over here!” you said frantically, hoping baby gojo would kick again. satoru dramatically teleported beside you as megumi hopped over the couch ledge to race over to the kitchen, kuro and shiro following him.

you took all three of their hands and placed it on your belly where you thought baby gojo was. the demon dogs sniffed around you, their tails wagging happily. you pursed your lips, waiting for another kick. you felt kuro and shiro licking your hands.

and there it was. another gentle kick from baby gojo.

“i felt it!” tsumiki cheered as she jumped around the kitchen. her bright smile lighting up the room.

satoru hugged you from behind. you both smiled while watching tsumiki and megumi. megumi looked at his hand, and then back at your stomach.

“did you feel it, megumi?” you asked him with a smile.

“yeah, i did.” he said softly. “that was pretty cool.”

“what about you, daddy?” you grinned as you asked satoru.

megumi gagged at satoru’s new title, “gross. i’m leaving.”

you and satoru watched as your moody teenager made his way back to the couch, tsumiki’s attention back on chopping vegetables. satoru’s arms were still wrapped around you, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. baby gojo kicked once more.

“i think baby gojo is saying ‘let go of us so mommy can finish cooking’.” you giggled as you turned around to face the white haired sorcerer. you caressed his cheek with your palm. he snuck two kisses on your neck.

“fine… but i expect some alone time later.” he winked at you before kissing the palm of your hand.

you laughed, “sorry, babe, the kids are home this weekend, plus you get me all to yourself next week when we go to mexico for our baby moon.”

30 weeks: a first time parents' class

"babe, get ready. i signed us up for a class."

"what kind of class? it better not be another ‘how to have sex while pregnant’ class." you rolled your eyes at the ridiculous class that satoru signed you up for at the beginning of your pregnancy. you sighed, your belly weighing you down on your very comfortable white couch that you would probably need satoru's help getting out of.

he grinned at you as he grabbed your purse and your shoes. "a first time parents class."

your doctor recommended that you and satoru waited until your third trimester to take a 'first time parent' class. the class would teach new parents about the different kinds of births, pain management strategies, what to do if and when your water breaks, how to time contractions, postpartum care, caring for the baby, and baby first aid.

“do we have to go?” you asked, “i’m tired.” feigning exhaustion as you put the back of your hand over your eyes and forehead.

“of course we have to go!” satoru exclaimed as he sat down next to you. he was always so excited whenever it came to anything related to baby gojo. he slipped on your white sneakers for you, swiftly tying your shoe laces bunny ear style as you sat up on your elbows. you caught yourself smiling at him. he was so doting. you could definitely get used to this.

satoru studied you. you weren't wearing any makeup today, but you had the radiant "pregnancy glow" that everyone talked about. you wore a beige dress under a white crop t-shirt that hugged your belly tightly. “you look beautiful, so no need to change or do your makeup.”

“you just don’t want to be late.” you laughed. this was the first time that satoru gojo was on time for anything.

*********************************

satoru teleported you both to the hospital in tokyo that you go to for your all your doctor appointments. apparently the hospital was hosting the class he signed up for. there were many pregnant women with their significant others, friends, mothers, and mother-in-laws sitting around the small auditorium.

as you entered the room, you heard gasps and whispers about satoru.

“wow! what a good looking guy!”

“he’s a total hottie!”

“that guy is gonna be a dilf for sure!”

“do you see the cutie with the white hair and blue eyes?!”

“where should we sit?” satoru asked as he held your hand. you looped your free arm around his bicep covetously, staking claim to your man as if your very pregnant belly didn't do so already.

“don’t pretend like you don’t hear all the women in this room talking about you.” you hissed at him as you sat down in a seat closer to the front of the auditorium. because this happened everywhere you went with satoru, normally it wouldn't bug you, but for some reason it did today.

“somebody’s a green eyed monster today.” he sang with a smug smile. it was his favorite analogy to use when you were jealous because your green eyes were so fitting. he sat down next to you, draping his left arm around your shoulder, his right elbow perched on the arm rest. after over a decade of being with you, he was unphased by comments from other women. he ate it all up in high school, but satoru gojo became a changed man once he met you.

“am not.” you said under your breath. you stayed quiet for a moment. “babe, i just think it’s funny how—”

satoru's left ear was saved as your 'i think it's funny how' rant was interrupted by the presenter, “good afternoon! and welcome to the first time parents class!”

even though you were jealous and didn’t like how all the other women in the auditorium were drooling over satoru, you couldn’t stay mad. throughout the years, satoru’s beautiful blue eyes have never strayed and he never made you feel unwanted, even when you argued or when you were being difficult and stubborn. he was never bothered by your jealously. you were the only person he chased after since the day he met you at jujutsu high.

throughout the class, satoru took notes on his phone and asked questions during the q&a. it was hard to stay mad at a man as dedicated and involved as satoru gojo. you decided to just ignore the women in the class, however, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t cling to satoru when the class ends.

