Text
ReLife Drabble
I have been taken ahold by this prompt from @dat1angel. It has me in its grips currently (and may or may not be distracting me from other things I should be doing) I can't stop think about it.
I will say I have never wrote a full fanfiction by myself, though I have co-wrote and beta'd fic before, so who knows if I will actually finish this, but I have already planned it out to through the fist death loop. So y'all will at least get up until then, even if it's slow coming cause finals season and then I'm going out of country for a bit.
Anyways here's a lil drabble of what I have so far:
“Here we go again.” Jimmy thought disparagingly as he looked around the clearing that everyone was waking up in after suddenly being transported there. He had just been swimming with the cod in his empire when a purple glow began to surround him, causing him to pass out only to wake up in whatever game the Watchers have in store for them this time. Looking around the clearing Jimmy recognized the 13 other faces with him, noticing that the Watchers chose to drag the cast from that time they had soulmates in these games back.
Standing up as everyone else began to orientate themselves as to being in the games once again, a loose circle formed while attention started to turn towards Grian to find out what the catch was this time around. “While we all understand that what happens in these games is ‘no harm, no foul,’ there is still some tension between us from Double Life, even though we’ve had games since then. So They have brought us all back together to ‘fix’ it. I can tell that there is something else They want to achieve, though They are not giving any details. Other than that there is no gimmick this time around, a new world with borders as usual and just normal 3rd Life rules…”
While Grian was explaining the ins and outs of the three life system in case anyone had forgotten, Jimmy’s mind began to wander, thinking about why they were dragged here once more. “The Watchers can claim it’s to ‘fix’ the tension leftover from Double Life, but if that was truly the case, why wasn’t Lizzie here? Or Mumbo? Or Zed? Or really just anyone who was also affected by the relationships that were formed during Double Life even if they weren’t in the games themselves. Most of the tension afterwards came from those that were on the outside not understanding the games and the situations we were put in. And even then, most relationships have come to some agreement or understanding over what happened and the new bonds formed. Barely any tension was still held between players, though in some cases like Mumob, Scar and Grian trust was having to be rebuilt. But overall it doesn’t make much sense to bring just the Double Life players back to ‘fix’ themselves, without any gimmicks. And this secret motive Grian could sense, what could that be-?”
“And with that the game has begun. The grace period is over and any damage taken from this point on can and will result in consequences. Welcome to ReLife.” Grian’s explanation of the game comes to an end, drawing Jimmy back into the conversations around him as people split off to begin gathering resources while the sun is still up. Breaking off from everyone else, Jimmy began to collect some wood, basic tools, and easy food. Looking for a surface cave that hasn’t been claimed yet, he was still caught in thought by what the Watchers want from them. “He’s a champion of the Listeners for Aeor’s sake! He understands Their motives somewhat. Watchers like entertainment and feed off of high emotions, though They like chaos and other negative ones the best. They wouldn’t want the tension from Double Life to be resolved so what could this secret motive be?”
Coming across a small cave opening in a hill he could spot a bit of surface iron and coal. Figuring this is as good as he’s gonna get, seeing as most of the good caves are probably claimed, Jimmy jumps on into the small opening to gather a bit of coal for torches before setting up a spot with furnaces and tackling gearing up. After about fifteen minutes of mining the visible iron without exploring too deep into the cave he figures he’s collected enough iron for a few tools and maybe a piece or armor or two. Turning around he heads back to his furnaces to take a small break while everything begins to smelt. Hearing footsteps approach, he begins to turn around when a voice calls out.
“Hi Jimmy!” Scott’s voice drifts through the cave opening. Fully turning around he sees his husband smiling down at him as Scott continues to mirror the same greeting he gave so many years ago in the first game. “Of all people I find it’s you.” Climbing down to join him in the cave, Jimmy can’t help but smile at his husband’s soft laughter at how they were brought together once again.
“Out of all people I run into first Petal, it’s you. How are you holding up? I haven’t gotten much gear yet, been running across the surface for so long looking for either people or a place to settle first.”
“I’m doing okay. I kind of just wandered off looking for a cave without anyone in it, needing to think, but I’ve found enough iron for some tools and maybe a few pieces of armor. They’re smelting right now, but maybe we can split it?” He saw a soft but concerned look cross Scott’s eyes at his words.
“If you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind having some for a few pieces of gear, maybe a shield? I’m sure we can find more to be enough for both of us if we go deeper into the caves. But Petal, what’s got you stuck in your head so much that you went looking to be alone?” His voice conveyed nothing but concern and care for the other.
“Its just that Secret Life ended not too long ago, it’s too soon to be in the games again. Plus They like our suffering! Find it entertaining! Why do they want us to ‘fix’ our relationship issues after Double Life?” He began pacing, voicing his frustration a little louder as he got worked up. “And this ‘something else’ that Grian could sense. What is it? What secret agenda do They have? With no gimmicks this time around to add onto, it can’t be entertaining enough for Them to actually feed! And with my curse of being first out everytime, I know that I probably won’t be around long enough to get answers.” Towards the end of his rant, the frustration in his voice turned to tears as Scott came up to hug him.
“While I don’t have answers for you Petal, you’re not cursed. You have bad luck Jimmy and sometimes these guys don’t make it easy for you.” Reaching into his inventory, Scott pulled out a very familiar flower, “With the circumstances being so familiar as all those years ago, I promise that this time I won’t become a widow and you will make it to the end. That is if you’ll marry me again, Love?” Scott asked, breaking the hug and extending the poppy in his hands towards Jimmy.
#i hope this is okay!#i hope you like it#this is seriously my first time solo creative writing#so im a little nervous#but this prompt has taken over my brain#the brainrot is brainrotting#life series#trafficblr#traffic light smp#jimmy solidarity#smajor1995#flower husbands#fanfic#fanfiction
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
So it has reached that time of year again: Camp NaNoWriMo time! I was doing so good with my requests before that I decided I wanted to do a little more than I would during an off-month, so I set it at 30k words for the month, 1000 words a day. That’s fully doable for me normally... Then the writer’s block hit, myeh.
As a result, I’m going to double down with Inscryption videos and my own playthrough to get my brain aligned over the next few days. So what I expect from some of you out there to do is to start adding in suggestions and prompts for me to hopefully write in April. I’m not sure how I’ll structure this, whether I’ll make each request 1k words or if I’ll do two requests a day at 500 each? I dunno.
Point is, I want material to write- it can be anything! Stories, headcanons, ask me about my other fandoms... Maybe I’ll even bust out a prompt list as well! Here’s hoping, am I right?
#my ramblings#I like the idea of pulling out my dialogue prompt list I made ages ago#That might work#RE has taken over my brain#I'm trying to take it back but it's hard
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I apparently can't listen to music anymore, without making it about steddie somehow😅
I'm picturing Steve had a fight with his parents again. He goes to a bar/club to forget about it. Finds Robin and Nancy there dancing, Jonathan shows up with his friend Argyle, who brought along his friend Eddie. It's basically love at first sight. Steddie end up dancing (to Abba😅) all night, sharing a kiss. Then it's last call, and Eddie says he called a cab. Steve says he's glad they had this night and wishes they had more time together. And maybe Eddie invites him back to his place, and then they live happily ever after❤️
Yeah...this is my brain now. It's fine really😅
If anybody want to like use this, take it, make it yours. Just please tag me if you do🙏🙏🙏Maybe I'll finally get this song out of my head🤪
#fic request#eddie munson#steddie#steddie prompt#steve harrington#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie brainrot#songfic#stranger things#steddie has taken over my brain#it's bad#dont send help#Spotify#i just found out you can upload songs here#don't come for me
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
17+ content, blank blogs dnf
rough sex, prone bone, doggy style, choking, hair pulling, light belly bulge mention, pussy eating (as always), he’s a meanie i fear, ak!jason on the brain
mmm jason 'don't run from this dick' todd... he's got you drooling in the sheets and weakly clawing at them to tug away, just for him to shift his angle and get even deeper inside you when he pulls you back. each flinch away from him prompts a deeper thrust, constantly leaning his built upper body over you and forcing your hips to fall. the grip he has is bruising and he’s using his weight to hold you down, cooing into your ear with condescension as he informs you- I can only hold this ass up for so long, princess. all while jason’s fucking your whole body into the mattress after your pathetic attempts to pull away falter, a rough palm bigger than your fucking head squishing your face into the sheets as spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth in ecstasy. useless slurs of words prompt him to pull your head back, fingers tangled in your hair and wrenching your neck to make you look at him with teary eyes as he tells you to try again.
or maybe you're reaching your hand back to rest on his pelvis while you're whining for him to be gentle, just to get a reminder of his overwhelming strength when he folds your arms against your back and forces you into a deeper arch. you’ve gotten all brave, actively trying to push him off of you- stupidly, even. the fuck do you think you’re doing-? he laughs cruelly at you, and it takes nothing for jason to snake his hand around your neck, fingers straining your throat as he pulls you flush against his broad chest and abs. the sudden breath that’s taken away has you all lightheaded and limited to short pants, leaving you to weakly cling to the same hand on your throat. your gaze falls upon your lower tummy and not only do you feel him, you can fucking see him splitting you open- how deep inside your belly he gets with each thrust.
and just throwing this in there; he's got you trying to get away from his mouth too. legs shaking as he rudely sucks on your clit and you've got the nerve to pull on his hair and urge him away. it takes little to no time for him to pin your hands against your lower tummy while his free hand is forcing your thighs to wrap around his head. he’s softer with you when he’s not pounding you until your weeping cunt is all puffy and sore, though; fat tongue lapping at your hole and groaning as more slick settles on his lips, hooked nose nudging the sensitive bundle of nerves and making you see stars. still creamin’ all over my face, jason grumbles against your core, ‘m not fuckin’ you hard enough, huh? and at this point, you can’t recall if your desperate squirming turns him on more or pisses him off- even when considering the harsh slaps against your thigh and ravenous groans into your cunt. ❧
#this alludes to ak!jason but it’s not him#think of him but like… not as much trauma#kali ;; jt#kali ;; wet dreamz#jason todd smut#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#red hood smut#red hood x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd imagine#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x you#black!reader#dc x black!reader#jason todd x black!reader
6K notes
·
View notes
Note
You send him a text "Thanks for the flowers, babe" attached with a photo of a bouquet as a prank. Obvs, he gets jealous/possessive.
Anon, I love this. I cackled the first time I read it, and I've been wanting to get to it for a while. There are so many requests (and I will get to them all), but with my health being shit, I'm trying to select from the pool where I'm not overworking my brain or stressing myself out trying to come up with something. This prompt came very naturally to me.
These are all spicy. Period. I didn't hold back with this one. Maybe I'm ovulating or some shit but I literally couldn't write anything but smut for this prompt. I had a lot of fun with this one, and I hope you enjoy.
Task Force 141 x Female Reader
Content & Warnings: swearing, dirty talk, praise, spanking, oral sex (female & male receiving), face fucking, restraints, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, jealousy, possessive behavior, orgasm control
Word Count: 4.4k
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it, attention stuck on Price who stands in front of a large map of Europe.
