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covenofagatha · 2 months ago

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Would it be possible to do a part 2 to knocked up and turned on? Where readers further along in the pregnancy and is trying to decorate the nursery but the shade of the paint is off and nothings going according to plan. So Agatha comes to the rescue with her hands. Can it include fingering, hand kink, lactation kink, pregnancy kink and anything else you desire!

Listening to Evermore while writing this was such a funny choice

I'm also planning on having a part 3 for this too so should they have a boy or a girl?

Knocked up and turned on (Part 2)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: hand kink, fingering, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, mommy kink, fluff

“Fuck!” You exclaim, throwing down the paint brush, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Your wife rushes into the room, having just got home from work, to find you blinking back tears. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” She asks gently, rubbing your back.

You gesture at the wall that you were trying to paint. All there is right now is three swatches on an otherwise white wall. At four months pregnant, the hormones are a bit wild. “I told the worker that I wanted eggplant purple and this is clearly imperial! And I can’t build the crib and the stupid mobile won’t stay up, and nothing is going right!” You take a deep breath after your outburst, feeling a little better at getting your frustration off your chest.

Agatha has been working as usual, and to make yourself a little less stir-crazy while waiting for her to come home every day, you’ve taken it upon yourself to start decorating the nursery for your unborn baby.

You came up with a design for the big wall in the room: a purple background with green and black trees. You had ordered a crib online after countless hours of reading up on which brand was the safest. And you were determined to put together your own mobile. Other furniture and accessories that you had acquired were littered around the room.

Maybe you have been a little obsessive lately, especially considering you’re only halfway into the pregnancy, but you needed a project and you wanted everything to be perfect.

And of course, everything is ruined. But Agatha just shushes you, hugging your back to her front, arms crossed protectively over your belly, and kisses your head. “When we have our little James or Amelia, it’s not going to matter what shade of purple the nursery is. All that’s going to matter is that we have our own bundle of joy that we get to love and spoil and be there for.”

You sigh and nod. Rationally, you know she’s right. And then your nose wrinkles. “Did we decide on Amelia if it’s a girl? I thought we liked Harper.” The baby name debate had taken up many an evening at the Harkness house. You both liked the name ‘James,’ but had gone back and forth on girls’ names.

“Mm, we did, but then I changed it,” Agatha hums and you chuckle. She sways lightly with you and you just enjoy the feeling of her.

“I guess you’re right,” you concede. “Imperial and eggplant are basically the same shade. Even though–”

“It looks perfect, baby,” Agatha cuts you off before you can go down that rabbit hole again. “Why don’t you get off your feet for a bit? I can take over.”

“Are you sure? You just got home, I’m sure you’re exhausted,” you say, able to feel the tenseness in her body.

But she kisses your earlobe this time. “Nonsense. You’re the one carrying our child. James or…Bianca?”

You shake your head. “Even worse.” She laughs and nudges you towards the green rocking chair in the corner. It had been a gift from your parents and you couldn’t wait to sit in it with your baby and read them a story or hold them until they fell asleep.

Settling into the chair, you watch Agatha pick up the roller brush, run it through the tray a few times, and begin to paint the wall with purple. It’s hypnotizing to watch her arm move methodically like that, just up and down. Her fingers are so tightly gripped around the handle that you can see every vein in her left hand.

Your mouth runs dry.

You’ve completely forgotten about the wrong shade of the paint.

“After this, I can take a look at the crib, yeah? Maybe it’ll be easier with two people. And what were you using to hang the mobile?” Agatha asks absentmindedly, dipping the brush back into the paint and going back over the faded stripes she just made.

You clear your throat to tear your mind out of the gutter. Your wife is trying to be helpful. “Yeah, help with the crib would be good. I was trying to use string to hang it from the ceiling, but I don’t think it’s strong enough. Every time it just came crashing down.” You look over to where you had left it in a heap on the floor and feel the anger start to come back.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out,” Agatha reassures. “See, this doesn’t look too bad, does it?” She’s painted a good chunk of the wall and you tilt your head to judge it.

“No,” you have to admit. “I think it looks good.” You can see Agatha beaming as she keeps rolling the brush.

After a few more minutes, she has to switch hands and you watch, absolutely transfixed, as she flexes the fingers on her left hand to stretch them out.

Suddenly, all you can think about are her long fingers, perfectly trimmed nails, the pale skin tight over her bluish veins, the way her knuckles pop when she curls into a fist. And then memories of her hand wrapped around your throat, playing with your nipples, sliding inside you,

Fuck.

You must make a small sound because she stops what she’s doing and turns around to face you. “You alright?” Concern is evident on her face, and you blush at her being worried.

Nope, you’re incredibly fucking turned on. Being pregnant has done wonders for your libido, and Agatha is never one to deny you anything.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say, trying to brush off suspicion, but she walks over and crouches down in front of you. You have to bite back a whimper.

“Hon, is it the baby?” She asks carefully, trying to keep the alarm out of her voice.

You sigh, knowing there’s no way out of this. “No, the baby’s all good, it’s just, um, watching you paint has made me a little…” You trail off, hoping she catches your drift, but she just raises an eyebrow. The corners of her lips are tugging up ever so slightly though, so you know she just wants you to say it. “Turned on.” It’s barely a whisper but she hears it.

“Oh, yeah?”

Your cheeks burn and you nod. “Yeah. But it’s okay, you’re painting.” But she tuts, stands up, and offers you the hand you couldn’t stop staring at.

“The nursery can wait. We have five more months to paint that damn wall,” Agatha practically growls, delicately pushing you against the white dresser that you had also picked out this week. Her hands push up under your shirt and you gasp at the feeling of her warm hands on your skin.

Her mouth devours yours, tongue licking into your mouth, and you wrap your arms around her neck to pull her even closer. She slots a thigh between yours and you grind on it, already sensitive.

Another plus from being pregnant: it takes you no time at all to get soaked and ready. You can feel her half-hardened cock in her pants and you shift so that your leg brushes against it and she groans.

“What do you want, baby?” She says, lips still against yours, and your fingers entangle in her hair.

“Your hand, please,” you beg, not even caring how desperate you sound. You need those long fingers inside you, filling you perfectly.

She chuckles breathlessly and tugs at the hem of your shirt and you lift your arms so she can take it off. Agatha quickly reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and she steps back to admire your body.

“You are so fucking hot,” she says, heat in her ragged voice, and it causes a thrill to spike through you. “Look at you, full with my child.” Her hands come up to rub at the slight curve of your belly and she shudders like it physically has too much effect on her.

And then her fingers slide up to knead your already-swollen breasts and your head drops back with a moan. They’ve been so sensitive lately and Agatha fully knows this. Her lips drop to your bare chest to nip and suck and all of a sudden, something happens.

Warmth, and then the tingling sensation of pins and needles, fills your breasts. You gasp and Agatha jerks back. You move her hands out of the way and squeeze your nipples instinctively to try to ease the feeling.

Drops of milk dribble out and Agatha moans like she’s never seen anything so hot. Before you can say anything, her mouth is back on you, tugging and sucking at your nipple and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

Your entire body is throbbing. It’s like there’s a line running from your nipples to cunt, and it’s on fire.

“Agatha, Mommy, please,” you gasp, the pet name having become so much more of a turn-on for her now that she’s actually going to be one. “I need you, please, fuck me.”

She switches to your other nipple, drawing out the little bit of milk that you’ve produced, and her left hand slides down to tease the waistband of your shorts.

You need her too bad so you don’t hesitate before reaching down and shoving them down, along with your drenched underwear. You kick them off and grab her wrist, leading her exactly where you need her.

Your wife chuckles, but it turns into a hot gasp when she realizes just how wet you are.

“Fuck, baby, watching me paint really got to you,” Agatha remarks, lips still against your breasts, and you nod breathlessly.

“I like your hands,” is all you can say because she slides a finger into you and it makes your brain go fuzzy.

She starts with a slow pace at first, curling up and hitting exactly where you need her, but she starts to pick it up when you start panting more and more. She easily slips another finger into you, setting a bruising pace, and you’re already so close.

“God, hon, you feel so good around, you’re so fucking hot,” she groans and you clench in response at her praise. “You look so fucking hot being pregnant.”

You practically sob in pleasure when Agatha’s thumb starts to play with your clit and she forces a third finger inside. When she leans back down to suck at your nipples again, drawing one into her mouth and suckling on it, a strangled cry escapes from your mouth and a feeling more intense than anything you’ve ever felt builds in your lower gut.

“Mommy,” you whine and she curves her fingers just right, harshly scraping her teeth against your nipple, and the dam breaks, pleasure exploding through your entire body.

Your mind goes blank.

Agatha’s chuckles are what bring you back down to earth and you open your eyes to find splatters of liquid all over her clothes. You gasp and reach out to pat it while her fingers lazily move in and out of you.

“Did I…?”

“Squirt all over me?” She finishes for you, wearing the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. “Yes, baby. You certainly did.”

You swear under your breath and she pulls out of you. You grab her wrist and bring her fingers to your mouth, swirling your tongue around them, bobbing your head up and down them like it’s her cock, and you watch her eyes darken even more.

You’re about to offer to return the favor, but before you can, she wraps her arms around you in the tenderest hug you’ve ever had.

“I cannot wait to have this baby with you,” she says softly and it almost makes you fall apart.

You smile into her neck. “Even if it’s a girl and we don’t name her Amelia?” You joke and she laughs.

“We can name them whatever you want, hon. As long as we’re all together, it won’t matter.”

“I love you,” you whisper, turning the embrace into a one-armed hug so you both can look at the half painted wall.

Agatha says it back, leaning her head against yours. “You know, I actually don’t like this color at all,” she says, and you look up at her in surprise. She smiles, able to feel your questioning gaze. “You asked for eggplant, and this is imperial, so let’s go back and get the right kind. What my baby wants, my baby gets.”

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut

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a-hazbin-reader · 1 year ago

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HII

Could you do some hcs of alastor with wife!reader who ABSO(LUTE)LY adores dogs? (alastor hates the dog with his entire life)

I mean...he kinda has a good reason not to be a dog person...

😡

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor Vs Doggo 🐶 Cannibalism, Vox getting owned by dog

Description: ☝️⬆️

Look, Alastor loves you deeply and would do anything for you, absolutely anything

Except let you have a dog

Absolutely not, he won't have a dog running around in his hotel and creating problems

He can already see it

The dog using the hotel as it's personal bathroom, gnawing on his hooves and ruining all the furniture

Humping everything in sight!!

You can have anything else, you can have Niffty! She makes a good pet don't you think?

How about Husk? He's basically a cat

"Fuck you!"

You want a dog, you even have one picked out already

You what? When did you even have time to go look at dogs? He's been purposefully keeping you busy anytime you mention one

The bite marks all over your body are evidence of it

Totally doesn't believe you're actually bringing home a dog until you do, then he's spitting out his tea

"Y/N, darling, what is that?"

"A smoothie."

"You know what I mean."

"Oh this? Our new dog, isn't he cute?"

You can't have a dog in the hotel-

Charlie and everyone else already agreed to it, even Husk said yes just to piss off Alastor

So everyone is on your side and you'll have adequate help, Alastor won't hardly ever even notice the dog

Except he does notice the dog, like all the time

The damned beast is always trying to hop up next to him, only to be shoved off by Alastor

"No furry beasts on the furniture~ The hair is a nightmare to clean up. Disgusting really..."

Not Husk and Angel giving him dirty looks for that one

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to sit next to him, it simply settles for resting by his feet

At least it makes a decent footrest

Or the dog is always hogging your attention, sitting in your lap, laying with you in bed, following you around

How is a man supposed to sleep with his wife when there's some mutt in his spot???

You've caught Alastor glaring at your dog a few times, especially when you're giving him scratches and pets

He wants to be the one to hog your lap and be pampered by you, maybe you could even try giving him a belly rub or two

It certainly looks appealing

Alastor at least thinks he can get time alone with you outside of the hotel but nope, you insist on taking the dog with you

"He needs the fresh air and exercise, Alastor!"

But your husband needs some alone time with you! He's not being dramatic!

Or he's trying to enjoy his breakfast?? Guess who's paws are on the table, begging and slobbering over the idea of a bite

"Absolutely not, you can just forget abou-HEY!"

Looks like his breakfast now belongs to the dog

You definitely make him another breakfast and apologize over and over again

Kiss him and sit in his lap, then maybe he'll consider forgiving you~

Sometimes, when you're sleeping, Alastor and the dog will be locked into a staring match

"I don't like you."

Whine

Rosie tries to sell him on the idea of just maybe liking this one dog, even she's taken a liking to him apparently

Traitor

You make Alastor promise that he won't ever get rid of the dog, OR EAT HIM, OR HURT HIM

And he can't break a promise he made to his darling wife

But he hates this fucking dog with a passion so when the dog suddenly gets out one day? He's perfectly content to let him run off

Until he realizes how upset you would be that your beloved pooch is gone and that gives him pause

Fffffffffuck

Not him spending all day trying to find a dog he doesn't even like, asking everyone if they've seen him

Nope, no, sorry no, ect

Just when Alastor has just about given up and started to contemplate trying to replace the mutt, he hears a familiar yell

"IS THIS DOG FUCKING PISSING ON ME!?"

