#your home doesn’t remember you
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They forgot his name
#cheong myeong#return of the mount hua sect#rotmhs#rotbb#chung myung#plum blossom sword saint#pbss#your home doesn’t remember you#The funny version of this idea would be the whole sects representing each person of the family and the beggar sect has to be Dolores#encanto crossover#I forgot to add Baek-ah!#pretend she’s in his poncho
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i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…
#the whole setting is jb hanging out in the rock post war#and tyrion became lord of the westerlands / the rock is his but he’s off doing stuff in kingslanding and jaime is just filling in for him#atm . but after tyrion comes back his original plan WAS he’ll get married to brienne right away and they can move back to tarth or be#travelling hedge knights together or whatever brienne wants to do he’s down for it. but the important thing is that he wants to stay with#her .. so he’s using the time they have together currently to court her bc she deserves that at least !!#so jaime goes off trying to court and woo brienne but she just thinks they’re hanging out bc they got relatively close in the war#so jaime being touchy feely isn’t anything new. jaime making innuendos and being kinda flirty isn’t anything new either#but this time he means it LOL he’s like I want to kiss you SO badly and brienne will be like lol silly jaime (:#I was also thinking they’d help rebuild lannisport just bc it’s a time for healing now and it would be good for the people to get to know#jaime and the lannisters in general bc of how they would just used to sit high above the rock looking down on everyone#but now jaime is like. actively helping and being known and being with the people rather than just being that absent distant lord#also he’s thinking he might as well try and foster some relationship with the commoners to his house bc it’s for tyrion anyway#so he’s off doing that and brienne is tagging along bc she does not want to go home yet#she wants to stay with him and she’s helping out as an excuse to stay a little longer but she doesn’t exactly want to leave him#but how do you tell someone that and ignore the big glaring part that she’s actually in love with him and the fact that they both survived#the war is getting her hopeful???? u want her to admit that?? like a normal person??? no..!!#so she’s just staying and helping out bc a) it’s the sensible thing to do b) so she can bask on the sun that is Jaime Lannister#for like a few more days. weeks. maybe a month bc the weather is soooo bad in the stormlands rn 🙄😳#anyway jb hanging out! and everything is going well and good but jaime is now getting popular w the people and he’s also looking quite#rugged and handsome post war now that he’s thirty flirty and thriving and he also has a new scar across his lip that makes his#smirks even more ! rogueish … ! and he looks quite nice with the greying hair 👀 so now there’s gossips around him#not to mention he’s single too and I think if you were one of the heroes who helped win the war they’ll forget the kingslaying#man with no honor business so lo and behold brienne eavesdrops a group of ladies bc she’s a chismosa at heart and they’re talking about a#potential marriage for a lord lannister (!!!) and there’s going to be a big tourney held in Kingslanding for it (!!!)#and brienne remembers jaime mentioning the ought to go to Kingslanding in the next few weeks (!!!) and now she’s remembering jaime IS a#lord though not theee lord of the westerlands STILL a lord from one of the seven houses and he’s single and very eligible for marriage rn#and now she’s realising everything is returning back the way it was before the war where society rules matters and she has her own role as#now the evenstar bc rip selwyn and jaime has his own role too and the court is a whole different battlefield#one that she isn’t equipped in and even though she had found some new confidence in herself bc killing a bunch of ice invisible zombies#with your own magic sword will do that for you she doesn’t think (and she’s being objective not negative) she stands a chance in THAT
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. The Concept of Nyon in an otherwise fully developed planet is so crazy to me. It is simply Forgotten. There’s guys in there who obviously were alive when it wasn’t. When it was considered a booming part of Cybertron’s economy. They have a port. Fishing cities are often self sufficient and good at their trade, unless nobody wants to buy from them or someone from outside is exploiting them. I hold it in my heart and categorize it as a poor Latino city in my head. Maybe they had buildings and crowded streets like Turkey. Full of riches and kind to each other. A deep culture of Nobody gets left behind. I love going back and writing Rodimus’ nostalgia towards a home he can never go back to
#ppl will talk abt Cyc grieving cybertron#or might argue that Rod isn’t the only one who lost his home#but it’s arguably worse when you consider he’s the only Nyon citizen left#he’s probably forgotten so much. he holds specific words close.#but he doesn’t remember them the way he should#I’d think his memory is foggy and he mourns that fact a lot.#I think it’s why he only ever went as hot rod and Rodimus.#can’t have people ask you about a home your brain refuses to allow you to remember#when they don’t know what that home is#ooc / misty forest
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at some point i am going to have to force even to go back and deal with donna & tentoo & rose & all and everything they ran away from. and that will probably involve them losing tentoo’s chameleon arch watch by giving it back to its rightful owner, whether she chooses to open it or not. and that is. not going to be a very fun or stable time for them.