There are pictures—some have a red “X” through them while a couple others have black question marks. The mission isn’t done, but that isn’t surprising. This has taken months to complete. It’s been slow, and entirely too complicated for Simon’s liking.
His phone buzzes again, the vibration pulling his attention away.
When the third buzz comes in, his agitation turns to worry. Simon never allows messages to come through at work unless it’s from very specific people. To have three come through in less than two minutes stirs something in his gut.
Price starts talking again but Simon’s brain is melting. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Keeping it next to his thigh, Simon awakens the screen.
Your name is there and 3 new messages.
Simon glances up, but no one is looking at him. Silently, he unlocks the phone and clicks over to his messages, tapping on your name.
At first, Simon doesn’t understand. His brain short-circuits, and then unbridled jealousy comes roaring forward.
The first message is a photo of a beautiful bouquet sitting on the kitchen island. It’s fucking large, taking up most of the space. The flowers are different shades of pink, yellow, and orange. It looks like spring.
Beneath the picture are two texts.
Thanks for the flowers!!
I love you!
But Simon did not get you flowers. He didn’t order these, and he certainly didn’t have them delivered to the flat.
Fuck. What the actual fuck.
Someone else did this.
Simon’s first thought is that Johnny did it to prank him. But Johnny has been a bit subdued today, and his attention isn’t on Simon at all.
No. It’s likely not him.
Simon locks his phone and stews. He can’t just leave this meeting. It’s important, but he’s going to get to the fucking bottom of it.
By the time Price dismisses them, Simon is already out the door, charging toward his locker to grab his stuff. It usually takes him a half hour to arrive home, but today he does it in twenty. When Simon bursts through the front door, he’s ready to toss those flowers right off the balcony.
But then he sees your face—how happy you are—and Simon melts. You throw yourself into his arms, and Simon instinctually responds, embracing you tightly. He presses his face into your hair and inhales.
“Missed you,” you say, grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him. “Thank you for the flowers.”
I didn’t get you any flowers.
Simon smiles because it’s all he can manage. That jealousy from earlier starts to curl back up, twisting around in his ribcage.
“Did you like the note?”
You frown. “What note?”
The way you ask is…odd. It’s far too innocent in the presentation. Simon knows your cues and this seems forced to him. But the sender didn’t leave a message. That doesn’t give Simon much to go on if he’s going to track down who sent them.
“Maybe they forgot,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “Show them to me.”
With a bright smile, you take his hand, guiding him into the kitchen. They’re much more stunning in person and Simon momentarily freezes. Did he forget your birthday? An anniversary? An important event?
Simon recalls nothing for today’s date.
The jealousy rises again but he clamps down on it. Anyone could have sent this, especially a friend of yours or a family member. Doesn’t mean there is someone out there with predatory intentions. And for all Simon knows, you’re having a laugh, riling me up. You’ve done it before.
“They’re lovely,” observes Simon. “Better than the picture.”
Your grin is gorgeous, a thing Simon wants to bottle up. You open your mouth to answer him but the dryer goes off. “Hold on,” you call over your shoulder as you dash away. “Let me change over the loads.”
When you disappear, Simon goes for the bouquet. He quickly checks through every flower and between the stems, even sticks his fingers in the dirt. Simon doesn’t know what the fuck he’s looking for, but he’s grasping for anything.
The only thing of note is the business card which Simon quickly plucks from its holder and tucks into his pocket. Simon steps away from the bouquet when you appear again.
Jealousy is stewing, showing its fangs, curling tighter around Simon’s ribs.
When you reach for him, Simon sweeps you off your feet, planting you on the kitchen island. You giggle, but Simon cuts it off, drawing you to the edge to seize your lips in a fierce kiss.
That jealous viper between his bones tells him to possess you.
Simon’s hands drop to your waist and then your hips. He settles himself between your legs, hands moving down to your bare thighs.
You’re flushed with embarrassment, attempting to hide your face from him, giggling his name as you fist his shirt.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” rasps Simon.
Your lips part and Simon slides his tongue inside. You moan, suck on his tongue, and release him. Simon’s grip on your thighs tightens.
“All day?” you ask softly.
Moving his hands to beneath your thighs, Simon tugs you into his arms and carries you over to the dining room table, but doesn’t place you on top of it. He brings you to your feet, and then his fingers curl around the shorts that are little more than underwear.
“Take these off.”
“Simon—”
“Do it,” he growls, releasing them and bringing his hand back to his side.
Slowly, you do as he says. You bring them up so that Simon can see them before tossing them to the side. That viper in him hisses, the venom leaking into his system.
Simon slides his hand between your thighs. You lean back against the table, hands resting on the edge as you part your legs. What his fingers find only makes him groan.
Withdrawing, Simon licks his fingers clean. “Turn around. Bend over the table. Show me what I want.” With a smirk on your lips, you face the table, and bend forward, going up on your toes.
Fuck the flowers and whoever sent them. You’re his.
Simon unbuckles the front of his belt, undoes the zipper of his pants, and frees his aching cock. He needs to be inside you, to hear you say his name, to feel you come around him. He needs to possess because it’s the only thing he can do right now.
Guiding with his hand, Simon rubs the head of his cock through your slickness. You’re already so wet for him—so fucking needy, and he’ll devour it all. Give you exactly what you want while taking something for him.
As he starts to slide in, you whimper. Reaching back, your hand grabs your ass, opening yourself a bit wider for him.
Bloody hell.
Simon doesn’t want to go slow. Using his grip on your hip, he slides all the way in, making you take him to the hilt with one forward thrust of his hips.
Your gasp is choked, and then Simon is lost, pounding into you as if this is the last time he’ll ever fuck you. It’s only your tightness, your breathy moans of pleasure, and the desperate why you say his name. It wraps around him, satiates the viper, calms the rising jealousy until it’s only you Simon can focus on.
Through the haze, Simon finds your clit, plays with it, slows his thrusts until your orgasm arrives, squeezing him so tight he almost finishes right then and there. But once that wave crests and crashes, Simon is back at it. Planting both hands on the table on either side of your waist, Simon stutters out, his lower back tensing, everything draw up.
Simon’s orgasm is an unraveling. All the tension melts as he finishes, and even then, he continues to thrust, pushing his cum deeper inside you. His chest heaves, body shuddering as he draws back a bit. Your breathing is just as labored.
Easing out of your body, Simon admires the bloom of cum at your entrance. He presses it back inside before helping you unbend from the table. Turning you around to face him, Simon claims your mouth in a deep kiss, his grasping the back of your head.
You form to him, and Simon’s hunger flares.
“To bed,” he says, drawing you away with a tug on your hair.
“To sleep?” you ask, smirking.
Maybe you did all this. Planned it all from the beginning.
Naughty girl.
Simon shakes his head. “Not yet.”
He releases you, and then smacks your ass for good measure. Squeaking, you scurry away toward the bedroom. Simon stands there for a moment, composing himself. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws the business card. There is an address and a phone number.
Glancing over his shoulder at the bouquet, Simon comes to a decision. Stalking toward his duffle, Simon secures the business card in a side pocket. He’ll deal with this at work.
Right now, you’re getting undressed.
And Simon is much more interested in that.
Flowers can wait.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
You send the final text and lock your phone, leaving it on the coffee table.
It’s just a little prank. A tease.
Kyle is always a gentleman even when he makes your toes curl and pulls unseemly sounds from between your lips. But riling him up can be just as fun. Kyle isn’t one to be jealous or even possessive of you. He’s certainly protective, and his presence always makes you feel safe, but you’re aching for something else right now.
The flowers weren’t all that expensive. And they are pretty.
Your phone buzzes. You ignore it.
It buzzes again.
When you check the screen, you see two new texts from Kyle. You stare at it, and set it back down. You’re going to let him stew and question. If anything, Kyle might think the flowers innocent.
Tapping your fingers against your knee, impatience stirring in your belly, you stare out the patio door. You need to distract yourself, but the urge to look is too strong. Snatching the phone back up, you glance at the messages.
That’s sweet, love.
But I didn’t get you flowers.
Honesty. This man is terrible at lying or hiding his feelings.
You tap out a reply.
Of course you did! Loved the note you left with it!
Kyle’s reply is instant.
Note?
You nearly cackle at the ceiling and when you hit send.
I want you tonight. You know you can have me whenever lol. No need to send flowers about it.
Within seconds of you hitting send, you phone starts to vibrate. Yelping, you nearly drop the thing. Kyle’s name and a photo of him at the beach pop up on your screen. You stare at it, allowing it to go to voicemail. He calls again immediately.
You launch off the couch, pacing as the phone falls back into voicemail. It’s a bit thrilling knowing that Kyle is likely worked up on the other end.
Answer the phone, comes Kyle’s next text, and then, I’m coming home.
Oh shit.
You are all nervous excitement waiting for him. And when he does come barreling through the door, you’re a bit shocked at the sight of him.
Slowly, he shuts the front door, striding into the kitchen where the bouquet is. He stares at it for a long moment before turning his gaze on you.
“Kyle,” you say brightly, walking toward him.
He holds up a finger and walks past you. You hear the opening and shutting of doors, of drawers being opened, and items moving around. Kyle returns, hands on his hips, concern on his features.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
“I didn’t send you those flowers.”
“Didn’t you?” you reply, innocently, moving toward them.
Kyle shoots forward and begins digging through the stems. “Where is that bloody card?” he mutters.
There is no card. No note. You made it all up.
“Kyle,” you say, but he ignores you.
“Un-fucking-believable,” he says, ripping opening the plastic to see inside.
“Kyle,” you repeat, adding a bit of volume behind your voice.
Again, he ignores you, scattering the flowers across the countertop.
“When I find the fucking wanker that—”
“Kyle!”
He turns, eyes a bit wild. Kyle looks ridiculous, and you suddenly feel terrible. You reach for him, placing both hands on either side of his face. “There’s no note.”
Kyle blinks like he didn’t hear you correctly. “What?”
“There’s no note,” you repeat. “I bought the flo—”
Kyle groans loudly and places his entire hand over your face, muffling the last few words. “Bloody hell, baby girl.” He lightly pushes off, dropping his hand, and stepping back.
You grin sheepishly as Kyle crosses his arms over his chest.
“What was the goal?” he asks, leaning forward a bit.
You shrug your shoulders. “To rile you up?”
Kyle laughs, short and clipped. “Rile me up?”
“Yes,” you say slowly.
He leans in a bit more, a smirk on his face. “And what do you think was going to happen once you riled me up?”
You know that Kyle already knows the answer to this question. But he’s indulging you. As he always does.
“I didn’t think that far,” you reply, but it’s far from the truth.
You wanted to rile him up so that he’d come home and fuck you like a man possessed.
Kyle bites down on his bottom lip and you track the movement. “No, love. You did.” He straightens. “And I know what you want.”
Kyle steps into your space, his head dipping as if to kiss you but pausing just before. “You need a good throat fucking. I need an apology. And then I can give you what you want.”
“Kyle,” you breathe.
“On your knees, love. Present your mouth.”
You obediently drop to your knees, and part your lips.
“Wider,” he almost growls.
You do so just as Kyle reaches down and undoes the front of his belt. He doesn’t even look. Doesn’t flinch. The belt is gone and the front of his pants are open by the time Kyle grabs your face and brings you close.
