#//but hey. now there was no need for a second (totally a prop and not real) knife! bc chip has his face! :)

[lovegasmic]

 𝜗𝜚 HOW THEY HIT ON YOU

─── . satoru , suguru , sukuna , kento, toji x f!reader

꒰ request : jjk men noticing you during a night out ꒱

꒰ fluff : curseless au ◞ maybe ooc Satoru and Suguru◞ mentions of reader drinking ◞ suggestive and a bit of touching w Toji ꒱ ★ taglist

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SATORU

it’s even a little bit funny the way Satoru eyes you up and down, casually sipping on a non alcoholic beverage while fixing his sunglasses, not subtle in the slightest, there is to add, not as if he actually tried.

an elbow straight into Suguru’s waist and the dark haired man groans, “fucker...”

“look at that girl over there” Satoru, again, does nothing to be subtle, motioning towards you standing at the bar with a friend.

“the one you’ve been ogling at while I talk?”

“isn’t she so pretty?”

it’s like talking to a damn wall.

“i’m going to talk to her”

yet Suguru raises a brow as if the sudden approach was not a good idea, “you sure man, she looks kinda busy with her fri—”

and he’s gone, walking with confidence and a smirk to mask the actual nervousness rushing through the white haired’s body.

“hey” is the first thing he says, elbow propped up on the bar next to you, “can I get you a drink?” eyes drop to the glass on your hand, “... another?”

that did not start well, but your smile makes up for the embarrassment, “sure” you say finally, after a second of knowing glances towards your friend, which didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru, so by reflex, the cocky smirk is back.

he orders a drink, asking for your order or perhaps if you’re feeling adventurous, “and while we’re at it... can I have your name?”

࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUGURU

“the trick is to aim for the head” Suguru casually blurts out. mansplaining? nah, he’s genuinely trying to help after watching you struggle in the claw machine for quite some time now, having come up next to you with soft, light steps that did not break your previous concentration.

the truth is, Suguru was looking at you earlier, something about your determination made him prop his cheek on a hand and look at you, entertained by your groans and complaints whenever the plushie you were trying to get just slipped past the cough, broken claw.

“this game is broken either way” you huff a laugh, turning to stare at the eyes of the stranger man, with a soft gaze and gentle smile, “wanna give it a try?”

“only if you tell me your name first” so that’s how he does it. you thought to yourself, offering a chuckle and your name before he nodded his head, “i’m Suguru”

then he’s gently moving you around, with a hand on your lower back so you’re switching positions, sliding a coin into the slot and getting into position.

it was truly not as if he tried to impress you, he did not, but... maybe... just maybe he did, pulling out all his highschool knowledge learnt from his best friends, and avoiding the part where they all shook the machine when didn’t get a prize.

“is that the one you want?” he really did not need to ask since he already saw you struggle to get it, but still waits for your affirmation before proceeding.

“you really are a magician or something” you chuckle, gripping the plushie Suguru just got for you, “thank you”

“no need to thank me... why don’t you... just give me your phone number?”

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  SUKUNA

approaching you? pfft no. the... tv screen was more visible from the spot Sukuna currently sat at the sports bar, an important match was happening so the bar was crowded, and oh, coincidentally, he chose a table coincidentally closer to where you sat with other people.

when the night started, Sukuna was focused on the game, until of course, you arrived, and his heart skipped a beat.

“that guy is so into you” one of your friends giggles next to your ear, eyeing at Sukuna while you roll your eyes.

“where did you get that from?” it was obvious the man was not interested, with a lazy position, arms draped over the backrest of the booth and a leg crossed, so uninterested.

“he’s totally into you, I can sense this kind of thing, plus, he stared at you when you went to the bathroom”

that... was true, Sukuna couldn’t help and let his eyes drift from the screen and towards you, checking you out in a way that was apparently not too subtle.

but he was not desperate, he was not the one to approach first, girls fell for him, girls wanted his attention, girls that weren’t as half as pretty as you.

“fuck” he grumbles, annoyed by his own feelings while suddenly and quite unexpectedly standing up to go to the toilet, only for you to land face first into his chest as you were about to leave.

“oh, god, i’m so sorry!" you gasp, noticing the stain of food on his shirt from where your leftovers package smashed into him. and Sukuna should be mad, really, but it was so cute how you rambled apologies and clumsily wiped the stain with napkins.

“i didn’t mean it, i—”

“it was quite expensive”

...huh?, “huh?”

“the shirt” he mutters, the previous stoic expression turning into a devilish smirk, Sukuna was an idiot, watching the color drain from your face, “you better pay it back”

“i... i can tr—”

“do you have somewhere to go after this?”

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  KENTO

for the blonde, there was no better way than destressing after a long day at work, then getting drinks.

hopefully without his annoying white haired coworker getting on his nerves.

he often does not care about his surroundings, that’s how he is, quietly taking his own drinks without minding everyone, until you arrive.

you look troubled, it’s been a while since you got in and sat at a table in the back, are you sad? lost? did your friends cancel on you? or are you just awfully early to meet someone?

doesn’t matter, but Kento is unable to keep his eyes off you.

he’s being nice, alright? “can I sit with you?” somehow getting up from his seat and coming to you, his smile is kind and points at the now empty table he was previously at, “i came alone, might as well have some company” he says, holding back the need to say ‘pretty company’

“of course” you know he means no harm, sitting quite far in a still polite distance while clearing his throat and engaging in small talk.

without realising the hours pass, between friendly chatter and introductions exchanged, leaving the bar with a promise of a future date.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.  TOJI

“did you see the hunk standing at the back?” you and your friend giggle, not so subtly stealing glances at Toji, whose casual pose leaning against a wall and hand holding some cheap beer was enough to make most people at the bar swoon.

“you should talk to him” your friend wiggles her brows playfully, “he’s so your type”

“he’s hot, but kinda looks like a criminal...”

“you love that, don’t you?” and ouch, she was right.

and said comment did not go unnoticed by Toji, who was far but not too much as not to hear your giggling, truth is he was eyeing you for a while, eyes on how your outfit showed your body, and how he wished to come a bit closer and smell what perfume you used.

Toji has never been a man to mince his words, gulping down the rest of his beer and walking to you with a smirk and a brief flirty lick of his teeth as soon as your friend rushed to give you some privacy while still remaining within an earshot.

“have some business with me, doll?” and oh, that should not have been so hot, making you squirm and face heat from being caught.

“i um, no ...?”

“you and your friend have been looking at me for a while” she’s quick to flee after hearing that, not waiting to see how Toji’s hand casually rests on your waist, subtly and almost unnoticeable tugging you closer.

“i’d offer to get you a drink but I think you had enough” liar, he just didn’t have money, “so why don’t we get some fresh air instead?” and you fall for it, squirming and nodding at the promise of what would happen later, or perhaps, at the alley next to the bar.

[imgae-insertshockedgasps-16]

okay i've seen a few Just Some Guy!danny aus and they've consumed my brain so here you go, it's under the cut, you're welcome and thank you (ps it also combines part of a prompty type thing i saw the other day, props if you know it)

Danny was not entirely sure how he got here.

He was just walking along, bopping to some great interdimensional tunes, eating his tuna fish sandwich - with ectoplasm and pickles, of course - when KABLOW there's this big ole tightie-whities-on-the-outside wearing guy.

Now, Danny's not great at keeping up with the times, but he's pretty sure this is that Superman dude.

Said SuperDude was staring at his headphones and making vague "hey take them out pls so can converse" gestures, so naturally Danny pops the Interdimensional Walkman out of his chest to pause his wicked music, and then puts the whole kit and kaboodle back behind his rib cage.

"What's up? Did you need help or something? I mean, I'm pretty solidly retired but I guess if it's super important I can-"

SuperGuy abruptly stopped staring and started speaking, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

Ohhhhh, Danny totally gets it now.

"Oh, dude, I gotchu. You want me to hook you up, right? Don't even worry about it, I know a guy who'll give you one a these babies for free! You're Kryptonian, right? Yeah, I totally get it, you wanna listen to some music from your home planet, no problemo my newly-minted friend, give me, like, ten seconds-"

And so Danny tore open a neat little portal and stuck his head through it, asking Technus to pretty please give him another Interdimensional Walkman, no he didn't even break this one-! He ran into a Kryptonian who heard him rockin out and wanted to know where he got the beats, and he'd told them that he could hook them up! C'mon Technus, you can't let them down! They're all lonely! They want to learn about their culture!

-----------------------------------------

Clark has no idea what's happening.

He had been searching for this ear-splitting, headache-inducing noise, and had come across a guy dancing down the sidewalk.

Not unusual, right?

Except that the terrible noise was coming from this man's - kid's?? He can't quite tell how old he is - headphones!

Of course, he didn't want to be rude, so he politely gestured for the man to remove the headphones. The man then proceeded to reach into his chest and pull out some kind of - Walkman?? Do people still use Walkmans?

Clark was naturally concerned, so he activated a spot of x-ray vision, just to see what's going on in there, and was promptly horrified.

This man was using his chest cavity as a storage compartment!

Two wallets, a key ring, a lunch box, some sort of odd thermos, bits and bobs of random parts and tools were all tangled around - and occasionally in - this guy's organs!

Suddenly, Clark realized that he'd been staring for a while, and the man was now talking. Something about coming out of retirement to help, oh dear, Ma would knock him around the head if he kept being so rude, "Uh- no, no, thank you. Although I'm sure you could be helpful if I did need you! But, ah, well, was that a Walkman?"

And now he was speaking rapidly, something about music from Krypton? Clark's pretty sure that not a whole lot survived the explosion, and he'd be pretty surprised if this guy just happened to have-

A vaguely Lazarus colored portal??

What in the world-

-----------------------------------------

"Thanks Technus! You're the best! I owe you one non evil scheme related favour!"

Danny zips up the portal and turns around, fiddling with the tapes and Walkman in his hands as he goes.

"Here you go! I wasn't entirely sure what genre you'd want, I don't really listen to a whole lot of Kryptonian stuff to be honest, it's usually too heavy on the vocal for me- not that vocals aren't great! But I want a whole band experience, yaknow? I'm not really looking for individual singers. Anyway, I just had him go for a couple songs of each major genre, but if you want something different you can totally-"

"Wait, hold on, you're telling me that there's Kryptonian music on those tapes? Playable by that Walkman?"

"Uh, well, yeah. Isn't that why you tracked me down? And, technically, I mean, they're ectoplasmic tapes and an Interdimensional Walkman, so. Hey, did you know that kryptonite is actually super-condensed ectoplasm? And since it's filled with the anguish and suffering and fear and whatnot of your entire home planet dying, it only negatively affects your species! Pretty cool right? Oh, shit, was that insensitive, I really didn't mean to be, I just thought that maybe you'd want to- ACK!"

Danny was not expecting SuperMuscles to get so close. He thrust out the IW and tapes and dropped them into SuperFellow's hands, "Listen, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at a o-chem study group right now and they're totally gonna be pissed. Hit me up if you want a different tape."

And the proceeded to run in the opposite direction, duck into an alley and turn invisible, and fly over to the cafe his study group was in.

"Listen, I know I'm late but you'll never believe why-"

[writeaboutit]

I Lied

You and Ellie met on a dating app, you lied about something minor, and she finds out (but is cute and fluffy, and a laugh is had).

Hi haven't written anything in a long while so forgive if this is absolute shite🙏🏻🙏🏻. This just popped into my head totally not based on anything real, no definitely not.

"Hey baby," Ellie greets as she walks through your shared bedroom door. She's slightly hunched over and shuffling her feet showing that she had a long, exhausting day.

You pop off the bed and wrap her in a hug. She melts into your embrace.

"You tired baby?" you question. You can feel the movement of her nodding her head against the crook of your neck. She must be really spent if she can't even say yes.

Usually, the moment she gets home from work she's either ranting about her incompetent coworkers or she's excitedly sharing a new fact she learned about that week's hyperfixation.

Her silence is a bit off-putting. You feel the need to hear her voice so you prompt her, "What can I do for you?"

The silence rings out for a moment, the only sound to be heard is your breath and hers intermingling. Then she's responding, "You know that time you told me you cooked pad thai before we started dating?"

You furrow your brows in confusion. You can recall when you told her that over text, in the dating app you met on, but you're a bit confused as to why she's bringing it up now, or why she even remembers that at all.

"Yes," you say hesitantly, wondering where this conversation is going.

"Can you make that? It sounds so good right now." She asks with puppy dog eyes.

For a moment you're caught off guard. You never thought she would ask you to make her pad thai after that conversation and you worry for all of two seconds before bursting into laughter.

Ellie pulls away from the hug and looks at you with confusion. She props her hand on her hip and watched as you double over with laughter before righting yourself and calming down.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry but I lied," You giggle again, "I tried to make pad thai but it turned out so bad. I only told you I made a good pad thai because I wanted you to think I was this sexy girl who could cook well," you let out one last chuckle when you finish your explanation.

Ellie's jaw is hanging open, "What if I was only dating you for your pad thai-making abilities?"

You chuckle at that as well. There is no way this woman is only dating you for your cooking skills, that's for sure.

"I'd say you're full of shit. We've been dating for two years and you have not once brought up my homemade pad thai." You prop a had on you hip and raise an eyebrow waiting for her retort.

She throws her head back with a laugh before enveloping you in her arms, "You're such an idiot, I love you."

You smack her arm playfully, "Hey I'm not an idiot, and I love you too."

"You're right, you're not an idiot my love." She says the last bit against your lips before connecting them.

When you break apart she looks down at you before asking, "Well now what are we going to eat?"

You shrug, "We can order Thai food for delivery."

"See this is why I love you, you're a problem solver." She places quick kisses across your cheeks and the bridge of your nose causing you to giggle.

"Okay okay get off me so I can make the order," you laugh as you push her away.

"I love you," she throws out as you walk out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah." you laugh, giddy over your girlfriend.

so yeah there ya go. idk what this was i just really need to get back into the habit of writing. this wasn’t proof read so sorry about any mistakes. i’m gonna keep writing so trust better stuff will be posted🙏🏻

[billskeis]

HEAR ME OUT…SURFER TOM X FEM. (Maybe they can do it on the beach…)

holy shit im hot n bothered

˖ ࣪ ⟢ beach boy tom

tom kaultiz who you met on summer vacation while out with your family that you were totally forced to go on. you’re not a beach person, but given the fact that they begged (and bribed) for you to come at least once in your lifetime, well, didn’t sound too bad at all. the salt air and cool breeze hit you and honestly, summer vacation didn’t look too shabby after all!

you sat on your beach towel under the umbrella as you watched your younger siblings play fight in the water, parents out to grab some more snacks from the local stand as you watched the bags. quickly, your eyes averted and begun ogling at the figure in the waves.

matt locs flow through the air as the water brushes past his body as if he were apart of it. surfing huh, it wasn’t your thing until today seeing those abs.

those washboard abs, you swear to god you can grate cheese on those fucking things.

they weren’t the most defined, but they were most definitely there. what also was there was the intense eye contact held between the two of you despite there being such a difference. and within a blink, the figure disappeared within the waves. as a couple seconds pass and you no longer see him in your peripherals, you pout, but quickly shrugged it off and decide to just move on.

time passes slowly as your parents finally return back with ice cream, yay! giving you a popsicle, you begin eating at the dessert, walking alongside the shoreline. your parents mentioned something about ‘getting with the locals’ pft, like that’s important for a summer vacation.

“hey,”

and you turn to face the figure calling out to you. he holds his surfboard under his arm as the latter rubs awkwardly at his neck. up close, you noticed his lip ring, amber eyes and the faint beauty mark on his left cheek. wow, he’s even hotter up close.

“oh. hi,”

he laughs at your awkwardness, as you stood there like a deer in headlights. to be completely honest, the eye contact shared wasn’t that big a deal to you, until seeing him a second time, even closer, now it was a big deal. “i noticed you earlier, thought you were cute.”

“you could see how cute i was from that far??”

“well, i mean—i could definitely tell you were cute. now i’m glad i got the chance to see you up close.. needless to say i’m not disappointed.” his cheeks were a little pink, cute.

“how, flattering.. y/n,”

“tom, you from here?”

and there you go on your needless babbling about how your only here for summer vacation. you weren’t even supposed to spend your summer in california. but here you are, hot summer california as you grind your cunt onto the abdomen of a man you just met. it didn’t take long for the two of you to take note of what one another wanted, tom guiding your hips as your clit ruts against his abs, biting your lips as pleasure bubbles in your core.

“you’re soaking me, princess.”

“oh please, d-don’t act like you’re not enjoying the view,”

“can’t say i am, but a pretty girl like you rubbing her sweet little cunt on these gorgeous abs? i’m fucking diggin’ it..”

a towel under the two of you as he leans on his surfboard that’s propped up against the tree. while ‘getting to know’ each other, tom lead you to a private area of the beach. curious, you wonder how and where he got the access to be in such a secluded area (but you didn’t need to know that this is the famous guitarist of a young and new band called tokio hotel).

nipping at your skin, tom kneads your ass behind his hands as he watches you fuck yourself on his pelvis, smearing your juices all over him. he finds you absolutely insatiable, tucking your hair behind your ears, tilting your chin down so he can place a kiss on your lips, tongue slipping in as you mangle with one another, tasting like fresh fruit.

breaking the kiss, he thumbs at your bottom lip, smirking, “think ya could help me out?” freeing his hard on from his trunks.

“holy shit you’re huge,” your eyes widen at not only the length but the girth, pinkish tip that twitches with anticipation, pre threatening to lean from it’s mushroom top, “i know, :).” you can’t help but scoff as he laughs jokingly.

now hovering your cunt over his cock, you lower your hips down as he slips in with ease. tom has to choke back a groan as his fingers dig into your hips. he could honestly cum right then and there. taking in every inch vein, your plush walls hug against his length, slowly but surely remembering the shape of his dick as you whine from the pleasure, “t-tom..”

“s’okay i got you baby, need help?”

with an eager nod from you, he plants a kiss to your cheek as he lifts your ass up, dragging your cunt allllll the way to the tip of his cock, harshly slamming your hips back down onto his lap. with a loud ‘thwop!’ he hits dead on into your cervix, leaving you to see stars as your legs tremble, cunt tightening against him, “mmmphf~!”

“f-fuckkkkk.. you like that don’cha?”

he forces you to ride him as he lifts you up and down his length, sliding your body to a rhythm he likes, but one that also you enjoy, clit occasionally hitting his pelvic bone.