#this part is v vague and fuzzy because i want to watch the rest of 12 & 13 and finish the doctor/donna specials before i set anything in#stone about it. but i think i need to rearrange some things in the timeline here vis a vis when the doctor is also forced to go back and#deal with his baggage.#i dont think 14 exists in even’s universe for this reason. and for the reason of tentoo kind of taking on his role? the human part of the#doctor who can stay with donna & with rose.#she’s also trans to me because i love trans!tentoo. her name is johanna. i think it’s pretty. i make a singular exception to my rule of#never changing characters names when i trans them.#but i think. what im getting at here is that this cant be a happy ending. not so cleanly. its more bittersweet.#like i think this version of the story. what i have so far. donna does remember. (tentoo doesn’t but that’s because she’s become her own#person. the doctor is who she came from but she isn’t just the doctor anymore.) and rose knows her doctor is out there and loves her but#she has her wife at home.#and even. oh even. you can’t hold onto a heart that’s not yours forever. you have to give it back.#this. i think. is a moment of respite and recovery for the doctor. and a really really low point for even. however this works out.#its not perfect but there’s kindness in it. and there’s a home to go back to. if they can bear it. both of them.#but like i said. this is all preliminary based on what i might play around with here. and how watching more of the show changes my ideas.#but i think. whatever revelations come in 13’s arc. i think in even’s universe they have to come after donna. i’ll find a way to make it#work.#but mostly right now the important thing is forcing even to give up the watch because why would i let them have one single comfort object <3#dw oc
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It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC
#Kat and Nia and their multiverse of madness#Jia is genuinely making me lose my mind#right now the aftermath interests me a bit more because I live for emotional whump and angst#just.. imagine being her parents#you beg for your daughter’s life and your plea is listened to. she’s released. having proved herself useless. you barely recognise her#she’s nothing like the upbeat and cheerful girl you raised who loved working in this palace. who loved her lady#she’s so thin. hollow cheeks and empty eyes. she barely reacts to anything but Lord Jusamah’s voice which makes her flinch#you’re afraid to even hug her in case she disappears like a ghost would. something is very very wrong with her#you remember the rumours that she was tortured for the information. she looks like she’s starving#it’s clear she was hurt. she wouldn’t act like this if she wasn’t. you’re scared to think of what is hidden beneath her clothes#you want to lunge at Lord Jusamah and strangle him with your bare hands. inflict everything he’s done to your daughter on him tenfold#but you can’t. he’s rich and you aren’t. he has power and you don’t. if you try.. none of you are seeing the sun ever again#you barely care. it would be worth it. but you have two other children to worry about. and Jia deserves her freedom#so all you can do is drop to your knees. press your forehead to the floor. and thank him for his kindness#you tell Jia that you’re taking her home. alertness returns to her for but a moment#‘home?’ her whisper sounds so sad. so broken. you can barely stand it#you rush home as fast as you can. she’s so skittish it hurts. she feels the sun on her face and doesn’t move for a good 10 minutes#you can’t bring yourself to say anything. one of you goes ahead to warn the family so the children won’t crowd her#you finally make it to your house and Jia looks at it as if it was a mirage. she touches the wall to ensure it’s real#the first thing you do is help her take a bath. the sight of her back fuels you with bloodlust. there’s no untouched spot on it#your sweet gentle girl was whipped until criss crossing scars covered every last inch. it must have been hell#you bandage her wounds and take her to eat. she gorges herself on it as if someone would take it away. some light returns to her eyes#she always had a good appetite. at least that didn’t change. after lunch you let her sleep in your own bed#instead of making her share with her siblings and cousins. she needs space. she passes out the second her head hits the pillow#you stay and keep watch. and when the first night terror occurs. you’re ready. her screams are impossibly loud#you wake her. calm her down and hold her hand as she falls back asleep. recovery won’t be an easy road#but you walk it anyway. and with time. she gets better. she returns to her old self. only some traces of that horror remain#she’s happy again. smiles a lot. helps out. plays with the younger kids. she’s the Jia you know and love#she has nightmares. her scars hurt. no one touches her back. she’s paranoid about food. but she’ll be okay. you’re sure of it#(I reached the tag limit again but at least I said all I had in mind. but I could probably ramble on about this for ages…)
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the world is in a disastrous state of affairs when people are supporting a school shooter over the community bc “forgiveness is free” and “are people not allowed to change”
#mylife#I’m so upset rn#like genuinely I’m so frustrated#When those losers supporting him have friends that are startle when a car makes a noise; are nervous around balloons because-#-they will have a panic attack when it pops; when their friends are crying bc they wish they weren’t so scared overreacting for things -#-that aren’t really threats. When someone in their family mourns their friends best friend.#Mass shootings SCHOOL shootings are the kind of trauma that doesn’t just go away#When their friends family and community are the ones fucked up for years to come from a mass tragedy maybe then they’d have a fucking heart#It’s real big to forgive someone when they haven’t wronged you#Forgiveness is a costly thing and it is not something to be diminished for the sake of a school shooter#Think about how much you want a school shooter to have an active platform when the effects of it is so damning and present#The one from my community is locked up but when I’m back home the reminders are Constant#The ribbons are still on nearly every store front#When I go to Walmart or the McDonald’s I think about how my sisters friend escaped to there and that asshole went there himself#Driving past my neighborhood I see where he was apprehended I remember the cop lights and the news vans#Imagine someone that caused all that chaos that will forever leave a wound in your community being praised and lauded and loved#They got to heal when you all didnt#It’s enough of a reminder going to the fucking grocery store why should a shooter have a platform making money off your pain#I’ve lost the plot but TikTok school shooter sends me into a deep and terrible despair every time I have the misfortune of seeing him#Myrambles
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lmfao our logical procedure went from the hospital to the er so guess who’s back at the er we waited until 2 am at!!!!