“Tongue out.”
You do so, and Kyle taps the head of his cock against it before sliding it back and forth over your tongue. His hold shifts, falling to the nape of your neck.
“Take it like a good girl. Got it?”
You nod, and Kyle draws you forward, forcing you to take all of him. Holding you in place for a few seconds, Kyle only eases you back once your gag reflex kicks in. Kyle adjusts his stance, and your hands grasp the sides of his thighs.
Kyle’s hand on the back of your neck tightens as his other hand tangles in your hair. Keeping you in place, he starts to thrust, fucking your mouth like he would your pussy. All you can do is cling to him, to hold on as he grunts above you.
There isn’t any anger there, just a stern brow and a need for control. It’s delicious. Entirely mouth-watering. Your core warms, a slickness blooming, indicating just how much this turns you on.
To bring Kyle toward his end, you make little sounds in your throat. It makes him stutter. It makes him moan. Beneath his pants, you feel the muscles in his legs tighten. And then he’s forcing you down his length, throating him entirely as he comes down your throat.
Breathing through you nose is the only thing holding you together. And when he slides you off, you cough, wiping at your lips.
Kyle’s hand caresses your cheek, drawing your gaze to him. He arches a single eyebrow.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
Reaching out, Kyle draws you up to your feet, bringing you close. His smile is soft, and when he comes in for a kiss, it is consuming.
“Now that you’ve riled me up,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want.”
Kyle pulls away, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip.
“Take off your clothes. Kneel on the bed. And bend over. Got it?”
You nod, and Kyle drops his hand.
“That’s my good girl.”
John "Soap" MacTavish
Johnny’s ears are ringing.
“You better be bloody joking,” he growls at his phone.
On the screen is a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Flowers that you’re thanking him for. Flowers that he didn’t send.
And the card? Bloody fucking hell. That card is going in the shredder. Johnny will tear it apart with his own teeth if he has to. Some fucker had the bright idea to send you flowers like he’s the one you’re dating.
No. Fuck that.
Johnny might be the demolitions expert, but he knows Ghost could dig around for him if he asked. Scratch that. Johnny is asking right fucking now.
“Hey, Lt!” Johnny jogs over to Ghost and turns his phone around. “Can you trace who sent these flowers?”
Ghost’s expression behind the balaclava remains flat. “It’s a fucking photo, Johnny.”
Cursing under his breath, Johnny forwards the image to Ghost. Ghost checks his phone, enlarging the image.
He grunts. “Should be easy.” Ghost glances up from the screen. “Why?”
“Someone making a move on my woman,” replies Johnny, holding back a growl.
“Done,” says Ghost. “Give me a couple hours.”
It doesn’t take Ghost long, and Johnny has to laugh out loud.
“You fucking naughty thing,” mutters Johnny as he unlocks the door to your flat.
When he enters, you’re nearly on your toes, eager for him. It’s cute, but you need to learn first. Sure, the prank is harmless, but you were wanting a rise out of him.
Punishment is needed.
“Johnny,” you say brightly, coming around the counter to greet him.
As you arms reach for him, Johnny removes his belt. Your gaze drops, but he is faster than you. Johnny has the belt around your wrists and secured before you can even protest.
“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.
“Thought I wouldn’t find out?” Johnny tuts. He yanks you forward, bringing the two of you almost face-to-face. “Bought those flowers yourself.”
Johnny tugs on the belt again. You stumble into him and he spins you around. With another quick tug, Johnny has the belt looped onto one of the coat hooks embedded in the wall.
Reaching down, Johnny palms your ass, his lips pressed to your ear. “Got me all jealous at work. Had Ghost stalking the flower shop and everything.” He squeezes, and then smacks your ass. Hard.
You whimper. “Johnny. I’m sorry.”
“No apologies, love.” He kisses your throat. Your skin is soft and he inhales, savoring your scent. You’re freshly showered, and the smell of your shampoo invades his nostrils.
It doesn’t take much to rid you of your underwear. It’s just you in an old shirt and your bare ass on full display. Johnny slides his hands between you clenched thighs.
“Spread them.”
You do so obediently and a primal part of him simmers with pleasure. Johnny slowly drops to his knees behind you. He savors the view, taking his time to enjoy the sight before him. Even from here, Johnny can see how slick you are. How wanton.
He’s going to devour you. Make you beg. Deny you what it is you most want until you’re a fucking mess for him. That’s punishment enough.
Johnny tests by running one finger over your pussy. It comes back glossy. He pops it into his mouth, groaning at your taste.
“Want me to eat this pretty pussy?” asks Johnny, running his finger over you again.
You nod frantically. “Yes. Please.”
That’s a start.
Johnny leans in, the tip of his tongue playing with your entrance. He traces it with his tongue before slipping inside, slowly fucking you with it. It’s not enough, but Johnny knows this. He needs to suck on your clit and give you his fingers to make you come.
But even then, you’ll have to wait.
You’ll have to beg.
Johnny trails upward, swirling his tongue, finding your clit. He teases it. Flicks it back and forth in a steady stroke. You’re already growing wetter. You’re already moaning above him. Too bad you don’t know what’s coming.
Johnny slides one finger inside of you, pumping twice before inserting a second. You’re tight around him. He can feel the stretch.
He works you slowly, lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of your pussy as he teases your clit with his tongue. Above him, your moans come unbroken and loud. It’s sweet. He loves the sound. But Johnny knows your tells, and when your muscles begin to clench and unclench quickly, he ceases all movement.
“What the fuck,” you gasp, glancing down.
Johnny chuckles. “You have to earn it love.”
“Johnny, please,” you beg.
“What’s that, love? Didn’t hear you?”
“Please,” you say, drawing it out.
“Please what?” he prompts.
“I want to come,” you murmur.
Johnny smirks and starts fucking you with his fingers again, but doesn’t put his mouth back on your clit. It’s not enough for you. You’re squirming. Wiggling. Needing more.
“You pull another stunt like this again, love, and this,” Johnny smacks your ass with a sharp thwack, “will be red.”
“I’m sorry, Johnny. Please. Just—please.”
Johnny teases your clit with a quick swipe of his tongue. “Beg some more.”
You do. All sorts of obscene things fall from your lips. When tears form in the corner of your eyes, Johnny finally gives you relief.
He fucks your gorgeous pussy with his fingers. He tastes and teases until you’re crying out, clamping around him as you come undone.
Johnny withdraws. Straightens.
You’re still hanging on the hook.
He frees you from it, but does not remove the belt from around your wrists. Johnny presses you against him with a flat palm upon your stomach.
“Don’t do that again,” he murmurs.
“I won’t.”
Johnny kisses your throat. “To bed.”
You frown, holding up your bound hands. “But the belt.”
“Stays on,” he says, fisting the tangling leather. “Until I’m done with you.”
John Price
John isn’t one for texting.
You’ll send him a barrage of texts only for him to call you hours later asking what you were texting him about.
Which is why you didn’t think this plan would work.
But then it did, and now you’re bent over John’s lap, bare ass in the air.
John told you that he was working late to catch up on paperwork. Whenever that happens, he always gives you a call to check-in and hear your voice. It’s routine at this point. A comfort. Most of the time, he just wants you on the other side, to have you talk about the day or whatever you want while he’s working. John will usually remain silent, listening, basking in your voice.
You planned it perfectly, knowing that he’d check his phone before giving you a call. You sent the photo of the flowers. A beautiful display really. And they were on sale. You also sent him a picture of the makeshift “note” that you made for it. All it said was “thinking of you” with no name. All of that was follow up by a “thank you” and promises to please him later.
John was calm when he called you—almost eerily so. When you thanked him from the flowers, he didn’t reply. He simply pushed past it. The thing is, John saved all of that energy up for when he came home.
Your ass stings. John rubs the spot he just smacked before squeezing.
“Now, love. Tell me the truth.” He says it so sweetly, like it’s such a simple thing.
And you don’t know how much longer you’ll last under this barrage.
“You bought them for me,” you whimper, keeping up the façade.
John shakes his head. “We both know that’s not true.” He squeezes your ass again, the sting burning slightly when he let’s go.
“I’d guess you’re seeing someone else but that would be lie. Wouldn’t it?”
He punctuates this statement by slipping his hand between your thighs, his fingers running over your pussy, parting your slickness. John dips one finger inside and then another, only to retreat and grab your ass cheek with the same hand.
“I know just how to make you wet, love. You have no one else to run to.”
“I told you—Fuck! John!” You jolt in his lap as his palm comes down on your already throbbing cheek.
“Be honest, love. Or you’ll get a few more.”
You swallow down your pride. You wanted him riled up, but you weren’t expecting this. Not for John to come home, strip you down, and bend you over his lap.
“I bought them,” you grumble.
John’s hand eases. “You what?”
“I bought them,” you snap.
“I knew you did.”
Before you have the chance to form a retort, John guides you up and into his lap. He grabs the front of your throat, bringing you close to him. He does not kiss you. He simply hovers.
“You’re going to straddle my lap and bounce on my cock until I fill you up. You understand?”
You nod, and Price let’s go of your throat.
“Get to it,” he purrs.
John is fully clothed, and you’re wearing nothing at all. You undo the clasp of his belt, pull the zipper, and he flexes his hips enough that you can work his pants down a bit. When his hard length is free to you, you straddle him, lining yourself up.
He remains impassive as you start to sink down. The stretch is perfect—as it always is, and you groan as you seat yourself entirely on his cock. Gripping his shoulders, you roll up and back down, rocking when you can to give your legs a break.
John still stays quiet but his gaze is assessing. Slowly, his hand comes around your neck again, and this time he squeezes slightly. It’s not to hurt. It’s to dominate and possess.
“Who do you belong to, love?” he asks.
“You,” you murmur, sinking down on him.
“Say it again,” repeats John.
“I belong to you,” you gasp, coming up and then back down.
“Again,” and this time there’s a growl in his tone.
“I’m yours, John.”
“Fucking right,” he says, crashing his mouth to yours.
The kiss is a claiming, one that shoots through your body and consumes your limbs and control. You shudder, pussy clenching, and then John is fucking up into you, his hands on your hips.
You’re no longer in control. It’s just John, and his need to possess.
taglist:
@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess
@saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67
@tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @ninman82 @lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg
@yawning-grave81 @azkza @haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff
@cod-z @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic
@talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @suhmie
@ash-tarte @eternallyvenus @spookyscaryspoon @vrb8im @enarien
@nishim @lovely-ateez @thewulf @certainlygay @miaraei
@spicyspicyliving @kidd3ath @no-oneelsebutnsu @beebeechaos @lxblm
@jackrabbitem @jaggersinclair @dakotakazansky @daemondoll @keiva1000
#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 imagine#task force 141 smut#task force 141#task force 141 x you#task force 141 fanfiction#task force 141 fic#task force 141 fanfic#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley fanfic#simon ghost riley fanfic#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish fanfiction#captain john price#john soap mactavish#john price#captain john price x reader#gaz smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost smut#ghost smut#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick cod#kyle garrick imagine#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#john price x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
II. The plot twist of admiration <3 (2nd August 2024)
Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
Prompt! The class decides to make a bet with everyone writing down who they think y/n’s admirer is.
first part here!