Vox

Following the sound, Alastor is greeted with the sight of your dog running circles around Vox, who's standing in a puddle with wet pants

For some reason, the delightful mutt has taken to terrorizing him, biting at his limbs only to jump just out of reach of Vox's claws

Maybe it's something he's picked up from Alastor, you certainly didn't teach the dog that

The sight is too funny for Alastor, who doesn't even try to stop the dog, only laughing maniacally

Maybe this mutt isn't so bad

Later, when he comes home with the dog, you notice they seem much fonder of each other

Alastor goes and picks him out a fancy new leash, he starts giving him table scraps and he even invites the dog to be his footrest

Quit putting your feet on my dog

Stop giving the dog fingers!!

You catch him giving the pup a few scratches here and there, almost in an absent-minded manner

He starts calling the dog by his name instead of calling him beast, mutt, hound, monstrosity, ect

He even gives the dog his own room at the hotel with his own fluffy doggy bed

Okay, that last part might just be him wanting his marital bed back

We love dogs in this house!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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borathae · 5 months ago

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↳ Index [Snippet #50 - Roundie]

"When Jungkook accidentally gives himself a bowl cut."

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Warnings: just Kookie being the cutest and roundest, she teases him for messing up his haircut, and he playfully bites her cheek for it, they're so in love, snuggles and kisses hihi

Wordcount: 1.3k

a/n: i don't have to mention what i was inspired by LIKE he is so cute you have no idea i love him so much it's actually insane :( this is also something that ogc!googie would do so i wanted to be self-indulgent and write it ihihiih <3 have fun besties 🧡

“No!”

You heard your husband exclaim this one small word around twenty minutes ago and haven't heard a word from him since. Only the blow dryer, which has been running the last few minutes, can be heard.

You and Jungkook are on a romantic holiday in Japan because the land is especially nice this time around to explore by motorbike. You are currently staying in an Airbnb somewhere in the Japanese mountains. The architecture and furniture is traditional with a hint of modern and the house offers a small private spa area. You and Jungkook have already enjoyed it earlier today, but decided to call it quits for now. You currently find yourself on the sofa in your pyjamas, relaxing with a good book and a cup of tea, while your husband locked himself up in the bathroom.

Except for his very enthusiastic and shocked “No!” you haven’t heard from him. That changes however right this instant when the blow dryer stops and the door unlocks.

“Baby?”

“Yes, Kook?”

You can’t see him yet, talking louder to make up for the distance. Judging from his voice coming closer, he is walking to you.

“So, remember how I told you that my hair is getting too long?”

You set down your book.

“What did you do?”

“Okay so, hah, funny story. So okay, you know how we met when we were both nineteen, yeah?”

“Yes?”

“Okay cool and I looked really sexy and handsome and mature?”

“Thinking back, you still looked very boyish back then, but I guess yeah you did. Why? What did you do?”

“Did you ever wonder what I looked like when I was fifteen?”

“Jeon Jungkook stop the riddles, what did you do?”

He crosses the corner, appearing in your vision. You instantly crack up, coughing out laughter and pointing your finger at him. He gave himself the roundest and cutest bowl cut ever, looking like a teen with it.

“What did you do? Baby, oh my god”, you laugh loudly.

“I cut the bangs too short. I tried to save them by cutting the sides, but then I had to match the back too and I gave myself a bowl cut.”

“You look so adorable, I can’t believe it”, you say, stumbling to your feet so you can run to him and touch his hair, “you have the roundest head ever. You’re basically a circle.”

“I’m not a circle. Baby”, he whines and pouts.

You snicker, fluffing up his sides. They instantly fall back into their natural bowl cut state.

“I can’t believe it, you turned yourself into a boba ball. God, look at you. It’s like you aged backwards.”

“It’s the same stupid hairstyle I had in middle school. Baby, please tell me I’m handsome, I’m a sad doofus right now.”

“You’re the most handsome circle ever.”

He nudges you gently, furrowing his brows.

“Shut up, you’re not helping.”

You cackle, now fumbling with his bangs.

“Of course you’re handsome, my sweetie. I’ve never seen you with your hair like this before, I love it a lot”, you say and tug on his bangs softly. They instantly bounce back into their bowl cut state, reflecting the lights from just how shiny and round his hair is. You snicker, “god it’s so cute. You’re adorable.”

“I'm neither cute nor adorable. I’m manly and sexy. Urgh, I ruined myself.” He whines and drops his head on your Shoulder. “I'll accept it if you divorce me now.”

“Divorce-ha!” You laugh loudly, giving his butt a playful spank, “you dramatic baby, you. I already told you that I love it. You’re very handsome and of course, very manly and sexy.”

He lifts his head, giving you a small grin.

“But…also very cute and adorable.”

He furrows his brows, opening his mouth.

You instantly silence him, “which is a good thing because it means I wanna cuddle you even more often.”

“Wait. This is a good thing”, he says, making you chuckle.

“It is. Gosh you, let me take a picture. You’re so adorable.”

“If you must.”

Despite his initial complaints, Jungkook ends up posing with pouted lips and his hand throwing up a peace sign. It’s his signature pose he does in pictures and he looks very adorable tonight. You giggle at the picture, putting it as your lock screen. You show it to him.

“Look, now when someone asks me about you, I can tell them I’m married to a roundie.”

“You”, Jungkook points his finger at you. “Stop it.”

You cackle.

His features soften, a warm smile washes over his face. He gives up with a fond scoff and a little chuckle, closing the distance by grabbing your waist and pulling you snug against him. You and he sway from side to side, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. You have your arms hooked behind his head.

“You’re lucky that you’re so cute, otherwise I would have to bite your cheeks for your annoying antics”, he says.

“Mhm bite my cheeks you say? Ohoho mister what a thread, especially coming from a life sized choco ball such as yourself.”

“Yah”, he complains and gives your buttocks a squeeze.

“Sorry, sorry last one I promise. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself”, you snicker, rubbing his neck in apology.

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing his hands over your buttocks innocently.

“It’s insane how good it fits you. Up close, you can really tell that you fucked it up, but it looks so good on you that it’s not even bad that you fucked it up.”

“Is it really bad?”

“No, not at all. Your bangs are a little choppy, but it’s cute. Very handsome. Gosh”, you squish his cheeks, “your eyes look even prettier with this hair. It’s like they’re supporting each other’s roundieness. You’re seriously so handsome.”

Jungkook smiles shyly, “thanks, heh. Roundieness isn’t even a word by the way.”

“It is now.”

Jungkook simply furrows his brows and goes in for the attack. He bites your cheek. Gently of course.

“Yah”, you step back, wiping the saliva from your skin.

“I warned you and you wouldn’t listen. Consequences of your own actions, missy.”

“Don’t talk to me about consequences of my own actions, Mister Accidental Bowl Cut Which Aged Him Back Decades.”

Jungkook laughs and hugs your waist. You chuckle.

“Come on you, let’s go to bed and cuddle.”

“Yay cuddles. I swear today drained me. I almost fell asleep in the hot spring.”

“Baby, you fell asleep. I had to hold your head so you wouldn’t accidentally drown.”

“I guess I did. I couldn’t help it. It was warm and cozy. I felt very relaxed.”

You and he get under the same blanket. He lies down on his side, you face him. His bangs fall to one side, now looking like those typical two thousand tens bangs every teenage boy had back then.

You play with them, eyes spilling over with love.

“If I had met you back then, I so would have had a crush on you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm totally. You would have been my type. You are my type, but you get what I mean.”

“I do, yeah.” He smiles and reaches out to play with your hair. “You would have been my type too. Your mom showed me pictures of you when you were a teen and I would have had such a crush on you back then.”

“Oh god”, you chuckle, “I was such a mess though. Did she show you the pic of my clip in leopard print hair strands I rocked with black eyeliner?”

“Of course she did. You totally rocked them.”

“No I didn't, I looked ridiculous.”

“At least you didn’t look like a circle.”

You laugh, “mhm maybe, but you’re the most handsome circle I have ever seen”, you say, pushing him to his back and climbing on his lap.

Jungkook holds your hips instantly, purring his words as he gazes at your lips.

“Yeah? I’m a handsome circle?”

“Mhhm the most handsome.”

“Hah, come and kiss me, baby.”

You smile, he smiles, sharing a breathy chuckle and little moan with you.

“Kiss me, please.”

“Fuck Kook, I can’t get enough of you”, you say and pull him into a deep kiss.

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lovehours · 1 year ago

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everyone has commented on this scene already but i just need to talk about how insane it really is. wilson giving up after trying to find furniture he’d truly love because he’s never really gotten attached to the places he lived before even with his previous partners… which is why he’d just let them do the decorating. he was opting more for comfort than actual care for the homes he would live in.

but this time he got something only house could use. something he knew house would enjoy. i love how he just affirms that he does let others define him... but it's house specifically who does so. like this is the guy who helped ruin all of his marriages after the first one (low-key ruined wilson's attempted reconciliation w/sam later too)... house is the most important person in wilson's life. no matter how much the things around them change, they’re a constant in each other’s lives and wilson is more than okay with that. the fact that he used furniture to communicate that is so... its just so them idk how else to describe it

i can only imagine the gay ass smile wilson had on his face as he picked the organ out and thought about house’s reaction when he’d come home and see it. just crazy. they really should have fucked here

#just finished rw this ep and i need to talk ab it somewhere so here we are #as if them moving in together and that 'everyone thinks we're gay' ep wasn't bad enough... then they dropped this #idk man houses queerbait is just insane this season #side note while watching this clip i noticed wilsons fond ass smile as house looks at the organ... hes SICK!! 😭#hilson #house md

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lessi-lover · 6 months ago

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illicit affairs II l.williamson x reader

votes are in and it's romantic szn, this is as much as my tiny brain can handle rn enjoy x

★ illicit affairs II l.williamson x reader

you jumped and let out a yelp as you heard somebody rap their hand roughly against your front door, the familiar voice of your sister ringing through the entrance as she twisted her keys into the lock and popped the door open quicker than you could even get yourself off the couch.

"mil! i told you to return those keys last week!" you groaned in annoyance, snatching the silver piece out of her hand before she could slither it away and tucking it into your backpocket with a shake of your head. the older blonde giving you an amused look before she made her way to your kitchen.

"just let yourself inside, no worries! it's not like i was in the middle of something!" you muttered sarcastically, pushing the door closed behind you as you followed your sister who had apparently decided that she was now entitled to entering your home whenever she wanted.

"oh sis! how wonderful for you to invite me over for dinner!" she cheered, yourself surprised at her sudden appearance as she enfluged you in a tight hug. "hi mil." you wheezed, using your hands to push yourself further away as she restricted your breathing.

"how are you?" she asked, grabbing your shoulders in her hands as she stepped backwards. "i'm doing good, why are you here mil?" you laughed and she only confirmed your suspicion with the way she danced around or more like ignored your question.

"you've really made this place up haven't you?" camilla admired as she walked around your living area, pausing to take note of the time you had clearly spent cleaning up your apartment over the summer break. the small decorations and framed photos that littered your house catching her eye as she filtered through the living room.

the last time your sister had been over was when you'd just moved out your childhood home and the place was filled to the ceiling with unpacked boxes and unpackaged furniture, which meant she promptly left accordingly when she saw your pleading eyes for her to help you carry some heavy things up the front steps.

"thank you? what are you really doing here camilla?" you questioned as camilla took priority on your couch, popping her sneakers up on the sofa, before you could push the dirty soles off as you grimaced at how in a total of five minutes your sister had completely ruined what was meant to be a lovely afternoon at home by yourself.

"what? your favourite sister can't come over just to see you? i don't always want something, i promise you!" she frowned, looking at you expectantly as she patted down the spot next to her. "mhm okay." you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you took the spare place on the sofa.

"first of all, you're my only sister. and second of all, you always want something from me, mil. spill it." your sister tutting as she batted her eyes in innocence, the girl notorious for always coming over to your flat with less than desirable intentions for things you most certainly were not in the right mind for to even entertain.

"fine i'll be honest. there's an event on at the sapphire and i planned to go with a friend from work but she messaged me saying she's gone down with the flu from the kids she was looking after and i need a fast replacement." the blonde rambled on, moving to sling her arm around your shoulder as you gave her an unimpressed look.

"and i thought it would be nice if you came with me instead?" she grinned, smiling as if you would magically agree to go to a bar you hadn't visited in years and in reason, squeezing your shoulder which only made you roll your eyes as you sat back up against the head of the couch.

"so let me get this straight, mil. you broke into my apartment to drag me off to some bar because your coworker went down with the flu and you have no other friends to go with?" you quirked your head in annoyance as all your sister did was smile and nod eagerly at you.

"pretty much, yeah!" she exclaimed, her smile widening as she rested her head against your shoulder. "you’re unbelievable," you sighed, running a hand through your hair as her eyes pleaded for you to say yes and you knew there was no point in arguing with your sister because history stands she always gets her way.

"come on it'll be fun! we haven't had a night out together in ages!" she said, flashing her eyes desperately as you shook your head knowing that she would get you down to the bar either way.