#ooc. mikkelsen vc: this week on kat valentine's hannibal.#[im going to fucking mcfucking lose it. im going to fucking mcfucking lose it. they closed the fucking or because they had a fucking#emergency! just decided to close it!!! just fucking decided to close it! and a nurse literally told my aunt ‘well if you don’t go there idk#we can’t do anything for you’ but here’s my aunt just. taking this shit on the chin. when she SHOULD be#fucking destroying this idiot. how negligent is it to go ‘we can’t do anything for you’???? she LITERALLY has to have like everything sucked#out of her body. she literally is carrying like 10 lbs of fluid. she’s not having a fucking boobjob she has cancer.#does anyone remember she has fucking cancer??? does anyone care about adding extraordinary amounts of stress to a CANCER patient????#I can’t fucking stand the medical profession. I can’t stand it. my mother was a nurse mark was a paramedic. I grew up IN a hospital#basically. I was CONSTANTLY at work with my mom as a kid. I know what the fuck your useless ass does and doesn’t do and I know when you’re#being FUCKING shitty. ‘we can’t do anything for you if you don’t go 2 hours from home or to the worst er possible’ what a joke. I’m going to#call this fucking hospital when I get home. I’m so angry and I’m so sick of everyone literally smacking my aunt around like a tennis ball.#she’s a fucking person with a life threatening disease. just because she accepts WAY too much shit doesn’t mean she SHOULD.]#negative /#medical /#cancer /#[sure wonder what it’s like to stop crying. sure never have any clue what that’s like.]
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humbly asking for a link to the the angel fic…
reread it again and it. isn't as good as I remember. the language is bland and kinda utilitarian
#its straight anyways#the scene i was really remembering was when shitty ex comes home and angel man shows off#fucking her. on display but covering her naked body with his hands n saying 'im fucking my woman if you don't mind'#and also the bit before where he kisses her hands and goes all#everything he doesn’t give you I will give. Everything he neglects I’ll fulfill.#In return all I ask is for your care. your openness. your fear. desires. joy. pain. All you give to the unworthy man I ask for in his stead#otherwise turns out it kinda falls flat#she speaks#anon#asks#if you still want it i can put it in the comments
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Me and my stupid memory, I haven’t read MDZS in three years and now I can’t remember for the life of me why wwx would think that the one guy apart from his family to visit him in the burial mounds hates him. Did something happen after that that I forgot about? I can’t even participate in fandom because shit slips out between my neurons.
#like ofc he didn’t stay at the burial mounds but that’s a jump#to think that anyone who doesn’t move into your cursed home built on top of dead bodies must hate you#i can't remember whose idea lunch was#but generally people who hate you will find an excuse to not go out to lunch with you
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baby daddy simon who dated you for a year before you got pregnant, you’d gone through most of the pregnancy alone, him being deployed 3 weeks after you found out and gone until the very last month of it. the both of you had tried at keeping the relationship together, but the distance and loneliness got to you, you’d been fine when it was just you but now with baby, you can’t let the father go in and out of their life. he wasn’t very happy with the decision to end your relationship, in his mind you were together forever now, tied together by this beautiful thing you two created, he didn’t even want children before you told him you were expecting but his whole world view changed when he realized that he not only had you to protect but a baby as well.
but you’d moved out against his wishes, finding a small flat you like and making it home for you and baby. he would come over sometimes, when he could, and spend some time with baby but honestly he felt more like some glorified uncle, would be convinced he was nothing to this child until he saw those brown eyes staring back at him, the ones that are so completely his, and he comes to the conclusion that this isn’t gonna work.
he starts small, coming over once a week instead of every other weekend, takes the two of you out for dinner instead of letting you cook or ordering in. stays late enough that you offer him the spare bed in the guest room, even with the distance you’ve put between yourselves, you can’t help but care for him, knowing nobody else will.