Every story has two sides to it.
Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to waste time on frivolous matters like romance. He had better things to do, like becoming the number one hero. But there was something about Y/N that made him act differently. Without really understanding why, he found himself wanting to make her smile, to see her happy. So, he started leaving gifts on her desk: flowers, sweets, her favorite drinks.
He watched from a distance, making sure no one noticed him. He didn't need the extra attention or the questions from his classmates. Plus, it was kind of fun seeing them guess who the secret admirer was.
“Maybe it’s Midoriya,” Mina said one day during lunch. Bakugou rolled his eyes. Of course, they'd think it was Deku. “He’s so attentive and always pays attention to what his friends like.”
Bakugou scoffed internally. Deku might be observant, but he wasn’t the one leaving the gifts. Besides, Bakugou knew exactly what Y/N liked because he paid attention, too. He wasn’t just some explosive hothead, no matter what people thought.
“I don’t know,” Tsuyu said thoughtfully. “It could be Kirishima. He seems like a romantic guy.”
Bakugou almost laughed out loud at that. Sure, Kirishima was his best friend, but he wasn’t the one sneaking around. And IcyHot? The guy was about as emotionally expressive as a block of ice. He was also certainly sure the bird brain was too kept to self to like someone.
As days went by, Bakugou continued to leave gifts. He saw Y/N's smile every time she found something new on her desk, and it made his heart swell in a way he didn’t quite understand. One evening, he went to the convenience store to get her favorite drink. When he returned to the dorms, he saw Y/N in the kitchen, looking frustrated.
“What’s got you all worked up?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
“Someone must have taken my favorite drink. I was really looking forward to it.,” she sighed.
He scoffed, pulling the drink out of his plastic bag. “Here. I just bought a few. Don’t make such a fuss.” he said, tossing it to her. Before she could say anything. Bakugou just takes his leave with a huff. “Whatever. I’m outta here.”
When he reached his bedroom, he immediately covered his face. The heat which had rushed to his face earlier swallowed him whole. His heart was pounding.
The next day, he left another gift on her desk. This time, it was a box of her favorite pastries. He'd gone out of his way to get them from a bakery across town. Bakugou watched from a distance, smirking to himself as Y/N smiled.
During lunch, the girls were really pushing their theories about who it could be.
“It’s gotta be someone who’s been paying close attention,” Mina says, thinking maybe too hard. “Maybe it’s still Midoriya?”
“Or Kirishima,” Momo claimed. “What if the other day he said it wasn’t him was an act.”
“Or Todoroki,” Kirishima chuckled heartily. “He’s always so polite and thoughtful.”
“Or maybe Sero,” said Hagakure. “He could be into you, who knows.”
Bakugou couldn't help but roll his eyes again. It was almost laughable how off their guesses were. As Y/N's smile grew wider with each gift, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He wanted to be the one who made her happy, even if he had to do it from the shadows.
While Y/n slowly looks over and locks eyes with Bakugou, he couldn’t help but give her his genuine smile. A smile that was only for her.
Bakugou continued his secret gifting for another week, each time feeling a mix of pride and frustration. One evening, after another exhausting day of training, he was about to head back to his dorm room when he noticed Y/N sitting alone on the couch in the common area, looking contemplative. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach her.
"Hey," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Y/N looked up, her face lighting up with a smile. "Hey, Bakugou."
He sat down next to her, unsure of what to say next. They sat in silence for a few moments before Y/N spoke again.
"You know," she began, her voice soft, "I've been getting these really sweet gifts lately. Flowers, sweets, drinks... It's been really nice."
Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest. He tried to keep his expression neutral. "Yeah? You figure out who it is yet?"
Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Not yet. But I think I have an idea."
Bakugou felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to tell her, to admit that it was him, but the words seemed to stick. Before he could muster up the courage, Y/N turned to him, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"What about you, Bakugou? Have you ever done something like this for someone?"
He snorted, trying to deflect. "What, leave gifts and play secret admirer? Not my style."
Y/N laughed softly. "I didn't think so. But you never know. People can surprise you."
She definitely knows. He gulped internally.
Bakugou swallowed hard, feeling a surge of determination. "Yeah, well... maybe I have a few surprises up my sleeve."
Y/N tilted her head, studying him with an amused expression. "Is that so?"
Her phone began ringing. “Oh, I gotta take this call. Thanks for the chat, Bakugou.” She smiled and walked away.
Before Bakugou could respond, a loud crash came from the kitchen area, followed by Kirishima's voice shouting about a spilled pot.
As she walked away, Bakugou watched her go, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He knew he needed to find the right moment, but it was hard to say when that would be. He stood up, ready to head to his room, when Kirishima came rushing over, a huge grin on his face.
"Dude, guess what!" Kirishima exclaimed. "Everyone's trying to figure out who Y/N's secret admirer is. You gotta see this."
Bakugou rolled his eyes but followed Kirishima back to the Kitchen area, where a group of their classmates were gathered, excitedly discussing their theories.
"I'm telling you, it's got to be Todoroki," Hagakure was saying. "He's always so calm and collected. It fits."
"No way," Kaminari argued. "It's definitely Tokoyami. He's mysterious enough to pull this off."
“What the hell is everyone making a fuss about?” Bakugou grumbled.
“Oh! Hey man, we were just placing bets on who Y/n’s secret admirer could be.” Kaminari casually said. “My bets on Tokoyami.” He proudly claimed. And why exactly was he proud of his assumption?
“Well I think it’s Midoriya!” Mina folded her arms with an angry closed eyed pout.
Momo also chimed in. “I still think that it’s Kirishima and that he’s secretly deceiving us that it isn’t him.” Kirishima who was beside her folded his arms. “Hey! It isn’t me, you’ll lose your money for betting on it!” He, once again defended himself.
“What if it was a girl and we were deceived the entire time.” Jirou randomly put a a finger to her chin, looking up in thought. “Hmm.” She hummed in thought. Right after that, everyone did the same with putting their finger on their chins and humming in thought.
“I know! We should settle this bet by asking everyone to write down on this paper who they think it is. Winner takes all.” Kaminari smugly said, pulling a piece of paper out.
“Oh, you’re on pikachu!” Mina retorted.
Bakugou mentally wanted to facepalm. But then he thought about it. If he were to guess himself then wouldn’t he technically be the winner of the bet?
“Whatever, you losers do what you fucking want.” Bakugou said and walked back to his room. “Hey! Where you going? You need to bet too!” Kaminari exclaimed. “Yeah yeah, just give it to me tomorrow. I need to catch some fucking sleep.” Was the last thing Bakugou said before heading back to his room.
The next morning, the classroom was full with chatter during a break between lessons. Kaminari, ever the instigator, was bouncing around with a piece of paper and a pen.
"Alright, guys, everyone write down who you think Y/N's secret admirer is! Everyone is betting! Winner takes all!" he announced, waving the paper in the air.
Y/n just gave a confused expression before going back to her book.
One by one, the students scribbled down their guesses and passed the paper around. When it finally reached Bakugou, he glanced at the eager faces around him and scowled.
"I'll do it later," he muttered, snatching the paper and shoving it into his bag.
"Aw, come on, Bakugou!" Kaminari protested. "Just write it down real quick!"
Bakugou ignored him, standing up and heading out of the classroom as the bell rang, signaling the end of their break. Kaminari pouted but didn't push further, knowing better than to press Bakugou when he was in a mood.
Later that evening, Bakugou sat in his dorm room, the crumpled piece of paper lying on his desk. He sighed, unfolding it and smoothing it out to see the various guesses scrawled in different handwriting.
He couldn't help but scoff at some of the guesses.
Uraraka: "I bet it's Sero. He’s always pulling pranks but he's got a sweet side."
Todoroki: "Maybe it's Kirishima. He’s very straightforward."
Kirishima: "Nah, it's gotta be Midoriya. He's so considerate."
Midoriya: "My best guess would be Kirishima… He definitely seems like that type of guy."
Yaoyorozu: "I still think it's Kirishima."
Ashido: "I know it’s Midoriya."
Tsu: "I change my mind, I’m placing my bet on Kaminari."
Jirou: "I guess it might be Kaminari. He’s got a fun personality and is always trying to cheer everyone up."
Aoyama: "It could be Iida. Je sais cela!"
Sero: "Maybe it's Shoji. He's very attentive and protective."
Tokoyami: "I assume it might be Todoroki. He's very observant and quiet."
Hagakure: "My bet is still on Todoroki!"
Iida: "I believe it's Kaminari. He’s always energetic and caring."
Shoji: "It might be Iida."
Ojiro: "I think it could be Aoyama. He’s always trying to make everyone feel special."
Koda: "I think it’s Midoriya..."
Mineta: "It's definitely someone unexpected, maybe Jirou. She's got that vibe. And who knows? Girls on girls!"
Sato: "What if it's Mina? She's really unpredictable."
Kaminari: "I still think it's Tokoyami! Imagine that!"
Aizawa: "Bakugou Katsuki."
Even the teacher???
Bakugou paused at Aizawa’s guess, feeling a strange mix of annoyance and satisfaction.
"Idiots," he muttered to himself. "They have no idea."
Aggressively scribbling on the piece of paper, he carelessly folds it.
But as he lay in bed that night, his thoughts drifted to Y/N. He imagined the smile on her face when she received his gifts and how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about them. It gave him a strange sense of accomplishment that none of his training victories ever did.
The next day in class, Kaminari eagerly retrieved the paper from Bakugou and prepared to read the guesses. However, just as he was about to open it, everyone began to question how they would find out who the admirer really was.
"How are we actually gonna figure out who it is?" Midoriya asked, looking around the room.
Suddenly, Mina stood up and yelled, "Whoever the admirer is, you have to come clean now because we've all placed bets already, and I'm sure Y/N is interested."
Silence. Everyone was looking at each other, trying to see if the admirer would step up.
Bakugou gulped, feeling a surge of panic.
Then Hagakure made a suggestion. "Why don't we make it more fun? Y/N should write down on another piece of paper who she wants her admirer to be."
For some reason, Y/N agreed willingly. She took a piece of paper and began to write a name. Bakugou watched her, rethinking his life decisions. If he admitted his feelings now and wasn't the one she wanted, he would never live it down.
Y/N finished writing, folded the paper, and kept it to herself.
“Wait I have an idea!” Tsu said and whispered something into Mina’s ear.
"Alright then," Mina said with determination. "Everyone who is NOT the admirer, sit down."
Slowly, one by one, the students sat down until only Bakugou remained standing with his eyes shut tight.
The room filled with gasps and murmurs of confusion.
"Bakugou?!" Kaminari exclaimed, wide-eyed.
“KACCHAN??” Izuku exclaimed.
"No way," Kirishima muttered, shaking his head. "Bakugou, seriously?"
"I lost my bet!" Sero groaned, throwing his hands up in the air.
"Wait, Bakugou's the secret admirer?" Uraraka asked, her eyes darting between him and Y/N.
Jirou smirked. "Well, this just got interesting."
“I certainly did not expect this..” Momo’s voice sounded.