"fine, i'll come. but no funny business trying to set me up with any of your mates like last time. swear on it mil! " you yelled, pushing your finger into her chest in accusation at the last time she successfully got you out the house.

you let her know how much you appreciated her little dating experiment one last time as she crossed her fingers in the air in promise, your sister casually making her way to your bedroom before you could even register what you had agreed to.

as you walked her towards your room the blonde followed closely behind, already deciding which clothes she remembered you owned that she was going to rummaging through your closet to find.

"what are you doing, mil?" you asked, watching as she pulled out various pieces of clothing that you hadn't seen in ages, opting not to go to any clubs during the last few months and instead putting all your efforts into your new internship that you had moved down to london for.

"helping you find something to wear, of course," she said in an obvious tone, holding up different tops she had brought out from your wardrobe and holding them against your chest. you rolled your eyes as your sister continued to bring clothing piece after clothing piece off the hangers and carelessly throwing the ones she deemed 'not suitable' onto your bedroom floor.

"this would look great on you," she tried to convince you. holding up a tight black dress and a pair of ankle strap heels in her hand that you had probably not worn since you were out partying every free night in your first semester of college. "i can dress myself, you know. i'm not five anymore."

you sighed at her choice of clothing, flopping back down onto your bed when the dress in her arms and the determined look on her face didn't falter, only a few seconds later when the dress in her hands made its way to you as she tossed it over your face.

"great then if you're all grown up you can go put this on yourself and then we can go!"

"one strawberry daiquiri please," you ordered at the bar, tapping your phone against the pay machine as the bartender quickly got to work. giving a small smile to the man as he started making your drink you sat down on one of the stools, laying your hands on the table and immediately recoiling your hands from when you felt the stickiness of the counter surface.

"sure thing. you look like you could use something sweet tonight, darling." you nodded with a tight lip, keeping your smile friendly but small enough to signal that you weren't really interested in the man and that he better go try his unhandy pick up lines on another desperate girl tonight. besides he really wasn't your type anyway.

you slumped back into you seat, seeing the obvious guilt in your sister's eyes as she made eye contact with you from across the room. the guy she had met at the door had his arm slung loosely around her waist as they sat together in a barely visible corner by the window, the both of them clearly having had a few drinks and looked hazy as they spoke loud enough for you to hear.

looking around the crowded club although not one you had commonly visited before tonight you felt weirdly comfortable, but it still felt unusual to be back to the scene years later when during your college days you seemed to be here almost every night, chasing after your then boyfriend who came down with his close mates most free evenings.

that relationship had ended in shambles. leaving you with an all to bitter taste for the london nightlife which seemed to had stayed well and truly alive in your time away, as if time hadn't taken it's toll it seemed the same crowd was still hitting the club on a saturday like you could remember.

it was never nice to catch the person you trusted cheating on you only to find out from other club regulars that the affair had been going on for months and they weren't even aware that you were his girlfriend let alone that he had one to begin with.

the betrayal of the guy you had dedicated years of your highschool life to had cut you deep and even now you still found it difficult to fully immerse yourself in relationships that weren't purely just for sexual intimacy and rather deciding to relieve yourself with meaningless hookups and flings to save yourself the tears if somebody decided to break your heart again.

you took one more look at the guy your camilla was still talking to; his curt looks, arrogant smile similar to that of your ex and you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at how sure of herself your sister looked and how carefree she looked as she spoke to him.

the scars of your breakup were still fresh on your skin and looking at the man from across the room the memories of those nights spent trying to fix your irreparable relationship came flooding back.

the endless screaming matches, the tearful conversations, and the eventual breakup that had left you unable to feel the need for a relationship again.

"come on, can we dance?" you looked up to see camilla standing in your eyesight, you had clearly missed her walking over as you were so far gone in your thoughts.

the blonde was slightly out of breath and definitely a little tipsy, probably from the fact that as soon as you had entered the building she had been dragged off by the guy she had been stealing air time from for the last thirty minutes, you'd never seen him but he certainly seemed to know your sister.

"really, mil? you've just spent the last half hour with some guy and now you remember me?" you smiled in amusement, adjusting your position at the bar to properly tease the older girl as she almost knocked into the table when she moved closer subconsciously.

"could've sworn you invited me here yourself? or did i dream that?" you teased, poking your sister in the stomach as she declined the bartenders offer for another round with a curt wave of her hand. the blonde shook her head in determination as she continued to coax you out of your seat, her hand sliding around your wrist as she pulled you up.

"oh, come on, sis! it's just for a little fun! you can't spend the whole night sulking over your ex." she decided, grabbing your hand as you lifted the last remains of your drink to your lips and she pulls you away to the dance floor.

"leah you're being a stick in the mud! just go find a lay and quit sulking alone with a beer!" beth grinned, slipping her hand around her friends' ice cold bottle as she moved it across the table. "i was drinking that." leah seethed, giving the blonde a dirty look as her other friend, lia passed the pint back to the blonde with a small minded smile.

"besides. there isn't anyone here i want," she shrugged with a shake of her head. the blonde still not able to find a single person in the entire club that she wanted to take home with her, which was not a common occurrence she would find herself in.

the women kept looking more and more painfully straight the more time she spent in the bar and looking even lesser friendly than when she had first walked in.

and men she could quite easily call her mates all only interested in talking to her about football, which generally speaking was fine but the european champion was looking for any excuse to talk about something other than work, but it seemed she didn't have luck on her side tonight.

and it wasn't going to come any faster than her will to stay at the club for any longer as she continued to drink moodily in a booth behind the dance floor, the dance floor she would certainly not be hitting tonight.

admittedly it wasn't difficult for the english skipper to have a different hook up almost every night and it wasn't an unusual scene for her to have a meaningless hook up running out the back door of her apartment, heels in hand and a skimpy dress from the previous night pulled haphazardly across their chest as they tried to escape the discomfort after what would have been incredible sex had brought in the morning.

the blonde had clocked up quite the reputation at the small pub she and her friends were drinking at tonight and if it wasn't for her taken saturday nights she knows her free minutes would certainly be spent back at the bar with another random girl she hadn't even caught the name of hanging of her lap like every other night.

but something was off about tonight, as if the looks she'd received when her friends had entered the club were enough to tell her that she was known, and it probably wouldn't be as easy for her tonight as it had been the last.

beth leaned over to leah's side with a mischievous grin, her eyes trying to communicate with the blonde although she definitely could not understand what her friend was trying to say. the english woman gave her a raised brow, wondering what beth was up to as she cornered even closer.

the blonde leaned in even closer to leah, her breath fanning against her captain's ear as she pointed towards your hard to look at lonely self sat at the open bar. "what about that one? she's cute and alone and possibly waiting for somebody?" beth suggested, her voice dripping with intent as she nudged leah out of her seat with an insistent push that almost had her falling over.

leah followed beth's eyes, eventually taking in the sight of you sitting by yourself, looking ever so lost in thought as you traced patterns with your nails into the sticky counter beneath your drink, somehow entertained by the small indents that in made into the rough wooden surface.

"cmon. don't go fucking waitresses like usual, she's beautiful lee." beth pressured, nudging her friend when she tried to shrink further down into her seat.

"i don't know, beth." leah replied, glancing at the woman across the room. she really did think you were so gorgeous and maybe that was the thought in the back of her mind stop her from going up to a pretty girl like she usually would. "yes you are, she's exactly your type and she's all alone waiting for her charmer."

the younger blonde sighed, setting her beer down on the table in front of her friends with a resigned thud. "fine, i'll go talk to her," leah muttered, rolling her eyes at beth's triumphant smile and the way she wiggled her eyebrows in encouragement of the footballer finally getting up to talk to a girl like she usually would be found doing so.

straightening her jacket and running a hand through her hair, the blonde made her way over to you, her earlier moodiness dissipating as she approached you and could see your face clearer. noticing the distant look in your eyes and the way you seemed to be in your own world, not even glancing up when she stood in front of you.

leah cleared her throat to get your attention, offering a cocky smile as you finally looked up. "hey, i'm leah." she said, her voice dripping with confidence as she started a conversation you were clearly not looking for. "you're not a regular here are you? just coming down to check out the scene?"

you raised an eyebrow, barely hiding your disinterest in the blonde woman in front of you as she so easily read you like a book. "and if i'm not? do you know something i don't?"

leah leaned closer to you, her smile widening, her minty breath lightly fanning your skin. "just trying to figure out why a girl as gorgeous as you is sitting alone on a night like this one. it's not often I see someone like you in a place like this."

"well, aren’t you charming," you replied. your tone as cool as the drink in your hand. "but flattery won’t get you very far with me. i'm sorry but i'm not really interested." leah chuckled, her grin barely faltering at your words as she sat down next to you, silently signalling to the bartender for a refill of her empty glass, the man only nodding with a sneer as he watched her easily start a conversation with you.

"well, pretty girl." leah began, her eyes sharpened on your face as she tried to take in each any feature. "i promise you're not the first to underestimate how good i am and most of london can confirm that one for you."

"you’re not wrong, i've seen that you make your way around." you admitted, a slight smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself barely knowing anything but the girl's first name, you still found it humorous as she raised a brow in surprise.

"though i’m not sure your special charm is going to cut it tonight." you pouted demeaningly, watching as her jaw tensed and her eyes shifted cockily to her right.

leah tilted her head to the side, a smirk of her own playing on her lips as she shifted closer, her hand resting closely next to yours. "oh, is that so?" she gave you her own pout back, grinning when she watched your eyes swell in her direction again.

"well, you don’t strike me as a woman who turns down a good challenge. what do you say we test that one at home?" you eyed her skeptically, noticing the cocky gleam in her eye.

"are you always this confident at getting women into your bed, or is it just me?" you questioned, as the blonde's drink was finally read and she reached her hand over the bar to retrieve it from the bartender's hand.

"just you, darling." leah said, her smile widening as she finally slid her hand comfortably over yours and you let her lock your fingers together as she brought your entwined hands closer to her body.

"tempting offer." you smile, leaning back into the table and crossing your arms over chest. "but i’m not sure you’ve got what it takes to take me home tonight, leah." leah's eyes darkened, her grip on your hand tightening slightly as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her body radiating towards you.

her lips curled into a knowing smirk, her breath brushing your cheek as she whispered in your ear. “is that a challenge, baby? don't think i could handle you?” and you swore your heart may have fallen right there, her lips brushing against your ear as she pulled back to meet your reddened face.

you tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing as you studied her face her piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you, the slight tilt of her chin that hinted at a confidence you were sure had been built from countless nights like this.

there was something undeniably magnetic about her, something that made it hard to look away from her perfectly sculpted face as she stared hard, begging you to look into her eyes even as your mind screamed at you to keep your distance.

“maybe it is challenge.” you replied steadily, though you felt the faintest flutter in your chest that threw you off, a feeling you weren’t quite prepared for as she took your response as a means to keep testing the waters.

you pulled your hand away from hers, the loss of contact making you feel strangely lonely, but you quickly masked it by wrapping your fingers around your glass, bringing it to your lips to take a slow sip.

“so, do you usually get what you want?” you asked, your voice teasing, but there was genuine curiosity beneath it. leah’s eyes sparkled with that recent mischievous glint, and she leaned in just a little, closing the space between you and looking straight into your eyes.

“more often than not.” she said bluntly, her voice poisoning you a dare that you couldn't help but accept. “but i’m always up for a bit of a challenge. keeps things interesting.”

you felt your breath catch, the intensity of her gaze on your body making you lose your focus and you find yourself stumbling to answer back. “i bet it does.” you mumbled before picking up your glass.

leah’s eyes flickered to your lips as you drank, her gaze lingering on the way your mouth curved around the rim of the glass, and she flickered her eyes away when you looked back at her, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“what do you do for work, pretty girl?” leah asked, her voice softer now, the cocky edge replaced by her genuine tone as she tried to make conversation with you.

she leaned back slightly, giving you space that wasn't nearly appreciated as much as she thought it was, in fact you missed the feeling of her touch on you from only a few moments ago when her hand was wrapped with yours.

“i’m in marketing,” you replied, your voice calm, though a small part of you wanted to reach out, to reclaim her hand and never let it go. you couldn't deny the feelings this mystery woman was making you feel since the moment she had sat down next to you.

“nothing too exciting, really. mostly just trying to convince people to buy things they probably don’t need.” leah’s lips quirked up in a small smile as she listened to you.

“sounds like you’re pretty good at it,” she admired, the blonde enjoying your company more than she initially thought she would. “i bet you can be pretty persuasive when you want to be.”

you couldn’t help but return the same smile, a low laugh escaping your lips. “i’ve had some practice.” you admitted, the relaxed edge creeping back into your voice as you allowed yourself to settle next to her, to let the conversation flow naturally even if you had some nerves.

“but i’m guessing you’re no stranger to persuasion yourself.” leah shrugged, “comes with the territory.” she replied, but there was something more beneath her words, something you just couldn't figure out.