then he puts more pressure on you, making sure you see just how valuable he is, taking night shift feedings and waking up early with baby when they’re fussy. he offers to take baby for the night so you can go out with your friends, do things you haven’t been able to since baby’s arrival, even pays for a spa day for you to really relax. he stocks your fridge, full of the snacks you love and a bottle of wine for the hard nights. he buys and sets up new decor in the house, finally gets you the pretty white vanity and a new washing machine that doesn’t squeak. he really just does what he considers ‘husband duties’, things that he should have been doing this whole time.
and when you don’t budge on the separation, he goes nuclear, “no, love, i haven’t seen your birth control pills”, “look how cute this baby is, remember when ours was that small, sweetheart”, “you’re so stressed darling, let me help you” which basically means you end up getting rawdogged within an inch of your life, condom long forgotten, one of simons hands held over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re making. he just hopes he’d tracked your cycle right, that you’re actually ovulating, because you can’t possible refuse his ring after having two of his babies right? you wouldn’t do that to him, would you pet?
#this has been pingponging around in my head for days#if i have to think about it then so do you#simon riley drabble#cod modern warfare#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley imagine#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost#cod mw3
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neighbor!simon x reader. longer read.
you’re neighbor is a homebody. sort of.
he’s either never home or always home. you aren’t sure what he does, but whatever it is leaves his flat vacant for months at a time, not so much as a mouse breath breaching the thin popcorn walls that separate your rooms.
and when he is in the complex, you’d never know it. a shut in, the only give away is the muffled news channel that burrows through your moldings, or smithed footfall at ungodly hours.
the first time you caught him moving in while off to work. big bloke- and when you waved to him he stared, before lumbering into his complex. given, he was holding a large cardboard box, so you weren’t expecting him to return the greeting. but a hello would’ve been nice.
it was 4 months until you got a good look at him.
you were awake at a time you shouldn’t have been for a reason you had long forgotten. you do remember thinking you might as well do your laundry.
when you went down to the mat, there he was.
tracker fed shoulders taking up half the space, and on an inhale they took two thirds. clothes looked as though they had been dyed in pen ink and left to dry in hail. mud boots, thick legs, and the silhouette of a cauliflower ear against the fabric of his balaclava.
he glared at you like you weren’t supposed to be there. an anomaly, disturbed his routine. steel face, stone eyes, swear you’d seen the same look in your history books on the shields of greek soldiers.
it all scared you shitless, so you turned on your heel and didn’t go back until the morning. you make it a point to hustle past his door after that.
but you tend to take more than you can handle. swaddling your groceries as you wobble up the stairs, just barely there before your foot catches on the last step. produce among some of the other fragile items scattered across the tiles, and you curse under your breath.
you wouldn’t characterize yourself as a klutz, but it scrambling to collect your groceries feet from your door isn’t helping your case. the paper bags struggle against your grip, and it feels like you’re just biding your time until they all rip apart.
“you need help.”
its said more like an observation than it is a question. you turn slowly, and a goliath stands 6 feet and something over you. he sports a medical mask and a ballcap, which reveals new features- sun bleached skin that peels from the bridge of his nose to between his brows, which are thick and blonde. the left is cut in half by scar tissue and spite. if you squint you see freckles.
the night he scared you, you remembered his eyes as pitch. crow feather. under your bed.
you now see they’re the deepest shade of brown.
“i- no its fine i..” your arms do a dance with the bags, trying to keep them steady.
he grabs them both from you, and suddenly they still. its like handing squealing pigs to a farmer. built for holding them. it makes you feel weird that you like it.
“unlock the door.”
you do as you’re told and find your keys in your back pocket. fumble at the lock before opening the door and standing to the side to let him in. he nods.
sets your groceries down before gently tipping the brim of his cap. he doesn’t say anything before leaving.
and this started the strangest routine.
every week you’d get groceries, he’d be there.
the first time he was on the second flight of stairs. when you questioned how he knew you’d been shopping, he rolled his shoulders and scoffed.
“your huffin n puffin gave you away.”
he was there for four more trips. each time, you had gotten more words out of him. found out he had the driest sense of humor and a plethora of knock-knock jokes that you painfully laughed at.
he even kept up with the occasional flirt.
“yknow, you could start charging for your manual labor.”
“you rich?” he returned.
you laughed. “far from it. but this is a service, and you haven’t started making demands so…”
he stopped and stared at your back before you turned around. “so what?”
“i have to assume you just like me.”
he rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his cheek twitched under his eyes. although it was hidden by the mask, you had made him smile.
“don’t get your hopes up.”
all of it was enough for you to get comfortable. and then he wasn’t there.
the absence was strange enough to make your pace stutter when you reached the second floor, but you recovered and trekked to your room.
not without glancing at his door, though.
he must be back at work. surely he isn’t…well. he couldn’t have moved out without telling you. you aren’t close but maybe you are?
you thought so hard about it for so long that you placed your ear to the wall separating your flats.
after a few moments, you heard nothing. not even a mouse breath.
you felt foolish for being so relieved. and you kept feeling foolish for hoping he’d be there with every errand, and disappointed when he wasn’t.
it was 4 more groceries trips before you saw him again.
waiting at the entrance of the complex, crossed arms and black attire stood out like a sore thumb in the winter blight that bit at your nose with snow and temperatures below freezing. you picked up the pace.
when you got to the cement steps, you sorely regretted your decision to jog. not because it winded you, or it amplified the struggle you had with your bags, but because of the smug smile you could see crinkling the bastards cheeks under his mask.