“tommmm~ i—i might—”

a low grunt escapes tom’s lips as he observes your body, stomach beginning to clench as you also begin to mindlessly ride tom without his assistance. it’s wet and sticky between the two of you, nothing but a little swimming could clean off!

“that’s it.. ride me baby.. you feel amazing, ‘m cumming soon, shit.. don’want it to end..” tom now toying at your clit, helping you reach your climax. he mutters words under his breath, not being able to hear him over how your cunt flutters against his shaft, legs shaking as the knot in your stomach finally snapping, and all that you could see now is white.

“fuckfuckfuck..!” falling from tom’s lips as the way your pussy clenches against him wrings his cum out dry, also reaching his orgasm. fucking his hips in deeper as he cums, his tip assaulting your cervix threatening to put a baby in you, thank god for birth control amiright? don’t know when you’ll need it if your on vacation with your family.. amiright?

as you both ride out your highs, deep breaths shared between each other. “you okay?” he asks, fixing the straps of your bikini to sit properly on your shoulder once more. sweat glistening off his body as you watch his chest rise up and down.

staring a little harder, you notice the sun freckles that decorate his face. your eyes quickly catch onto his pink soft lips, you catch his lip piercing in a kiss, deepening it as you wrap your arms around his neck, bodies sharing even more heat through the warm summer weather.

“so, will i ever see you again?”

“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily princess, i better see you at the beach everyday that you’re here.“

as you playfully punch at his arm, you lay your head in the crook of his neck, raising your head up to kiss his face, smooching him again, you thank tom for being able to make your summer vacation worthwhile.

2008 tom kaulitz gives summer fling type shit and then you’ll never see him again except he’s totally obsessed with you and is already booking a ticket to your home town to live w u permanently :33

guys am i eating rn (in my flop arc)

[partycatty]

OKAY BUT LIKE..

I NEED a part 2 of eyes on the prize!! Like I wanna know if it alters the present!! Like maybe older Johnny just stares at readers breast and doesnt know why or maybe he’s distant, maybe flirtatious? How it affects their relationship with well, everyone in the S.F

johnny cage > something shifts

something about your timeline alters after you flash your boss's younger counterpart.

warnings: dilfy is kinda creepy here

notes: younger johnny is "johnny." older johnny is "cage."

[ read part one here ] [ masterlist ]

• shortly after your admittedly shameful spur-of-the-moment decision, you and younger johnny packed up shop and assumed you were needed back in the intel room, clothed and mature. as you walked through the hallway, your skin prickled and the air felt thicker as you walked. brushing it off as newfound heat for the timeline jumper beside you, you tried your best to ignore it and focus on the job.

• "so, how about that number?" johnny nudges your arm, pulling you from your thoughts. you shake your head with a smirk.

• "do you expect our phones to connect across entire timelines?" you grin up at him, brow cocked. he shrugs, adjusting his sunglasses.

• "so you bet on a losing battle! and hey, who said i was going anywhere?" his tone has returned to his playboy attitude, though you know his ego is still bruised from your smart move.

• "seems like older you says so," you respond, eyes forward. "lieutenant cage might burst a blood vessel if we kept you around."

• "old fart me just forgot how to have fun," johnny brushes... himself(?) off, rolling his shoulders as you two near the room with your colleagues. a quick adjustment of your gear and a tug of your collar later, the metal doors slide open with a scan of a keycard.

• lieutenant cage stands near the door, head snapping in your direction with wide, curious eyes. his gaze softens as it locks on you, quickly turning to a furrowed, conflicted glare.

• "gone a while," cage observes, standing straight. "i said keep an eye on him, not let him poke around the compound."

• "cool it, gramps," johnny's quick to butt in. "you guys have awesome future gear and i wanted to snag a look at it. no big deal, nothing broken, mini-me."

• "you're mini-me," cage corrects johnny with a scowl. "this is the present."

• your head spins at their conversation. "my apologies, lieutenant."

• there it is again. that gentle analytical stare. "don't worry about it." cage's hand rubs the bottom half of his face, grounding himself as he physically shakes his head to rid of the foggy thoughts brewing in his mind.

• some time passes as the timeline mixup becomes a graspable concept now, everyone discussing their solutions and understandings of the odd scenario. you sat at one of the monitors, desk chair facing outward as you chatted with a coworker, aimless talk that was even harder to focus on when you glanced past them to notice the two men staring daggers into you.

• johnny's feet rested on the desk, his teeth absentmindedly toying with a pen. cage's head is tilted, thick arms crossed but eyes averted downward. which is to say, entirely transfixed on your tits. as someone with them, it was a second sense to know when they're being stared at, so there was no doubt in your mind what he was doing.

• your body heats exponentially faster. sure, flashing johnny was one thing, but since then, cage has been giving you nothing but funny looks. did he catch you two on the security cameras, you wonder?

• cage shifts in his seat, subtly adjusting himself before muttering to johnny. "it's bothering me."

• "what? how hot that rack is?" johnny replies with a cackle, earning a solid whack on the back of the head. "don't be mad that i'm right, old man. you're totally into it."

• "i wasn't before," cage honestly admits, lips concealed by his hand it props up on the armrest. "at least, i don't think so."

• johnny is silent for a long moment. "don't be mad."

• cage swivels, now facing his younger self directly. "what the hell did you do?"

• "me? nothing!" he holds his hands up in a faux surrender. "what happened wasn't even my fault."

• cage pales, assuming his younger self to be far grosser than he was in the moment. "you didn't bang anyone, did you?"

• "not yet," johnny wags a finger. "though i bet you're picturing a nice set right about now. i know that look."

• cage's anger had a veil of daydreaming about it, something glossy in his stare. sure enough, yeah, somehow and someway he was able to fully envision you underneath him, breasts rippling and nipples hardened from the cool air. the memory slips from him the moment it becomes coherent.

• it was starting to make sense now. the new memories were being forcibly implanted into his brain, a new set of wires connecting at this development. and damn, you were looking sexier by the minute.

• cage stands with a huff, chair scratching the floor and silencing the room as they observed the sudden movement. he exits the room, finding the nearest break room. a smaller, shut away room complete with a water dispenser was his personal oasis when he grabbed a paper cup, gulping it down with intense thirst.

• he couldn't shake the violently sudden attraction to you. wondering if he might burst if he kept being in the room with you, scent and body overwhelming his every sense, cage shakes his head and splashes himself with water, eyes transfixed on the faucet as he tries to distract himself from the increasingly vivid image of your sweet skin and alluring form.

• you needed answers. "lieutenant." your voice pulls him back to reality, and he only gets a moment to adjust his hard-on before turning to face you. his jaw clenches as he meets his gaze with you as you stand in the doorway. "you seem bothered."

• cage's voice is colder than he meant for it to be. "i'm fine, no need to pry." his desire was consuming, pissing him off beyond belief that he needed to take you as soon as the opportunity arises. "just needed a break from the timeline nonsense is all." he pauses, taking another sip of the water as he thinks about his younger self. "i can be a lot."

• "that, i understand," you laugh with a deep breath, wondering why you felt so compelled to follow him. "a real charmer." you freeze, wondering if complimenting himself was a wise decision.

• cage's expression was dubious, unreadable. "you still think i am?"

• a smirk tugs at your lips. "what?"

• "charming," he clarified. "do you think i'm still charming?"

• there's no need to ponder the question. "i'd say so. the whole johnny cage flair thing is a hard thing to ignore, if i may say so, sir."

• cage's expression is dark. "you may." his eyes lock onto your chest, his own heaving.

• you follow his gaze. "you know what we did, don't you?" your face burns.

• "i have an idea," he mutters, face twitching as his gaze traces the plumpness of your boobs. "i feel different."

• so you know your boss has officially seen your tits in his memories now. your curiosity is piqued, butterflies tugging in your stomach as you inspect his wrinkles deepen. "did you like them?"

• the cup is quickly discarded, his eyes unmoving as he nods slowly. his gaze flicks up to your own as you bat your lashes his way. confidence surges through you after your realization of the timeline altering.

• "to be frank with you," he chuckles dryly, rubbing at the back of his neck. your fingers dance on the hem of your shirt with a bubbling need. "can't say i'd mind seeing them again. refresh my memory, would you?"

[cultofdixon]

From being alone…to having a family of your own

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • You were alone…with your son and dog…struggling to survive. But then comes the archer • ANGST/SFW • TW: Past Abuse / Anxiety / Malnutrition / Nightmares / Sleep Deprivation / Mentions of Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

“Hey, don’t be out too late. We all deserve a good night’s sleep after…the afternoon we had” Rick frowns holding Judith close as he told such to Daryl who was going to go on a run which was more a glorified walk to clear his head.

“Who’s on watch tonight?”

“It was Aaron but he has a baby now so it’s Rosita. I’ll let her know you’re going out”

“Alright” Daryl frowns making his way out of Alexandria shortly after that conversation.

The archer didn’t know exactly where he was going but he needed to just go. There was barely any sunlight left and kept walking until it felt alright to take a breather somewhere. Which happened to be another abandoned gas station, not the one he had met Jesus for the first time, but a similar looking one.

Except what he thought was odd, was the windows being boarded when the door was wide open. Daryl decided to sweep the place and listen in for any walkers but none are inside or near the place. As the archer stepped back out, he noticed a dog. Looked like a GSP, a German Shorthaired Pointer, not like Daryl would know that exactly but he’s seen dogs like such before in the old world. This one was a puppy though and at first was cautious of Daryl before immediately approaching him and sniffing his feet.

“Where did you come from?” Daryl frowns kneeling to the puppy’s level, noticing the bandana. An indicator that it’s someone’s.

The GSP continued to sniff Daryl until he dubbed him a friend instead of a threat. Then he suddenly booked it into the woods. Daryl being his cautious self weighed his options before deciding and sprinting after the dog. At this point he needed his flashlight to see through the darkening forest as the time went by.

Then he heard a voice…

“Frank!” The voice had some power to it but the closer Daryl got to the unknown just from following the dog, he heard the struggle that followed the shout. “F-Fuck…Frank where are you?”

Daryl suddenly stops before a small clearing within the woods finding a woman with her back turned. But she turned toward him when the GSP, or Frank from what the archer put together, approached her feet happily.

“You son of a bitch…” She exhales happily as the GSP jumped on her leg when she completely faced him. Daryl noticed the baby sling she had that carried the sleeping child as her noticeable injuries made sense to why she’s that beaten up. To protect her baby and possibly the dog given how young he is.

It didn’t click right away that she was being watched until she heard walkers nearby. She looked up locking eyes with Daryl for a moment and before he could get a word out, she picked up the dog with her free arm that wasn’t supporting the baby and booked it. He turned toward the sound of the walkers taking them out with his crossbow before tracking her down.

Which…wasn’t very far.

Daryl slowed his steps when he heard crying from the baby the woman was carrying and the GSP howling. He approached the sound noticing the woman on the floor propped against the tree holding her baby protectively while every ounce of her body ached and wanted to give up.

“Please don’t hurt us…” She begged the second she heard his footsteps as Daryl ignored every cautious thought he had and knelt beside her assessing her injuries.

Returning to Alexandria in a foreign vehicle he managed to Hotwire but it didn’t have headlights, Rosita was cautious about opening the gates until Daryl stepped out flashing his flashlight at her.

Next thing they knew, Siddiq was taking care of this total stranger in the infirmary while Daryl held this baby that wasn’t his sitting on the porch with the dog currently taking up Rosita’s attention. Rick heard of the news and came quickly over to see his brother with this baby and dog.

“Where the fuck do you find these things?”

Daryl shrugs looking down at the baby that instantly calmed in his arms. Rick was about to pass him to check what was going on inside but the archer quickly grabbed his leg to stop him.

“Let him work”

“You brought a total stranger—-“

“That had no weapons on her person” Rosita adds. “Not even a knife, Rick. She’s not a threat so far. Just let Siddiq do his job” she hissed slightly as the dog licked at her face to try and return her good mood.

“Where the hell she gonna stay cuz we need somebody to keep an eye—-“

“Carol’s old place. I still live in there. She, her baby, and her dog can stay there. I’ll keep an eye on’em” Daryl states and before Rick could even say another word, the archer glared at him reminding him that he’s holding a baby and now wasn’t the time for anymore of his not well thought out plans.

No more discussion happened and this woman didn’t wake until two days later. She woke to an IV and a raging headache from the blood loss. But she was patched up and everything…by total strangers. Then she remembered.

“Frank…Leo…” She swung her legs over the edge and tried to get up but immediately went down. The sound of her hitting the ground resulted in quick paced steps and the man from before coming into view. “Where’s my baby?! Where’s my dog?! Wheres my family?!” She snaps only to hiss to a sudden radiant pain bringing her hand to her side.

“They’re safe. You’re safe here” Daryl frowns quickly helping her to her feet with a bit of a fight from her as she sat back down on the infirmary bed. “My friend Aaron is currently watching your baby boy. Along with your dog. They are safe…no one is gonna hurt’em or you”

She felt the tears come suddenly as she covers her mouth to stop the audible of it all to escape. Her body hurt. Her anxiety ached her. She didn’t know what to feel in that moment.

“Uhm. Can I…at least get your name? Don’t think yea wanna talk about what happened to yea”

“Y/N…I’m Y/N…”

“I’m Daryl” He replied with watching her wipe away her tears even if they continued to fall. “How long have yea been out in the woods for?”

“…two months? Or what felt like it”

“Siddiq, the doc, says your baby is about six months from whatever fucking military doc training has babies involved” Daryl scoffs playfully as his smile threatened to break out when he heard her laugh.

“You’d uh…be surprised” Y/N smiles for what felt like the first time in over a year. But it was quick to fade when she realized. “Oh…”

Daryl’s expression fades instantly as he tried to read hers to understand what the sudden change was about. Then she sighed.

“You want us out huh…now that I—“

“No! No…uhm. You will have to talk to the leader of this community about…what happened. But ‘sides that, you and your family are welcomed here…” Daryl reassures watching her shoulders relax but she still held herself a moment.

“…Can I get my son?”

“Doc says to finish the IV. But I can go get’em and your dog for you…uhm. Their…?”

“Leo, my son. And I think you’ve heard me call the dog Frank”

“Right. Just making sure, sunshine” He says unexpectedly as he quickly left on that note, leaving Y/N alone as she couldn’t help the more tears that fell but she kept a smile.

The archer didn’t appreciate being kicked out of the meeting with Rick. But he hovered and so did Michonne.

“I know yea didn’t tell Daryl what happened but I gotta know in order to feel better about having you here”

“Where should I start?” Y/N’s attention was obviously on her son in her arms instead of giving Rick eye contact.

“How yea ended up in the woods with a baby and a fuckin’ dog”

“I ran away from this place called the Sanctuary, I used to be Uhm. One of the big guy’s wives until one of his “right hands” showed him promise and he literally gifted me to him…” Y/N tensed when she held her son not wanting to talk about the rest anymore and it took the retired sheriff a second to connect the dots.

“You don’t have to go further. I can assure yea though, a lot of Negan’s men are dead and he’s been put in his place”

But not dead Y/N thought to herself, knowing that meant he’s contained at least. She can put a few things together in terms of the Saviors are now gone, the Sanctuary still exists, and most of the residents branched into other communities. Some still stayed but she didn’t know that much after Rick went on to explain everything. He even told her where she’d be staying with her family.

“Is this man still alive? From what—-“

“I killed him. He was the first person I ever killed. I took out a lot of walkers and did everything to avoid people before I put my trust in a group that I didn’t know until a sick way of showing power was a part of this debt collection”

“You lost people?”

“Yes, and no. I don’t know what happened to the other remaining person from that group. I will say, I don’t want to find out either”

“Bad blood between the two of yea?” Rick asks as he leaned back into his seat, his anxiety easing the more they talked.

“He knew what happened to me and there was a moment to help, but he just. Walked away” She tensed once more, hating to have to rethink it even if talking about it all would give her and her family asylum. Rick was about to talk further when her son started crying. “I gotta feed him and I’m not comfortable with—“

“Right right. I’ll leave yea to it”

The retired sheriff steps out watching both Michonne and Daryl quickly stand as he was a bit confused why they both were there. Decided not to think too much of it.

“Verdict?”

“Get her properly armed, Daryl.” Rick stated making his leave with Michonne as Daryl went off to get everything ready.

It’s been about nine weeks of having Y/N within their community. Everybody likes her, a little more because she does her part. Leo is a little attention whore unintentionally, but every moment he’s in his mother’s lap while they’re out on the porch. He’d scream at everyone that passes by and make grabby hands as his way of saying hello. Frank has become Daryl’s hunting buddy once he was trained a bit by the archer to do such. He even sneaks into the man’s room at night when Y/N has her door closed, he only scratches if both their doors are closed.

Honestly. If you squint, Daryl got his own little family. Hell even Carol pointed it out once.

“Shut up”

“What! You’re protective of them, especially her.” Carol smiles walking through the forest with her best friend and her dog. “Admit it, D. Something about her cracked open that heart of yours that you want to do more than protect her”

“You’re fucking crazy” Daryl scoffs, watching Frank go in a full blown sprint toward a rabbit inevitably catch it.

“I’m not the one that takes her dog out for hunting trips and always bring back something from the catch just for her”

Daryl was starting to regret inviting her on this hunting trip. But was she wrong about his hidden feelings? No.

Arriving back to Alexandria, Frank immediately made a beeline for Y/N who was helping with the farming that day. She took her gloves off before kneeling to the dog’s level and giving him some loving pets. Daryl made his way over and watched how Y/N instantly smiled in his direction causing his mind to short circuit a bit.

“He wasn’t trouble was he?”

“Nah, he actually caught a few things”

“Wow, good boy Frank” Y/N smiles as Frank pulls away from the pets to go sniff and lay next to Leo who was sitting on a blanket nearby. “Feel free to always take him out. Just as long as you both come back in one piece” she straightens up continuing to smile before getting back to work.

Daryl lingered for a bit, still thinking about what Carol said and implied earlier. He left when he felt awkward for standing there too long and once he did, Michonne came up to Y/N as if she was waiting for him to leave.

“So, how are you liking being here?” Michonne smiles as she helped Y/N finish planting a new line of tomato seeds they found on a run.