Some students complained about losing their bets, while others were simply shocked. Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest. After a moment of silence, he heard the sound of a paper unfolding.
More gasps filled the room.
"You can open your eyes, Bakugou," Y/N said softly.
Bakugou's heart sank. What if his name wasn't on the paper?
He opened his eyes and saw Y/N holding the paper.
Bakugou Katsuki
His heart soared when he saw his name written on it. A wave of relief and happiness washed over him as the class erupted in a mix of congratulations and disbelief. He had never been this terrified in his life, but it was all worth it.
“Very unexpected, I must say.” Iida said.
"Well, who would've thought?" Mina laughed, nudging Kirishima.
"Guess we all underestimated Bakugou," Tokoyami said with a rare smile.
"Congrats, man," Kirishima said, patting Bakugou on the back. "Took some real guts."
Bakugou, his face slightly flushed, just nodded, trying to maintain his usual tough demeanor. But inside, he was over the moon.
“Wait! It’s not over! Who won the bet?” Sero yelled, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.
Kaminari hurriedly opens the paper.
Uraraka: "I bet it's Sero. He’s always pulling pranks but he's got a sweet side."
Todoroki: "Maybe it's Kirishima. He’s very straightforward."
Kirishima: "Nah, it's gotta be Midoriya. He's so considerate."
Midoriya: "My best guess would be Kirishima… He definitely seems like that type of guy."
Yaoyorozu: "I still think it's Kirishima."
Ashido: "I know it’s Midoriya."
Tsu: "I change my mind, I’m placing my bet on Kaminari."
Jirou: "I guess it might be Kaminari. He’s got a fun personality and is always trying to cheer everyone up."
Aoyama: "It could be Iida. Je sais cela!"
Sero: "Maybe it's Shoji. He's very attentive and protective."
Tokoyami: "I assume it might be Todoroki. He's very observant and quiet."
Hagakure: "My bet is still on Todoroki!"
Iida: "I believe it's Kaminari. He’s always energetic and caring."
Shoji: "It might be Iida."
Ojiro: "I think it could be Aoyama. He’s always trying to make everyone feel special."
Koda: "I think it’s Midoriya..."
Mineta: "It's definitely someone unexpected, maybe Jirou. She's got that vibe. And who knows? Girls on girls!"
Sato: "What if it's Mina? She's really unpredictable."
Kaminari: "I still think it's Tokoyami! Imagine that!"
Aizawa: "Bakugou Katsuki.”
Bakugou: "Bakugou Katsuki."
“Bakugou won? Isn’t that technically cheating..” Momo said with a concerned look.
“Technically that means I won. Now pay up.” Aizawa said from his sleeping bag.
“Ughhhhhhhhh.”
After the class settled down from the surprising outcome, Bakugou found a moment to approach Y/N. He was still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions from the earlier scene.
"Hey," he started, his voice gruff but softer than usual. "Can we talk?"
Y/N looked up and smiled. "Sure, Bakugou. What's up?"
He led her outside of the classroom, away from the curious gazes of their classmates. The tension between them was palpable, but Bakugou tried to ignore the nervous flutter in his chest.
"So, you actually picked me," he said, struggling to keep his usual confident tone. "Why?"
Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. "Well, I've always noticed you’re not as rough as you seem. There’s a lot more to you that people don't see. I appreciate that you always seemed to care, even if you don’t show it."
Bakugou’s face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d ever actually like me. Not with how everyone talks about me."
Y/N shook her head, a playful smile on her lips. "You’re more than what people say, Bakugou. And I��m glad I got to know that."
Bakugou hesitated for a moment before stepping a bit closer. "So, what now? Now that everyone knows?"
Y/N's smile grew, and she looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "I think we should see where this goes. I’m happy with how things are turning out."
Bakugou’s usual scowl softened into a genuine smile, and he took a deep breath. "Yeah, me too."
They stood there for a moment, the noise of the classroom fading into the background as they enjoyed the rare, peaceful connection between them. It was the start of something new, and for once, Bakugou felt that he might just be ready to embrace it.
#bnha x reader#bnha#bnha fluff#mha#bakugou katuski x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou fluff#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#katsuki x reader#katsuki x y/n
914 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi I’m sorry if your not doing the bakery anymore! But if you are can I please have a nanaimo bar and a tiramisu with a side of bubble tea served by Max Verstappen?
I love your writing so much!
bakery menu
want to suggest your own order? send it now! i am adding more prompts to the list!! i'd love to hear from you! i do really like this, i feel like daddy kink hasn't be suggested enough! also, i think ya'll really like when i write max! which thank you so muuuuuch! i love writing him. i have made him a bit more of a dom than i usually do, i am a sub!max truther lol.
nanaimo bar ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + tiramisu (“my little slut to ruin.”) + bubble tea (daddy kink)
cw: smut/pwp, daddy kink, collars, oral sex (m receiving), dom!max, mean!max, "kitty"!reader, dirty talk
max never really liked to watch highlights or old races. the race itself felt like it was imprinted on his bones, memorized in his muscles. but for a boring sunday night during the off season, he didn't mind a gin & tonic and sitting in front of the couch watching them back to back online.
he wasn't alone. over the last six months he has had such a cute little companion. a little girlfriend. you were stunning, funny and over all sweet. you were perfect and most of the grid adored you. but max felt that if they knew what you two got up to in the off-season, they'd be even more endeared to max's little kitty.
you were a good girl for daddy today, so you got to snuggle with him on the couch. he laid out with you on top of him, your head on his chest as you linked your fingers with him.
"you had such a good day today, kitten." he said quietly as he rubbed your head with his other hand. earlier you had your head in his lap as he drank through two g&ts. but now you two were just cuddled up.
you looked at him and replied with a slight smile, "thank you, daddy." then closed your eyes when he want in for a kiss.
he smiled into the kiss and held your head close to him. bunyou still tasted like the lingering bubblegum of your lip gloss. but that was smeared all over his lips by now.
you were in a red bull t-shirt and panties. the shirt did nothing to cover the swell of your ass from him. he kissed the side of your head and you leaned into his touch.
"who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."
"i am." you said as you looked at him with the sweetest expression, "i'm your pretty girl." you rubbed up against max.
he reached down and groped your ass before he kissed the roundness of your cheek. he could feel himself getting harder in his shorts.
he chuckled, "i ruined you. my little slut to ruin." then kissed your face some more. he loved the feeling of you against him. you really were the prettiest thing he had ever seen.
from the moment he saw you at the pool party. your laughter ran through clear as day, and max knew that he wanted, if not, needed you.
"does daddy need something taken care of?"you asked as you rubbed up against max. you heard his breath hitch in his throat.
"you little tease." he said as he squeezed your hand, "why don't you make yourself useful then?" then rubbed his cock up against your front.
you could never say to no to him, just as much as he couldn't say no to you. you lifted your head and exposed the shiny black leather collar that you wore during your 'fun time' with max.
you slinked off the bed and kneeled then watched him plant his feet on either side of you, giving you a full view of his clothed cock.
"you're nothing without me." he said as he rubbed your cheek, "you're just good for keeping my cock wet, pretty girl." his words burned in your brain and made you core hot. you watched him pull his hard cock out of his pants and you leaned in to give the tip a proper, wet kiss.
he stilled for a moment before his hand was in your hair and guiding your mouth fully onto his impressive size. max could be a mean daddy dom sometimes, talking down to you in a patronizing way.
but, fucking hell did it make you hot all over. it was like being dragged over hot coals. it hurt but it left you yearning for more.
max guided your head up and down his cock and growled, "pretty little slut, i've ruined you for other men, haven't i? guess you can't leave now, stuck with me.' he gripped the hair near the scalp and rolled his hips a little up, nudging his cock further.
your eyes closed but you were met with a firm, but not hard, smack on the cheek. you opened your eyes and looked up at him, mouth still full of cock.
"eyes on me. i'd hate to punish you tonight, you were doing so good." he lightly scolded, he even went as far as to wag his finger in your face like a isolate animal.
you moaned and rubbed your thighs together as you continued to orally pleasure him. his cock was a nice weight in your mouth as you felt the fat tip nudged against the back of your throat.
you took it all in stride, you enjoyed the feeling of his cock in your mouth. he was simply so good in your mouth. if he wasn't bullying your throat, he was bullying your pussy. he was making his kitty moan and paint, occasionally squeal and squirm.
but max kept his kitty on a short leash. (sometimes literally).
he loved the sight of you in a collar and on your knees. your bright eyes shined at him as you continued to suck him off. he continued to move your head up and down.
"you look the best like this." he admitted, "on your knees for your daddy." he chuckled, "if i wasn't so protective over you, maybe i'd invite norris or leclerc over. see what i get every night." he yanked on your hair a little, "but it would take a long for me to watch you suck someone else off. you're meant for me." he said as he tapped your nose.
you nodded obediently, like a good girl and moved your head. the grip on you was tighter and the heat pooled in your gut. you felt spit down your chin and onto your breasts from having your throat nudged at.
max sighed and closed his eyes for a moment as he really let you pleasure him. he could feel the heat in his gut and he started to tense up.
"you feel so good." he said, "you're so good for me. that's it, take all of me." he groaned as he really started to shove his cock into the back of your throat. it choked you a little with each hard thrust.
he cursed under his breath as it really started to light up parts of his brain. he groaned before he pulled his cock out of your mouth easily and jerked it a few times before he came all over your face. spurts of cum landed on your cheeks and down your lip. he almost came twice from the erotic image.
if only his phone were closer, he could have a little something for when he was on the road. but for now he'd have to settle with watching you eagerly wipe the cum off your face and lick your fingers and palm.
you looked at him, breathing heavily. you looked like such a perfect kitten for him. you said to him, "did i do good, daddy?" your tone was so honest, it made his cock twitch.
"of course you did. you're always a good kitty for daddy." he chuckled as he rubbed the top of your head, "you'll always be good enough for me."
he'd eventually get up and get a damp cloth for you to wipe your face. then he'd put you back where you were before and cuddle you up in his arms. safe and sound, like a good kitty.
#bunny writes#the bakery#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen smut#max smut#mv1 x reader#mv33 fic#mv1#mv33 smut#mv33 x reader#mv1 smut#mv1 x you#formula 1 smut#formula one smut#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#f1 smut#f1 rpf#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1
524 notes
·
View notes
Text
Always Bet on Black
Summary: Reader realizes she has an advantage at the Bureau's Casino Night, when Spencer can't seem to take his eyes off her and her dress.
Prompt: The BAU throws a casino night charity fundraiser. Spencer is a menace. Someone has to find a way to distract him.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warning: drinking, gambling (i have never gambled in my life nor have i played poker or blackjack. this will be super apparent in this fic. many apologies), nipple play, oral sex (f!receiving) hickies, Reader POV, unprotected penetrative sex
Word Count: 3.7k
Masterlist
“And that’s another win to the gentleman on my right!” The dealer announces for what feels like the millionth time that night. There's a shit-eating grin on Spencer Reid’s face as he leans over the blackjack table, wrapping his arms around the hearty stack of chips in an almost in an exaggerated manner, pulling it back towards him much to everyone’s dismay.