“you missed me.”
you handed him a bag. “i missed your arms. carry that.”
you could hear the grin from behind you.
“whatever you say, sweet’eart.”
#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon x reader#simon x you#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#cod#ghost call of duty#call of duty
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Bruce doesn’t know when violence stops being violence to him.
When he’s 4 years old, he pushes Oliver Queen off the swings, because it was his turn, and if talking wouldn’t work, this would.
Martha holds his face , gently, when he has to write an apology letter.
“If you want to participate in cruelty, you can’t cry when you become a victim of it.”
He also punched Sophia Falcone for calling Selina an ugly word, and his small fists ache after, but it doesn’t feel wrong.
His mama grins, small but proud, and Alfred makes his favorite tea, and Thomas tells ‘nice shot, babe’ while gently wrapping up his bleeding knuckles.
He remembers Oswald Cobblepot coming over, seeing him, and handing him ten bucks while cackling.
Gotham teaches him young.
They were out, — Thomas never lets Alfred leave home without him, not even for trivial little things like grocery shopping. And where his father goes, Bruce goes, tied to his hip like an extra limb.
There’s a man, — and he’s holding his wife by the hair. Bruce knows because he can see their rings glowing in the grey sunshine. They’re like Alfie’s rings.
She has bruises on her face, and her neck, and he’s scared for her. Thomas gently puts him down, and Bruce asks if he’ll call Mr. Policeman Gordon.
And Thomas unlocks his wristwatch, slides it over to his knuckles.
“This is how Waynes do things.”
Alfred tries to take Bruce awayand Uncle Oz stops him. When he watches Thomas punches and stomps on that man’s face until his legs stop twitching, he understands.
As Batman, Penguin hands him a 10 dollar bill, still wet with blood, when Bruce takes him to Arkham.
“Your daddy didn’t need a mask. “
#OBSESSED ABT THEM 😔😔😔😔😔😔#bruce wayne#batman#battinson#thomas wayne#martha wayne#alfred pennyworth#oswald cobblepot#dc comics#dc#text#text post#batfamily
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’re heavily pregnant with sukuna’s child and so desperately need to have your specific pregnancy cravings: mangoes. when you realise you’re out of them, you turn into an emotional mess.
tags. true form!sukuna x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw. pregnancy. size difference (reader referred to as small). reader gets called ‘woman, brat’ wc: 1.8k
you’re crying in your chambers, the volume of your cries overshadowing sukuna’s arrival at the estate. you hiccup and sniffle as you sit in the corner of the master bedroom. there really doesn’t seem to be an end to your mental breakdown.
you’re prone to mood changes because of your pregnancy, already being seven months along. your belly is as round as a globe as it sticks out from under your kimono.
you hold onto your lower abdomen while mumbling to yourself. “not fair,” you rub your blurry eyes with your free hand.
the bedroom doors suddenly swing open. you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. more upset than you are at the moment, that’s for sure.
you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while you’re stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.
after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure. he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.
“enough with the tears,” sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.
his eyes flicker over your body—taking in the sight of your round belly. he can’t deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days without seeing you.
sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long you’ve been sobbing? the realisation that no one has checked on you while you’ve been crying like this irks him.
the king of curses will make sure that every single servant - and especially the ones assigned to you - pay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.
“damn it, woman,” sukuna curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, “what’s gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"
you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.
“welcome home,” you utter, remembering to greet him properly. you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. “i—i went down to the kitchen to get som-something,” you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukuna’s irritation spikes.
“but they didn’t have the food i craved—they’re out of mangoes,” your wailing starts again just at the thought of your non existent fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.
sukuna’s annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that you’re crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he couldn't help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.
the pink haired man brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. “mangoes, huh? y’re out here bawling y’r fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?”
despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplified emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, you’re stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.
“mangoes,” you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch. you easily guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.
though, mangoes are your current pregnancy craving and not having them meant war to you. it’s all you can focus on—even if your beloved sukuna is right in front of you.