“i play football," she told you, leaving out the part that she played for one of the biggest and most famous football clubs in europe and was a regular player for her country.

you found yourself studying her, noticing the subtle signs, trying to pinpoint whether she was interested in you, or if this was the same old ploy just to get you into bed with her. the way her shoulders were so defined caught your eyes, the slight marks on her hands, the way she carried herself. all the while, she watched you with curiosity, as if waiting to see how you’d react to being caught staring.

“football, huh?” you noted, “so that’s where the persuasion skills come from. contracts, trying to get the ball passed up the line, that sort of thing?” leah chuckled at your mocking words, her eyes narrowing playfully as she tilted her head in amusement. “something like that,” she replied.

“you know,” leah began, her voice falling lower, “this place is nice and all, but..” she trailed off, her gaze sliding over to the dance floor where people swayed drunkenly to the loud music, lost in their own world of liquid sourced endorphins.

“you want to dance?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual, but there was no hiding the eagerness in your voice as you locked eyes with the footballer.

“something like that,” leah said with a grin, her hand reaching out to you again, fingers brushing against yours as she pulled you out of your seat, guiding you through the stream of drunken people.

as you found a spot among the other dancers, leah pulled you closer, her ands settling on your waist, the other still holding yours. the music thrummed around you, a steady beat that matched how rapidly your heart was pounding as she snaked her fingers into the cut at the back of your dress.

she was fucking intoxicating and you felt yourself drown in her scent as she pulled your face into her neck, swaying you to music that had slowed significantly since getting on the floor. you let the music guide you, the scene around you reduced to a blur of lights and sound and you ignored it.

leah’s fingers pressed gently against your back, her hands falling down to the curve of your ass as she grinned cheekily and kissed your cheek.

as the song reached its end, leah leaned in close to your face, her lips close to your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “want to get out of here, darling?” she whispered, the words carrying an invitation that sent a shiver down your spine as you thought about what the next few hours would entail.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation that you had read her wrong in the slightest way, but all you saw was that same confident look on her face, only this time her eyes were full of lust.

“yeah,” you breathed out, an excited smile tugging at your lips.

“take me home with you, leah.”

#woso x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso blurbs #woso community #woso fanfics #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #woso imagine

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henrycangelbaby · 6 months ago

Text

In which: This is not going well. He remembers what Y/N said—that he enjoyed scratches behind his ears, although he's pretty sure she had referred to them as "scratchies.”

Logan has to learn to get along with the newest family member.

Logan isn’t always resistant to change; in fact, he would do about anything for his lover, for his Y/N. He spends most of his nights watching the garbage TV of the modern family that she loves, and he even let her get pink tiles in the bathroom when they moved in together, but this might be too far.

He knows something’s up as soon as he walks through the door. Y/N usually comes running to greet him with a sweet kiss, or if not, he can usually hear her stomping around upstairs doing God knows what. But today, he doesn't hear anything immediately when he opens the door, and Y/N certainly isn't there to greet him.

As he steps further into the house, he tries to pick up on any sounds. Is that water running? It's a little early for Lovie to be having her nighttime shower, but perhaps a change in routine was called for. As he approached the sound, he realized that it wasn’t the shower; in fact, it was the sink in the bathroom. He could see her back facing him as she hunched over the sink, muttering to herself.

“Y/N?”

She quickly jumped at the unexpected sound, splashing water before turning around.

“Hey, love.”

He quirked an eyebrow. She sounded rather guilty.

“Is everything okay, baby?” he asked, peering over her shoulder to try and get a glimpse of what she was doing.

“Yeah, everything—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “Is that a cat?”

In the sink that he was standing in front of, he swore for just a second that he could see a sopping wet cat shivering in the middle of it. She finally relented quickly, turning around to pick up the tiny thing and pulling it tight into her chest, causing her shirt to quickly be soaked with soap and water.

“Actually, no, Lo, it’s a kitten,” she continued quickly, “and his name is Squish, thank you.”

“Baby, why the fuck do you have a kitten?”

He could be mad; she looked so cute standing there holding the tiny thing close to her, just like a protective mother.

“I found him, and he was all alone. He looked so sad; I couldn't just leave him there, Lo.”

Okay, he definitely wasn’t mad; how could he be when his baby had been doing something so sweet and loving? He hummed.

“So his name is Squish?”

Y/N lit up instantly. “Yes! Isn’t he the cutest?”

He nodded vaguely along, checking out the kitten closely. It was pretty cute, with white and red fur and big round eyes that peered up at him longingly. He was a little hesitant to reach out and pet ‘Squish’ just yet, but perhaps admitting his cuteness was the first step to that. He shook his head gently when Y/N offered for him to hold the kitten; that was definitely a while in the future.

The start of their relationship was rocky; Squish truly was very cute and made his baby very happy, but the kitten hadn't exactly taken a keen liking to Logan. Perhaps this cat was super smart or something, but he felt like the cat could tell something was up, could tell that he wasn't entirely normal. And listen, it wasn't entirely unjust; he had caught Logan whipping his claws out once completely on accident, but he had felt so guilty for scaring the little guy that he had fed him for a week just to win his trust back.

But it wasn’t just that; whenever Y/N wasn't around, Squish was, well, rather cold towards him. Perhaps it was rather silly of him to read into the emotions and feelings of an actual cat, but he felt that he should be closer to the thing. They did have quite a bit in common, more than he was willing to admit, much to his dismay. But no matter their common ability to ruin furniture, he couldn't quite understand the thing. It wouldn't matter if it was anything else, but this little kitty meant so much to his lover that he felt rather guilty about their mutual distaste for each other.

It goes on like this for a little while; they tiptoe and walk on four legs around each other for a little while, Logan embarrassingly unsure how to handle the little cat except for feeding it every day in hopes of it taking more of a liking to him. Things do not change for weeks.

Y/N has to go out of town for a few nights; she promises to call him every night (after teaching him his way around FaceTime) and makes sure he has Squish’s routine down pat. She leaves early in the morning, giving him a quick kiss on the lips and a somewhat crushing hug before she does the same for their cat and leaves out the door.

And suddenly they are alone together. He feels like a deadbeat father, unsure how to handle hanging out with his kid. Feeding it and then leaving it to its own devices. However, he finds himself rather lonely; of course, he finds things to do. He sees some friends, fixes the broken shelf in the bedroom, and considers what color he should consider painting the bathroom. He finds himself a little lonely; he is the only human in the house, and the only other creature seems to be avoiding him if it's not dinner time.

On day three of Y/N's absence (not that he's counting), he sits alone on the couch. He has eaten a rather pathetic dinner and now sits watching an episode of Modern Family on basically zero volume. The little guy comes trotting into the room. Despite the cat being about the same size as his hand, he can hear its little paws clicking on the ground, or perhaps he is more in tune with his supersense than he thinks.

Squish jumps up, settling onto the opposite end of the couch to Logan. He reaches out to pat Squish, but he gets quickly rejected as the cat shakes off his pat before turning around. This is not going well. He remembers what Y/N said—that he enjoyed scratches behind his ears, although he's pretty sure she had referred to them as "scratchies.”

Fuck it, it was time for him to give Squish some scratchies. He reached out and carefully patted the cat behind the ears. The little guy quickly leaned his head into Logan's hands, rubbing against them with what he could swear was a small smile. Squish moved closer to him, placing his furry head on Logan's thigh. This was nice.

He had opened the floodgates, and now there seemed to be no stopping them. Squish went everywhere that he went, always following Logan around, running around at his feet. He had also taken to sleeping in the bed with Logan. Logan was rather obsessed with having the little thing sleeping on his bicep or chest. Squish had taken residence on his thighs during their now shared TV time and had taken to meowing outside the bathroom when he spent too long in the shower thinking about his Y/N (Squish had ruined his pace at least once with the meowing, but Logan had quickly forgiven him, scared that he had traumatized the kitten again).

In all his excitement, he hadn't told Y/N about this new development in his relationship with her baby. Of course, he had been texting her more often than not—all they had been saying was “I miss you” and “I love you more,” and their phone calls had often consisted of too much talking.

After what seemed to be a lifetime, Y/N came home. She had texted him that morning letting him know her estimated arrival time, but he had jumped to his feet when he had heard her car pull up in the driveway, quickly swooping up Squish in his left arm before rushing to pull the door open. He grinned at her.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Lo,” she replied before he pulled her into his arms, hugging her close to his chest. He kissed her on the head.

“I missed you."

"I missed you too, love.”

He shut the door behind her as she turned to face him and gasped in surprise.

“My baby!” she somewhat squealed in excitement, and she reached for the kitten, pulling him into her chest and kissing him multiple times on the head.

“I see you are getting along well,” she grinned at Logan. He felt his cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, we've been hanging out,” he shrugged.

She reached up for his collar and pushed their lips together. He smiled into the kiss. God, he loved his Y/N (and their Squish).

Squish’s clinginess towards him tampered down once his mommy was home. The kitten still sleeps in the bed with them and often rests himself on Logan's thigh, but he has stopped following Logan around wherever he goes. Y/N has definitely noticed their newly formed bond; she often catches them snuggled together when she gets up to pee in the middle of the night and has to stop herself from cooing every time Logan picks him up, dwarfing the little guy in his big hands.

Late one night, Y/N is in the shower, and Logan finds himself alone with the cat. He picks up Squish, pulling him next to his face and kissing the small guy.

“My baby,” he mutters. “My baby, tiny baby,” he utters quietly, gently kissing the kitten on the head.

God, he was down bad.

#deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan x you #ryan reynolds #wolverine fic #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fanart

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fraugwinska · 7 months ago

Note

I've seen fanfics about Alastor × deaf reader

But what about.. blind reader? Maybe they lost sight in some battle

How they would be confused meeting Alastor at first: did someone turn the radio on- oh, thats a demon talking!

And how confused would be Alastor as his feelings started to grow towards the reader: he just enjoys their company! What else can he do when they like to listen to him spilling the tea and just rambling about everything because of his soothing voice? His favourite listener

Then.. their relationships get a bit different as in another one relaxing evening together Alastor asks if they want to see him..

And on their confused silence he answers bringing their hands to his face for them to "read" his apperience..

Just thought it would be hella fun to read! Not good enough at english, sorry for mistakes

I love your writtings! 💕Stay hydrated and don't dare to overwork yourself ☝

Hiya lovely Anon! <3 I put my own little spin on your idea! I love fics like those, and this one sat in my drafts for ages - I hope the wait was worth it! Thank you so much for this ask! <3 Warning: Contains depictions of attempted SA, please read with caution - MINORS DNI!

The bookstore was always quiet in the evenings. Well, it was quiet almost always.

Hell wasn't the most... appreciative place for tombs and books that didn't have porn or egregious murder in them, so your shop wasn't really frequented much. Occasionally, a new sinner would find their way in, not yet taken by the unpunished excessiveness Pentagram City had to offer, and would buy a book or two, never to be seen again. The rest of your clientele were loyal regulars, mostly elderly demons and imps getting books for their masters in other rings. It wasn't much, but enough for you to get by, live a simple, modest life. Your shop was mundane enough as to not attract the more dangerous ones the city had to offer, yet held the beauty that only an antique bookstore could, with a reading room like atmosphere, mismatched armchairs scattered in between the high bookshelves and an old radio on the counter playing in the background.

That didn't mean there weren't moments you'd have to get yourself out of some serious situations. On rare occasions, the patrons of your bookstore became too demanding or rough with you, thinking they could intimidate or screw you over because of your... handicap. After all, how would you see the hand reaching in the register, or the little spell book slipping into the inside pocket of a jacket. The blindness you were born with on earth hadn't left you in your death, but the enhanced sensitivity of your other senses made things easier for you. You had learned to take your losses, unwilling to let these moments ruin your confidence in your work or diminish your spirits.

You navigated through the little store with ease, putting laid-out books back into their designated places - feeling the backs of the books like it spelled their names, and motion memory guiding you through the maze of furniture and shelves - your plain, long felt skirt softly brushing this edge and that wood panel. What you wore wasn't fancy, modern or stylish attire, but it was comfortable enough. And who were you kidding? At the end of the day, nobody cared for your less-than-ordinary appearance, but yourself.

Your mind had been drifting around between random topics for a while until, on your last trip back to the front desk, your round ears picked up the bell on your door and the faint sound of staticy talking, coming from the direction of the counter. A customer, at this hour no less! But you were sure you had turned off the radio hours ago... maybe the old thing was finally breaking down, you thought with a little sadness. You hurried to it, still hung back in your thoughts and babbling as you turned the desk to shut the little device off so your customer wasn't disturbed.

"Hello, I'm terribly sorry if you're bothered by the radio, I should have turned it off. Feel free to browse through-" you paused mid-sentence as the air shifted slightly. You had turned the familiar knob but the filtered voice didn't stop talking. Your ears moved around, as if the source was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, trying to determine its source, when the other occupant of the store laughed at the surprise written on your face.

"Apologies aren't necessary my dear, but that wasn't the little device here but me, asking for service. Although I'm quite fond of a little old fashioned tune - comes with the title of the Radio Demon, you see." He talked with amusement, or something in his tone seemed powerful and dangerous. As his words started to make sense to you, you held a sharp breath, struggling not to take a step back. Of course you've heard of Alastor, the Radio Demon, but you've never had the honor (or dread) of meeting him in person. Rumors had spread around in hell a long time before you'd even gotten here, stories of a powerful overlord who'd broadcasted the screams and torments of his victims, spreading fear to everyone, from sinner, to lesser demons, to even other overlords themselves.