“It’s nice. I’m grateful, to all of you. Especially Daryl even if we weren’t that talkative in the beginning”

“You were getting used to new people and how we do things around here. It’s understandable”

Y/N glances over to check on how her son was doing, to notice Daryl checking on both him and the dog as she couldn’t help the warmth she felt seeing her son’s eyes light up at the man. Michonne smiles watching the same display as Daryl eventually brought himself to sit with the two for a moment. Which prompt her what to say next, to see something.

“You know, you can get your own place here. Just you, your son, and dog”

“Oh”

“Oh?” Michonne questions watching Y/N tense, something she didn’t expect to happen.

“I don’t know. I just feel safe knowing he’s there”

“I don’t think he minds having all of you there. It was just something I thought I’d bring up”

Hours passed since that conversation but to Y/N it felt more like…well she didn’t exactly know how she felt. She knew she felt safe and happy. Something that hasn’t happened together in a long time. It felt like Michonne was prompting something to get her to say what she needed to hear. But that doesn’t matter anymore. For now.

Y/N comfortably sat on the couch with her legs up and son laying on her chest peacefully sleeping. She heard the front door open watching Frank trot right in noticing her and heading over to join them on the couch while Daryl follows shortly behind.

“Hey” Daryl kept his voice low noticing the sleeping child as Y/N gave him a smile. “Yea hungry?”

The second she said yes, Daryl went ahead to making dinner as Y/N got up to put Leo down to sleep further with Frank trailing her the entire time. Once he finished cooking, the two found themselves eating in the silence and Daryl usually finishes first finding himself watching Y/N eat everything he’s prepared. He would look away whenever she looked up, thinking he was slick, but she always saw and fought back a giggle.

The two found themselves cleaning the dishes together and Daryl prepared a bowl for Frank while Y/N finished hand drying her plate.

“This feels so…domestic” Y/N laughs a little. “Makes me miss a little of the before”

“Did yea expect to have a kid and a dog in the before?”

“I had a cat before the outbreak. Makes me wonder where the fuck he’s at” She smiles opening the cabinet to put the clean dishes away. “But no. I didn’t expect this…it’s…good though. I love my little family”

“Uhm. Can I ask yea somethin’? If it’s too much yea don’t have to answer”

“Go ahead, D”

“Does…Uh. Your son have a dad out there lookin’ for him and you or…” Daryl asks watching her expression fall for a second as he instantly regretted it. “Forget it. I—-“

“No, no…it’s okay to ask that. And no he doesn’t have one. He wasn’t a good man so. I wouldn’t have wanted him anywhere near Leo…or me”

“I wouldn’t let him near y’all any way just from hearing that” He states, didn’t expect that to come out of him so easily as Y/N was taken back by his protectiveness which brought back that warmth she felt earlier.

“He’s dead so. Don’t have to worry about him…” She says softly, leaning back against the counter as Daryl straightens up after giving Frank his bowl.

“Still. I’ll protect yea always” Daryl locks eyes with her a moment as it felt as if it was…that moment. He brought himself close to her as Y/N pushes herself off the counter.

Her hands instantly find themselves on his hips as he gently brushes the hair away from her face about to make his move when the baby monitor picked up Leo’s crying.

“I’ll go—“

“I got it” Daryl finally gave her a full smile of his as he took a different chance by kissing her cheek. “I’ve got him sunshine” and left to take care of the little one.

Y/N watches the archer head upstairs as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Her thoughts rushing until Frank jumped on her snapping her out of them.

“He’s a good one huh?”

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i know i said i probably wouldn’t write more for brady, but, uh, here we are. this is porn with the barest minimum of plot. like genuinely this is so deranged but i had a wild time writing it. MAJOR props to @smileysvech for the title because i couldn’t think of a single one 😭

word count: 10.5k (😳 i had NO idea it was this long omg)

tw: period sex, like big time. this is essentially all smut and you’ve been warned. blood, obviously

summary: when you’re on your period, brady just wants to make you feel good

When Brady comes home after practice and his workout, a full five hours after he left the house in the morning, he finds you in the exact same spot on the bed - curled up in the fetal position. You have the plush Stormy he bought you as a joke when one of your date nights accidentally ended at the pro shop cuddled against your chest, your face pressed into the top of the pig’s stuffed head. You lift your head slightly when you hear him step into the bedroom and mumble a soft, pitiful ‘hi’ before pressing your face back into the stuffed animal.

Brady lets out a sympathetic hum and sits down on the edge of the bed, a plastic bag crinkling in his hand. “Hey, sweetheart, still feeling crappy?” His fingers are cool against your skin when he reaches over and brushes a few pieces of hair off your forehead. His forehead is creased with concern, full lips downturned in a frown.

“Every damn month, Brady,” you whine, pulling your knees up closer to your chest, trying to add pressure to alleviate the cramps. “Every month and somehow I’m still always knocked on my ass.”

Your periods had always been difficult, lasting a full seven days and coming with headaches, sore breasts, nausea, and raging cramps. Days one and two were always the worst and it blew your mind how you were surprised that you felt like hot garbage every time. It’s like you forgot about the symptoms and misery the second it was over. Being on birth control had helped a bit, but birth control came with its own side effects - a rapid weight gain, migraines worse than you’ve ever had before, and a total death blow to your sex drive. So, off the birth control it was. The weight had slipped off and the migraines were reduced back to a normal headache. It had taken a second for your libido to come back, worrying you, but thankfully it was back a few months after stopping the pills. Now you just have to suffer through the worst two days of your period, the edge coming off with a borderline unhealthy amount of Advil going into your body.

“Maybe this will help?” Your boyfriend grins a little as he rustles through the plastic CVS bag and withdraws a can of raspberry Arizona iced tea and two king sized Butterfingers bars. He holds the candy bars between his fingers, splayed out like he’s displaying a deck of cards.

Tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by Brady’s thoughtfulness and the flood of hormones in your body. You nod a little, giving him a wavering smile. “You’re too good to me,” you reach out and flatten your palm over Brady’s grey-sweatpants clad knee, the closest body part of his that you can reach from your position in the middle of the bed. Brady snorts a laugh.

“Sweetheart, this is nothing,” he leans back a little and sets the candy and drink on your bedside table, knocking the family-sized bottle of Advil to the floor and pushing your half-finished Tessa Bailey novel to the edge, nearly sending it to the abyss between the piece of furniture and the wall. “Whatever you need from me, I’m all yours for the rest of the day.”

It’s game day tomorrow, at home, which means Brady really is off the hook from team responsibilities until morning skate tomorrow. A sharp cramp works its way through your uterus and you wince, wiggling a little to stop your butt cheek from going numb.

“Can you just…like, cuddle with me?” You ask, rolling your neck so you can look up at Brady’s face. His eyes are soft and a low throb of want fights the cramps. You feel gross though, bloated and sore and right now all you can handle is being the little spoon to Brady’s big.

Brady’s nodding, already laying back on his side of the bed, “whatever you need from me, sweetheart,” he says, rolling onto his side and opening his arms for you to scoot in. His body is warm and inviting and you could cry with how badly you just need to be held right now. You feel stupid and silly and fragile, but Brady’s never shied away from giving you the comfort you need. He’s still and patient while you settle your head on the inside of his bicep, pressing your back against his chest, your ass flush against his groin, your knees bent and his knees slotted in right behind yours. Every inch of your body is pressed against Brady’s and the body heat coming off of him is better than any heating pad.

He wraps the arm that’s supporting your head over your chest, his forearm resting against your collarbone, and slides his other hand under the hem of your sweatshirt so his warm, broad palm can rest on your lower stomach, pressing down with gentle pressure to help your cramps. You sigh happily and relax back against him, tension seeping out of your shoulders and spine.

“Better?” He murmurs, breath hot against your ear and cheek. You nod, closing your eyes. Brady curls his knees up a little more so you’re both bent closer to a fetal position and there’s more relief for your lower back.

“Perfect,” you mumble, wiggling just a little so you’re even further in the cocoon of Brady’s arms. You can feel the slight press of Brady’s cock against the curve of your ass, but even that’s comforting, more so mentally than physically, since it’s proof that Brady still finds you attractive even when you feel your grossest. “How was practice?” You ask, happy to listen to Brady talk while you ignore the twinge of cramps.

He chuckles a bit, his chest vibrating at your back. “Same old,” he says and it feels so good when his chest moves against your back, the soft rumble of his voice in your ear. “Brett says to tell you that Amy’s gonna text you about a viewing party for the away game next week, thinks it’s her turn to host?”

You hum a confirmation, nodding against Brady’s arm. “It is. I get the game when you’re all up in Montreal,” you reply, knowing you’re probably going to have half a dozen texts from Amy when you eventually muster up the energy to pick up your phone. Brady’s hand rubs soft circles against your lower stomach, releasing more of the tension that’s built up without you realizing it. You shift again, stretching your lower back and feeling the giant pad you’re wearing move around. Brady has to be able to feel it with how closely you’re pressed against him and the thought makes you tilt your hips forward, away from his dick, so he doesn’t realize that you’re basically wearing a diaper.

Brady presses gently on your stomach and on your shoulder with his other hand. “Sorry,” he mumbles a little sheepishly, and you wonder why until he continues, “I know you’re not in the mood to have my dick poking at your ass. Swear I’m not that guy that’s worried about getting off when you’re feeling so crappy.”

“Oh!” You bite down on your lip to smother a little smile even as your nose burns with hormonal tears. Honestly, it hadn’t even occurred to you that Brady would think you were shifting away because of him. “No,” you rush to reassure him, twisting your neck so you’re looking at him from an awkward angle. “I’m not…I didn’t think…oh fuck, I just didn’t want you to, you know, have to feel everything that’s going on,” you wave at your lower half with one hand vaguely, “down there.”

“Sweetheart,” Brady’s lips quirk up in a little smirk, “I’m thirty years old, I don’t have any issues with what you’ve got going on. Besides,” he chuckles a little before kissing your temple, “I’ve seen the box of pads under the sink.”

Your entire face flushes hot and you grumble, “well, let’s just not talk about that.” Brady laughs again and kisses your hot cheek. It’s almost unnatural how sweet he is, but you suppose after the string of terrible boyfriends in your early twenties, this is what it’s like being in an adult relationship with an adult man.

“How about you close your eyes and try to nap?” Brady suggests. He subtly pulls you closer again, until your ass is back where it belongs against his semi-hard dick. His thumb strokes an arc under your belly button and you sigh, warm all over from Brady’s body curled around yours. “I know you tossed and turned all night.”

“Sorry,” the words get lost in his bicep, your cheek pressed against the fabric of his t-shirt. “Tried not to move so much.”

Brady’s hand moves in lazy circles against your skin and he keeps you pressed tightly against his chest. He’s functioning like the world’s greatest weighted blanket. When he replies, his breath ruffles the little pieces of hair escaping your messy bun. “Should’ve woken me up, I would’ve spooned you until you fell asleep again,” he sounds almost hurt that you didn’t wake him up.

“Next time, I’ll wake you up,” you promise, pressing a soft little kiss to the inside of Brady’s bicep, brushing your nose over the soft skin. His arms tighten around you and you feel him kiss the back of your head.

“Just wanna be there for you,” he says, yawning a little. The yawn is contagious and your jaw cracks a little with the effort. Brady tucks one leg in between yours and you settle back, your head resting under his chin.

You must fall asleep at some point, because when a sharp, persistent cramp stabs at your abdomen, sending you curling forward in a tight little ball, the sun is a little lower in the sky and blinding you from where it peeks out under the partially opened blinds. Brady’s arms are still wrapped around you, keeping you mostly in place even as you’re pressing your hands to your lower stomach to try and alleviate the cramps. Whatever brief reprieve you had during your nap is gone now, the pain back with a vengeance, and you groan a little, waking Brady from his nap.

“Bad again?” He asks, voice rough with sleep. The arm around your chest drops flat down to the mattress and you roll a little onto your stomach, pressing your hand tightly against it. His other hand is caught in between your body and the mattress, tangled in the waistband of your shorts. He wiggles his fingers ineffectually.

“Mhm,” you mumble into the pillow your face is pressed against. “C’n you give me Advil?”

“Yeah, whatever you need,” Brady rolls onto his side and hangs his upper body off the side of the bed to scoop up the bottle of Advil off the floor. He pops the top off and starts shaking pills into his hand before stopping and squinting at you suspiciously. “Wait, how many have you had already?”

“Two?” The lie comes out as a question and Brady rolls his eyes at you, lips twisted in an amused expression.

He cups his hand and drops the pills back into the bottle. “You want to try that again?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and leaning back to set the bottle on your bedside table.

You roll back onto your side, facing Brady, and poke your lower lip out in a pout. “Okay, so maybe it was like five or six, but I think I know how many Advil I can handle, Brady,” you can’t help the sharp edge that colors your response. The cramps are a stabbing pain, radiating through your lower back and hips. “Just give me one at least.”

Brady reaches out and settles his hands on your hip to pull you closer. He huffs your name on an exasperated sigh. “No way, your liver’s going to give out if you take any more Advil. Come here and I’ll give you a massage, see if that helps,” he says already rubbing one large hand over your lower back. His thumb digs into a particularly sore spot and you let out an involuntary moan, gasping a little. The muscles in your back are so knotted and stiff that even Brady’s gentle touch is painful.

“I…s’not gonna help,” you whine, wiggling under his touch. Tears fill your eyes involuntarily. “Hurts too much.” You exhale a harsh breath and roll away from him, wincing when you sit up. You have to change out your pad and moving might help. Brady doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him watch you as you rush off to the bathroom, hunched a little when another sharp stab of pain grips your stomach. Fuck this. One-tenth of the pain of actual childbirth contractions? If that’s true, you’re making sure you’re completely knocked out when you have kids.

You don’t linger in the bathroom, cleaning up and getting yourself ready to crawl back under the covers, making a mental note to see your gynaecologist again and harass her about a possible endometriosis diagnosis. Because this shit is just not natural.

Brady’s propped up against the headboard, his phone in his hand. He looks up when you come back into the bedroom and you’re not entirely sure you love the look on his face. He holds up his phone, displaying the screen even though you can’t see the webpage, and says, “you know, orgasms are a natural way to get pain relief from cramps.”

You’re shaking your head before Brady’s even finished talking. “No, no way. I’m never able to get myself off properly anymore, I’ve been spoiled,” you shoot him a mock glare and his smile turns smug. You continue, cutting him off when he opens his mouth, “And! It’s gross, I’m gross, I’m not letting you anywhere near me. All the blood and…and…well, stuff.”

Hands on your hips, you stubbornly remain standing at the foot of the bed, shaking your head at Brady. He tosses his phone onto the mattress and gets on his knees, crawling down the bed towards you. “Sweetheart, a little blood doesn’t bother me,” he waves his hand in the general vicinity of his face, where a cut across his nose is still healing after he took an elbow to the face two games ago. The resulting nosebleed had been fairly epic, to hear him tell the story. “Plus, I want to help you. Let me help you feel better.” He sits back on his heels and wiggles the same hand in the air, fingers splayed. “You know I’m good with my hands.”

He is REALLY good with his hands. And your poor swollen cunt throbs a little, arousal building low in your stomach despite everything else happening in your body.

“I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart,” Brady promises, looking earnest as hell. “If it doesn’t work, we can go back to Advil overdoses.”

Reluctantly, and chewing at your lower lip, you nod. “Okay, yeah, I guess we can try it,” you sigh. Truthfully, you’ve never tried to orgasm yourself to pain relief with your periods. It always felt so messy and gross.

Brady nods and hops off the bed, “I’ll be right back.” He disappears out into the hallway, leaving you standing at the foot of the bed, wondering just what you’re getting yourself into. You can hear a closet opening and closing and then Brady’s back, holding an old, but still semi-plush towel in his hands. He pushes the comforter on your bed to the side and spreads the towel out. You look at it and wrinkle your nose. This is going to be such a mess. But another cramp sends your stomach into a spasm and you grit your teeth. Okay, whatever it takes to relieve some of this pain.

“Come on,” Brady’s hand rubs wide circles over your back. “I’ll prop up and you can lean against me, okay?”

You nod and Brady’s on the bed, in the same position he had been before - propped against the headboard and legs spread wide so there’s room for you. “I’m keeping these on,” you huff, snapping the waistband of your shorts before crawling onto the bed. “It’s already going to be a mess, I want to keep everything contained.”

Brady laughs, “we both know it’s not the first time I’ve made you come while you’re fully clothed.” He pauses, smirks. “And it won’t be the last time.”

Your face heats up again and you push gently at Brady’s shoulder, “shush, you. This is so embarrassing.” You gingerly settle in the vee of Brady’s legs, stiff and sore. He kisses the crown of your head and gently tugs on the back of your sweatshirt so you’ll relax back against his chest.

“Why are you embarrassed?” He asks, running his hands over your thighs and up your hips. Your stomach clenches a bit when he slowly works his hand up your shirt and brushes his knuckles against your abdomen. He knows not to go any higher than your waist, that your breasts are so sore you’ll cry if he touches them, but he touches everywhere else. “I told you, I’m thirty years old. I’m not grossed out by your period, sweetheart. I hate that you’re in so much pain and if I can do anything to help,” one hand slides down the front of your stomach and his fingertips dip beneath the waistband of your panties, “I’m going to.”

His fingers slide lower and you tense a little, knowing he’s going to hit up against the pad and even though he’s so chill about it, you’re not. “Relax, sweetheart,” Brady murmurs into your ear, kissing your cheek. “Let me take care of you.” You nod faintly, forcing yourself back against Brady’s broad chest, feeling the hardening ridge of his erection against your lower back. That helps, and when Brady’s fingers finally start to stroke your swollen, sensitive flesh, you shudder a little and then relax completely. His movements are maybe less firm than usual, his fingers slipping around a little more. He takes his time, finding your clit easily and circling it with the tip of his index finger.

“Oh, Brady,” you gasp his name, sliding down his chest a bit, opening your legs wider so he has better access. Your eyes flutter closed and Brady’s free hand rests on your left inner thigh, holding it open.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he mumbles, angling and reaching forward. His middle finger is at your entrance, carefully pressing inside. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You shake your head. Heat is building in your stomach, the throbbing between your legs overtaking the pain of your cramps. “Not enough,” you sigh, breaking off into a little gasp when Brady’s thumb presses a little more firmly over your clit. You blink rapidly, his fingers slipping too easily from where you need him. “I…more…s’fine. Put your fingers in me, Brady, please.”