*********************************

“so, what’d you think about the class?” satoru asked as he placed your go-to order of ice cream in front of you. he sat across from you as you glared at his sweet, handsome, smug face.

“it was fine. we learned a lot of information, don’t you think?” you deferred as you scooped a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

“yeah, and i learned that you still get jealous til’ this day.” satoru poked fun at you. “remember the first time i took you shopping in shibuya? you were soooo jealous of all the girls talking about me and you weren’t even my girlfriend at the time.” he laughed at the memory. (read ‘love at first fight’ here)

you quipped back, “satoru, everyone knows that you’re the one who’s obsessed with me.”

“true,” he agreed while taking a bite of your ice cream, “but it’s nice to see that side of you every once in awhile. what’s my baby gonna do when she’s not my number one anymore?” he mocked in a playful tone, shooting a bright toothy smile at you.

your emerald green eyes pierced his sapphire blue eyes. “what do you mean by that?”

“baby gojo is gonna be my number one.” satoru said nonchalantly, licking caramel off your spoon.

you took your ice cream away from him. holding the cup closer to you instead of putting it in the middle of the table to share.

satoru chastised you, “that’s not nice, sweetheart.”

“you’re insufferable, babe.” you rolled your eyes at him. “first, you let women drool all over you in front of me, then you tell me that i’m not your number one anymore. what’s next? you don’t love me either?”

“there you go with the theatrics.” satoru sighed, folding his arms. he wouldn't expect anything less from his life partner.

“i learned from the best teacher, i think his name was satoru gojo.” you winked at him.

"it's a good thing i love you." satoru said as he leaned over the table to kiss you on the lips. he tasted just like caramel.

32 weeks: nesting

"this fucking crib is going to be the death of me." satoru muttered under his breath as he struggled putting together the 'smart' crib that he bought. as soon as satoru found out you were pregnant, he spent a whole month researching cribs to decide which one he was going to buy for baby gojo. he decided on the most expensive one, thinking that it would be the best. rich people logic. this crib was called a 'snoo'.

"you didn't have to get such a high tech crib, babe." you said as you sat on the bed folding warm, freshly washed baby clothes and baby bedding for the snoo. you admired how cute and small the onesies were. because you and satoru didn't know the gender of your baby, you bought a lot of neutral colored clothing like beiges, tans, browns, and whites.

"my baby is going to have the best everything." satoru boasted. of course, baby gojo was going to be spoiled. they had you and satoru gojo as their parents.

during the past couple of weeks, you and satoru had bought a handful of important things that new parents would need for a newborn baby such as a crib, stroller, car seat, changing table dresser, and a comfortable lounging chair for your bedroom to put next to baby gojo's crib for the late night feeds.

satoru insisted that everything would be 'nuna' branded. the employee at his favorite department store convinced him after they mentioned that nuna was the "lamborghini of baby strollers and car seats." the matching stroller and car seat system was well over $1,000, you couldn't argue with satoru about how much he was spending because it would be hypocritical of you and your spending habits. so you let him get what he wanted.

after hours of setting up the snoo, putting together the baby stroller, installing the car seat, and building the dresser, satoru sighed, "what a long day." he crawled under the covers to meet you in bed, the back of his hand covering his face in exhaustion.

“it’s a good thing you could just use blue to move the lounge chair from the front door to the bedroom. you probably would've broke your back.” you teased him, knowing satoru gojo doesn’t do manual labor.

“the one easy part about today.” he complained.

while satoru took on his fatherly projects, you were able to deep clean the apartment, put baby clothes and diapers into the newly built dresser, add the clean bedding to the snoo, and re-organize all the drawers in the apartment. you were in the nesting stage of your pregnancy.

you turned to face him, your pregnancy pillow creating a divide between you and the exhausted sorcerer. he flattened your pregnancy pillow with his arm as you took his hand to lace your fingers with.

“you could’ve hired someone to build the snoo and the dresser, satoru.” you said to him, knowing that he normally would’ve.

“yeah, i know, but this is for my baby. i want to make sure everything is perfect.”

your heart melted at the fact that satoru was giving it his all to be involved. deep down, he wanted to be a good father and you could see that. you were proud of him.

"congrats, daddy. you just spent the day nesting with me." you smiled. you knew satoru secretly adored his new title.

the white haired sorcerer laughed, “what the hell is nesting? are we birds?”

“nesting is when couples get their home ready for the baby, satoru.”

“oh yeah? spending hours organizing drawers is nesting? because there’s nothing baby gojo will hate more than the junk drawer we have in the kitchen.” satoru teased.

you kissed the back of your teeth in annoyance, “you have been saying for years that you’d clean out the junk drawer. i found crayons in there from when megumi was in elementary school. he's a high schooler now. it only took me getting knocked up for it to finally be clean.”

you turned your body away from satoru. he moved your pregnancy pillow so he could cling to you (and so that he could be the big spoon).

“i’m just kidding, babe.” he whispered in your ear, kissing the back of your shoulder blade with his soft lips.