“i need them,” you whine and pout. your hormones made it difficult for you to calm down.
you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out for the nth time. “i want my mangoes,” your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, “please?”
sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that you’re experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.
the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight. “tsk, damn it,” he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, “y’re really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?”
here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. he’s seen you in many states - happy, sad, tired, excited - but never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit. sukuna’s large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.
you pout at sukuna and lean into his touch as he pats your head. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do. “well, you’re the one who got me pregnant,” you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.
no matter what sour mood you’re in, you can still be sassy. though it doesn’t last long before your bottom lip trembles again. “i can’t do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,” you whine as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your words.
you are eating for two people after all—for you and the baby.
sukuna’s smirk widened at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. damn cheeky little woman.
the pink-haired man chuckled darkly, his hand clumsily ruffling your hair again before pulling away. “‘n i don’t regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with y’r cranky ass.”
you roll your eyes at sukuna’s reply. you know you’re an emotional mess, but you couldn’t care less. anything for your mangoes—those juicy ones that you could eat a dozen of in one sitting.
“the maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ‘nd villages nearby,” you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. you’re trying your best to stay rational. you’re extremely hungry and haven’t eaten ever since breakfast. that’s how stubborn you are being.
“but i’m hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,” you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.
“yeah, yeah—fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. it’s a constant reminder of the effect he has on you, and somehow, it makes him proud.
he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you don’t strain a single muscle.
after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eat—perhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.
sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walked towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra. it’s driving him insane.
“mangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i get it, brat,” the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb. you’re lucky that he . . . tolerates you as his wife.
it’s something more than just ‘tolerating’ you, of course. but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.
if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that it’s simply because you’re carrying his heir. however only sukuna knows the full truth, the sappy secret he’ll forever keep to himself.
before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume. they glance from sukuna to you and bow. “good day,” they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. they’ve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.
the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows you’re holding yourself back from asking for your active pregnancy craving again.
sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume. “keep an eye on her while ‘m gone. feed her what she wants,” he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.
uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.
“where are you going, hubby?”
you of course, get a free pass. you don’t hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him that in such an oblivious manner. you should’ve known where he was departing to.
“where’d you think, smartass?” he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.
you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.
“you better hold on ‘til i come back with y’r stupid mangoes,” he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, “and when i do, i don’t wanna hear ‘nother squeak, understood?”
sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.
your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that sukuna is actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.
“okay! love you, ‘kuna!” you call out to your lover while he disappears behind the gates. as expected, your words are met by silence.
that’s fine with you. not hearing an ‘i love you’ back doesn’t hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.
you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didn’t, you’d be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didn’t like you.
you know sukuna would let the world burn for you.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#[STTORU’S QUEUE]
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i bestow upon my oc the highest honor i can: janitor*
*in charge waste disposal on the ship
#also without actually having any sort of managerial title because that belongs to their mentor/friend/father figure 10656#because you’ll never guess what happens on a starship with limited resources when you can’t work anymore#which he can. just not as well as he used to. but if he has the title that says he is….#undecided rn if the Dangerous Thing the doctor shows up to stop kills 10656#or if he’s still alive and they have to live with knowing that leaving means not only will they never see him again! but that’s basically it#for him! their little scam relies on 11089 doing the work he can’t and putting it under his name#i think it’s be funny for the doctor to have a companion who can’t go home :) not because home doesn’t exist of course. physically it’s#right there. but. well.#doctor: (remembering martha and rose) btw do u want me to modify your cellphone to call ur mom?#11089: idk what a cellphone is? or who my mom is? :/#dw oc#anyway this was about them being a janitor. they’re so good at their job <3#which in space is knowing precisely how to get rid of waste without knocking them off-course via the expulsion. and being very good at#identifying airlocks. and they’ll pick up mops pretty well when they find one.
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Guard Dog vol.I
jason todd x fem!reader
aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend
4 in 1 blurbs
vol. II
warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods
Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.
He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.
And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.
With other people though, he has…different methods.
You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.
You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.
His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.
“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.
A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.
Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.
Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.
Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.
“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.
Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.
“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.
The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”
“Mhm.” He grumbles.
The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.
“Jay?”
His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”
You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.
“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.
He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.
You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.
His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.
You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.
Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.
He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.
Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.
“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.
Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”
“Thank God.”
Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.
His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.
“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”
Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).
You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.
Fuck he loves you.
Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.
He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.
You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.
You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.
“Hey there.”
You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.
"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."
Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.
"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"
"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.
Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.
With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.
"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.
“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”
You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.
Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.
Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.
But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.
"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."
“She—”
“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”
The guy hesitates.
“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.
That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”
Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.
He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.
“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.
“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.
You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”
He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.
You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.
“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”
He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.
“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.
You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.
“Jaybird!”
Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.
You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.
So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.
You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.
You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”
"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.
He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.
You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.
Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.
You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.
You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.
"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.
Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.
“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.
He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.
If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.
He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.
You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.
So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.
vol. II
#i got about a million of these up my sleeve#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd the doberman#jason todd imagine#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd/reader#jason todd/you#batfam imagine#batfam x reader#batfam fanfiction#batfam x you#batfam fanfic#red hood x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#protective bf#protective
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older!rafe can’t always be mean to his delicate flower, can he?
c/w: fluff with a little bit of angst in the beginning, rafe feeding sensitive!reader pasta, slight subspace, smut: oral (f receiving), overstimulation, use of daddy & dad, 18+ mdni!
wc: 2k
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Sock-covered feet pad along the hardwood floors when she finally hears the lock of the front door turning. Rafe’s home later than usual— a fact she’s entirely too aware of since she’s been impatiently waiting for him to return ever since he left her this morning without so much as a goodbye.