Brady’s middle finger slides in, deeper and deeper until the knuckles of his other fingers are pressed against your folds. “Whatever you need,” Brady says, running his other hand over the outside of your thigh. Your legs start to tremble and he pumps his finger and out of you, sliding easier than he normally would with just your arousal to help. You try not to think about the kind of mess his hand is going to be covered in. He crooks the finger and taps against your inner wall and your stomach clenches.

“Oh!” You gasp, clenching around his finger. “More, Brady. I’m so…I need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, taking his free hand and brushing your hair off your face. He kisses your neck, sucking gently while he wiggles his ring finger up next to his middle finger inside your cunt. His thumb ghosts over your swollen clit and you bite back a moan, grinding down on his fingers. “Come on, sweetheart. You feeling good? Tell me what you need.”

“Faster,” you whine, your stomach tightening with every pump of Brady’s fingers. The sound his fingers are making as they work in and out of you is obscene even when it’s partially muffled by your shorts, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it feels so good. Brady wraps his free hand around your thigh, pulling it open slightly so he has more room to work. His hand is trapped by the constraints of fabric and can only move so fast. But the pace he’s pumping into you is perfect. His fingers slide deeper inside of you, pressing against your g-spot and your toes curl against the mattress, a low wail escaping from your lips. You clamp your mouth shut, face flushing hot with embarrassment at how loud you’re being.

Brady keeps pumping his fingers, murmuring in your ear, “go ahead, sweetheart. Be as loud as you want while you come for me. Scream, let me hear you.”

He flicks his thumb over your clit and you scream his name, your entire body going taut as he works his fingers harder, bringing you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds low in your stomach, a coil of heat and tension. His fingers curl and you finally let go, surrendering to the wave of pleasure that loosens your entire body. It’s not the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had, but it’s strong enough, making your brain a little fuzzy and sending endorphins rushing through your veins. Your head drops back against Brady’s shoulder and he peppers your exposed neck with soft kisses. He mumbles terms of endearment against your skin, encouraging your orgasm with his words as his fingers continue to work you through the aftershocks.

You slump back against Brady’s chest and his free arm wraps around your waist. “Feeling better, sweetheart?” Your legs are a little shaky and you stretch out, inadvertently clenching around Brady’s fingers.

A satisfied hum leaves your throat even as Brady sucks in a breath from the feeling of being knuckles deep in your cunt. His cock stirs against your lower back and in the back of your mind, you feel a little bad for him, that he’s going to have to use his hand in the shower. But your cramps have settled to a minimal ache that’s completely bearable, so you tuck your head under Brady’s chin and mumble, “thank you, baby. That was perfect.”

“Happy to be your personal orgasm provider,” Brady chuckles, pulling his hand from the waistband of your shorts. You wince at the blood that streaks his skin, reddish-brown and dripping down to his wrist. Behind you, Brady shrugs a little and wipes his hand on the towel under your bodies. He kisses the side of your head. “Sweetheart, gotta clean up for a minute. I’m gonna go clean off and uh, take care of something.”

The ‘something’ is pressing insistently against your lower back and you manage a soft hum of empathy as you lean forward so Brady can slide off the bed. He snatches the towel out from under you in one smooth move, balling it up in his hands. “Mhm, clean your hand and come back, I’ll take care of you,” you offer sleepily. The orgasm has your head fuzzy and your entire body relaxed.

Brady kisses your forehead and you slump against the pillows. “Take a nap,” he grins against your skin. “I’ve got this.”

You hum again, wriggling against the warm sheets. Brady chuckles lowly and you hear him pad off into the bathroom. The shower turns on and you can imagine Brady stripping down to nothing, his cock jutting out proudly, stepping under the spray and gripping himself. Your clit gives a faint throb at the mental image - honestly, it could be a memory with how often you’ve had sex with Brady in that shower - and you press your thighs together. Now that your cramps have faded away and the initial embarrassment and awkwardness of sex on your period is cleared from your mind courtesy of Brady’s fingers, you’re feeling horny. Mingled with the sleepy haze, you can’t really do too much about it except press your thighs tighter together and listen to Brady’s grunts and moans that the running water can’t cover up. You press your face into the pillow, wiggling and clenching around nothing, biting down hard on your lower lip when Brady’s strangled ‘fuck!’ echoes from the bathroom a few moments later.

The water shuts off and you’re feeling more awake, the fuzz in your brain from the orgasm fading away. You can hear Brady moving around in the bathroom and he emerges a few minutes later in a cloud of shampoo and Dove soap scented steam. He’s back in his grey sweats and black t-shirt, with the towels balled up under his arm. His hair is damp, darker than usual from the water, and slicked off his face, which is tinged pink from the hot water. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him, all of your blood pooling between your legs.

“Thought you were gonna nap?” He says, eyes twinkling.

You manage to shake your head. “Not sleepy,” you say, rolling onto your side.

Brady’s grin is teasing as he comes to stand at the side of the bed. “Guess I didn’t do my job well enough,” he jokes, leaning one knee down on the mattress, making it dip under his weight. His warm, broad palm comes to rest on your cheek, thumb swiping over your cheekbone. “Let me throw on a load of laundry and order some dinner for later, then I’ll come back and cuddle, okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, leaning into his touch. You lick your lower lip and Brady tracks the movement, but says nothing. He nudges your cheek with the knuckle of his index finger and heads out of the bedroom. You watch him leave, eyes locked onto his stupidly firm ass. With a frustrated exhale, you slump further back into the pillows, surrounded by Brady’s scent. You yawn, surprising yourself with how quickly your energy levels shifted the second Brady was out of the room. You let your eyelids flutter shut, figuring you’ll just get in a quick little nap before jumping your boyfriend.

By the time Brady slips back into bed, you’re more than halfway to sleep, eyes closed and limbs loose. He settles himself on his side of the bed and you gravitate towards him naturally. “Warm,” you mumble, tucking your head under his chin and pressing the tip of your nose against the hollow of his throat. Brady’s arms tighten around you, the best kind of weighted blanket.

“Ordered Chinese for later,” he tells you quietly. “With extra fortune cookies.”

“My hero,” you grin sleepily against his skin. He’s really so warm, like a personal radiator, and you sling your leg over his hip, notching your core against his groin without really comprehending it. The stretch feels good on your sore hip and lower back muscles and Brady slots one leg over yours, his muscled thigh pressing gently against your cunt. He can feel the warmth of you through the leg of his sweats and his cock twitches behind the fabric.

“Anything for my girl,” he says, stroking your hair and back, lulling you right to sleep in the warm cocoon of his embrace.

It’s not a very long nap, less than half an hour, but you wake up feeling semi-refreshed. Your cramps are starting to increase in intensity again and you’ve shifted while you slept so that you’re pressed flush against Brady’s half-hard cock, leg wrapped snugly around his hip. His thigh is pushed against your cunt, making it throb. He smells so fucking good and one of his hands is resting low on the curve of your ass. You wiggle experimentally and Brady laughs above you, his chest vibrating.

“Was wondering how long you were gonna sleep,” he says, bringing his hand over your hip to run against the outside of your thigh. “You’ve been making these little noises,” he continues and he sounds half tortured. “Little sighs and grunts. Feeling okay?”

You can’t think, not with his thigh in between your legs, his cock nudging against you. Your stomach flips, not with the cramps though, and you grind yourself over his thigh. Brady’s hand moves to grip your hip, helping guide you over his thigh. He laughs a little, “guess I have my answer. You want more than this, sweetheart, or you just want to use me?”

“I don’t know,” you tuck your chin to your chest, your forehead pressing into the hard edge of his collarbone. Your hips move and it feels good but it’s not enough, not with the extra layer of your pad between you. You can’t get enough friction and you whine low in your throat. “Brady, need you, please, I don’t…” you babble, trying to figure out what you need even as heat builds low in your stomach. The hand that isn’t on your hip falls to your ass and kneads gently, his fingers digging into your skin.

Brady drops a kiss to the crown of your head and mumbles, “okay, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I’ve got you.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You plant your palms flat on his chest and grind brazenly against his cock, sighing happily at the increased pressure. His hands grip at your hips and he helps you grind down harder, “this good for you, sweetheart? You going to get off like this?”

You shake your head against his chest - no, this isn’t enough for you. It feels good and the tension is building in your stomach, a gush of arousal and, likely, blood flooding between your legs. It’s like the feeling of sneezing on your period, but worse and you almost hate it. “Can I - can,” you stumble over the request, knowing that it’s gross, starting to feel embarrassed again. “Ugh,” you frown into his shirt, rolling your hips against his like a teenager, “I need more, Brady.”

He nods seriously and lifts you gently off of him, setting you on the mattress. When you whine at the loss of contact and grab at his shirt, he clicks his tongue and says, “trust me, I’m going to give you everything you want. Just gotta get another towel, okay?” He untangles your fingers from his shirt and kisses your fingertips before practically hopping out of bed and beelining for the linen closet. He’s back before you can process, laying out the towel and pulling you to the edge of the bed. Brady tugs at the waist of your shorts, “these are coming off and then you’re gonna tell me how you want it. You want me on top or is that going to be too much?”

His voice is soft with concern for your pleasure and a shiver works its way down your spine. You wiggle your hips and reach for the waistband of Brady’s sweats, curling your fingers beneath the fabric. His cock tents the front of the sweats, a perfect imprint in the fabric for you to stare at. Brady’s big and he knows it, knows that when he gets going it’s a pleasure-pain sort of stretch. When you ride him it’s a little easier to control the pace and how deep he can hit. A cramp ripples through your lower stomach and back and you wince, making a decision.

“Wanna be on top,” you chew at your lower lip, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of Brady’s sweats and brushing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

“Whatever you need, baby,” he grins, certainly not going to object to having you ride him. He hisses when your fingertips graze his cock, twitching under your touch. He pulls you to your feet and wraps his arms around you in a tight hug, the pressure easing some of the soreness in your body, before ducking his head to capture your lips with his. You melt into his arms, licking at his lower lip until he opens his mouth for you. Liquid heat rushes through your body, warmth pooling low in your stomach. Brady deepens the kiss and moves a hand up to tangle in your hair. He tugs gently, manoeuvring your head to the side so he can change the angle of the kiss.

You sigh into his mouth and Brady turns so he can sit down on the bed after he breaks the kiss. “Pants off, sweetheart,” he grins, scooting back so he’s sitting on the towel, his back against the headboard. He tosses all the pillows to the other side of the bed so they can stay clean.

Your heart is still pounding in your chest from the kiss and you only hesitate briefly before you shimmy your shorts down your legs, kicking them off your ankles and off to the side. “You next,” you grin, another flood of arousal pooling between your legs when Brady gives you that cocky smirk you love so much. He pulls his shirt off over his head, discarding it to the floor and messing up his hair. A few strands fall over his forehead and he makes no move to brush them to the side. The fading sunlight glints against the greys and another pulse of desire throbs through you.

His hands fall to his crotch and he grabs at himself through the grey fabric, emphasising just how big and hard he is. With a groan, Brady grinds his heel over the base of his cock through the fabric, a little damp spot from his pre-cum turning it a darker grey. He makes a show of it, pulling the waistband of his sweats down one side of his hip and then the other, the red, leaking tip of his cock appearing above the elastic. You lick your lips again and Brady lifts his hips off the mattress so he can pull his sweats down further, tucking the band under his balls and letting his cock spring free. He’s thick and hard and curves towards his stomach. His balls are full and heavy looking, resting on the band of his sweats and it’s stupidly erotic, the fact that he’s keeping his pants on.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping a few times to get himself as hard as possible, “sit on it and I’ll make you feel good.”

Even as arousal floods between your legs, you hesitate, thinking of the mix of blood there as well. “You’re sure?” You ask, twisting your fingers in the sleeves of your sweatshirt. Brady’s hand is still wrapped around his cock and you can barely focus on anything other than the pre-cum leaking from the red, angry looking tip. Your clit gives a painful little throb in time with a twinge of a cramp in your lower stomach. Your body knows how it feels to have that broad head of him push past your folds and it’s reacting.

Brady leans forward, his hand falling away to rest on the mattress, “hey, if you don’t want to, I’m good. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with, sweetheart.” He smiles, eyes crinkling up at the corner, “I’ll make myself presentable and we can watch TV or something.” His cock bobs in his lap, bumping up against his stomach and to his credit, Brady barely winces at the sensation against his sensitive tip.

His willingness to go along with your mood changes only makes you want him more, so before you can second (or third) guess yourself, you rush into the bathroom to wiggle out of your panties and get rid of the pad, hurrying back into the bedroom with your thighs clenched together so you don’t get anything on the carpet. Brady’s lips are pressed together to suppress a little laughter at the way you’re moving and you roll your eyes at him. “Laughing at me isn’t very nice, Mr. Skjei,” you huff with faux annoyance.

Brady opens his arms and cocks an eyebrow, “I would never laugh at you.” His gaze drops between your legs and you flush hot.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble. “I’m not wearing pants.”

“That’s exactly why I’m looking at you,” Brady teases in a low voice. He pauses and mutters, “oh fuck,” before leaning to his side, reaching for the drawer on his bedside table. “Should’ve done this while you were in the bathroom,” he mumbles, withdrawing a condom.

“It’s like you’ve never done this before,” you tease with a giggle, watching Brady’s movements like a hawk. His fingers deftly tear into the foil and wrap around his cock again so he can roll the condom over his length. He pumps himself a few more times and it seems like his cock swells in front of your eyes, filling the latex obscenely. You press your thighs together tighter, throbbing and ready to sit on him.

He mock glares at you, “making fun of the man who’s planning on giving you multiple orgasms to help your cramps is a low move, sweetheart.” He crooks his fingers at you. “Now come here so we can get to work on that pain relief.”

Your stomach tightens and you shuffle over to the bed, awkwardly trying to get up onto the mattress without dripping everywhere. “Brady…” you can’t help the little whine that escapes your lips and he takes pity on you, leaning onto one hip and wrapping his hands around your waist to haul you up on the bed. You kneel at his side and throw your leg over his lap, straddling him with your back to him. As soon as you open your legs, it feels like a tidal wave of liquid, even though you know that’s not how it works. At worst, a few drops of blood and arousal make their way down your inner thighs and you know they’ll be stopped by the fabric of Brady’s sweats. Even still, you feel impossibly exposed.

“What are you doing?” Brady asks, smoothing one hand down over your ass cheek and giving it a quick squeeze. His other hand is warm on your outer thigh. “I don’t get to see that gorgeous face?”

“No,” you huff, hovering over him with your knees planted on the mattress on either side of his thighs. “I don’t want you that deep, it’s going to hurt.”

“Okay,” Brady kisses behind your ear, “whatever you need, sweetheart.” He grips the base of his cock in one hand and rests the other hand on the curve of your hip. “Ready?”

You nod, chewing at the inside of your cheek, your inner thighs already trembling. Brady lines himself up at your entrance, the broad head of his cock nudging against you. You sink down on him with a sigh, the stretch of him filling you forcing all the air from your lungs. Behind you, Brady grunts at the feeling of you sinking down on his cock, his grip on your hip tightening. His hand pulls away from his cock and he gets a solid grip on your hips, making sure you don’t sit on him too fast, giving you time to adjust. Inch by inch, you take him, bracing your hands on his thighs in front of you.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Brady rasps an encouragement in your ears, holding your hips like his life depends on it. “That’s it, let me fill you up.”

It’s so easy to have him slide into you, easier than usual due to the extra slickness from your period. You can feel the mix of your blood and arousal drip down your thighs, surrounding his cock.

You babble his name, gasping when you sink down onto the final few inches of him, your ass making contact with his lap. He’s fully sheathed inside of you, thick and hard, still so deep despite the position that you imagine you can feel him all the way up to your throat.

Brady’s still underneath you, the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your thighs as he lets you get adjusted. You lean back against his chest carefully, the underside of his cock rubbing pleasantly against your swollen clit. A soft whine works its way up your throat and Brady’s hands trail from your hips down to the inside of your thighs, pulling gently to open you up further. “No, no,” you mumble, “too wide. Too much.” You squirm on his lap, trying to catch your breath from just the sensation of Brady keeping you full.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he kisses your neck, gently rolling his hips up into yours, making you gasp. Your nipples tighten into painfully hard points, desperate for Brady’s hands. “Tell me what you need.”

You grind down on Brady’s cock instead of responding, slowly riding him to build up the coil of pleasure in your lower stomach. You clench around him and Brady grunts into your hair again, fingers flexing around your thighs. “Fingers, Brady, I need…” you mumble, head thrown back to rest on his shoulder. “More, need more friction.”

The slow glide of his cock in and out of your cunt, against your clit, is pleasurable, but not nearly enough. Brady’s fingers are on your clit in the next second, pinching gently, and you gasp out his name, arching your back and forcing his cock deeper into your cunt. “Yes, yes, there. More…please, B-brady!”

“So fucking wet, baby,” he murmurs, one hand on your hip to help you ride him. His fingers work deftly over your swollen clit, sliding around easily. He bends one knee, planting his foot on the mattress and driving his cock even deeper.

You yelp, leaning forward to brace yourself, fisting the material of his sweats. “Stop, too deep, too much,” you whine, pushing at his knee so he’ll flatten his leg again. He compromises, straightening his leg a bit, but still keeping it partially bent. You breathe heavily, panting as you ride Brady’s cock. Pleasure builds in your lower stomach, hot and tight, growing as Brady’s fingers keep sliding over your clit, his cock thick in your cunt. He glides his hand over your back, down over your ass cheek, kneading your flesh.

“Come on, baby,” he encourages you in a strangled voice. “Use my cock. Know you can do it.”

You grab Brady’s wrist, holding his fingers against your clit, pressing down for friction and Brady takes the hint, rolling your swollen nub between his fingers, keeping his hand in place between your legs. Still gripping his wrist, feeling his muscles and tendons move under your fingers, you bounce on his cock. The sound is obscenely wet, filling the bedroom, louder than your breathless little moans and whimpers. Brady’s hand is tight on your hip, guiding you up and down on his cock while he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck.

“Brady, please, faster….I need….” you break off, chanting his name when he bucks his hips up into yours, meeting you thrust for thrust. His cock swells inside of you, painfully thick, and you reach down with your free hand to stroke at his balls, skimming your nails over the sensitive skin. Brady moans against your neck and his hand moves from your hip, wrapping his forearm around your lower stomach, adding more pressure and guiding you to lean forward slightly. Your nipples brush painfully against the fabric of your sweatshirt and you yelp, clenching involuntarily around Brady’s cock.