My dismay, especially, because while- yes, this is for charity, and what Spencer’s doing could be characterized as noble in some roundabout way, it was getting a bit repetitive. Spencer was so focused, a thousand times more than anyone else at that table, his brain working a million miles a minute to provide him with the best course of action when it came to gambling.
And so far? It worked perfectly. While everyone else was taking their chances and betting away, praying that the odds would line up in their favor, Spencer Reid did fucking math, and suddenly the odds were his bitch. I was beginning to understand why every casino in Las Vegas had him banned now. If he was giving the BAU Casino Night a run for their money like this, I can’t imagine the Bellagio being too pleased with having him either.
I sighed at the thought, and it seemed Spencer picked up on it, the corners of his lips turning upwards, trying to feign a chagrin expression as he stacked his chips on top of the other.
“Something wrong, (Y/N)?” He says, looking at me. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”
Spencer Reid is usually nice, humble, and sweet. In all honesty, I should not be feeling this hostile and sore at the fact that he’d managed to beat me almost every single time we’d played blackjack. My embarrassment was only heightened when I thought of how I’d (stupidly) bragged beforehand that I’d never lost a game in college.
How quickly my streak was destroyed.
My pride was bruised, and the man in front of me knew it.
“I’m enjoying myself just fine.” I say, trying not to grit my teeth as I say the words.
“You look a bit hot.” He says, referring to my face that had gotten slightly red after the most recent loss I’d taken. “Would you like me to get you a drink?” He asks, his gaze turning less cocky, and more sweet and polite.
I melt a bit. “Okay. No need to be a sore loser.” I think to myself. “This is a sweet man, and he’s offering you a drink. Yes, he’s destroying you right now and knows it, but it’s not like he’s acting like a complete dick about it.”
I nod at his words, sending a small smile his way.
“A drink would be great actually.” I finally respond, and he gets up, pushing his chair in.
“I’ll be right back.” He says, turning away from me, and sauntering towards the bar.
I take a second to admire him as he walks away, the suit and tie ensemble he picked out for the night complimenting him so well. I’d never say it out loud, considering we were coworkers, but something about seeing him so dapper, so much more.. mature brought out a warm feeling in my stomach, one that made me shift in my seat as I tried to rid myself of thoughts of grabbing him by his tie, placing a hand on his perfectly sculpted jawline, pulling him against me and- no!
He. Is. Your. Colleague. Snap out of it!
In lieu of my wandering thoughts, I’d realized I had actually heated up quite a few degrees and in an attempt to combat the sudden body heat, I shrugged off the shawl I’d been donning for most of the night. I felt the cool air hit my exposed shoulders and chest, and relaxed a bit, starting to feel my temperature lower. Right as I did so, Spencer returned to his seat, holding two drinks.
I turn towards him, still seated. He’s sitting in his seat, facing towards me as well, and I instinctively reach over to grab the drink in his hand, expecting him to meet me halfway and transfer the cup to me. But instead of the expected interaction, he seems a bit dazed, an intense expression on his face as he bored his eyes into me, studying me almost. It’s an expression that causes me to raise my eyebrows at him.
“Spencer?” I say. “Hello?” I wave my hand a bit, trying to break him from his trance. “The drinks?” I add, and that’s what seems to break him out of his preoccupied stupor. He blinks a bit before shaking his head.
“Sorry. Sorry. I spaced out there for a moment.” He says, hastily handing me my glass and turning away completely from me, taking a sip out of his. I can notice a small tremor in his hand as he sets down the liquid on the table, and I’m a bit concerned. He was just fine a moment ago. Did someone say something whilst he was at the bar? Did he choose to ponder some life-changing information as he took his seat at the table? Was he losing it for no reason at all?
Regardless of what it was, I didn’t have the time to contemplate it further or question him about it because the dealer was beginning to shuffle the deck of cards again.
As the next game started, there was something fundamentally different about Spencer. He looked almost panicked, even going as far as to loosen his tie as he played. I thought I’d maybe imagined the changes, until finally, I got a real indicator that something was off. For the first time that whole night- he lost.
My mouth was agape as the dealer announced the house win, and as I looked between him and the table, he didn’t seem all that fazed, simply shrugging as he attempted to get up. Before he could slip away, I grabbed his arm and brought him a bit closer to me, so that I could speak to him over the sounds of the bustling party around us.
“Spencer- wait. Is something wrong?” I ask, the genuine concern in my tone apparent to anyone who might’ve walked by.
“Yeah, no. Um. Why wouldn’t it be?” He says, his eyes everywhere except me. It was almost comical. The ceiling tiles couldn’t be that interesting.
I grip his arm a little harder, urging him to look at me, to talk to me. “You lost! That hasn’t happened all night! Was someone- did something happen? Are you feeling okay?” I ask, my eyes trying to meet his.
He gulps, finally looking at me. “Statistically, card counting can’t actually work every time so I was bound to lose at some point right?” He says, a little shakily, and despite his words making logical sense, the notion that something was wrong didn’t leave me.
“You promise?” I say, looking at him as intensely as I possibly could to ensure he wouldn’t try to evade giving me an honest answer.
He gives his signature, flat smile, nodding. “I’ll be fine. Look. I’m gonna go play some other games. Maybe rack up my luck somewhere else.”
I lick my lips and finally let go of his arm, nodding. “Have fun.” I say, and he gives me a little wave.
“You too.”
For the next hour or so, I found myself dabbling at the other assortment of games offered by the Bureau that night, until yet again, my path crossed with Spencer, who seemed to be on a pretty hefty winning streak- if the stack of chips he’d accumulated wasn’t a clear sign of that already.
I stood by the table, slightly out of his view, a little amazed by the way his eyes followed the deck and everyone’s movements so precisely. The level of focus required to do what he was was absolutely no joke, and I couldn’t help but admire in silent awe at the exactness of the whole process. It only made him that much more attractive in that moment, if that was even possible.
“Royal flush.” He announces, fanning his cards as everyone at the table groans. It’s only then when his gaze meets mine, watching him, and I can observe the signs of a tell-tale blush creeping up his neck. Odd.
“(Y/N)! Hello.” He says, quickly. “Still liking the party?”
“I am, thank you.” I say, my eyebrows slightly furrowing at how oddly he’s behaving. “Mind if I join the next round?” I ask, already starting to take my seat.
“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” He says, clearing his throat and turning his entire body away from me. Spencer and I usually got along just fine. There was nothing ever particularly sour about our relationship, and I’d like to think that in the time I’d spent at the Bureau, our shared experiences had brought us closer. However, the way he was acting as of right now, like we were strangers or mere acquaintances threw me off beyond belief.
It was official, something was off.
I leaned over a little closer, trying to get him to look at me.
“Spencer, I know I’ve already asked but is anything-“ I start, and I can see him glance over, and then almost rapidly turn his gaze away.
“No! Nothing’s wrong. Let’s play.” He rushes out, his words teetering on almost being high pitched.
It didn’t evade me however, in that short microsecond he took to look at me, his gaze dropped partially down. I internally followed his line of sight to realize that my breasts were practically spilling from my dress. I knew that it was a bit showy, but didn’t think much of it when I’d chosen to wear it for this occasion. The event was black-tie, and so I’d fished out a number I’d haphazardly bought during an online shopping spree. It was black and sparkly, but the main caveat of the dress was the gorgeous bodice in the front, managing to give a good show of cleavage whilst pushing up my breasts and making them all that more appealing to anyone who noticed. I began to connect the events of the night, realizing that someone clearly had noticed.
Spencer’s losing streak had coincidentally begun once I’d lost the shawl that was once covering my chest.
An idea slowly entered my head. An experiment, if you will. As we started another game, I barely paid attention as my fingers slid over to what looked like a glass of water on Spencer’s side.
“Spence?” I murmur, tapping his shoulder.
“Mm?” He asks, not even taking a moment to look away from his cards.
“Mind if I take a sip from your water?” I ask, keeping my voice saccharine and innocent.
I can see the look he shoots me, his eyes slightly narrowed in surprise but he quickly looks away. “Yeah, um. Sure. Go ahead.” He responds dismissively, as if talking to me for even a second longer would result in him breaking out in hives.
Totally out of character. For all the closeness in the world, Spencer Reid would never have shared a glass of water.
As I began to sip the water, I did something that could be categorized as deeply stupid, but in the name of my experiment, it was absolutely necessary. I slightly tipped the glass, allowing the cool water to run down my neck and drip onto the swell of my breasts. I made a show of getting up, touching my chest to try and rid myself of the moisture that was now coating my breasts.
“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’ll get you another glass of water.” I say,letting my breasts bounce a bit as I stand up, and when he looks at me, it’s more apparent than ever that his eyes aren’t gracing mine anytime soon. Not when I was like this.
I grinned in secret as I turned around, quickly bringing over a replacement glass to him, leaning over so that if he were to simply turn his head even slightly to his left, he’d get a direct look at what he simply couldn’t seem to take his eyes or mind off tonight.
“Uh. Thanks.” He stammers again, shakily drinking the water as he miserably failed at not looking. Bingo.
When the next round of our game commenced, he lost horrifically, as expected. His mind was in an entirely different dimension, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride, knowing it was me who’d rendered him dumb. So unfocused. So unlike himself. It wasn’t until I felt a tap on my shoulder, noticing Spencer’s hand carrying out the action.
“Walk with me.” He says, simply. His tone was so sharp and commanding, I found myself listening with no hesitation, following as we moved to a more secluded bit of the party.
“What are you doing?” He asks in an accusatory tone, his voice a hushed whisper.
“What do you mean?” I respond, a faux naivete in my words, which he only scoffed at. He leaned in closer, his brows furrowed. I could notice a small vein popping out from his forehead, and the sight only increased the ache I’d begun to feel in my panties since he’d directed me here.
“You know what I mean.” He says, dangerously. “You’re flaunting yourself.” He adds, his jaw tight. “You know what it’s doing to me. You’re enjoying it.” I could tell he wanted to say so much more, the grit in his tone leading me to believe there were some much cruder words he wished to utter to me.
Regardless, the authority in his tone only spurred me to try and resist. It was so hot watching him like this. Maybe a bit fucked up to say that, but it didn’t matter in that moment. I only wanted to test the limits. To see the new man I could bring out in Spencer Reid tonight.
“So what if I am?” I say, biting my lip. “It’s a party, Spencer. We’re all having fun, aren’t we?”
“No.” He responds, darkly. “I’m not having fun.”
A proposal came to mind. One I knew that would pan out deliciously, since I’d now gotten a look into his extensive lust tonight, and just how desperate he seemed. I leaned forward to whisper to him, my lips teasing the outer shell of his ear.
“Win another game, and I’ll show you just how much fun you could be having.”
He immediately pulls back. His eyes narrow, and I can see the weight of my words course through his mind, evaluating the odds of my statement before clicking his tongue.
“See you in 30 minutes.” is his response, as he walks away, beckoning me to follow him to yet another Blackjack table. I grin, sitting beside him.