“uh huh. go to sleep, satoru.” you replied back to him, attempting to shut your eyes.

“so feisty…” satoru mumbled, still peppering soft kisses along your shoulder blade.

37 weeks: full term

"well... i can give birth at any time now." you said as you read your 'what to expect' app.

satoru placed his free hand on your stomach as he joined you on the white fluffy couch in your living room. you moved satoru's hand to where baby gojo was, using his hand to press firmly into your stomach.

he quickly pulled his hand away from you, afraid that he hurt you and baby gojo, "doesn't that hurt your stomach when you press that hard?" he asked.

"babe, no. give me your hand back. you'll be able to feel baby gojo's feet." you said, reaching for his hand that he reluctantly gave back to you. he leaned over to see what the hard feeling in your stomach was.

"that's baby gojo's feet?" he asked, amazed.

"yeah, baby gojo is literally killing me right now though." you said as you shifted uncomfortably. baby gojo liked to sleep in this position, making you lay on your left side more often.

satoru frowned, he knew you were uncomfortable now more than ever. "i'm sorry, babe."

you squinted at him, "what are you apologizing for?"

"for getting you pregnant."

you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so you nuzzled your head on his chest. he pulled you closer to him, "don't apologize for that. apologize if i'm not able to get an epidural or something." you snickered as you looked up at him, "ready to read week 37?"

satoru nodded and kissed the top of your head as you laid against him.

"baby gojo is as big as a canary melon. estimating 19 inches, and 6 pounds. at 37 weeks, you're 9 months pregnant with the end in sight." you read out loud.

satoru took the phone from you to read his part, "at a glance, if baby gojo was born this week, they'd still be early term. baby gojo is practicing for their grand entrance by inhaling and exhaling amniotic fluid, blinking, and turning from side to side. baby gojo can grab onto things now. baby gojo is likely to be sucking their thumb a lot these days in preparation for feeding sessions."

"it says babies grow about a pound a week. the average fetus weighs about 6 pounds. and that boys are likely to be heavier than girls." you read, "since it's a little crowded in your uterus now, baby gojo may not be kicking as much. instead, they're probably stretching, rolling and wiggling." you laughed because baby gojo was still kicking strong, sometimes it was painful, stopping you in your tracks in the middle of the day.

satoru blue-eyes widened as he read the next paragraph, "here's an interesting fact. at birth, baby gojo's head, which is still growing, will be about the same circumference as their chest."

"i pray to god that baby gojo doesn't have your big head or my vagina is toast." you joked.

satoru glared at you, shaking his head while chuckling. he went back to read through some of the pregnancy symptoms. he noticed that you experienced a majority of the symptoms on the list: the pelvic pain, leg cramps, pregnancy brain, and insomnia.

because you were of small stature, you started experiencing more pressure on your pelvis as the weeks went by. sometimes satoru would hold up your belly for you with his infinity whenever you were close by, and you were thankful for such a helpful cursed technique.

before bed, satoru would feed you bananas and massage your legs to help with the leg cramps. with your breasts and stomach as big as they've ever been, you finally got your stretch marks. for the majority of your pregnancy you were stretch mark-free, they didn't appear until the third trimester. satoru liked to call them your 'tiger stripes' when he would help you apply stretch mark creams and oils to your body. him helping you apply those creams and oils was a form of intimacy you didn't know you needed during this time. satoru always knew how to make you feel confident again.

your pregnancy brain caused you to be a little forgetful, so the acrylic whiteboard in the kitchen was your bestfriend. you left little reminders on the board for yourself, satoru, and megumi throughout your pregnancy.

lastly, it was hard for you to sleep now that you were in the home stretch of your pregnancy. every sleeping position was uncomfortable, and you had to wake up multiple times a night to use the bathroom. you never got a consistent amount of sleep.

even though being pregnant was uncomfortable, you experienced some of the best memories with satoru this year: your trip to mexico gifted from touya, your surprise pregnancy announcement, asking shoko to be baby gojo’s godmother, and all the special intimate moments with satoru. your unborn baby was already so loved by everyone. you couldn't have asked for a better accidental pregnancy.

you and satoru laid on the couch together all afternoon, enjoying each other's presence in this chaotic life for jujutsu sorcerers. catoru purred and slept next to you two on the chaise, your spirit birds perched on their stands as they watched over the apartment. you dozed in and out of sleep throughout the day as sleep was rare for you lately.

you felt satoru's warm hand on your belly again, you held his hand and lifted your head, emerald greens looking towards him.

"babe, i have a serious question." you said softly.

raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, he asked you curiously, "and what's your serious question?"

"are you ready to be a dilf?" you laughed.