He thrusts up into you, thumb planted firmly on your clit and tears roll down your cheeks from the simulation, grinding down on Brady’s pelvis. You let go of his wrist and brace yourself on his thighs again, leaning forward and bouncing on him, the underside of his cock sliding against your clit. That, combined with Brady’s fingers, sends you over the edge, black spots dancing in front of your vision as your orgasm rips through your body. You chant Brady’s name, barely coherent while you rock on him, his cock hitting deep. Brady’s palm presses flat against your lower stomach and you let go, feeling your body gush around his cock.

“So good, sweetheart,” Brady murmurs, sounding dazed. “Keep riding, honey, take what you need.”

You cry out when he thrusts up into you, overwhelmed by sensation, but don’t stop circling your hips over his. Your brain is melted into a puddle of sensation, all of your nerve endings on fire as you clench around him again and Brady’s abdomen tenses. He hauls you flush against his chest when he finishes, shouting your name and filling the condom with cum. He reaches down and grasps the base of his cock, pumping himself into you and filling the condom faster. The warmth of it is different than when you decide to forgo the condom, but you still hum happily in Brady’s arms, stretched wide over his cock, your thighs trembling on either side of his lap.

“Brady…” you mumble his name, turning your head to bury your face in his neck while he fills the condom. Your hands grasp at his forearm wrapped around your waist and he peppers your face with soft kisses, grunting into your mouth when he’s wrung dry.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mutters against the corner of your mouth. “Got carried away at the end,” he brushes his knuckles against your sensitive clit and you shiver in his arms. “So fucking hot and wet.”

“S’okay,” you slur your words, your body coming down from the orgasm and leaving you limp against Brady’s chest. “I liked it. Felt good - feels good,” you amend, clenching absently around Brady’s softening cock. Every thought and sensation other than being filled up by Brady is gone from your head. He laughs against your skin and you can feel him wipe his hand off on the towel under his ass.

Your thighs and ass feel wet, sitting in a mixture of blood, your arousal, and Brady’s cum, and you wrinkle your nose a little, shifting on his lap. You can’t help but look down at Brady’s lap and you regret it almost immediately. His lap is soaked in your combined fluids, the grey of his sweats stained red. His cum is leaking out of the condom, out of your cunt, and dripping down his balls to pool on the towel. “Oh, Brady!” You yelp, less drowsy now, trying to scramble off of his lap. “Your sweats, the towel!”

Brady adjusts his grip on you so you can’t go very far. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve never liked these sweats anyway,” he jokes, gently manhandling you so he can slide out of your cunt and pull off the condom. He ties it off efficiently and makes no comment about the mess of his hands and lap.

“Well I liked them,” you pout, cheeks heating up for a different reason. “This was such a mess.”

“Are your cramps gone?” Brady asks, carefully swinging his legs to the side so he can stand up. You’re still pressed close to his chest, on your feet too now, thighs pressed together to prevent anything getting on the floor. The towel on the bed looks like a crime scene. Brady lets go of you briefly so he can tug his sweats up to rest on his hips, but then his hand is on your hip again, nudging you towards the bathroom.

“Yes,” you reply, toddling on shaky legs.

“Then it was worth it,” he leans down to kiss your cheek. “Get in the shower, I’ll clean up and join you.”

He tosses the condom in the wastebasket and wipes his hand on his thigh - the sweats are clearly a lost cause - before he reaches out and swiftly pulls your sweatshirt over your head. You shiver at the cold air on your sensitive nipples and Brady grins at you, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. You wrinkle your nose, but nod, bracing yourself for Brady’s tongue to flick gently over one nipple. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he presses a soft kiss to the swell of your breast. “You know I feel bad not paying attention to your entire gorgeous body.”

Despite the sensitivity, both nipples tighten just from Brady looking at them and you resist the urge to cross your arms over your chest. He’s seen everything, there’s no point in being embarrassed. You reach behind you and turn the shower on, making sure the knob is on a high temperature. “Don’t even bother trying to save the towel,” you sigh, “just toss it.”

“That was the plan,” Brady winks, kissing your forehead before disappearing from the bathroom. He leaves the door open behind him and once you step into the shower - groaning in pleasure when the scalding hot water hits your sore muscles - you can see him in the mirror, wadding up the towel and stripping the sheets from the bed. You really hope the sheets aren’t ruined since they’re beyond comfortable.

“Just swapping them for fresh ones,” Brady calls out to you, apparently a mind reader now.

You smile to yourself and focus on scrubbing shampoo into your hair, the eucalyptus scented steam relaxing your entire body. By the time you’re rinsing and repeating, Brady’s stepping into the shower behind you, sliding warm broad hands over your waist. He leans in and brushes his nose against your ear, lips ghosting over the sensitive skin at the hinge of your jaw.

“Hi,” you giggle, wiggling a little in his grip. Your legs are shaky.

“You smell good,” he mumbles, massaging at your lower stomach. You lean into his touch, still trying to work shampoo into your hair.

“I always smell like this,” you reply, ducking your head under the spray and letting the suds wash down your body. Brady’s fingers trail along with the soap, drawing lazy patterns against your wet skin. You shiver under his touch, unsurprised when the familiar tingle of pleasure starts at the base of your spine, in between your legs.

Brady notices the subtle move of your thighs and he lets his fingers trace the crease of your thigh, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Smell like mine,” he murmurs. “My girl.” His fingers move to the left, mere inches, and tease at your entrance. The tip of his middle finger circles your clit, still swollen and sensitive and you can’t believe you’re about to let him give you a third orgasm.

“Brady,” you gasp his name a little, closing your eyes against the sensation. Your hips cant towards his fingers, chasing his touch.

“Sweetheart,” Brady groans against your neck, his cock twitching against the back of your thigh. “Gotta let me feel you. No mess in the shower.”

He continues to slowly, gently circle your clit, making your brain fuzzy again and your knees week. You press a palm against the shower wall to hold you up, but there’s no chance of falling, not with Brady’s arms wrapped securely around you. You whine when Brady’s finger slips inside your cunt, curling gently.

“Feels good?” He asks, massaging at your lower stomach with his other hand. You nod against his shoulder. “Good,” he continues, “just want you to feel good.”

Brady’s usually chatty during sex, but this feels different, his words alternating between concern and filth, his fingers working their way over your clit. You can feel yourself dripping for him, slick and hot. “Brady, Brady… p-please,” you hiccup the words when he grinds his hardening cock against the split of your asscheeks. “Give me more.”

You plant both of your hands on the wall and widen your stance, feeling Brady line himself up at your entrance. The broad head of his cock slides through your folds, entering your cunt with an easy roll of Brady’s hips. You moan his name, still stretched out from earlier, so the feel of him inside of you is just pleasure. He kisses a hot trail over your shoulders, sucking gently at your pulse point, laughing when he can feel your heart skip a beat at the feeling of his fingers pressing against your clit.

“Feels so good,” he groans, thrusting into you, more gently than you’d expect. The drag of his cock against your inner walls has you clenching around him, arching your back, pressing your ass firmly against his pelvis. One of his hands holds your hip in place while he thrusts and the other snakes down your stomach to play with your clit. Brady’s fingers bump up against his own cock and he grunts, choking off the noise. You can feel his cock twitch from the contact.

Honestly, if you had known that being on your period would make the both of you this horny, you might’ve given in to period sex months ago.

Brady drives his cock into you deeper, punching air from your lungs in a sharp gasp. Your head falls forward, chin to your chest, and you watch with hazy vision as Brady’s cock splits you open. Water drips down your face, into your open mouth, nearly drowning you until you spit a little, angling your face away from the stream.

You’d barely come down from your last orgasm when Brady shuffled you into the shower, so it’s easier for him to build up this one. Pleasure works it’s way through your body, your clit throbbing under Brady’s touch, and before you know it, before you can really focus on it, he’s bullying that third orgasm from your body. Fingers and cock working together to send you over the edge. “Come on, sweetheart,” Brady talks you through the orgasm. “Go ahead, scream, cum on my cock.”

You shriek his name, fingers scrambling on the wet tile for purchase as Brady rocks his hips up into yours, rolling your clit between his thumb and index finger relentlessly. Nonsense words spill from your lips while Brady keeps up his pace and it’s only a few more heartbeats before he’s tightening his arm around your waist, his stomach muscles pulling taut, and spilling inside of you. He groans and drops his forehead to your shoulder, his hair flopping forward and brushing your skin. Brady’s fingers only stutter in their movements when he jerks to a finish inside of you and by then it’s too overwhelming so you reach down to push his hand away, whining that it hurts.

“Sorry, sorry,” Brady mumbles against your shoulder, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss there. He pulls his hips back a little, his softening cock slipping from your cunt and releasing a flood of his hot cum down your inner thighs. You shiver at the sensation, rubbing your thighs together a little and looking down to see the drips of blood and cum wash off your legs and down the drain. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head, dizzy and exhausted. Brady’s palms skim up your stomach and sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and he turns you so he can kiss you on the mouth. You melt into his touch, warm and pliable for him. Brady kisses the corner of your mouth again, a soft little peck, before he says, “okay, let’s get you cleaned up for real this time.”

A mumbled noise of agreement leaves your body and Brady keeps you propped up with one thick arm around your waist while he gently soaps you up and helps you rinse off. He gives his own body a quick scrub, paying extra attention below the belt, giving you a little smirk when you watch him clean himself up. You lean against the shower wall on shaky legs, letting the hot water keep you warm. You watch him shower, muscles bunching under his skin, and blurt out, “god, I love you.”

Brady rakes his hand through wet hair, slicking it off his face, and looks at you with warm brown eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he grins. He leans forward and brushes his lips over your forehead before turning the water off and reaching an arm out of the shower to grab one of the big fluffy towels that wait for you. He wraps you up, rubbing his hands over your arms to warm you, and once he’s confident that you’re grasping the towel around your body, he gets a second towel to wrap around his waist. From there, you let yourself be taken care of - Brady leaves you alone in the bathroom to grab you a pair of panties, handing them to you with a knowing smirk, before leaving again so you can get yourself settled with a pad. He’s dressed in a pair of boxers and a worn out University of Minnesota t-shirt when you eventually pad into the bedroom after lotioning up your entire body.

“Sweats or shorts,” Brady holds up both items of clothing and you reach for the pair of his joggers that he offers, wanting to be bundled up and cozy even though it’s not that cold out. You step into the sweats while Brady attempts to pull one of his shirts over your head, only for you to get tangled up in the fabric, blinded by the cotton, and tip forward with a little squeak of surprise. Brady grabs you before you can fall onto the bed, hands hot against the bare skin of your waist. “Ah, shit! Sorry, sweetheart,” his voice is muffled from the fabric around your head and you wiggle from his grip, tugging the shirt down so you can breathe again.

“You already killed me with orgasms,” you huff on a laugh. “No need to actually try and kill me.”

Brady laughs and lifts his hands in the universal sign for surrender. “I’ll let you handle getting dressed,” he chuckles. “Undressing you is my specialty anyway.”

You snort a laugh, managing to get yourself dressed and comfy, the sleeves of Brady’s shirt hanging over your hands. “No more undressing tonight,” you sigh, twisting your wet hair into a loose knot on top of your head before crawling into bed. “I’m tapped out, done, ready for a pile of lo mein the size of my head and a solid eight hours.” You fluff up your pillows and draw the comforter into a little nest shape around your body, curling up like a cat and yawning so wide your jaw cracks.

“Lo mein, I can promise since the delivery should be here any minute,” Brady replies, looking at you with a soft smile on his face. “Eight hours of sleep? Well, if three orgasms doesn’t wear you out enough, I’ll go for four tomorrow.”

You shoot him a sly little smile, even as your eyelids fall slowly closed. “four orgasms? Might have to start complaining of cramps all month long.”

Brady’s laughter fades out as he heads downstairs to check if your food’s been delivered. You snuggle into your little nest of blankets, feeling warm and impossibly relaxed, like all the stress and tension’s been completely removed from your body. You’re pleasantly sore between the legs and you stretch out a little, impatient for Brady to return so you can eat and cuddle up against him.

The mouth-watering smell of Chinese food precedes Brady’s return and you pop up into a sitting position like a cartoon animal, wide awake. Your stomach growls a little too. Brady laughs loudly at the expression on your face. He’s got two white cartons in his hands, a bottle of Gatorade under one arm, a wad of paper towel tucked in the crease of his elbow, and two pairs of chopsticks stuck into the top of one of the cartons. “You’re wide awake now, huh?” He asks, handing over one of the cartons and snatching his hand back like he’s afraid you’ll chew it off. He settles down next to you with his own carton, placing the Gatorade and napkins down on his bedside table.

“I am suffering, Brady,” you inform him primly, shoving a wad of noodles into your mouth and chewing happily.

“Poor thing,” your boyfriend pouts at you, taking a bite of his orange chicken. “And here I thought I helped you so much.”

You swing your legs over to drape over Brady’s thigh and lean in to kiss his lower lip. “Oh, you helped very much,” you grin against his mouth. “You’ve been such a big help.”

Brady laughs into your mouth. “See, now I know you’re teasing me, sweetheart. I might not be so generous with my help next time.”

You fake a gasp, “you wouldn’t!”

“Nah, you’re right, I wouldn’t,” Brady leans in to whisper against your ear, “not when I know how needy you are on your period. Or how easy it was to slide into that sweet, wet cunt.”

Lo mein noodles slip off the end of your chopsticks and your entire body flushes with heat. “Brady…” his name leaves your mouth on a shaky exhale and he laughs, rests his hand on the inside of your knee, and leans back against the headboard. His thumb draws lazy circles on the inside of your knee and you shiver a little.

“I’m here for your free use, sweetheart,” he offers, toasting you with the carton of chicken and rice. “Just say the word.”

You kick lightly at the outside of his thigh with your heel, still flustered. “Insatiable,” you murmur, unable to deny the flutter of interest in your lower stomach at Brady’s words.

“You love it,” Brady counters, feeding you a piece of orange chicken. You hum, not about to lie to him, and lean forward to get closer to the heat Brady’s radiating off his body. You’re both quiet for a bit while you eat, trading bites off each other’s chopsticks. You sip at your mostly warm raspberry Arizona, starting to feel sleepy again from the food and the warmth off Brady’s body. You don’t even realize that your head is drooping forward to rest against Brady’s bicep until he gently takes the mostly empty carton from your hands and sets it on the bedside table.

“Hey, time to sleep a little,” he says softly, lifting your legs off his lap and straightening them out so your entire body shifts.

You hum, eyes shut, and press your face into your pillow, scooting around and getting comfortable. Brady pulls the comforter over your chest, making sure your back is covered and you’re cocooned in the warmth. You reach out a hand from the covers and grab Brady’s wrist, wiggling your fingers until he laces his fingers with yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your fingertips. “I’m going to clean up, get some stuff ready for tomorrow, and I’ll be back,” he says against your fingers.

“Best Brady ever,” you mumble through a yawn, hearing his chuckle.

He strokes a piece of hair off your forehead and you’re passed out before he can let go of your hand and climb out of bed.

Cuddled under the covers, you don’t quite manage an uninterrupted eight hours of sleep, but when you wake up in the middle of the night with Brady’s entire body wrapped around yours, legs tangled together, heartbeat thumping steadily under your cheek, you don’t really mind.

[wolvertooth]

can you plz hate rant about the deadpool & wolverine movie… saw it last week and i didn’t like it all… very refreshing to see that someone shares my opinion lmao

i got u man👍 most of this was in my drafts from after the movie came out, but i just never got around to posting it. i added some other opinions ive had since then, tho theres still a lot ive said over the past month that ive totally forgotten about lol

the intro sequence was fucking HYPE‼️ but then, part way thru the movie, u realize....it doesnt ever hit that same mark again. WHERE TF WAS THE HUGH JACKMAN SONG THEY PROMISED? the trailers showed 95% xmen origins clips. the movie didnt mention it once. no the brothers line doesnt count. false fucking advertising. deadpools sexuality has been confirmed since 2014. and now, 10 years later, its still being reduced to gay jokes. and people still eat it up like its genuine rep.

that guy at the tva who’s whole punchline was that he likes men. why. in 2024. why is that allowed. his whole character was a gay joke. i mean so was deadpool, but this guys whole thing was. That. can i say homophobia? can i say i felt that? is that reasonable? this movie felt like a fundraiser for the future avengers movies to make up for all the recent flops.

i watched this shit twice and yea. i was right. the plot was half assed. once u watch it once, thats it. thats the fun. its all just cameos. the jokes didnt even make me laugh again, since it was majority shock based humor. my second watch thru i was trying not to fall asleep in my chair. the way it lacks plot isnt in the Not Coherent kind of way, but rather 'this couldve been a 40 minute monster of the week episode'....or maybe even a 2 episodes if they wanted to get freaky with it it just felt so separate from the rest of the movies, like it wasnt even a sequel.

literally, the movie begins with them abandoning the previous timeline and wade moving to a new ‘better’ one.....almost like hes moving over to a more sacred timeline.........separate from fox.........which is dumb af cuz the movie couldve been him accepting that whatever happens in ur life u cant go back and change, and u have to make due with the good u already have. the previous movie ended with him having a family, he didnt need a new one. i mean, they did that for logans 'learning moment', why wouldnt that also apply to wade? paradox literally says ‘hey we brought u in cuz the mcu is dying, so u should come over to the sacred timeline’ and then after he changes into his costume THEY CHANGE THE PLOT. THEY THROW THAT OUT. WITHIN MINUTES. now paradox is like ‘actually just your timeline is dying, and i wont elaborate on how that works. and also u dont get to go to the sacred timeline. and i hate you.’ WHY BRING HIM THERE AT ALL THEN IF THATS THE PLOT U CHANGED IT TO? ITS DOESNT MAKE SENSE. even if the plot was that he had to go to the sacred timeline cuz his own was dying, WHY WOULDNT HE BE ABLE TO BRING HIS FRIENDS?