"W-welcome to my store, sir! What can I help you with today?" You smiled pleasantly, hoping that showing him respect and going out of your way for a courteous interaction could possibly keep you from being torn to pieces. You heard the ruffling of fabric - a hand reaching into a pocket, wrapping it's fingers around a thick piece of paper, along a low, distorted chuckle. "A good friend of mine recommended your store to me, I am looking for a few... unusual books, hopefully to be found here."

You waited into the silence, one second, two, three. When he said nothing, only static noise slowly increasing in volume, you decided to speak again. "May you tell me the titles, sir?"

"If you'd take the list, little mouse, everything I need is on it." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it now. You didn't know when his presence had approached so close to where you stood, and couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not. You sighed, pulling the darkened glasses off you wore day in, day out, revealing the white irises that gave your blindness away. After a sound like a record scratch, you managed a helpless smile. "I fear if it's not in braille, it won't do much to hand me that."

The other demon was silent again, but the crackling static had dropped, and before you had time to add something that wouldn't get you gutted, he'd barked a laugh, sounding genuinely amused and entertained.

"My, isn't that a bit cliché, my dear? A blind mouse? Any chance you have two siblings?"

That joke was new. You dared to husk out a little laugh, too, your hands gently resting on the counter top. "I hate to disappoint, but no. I even have my tail still, no farmers wife with a knife."

There was a change in his stance, his coat sweeping the air as you heard the list was laid on the wooden surface in front of you, surprisingly not crushed or crumbling under the power of his hand. Coldness swept like waves of fog over the front desk and your hands, you pulled them away with a shudder, confused, but your patron just hummed.

"There, that should've done the trick. I'd rather not want to read my little.... requests aloud, they're a rather curious bunch, I believe. Very useful, though, especially those for more creative types in cooking."

You reached for the paper and thumbed through the braille letters one after the other, feeling a long list of more... taboo tomes you were sure wouldn't have even been mentioned in any respectable catalogue. Luckily, you were a glutton for oddities and curiosities, and with a small smile of pride you found that you had every book on the list on hand. Maybe it was this pride thatgave you the confidence so that you didn't reply and instead swiftly jumped ahead, bustling through the rows and pillars of bookshelves. Every step was calculated, from the short staircase to the tiny nook where you stored spell books and tombs of dark magic, navigating past all the tables and furniture to the particular bookcase containing ritualistic cookbooks. Once you had a feeling where a book would be located, you searched the titles by stroking the backs with the pads of your fingers, tapping quickly and analyzing the material and little bumps and nicks of the spines. Once found, you traced the edges of the piece and drew up a mental image in your mind to check it wasn't bent, dirty, torn or had any parts missing. Your fingers were your eyes, and they were keen.

As you carried the rather heavy stack back, the Radio Demon hadn't moved an inch from where you'd left him, as far as you could tell. It had been hard not to acknowledge him throughout the ordeal while your brain just went on autopilot after realizing he didn't mean to kill you, at least for the moment. On one hand, that was comforting; on the other hand, it was absolutely horrifying.

"Here you go, sir. Please, feel free to check if they are up to your standards." You set the books down carefully, counting the number of thick covers in the stack to be sure and your fingers brushed sharp talons as apparently the Radio Demon reached out to inspect the books as you offered. With a sharp inhale and a heated face you quickly drew back, stammering apologies. He only chuckled faintly, the static surrounding him crackling as if it, too, was amused.

You stood silently behind the counter and listened to him flipping through the pages, turning the books around to read their contents, humming here and there. He seemed content with the lot and you were sure that once he'd paid, he would leave, hopefully sparing your meager existence and not leaving any destruction behind.

"Very well! These will do perfectly, little mouse. And, I have to say, you have a very interesting collection. The quality of your inventory exceeds what Zestial promised. You might expect a few more visits from me in the future, if you don't mind."

The last sentence wasn't a question. It was a statement, underlined with the sound of a heavy stack of bills placed on your counter. Your hands confirmed what your ears already suspected - your patron well overpaid you.

"Not at all, sir, but you gave me too much mon...."

But the air shifted again, and a chime and a thud later you knew he had already walked out, his laughter the last thing you heard before the door clicked shut.

“...ey.”

What a peculiar man, you thought, still processing the entire experience. His voice had been darling, no wonder he chose radio as his medium. You were sure his smile you've heard so many demons whisper about was wide and predatory, but he had been so polite. Even the nickname he'd given you had been charming, compared to the names and remarks you've had thrown at you by lesser demons, and you shook your head at the ridiculousness of your face flushing at the memory.

'Little mouse.'

After a long moment, you finally counted the money and put the amount he tipped you aside in your hidden safe, making a note to yourself that you would give it back to him when he'd return. If he'd return.

Weeks passed and the Radio Demon had kept his promise and visited again. And again. And again.

The first time he came back and you, already flustered, offered to give back the surplus money he'd paid you, he was baffled before he heartily laughed and ignored your attempts to return it to him, instead buying three more books and leaving you with even more undeserved cash in your hands.

Almost once a week he'd return to your store, sometimes he'd have a whole list of books he'd want to buy, and he almost never left your store with empty hands. Sometimes he'd sit down in one of the many chairs to peruse a tomb you set aside for him, predicting he'd find interest in it as you learned his tastes in literature, and he'd hum almost happily when you found a new curiosity or a grimoire that was especially hard to come by. And sometimes he just came in for a quick visit, not even intending to buy a book but just to chat a bit. With every encounter your initial apprehension shifted into appreciation, so much so that you'd grow to eagerly await his return, the sound the bell made when he enthusiastically swung the door open or the slight distortion of your radio when he changed the station to one that suited his mood better.

You were a bit enchanted with him, if you were honest. Not only had every interaction been intriguing and entertaining, he'd been one of the rare visitors who hadn't maliciously mocked or threatened you, or worse. And you found that you enjoyed the small banters you could have with him, the fact that he treated you no differently than anyone else. It was refreshing, and each of his visits put a spring in your step for days, no matter how hard you tried not to think about him.

By the time several months had passed, he became your favorite client and he seemed to have an everlasting interest in your inventory as well as yourself. You learned that he was quite a wealthy demon with a seemingly insatiable appetite for entertainment, and always with an eye for quality, which you vowed yourself to provide in return, if only to keep him coming back. You found you could spend hours with only him at the store over freshly made coffee, discussing various literary concepts and historical events he used as references, and it was a delight to laugh together about some particularly odd rituals in books like 'Old Spells to Cure Thievery' or 'Blood Rituals of the Flaying Kink'.

Sometimes, when you'd hand him a new find or a heavy tomb, his hands would lightly brush yours and his voice would drop and become a bit softer, quieter as he cooed his nickname for you - 'Little Mouse'. With your lack of vision, you didn't know how his face looked nor how his expression would've surely changed - but his voice took on a tone that would be fitting for a date, and the touches made you shiver lightly and tingle and you felt heat spread all over your chest and the pit of your stomach when he did. If your body betrayed those reactions on your face, he wouldn't tease you for them. At least, you never noticed if he did. Maybe he had the grace to simply not remark on them, you thought, for once grateful for your blindness so you wouldn't have to see your own - surely ridiculously dumbstruck - expression reflected in the windows of your storefront. But the physical contact between you became more frequent, more deliberately made, and you'd caught his own quiet sigh every now and again when he lingered for just a moment longer before the doorbell chimed and he'd leave again.

One evening, as you were cleaning up and preparing for tomorrow's customers, a soft knock on the already locked door pulled you out of the haze of your radio's gentle tune. Turning around, you moved slowly towards the sound of the interruption, adjusting your dark glasses.

"My apologies, but we're closed for tonight, please come back tomorrow."

There was no reply, no sound of footsteps and your ears strained to catch a whisper of a sound, to find a new hint as to who was outside. Another knock, harder now, sounded and this time it took all your courage to approach. Your hair stood at its roots as your hands rested at the wooden door, your senses tingling that you better not open - that danger stood in front of your store.

"Please go, we'll be open again tomorrow."

Your reflexes, acting faster than your brain, made you stumble back as the glass of your front doors shattered into a million pieces. In a panic you tumbled to the floor, hands over your face as the pieces broke apart on impact. There were voices, rough and foreign sounding, that accompanied the stomping of boots. You shuffled back on the ground, trying to get out of the way before being stepped or kicked upon, reaching to the walls and bookshelves to find some stability to guide you in getting away from what was coming towards you.

"T-take what you want, please, I won't stop you. Just... just take it and leave."

Your words were shaking in fear and the little hope that a verbal warning and submission would placate the robbers. To your horror the voices - two, if your panicked mind didn't fool you - erupted into raspy laughter and you realized then that money might not be the only thing these demons were after.

"You were right, Hank. This is going to be easier than I thought, look at how helpless the bitch is."

"Told 'ya, Tommy Boy. An' the best part..." supposedly the one called Hank said deviously, and you were yanked up at your wrists and thrown over what must've been your counter, your glasses slipping and breaking at the impact and your eyes dwelling with hot tears. You recognized this voice… just a few days ago this demon had come into the shop, just as Alastor was about to leave, lingering around the shop and leaving quickly mumbling a half-asses excuse without buying anything after you asked if you could help him find something and Alastor's static crackled dangerously. The same smell of sharp sweat and wet tobacco lingered around him, making your stomach turn. "... she can't tell anyone who we are. Hoh, look, her eyes are some freaky shit, 'n you bet her tits 're freaky, too. S'not even our damn birthday but looks like we got ourselves a gift. 'Ya wanna go first?"

"You know me - Don't mind if I do."

With a heart beating out of your chest and shallow breaths, you tried to feel with your only free hand for something, anything, to defend yourself with. You had to defend yourself. Anything would be better than what horrific thing they were about to do. There was only the flat, leather bound accounting book close by, but it was better than nothing, and in a motion of impulse and fear you slashed with it into the general direction you felt the weight of Tommy settle onto the counter top above you. His complice bellowed angrily, making your ears ring, and Tommy snatched the weapon from your hand to throw it away. His breath smelled of filth and cold ash, the skin of your throat burned when he wrapped his calloused hands around it.

"We're gonna show ya your fucking place, worthless blind cum-chunk bitch, an' when we're done with ya..."

There was a sudden, instant sound of feedback, a wet splatter and a horrified scream and hasty, fleeing footsteps before a wave of relief washed over you as your neck fell free from the intruders grasp and you heard a familiar voice.

"Oh, my dear fellow, do go on. I'd love to hear the end of that sentence." A low, distorted chuckle followed. Alastor sounded different - menacing. Bone-chilling. If those words would've been directed at you, you would've been mortified. But it sounded like honey in your ears, knowing who the recipient was. "Ah, how silly of me - surely it's much harder to speak without vocal chords."

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as the sounds of violence became ever more gruesome. A whipping sound, a wail and a choked gasp and two stomach-churning thuds of something hitting the floor.

"Well that's not handy at all - you can't even sign your pathetic pleas now. How unfortunate to be in such a vulnerable position, isn't it?"

A thud, then another - your stomach turned as the room got flooded with a different type of warmth. Your lungs and chest stung from the stench of iron and decay and your throat hurt as you realized one aura had vanished from the store and Tommy was most likely reduced to a fleshy pile on the ground. Suddenly you felt a sharp but warm, strangely long but familar hand cradling the back of your skull, pressing your cheek against a broad, angled shoulder, another wrapped tightly around your shoulders, resting under your ears. It was quiet, now - you could only hear your staggered breathing and Alastors static that had gone down a notch or two. You thought his breathing had become more labored, too, when he slowly, gently, let go and straightened you to bring you to a standing position, his hands shifting into their usual shape as they came to rest lightly on your upper arms.

"Are you alright, dear?" His voice was almost back to the tone you were so fond of - almost. There still was an undertone, a dangerous sharpness. Your fingertips instinctively grasped and searched until they met with the familiar texture of his clothing and you nodded.

"Y-yes... I think so, yes. What - what happened to the other one?"

There was a deep laugh, one you haven't heard yet from him. "Oh, my dear, no need to fret over that. I'll deal with that pest later. I should've dealt with him the moment he stepped into your store. An oversight I intend to shortly redeem."

It should have frightened you - should've made the situation so, so much worse, hearing that Alastor planned more torture for that vile creature, probably even an equally gruesome death like the one his friend got. But his words only calmed you. Made you feel... safer. Your fingers lingered on his suit longer than you expected, tracing the detailed seams of his lapels, smoothing out invisible wrinkles on the fabric, feeling the details of the cool, metallic buttons. And he let you. He stood still, allowing your hands to see what your eyes couldn't.

"I can't decide if it's a blessing or a shame that you can't see the carnage I caused. Although I am pleased that you didn't have to look at the ugly faces of those cretins who tried to defile you." He took your hands from his coat and placed them softly on his face. "But maybe… you can try to envision what your savior looks like, hm?"