"are you ready to be a milf?" he asked you back, chuckling, "cause you are definitely a milf, babe."

you smiled at satoru as he continued to plant soft kisses on your hand, "yeah, i'm ready to evict baby gojo."

little did you and satoru know, baby gojo would break your water next week to make their dramatic entrance into the world. yours and satoru's lives would be forever altered.

satoru and oc gojo girlfriend go on a baby moon from week 27, read the bonus chapter, ‘baby moon’ here.

or are you ready to meet baby gojo? read the next chapter, ‘hello baby’ here.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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lululandd · 1 year ago

Text

rabid; (i.)

pairing: platonic simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 956

warnings: comedy, aftermath of torture, mild gore

note: heheh >:3 (also on ao3)

summary:

ghost has a love-hate relationship with his neighbour of six years. on one hand they’re quiet enough, nice enough, considerate enough and never once had bothered him in any way, but on the other hand he is a highly trained soldier with highly trained senses and the things he hears travelling through his walls are batshit insane.

part i. | part ii. | part iii. | part iv.

He guesses they are an entertainer or a comedian or some sort because on rare occasions, they—whether he wanted to or not—made him laugh. The absurdity of the questions and things that came out of their mouth really makes him feel like he has a glimpse of what a worry free civilian life could be.

On one particularly rowdy night he heard the one sided conversation about anal, which rapidly escalated to how peoples arseholes can stretch up to seven inches in diameter and therefore, theoretically could fit two smaller raccoons.

He listened in fascinated horror how that thought came into their mind, how they associated arseholes with raccoons, and why in christ fuck did they sound so cheerful about it. Maybe he’s just a battle hardened, workaholic soldier that has only seen carnage and suffering, but even if such a thought came to his mind, it would not be classified as a happy thought and he would not laugh about it.

Until eight months later where he’s interrogating an American that he really wants to just straight up murder and remembers his neighbour.

He opens the door that leads to the rest of the warehouse and calls out to his men, “I need two raccoons. Small but not pups.”

He was met with silence and a confused looks, but he saw Gaz and Soap get on it and round up several soldiers.

“Alive!” He barked at them.

—

Soap looked worriedly at Gaz, “What do you think he’s gonna do with live raccoons?”

The other man shrugged, “You think he’s gonna threaten him with rabies?” Gaz gnashed his teeth together, “Let them bite him or something?”

One of the Lance Corporals behind them chimed, “I kinda wanna see.”

In came a chime of ‘yeah’s from the other men.

—

Ghost had made sure the American in question heard his request of the live raccoons before taking a seat on the table holding all his tools and lighting up a cigarette.

He looked at the man’s surroundings, the litter of teeth and nails on the floor, three parts of his severed ring finger, and the blood splatters on the makeshift plastic floor. The cleanup crew’s gonna at least be a little happy about that.

“You like raccoons, mate?” He offers, lighting what seemed to be his third cigarette.

The question caught him off guard. “What?”

“Raccoons. Trash pandas. Those chubby lil wankers with grubby hands.” He curled his palms and did mock scratching motions.

“You’re crazy.” He spat.

“I am.” For even thinking of trying this over his neighbour’s demented jokes.

Fourty five minutes later Gaz came knocking on his door.

“Got your furry friends, boss.” He gestures at a cage sitting by the door. The animals seemed calm, they couldn’t have just nicked it from some random bins and throw them in there.

“Cheers, Gaz.” He saw the man linger. “Anything else?”

“Can we observe, Sir?”

“No.” came his quick answer. If he really has to do what he thinks he’s gonna do, he’d rather his men not see it. They’ve seen so much in their line of work already, he doesn’t want to add to their nightmares.

Imagining one of them having PTSD from seeing a harmless animal makes him feel guilty.

He took the cage from Gaz’s hands and placed it nicely on the floor, a little way away from the American’s feet.

“You know that saying?” He puts on his best southern accent, mimicking Graves. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

The man’s eyes widened and he tried so hard to shift further into his seat, trying to create as much distance between them as possible. Ghost lets the moment go on for a little longer. It makes all the difference, really; whether you rush into the torture or letting them sit and wonder about the choices they think they have.

“I heard somewhere that your arse can stretch up to seven inches in diameter.” He pointed at the raccoons, “The normal sized bastards can fit into a four inch hole. But I’m being nice today and gonna give these smaller ones some wiggle room.”

He can’t help but crouch closer to the cage and coo at them as the man starts yelling for help.

“So.” He said in a calm voice, listing his head slowly when the man had stopped screaming his throat dry. “Since I’m a very nice man today I’m gonna give you two options.”

Fat rolls of tears had started to run down the man’s cheeks, his chest heaving as he begged for mercy.

“Do you want me to sedate these raccoons so they don’t claw your insides or do you wanna..” He remembers a word that floated into his flat one night, “..rawdog it?”

—

Soap had never seen a cleaner interrogation room before. Not from Ghost, the man’s usually so brutal about it. He remembers seeing parts of a live brain one time because Ghost had bashed their skull so badly and remembered having to shoot the person dead out of pity. But today? The intel was good, the man was still alive with almost all of his body parts; save for some of his teeth and nails and the chopped up finger,

and the raccoons.