Usually, she’d stir awake to him smearing kisses all over her face and mumbling sweetened words about how much he’s going to miss her during his meetings— sometimes even wake her up with his cock prodding at her entrance before fucking her all sleepy and sloppy until she’s a sobbing mess.
However, she assumes he was still mad at her because she forgot to let him know she was going out for drinks after her lecture before her battery had died. Therefore, she hadn’t received his several calls or the texts filled with concern and only a few hours later, did she remember that she’d never actually sent the message regarding her whereabouts.
When he came to pick her up after she’d borrowed her friend’s phone in order to reach him, he was clearly displeased; merely muttering out a “ask you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. You know how fuckin’ worried I was?” and crudely telling her to go sleep in the guest room because “daddy doesn’t feel like dealing with your shit tonight”, which had resulted in wet droplets surfacing to her waterline while she kept apologizing over and over again, but to no avail.
In the morning, she’d woken up to a tear-stained pillowcase and a headache. And when she tiptoed over to the bathroom, she realized that the entire house was desolate; he hadn’t even left a note.
Therefore, she’s not exactly sure how to approach him, hesitant in her movements before she sees him in front of her in all his glory.
“Hi,” her voice is quiet, but her forlorn face lights up nonetheless.
Rafe is in the process of mindlessly kicking off his shoes when he looks up; a tired smile tugging at his lips when she practically tumbles into his arms in a greeting.
“Missed you,” she mumbles against his crisp button up when he rests his big hands on her hips in an attempt to steady her.
“Missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair. “Got you somethin’,” he reluctantly pulls away in order to present her with a bouquet of pink lilies; her favorites.
“What’s this for?” her moony eyes stare up at him in bewilderment.
“Drove past a flower shop…guess they made me think of you,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek; confusing her to no end.
“But I thought—” she utters out, hesitant to take the flowers she feels unworthy of.
“That I was mad at you?”
She nods, looking up at him with guilt swimming in her eyes.
He lets out a sigh.
“Listen, I was, uh, maybe a little too harsh on you last night, okay? I know how forgetful you can be. Was just worried when you weren’t home and didn’t answer your phone until hours later. Thought somethin’ happened, you know?” he explains with a calmness that placates her racing mind as she accepts his gift.
“I know, m’sorry. Won’t happen again, promise. Texted you today the second I was home, right?”
“You did,” he confirms as he peels off his suit jacket before sniffing the air. “Smells good, what’re you making?”
“Oh, I made you dinner,” she says bashfully, almost as if waiting for his approval.
“You did? All by yourself?” his brows climb his forehead in surprise.
She nods, a soft smile on her lips before he’s ushering her towards the kitchen and plucking a glass vase from the top shelf for her.
Usually, he’s the one cooking for them since she’s not greatest in the kitchen, always so tired after studying the whole day, she’d probably forget the stove on and cause some sort of a fire due to her absentminded nature. Therefore, he prefers to prepare his girl a nurturing meal whenever he doesn’t have to work late.
“How was uni today?” he asks as she sets the now flower-filled vase on their dining table.
“A��lot. Was kinda stressed the whole day cause I have so much homework and reading to do, don’t know how I’m supposed to have time for all of it. And then have this group project and the deadline for this essay approaching and…I don’t think my brain works anymore,” she sighs out when she peers down at the steaming bowl of spaghetti Bolognese he places on the counter.
“Good thing you don’t need to worry that head of yours over anythin’ with me. Let dad do the thinking for you, yeah?” Rafe’s voice is as smooth as honey, causing her to blink up at him— something cottony dusting over her mind in response to his sugary cadence.
Strong arms lift her up and place her on the marble countertop before he settles right between her thighs, like a puzzle piece she’s been missing the entire day; tall frame hovering over her even as she’s practically perched on a pedestal.
Then, he’s picking up the plate in the most casual manner and contently shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth before groaning in satisfaction.
“Shit, this is amazin’,” he praises around the mouthful.
She mumbles out a flustered thank you, her thoughts all over the place since she thought he’d still be mad, but then suddenly he’s not. In fact, he’s seemingly in a great mood.
“Did you eat yet?”
“No, was, um…waiting for you. Didn’t wanna eat alone,” her volume is nearly inaudible.
He stops chewing.
“Waitin’ for me, huh?” he rasps out before he’s lifting the fork closer to her mouth.
She looks up at him, puzzled.
“Open,” he orders and she has no choice but to obey— let him feed her because truthfully, whenever she’s around him she gets a little dumb; can’t really focus on anything except his low drawl and gemstone eyes.