His hands left yours again, though you found the sensation and feeling of his touch remained where he placed them. Your heart fluttered as you couldn't keep yourself from running your palms and fingertips over his skin, cautiously tracing his angular jaw, making out the distinct feeling and sharp lines of a toothy grin. Then you pushed further, fingers running along a slight bow and over the indent where his brows arched, his cheekbones prominent enough you felt the warmth of blood flushing under the skin as the mental image of his face got clearer.

You were in awe that you could do this, that he encouraged it even, but he allowed you the tender moment, making a muffled humming sound and exhaling quietly under your soft, curious touch. You realized at last that his eyes were closed for you, the skin there slightly pliant and firm at the same time. With the tips of your fingers, you followed the firm, straight bridge of his nose down the length of it and he inhaled sharply when you brushed his lips. The familiar sound of static increased just enough for you to realize there had been complete silence aside from your soft and his steady breathing. He opened his eyes again, slowly taking your hands away to leave a feathery light, lingering kiss on your knuckles as he hummed thoughtfully.

"Now, let me clean up this mess, we don't want you stumble over any... unpleasant bits." You heard a snap and felt the air whirring around you, filling with a thick, fog-like sensation as you heard your floors creaking, wood mending and cracking and tiny bits of glass swirling around you, piecing itself together and returning into their frame. Not even a minute later the shop felt normal again, the unpleasant smell gone as well, and with it the overall apprehension the threat had caused.

"Thank you, Alastor. Truly, I don't know what would've happened if you weren't..." you started, pausing as his hands wandered gently around your face to put on your miraculously repaired glasses. He laughed softly, tapping a gentle, slender finger on the tip of your nose.

"Luckily we didn't find out, did we? Ah, but, unfortunately, I'd say the night has been spoiled for us, given that there's another vermin to take care of." He walked behind you, carefully setting the accounting book you had used as an attempted weapon into your hands, his taloned fingers curling gently around yours as if to make sure you had a proper hold on it.

"You lock up when I'm gone, little mouse. And who knows - Maybe we'll continue to see each other... tomorrow night."

And then you felt another gentle peck, this time on your flushed cheek, and the door opened with the bell ringing, the faint crackle of a radio fading and his heavy, signature scent of burned wood and bourbon lingering around you as you hurried to bolt the doors shut, heart racing painfully in your chest at the prospect of adding even more parts of the Radio Demon to the image in your mind.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #zestial morde #alastor fluff #blood and gore #TW: depictions of attempted SA

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ch33z3grits · 12 days ago

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Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

(coming soon) summary: After a steamy encounter with a sinfully handsome man in New Orleans, Camille DeWaterson returns to her life as a soon-to-be-married paralegal in Houston, Texas. But the incident becomes difficult to forget when the otherworldly stranger waltzes into her law firm, bringing a series of strange and enticing events with him. Terrence “Terry” Richmond, is an incredibly disciplined, calculating, and ambitious individual, at least… that’s what he is to the average mortal. But in reality, he’s a bloodthirsty supernatural with a keen interest for money, power, and beautiful women. When the gorgeous Camille DeWaterson slips from his grasp one fateful night in New Orleans, he vows to track her down and make her his bride. It doesn’t matter to him that she already has a fiancé or a commitment to join two families together. He isn’t going to rest until she belongs to him… body, mind and soul.

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

a/n: hi :) I saw a request for a vampire Terry Richmond fic where Terry is a home wrecker. I waited and waited for someone to pick it up but no one has so I said let me give it a try lmaoo. I’m fairly new to tumblr and I haven’t written on here before, so please be gentle with me. I’ll try my best to include the right warnings and tags. Also, I haven’t written a fanfic in over 8 years 😭 so again, please be kind. This is just something I want to do to have an outlet during my last semester of grad school. A few heads up for this story:

it will be at least 15 parts

I plan to update every Friday

each part will be long (5k+ words)

the story will have dark themes, including dark sexual themes. This is for 18+ audiences only

For now, here is a snippet of the story. I hope you all enjoy :)

warnings: stalking, breaking and entering, light smut? (panty stealing, panty sniffing), mentions of alcohol and drugs

Terry knew it was twisted. Breaking into his colleague's apartment to find the best way to ruin his life was abhorrent by human standards. But he wasn’t human. He hasn’t been human for centuries. So he didn’t give a fuck. Aston McCoy was the one thing standing in the way of him getting his hands on his prize, Camille DeWaterson.

Holding her.

Taking care of her.

Fucking her.

Worshipping her.

When Terry first placed his eyes on Camille during her sister’s bachelorette festivities in New Orleans a month ago, he vowed to move heaven and earth to have her all to himself. So if he had to pursue a little breaking and entering to set his plan into motion, so be it.

Terry's footsteps were silent to the average ear as he sauntered around the luxurious loft. He gazed at the expensive minimalist furniture, carefully curated wall decor, and the artificial plants that were strategically placed in the living area. Sterile, boring, and safe. The signs of a young white man who desperately wanted to be taken seriously and belong in the upper echelons of society. Terry smirked and shook his head. Throughout his long, long life, Terry had run into men like Aston at every turn. Slave owners, military officials, mob bosses… white men who had the world at their feet but were always at the risk of slipping and falling. All it took was one blow from Terry and they were tumbling to the ground. Aston McCoy would be no different.

Although he was amused by the pathetic apartment, Terry grew irritated as he stalked through the space. There were no signs that McCoy had a vice as he rummaged through drawers and closets. No bottles of booze. No baggies of coke. No anonymous flash drives. Nothing that could be easily used against him. Terry scoffed, feeling his eyebrows push together as he approached the last doorway in the apartment. McCoy’s bedroom. He entered the room lazily, expecting further disappointment. But his eyes widened as they settled on the central point of the room: the bed. On the left side, McCoy was bundled under a mountain of covers, his hair peeking out at the top being the only indication that it was him. But on the right side… laid Camille DeWaterson, looking like an absolute angel. Her body was completely exposed due to her fiancé's selfish hogging of the covers. McCoy’s actions at any other time would have Terry seeing red. But instead, they accidentally gave Terry the most pleasant and mouth-watering surprise he could have hoped for tonight.

Camille laid flat on her back, the side of her face perfectly highlighted by the moonlight pouring in as she snuggled into the crook of her arm. Her gorgeous dark brown skin seemed to glisten in the moon’s glow, asking, begging to be licked and sucked and marked. She was mostly bare, wearing nothing but a soft white satin nightgown that dipped dangerously low into her cleavage and was hiked up around her waist. Terry's focus on the task at hand faltered as his dick turned to stone. His tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten his lips hidden under his black ski mask. Desperate to give himself some form of relief, he palmed his bulge through his black sweatpants as he moved closer to Camille’s side of the bed. With a better view of the slumbering princess, Terry's eyes wandered to Camille’s pussy, tucked away from his sight by a lacy white thong, a present he ached to open. As if in a trance, Terry crouched down to run his gloved thumb over the waistband of Camille’s panties, careful not to awaken her.

You have no idea what you do to me, he thought, hooking a finger into the lacy fabric. His eyes snapped toward her face as he began to slowly tug the garment down. He was halfway down her thighs when she stirred, whimpering lightly. Everything in him froze except his dick. His dick twitched as he replayed the sweet sound in his head. Camille’s brows furrowed momentarily, but her face relaxed and her eyes remained closed. Terry waited a beat to make sure she was still asleep. But has dick, heavy with excitement, beckoned him to continue removing her panties. So as swiftly as he could, Terry pulled the small fabric over her knees, down to her ankles, and then carefully slipped them past her feet. In a frenzy, Terry tugged the ski mask below his mouth and pulled the souvenir to his nose, inhaling deeply. Drool slid past his lips as he breathed in her scent. He held back a feral rumble in his chest, feeling his eyes flicker from their usual blue-gray to a deep red. Now isn't the time to lose control, he thought, suppressing the darkest parts of himself. With a shake of his head, he tucked Camille’s panties into the pocket of his sweatpants, sending another shockwave through his lower region.

He backed away from Camille’s side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her sweet face. He was just about to pivot to walk back into the living area. But he heard the slightest vibration from the left side of the room. Terry cocked his head to the side and zeroed in his focus on the phone on McCoy's nightstand. What kind of notifications could he be getting at two in the morning? He swiftly moved towards the phone, gently picking it up. He flipped it so the screen faced him and began to read the series of notifications. Banners from DraftKings, FanDuel, Prizepicks and other betting apps displayed several different messages:

Bet $20 and get 3x back on earnings!

Hurry now to get $1000 in casino bonuses!

Bet now, get instant deposit on all earnings!

Terry chuckled lightly, his eyes flickering to McCoy and Camille to briefly check if they heard him. They hadn’t. So you’re a gambling addict huh, he grinned widely as he glanced down at Aston. I can definitely work with that. Terry carefully returned the phone to its original position. Then he crossed the room once more, returning to Camille's side. He hummed slightly as he softly gripped her right leg, adjusting it to give him a perfect view of her now exposed pussy. Camille sighed slightly, shifting onto her side, unknowingly moving closer to Terry. Terry smirked, kneeling so his head was at the same level as hers. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be all mine soon enough,” he whispered, hoping that his words slipped into her dreams. She sighed in response, still in a deep slumber. With a final scan of her face, Terry pulled his ski mask back over nose, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned to leave the bedroom. He grinned wildly as he began to conjure up the most sinister and wicked ideas to get Camille DeWaterson into his arms and into his bed… forever.

#terry richmond smut #aaron pierre smut #aaron pierre #terry richmond #fanfic #vampire #vampire!terry richmond #rebel ridge #aaron pierre x black character #terry richmond x black character

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bearieio · 1 year ago

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total perv... (price edition)

warnings: price x fem!reader (technically gn!reader), age gap (r is 19+, price is 40+), corruption kink, dacryphilia, praise kink, teasing, free use, size kink, mentions of price recording you and showing the videos to his taskmates, but still possesive!price >:3

a/n: idk he makes me feel things… anyways, enjoy! totally proofread...! (⌒ω⌒)

pervy!older bf!price who is seriously infatuated with the fact that you’re so much more inexperienced than he is. obsessed with how innocent and naÏve you are when he guides you through your first time, not even being able to take his entire length, let alone even half of him.

pervy!older bf!price who loves making you cry from the sheer amount of pleasure you experience when you’re alone together.

pervy!older bf!price who always has a hand on you when you’re out in public. he often has you on his lap, occasionally bouncing his leg, causing the slightest amount of friction to rub against you.

pervy!older bf!price who has bent you over almost every surface in your house. the bed, the couch, the kitchen table, the island in the kitchen, the washing machine (and the dryer!), the outside furniture out on the patio… okay, maybe he’s bent you over every single surface inside (and outside) of your house.

pervy!older bf!price who never forgets to press record on his phone when he’s using your mouth so he can show it to his taskmates back at base, always stopping the recording before it gets to the part where you’re absolutely ruined. gagging and coughing from his tip abusing the back of your throat.

pervy!older bf!price who tells you how you’re always such a ‘good girl’ and ‘a pretty little thing’ for him. loves watching your face turn a rosy color as he calls you the most adorable (and kinda dorky) petnames.

pervy!older bf!price who is obsessed with how small you are compared to him. he loves standing up against you when you’re brushing your teeth, cooking, or even just standing there. he becomes fixated on his broad chest pressed against your small-framed back, and how easily he can wrap his muscular arms around you and pick you up. he can’t help but point out things like his large, veiny forearms next to your delicate arms when the two of you hold hands.

pervy!older bf!price who gropes you in front of the rest of the guys. showing you off like you’re some kind of prize he won. reaching under your clothes at neighborhood barbecues, pulling you back into him and cupping your tits, kneading them.

pervy!older bf!price who douses all your pretty clothes in his cologne in order to keep those boys of his away from you.

pervy!older bf!price who needs to be inside you in order to get all his paperwork out of the way. sometimes it lasts for a couple hours, sometimes all day. but he always finishes just in time to thrust up into your small stature.

pervy!older bf!price who makes sure to tell you all about how great you are, how you've made him a better person, and overall how much he loves and appreciates you :)

masterlist

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #price mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain price #price #john price headcanons #price headcanons #captain price headcanons #john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #price x you #captain price x you #john price x y/n #𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐢𝐨 ୧ *.˚₊

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pekoehoneyncream · 4 months ago

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Ghoaptober # 3

Prompt: Hurt

Words: 5100~

TW: Distressing/Negative Sexual Experiences, Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Restraints, Intersex Omegas (NOT sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

Please note that all the Distressing/Negative Sexual Experiences are not between Ghost and Soap. I think this one is right on the line for dub-con, so proceed with caution if that's something that might trigger you. If this is missing any trigger warning please do let me know!

I've always had an itch to subvert the 'omega desperately needs to get fucked during their heat' trope, so I honestly shouldn't be so surprised that this one got away from me like it did.

Enjoy!