They were alive and Ghost seemed to never have opened the cage at all.

—

When Ghost came home that month he heard his neighbour say something about a ‘little birthday celebration’ for tomorrow. He checked his watch and decided to walk to the bakery and get them some cake. That last operation went smoothly, and he has them to thank.

He can’t wait to hear what other mental things that will come out of their mouth in the future and apply them to his work.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

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imaginesmai · 9 months ago

Text

Hewn City, where nightmares come true

Maybe this is a bit long and excesive? Maybe, but we love good angst, hurt and comfort. Thank you @marscardigan for your request! Feel free to send anything else. This is places inside the baker!reader universe, but it's independent. You can find other parts here.

Plot: your anonymity makes you a great choice for Rhysand's mission, even if Azriel doesn't agree. But you'll do anything to discover more of Azriel's life, even the worst part. So you decided to take that trip to Hewn City - where nightmares do come true.

Warnings: males being a lil creepy with their comments, Keir, violence.

“Az” you sighed for the third time that afternoon, staring at your stubborn mate. “It’s no big deal. Feyre has done it, Nesta has done it. Why can’t I?”

“They have done it because they have powers. They…” his words died when you raised a brow and dared him to tell you that they could and were different. More capable. “It’s not even about them, don’t change the topic. It’s about us. I don’t want you to do it”

“So, it’s fine when you leave for weeks to the mountains with a target on your back but I can’t accept one dance where you and your brothers will be watching?” you asked, and he finally looked away.

Azriel and you had been arguing about the same topic for two days in a row. Since Rhysand, who you had become fond of in the last years, asked you for a favor. He had been hoping you would come with them to Hewn City and dance with some males while they snooped around. You didn’t even have to carry weapons with you, since you would be introduced as part of their family.

It wasn’t dangerous or risky. It was a favor from your friend because Hew City didn’t know you. An unfamiliar face they would be too preoccupied studying to notice Feyre, Nesta and Mor sneaking into their studies. They would play the hard part. You just had to dance.

And Azriel was having a tantrum about it.

“The fact that you can’t even answer that question is enough. I’m going. And you can’t decide what I do and don’t”

“I can talk Rhysand out of it” he tried, not looking at you.

“Oh, like you haven’t tried that already”

You decided the conversation was finished and turned around to finish decorating the trail of cookies. Azriel was leaning against the counter, his usual place to watch you work in silent adoration. The storm in his eyes died down a little at the familiarity of your movements, at the comfort of the bakery.

Yes, he was mad. Mad at Rhysand because he hadn’t asked him first, mad at himself for considering he was your owner and needed to be asked for permission for you to do something. Mad at you because you couldn’t see how tight his heart became at the thought of you in someone else’s arms, dancing in a room full of vipers.

Half of the citizens of that rotten place had been tortured by Azriel at some point, and the other half had been gently tortured. He trusted Rhysand’s glamour to hide your bonded scent, but his rebel heart seemed to think otherwise.

For a while, he watched you work in silence, hands working your own particular magic with common ingredients. The fire eventually left his soul and he felt guilty enough to leave his spot. When you set the last trail in the oven, he took advantage of the vulnerable position and wrapped himself around you.

His wings created a small cocoon for the two of you, light barely seeping through the thick membrane.

“I’m sorry for being an overbearing mate” he apologized against your earlobe, letting his warm breath make you squirm. “You’re amazing and brave and you can handle everything you want, but I worry because I love you”

“And I’m also too smart and beautiful for your own good” you scoffed when one of his hands sneaked beneath your apron. “We’re gonna burn those cookies”

“Won’t the only thing burning for you tonight”

You bursted in a loud laugh and the rest of his anger faded away, giving up space for the usual love and adoration for you. In his arms, he could hear your heartbeat, smell the faint remains of vanilla from the previous muffins and your shampoo.

Azriel pushed you farther into his arms, and you didn’t complain. One of his arms was settled on your waist, under your apron but with no further intentions. The other one crossed your chest, and you gripped his forearm between your hands.

He was all hard muscles and soft skin. Even under his usual leathers, you could feel the familiar outlines of his arm. You looked up from his chest and saved the height different when you locked your eyes with him. From upside down, he was just as beautiful as ever.

His lips curved into an apologetic smile, although you were certain it wouldn’t be the last time you heard from it. Azriel was just a little less stubborn than you.

“I forgive you on one condition. You don’t bring it up to Rhys anymore. He already feels bad about it, you don’t have to remind him” you gently reprimanded him. “If he could, he would have searched for other solution. And I’m happy to help”

“You’re happy here, but down there it’s horrifying. And Rhysand and Hewn City can fuck – “

“Besides, I like doing things with you. From your other life”

Azriel’s life as the shadowsinger, as the spymaster, was still a bit hidden to you. You had gotten him to open up little by little, and he had shared some details that had you almost regretting your decision. But it was true that, besides doing Rhysand a favor, you wanted to do it with Azriel. Watch him work and be that tough male everyone feared.