My presence doesn’t seem to phase Spencer whatsoever this time around, his laser-point focus uninterrupted even as I stared shamelessly at him. It wasn't until the game seemed to be reaching its turning point, in which Spencer had to decide whether drawing or staying would bring forth a better outcome for him. I watched as he mulled over the decision for a few seconds before his eyes locked onto mine, gaze intense.
“Draw.” He voices, not even paying mind as the dealer announced his win.
Spencer gets up without a word, and I can see him head towards a hallway that houses a few restrooms in the building.
“Sir- your winnings!” The dealer calls out, but I smile apologetically, starting to follow Spencer to a more secluded area of the party.
“Sorry. He’s probably a bit preoccupied. I’ll let him know!” I respond, already turning around and making my way to the same hallway Spencer had gone down, finding the bathroom and opening it. I knew Spencer would be there, but what I didn’t expect was to be pulled into his arms, greeted by Spencer’s lips insistently pressing against mine, his free hand clutching the back of my head, as his other hand went to click the lock into place. I responded with a momentary bout of shock, but quickly found myself melting into his touch, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“You like watching me lose, is that it?” He whispers harshly, in between kisses. I can feel the anger, the lust and passion, all rolling into one as his lips meet mine, over and over again, creating the sweetest of sensations that wracked my whole body.
“Mm. Not just you losing. You losing because you’re distracted. Because of me.” I say, my tone a bit dazed and breathy from the intensity he was putting me through.
“Can you blame me?” He murmurs, his lips now trailing down my neck, paying close mind to a particular spot on the side that left my knees weak. “You wear this dress and expect me to not take my eyes off of you?”
His hot breath grazes over my skin and I can feel myself shiver. I’m completely overwhelmed by him. The feel of his hands caressing the small of my back and waist, his smell of his cologne wafting around me. I can only breathe unsteadily, and hold onto him, a needy whimper slipping past my lips.
“Shh. You’re okay. I got you.” He murmurs. His tone was sweet, soothing, but his actions were anything but, as his fingers slipped around to find the zipper on my dress.
In an instant, his mouth was finally all over my breasts, his mouth leaving a few marks on the expanse of my chest before his tongue began to sweep over my nipples, swirling around the raised bud, leaving me grappling to his shoulders, as more moans poured out from within me.
“You like that?” He breathes against my skin, and I nod, frantically. I’d never expected to go this weak, but he was so much more skilled with his mouth than I’d ever expected.
“Please. Keep going.” I moan, and I can feel his hands on my thighs, urging me into his arms. I comply, and can feel myself be lifted to the bathroom counter, his hands squeezing the fat of my hips before dropping to his knees. His fingers looped around my underwear, and I attempted to move in a way that would aid him in their removal. As soon as they were off, he stuffed them into his pocket, and moved to lift my dress up, his face disappearing into my now spread legs.
And suddenly he was everywhere, tongue swiping over my clit in rapid motions, flicking against me in a way that had me immediately squeezing my thighs around his face, to which Spencer responded by pushing them apart, leaving me shaking.
“Oh god, Spencer. Oh-” I moan, over and over again, my hand gripping onto the strands of his hair. My eyes squeeze shut as I feel my orgasm rapidly approaching, my legs trembling more than ever.
“Spencer- I’m gonna-” I groan out, my grip tightening, and I look down, watching him devour me with so much precision and focus, the same I’d seen during his playing all night. I watched as his eyes met mine, his lips sucking around my clit and in a fit of moans, I found myself releasing all over his tongue, my body shuddering as he worked me through my orgasm, moaning against my core.
He rose from his knees and planted a long, deep kiss on my lips, and I moaned as I tasted myself on him. My hands started to go for his belt, desperate to feel this man inside me. As soon as his cock was freed from the confines of his briefs, I guided him towards my entrance, gasping as I felt him push into me, immediately filling me up. I breathed in sharply from the pleasure of the sensation, my eyes screwing shut before opening them to see his eyes staring back at me. He gave me a moment to adjust, watching my face for any sign of discomfort, but there was none, only the carnal desperation I felt for this man. I nodded to let him know I was ready, and suddenly, like a man possessed, he began to jut his hips towards mine, causing me to whimper and dig my nails into his back.
He moaned as he slammed into me, over and over again, while his mouth kissed at my neck, at my jaw, my lips, murmuring my praises over and over again.
“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He groans, my hips firmly gripped by his large hands, keeping me from slipping off the counter. “And that dress. Fuck. God, I want you.”
I nod, too overwhelmed with pleasure to even speak, rather opting to moan his name and nod furiously.
He kept one hand on my hip, while the other trailed down to where we were joined, and began to rub fast, hard circles over my already sensitive bud, the action causing me to gasp out and open my eyes, letting him know that my second release of the night was inevitable.
“You wanna cum, pretty girl?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low and his fingers diligent on my clit.
“Please,” I sob out, my voice breaking with just how much I needed this right now. How much I needed him.
“Come for me.” He murmurs, and as if under a spell, I do, coming undone rapidly in his grasp, my head falling against his shoulder as he continues the movement of his hips until I feel him still, and then spill into me, his breath heavy and chest heaving.
I pull back, my forehead meeting his as he stares at me in a bit of a trance, our breaths mingling as we both came down from what had just happened.
“I think.. you should probably cover up.. after that.” He murmurs, grinning a bit at the wide array of marks he’d just left on my neck and chest, undeniably exposing us.
“Right you are.” I giggle back, leaning in for another kiss. This time sweeter, softer.
I was definitely wearing this dress again for him.
hello!! oh my god!! it has been so long since i've posted a fic. finals are over! i am free! i promise we will be back to a more normal schedule now (can i do weekly fics? who knows. i'll try). as usual, thank you for any and all reblogs, likes and comments. it's been a long time since i've even thought about writing, so i hope this is up to everyone's standards. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins office party challenge. so, you know. look at the other fics there too! sorry for clearly not knowing anything about card games. also also, just a fun fact. i envisioned readers dress being meredith grey's prom dress from s2ep27.. hehe. okay, i've already talked enough. thank you thank you thank you for reading and supporting!!!
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds self insert#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.
I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.
I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢
I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!
Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?
Hey Doc Masterlist here
Word Count: 2,000+
Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.
Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.
Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!
Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil
“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breather called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.”
Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.
“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.
Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.
“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.
“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.”
Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier.
Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances.
As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.
“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship.
“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.
“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair.
He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship.
With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.
You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.
“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral.
Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was.
“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain.
“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.
“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,
“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him.
“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists.
Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain.
“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder.
“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed.
“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher.
“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him.
“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature.
“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue.
He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.
“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets.
“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head.
“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked.
“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over.
“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”
What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.
After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper.
“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face.
“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.
Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.
Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.
#one piece#x reader#ask snail#snail answers#eustass kid#kid pirates#op kid#kid x reader#op kid x reader#one piece x reader#gn!reader#one piece x platonic!reader#eustass kid x reader#subtle killer x reader#killer x reader#one piece kid x reader
434 notes
·
View notes
Text
Thrilled to introduce DEADBOYWEEN!!! A vaguely Halloween-themed Dead Boy Detectives Fan Event that will run from Oct 21st - Nov 3rd!!
Featuring 14 prompts, one for each day of the event, that can be interpreted however you wish, with any characters from the show and through any medium you wish! Fics, art, gifs, anything you want!
Prompts will be posted soon!!
My main blog is @lesbicosmos and I'm so excited to be running this event!! I've been wanting to run something like this for a while now and was hugely inspired by @adskayapanda's brilliant Painland Week to create one for the show that has taken over my brain for the last two and a half months!!!
More Details
Prompts
#dead boy detectives#dead boy detectives netflix#dbda#deadboyween#edwin payne#charles rowland#crystal palace#niko sasaki#monty the crow#the cat king#jenny green#esther finch#the night nurse#payneland#cryland#palasaki#info
373 notes
·
View notes
Text
moon, river - c.s. ( w. 1049 )
꒰ cregan will always defends your daughter’s claim ꒱ — cregan stark x reader
୨ ⎯ period typical misogyny. implied trouble concieving children. reader is written to be very influenced by her environment, and therefor uncertain of herself and her self worth. girl dad cregan. cregan's kind of a medieval feminist. i named your daughter for you, sorry. this is very cregan pov, not many of reader's thoughts. umm maybe not canon cregan but it’s my cregan. uhh dialogue heavy. tbh i don't even know what i was writing here. fem!reader. ⎯ ୧
i advocate for creganwives who don’t want to have ten children.
Cregan wasn’t nearly as physically imposing underneath all of his armour.
You had observed as much before — watching keenly as he unclasped his cape and slid out of the thick leather armour. It was a sight to behold, the muscles in his shoulders and arms as he fought to disrobe.
He was much different here, in your shared chambers. Lord Stark shed with his dayware, Cregan stood in his wake.
You had been married for years, and still, your heart fluttered like an infatuated girl when he loomed over the bed, hair damp from the bath.
Married for years, with two children, and yet — sprawled across the bed in naught but a thin nightgown, you ogle him as he makes his way to bed.
He's hard to wrangle; he walks the keep and checks on your daughters, among other mindless tasks, before finally getting into bed every night. It gives him ‘time to think’, and makes you senselessly anticipatory.
Most nights are the same. He curls into you, head on your chest, to decompress. It's sweet, to see such an intimate side of him.
Tonight, in lieu of the typical mindless drivel that lulled you both to sleep, you had been quiet. Cregan could feel the tension of whatever weighed on your mind, but he had not wished to pry.
You rub aimless little circles against his back before finally speaking, “Are you content with this?”
Cregan looks up, lifting his head from your breastbone. He doesn’t speak for a moment, reading your expression, “Content?” When you don’t reply he continues, “Of course I am content. What has prompted you to ask such?”
He can see the solemn, contemplative expression written across your face; the way you gaze down, as if through him, “It is just…” You hesitate, he keeps firm in his stare, “We have been married years, and I have not given you many children. And, no boys.”
He doesn't reply, unsure how or what to say. True, it is, that in the years you have been married there have only been two children — both daughters.
“Do you think,” He begins, sitting up more, “That I am discontent because you have not given me a son?”
Silence hangs heavy in the room. You look guilty; he cannot tell what it is you feel guilty for, but he wishes you did not feel guilty at all.
Cregan says your name once, his voice low and soft. When you meet his eyes he can sense the resignation — you wish you had not brought this up.
“I just worry, that is all,” You reply, quietly.
His expression stays set. There is solace in knowing him well enough to read his microexpressions; he isn’t brooding, he is concerned.
He speaks, “What is it that you worry about – my discontentment?”
“Perhaps I have not performed by duty,” You shrug, as if to pass the comment off as nonchalant. Maybe it is; ladies raised to believe their self-worth lies in their good stock and ability to breed and please can talk about such matters with a level of insouciance.
Frustration blooms in the space between his lungs. He understands the way polite society worms into young women’s brains, and how hard it is to remove that sickness once it's taken root. Still — you surely must know that your worth does not lie within your womb, he thinks.
“Your duty?” He asks, tone firmer now, “And what duty is that? To be bred like a milking cow?”
The abruptness and near vulgarity of his words are enough to leave you taken aback, blinking at him. Cregan was certainly not one for eloquent metaphors.
When you seem not to have a response, he begins to feel bad. This isn’t your fault. You were raised to think like this.