As an omega, Soap had started preparing for his heat a good month in advance, he’d gathered up his favourite nesting blankets and made sure they were freshly laundered, he’d scouted a good Heat-Hotel that was nearby and booked a room, he’d even secured a partner. Some of the other omegas on base had been touting this new matcher app, that they’d reportedly had massive success with, so Soap had decided to give it a whirl and signed up. What’s the worst that could happen, he was no doubt better trained than any of the civvies he’d be meeting up with.

He’d been talking to an alpha named Dominic Wilckes and when the subject of his heat had come up, Dominic had asked if Soap was looking for a partner. With no reason to say no, Soap had said yes. He’s spent heats with and without partners before, and found accompanied heats to be much more manageable.

Soap was in his room at the Heat-Hotel now, securing a layer of waterproof Heat-Sheets over his carefully arranged nest. When his heat was spiking he didn’t care, but when he was in a lull or was coming down, he hated having his nest being a messy, sticky, uncomfortable, ruined heap of blankets. So he’d learned how to weave a sturdy nest and had invested in specialty sheets that would keep it clean.

His phone buzzed rapidly on the table, it was Dominic.

“here”

“safe n sOund solotions?”

“in the lobby”

“whr r u”

Dominic was a nice guy, but Soap could admit that the way he texted was a bit annoying. Having his messages open to send Dominic the room number reminded him that he hadn’t texted Ghost yet. He pulled up his location and sent it to his Lieutenant along with a quick text,

“At Safe & Sound Solutions, Room 348, Booked for three days, Should be back Tuesday.”

His message showed as being read within the minute and while he was waiting to see if Ghost would reply another message came in from Dominic,

“come down”

Soap reread the message, why would he need to go down to the lobby? Maybe there was an issue Dominic needed help with? Confused, but willing to help, Soap texted back a quick ‘On my way.’ and headed out, his riled instincts insisting he double and triple check that he’d locked the door to his room. That he made sure his nest was safe from intruders.

In the lobby, Soap found Dominic leaning up against the wall next to the lifts with a bag at his feet. Walking over, he tried to spot where the problem was.

“Dominic? Whit’s wrong?” Soap questioned,

“Hey, John. Some of the people were giving me weird looks. I needed you to come to show them I’m not some creep hanging around for nothing.” Dominic stood from his lean and stepped into Soap’s space, bringing his arm up to rub a wrist over Soap’s nape. Scenting him. Soap let him, tilting his shoulders so the other man wouldn’t accidentally brush his mating glands, they got heinously sensitive when he was heating.

“Oh, alrigh’,” Soap privately thought that Dominic was overthinking it, if anyone was looking at him weird it was for loitering around in the lobby, but not actually sitting in any of the many chairs scattered throughout. The lobby of every Heat-Hotel that Soap had ever visited always looked like Moses had called a plague of plush chintzy furniture down upon them.

Soap led Dominic back into the lift, pressing the button for his floor. A chime from his phone brought his attention to the fact that Ghost had replied, he’d reacted to Soap’s message with a thumbs up and had sent back,

“Rog.”

Ghost had a habit of reading his notifications as soon as he could, but often didn’t have the time to actually reply until later.

“Who’s that?” Dominic asked, peeking over Soap’s arm to get a look at the screen.

Soap locked his phone, the smile that had pulled up the corners of his mouth falling away.

“Mah L.T. He likes tae know every’hings guid.” Soap replies, watching the numbers of the lift ding over to his floor and stepping out as the doors parted.

“Your L.T? What’s that?” Dominic crowded up against his back as he tried to finagle the keycard into scanning properly and unlocking the door.

“Mah Lieutenant.” Soap pulls the door flush closed, grips the handle to make sure it’s sitting straight, then tries sliding the keycard through at a snail's pace. The light flashes green and he whips the door open before it can change its mind, sending a silent thanks out to Price for teaching him how to sweet-talk card readers.

“Oh yeah. You're in some kinda military army thing right?” Dominic’s realization carried a strange tone of praise.

“Yeah, U.K.S.F,” Soap clocks Dominics blank gaze and spells it out for him before he can ask, “United Kingdom Special Forces,”

A light comes on behind Dominic’s eyes, but a skeptical look crinkles his nose. “But can’t only U.K citizens join?”

It's Soap’s turn to stare blankly, “Aye?” the answer carries a subtext of ‘you dumbass’ that Soap couldn’t have stopped if there were hostages at stake.

Soap watches Dominic’s confused look intensify. Good, they could be confused together.

“But aren’t you Irish?”

“Nae!” Soap refutes, that idea in need of immediate culling, “Ah’m no' Irish. Ah’m a fuckin’ Scot!”

“Oh, I didn’t know Scottish people could join the British army?”

Soap searches Dominic's face for any sign that he’s joking, Dominic looks earnestly back at him.

Jesus Christ.

He’s not joking.

“Scotland’s a par’ ae the U.K,” Soap says hesitantly, leadingly, begging Dominic to spend one brain cell on remembering his First Year geography lessons.

“Oh, Alright.” Dominic shrugs in a ‘whatever you say’ manner, that makes Soap think he’s doing it more to drop the conversation than he actually believes what he’s been told, “Are you already set up? When does your heat kick in?”

Dominic glances around the room, looking over Soap’s preparations, dropping his bag off his shoulder onto the desk pressed against the wall. Why a Heat-Hotel thought its room's occupants might need a desk, was the true mystery of the night.

Soap shakes himself free of the disbelief clogging his brain, and checked his watch, “Wi’hin the ‘our, mebbe twen’y minutes?”

Dominic shoots him an odd look again, clearly thinking something over.

“Whit? Whit’s wrong?” Soap glances around himself, but nothing looks wrong to him.

“Your accent’s cute, John, but it’s a bit hard to understand you. You know?” Dominic's tone is assured, almost complimentary, “It’s gonna be hard to know what you want if I can’t understand you.” He coaxes, like a parent reasoning with their toddler to not bite electrical cables. Like it’s what was best for everyone.

Baffled, Soap stares at him. He’s never gotten flak about his accent from his previous partners, everyone else had seemed to enjoy it. At least, Soap had thought they’d enjoyed it.

“Aye,” Soap swallows hard, his stomach roiling “Eh- Uh- Yes. I can- Um- I’ll try tae- to speak,” Flustered, Soap stutters through his answer as he tries to flatten his accent, “I’ll try to speak more clearly.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Dominic nods at him, “Now,” he slaps at his own thighs, “Where are we setting up? On the bed?” He walks over to the bed, toting his bag, and starts rummaging through the nightstands, “They don’t have anything here, it's a good thing I brought my own stuff.”

Soap eyes him as he approaches the nest, wincing as his tossed bag knocks free a carefully stacked pillow. Dominic clatters around a bit more, checking the minifridge and all the drawers in the desk.

“Where’s your stuff?” He turns back to Soap.

Soap points wordlessly at the gutted dufflebag he’d carried his blankets over in.

“Oh, you don’t use toys? A good omega? Like whining on your fingers instead?” Dominic’s voice dripped with sudden lascivious intent, he dropped his head to eye Soap through his lashes, licking his lips and petting his hands over his bag, “That’s okay, baby. Alpha will take care of you. I’ll give you everything you need.”

Soap inhaled shakily. He must not laugh. If he laughed he’d be out of a heat partner and his instincts would insist on him moving the nest. If he moved rooms he’d have to update Ghost. Ghost would worry about why he moved rooms and insist on checking on him. If his L.T came within one city block of him when he was on his heat Soap was dragging that alpha into his nest and not letting him leave. Soap did not want his L.T to write him up for fraternization.

He must not laugh.

“Oh yeah?” Soap eked out. Dominic must take the breathiness of his voice to be anticipation as his look only grew more seductive.

“Yeah, baby. Come get comfy in your nest and Alpha will show you the presents he brought.” Dominic pats a hand on the nest, then gives it a surprised glance, “These are the blankets you want? They’re not very soft.”

Soap explains about how he doesn’t like his nest getting dirty as he crawls up onto the bed, petting a proprietary hand over his nest. It’s not like the blankets were scratchy terrycloth or anything, they were Heat-Sheets, they were made specifically for heats, they wouldn’t sell if they weren’t comfortable.

“Here,” Dominic reached forward and Soap frantically knocks the hand away before it could tear into his nest. The judging look that Dominic shot him was completely uncalled for. What kind of psycho fucks with an omega’s nest.

“What?” Dominic furrows his eyebrows at the omega, “I was just gonna show you a better way to do it. You could put a soft sheet on top, so you’re not laying on something so rough. I know omegas are super sensitive about that kinda stuff.”

“Nae- No. No, it’s fine like this. Thank you, Dominic.” Soap assures, sliding over to sit on the bed directly in front of Dominic, firmly between his nest and the alpha.

After eyeing him for a moment longer, Dominic shugs and turns back to his bag, muttering something about omegas being so picky under his breath.

“I got you that water you like,” he says, pulling three one-litre bottles of Volvic mineral water out of his bag and setting them on the nightstand. Soap felt warmed and a touch shocked, he’d only mentioned that he likes Volvic best in passing. The warm feeling vanished when the next item Dominic pulled from his bag of tricks was a tall omegaen guard-collar.

“I know it’s usually that alphas wear muzzles for heats and omegas wear collars for ruts, but the skin on my face is super sensitive and I’ll get a rash if I wear a muzzle,” Dominic explained, handing over the collar when Soap hesitantly reached for it.

It was made of good thick leather, fastening with two buckles in the back instead of a cheap zipper. The things that were throwing Soap off were that it was much taller than the typical guard-collar, how it flared out at the bottom to cover over his trapeziuses, and the four D-rings spaced around its middle. It honestly looked more like a posture-collar.

“I was looking into the failure rate of guard-collars and this one has amazing reviews and no accidental bites,” Dominic supplies, tapping at the collar in Soap's hands, “Do you need help putting it on?”

Soap absently nods, not really processing what’s being said to him, and finds the contraption out of his hands and strapped around his neck within two heartbeats. Hands coming up to scrabble at the new pressure squishing his mating glands Soap gives a startled yelp and Dominic quickly grabs his hands. Shushing and cooing at him, giving his hands a firm squeeze when he tries to pull away.

“It’s alright, omega. You’re doing so well.” Tuning out Dominic's crooning, Soap focused on calming his breathing.

In for four, hold for four, out for four. In for four, hold for four, out for four.

With his breath under control, Soap can admit that the collar isn’t as restrictive as he’d feared, he can breathe fine, and turn his head. Looking down or up presses a bit, but it’s not terrible.

Focusing on himself for a moment also revealed to Soap that he’d been so busy judging Dominic that he’d completely missed his body cresting through pre-heat. Taking another deep breath Soap warns the alpha that he’ll be going into full heat in a minute or two and watches the shocked look take over Dominic's face. It’s not surprising to Soap that Dominic hadn’t noticed, Soap’s scent has never been particularly loud and he’s not throwing himself at the alpha like the needy heat-drunk omegas do in films.

The next few minutes are admittedly blurry to Soap as his body plunges into full heat, when he comes back to himself he’s face down with his ass up in the air and Dominic is playing between his thighs. By the wetness dripping down his legs Soap guesses that he’s already cum once, that or Dominic drools more than Eas A’ Chual Aluinn.

Giving a pitching whine, Soap tries to get up onto his elbows and finds that the guard-collar wasn't Dominic’s only gift for him. There are soft leather cuffs secured around his wrists, latched closed with simple carabiners and attached to one of the D-rings of his collar with a short chain. Stopping him from lifting his head more than about twenty centimetres away from his hands and, consequently, the bed.

“Do- Dominic?” He pants through his confusion and feels the man pull his tongue and what felt like three fingers out of his hole.

“Back with me, omega? You’re doing so well. Getting so wet for me. Cumming so pretty.” Dominic rumbles, reverent fingers coming back to pet over Soap’s twitching hole.

Soap pushes back into the touch, feeling achingly empty, his lower belly cramping with the need to be filled.

“Alpha, please,” he whines “Need your knot, please, please, knot me, ple-”

“Hush.” Dominic commands and the omega’s jaw snaps shut, “I’m not done with you yet, omega. Be quiet and settle down. Take what alpha gives you.”

Tears prickled behind Soap’s eyes. He got his elbows under himself and lifted his head up off of the nest as far as he could, breathing easier without the blankets in his face. He yelps when hot suction suddenly seals around his cocklet with three fingers plunging back into his hole to bully his sweet spot. Thighs shaking, Soap is pushed into another orgasm, face falling back into the sheets, muffling his squeals when Dominic doesn’t let up. Hard sucks and forceful strokes propelling him through one orgasm and directly into the next.

His honest yelping coaxes Dominic off his cocklet, “Poor omega,” The alpha croons, petting over his thighs and grabbing at his ass, “So needy. It’s okay, alpha’s here. Alpha will give you what you need.”

“Knot- Knot me. Alpha, please. Need it.” Soap begs shamelessly, the heat roaring through him stoked by his untied orgasms, his body painfully demanding for him to be knotted and filled.

“I don’t know,” comes Dominic’s teasing reply, leaking more false sympathy than Soap’s hole was leaking slick, “Have you been a good omega? Do you deserve my knot?”

“Yes, Yes.” Soap nods as much as the collar allows, still careful to smother his accent, “Please, need it.”