That point made him roll his eyes and drop the matter with a brief kiss to your nose. He captured it between his teeth and playfully bit you, which earned him a swift elbow to his groin. Azriel teared apart just in time for the next customer to arrive.

With a sharp look that promised worst thing than an elbow, you left him in charge of the cookies and went to the front door.

Azriel hadn’t been allowed to see you before he big night. He had tried, but had received an arguable reason – that he would leave his smell all over you. As if he was a teen with hormone problems that couldn’t control himself. He was still fuming about it as he waited in silence by the throne, still pouting but intimidating.

His shadows were scattered all over the room, and he was purposefully ignoring Cassian’s warning glances. The last thing he could do to show his discomfort was terrorize a little their guests.

Rhysand had been introducing you in the dinner hall, where he hadn’t been allowed in. For centuries, the rules had kept Illyrian out of the finest and most elegant parts of the city, and it was one of the few rules he liked. He avoided pointless and tedious conversations waiting in the throne room.

“I bet Rhys he would wear line for a week you won’t last more than five dances” Cassian muttered under his breath, not looking away from the early guests. “Mor placed it at two”

“Glad my discomfort brings you joy, Cassian” he replied. “I plan to endure the whole night, if only for your troubles. What did Rhys bet?”

“Sex ban for a week”

Azriel rolled his eyes and finished the conversation. He was in for a long night, and he would try to endure it for you. Because you had looked so excited to be part of the plot, so bright and happy, he would never smudge that out.

The remains of your smile warmed his heart, and he relaxed a bit. You had been sitting right by his side as Rhysand went over the last details the previous night, listening to him like a hawk. Where you needed to dance, opposite from the entrance. Who you needed to charm or avoid, what you needed to act like.

He hated all of that, but he couldn’t deny that it made you happy. And whatever made you happy was worthy. The part he couldn’t stand was his absence during the grand dinner, during your introduction. It would raise many suspicions since Azriel never accompanied Rhysand there, therefore he had to wait at his usual spot.

Rotten on the spot with unusual nerves and doubts, he listened with trepidation the incoming steps.

“Don’t make me lose the bet. You don’t want to see me in a sex ban. Or Nesta” his brother announced quickly before the big doors opened.

“Shut up” Azriel hissed.

“A fair warning”

Rhysand walked in with cold indifference, Feyre walking by his side like the queen she was. His high-lord deemed worth the risk shoot him a warning glance, and Azriel thanked him, because it half-prepared him.

You walked right behind them, talking softly with Mor, and you were stunning. Beautiful. Bright. Radiant beyond the stars.

Azriel found the simplicity of your bakery uniform charming and perfect. The constant stains on your clothes, the sunny dresses you wore for your dates. Even training clothes made him stare longingly.

The dress you were wearing was long and dark, hugging all your curves and letting your left leg at plain sight. The cleavage lowered down to your waist, so low he could see the burnt scar you had gotten when you started your bakery. It showed your shoulders, your arms covered by a transparent, thin sheet of stars and bright dots. Azriel was glad he got a moment to digest the sight before seeing your exposed back.

You were so beautiful he stopped breathing, that he lowered his guard for the first time in that place. Someone could have tried to assassinate him from the front and he wouldn’t have seen them coming. Not when you were looking like a dream come true.

Rhysand was by his side before he could tear his eyes away from you, Feyre on his right.

“You may dance and drink and do whatever you like tonight” Rhysand motioned with a vague hand around. “But kneel first at your majesties”

“Lower” Cassian roared when only their heads lowered.

They all fell to their knees, as you and Mor watched by the side. While all their eyes were fixed on the ground, you looked at Azriel for the first time. He tugged frantically on the bond, proving Cassian wrong and behaving exactly like a hormonal teenager. You pulled back with a small smile – so small, so hesitant, that Azriel frowned.

It was different from the radiant one you had gifted him so many times during the last days.

He didn’t have to bother looking at Rhysand to have him speaking mind to mind.

“It’s her first time, she’s just nervous” his voice broke through the mental barriers, wary and full of concern. Azriel forced himself to look away from you, for your safety and his.

“What happened?”

“Nothing”

Rhysand knew him well enough to know he didn’t believe his answer, so he was met with flash of images of the previous dinner. How you had been introduced under predatory eyes, how your smile had died down a bit at the darkness and the coldness in their stares. Azriel’s whole body became alert as he watched through Rhysand’s eyes the dinner, no one daring to come close to you.

It would be different now, he knew, so he steeled his nerves as the first fae rose his head.

They rose up one by one, and when Rhysand just kept mumbling something in Feyre’s ears, they deemed safe to start moving. Music started playing and males started looking for the company of women. Azriel’s neck vein pulsed painfully when a lesser fae walked up to you and Mor, asking for your hand.

From up there, he could smell your hesitance. You would follow the plan, as Mor stepped out with a small vow, Nesta nowhere in side. Feyre would leave shortly too, and you would only have to stay there until they came back. But Azriel had to remind himself to breath when you were taken to the dance floor by another male.