what was the vanessa plot? they never explain why she broke up with him? theres like a tiny flashback where she says hes been distracted ever since he got rejected, rejected from what? clearly not the avengers, since that happens after she leaves him. so wtf was the motive here????? the cameos felt like props. especially the deadpool corps, which i feel like they didnt even skim a wiki article for. they just went off google images. which hurt me. cuz i reallyyyyy like those guys....in the comics, theyre a group of deadpools(consisting of lady deadpool, kidpool, headpool, dogpool, and deadpool), who in their first series save the multiverse from being destroyed(sound familiar?). theyre the GOOD GUYS. why tf would they hear cassandra nova say ‘hey im gonna kill the entire multiverse’ and go ‘alright sure whatever’. why were they in the void to begin with? how’d they get there? isnt the void just for movie continuities anyway? why was cassandra also there? how does the void work? why does the void exist? will someone please explain literally anything in this movie? why not have them come in later to save the fucking day instead??

oh lady deadpool...how they massacred ur character... OH KIDPOOL.....HOW THEY MASSACRED UR CHARACTER...... god speaking of that. cassandra nova had literally so much potential and they watered her down to just Evil Villain. she hasnt done much in the comics, but one the things she did in one them was using her powers for therapy on the xmen(which deadpool also made a cameo in). she sort of does this briefly in that one scene, but it was just so.....basic. bland. why was there no b plot with the rest of the main cast. did they think the audience doesnt watch these movies for them? cuz i sure fucking do. i was waiting for the continuation of colossus and wades epic romance arc. side note, the gay jokes in the previous movies felt even less queerbaity then these ones. this movies queerbaiting was just....sad. marketing queerbaiting. this movie WISHES it couldve been deadpool 2 levels of queerbait(shoutout to the extended sex mimicking scene set to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel)

did anyone catch at the end when deadpool was narrating and when he said ‘friends’ yukio and negasonic teenage warhead were on screen. did anyone see that. they disney gal paled them.

i know wade is supposed to be the Funny Guy but man. thats literally all he was this movie. the other ones has ANGST they had him be HUMAN while this one was like 'logan was mean to me one time ):' bro. what happened. where'd the writers go.

this wolverine was like. the wolverine 2014 wolverine. which is when fox wolverine started to lose character and just become grumpy and mean. hes also like that in Logan 2017, but the reason why this kinda attitude works in that one is bcuz hes old, hes fucked up, hes tired, and every fuck that comes outta his mouth he means it. and yet....still manages to experience other emotions. what a concept. ive read literal satire comics that understood his character more(shoutout to the What The--?! series). it just had me waiting for the 'gotcha! this wolverine is actually 3 dimensional!' but it never fucking got there. it was amusing in the beginning, but by like half way in, i did not give a single fuck about this guy. they tried to give him some emotional moment(like. the only emotional moment in the entire film) but it just...lacked the emotion. just 'heres my sad backstory. are u sad now?' and then they did the SAME THING AGAIN no we get it man u were at the bar instead of with ur friends and u went on a classic wolverine style berserker rage. why should we care tho?

i mean, sure, they could use the excuse of being in the type of depressive state where ur emotions numb out(speaking as a mfer with the came curse), and yea hes not the kinda guy to open up about his emotions unless he really trusts someone(which he would likely distance himself from forming connections with others after that kind of trauma), but with cassandra nova right there there was a missed opportunity for elaborating on that. for digging deep into his brain and telling why this fucked him up so bad. imo, if i were to write it, with everyone he gets close to he puts upon the expectation for himself that hes at fault for anything that happens to them. that he needs to be the savior, even in a friendship. to prove himself to be worth something. especially after a life of being convinced hes a burden by just existing as himself, he needs to have use in order to make up for the fact that hes Logan.

but whos going to save him? isnt he struggling too? whos gonna help you? looking at all the other logans across the multiverse, who is the wolverine? why do you keep falling for the same patterns no matter where you are and who you are? deadpool called sabretooth queen and she/her'd logan within like 5 seconds of eachother. that was pretty good ig

final verdict:

yknow. i think i get now the way fans reacted the way they did tho.

the other night i was rewatching the movie Hackers with my mom, saying that it was obvious the creators mustve known a lot about hacking in order to do such a good parody of it, out of love for the craft….but my knowledge of hacking is pretty minimal, so i have no actual fucking clue if that assumption is accurate or not. im just going off of a ton of references to hacking. for all i know, real hackers couldve hated this movie.

and thats how the average non comic fan saw this movie. they saw a buncha characters and references and thought ‘damn, they must really love the source material’ without knowing how much of a kick in the face it felt like to watch them get used and butchered like that.

[anachronism-ahitzine]

Anachronism Applications open now til the 18th!

Clarifications from questions asked:

Characters are NOT limited to a certain person. However, we just request that you list a few just in case one character gets saturated with requests and mods suggest you switch to a group piece or switch characters.

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Guidelines undercut:

General:

This zine is all ages! As a result, please refrain from creating any content that wouldn’t be present in the game. There’s no theme planned, but if you want to find a way to incorporate the title into your piece, props to you!

All communication will be done through Discord due to the nature of this project. Mods will message you within a few days once applications have closed with the link to join.

Please submit the finished piece with the account(s) you want to be credited under and an icon to represent you in the discord during the final check-in (Jan.22) .

We want all characters to be represented! When applying, please submit a few characters you are interested in in the format of first choice, second choice, etc. Mods will contact you in the event that there are too many people requesting the same character. Cut characters are fine as choices as well! Group pieces are exempt from this.

OCs are fine to include in your piece, but please keep the AHIT characters as the main focus of the piece.

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There will be three check-ins, including the submission date. The estimated timeline for them will be a few days during the weeks of Dec. 17th, Jan. 8th, and Jan. 21st. The zine completion date with all pieces submitted, edited, and published is the first week of February. Final dates will be posted in the discord once everyone has applied and we know the general number of people participating. Mods will give ample notice if this publishing deadline moves. Due to this, if you miss two check-ins without notifying mods, you will not be able to participate and will be dropped.

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Each piece of allotted a space of 5 pages or 2500 words. If you feel as though what you want to write would go over this amount, contact one of the mods and we can discuss it.

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[siremasterlawrence]

Henry Cavill has felt quite off for the longest time getting on his motorcycle he rides off in to the desert just blasting through the area as if he is in a race.

Story request by @male-meat-suit

Someone always feels like they beside him one way or the other he can’t escape it so he might as well make a run for it as far as he can go.

Henry checking his area through the mirror can help himself because every once in a while he keeps seeing a stranger in the view mirror.

Unfortunately for him he has no idea what

is to come this day the more he revs up the motorcycle getting him hard this should not be happening.

The power of the motorcycle revs up in even more roaring in to the road as he speeds in to the desert and the gas from the pipe blows up.

The motorcycle starts to glow blowing up in a shiny silver color channeling in to his body Henry does not know why but there is a true reverb happening.

A pair of arms reach on to him grabbing and groping him as he squirms on the seat he is in a sea of madness as his aura is now on a sexual high.

Suddenly, his body is losing absolute control every action, thought and motion is a totally robotic and he is no longer in control of his body.

A woosh or power rushes coming up from the bottom of feet shoots up in to the nerves occupying his body inside him he can feel a another soul.

His mind is spinning a figure in back of his mind a new figure standing alone in a dark shadowy figure looming over him growing stronger by the second.

“DAMN IT! Why this feeling go?”

“And what is with the glint?”

“A mirror trick?”

“BLAST”

“Calm down”

“Let me stop here and grab some water “

“I can’t help this feeling”

“Is someone watching me”

“Creepy “

“My head is spinning”

“Uuuugggghhhh!”

“Oh God!”

“Why am I so hard?”

“About to cum”

“FUCK”

“I am in control now”

“Who are you ?”

“Relinquish your body to me”

“Nnnooo Ssstttoooppp!”

His blue revels with a surge of electrical red bloody currents causing his cock to shoot cum through his pants instantly getting harder.

The pain pricking him causing him to soar, grow stiff and hard as they become totally immobile losing his balance he crashes to the floor.

His head spins blacking out in to semi aware drop in to unconsciousness with his body in a catatonic state of nothingness and black bleakness spreads.

Awakening in this space he lifts himself up in to the sky he sees the man an unimportant guy so unimpressive young guy with no muscle.

His super level definition of height he is now overshadowing the nerdy young man’s who stares at him with no fear or worry to his deflation.

In real time his body aimlessly his body is back on his feet checking out the area to see no cars coming and begins to strip off his clothes.

His hands digging under his shirt letting the sun shine on bus washboard abs throwing it to the side and his hands on his bely is next it’s sexy.

He hates this deep need to be used, lusted after and watched as the man is overtaking him it’s disgusting to me and it’s the stupid ridiculous.

The belt slides off, pants are unbutton and zipper drawn and it’s no more privacy from here. The pants are off leaving nothing but ones imagination.

Striking a pose he props up his cellphone on a display of rocks as he poses for a multiple sets of showcasing his body and even does a video recording.

“Hey I am Henry Cavill, I am fine, and vain.”

“I would never say that..you are liar”

“We can’t here you “

“Mwahahahahaha “

“The heat is killing me”

“And I am hot”

“It’s my body “

“Not anymore “

“Fuck! I won’t let you “

“As if you have a choice “

“I do…I one hundred percent do”

“You have no power here “

“Welcome to the sub space!”

“Hey baby”

“You want this pretty ass”

“I am free”

“To be with you and you “

“Of course you “

“Why am loving this?”

“I am fading! No! Let me go! I want my life…I”

“Bye bye”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Motherfucking pussy bitch”

Henry Cavill disappears inside his own mind he fell in to swirl submission.

The end

[ericaand]

Waking Up with Joseph Quinn - Part 2

I decided that my imagine needed a part 2, and maybe even continue. So here's part 2:

Word Count: 996

Warnings: None.

MASTERLIST

   "Good morning, beautiful. How you feelin'?"

You glance over in his direction and smile. "Well, I feel like I made a bit of a fool of myself yesterday. So, I kinda feel like an idiot. I mean, I was so nervous and -"

Joe turned toward you and propped himself up on his elbow. "Hey, it's fine. It wasn't as bad as you made it seem in your head." He gently made a fist and 'knocked' on your head, and smirked. 

You inhaled deeply, closed your eyes, and exhaled even longer. You shook your head and allowed yourself to consider making your way to the bathroom. You felt the bed sink back down a bit on the side opposite to you. 

As you lifted the covers, and swung your legs off the bed, you recalled that Joe probably saw you mostly naked. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and swallowed deeply. As you stood, you gazed toward Joe. Like the gentleman he was, he was peering the other direction out the window.

You shuffled your feet across the scratchy, barely there carpet, which eventually morphed into smooth marble tile. You didn't bother to turn on the light, and you were almost afraid to look in the mirror. 

You felt like your head had a heartbeat of its own, but the cold porcelain seat almost made it seem to appear duller. You'd decided that turning on the light was your best bet because you probably looked a little raccoon-like after that amount of alcohol. You reached your hand to push the switch up; buzzing from the fluorescent bulbs lining the top of the mirror to be a little louder than you'd prefer. 

You combed your fingers through your hair and gently swiped your ring finger from tear duct to the outer eye in one swift motion. It wasn't as bad as you'd thought it'd be, but showering was necessary today. 

You grabbed the cold door handle and swung until it was almost shut. "I'm gonna jump in the shower really quickly!" 

You tugged the shower handle toward yourself and allowed the steam to slowly fill the small room. The warm water trickled down the entirety of your body, sending chills from head to toe. After you finished, you swung the glass door open and stepped onto the icy marble. You slipped the oversized white shirt of Joe's over your body and stepped into your nude panties, one leg at a time. 

You pulled the large black door toward yourself, to find Joeseph standing in his boxers with your phone in his hand. 

"It's been going off." He reached his arm out toward you, as your phone continued to buzz.

    "Hello?"

    "Y/n! Are you okay? No one could get ahold of your last night after you left, and I have your key card. Where are you?" 

    "Oh," you winched. "I'm so sorry! I so didn't mean to scare you all. I'm...I'm at Joe's hotel room." You pulled your face into a grimace, and hung your head; waiting for Natalia's response. 

    "Oh. My. God. No way! Really? I knew he had a thing for you!" She shouted, more than loud enough for Joe to hear.

You flashed a look in Joe's direction, to see him leaning on the entrance door. His head hung slightly, swaying side to side, as the smile lines on either side of his mouth appeared. You felt red-hot heat fill your cheeks for the second time this morning, as your eyes widened; now focused fully on the marble floor once again. 

    "Um, it's not... it's not like that. I don't know if you could tell but I was totally shitfaced last night and he saved me from making a massive fool of myself."

    "Uh-huh. Whatever you wanna tell yourself." She said with a giggle. "Well, you want to meet up and I can give you back your key?"

    "That'd be good, but I only have my dress from last night. Could you bring me --"

Joe waved a hand in front of your face and shook his head from side to side. He held up his pointer finger and walked to his open suitcase overflowing with wrinkled garments. He pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants and raised his eyebrows.

    "Uh yeah, never mind. I'll just borrow something of Joe's. Could you meet me at my room?"

    "Yeah, see you there in what, like 10?"

    "Yup. Sure." You peeled the phone from your ear and set it on the black marble counter in the bathroom. Joe was already standing in front of you, arm out, holding the sweatpants. 

You grasped the elastic waist with your thumbs and allowed each leg to fully slide through until your foot had exited the elastic on the opposite end. You grabbed your phone and allowed it to fall into the pocket, making the hem of the pants slightly sag on that side.

Joe was still leaning against the door, with arms folded over each other this time. 

    "So, I feel like we probably need to talk." He took a step toward you. "Can I take you out for brunch maybe? What else have you got going on today?"

    "Um yeah. Yeah. That'd be good actually. I - " You let out a sigh. "I kinda feel like things are awkward right now." Your eyes wandered the room, looking anywhere but Joe's eyes, until finally you were caught and simply couldn't peel away from them. "And I don't want them to be."

    "Absolutely, and neither do I." He gathered your dress and draped it over the crook of his arm, and held the back straps of your shoes wrung around each of his two fingers. "Meet me in an hour in the lobby?"

You grabbed the shoes and dress, aligning them in the same fashion he'd done but on your own body. You nodded your head, as your lips curved into a smile. 

    "See you then." Joe slowly opened the door, allowing you to slip through. 

[jmagnabo92]

Midnight Munchies

@prongsfootbingo

My first piece for bingo! WOOHOO!

***

When James can't sleep, he convinces Sirius to take a trip down to the kitchens.

AO3

***

Despite the fact that both James and Sirius don’t need to study and aren’t nearly as stressed with regards to N.E.W.T.s that everyone else is, they’re still up in the middle of the night unable to sleep.  James isn’t sure why, but as he sees Sirius toss and turn, too, he decides to get his attention.

“Hey, Padfoot, you awake?”

Sirius hums.  “Clearly.”

“Wanna go for an adventure?” James asks, thinking that maybe they could go for a run as Padfoot and Prongs or at least down to the kitchens.  There’s no one other than his boyfriend that he’d rather be with when he can’t sleep.

Sirius rolls to his side and props himself up on one elbow.  “And where would this adventure be?”

“Down to the kitchens?” James suggests.  “Midnight snack?”

Sirius grins.  “I could go for a midnight snack.”

“Then, let’s go.”

James doesn’t bother with changing out of pajamas, instead moving to get the invisibility cloak and Marauder’s Map, and is at the door in seconds.  

“Eager, are we?” Sirius teases.  “Not even going to change?”

“Not when the only person that’s going to see me is my boyfriend.”

“The house-elves will see you.”

James pouts.  “It’s just unnecessary.”  

Sirius laughs, so James pulls on his hand and leads him out of the dorm.  

James loves any excuse to hold his hand now that they’re together and as he throws the cloak over them, he’s even more excited to be close together.  He smells like the forest, which confuses James greatly since they literally enjoyed the Prefect’s bathroom earlier before Remus came in and complained that just because James is Head Boy does not mean Sirius should gain access to the Prefect’s bath.  James had told him to stuff it, since he’s literally been sharing the passcode since he became captain of the quidditch team in fifth year.  

Despite the smell, James still loves it, so they quickly make their way down the stairs and out of the common room.  They use the map to dodge professors and perfects (although James – had he been dressed – could easily claim that as Head Boy he could roam all he wants, but he isn’t so he uses any close call as an excuse to press close to Sirius up against a nearby wall, prompting Sirius to kiss him and nearly forget what they were up to.

Hence the reason it takes far longer than it should to make it the painting with a bowl of fruit and easily tickling the pear, allowing them entrance to the kitchens.  It’s always a sight to see all those house-elves and the tables like the Great Hall down in the kitchens. 

He pulls off the cloak, and let's Sirius lead him to the Gryffindor table.  The house-elves are asking how they can help, and James can’t help grinning as Sirius orders their favorite midnight snacks and the house-elves go running.

“I’m going to miss this, you know?” Sirius says, staring after them as they sit across from one another as always.

“The house-elves?” James questions as the food is brought to them nearly instantly.  “Because we have one, remember?  Mum and dad said they’re giving us Missy when we move to the flat.”

Sirius kicks him under the table.  “No, being here – with you.  Our midnight dates in the kitchens.  This place is pretty special, don’t you think?”

“Of course I do,” James states as he begins playing footsie with Sirius.  “It’s the only place we can date that doesn’t get jeers and attention from the Slytherins.”

“Or being annoyed by Moony and Wormtail who often forget that we want to be alone sometimes,” Sirius offers.

“Or Evans or some other prefect interrupting just because they have ‘questions’ that can totally wait until the prefect’s meetings?” James adds.  He’s always been a little annoyed that their attempts to date within the castle or even Hogsmeade are often interrupted.  

“Exactly,” Sirius states.  “Our trips to the kitchens are the only way for us to date.”

James smiles as he reaches across the table and grabs his hand.  “At least we can plan normal dates after school ends.  Dates where we can just be together… no one to interrupt.”

Sirius grins.  “That sounds delightful.  Still, that doesn’t mean I won’t be a little nostalgic for our midnight dates here in the kitchens.  I mean – not just our regular dates, but our first kiss happened here, James.”

James flushes, he remembers.  

They’d been riding the high of James’ first quidditch cup win as Captain in fifth year and he’d been pining hard for Sirius, but utterly convinced Sirius wouldn’t go for him – they both had expectations – but he realized that he should’ve known better.  As they sat there, just as they do now, enjoying their favorite midnight snacks, James let slip that there was only one thing that could’ve made that night more utterly perfect… a kiss from Sirius.