“Good, right?”
She hums her agreement around the bite, barely registering that some of the tomato sauce stains her chin in the process.
“Always so messy, huh?” he tuts disapprovingly, even if he’s the one holding the fork.
However, before her mushy brain has the time to even comprehend what he’s doing, he’s laving the flat of his tongue under her mouth; cleaning it up for her.
“There we go,” he murmurs as he rubs a thumb over the spot for good measure.
She swallows.
“Want some water?” he asks and she nods, all of a sudden unable to utter out words.
Then, he’s tipping a glass of ice-cold water to her lips, carefully watching her gulp down the liquid before he decides she’s had enough— withdrawing the cup in order to drink some of it himself.
He continues feeding her every other bite and making casual conversation, all the while she feels herself softly slipping into a very specific headspace. And before she realizes, he’s placing the empty dish in the sink with a slight clatter; their bellies full and happy.
She doesn’t think she wants to eat by herself ever again.
Then, her foggy mind registers him in front of her again as he pulls her closer— warm palms slipping under her top and his thumbs idly smoothing over her tummy while she quietly stares at him with hearts for eyes.
“You put this tiny thing on just for me, hm?” he questions as his eyes drop down to her cleavage; the pale pink lace doing a very poor job of concealing what’s underneath since she’s forgone a bra (and pants), as she usually does whenever she’s merely loitering around their home.
“Look so pretty in this,” his dreamy voice rumbles as he swipes a thumb over a covered nipple, causing her to let out a faint gasp at the sudden contact.
“Ray…” she hums out while he keeps rubbing over the squishy part of her body he knows gets her buzzing.
“Hm? You feelin’ floaty already?” he asks with a gentle cadence. And she’s not sure how he always seems to know just the right words to say in order to turn her into clay.
“Yeah, missed you so much,” her hazy eyes flicker over his face while he simply gazes at her, before he’s smearing his mouth on hers.
There’s something hungry, primal in the way he groans against her lips— causing a whimper to escape her throat in response.
Then, all of a sudden, he’s lifting her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing more than a single paperclip; making her squeak out a sound of surprise when he jokingly smacks her ass while walking out of the room before throwing her on the bed.
“Let daddy say hi to his favorite girl, yeah?” he coaxes her before he’s prying her thighs apart and nuzzling his face into her cunt through the material of her panties; nose bumping against her clit, making her shift closer to him.
“Missed my pussy so much, you know? Wanted to fuck you nice ’n slow last night but you never came home.”
“M’sorry, daddy,” she can’t help but whimper out when his warm tongue licks over the already dampening fabric of her underwear.
“Yeah? You gon’ make it up to me? Let me eat you ’till I forgive you?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want,” she blabbers, a whine leaving her vocal cords when he plucks the soaked through material to the side and blowson her sensitive cunt.
“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he says in awe, letting spit drip down his tongue and onto her folds anyway. Then, he’s wrapping his lips around her clit, making her cry out because she can already feel her orgasm lingering underneath the surface.
“Need to come, can I? Please m’gonna— ” she says, almost in a trance; already so wound up. And the way he’s practically torturing her achy button with his mouth isn’t really helping.
After he’s hummed his agreement, she’s not able to hold it in any longer— his tongue poking at her opening when the knot in her belly unfolds. She’s shaking, thighs yearning to close, if not for his strong arms holding them open as he groans around her, seemingly lost in a daze with her taste and smell practically suffocating him.
Since he knows how insatiable she tends to be, he refuses to pull away from between her thighs. And two more orgasms later, she’s a whimpering muddle; desperately trying to drag her hips away from his unrelenting hold. However, he’s entirely too strong and she doesn’t stand a chance.
“Ray, s’too much, need a break—” she complains, eyes beginning to turn watery in response to the overwhelming pressure.
However, despite her protests, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to mess with her entirely too sensitive clit with his fingers now— pressing and pulling and making her whine as tears trickle down her cheeks and she tries to fruitlessly wiggle away from him once more.
“Nah, you’re good, dad wants you to give him a few more, think you can do that?” he mumbles against her sticky folds, stuffing the tip of his tongue into her weepy hole as an effort to persuade her.
“I don’t know if I can—”
“Shh, jus’ wanna make you feel nice, you don’t want me to?” he feigns hurt when he lifts up his head, beginning to mouth over the soft skin of her inner thighs to pacify her; his slight stubble tickling her in the process and making her twitch.
“No, I do, I do…”
“Then quit whinin’ and let me take care of you, hm? Show you how much I love you,” he coaxes her to give in. And when he puts it like that, she thinks it does sound rather romantic.
#this has been sitting in my drafts since september & finally finished it?#older!rafe#rafe cameron#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe smut#rafe x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron obx#rafe fic#outer banks fanfiction#rafe cameron outer banks#obx smut#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx#outer banks#older!rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe x y/n#rafe blurb#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron au
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