He had to give it to the first one – he was respectful enough to keep his hands your waist and not lower them. Azriel felt his power roaring inside him the whole time, and he couldn’t help but stain his ears to listen to the conversation.

Through the dances you granted, he did that, ignoring the rest of the world and looking without seeing through the room.

You’re beautiful, how is it we haven’t seen you around earlier?

I have a son, he has lands and power. Would you like to know him?

I was hoping to catch you all night. What is such a sweet flower like you doing here?

You smell nice, unbonded

Rumors say you are an unmarried female. Such a pity

The comments grew more unfortunate the longer the night went. Rhysand power was gently holding him in place, reminding him the importance of giving the girls time. The High lord was looking too much at you, for his sake, so they wouldn’t notice Azriel acting like a boiling bull next to him.

And that started to draw unwanted attention, the notice of his High Lord staring at a woman. You were nothing like the female that had walked hours ago into the ballroom. Once you had seen what Hewn City was, what your mate had to work with, you were withering away – and Azriel noticed.

Azriel was seeing every drop of your smile, every muscle you tensed. Blood dripped to the ground behind him from how hard he was clenching his fists. His shadows curled in the edges of the room impatient, ready to attack. He broke every bet they had and then the last male walked up to you.

“May I have this dance?” Keir asked as you were dropped by your last companion. “You are hard to catch, my dear”

You brushed off the last feeling of discomfort from hands on you, all night, and tried to think quick. He had been one of the few males Rhysand had warned you to stay away from, but he had scared off any other options. And your friends weren’t back yet.

“I was hoping for a break” you tried to seem confident. “Sit this one out”

“Pretty things like you shouldn’t be sitting”

You bit your inner cheek, regretting the help you had offered. You had been regretting since you had stepped in the hall, and you had met Azriel’s eyes. The way they shone with worry and concern, the desperate tug on the bond. He had warned you and you felt foolish, because you thought you could handle it.

There were reasons in fate why you worked in a quiet bakery and he spent his life in dungeons.

“Shouldn’t have dance with every male in this room if you’re gonna get scared now” he chuckled, all void and dark. It made the hairs of your arms raise. “I won’t bite. Not too hard”

Apparently out of options, you accepted his hand and kept a straight face when he pulled you closer. If you were honest, you were too close to crying. Your feet hurt, your heart was pounding way too loudly against your chest and you had been touched way too many times. Every inch of your body felt dirty and wrong, and Keir certainly had big hands.

You had avoided Azriel’s eyes all night. You knew Rhysand was looking out for you, maybe to draw attention away from your mate. But that had made more males, the worst type it seemed, to become interested in you.

Keir was the last of a long list you had endured so far. He shamelessly inhaled when he pulled you closer, his nose brushing the space between your shoulder and neck. You convinced yourself it was his nose, not his lips, that traced your pulse point.

“You smell divine. So sweet” he commented, keeping you close to his body. “Have you been taken yet, dear? Has a male unfiled you?”

“That’s not a question I want to answer” you complained. You weren’t sounding confident at all, not with his hand pressing against your waist. It sounded more like another question itself.

“Oh, how I will like to see this city defile you. A little, sweet thing. Didn’t your mother warn you about wolves and rabbits?”

You kept quiet at his words, looking down at your moving feet. That way, he couldn’t see the way your expression broke. You noticed your lip quivering, your body trying to become smaller in his grasp. Just a dance, you reminded yourself. The heat of Azriel’s eyes was still present on your back, Rhysand glamour tight around you.

Keir’s shoes became blurry when your vision filled with tears. So desperately, you wanted to be home, with Azriel. You wanted Rhysand to never need you again, to have Keir moved to another continent along with the rest of that doomed city.

“I wonder if you’ll be as quiet in bed. How much will your father make me pay for you? Maybe we can arrange things for this week” Keir suddenly gripped the edge of your chin and made you look up, with a serious look on his cruel face. “Are you fertile, dear?”

The way he was speaking about you, his fingers gripping your face, was enough to make the first tear roll down. The male actually looked surprised at the sight, but once it had fallen, you couldn’t control yourself.

It could have been like that, you realized, if you hadn’t found Velaris. If Az wasn’t your mate, instead a male like Keir or someone worse. Your eyes searched desperately for him, without need to ask for help.

Azriel had reminded you many times that only one look and he would be right beside you, court matters dammed. He had made you say it out loud multiple times, had gotten you a small bargain tattoo on the back of your ankle. His eyes were already dark and troubled when you met them, his body ready.

He winnowed between shadows before anyone noticed, and then those same shadows were besides you. Keir’s fingers were ripped from you with a sickening crack, and you only saw Azriel’s fighting leathers. His rough hands tucking your face farther into his body, his shadows crawling up to your knees and calves.

They were cool against your sweaty skin, Azriel a calming and safe presence. Your face scrunched in a silent cry as you let your pent-up emotions consume you. You hugged him tight, not looking at the source of the screams.