He hadn’t meant to say it, he’d just been thinking about it, wanting it for so long, and hating that he was pretending to be interested in some bird (he chose Evans because she would never give him a chance) and he just… let it out.

Sirius had been utterly surprised, especially when James had made a point of following up that declaration with kissing Sirius passionately.  The house-elves even cheered, and James had been terrified about Sirius’ reaction until Sirius had kissed him the second time and it took… well, a while to finally break apart and explain.  

“Yes, well, one of us just couldn’t handle pining anymore,” James offers.  “I was never very good at keeping my feelings to myself.”

Sirius grins, “Lucky me.”

He leans across the table and gives him a kiss. 

“The only problem is that now our anniversaries after this year can’t be held down here.”

“Well, that’s just not true,” James teases.  “Because we could totally sneak in every year just to celebrate.”

Sirius laughs.  “Or we become professors and cause real chaos.”

“Sounds like a great plan, Padfoot.  The Professors Potters – Hogwarts’ worst nightmare,” James agrees.  He’s grinning like an idiot.  He loves it. 

“Agreed!” Sirius replies, cheerfully.  “We should go to Dumbledore right now and start the take-over!”

“Yes!” James cheers.  “We’d be kick-arse professors.”

“Hell yeah, we would!”

They cheer and kiss and finish their midnight snacks with stories about what they would do as professors with a promise of a long future together until the house-elves tell them it’s time to get back as they prepare for breakfast.

Their trip to the kitchens is over for now, but James is sure that there would be more in the future.

***

Thirteen years later, James happily leads a half-asleep Sirius down to the Hogwarts’ kitchens.  It’s their fifteen-year anniversary and despite being ‘responsible professors and fathers’, James is sneaking him to the kitchens to celebrate. 

He’s gotten the house-elves on board for their favorite couple, and he’s so happy and hopelessly romantic.  

He tickles the pear just as Sirius suddenly realizes where they are.  “Oh, Jay, always the hopeless romantic.”

“And you love it,” James retorts.

Sirius smiles.  “I definitely do.”

“Good,” James states and hands him a glass of champagne.  “Here’s to fifteen amazing years together.”

“Cheers to that,” Sirius says, chinking his glass against James’ glass.  “Happy Anniversary, Love.”

“Happy Anniversary.”

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 22: Banking Embers

Okay, so I was so busy patting myself on the back for getting a chapter up that I totally missed that it was the wrong chapter. Insert me smacking myself in the face when @baelpenrose pointed out.

Thankfully everything still applies: a good mix of fluff and machinations, and very much more co-written than beta read. Whew!

When Rome's in ruins

We are the lions

Free of the coliseums

In poisoned places

We are anti-venom

We're the beginning of the end

Tonight

The foxes hunt the hounds

It's all over now

Before it has begun

And we've already won

Fall Out Boy, “Young Volcanoes

Lash

Nils eventually came out of the master suite, carrying a bottle and sniffing it suspiciously. “This isn’t mine.”

I rolled my eyes and held out my hand. “White boy hair oil and brown girl hair don’t necessarily work well together. Thank you, I’ll stick it in my bag. Sorry.”

He snatched it back. “Nope. I like it, it’s staying here. In case you need another shower. Only practical. I’ll buy you another bottle on the way to take you home.” 

I smothered a smile as he padded barefoot back to the bathroom, returning seconds later to take his position on the far end of the couch - at some point, we had established ‘our’ seats, although I couldn’t pinpoint when. But his was on the left, mine was on the right. Everywhere. I shook myself out of my thoughts. “Food is ordered - hope saag paneer and double extra garlic naan is okay. I still can’t stomach the idea of meat at the moment.”

“Sounds perfect.” He leaned back in the couch. “So, what was so nuts about my idea that it beats…whatever movie we were going to watch?” 

“I didn’t say it was nuts, I said it was interesting,” I pointed out. “But to your point. Firstly, I am constantly caught off guard by how hopeful you can be for someone who is so pessimistic.  I don’t mean that as an insult, by the way.  But, secondly… I think it could work if - and only if - we think in the very long term.  Not scales of weeks, months, or years, but we’re talking generations.  Lifetimes.”

“A sunrise we’ll never see?” His tone was pensive. “Or in the sense that it will be an ongoing project whose endpoint will take several lifetimes beyond our own?” 

“In the sense that it may not even be the best idea if we live to see the sun finish setting,” I responded as gently as possible. “Studies show that sustainable, lasting change - good or bad - is done over time to gain momentum.”

“Which has the singular downside that I don’t know that’s time we have.” Nils said, thinking. “Behold the climate. There are places we can challenge capitalist control, and places we can replace it, fairly rapidly. We didn’t do it with debts, no, but we proved it could be done, that the system was weaker than people thought, and we got away clean. A lot of why rapid change is impossible to sustain is that the system is too load bearing, so our first play has to be to prove that we can take those loads away - which has the advantage of making us look like winners and making the powers-that-be look like conquerable fools. How many revolutions fail before they start simply because people don’t try? Because they think the system is invincible?”

I reached out and squeezed his thumb affectionately. “Hey, I agree. Keep in mind, I’m not beating the ‘Go Vote’ drum as the be-all-end-all, here.  We can definitely pull away those theoretically load bearing systems, one at a time, provided we are smart about what they are supposed to be propping up and how much we care if those loads crumble. Case in point, the debt heist we just did.”

The familiar, laughing-at-a-far-away-joke smile played about his lips as he looked at me, eyes focused entirely in the moment. “That’s why we’re partners. Never would have worked as well without you. I wouldn’t be trying this without you.” He reached out and gently squeezed my hand. “We can pick our targets carefully, but at some point we’re going to inspire copycats - and those people should have some means of finding us, so that we can guide them a bit, so they don’t fuck it up.” 

I shook my hair out, thinking.  Reaching back, I started twisting it, looking around and finding a pen to shove through it and keep it balanced. “We honestly aren’t all that sneaky, outside of the fact that we are very openly doing this under online personas that are very much hard to trace back to real people.  But I agree, we need something like a council - proxy real people who copy cats can reach out to when we are asleep or busy.  Like… Bishop, for sure. Weasel is out. Bryce may actually be a good option, though.”

Nils shook his head. “He wasn’t reliable to not steal from you and finish the job. He’ll roll over on us for any reward money in a heartbeat.” 

I pointed at him and winked. “Exactly. Bryce is motivated by money, pure, plain, and simple. We know what to watch out for, and we know how to hack him. Weasel… we can’t pay him in enough of his preferred currency to keep him from turning in half a breath. But Bryce?  Has a gambling addiction, a few hundred thousand in student loans, and parents who are always a hair away from cutting him off. If we can redirect some ill-gotten billionaire funds to keep him from getting killed by loan sharks, he’ll be loyal.”

“Point the first: We just torched a huge swathe of student debt, that was literally my original goal. Gambling addiction though, that’s interesting.” I thought about it. “My issue is that if the FBI offers enough he may take a bigger payday from them. Consider it for now, not a hard no. I like Bishop though. And we’re going to want someone to manage the psychopaths a little more directly, ideally someone who understands…frankly, weapons, tactics, and ideally isn’t a racist psychopath I have to string along with mind games.”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” I suggested, just as the food arrived. “Am I safe to grab that, or should you?”

“I’ll get it.” He got up and headed down to go grab the food at the door. When he got back, he set the food down on the table and set out a plate in front of each of us. “Good call, this stuff smells amazing.”

I smiled. “Thank yew, thank yew. I could eat this every day, mass murder notwithstanding.” I started scooping rice and curry onto my plate before continuing. “So. Yes, we need a council, persons beyond Bishop to be determined. But we also need a figurehead.” With my fork, I pointed at my face vaguely. “Clearly not the person to visibly converse with racists, which are our primary market currently.” I started swirling the tines in his general direction. “However, you? Mr. Rich Boy Who Hates the Rich? Perfect.”

“We have to network with people who will look at my…everything…and know we’re bullshit, though. Ideally, we may want to have two different figureheads, for interacting with different crowds. You for our actual side of things, me for the rowdy and violent crowd? Bear in mind, we’re gonna need actual activists to set up the community shit to take advantage of whatever we do with our pawns.” 

“Activists don’t care what you look like,” I agreed before shoving a chunk of spinach covered cheese in my face and chewing thoughtfully. “But yeah, I can organize the actuals on the back end while you rally the minions in the front.   Right now, front work is going to be our focus.  Did the dead guys have life insurance? Families?”

“Based on chatter? One did. It came up alot.” His tone was unconcerned as he heaped his plate. “Are we thinking hitting life insurance next? For that matter, are we reaching out for a mutual edge? Get payouts for the victims of the fire and the widows and orphans of our retribution? An easy way to reunite “our” forces and get them refocused on the real enemy.” 

I waffled my hand while I chewed on naan. Swallowing I managed to get out, “Kind of both? Don’t get me wrong, if we just wiped out their mortgage and they still bombed the cafe? We can pro-rate that insurance, I know the math.  But also.” I started gesturing with my fork again. “Did you know that, in the absence of a clear beneficiary, most life insurance defaults to the state after three to ten years?  Waste of funds, plus the interest goes to the state, regardless. It’s gross.”

“That is uniquely disgusting,” he said, before shoving a large hunk of naam into his mouth. “Or, I’d say so if I hadn’t heard about. Other theft the state likes doing. But that’s directly addressable, right now.” 

I nodded enthusiastically. “So, you’re picking up what I’m putting down: unclaimed and excessive life insurance. Reroute that shit.”

“Sounds perfectly agreeable to me. To the poor, or to the recently widowed and orphaned of the country? I think both would be…pretty funny.” 

“Tired, poor, and huddled masses,” I toasted with a chunk of naan, rice, and curry. “Fuck the yearning, let’s make them free. Food banks, medical debts - until we can wipe those out - Hey.” I set my food down for a second. “Funnel the funds into a medical debt jubilee? Would that work better, or would another hack work better? We need an accountant or insurance adjuster on staff, I think.”  At this point, I was rambling, but in the groove and happy for once in the last several years.

“Second hack. We drop that kind of cash into the people who are real experts in making it matter the most, they’re legally required to find out who it comes from and how. We’re better off intercepting the shit they can’t buy yet.” Nils was grinning. “We can find an accountant though. Gotta be a way to start dumping money into this machine.” He blushed a bit. “I love seeing you smile again, Lash. For real, not just for cover.” 

I complied with a genuinely enthusiastic, sunny grin, spinach in teeth be damned. “I still think we need a risk-reward specialist on board,” I pointed out. “Keep in mind, we don’t need a licensed adjuster, just a trained one. Think of all the people who get educated in prison and can’t get employed. We can cultivate one, cherry pick.” At this point I was screaming high on endorphins and realized I sounded silly. “Or just… I dunno. Pay one who is willing to take the pay over the ethics. You might be right.”

“You didn’t even wait to hear my objections. I was going to say there’s no one trained for this, because we break that scale at both ends.” He was laughing too. “Then again as we get this council together, we’re probably going to run into that problem a lot if we go as far as we could.” 

I glanced around while I thought, and spotted a surprisingly dusty chess set.  Carefully, I brought it over to the table, set it down, scooted our food over, and sat on the floor. “So here,” I I picked up a king out of the box - it happened to be a white piece, but whatever, it was the first one I saw - “This is basically you.” I set it in place. “You think incredibly well in short term but you put your neck out without caring about the consequences, yes?”

He picked up the black king. “I don’t hate your analysis. But this is the side we’re playing. The system’s had at least one move on us a long time. We’re just moving back to react to the world we’re living in and trying to win anyway. Also, you know you’re setting me up as the piece we can’t win without - that the game ends if they manage to kill me.” He sounded oddly anxious about that concept.

I nodded and fished out the corresponding queen. “In theory, this is me - long term thinking, flexible, but not the figurehead. The movement doesn’t die with me.” Without waiting, I grabbed a bishop. “Obvious. But we need another, so I’m only putting one on the board right now.”  Fully committing to the metaphor, I fished all the pawns out of the box and placed them on the Black side. “These are your pawns. Appropriately, both useful, powerful, and sacrificial.”  To the side, I started setting the rest of the Black pieces. “Here’s what we don’t have.”

“An advisor, two specialists for atypical offense, and two builders to make whatever we want last. Okay.” He took a look. “Not king and queen of much of a court.” He glanced at me. “You were born to be a queen though, even if when we’re done there’s not going to be much in the way of monarchies.” 

I felt my face flush, and turned away so he wouldn’t see it.  Given how many times I had been subjected to similar pickup lines, I mentally scolded myself while I calmed down. Remember all the stupid lines about Nubian queens when you aren’t even from Africa, I asserted. And how many references to Cleopatra left you with a soggy date and an empty cup. “Capitalism, monarchies, whatever,” I managed to get out, “leaders need a council.  I assume you would object if I placed myself as King’s Rook - the one piece that can swap for the King in an assassination attempt in chess - so I accept being Queen. Fair?”

“We didn’t establish that I really bought the model that you’re more expendable than I am to the movement long-term.” He said, obviously thinking about something. “But if I can’t convince you of that, yes, you’re the queen.” 

I grabbed a bite of my now-cold paneer and nodded as I swallowed. “If it helps your conscience at all, these games rarely get far past the Queen being taken, unless you are playing against an absolute master or a total newb.”

He nodded. “Point.” He then proceeded, speaking in a voice somewhere between supervillain and flirting-teasing, with a grin that indicated he had an entirely new thing to tease me with, “So, ‘my queen,’ do you have a particular preference for the rest of our council that we should contact or discuss this evening?”

My face burning, I managed to keep facing him and steadily respond. “Bishop, first. Ask him for suggestions… Beyond him and Weasel, I don’t think we know a lot of the same folks.”  Surrendering, I dropped my forehead into my palm. “And please, for the love of everything, let me sleep on this big, fluffy, gorgeous couch tonight? I don’t want to even think of blaming anything that happens between us, non-professionally, as being due to trauma.”

He snorted. “I was going to be a gentleman and take the couch, let you have the bed, but if you insist on the couch, I’m not going to force you.” 

I started giggling, possibly out of tired delirium. “I flopped on the bed earlier,” I confessed. “It’s hard as a rock, so I will take the couch and suggest you get a softer bed.”

He shrugged, and boxed up what was left of the food. “Ah. Yeah. We can talk about that, if you were coming over here more often. But for tonight, yeah, take the couch. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” 

[cgsf]

Teen Wolf fanfiction recs:

Stiles Stilinski/Peter Hale [Part 2]

"Get the Facts Straight" (E) by Udunie | 6,773 | Derek gave him a withering look. “Don’t reverse Malfoy me, Uncle Peter… And anyway, what if I tell her about this?” What. “About what?” Derek propped his chin up, fluttering his lashes. “Oh, mom! I saw Peter talking to an omega today! He bought him a coffee! He told him all about what a bigshot lawyer he is!” “Oh, shut up,” Peter growled. He hated his family.

"sentire" (T) by snowdarkred | 1,027 | Stiles hears the whisper of death before it strikes.

"reflect" (T) by snowdarkred | 569 | When he dreams, he can sometimes still hear his mother’s voice, explaining it to him: Reflections are the price we pay for what we are.

"nips and nibbles" (T) by Potrix | 3,838 | 5 times people aren't sure if Stiles is telling the truth about how he got turned, plus the 1 time everyone knows he just has to be lying.

"Loan Wolves" (E) by veterization | 117,313 | At seventeen, Stiles' mother dies, and suddenly, with bills piling up, Stiles and his father are in financial straits. Enter Peter Hale, the loan shark.

"a new fun fair" (M) by 1001cranes | 3,997 | Series of ficlets set in alternate universes centered around Peter Hale & Stiles.

"Holding it Together Like a Rubber Band" (E) by sparrow_ink | 979 | During the day, Peter is the Alpha they need. Because at night, Stiles holds him together by letting Peter take him apart. All Stiles wants is to take care of his mate and his pack.

"Right Down to Your Sweetness" (M) by bookwormywriter | 831 | Stiles isn't exactly sure why he came here.

"Transactions" (M) by Llama | 4,046 | Stiles has his own 'superpower', but sometimes he forgets the implications of that.

"Dancing to a Different Tune" (E) by Llama | 985 | Stiles and Peter don't have a relationship, but they do have a lot of beginnings.

"Do not go where I cannot follow" (E) by accounting | 7,148 | With Peter, there was always something behind the sass and biting remarks, but now there’s a pull that’s simply undeniable to something so beautiful and monstrous, a man who could rip him to pieces, but taking him apart with pleasure and pain, one whimper and moan at a time instead. "Yours has a unique scent. I would know it anywhere. Just like your anger, and your fear." he leans forward, his nose just barely touching the sweaty skin beneath Stiles’ jaw, "But you're not afraid right now."

"take me (somewhere we can be alone)" (M) by willowcrowned | 2,730 | A low growl sounds in Peter’s throat, eyes flashing a bright, unnatural blue. Then, because Stiles definitely overdid it on the champagne, it takes another three seconds for him to put that together with the total lack of drunk people and the very careful way everyone is avoiding getting their scent on anyone else. “Oh my god,” Stiles says, the press of Peter’s lips and teeth only a vague footnote in his subconscious as the hysteria takes hold, “I crashed a werewolf wedding.”

"build-a-beau" (E) by veterization | 41,564 | Sick of being nagged about being single, college student Stiles turns to an Internet service that gives him the illusion of having a boyfriend. Said boyfriend is pretty damn interesting, and things basically go downhill from there.

"e-Missary" (M) by DiscontentedWinter | 6,836 | Peter Hale has a tension headache building behind his eyes, a nephew who has picked the wrong time to have a crisis of conscience, and a bound and gagged college freshman in the trunk of his car as he speeds north along Highway 101. This is not how he intended his weekend to go, but Peter is nothing if not adaptable.

"becoming who we are" (E) by DarkIsRising | 5,281 | It’s been days since the funeral. Longer since he’d boarded a plane back to Beacon Hills. Longer still since the call from the hospital had come in looking to talk to Noah Stilinski’s next of kin.

"Hey Lover, I Got a Sugarcane" (E) by pibroch | 17,306 | “Put Peter on the phone,” Stiles says, too sharp to be polite. “What?” Derek sounds completely thrown. “Stiles, I don’t think— Okay, you’re obviously not understanding what’s happening here. Peter isn’t talking. He’s basically just growling at this point, and he’s rounding on anyone that gets too close.”