“Okay, omega. Alpha will help you.” Dominic’s fingers pull out of him and an actual sob escapes Soap when instead of a cock, he feels a tongue push into his hole. He purposely turns into the sheets to muffle his cries, his instincts rioting and his climbing temperature making him feel sick.

A brief unwelcome stroke over his asshole yanks him from his spiral. His head snaps up, eyes wide and stinging with unshed tears. Did he imagine it? His chest heaves and he freezes perfectly still, staring blankly down at the tangle his nest has become.

A finger, wet with what he can only assume is his own slick, prods past his rim up to the second knuckle and Soap gives a startled yowl, “Nae! Nae! Donnae do tha!”

“No?” Comes Dominic’s skeptical tease, his free hand squeezing goadingly at Soap’s hip, “My poor Omega doesn't want all his heated holes nice and full?”

Soap frantically shakes his head, lacking words, but filled with denial. Tears knocked loose and coursing unseen down his cheeks.

“Alright,” Dominic agreed, no less skeptical, but slowly withdrawing his finger regardless.

When Soap felt that same finger slide down to line up with his hole’s entrance the omega is willing to admit that he may have come a little unglued.

He snarled, wriggling and kicking back at the alpha, yanking bruises into his wrists in the shape of the cuffs that bound them. Soap managed to thrash his way upright and huddled up against the headboard. Hissing at the flabbergasted alpha knelt at the foot of the bed, giving another throat tearing snarl when Dominic tried to reach for him. His instincts in full control and having decidedly assessed the alpha to be a bad heat partner.

Keeping his full attention on the man, Soap brought his wrists up and bit open the carabiners, untethering the cuffs from the collar then unfastening the cuffs to slide them off altogether. His freed hands immediately moving behind his neck to unbuckle the collar, fumbling blindly and growling with bared teeth when the alpha made a move towards him. Managing to finagle the first buckle loose, he unhooked the second with much more finesse. Tossing the collar aside, Soap heaved a breath of relief, hands coming up to rub at his sore mating glands, the glands feeling nearly bruised from the constant pressing of the collar.

“John, Calm down,” Dominic spoke up, voice slow and hesitant, “Everything’s fine, stop freaking out,”

Soap would have liked to close his eyes and regroup, but really didn't like the idea of leaving Dominic unsupervised. Instead he started up his breathing exercises again while keeping the alpha firmly within his sights.

In for four, hold for four, out for four.

“That’s good. Just calm down,” Dominic praised, stretching forward to reach for Soap’s drawn up knees.

Soap tossed the idea of regulating his breath out the window and drew himself up, “Dominic,” He ground out of a throat that only wanted to produce growls, “Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

Dominic sat back on the bed, stymied, thoroughly confused, and a little offended.

Soap’s temperature was spiking, though the want to be knotted and filled had completely vanished. Falling forward onto his hands, Soap panted for air, sweat pouring down his skin. His vision was fading, the sound of Dominic saying something coming through muffled, like his ears were stuffed with cotton. Chills and prickles raced up his spine to dance over his scalp. His throat felt like it was shrinking to the size of a straw.

Something wet touched his bottom lip and he was automatically gulping down the water before he consciously made the decision to drink. The ringing faded from his ears just enough for him to hear Dominic.

“-hn, I called the emergency line. There’s a nurse comi-”

Soap’s vision blacked out.

When he blinked back to himself he was flat on his back with something cold pressing against the nape of his neck and his legs being held aloft by a beta woman that was standing beside the bed. Struggling to get his eyes to properly focus, he grunted his confusion.

“Hello, Mr Mactavish. I’m Kelly. How are you feeling?” The beta, Kelly, spoke with a voice that was friendly, but not perky. More of a matter-of-fact warmth.

“Pre’y shite,” He groaned out, letting his eyes fall closed again as he rubbed at his face. Dimly registering that a thin blanket had been draped over his hips to cover his unmentionables.

“Yeah, I’d guess so,” Kelly commiserates, gently lowering his legs back onto the bed, “Could you keep your knees up for me? Just like that. Perfect. So, Mr Mactavish, you’ve just had a rather bad bout of Heat Rejection,” Kelly informs him, while keeping a grounding hand on his obediently raised knees, “It’s completely natural and not at all life threatening, the symptoms should level out within the next twenty-four hours. You’re welcome to ride it out in the medical suite here with us, or if you have someone that you can call that can sit with you for that time you’re free to leave.”

Soap slowly thinks this over, cracking open an eye and blearily noticed that the room is empty of anyone but Kelly and himself. “Dominic,” He grunts, not quite managing to make it pitch up into a question.

“I asked Mr Wilckes to wait in the hall, as I wasn’t sure if his presence would make you uncomfortable.” Kelly is a consummate professional, but Soap thinks he can detect hints of scorn flitting about the corners of her eyes, “I can call him back in if that’s what you want.”

“Nae.” Soap denies, “Nae, I dun wan’ ‘im ‘ere. If ye coul' pass me mah phone I’ve someone tha’ can take me outta y’ur hair,”

Kelly kindly fetches his phone, though she doesn’t let him sit up to make the call. Eyeing Simon’s contact, he mentally apologizes to everyone on the base for the chaos he’s about to unleash, then hits dial.

He’s barely had the time to move the phone to his ear when the call is picked up.

“Johnny?” Ghost’s harried voice barks down the line, “What’s wrong?”

“Why’s some’hing gotta be wrong fer me tae call ye, L.T,” Soap bitches, trying to calm Ghost down from the lather he’s no doubt already worked himself into, “Gonnae gi’ a man a complex,”

“What’s wrong, Johnny” The voice that rumbles from the phone is pure domineering alpha and it kicks a reflexive placating whine from Soap’s chest.

“Si, ah need ye tae come ge’ me,” Soap mumbles down the line, his bravado drowned by the sudden twisting need he has for Ghost to be here with him.

“I’m coming, Johnny.” Is the immediate reply, and by the rustles coming from Ghost’s side of the call, Soap knows he’s hauling ass, “Can you stay on the line? Are you hurt?”

“Ah’m fine, Si. Ah’m no' hurt,” Soap lets his eyes fall closed again, ignoring the judgmental look Kelly shoots him for his little fib. In his own defense, he’s not physically hurt. From what he knows of Heat Rejection, his body is just gonna be all kinds of outta wack while his hormones try to rapidly bring him back down to baseline. For now, he’s content to listen to the sounds of Simon snapping at any unfortunate soul that dared get in his way. Soap only realises that he’s begun purring when a quiet answering purr comes from Simon.

The slam of the room door opening jolts Soap out of the calm daze he’d fallen into and he reflexively punts the most pertinent object at the intruder. Unfortunately, that object happened to be the phone he’d been holding, even more unfortunately, the intruder was Ghost.

Ghost easily ducks the unconventional projectile and covers the distance to the bed so fast, Soap could have sworn he teleported. From Kelly’s jump she also wasn’t expecting a man of Ghost’s size to move with that speed.

Spooky bastard, his L.T.

“Ghost!” he cheers and is climbing up the alpha to nuzzle into his neck before he can rein in his rampant instincts.

Omega and alpha freeze, Soap midnuzzle and Ghost with his hands reflexively clamped around his Sergeant’s bare thighs.

Kelly, the blessed angel she is, gently clears her throat. Effectively snapping the awkward tension.

“Mr MacTavish is experiencing Heat Rejection and needs someone that is able to stay with him for the next twenty-four hours, or until his symptoms abate.” She looks up at Ghost, clad in his full skull-plated balaclava and half his field kit, without fear. Soap must have called while he was busy terrifying the rooks, “Can you do that?”

Ghost gives her a solemn nod, “Yes.”

“Perfect,” Kelly starts listing symptoms, proper care practices, and things to watch out for when dealing with Heat Rejection and Soap is man enough to admit that he didn’t listen to a lick of it.

He was busy oscillating wildly between bone shaking horror that he was clinging to his Lieutenant while bare as a newborn, a deep seated greedy pleasure that Simon had come for him without question, and the brainless need to purr and rub against this perfect alpha until the rejected alpha’s scent was gone from his skin.

Ghost’s hands gently squeezed his thighs, then loosened as he leaned forward a bit to encourage Johnny to stand on his own. Soap gave a petulant whine, but a reassuring purr and a gentle pat to his thighs had him reluctantly hopping down. Before his instincts could coax his better sense into indulging in a full blown pout for having to give up his prize, he was distracted by the sight of Ghost knelt at his feet holding out a pair of trackies for him to step into.

If the mere thought of any kind of sexual touch didn’t currently make Soap want to run all the way back to Alba, Ghost on his knees for him would be a very enticing image, he couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t be the only thing on his mind the next time the need to let off steam hit either. For now, however, Soap was tired to his core and was pitifully grateful for the help as he stepped into the trousers, letting Ghost draw them up over his hips.

Feeling like naught more than a bairn, Soap threw his arms up at Ghost’s gesture and let the man pull a shirt over his head. The impression was not helped by Ghost then immediately picking him up and perching him on his hip. The man was only eleven centimetres taller than him, where did he get off manhandling him like he was some kind of waif. Soap grumbled to himself, but was disinclined to actually demand he be allowed to walk on his own. Content to wrap all his limbs around Simon, like a particularly lonely limpet, and purr like a motorbike while rubbing their jaws together.

There was a bit of a scuffle when Ghost had to convince him to let go and get in the car, but by the time the car was parked again Soap was barely conscious. He dully registered Simon picking him up out of his seat, the tension falling out of his muscles when he recognized the smells of their base. He thought he heard Prize and Gaz, but their voices were far away and the rumble of Simon’s chest was nice against his.

Johnny cracked open an eye when he was plopped onto a bed, content to drowsily track Simon as the alpha threw his duffle, once again stuffed to bursting with blankets, next to the laundry bin. Simon heading for the door sent an unpleasant jolt through him and he whined forlornly, desperate to keep his alpha here with him.

“I’m going for drinks and food, Johnny,” Simon assured him, coming back to pet a hand over his warhawk, “I’ll be right back, I promise,”

Johnny whined again, but did nothing more to stop Simon from leaving. He could also do nothing to stop his instincts from insisting that he had disappointed his alpha and the man was never coming back. Trying to appease the gordian knot his logic and instincts were tying themselves into, Johnny started rumpling around in the bed he’d been deposited onto to make up a new nest. A deep rolling purr bursting from him when he realized it was Simon’s bed. No doubt the alpha’s instincts were also going haywire, demanding he protect the omega.

No better place than the heart of his own territory for that, Johnny supposed.

The door opened and Johnny’s reflexive hiss broke into another purr, the mere sight of Simon cutting through his anxieties. He actually barked a few ecstatic chirps when the alpha dropped lovely soft clean scentless blankets onto the bed. Johnny hadn’t chirped since his age was in the single digits, but Simon bringing him blankets -his alpha contributing to their nest-, was really doing it for him.

Johnny lost himself in weaving the perfect nest, as he always does, and once he deemed it faultless he looked for his alpha.

Simon was standing, backed against the wall on the other side of the room, with his hands palms out and his chin tipped up to expose his throat. His bare uncovered balaclavaless throat, to match his bare uncovered balaclavaless face.

Oh, Johnny's alpha was perfect.

The omega might have gotten a bit overwhelmed by the sheer excellence of his alpha as he immediately went limp to flop and roll in his nest. Catching a glimpse of Simon flinching forward at his abrupt fall before realising what Johnny was doing and assuming his non-aggressive stance again, with a perfect peachy pink blush creeping up his throat to bloom over his cheeks.

“Alpha,” Johnny called him over, patting invitingly at the nest.

Simon took a hesitant step forward and was pulled the rest of the distance to the bed by Johnny’s delighted chirps. The omega was still flopped, but curled around just enough to snag the loose fabric of Simon’s pants, retracting his hand and shaking it out with an unhappy whine when the fabric’s rough texture offended him. In the next second Simon stood before him in only his knickers. Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever seen Simon strip that fast, including that time when Simon's clothes had actually caught fire.

Johnny gives a surprised meep, gazing wide eyed at the alpha stood vibrating before him, waiting for permission to enter his own bed. Then gets over it and hauls the man down into the nest. Pushing him around until he was in the perfect position for cuddles. Johnny purred, burying his face into the warm nook between Simon’s arm and his side, whining inconsolably when the alpha lifted his arm to give him more room, only purring again when he put it back where it was.

A hand comes up to hesitantly pet over his back, creeping upward to scratch across his nape and dig into the base of his warhawk. Johnny feels his purr drop down his throat to resonate in his chest. Announcing for all who cared to listen that Johnny considered himself to be perfectly safe, cared for, and comfortable. An answering purr kicked on in Simon’s chest and Johnny let himself drift off.

Knowing Simon wouldn’t hurt him.

Thank You For Reading!

Let's all pray that Dominic wasn't still in the hall by the time Ghost got there, or pray for the opposite, depending on how much you hate Dominic.

So, did y'all know that Tumblr has a "4096-text-characters-per-block limit." ? Cause that was a fun discovery to have while I was trying to put this post together.

I'll admit that this one got minimal editing, if you spot something wrong lemme know!

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