“Scum” Azriel scoffed at the male in the ground, shooting Rhysand a warning glance.

“This is over. Forever”

“Azriel. They will know”

“Fuck you”

Rhysand could only witness in tense silence as Keir’s body tried to fight off Azriel’s shadows. Always so gentle around your body, they wrecked the male on the ground. They burnt his arms and snapped his fingers, squeezed his throat until his eyes budged. Azriel watched with murderous indifference as he held you trembling.

That was what he had wanted to tell you, to warn you about. You were capable of everything, you were brave and amazing. But that city was filled with trash and they could suck the life out of anyone.

“I want to go home” you whispered against his chest, your knees trembling.

“You have always been stupid, Keir, but you can always surprise me” Azriel growled, so primitive and feral that the room fell quiet. “Let’s see if you can quiet your screams tomorrow”

Feyre running out of one of the many doors was the last thing Azriel saw before winnowing you both away from Hewn City. He let his shadows hide you, but used his wings for good measure of protection.

In a few seconds, you were back in your apartment in Velaris, above your bakery, the sweet scent of summer nights filling the space. It no longer smelt like death and expensive perfume, like rotten flesh and arrogance. Azriel didn’t let you go as you squeezed his middle with a surprising force.

He knew what you needed without explanation. Carefully, he unlaced the dress on your back, his hands brushing any inch of skin those males had touched. Each trembling sigh, each tear he smelt on you, made him physically hurt to go back and kill them all. Pull at their limbs and hang them from their insides.

Rhysand would be hearing for him for a while, everyone in his family would. He squeezed his eyes shut as he listened to your whimpers, that stabbed into his heart like sharped knives. Azriel ripped the sleeves off your dress and could have burned it with the sheer force of his hate.

When you were finally standing with just your underwear, he allowed himself a moment of reassuring. Since the moment he had met your eyes, he was done for. The destiny of the world could have been in risk that he would have had still acted.

His hands were shaking too when he pulled your face away from his chest, cupping your cheeks. They were wet with tears, Keir’s fingers marked on your chin. He watched those beautiful eyes, that had shone at the idea of working with him, carry the burden of that night.

“I’m sorry” you whispered brokenly, your breath speeding up again. “I’m sorry I messed it up”

“You did perfect, darling. You did so good. So good” he assured you with passion, bringing your face closer to him until you couldn’t avoid his burning gaze. “They got out and you did perfect, but you won’t have to do it never again. I promise, Y/N, never”

You cried in his hands, and Azriel broke at the sight. What type of mate allowed their partner to go through that? To have strangers’ hands on them for hours? He hated himself a little bit more for that, but tried to hide it as he kissed your forehead.

He tangled his fingers between your locks as his lips lowered down your face. To your closed eyelids and wrinkles. Azriel kissed every tear, your nose, the edges of your pointed ears. He let his lips linger at the bruises on your chin, and found comfort at having Keir paying for them next morning.

Azriel ended up picking you between his arms, and carrying you to your room. It still held the remains of your excitement – scattered clothes close to the wardrobe, make-up products opened and half-used. He pointedly ignored them as he carefully dropped you in bed. Your arms didn’t unhook from his shoulders, and he didn’t complain.

“I hate them so much” he admitted in a whisper, close to your ear. “I hate them”

He had hated them since he was a child, had wanted to keep them away from you. He considered if moving to another continent with you was far enough, or if he would be forced eventually to kill them for breathing the same air. Those decisions would have to wait until the next morning.

Still on his leather clothes, Azriel let you lay on his chest and draped the sheet over your bodies. He ignored Rhysand’s talons against his mental shields, only hug you closer. He listened to every shaky breath of yours, caressed away with his thumb the last tears you shared.

“I’m sorry I doubted you” you said eventually, almost when Azriel thought you were asleep. Raising your head from his chest, you met his eyes. “You were right. I’m sorry”

“I wish I had been wrong. I… sometimes I wish it was different. That I worked in the Archives or owned a coffeeshop” Azriel talked just as quietly. “Then I could have you with me always. I hate my job, but I love my court. I love Velaris and I want it to be a safe place, so I gotta endure those things”

“I wish that was different too”

It was foolish to wish on things that couldn’t happen. Azriel would die before letting you close to that part of his life again. He wasn’t done by far with Hewn City or his own brothers, but that night he only held your naked body close. Every now and then, he would recall a certain moment of the night and remember the exact point a stranger’s hand had touched – Azriel would caress that same spot, feeling you hug him tighter.

Neither of you slept that night, and you didn’t open the bakery the next day. It took Azriel two days to be able to leave your presence without feeling the need to rip Rhysand’s head off his shoulder, five baths to erase the memories of those hands. Keir rotted in a cell, accompanied only by Azriel’s shadows, in the meantime.

Three days later, when Azriel came back to Hewn City after leaving you in the bakery, Keir couldn’t keep quiet.

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