"No Secrets" (E) by mswhich | 9,935 | Stiles gets hit by a truth spell that makes him want to spill all his darkest, deepest secrets. Derek, knowing how dangerous this can be, hides him away in the loft while he goes to ask Deaton for help. Which is when Peter Hale finds him.

"You're Bacon Me Crazy" (G) by Mysenia | 756 | Stiles + pet pig = a (date) meal with Peter.

"the soft animal of your body" (T) by finnickyfox | 3,694 | “Which one is the ugly duckling?” Stiles smacks his chest. “Of course you’d ask that. It’s not the outside that matters, but the inside.” Peter snorts. “If that’s true, we’re fucked.” Stiles laughs. A few nights later, he sleepily mumbles, “Your insides aren’t so bad, Peter Hale.”

"Get Off (Me)" (E) by KouriArashi | 77,077 | Stiles hates being left behind with Peter while the pack is fighting monsters, because he never knows exactly what Peter will get up to.

"Brutal, Bloody Revenge" (T) by Arvak | 24,306 | Stiles travels back in time in order to save everyone he loves, but accidentally goes a bit too far. Now he's stuck in the body of his 17 year old self with the knowledge of every good and bad thing that will happen in the next ten years. Oh, and Peter is suspicious and far too intelligent for his own good.

"Baring It All" (M) by Arvak | 5,317 | "I'm fine, you know. I don't actually need a baby-sitter," Stiles insisted. To say that interaction with Peter was tedious was a vast understatement. Stiles can't say he doesn't normally enjoy it - it's a nice change from the bland back and forth he has with anyone else. At least Peter keeps things interesting. But it is still Peter; a psychopathic, manipulative, homicidal maniac. His nicknames are Zombiewolf and Creeperwolf and Satan-In-A-V-Neck for a reason!

"Kink Caboodle, Chapter 20" (E) by Triangulum | 241 | He tilts his head to the side, baring his neck. Peter's claws prick against Stiles's side, making him shiver. "Come on, Alpha," Stiles says, voice ragged. "Don't you want everyone to know I'm yours?"

"Kink Caboodle, Chapter 25" (T) by Triangulum | 962 | Stiles is attacked because Peter's attention slips for one second. He's pulling a particularly feral beta off of Derek when the alpha of the rival pack sinks his dirty fangs into Stiles' shoulder, snapping his collarbone. Peter goes ballistic.

"On Body Disposal and Other Crimes" (M) by Triangulum | 1,950 | Stiles sighs, unlocking his phone. It’s 4:00 a.m. and this isn’t a call he wants to make, but between a lot of bad options, this one sucks the least. He presses call and waits for Peter’s grumpy growl. “What do you want?” Peter’s voice is a displeased rumble. "Where's your body dump?" Stiles asks.

"In Case of Emergency, Call..." (T) by aurevell | 9,246 | Peter only finds out he’s Stiles’s emergency contact when the hospital calls.

"That's it, darling." (E) by bonerkiller | 1,184 | The water falling on them has grown cold now, but Stiles can't bring himself to care, not when Peter's own supernatural body heat is keeping him warm. He can feel the tight grip of Peter's fingers digging into his hips as he pins Stiles to the tiled wall, his breath on his wet skin.

"A Curious Magic" (E) by Triangulum | 25,155 | It’s a definite surprise when the wards at the edge of his property trip, the tingling down Stiles' spine telling him it’s a werewolf, the lack of burning sensation letting him know there’s no hostile intent. He’s expecting to see an Ito packmember, even though they nearly always call in advance, and is surprised to see a man that he recognizes as Talia’s brother, Peter.

"until the stars burn out the morning sky" (M) by rospeaks | 2,546 | Derek puts Peter on a probationary period before allowing him to join the pack, and says that he has to check in with Stiles. When Peter fails to check in one too many times, Stiles goes to track him down. “I'm just looking for a guy. Peter, you know. older, arrogant, reeking of smug charm?”

"Centrefold" (M) by gemjam | 1,988 | Stiles started modelling to earn money in college. It was thanks to Peter that he even knew werewolf softcore porn was a thing.

"then i became greedy" (T) by rospeaks | 738 | “Let me guess,” Stiles says teasingly, rising up to his knees, almost hovering over Peter. “If I ever need to blow off some steam again, you’re just one phone call away? I know better.”

"Feel the Tide Turning" (E) by rospeaks | 3,893 | He'd understood, and when the opportunity to run came, he ran. Stiles tries not to feel shame for that, but when he sees Scott waiting for him outside of the baggage claim, he can't quite match him, smile for smile.

••••••

More to be added.

[mercnotfound]

~ I Think I'm Okay ~

Music Producer!Ellie Williams x OC

I Think I’m Okay {Part 2}

Music Producer!Ellie Williams x OC

Word count; 1.994k

[Ellie is a successful music producer who is in a slump, carving her way through a hundred and one different highs to try and find her next hit, until she meets her.]

“So let me get this straight, some random girl almost knocked your door down at 3am because she was hiding from her ex?”

“Yes.” Ellie paused with her glass of water halfway to her mouth, eyes widening, “Hey wait- do you think she was casing my apartment? Did I fall for a fucking casing scam? Jesse, am I an idiot?”

“Nah, no way.” Jesse leaned back in his chair and frowned. “I mean, surely not, right?”

“Listening to you two talk is like trying to watch the first cavemen light a fire.”

Ellie turned and saw Dina grinning from where she stood behind the mic in the recording booth, her voice muffled but still audible while the door was propped open. She raised her middle finger at her, before slamming the glass of water onto the table and rubbing her face with both hands.

“What if I get robbed?” She murmured.

“It’s fine, you’ll be fine.” Jesse patted her shoulder but his voice didn’t sound totally convinced. “Let’s just get to work.”

Ellie nodded and leaned over to push the door to the booth shut, then slipped on her headphones and flicked through the notebook Jesse had handed to her earlier.

“So this is for Stargazer?” She asked.

Jesse hummed, leaning over to point at the page Ellie had landed on.

“Right here, this is where I want to add Dinas vocals. Client said he wants the instrumental to be really thick so I’m hoping this’ll help.”

Ellie nodded and looked back up at Dina, giving her a thumbs up and hitting a couple buttons on the deck. That morning, after fighting her way out of bed in the middle of a come-down and running on an interrupted 4 hours of sleep, she’d opened her phone to see an email from someone who had been waiting on an updated demo, one that Ellie had promised would be sent over that night. To sum it up, the guy had grown sick of her excuses, called her a burnt out one-hit-wonder and vowed to never work with her again amidst a cacophony of colourful language. It had felt like somewhat of a wake-up call, and now she was determined to do something useful today.

By the end of their session, she’d successfully coached Dina through all the recordings they needed and even strung up a chord progression she’d been delaying for weeks; it wasn’t perfect, but definitely a solid start, and Jesses satisfied grin as they walked out the studio almost felt like a hit by itself- almost. 

“Wanna hit a bar? It is a Friday afterall and I feel like we deserve it.” Jesse swung his arm around Dinas shoulders and raised his eyebrows at Ellie, who pretended to mull it over for a second before nodding.

“Sure, why not” Absolutely yes-fucking-please.

They went to their usual place, The Tipsy Bison, where Ellie met Dina for the first time after her and Jesse had just had one of their breakups; Dina had kissed Ellie and Jesse had almost broken her nose - they were 19 at the time.

“God, remember when we turned twenty-one and started using our real IDs here?” Dina laughed, “I mean, Seths face-”

“Fucking priceless.” Ellie added.

“Poor guy actually thought he was insane when the whole bar got in on it and pretended we’d never been there before. Great times man.” Jesse chuckled and strode through the doors, walking straight up to the bar. Dina and Ellie followed, ordering their drinks.

Ellies mouth felt dry, she was craving something, but the alcohol would carry her over for now. She swallowed, her freckled throat bobbing as she raised her glass from the sticky bar and tried to drink it without looking like a madwoman. She glanced around, Dina and Jesses conversation fading into the blur of bar sounds as she eyed a throng of people gathered by the jukebox dancing.

“Y’wanna dance?” She asked Dina.

“Fuck yeah!”

Ellie took Dinas hand and began leading her to the group, releasing it once they got close enough and merging with the crowd. This was where Dina belonged, Ellie had seen it from the first moment she lay eyes on her five years ago, her eyes shut and dark hair swinging as her skin shone with sweat- she was the kind of girl who commanded attention, Ellie had liked that, which is why she’d let Dina kiss her.

“Hey, you’re Ellie Williams, right?” Ellie looked to her right to see a girl standing smiling at her expectantly.

“Yeah, that’s me.” She eyed the girl up and down, smirking a little. “And who’s asking?” She felt a little heat flicker in her gut as the girl went visibly red.

“I-I’m Lorna, I’ve heard your stuff, I’m… a big fan, actually.”

“Oh yeah? How come I’ve never seen you before? You from out of town?”

The girl nodded. “Yep, just visiting some friends at the minute. Your studio is around here, right?”

Ellie whistled lowly, the sound barely audible with the noise around. “You really are a fan, huh?”

The girl blushed harder, the heat intensified. “Yeah, s’a block or so down. You wanna… come see it?”

Ellie was pushing her luck, but hey, she was stressed at the minute, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d brought a girl back to the studio and fucked her on the deck.

“Yes, please.”

***

She waited outside the bar, leaning back against the wall and smoking a cig - the girl said she needed to tell her friends, Ellie told her to be quick. The night air was chilly and fought to get inside her leather jacket, hit the exposed skin under her ripped baggy jeans, to bring her teeth together in a clatter but Ellie sort of liked it, liked feeling human for a moment even as she pulled her jacket tighter around her.

She dropped the cig to the floor and stomped it out with her boot, pausing as she heard a strange sound coming from the alley behind her.

“The fuck?” She muttered, peering around the corner and squinting to see in the dark. She heard another noise, something like muttering, before a sensor-light suddenly flickered on and temporarily blinded her. 

There was a girl slumped against the back wall of the bar, and another girl with her, seemingly trying to pull her away from the wall but didn’t seem to be having much luck.

“Hey, you okay there?” Ellie called out. The more aware looking girl of the two snapped her head towards Ellie and- fuck, that curly hair.

“Shit, I thought you were a guy.” That voice. “Will you help me, please? I need to get her home.”

Ellie swallowed, stepping closer and realising it was exactly who she thought it was, glowing under the flickering orange light.

“It’s you.” Ellie said.

The girl looked up again, frowning at Ellie for a second before seemingly catching on, her mouth falling open into an ‘O’.

“And it’s you. You look different when you’re not half asleep and half-baked.” She smiled, Ellie watched how it creased the sides of her mouth and raised her cheeks into peaches.

“You look different when you’re not breaking into my apartment at 3am.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t break in.” Then she turned back to the other girl, who Ellie could now see had her eyes shut. “Will you help? I called a cab, it should be here soon I just need to get her to the street.”

“Sure.” Ellie swung one of the girls arms over her shoulders and pulled her gently off the wall, grunting a little at the dead weight but supporting her steadily. She ducked under the other arm and took the rest of the weight, struggling a little more than Ellie.

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘girl who woke me up at 3am’” Ellie tried to add some strength to her voice behind the joke, but it came out meek and she felt her face go red.

“Been talking about me?” The other girl grinned. Ellie shrugged.

“I’m Ellie.”

“I’m Rain.” She finally responded after a moment of studying Ellies face, her gaze returning to the floor and allowing Ellie to breathe again.

“S’pretty, I like it.” She muttered.

They walked the half-conscious girl to the path just as her cab pulled up, and managed to manouvre her into it without too much trouble.

“You gonna be okay getting her home, Rain?” Ellie scratched her nose, fighting to keep her gaze on Rains face on the opposite side of the car. 

Rain bit her lip, resting her chin on the roof of the car.

“I really don’t mind.” Ellie added.

“If you’re sure-”

“I’m sure.”

Rain nodded and disappeared into the car. Ellie glanced back at the bar, seeing the girl she’d been talking to emerge from the front doors and look around, trying to spot Ellie. She hesitated, forearm resting on the open car door as she watched the girl frown and pull out her phone.

“Ellie?”

“Yeah,” She replied, matching the other girls frown as she felt something in her stomach pulling her backwards into the car. “Just coming.”

***

“You’re actually the fucking best, thanks Ellie.” 

Ellie grinned, looking down and kicking at the pavement.

“Just doing my civic duty.”

“Well…” Rain sighed, leaning back against the now shut front door to her friends house (where they’d just spent almost twenty minutes trying to get the girl upstairs and in her bed). “What you did the other night wasn’t just your 'civic duty'… I know it was a really weird situation, but you helped, and I’m really grateful, so, thank you.”

Ellie shrugged in response, finally looking up and looking at the other girl straight in the face.

“It’s okay, really, just don’t tell TMZ you caught me with coke on my nose and we’ll call it even.” She smirked, cocking her head to the side.

“TMZ? Are you famous or something?” Rain laughed

“I mean… sorta?” Ellie leaned on the gate opposite Rain, sliding her hands into the pockets. “I’m a music producer.”

Rains eyes widened. “No fucking way? That’s so cool Ellie.”

Ellie grinned, “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” Rain nodded, then checked her phone and sighed. “I should go…” She walked up to Ellie, who stiffened a little at the proximity - she could smell her perfume and it was making her dizzy. “You know the little cafe on West?” Ellie nodded. “I work there, come see me.” Then, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Ellie on the cheek, before pushing the gate open and walking away. Ellie stumbled, then caught the gate before it swang back on her and stood watching Rain leave, frowning at the feeling in her stomach. 

That night, she went home, ignoring the itching on her skin as she walked past the residue from last night on the coffee table and collapsed into bed, eyes tired but fixed on the clock in her room. 3am came, no knock, she didn’t know why she was disappointed. She got back up and went to the fridge, stared into it for a second, shut it, went to sit on the couch and pushed her hand into her boxers, then pulled it back out with a frustrated sigh. Ellie contemplated getting on her knees and licking the white dust off the table with her tongue; she had no shame, she’d done it before, anything to get rid of that itch, but the dust couldn’t talk and to be honest- all she really wanted, for some unknown fucking reason, was Rains voice.

It was gonna be a long-ass night.

[taglist! @gold-dustwomxn @robinismywifee ]

[so-silly]

Rabbit Traps..

a Stolkien one-shot

this is based off an animation made by marjoriestotch

____________________________

During a rather warm summer afternoon, Tolkien and Steve were stepping out of Steve's work truck, grabbing a couple boxes of food they had bought at a local farmers market. When they had gotten inside, Steve set the boxes he had grabbed down, opening the back door to check on his yard while Tolkien put away the fruits and vegetables into their fridge. When Steve started closing the back door, he and Tolkien could hear a faint shaking coming from a chicken wire fence. At that moment, both knew exactly what was going on.

"God damnit, another rabbit dug under the fence." Steve, Tolkien's father, sighed in frustration.

"Have you considered putting up the traps we bought like weeks ago?" Tolkien replied to his dad, looking down at the hole dug under their lazily put in fences.

"I'm not totally sure how to do that. Think you can ask Randy's son Stan to help? I'm sure he or his father knows how."

"I don't think Randy would want to help us."

"But his son would."

"Okay okay, I'll go bother Stan." Tolkien playfully rolled his eyes.

20 minutes later, Tolkien was in a more…barnyard attire, walking towards the farm next door to his dad's. After following the short path towards the neighboring farm, he stepped up towards the door and knocked a couple times, double checking to see if Randy's truck was parked outside. After waiting for a couple of seconds, Tolkien watched as the door slowly creaked open, presenting a Stan Marsh in skull pj pants, no top, and messy hair.

"Oh hey Tolkien. What time is it??" Stan groggily asked.

"Hey Stan! it's like 3 in the afternoon." Tolkien laughed a little, showing Stan his phone screen.

"Oh shit I didn't realize how late it was. Well anyways, come in. I'm gonna get dressed, you can do whatever."

Stan closed the door behind Tolkien, running up the stairs to change. When he came back, he was in some baggy jeans, a 'stone temple pilots' band teeshirt, a grunge flannel, and black converse. Of course wearing his iconic beanie, even though the weather didn't call for a winter hat.

"So why'd you come over?" Stan asked Tolkien who was sitting on the couch playing on his phone with a can of Sprite sitting on a coaster designed to match the coffee table.

"A bunch of rabbits have been breaking into our yard and eating our plants or just digging holes everywhere. Me and my dad have no clue how to set up the traps we got, so I was hoping you could help..?"

"Oh for sure!! Me and my dad have been setting those up around our yard too. That's probably why they moved onto your yard."

"Awesome! Thanks!"

Tolkien got up from the couch, putting his phone in his pocket and grabbing the sprite he yoinked from Randy's mini fridge, following Stan outside of the door.

"Okay, so basically you need to prop this piece of the door up after placing the rabbit treats at the end, what's supposed to happen is the traps hood falls down when they touch the food, triggering the…Tolkien, are you listening?" Stan paused his far too specific instructions.

When he looked up, he saw Tolkien staring straight at him, a bright but small smile. The sun was shining down on his face, eyes, and hair. The view was absolutely beautiful and both Stan and Tolkien had a hot red blush on their faces.

"Uhm oh yeah, I'm, I'm listening."

"Tolkien, I don't want to re-explain what I just said.."

"Then don't."

Tolkien then ducked down towards Stan. Both of them staring at each other for a couple of seconds. Tolkien began to lean in before Stan turned away, unassembling the trap.

"Okay then prove you listened."

"Are you teasing me right now?" Tolkien dramatically gasped.

"Hypothetically."

"Stop using big words, Stan."

"Make me."

Tolkien turned to the same angle Stan was facing and began to kiss him. Their lips moving rhythmically with each other. Their kiss had lasted at least a minute before Tolkien broke it to breathe. The two once again smiled at each other, Stan looking way more flustered than he had before. Tolkien, on the other hand, giving a more confident and smirky look.

Panicked and nervous, Stan turned back towards the traps, and began fumbling with it, tripping over his own fingers.

"Okay, stop getting distracted. We need to get this done before my dad gets home and flips his shit because I'm hanging out with you."

"Haha, okay then. Work now kiss later?" Tolkien grinned.

"Of course." Stan smiled with a toothy ah grin towards Tolkien, bumping his thigh onto Tolkien's and getting back to building the traps.