“I have not given you an heir,” You’re quiet, almost embarrassed.
“You have,” He counters.
“You have no son,”
“I have Lyanna,”
A log in the fireplace shifts and crackles as you sit in silence; a scullery maid shuffles by in the hallway.
He watches you gather your composure before you speak, “And you do not mind?” You sound unsure, he hates it.
Cregan reaches, sliding his fingers under your jaw to make you look at him fully, “Tell me — if we should have a son, would you be content to strip Lyanna of her birthright?”
The question feels harsh. He watches guarded confusion swirl into your eyes.
Of course, you would not wish for your daughter to have her title taken from her. But so many others, men in Cregan’s council, mocked the idea. They rued Lyanna’s power, the status she already held above them as a girl of all but five. So it would be no shock if someone insisted she be stripped of her title as heir to Winterfell, and it was frightening. Frightening to imagine someone stealing your daughter’s future and freedom.
“If it is what you wished,” You answer, resignation thinly veiled.
“I asked you a question,” He’s firm but gentle.
You gape for a moment, before answering, “No, never. I could not imagine doing that to her.”
“And do you think I would?”
“No,”
He nods, sliding his hand up to cradle your face. You look ashamed, he tries to soothe it away with his thumb over your cheekbone.
“Do you think you’ve disappointed me, pet?” He doesn’t wish to subject you to the humiliation of answering such a vulnerable question, so he continues, “You need not worry so much. I do not need a boy; I am more than pleased with things just how they are,” He strokes his thumb slowly, “Do not agonize over something so trivial.”
He catches the tear that rolls down your cheek.
When you speak your voice is quiet, “You are so good,” And then, “Many lords do not care much for their daughters.”
The thought makes his chest burn; to not care for his daughters? Unthinkable, “Do not praise me for loving my children. Those girls are my world, as are you.” He feels lighter when he sees the edge of your mouth tick up, so he speaks again, “I care not that I have daughters in place of sons — I have, and for that I am lucky.”
He has and he is lucky.
#i don't want kids but he DOES SOMETHING TO ME#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark#cregan x reader#rubbing my hands together like “just cooked this one up” (i wrote it in two hours and didn't reread or edit)#𖦹。⋆ cregan#guys let me be real i dgaf about his kid#like the one in canon that he’s single fathering#not real in this world
366 notes
·
View notes
Note
helloo don’t mind me!! just here to request the prompt ‘that little panicked reach for them if they trip ever so slightly’ with oscar (i love him i fear) <33
ohhh oscar piastri my fav polite cat <3 thank you sm for sending this in darling ,, hope you like it <3
lazy mornings are a rarity for you and oscar. if oscar doesn't have a team meeting at the break of dawn, you have a morning class or an early shift, or another commitment that requires one of you to rush out of the house before the sun has fully risen.
today, though, you're lucky. neither you nor oscar have anywhere to be, your only plans for the day being to spend as much time together as physically possible and soak up every drop of domestic bliss that you can.
making breakfast together, of course, falls under the umbrella of your designated 'oscar time', as you've so lovingly taken to calling it. and while oscar's desire to follow his meal plan may be strong, but his love for home-made pancakes and chopped fruit is far, far stronger.
the batter is fairly easy to whip up, your half-asleep brain thanking you for the lack of thinking necessary to make your breakfast.
oscar is tasked with manning the stove while you begin to prepare the fruit. though the boy claims he’s an expert at flipping the pancakes, you expect to spend five minutes after eating scraping batter off of the hob. still, his earnestness is nothing but endearing.
with a box of strawberries in hand, you begin to make your way back over to the counter. somehow, the four steps that make up your journey prove too complicated, and you stumble a little as you walk. it's nothing serious; just enough to make you swear under your breath as you lose your footing, yet you remain upright.
the pancake is abandoned, and oscar instantly has a hand on your waist to steady you, usually neutral face painted with an expression of disbelief. you know formula one drivers are expected to have fast reflexes, but it’s as though oscar has trained himself to respond to anything pertaining to you at an almost superhuman speed.
his brows are furrowed, and you want to lean forward and press a kiss against the space between them in order to get him to relax.
"there's no way. you did not just trip over air, y/n."
"sorry. i was just falling for you," you respond in a sing-song tone, flashing oscar the widest, proudest grin you can muster.
silence.
"ugh," he groans, nose scrunched in faux disgust. "you're so cheesy."
"and you love it," you hum, playfully tapping the flushed tip of his nose with a teasing smile.
"yeah, yeah, i'll just let you fall next time, darling" oscar grumbles, though the corner of his mouth is quirked up into a fond smile. "i'm sure the cold kitchen tiles'll humble you a little.”
your jaw drops in shock, and as you search for a witty retort, your eyes land on oscar’s pancake. still wrapped up in his act of chivalry, eyes not having left your frame yet, your boyfriend fails to notice his culinary masterpiece is quickly overcooking.
you sniff once, then once again, plastering a look of confusion onto your face before you speak.
“do you smell burning?”
“fuck!”
#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri blurb#oscar piastri drabble#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula one x reader#formula one x you
564 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fictober Day 18: Mirror Sex
Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Prompt: Mirror Sex (✨)
Summary: Matt decided to move a mirror before your bed.
Warnings: SMUT (18+), mirror sex, slight dom!Matt, dirty talk, use of "good girl"
Word Count: 902
Read Me On AO3! (Coming soon)
He turned the floor-length mirror you brought into the relationship toward the bed. You didn’t think much of it, at first—you were too focused on his head between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a man starved, to pay much mind to the inanimate object—until he told you, “Turn around. On your stomach, now.”
That is how you got here, ass in the air and staring at your reflection in the mirror as Matt thrusts his thick cock into your cunt from behind.
“Look at you,” he grunts, pushing his hips into yours. “Tell me what you see.”
He can hear it. He can hear how fast you’re breathing, those moans that get stuck in your throat when you are overwhelmed, and he can feel how tightly your walls are clutching him. Matt can feel you all around him, but he can’t see you. He can’t see your eyes rolled back into your head, can’t see the way your back is arching, or how your skin glistens in the purple light of the Billboard streaming in from outside. He can’t see how fucking lewd you look, and you have hardly seen it yourself.
He wants you to experience this in a way close to what he is experiencing every time he fucks you. Every time he gives you pleasure or takes it in return. He wants you to see what he is doing to you, and paint him a picture his brain will never forget.
The room is filled with the obscene slapping of skin against skin, wetness trickling down his cock and onto his thighs, as he takes you hard enough for your pussy to remember him for days to come.
You won’t be able to walk when he is done with you.
He curls his fingers around your neck and hoists you up. “Eyes up,” he commands. “Focus.”
You cry out. The sight of you is entirely too much.
“Tell me what you see. C’mon.”
You can see his hand around your throat, his index finger resting against your lips as you choke out pieces of a sentence.
Your breasts jolting every time he thrusts into you.
Your back arched.
His cock disappearing in your wet cunt.
Your swollen clit.
Hickeys on every inch of skin he could find before.
And you can see him. You can see his brows furrowed, lips parted and abs straining. His thick thighs are broad enough for you to catch them behind yours, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting, barely pulling out before he slides back into you.
You can barely breathe, barely even talk. When you go silent though, he squeezes his fingers against your pulsepoint, and he commands you to tell him again. To tell him what you see.
It is like watching porn, almost. You watch yourself get taken apart by him, and it pushes you closer to the edge. It curls the beginnings of an orgasm in the pit of your belly, so intense that you can’t help but cry for mercy.
Matt hoists you up even higher, chest against your back. His heart is hammering to the beat of yours.
“See that?” He cups your pussy. “See how fucking wet you are, sweetheart? Hm?”
He has never looked hotter, you think. Eager fingers rub at your clit, and you watch as he brushes against his own cock. It makes him hiss. It makes him twitch, buried deep in your velvety walls.
God, you won’t last like this.
His fingers speed up. “I want you to see what you look like when you come,” he says. “I want you to watch. Watch you come all over my cock. Watch me fill you up. Watch…”
You clench around him, eyes threatening to close. He takes your breath away with a simple flick of his fingers, and you have no choice but to watch as your orgasm washes over you.
What strikes you most though is what he looks like when he comes from this angle, spilling deep inside you. You feel him, and you can see him, and you come the hardest you have in your entire life.
For a moment, you black out. You can’t see or feel anything other than his cum leaking out of you. You can’t breathe under his hand, but oxygen seems useless anyway. You’re not alive, you’re not existing, you’re just there. You’re there and nowhere, floating in a bubble between space and time as you so often do, but it takes an eternity for the wave to subside. It continues to crash and drown you, and it almost kills you.
Matt barely catches your fragile body as you collapse in on yourself.
“Shhh,” he coos, lowering the two of you back down on the bed.
He is fragile—overly sensitive and overstimulated, too—but in this moment, you are all that matters to him.
“You so well,” he tells you. “Take a deep breath.”
You inhale, following the steady rise and fall of his chest to come back to reality.
“Good girl. I’m so proud of you.”
When you look in the mirror this time, you find yourself safe and sound wrapped in his arms, and everything falls back in place.
“That was…” you trail off.
Again, Matt shushes you. He squeezes your hand. Three times. I love you.
You squeeze back. Four times. I love you too.
You might keep the mirror where it is, after all.
@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze
#matt murdock#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock smut#daredevil#daredevil x reader#lizzi's fictober 2024#charlie cox
154 notes
·
View notes
Note
🍎 + bucktommy
yay I love this one! Thank you for the prompt, Lorri 🫶!
🍎 apple & pumpkin picking / future spec | Bucktommy | G | 1,249
Buck only barely manages to get the door open before Jee nearly launches herself out of his arms and into Tommy.
“‘mmy!”
Tommy lets out a small ‘uff’ sound and reflexively reaches out to grab Jee, smiling big as his brain catches up to the last 10 seconds.
“Hey kiddo!”
“I made a turtle!” she says. She’s still got little bits of clay stuck to her fingers.
“Wow! You wanna show me?” Tommy asks, setting her on the floor as she nods and wiggles to be put down.
Buck huffs a little laugh at the way she half-runs half-toddles into the living room to grab her clay sculpture. Then he leans over to kiss his boyfriend hello.
“Hey,” he says. “Sorry, babe, I meant to text you but the morning got away from us.”
“Everything good with Chim and Maddie?”
“Yeah, yeah, they’re fine, just some last-minute court meeting for Mara. I think Hen’s there too,” he explains.
He’s not sure how these things usually go, but it seems a bit like all these lawyers and social workers are expecting them to drop everything the second they’re needed. It feels a little like Chim and Hen are always on call, that way.
“Rain check on the movie?”
“Of course,” Tommy says, moving to rest his hand on Buck’s lower back before he ducks down to see the monstrosity Jee’s clay turtle has morphed into. He ooh’s and ahh’s over it for a minute, asking her questions about the colors before turning back to look at Buck. “You two have big plans today?”
“Working our way through the arts and crafts mom and dad packed, for now.”
Tommy hums. “There’s an orchard up in Thousand Oaks, how would you two feel about some apple picking? I think they have a petting zoo up there too.”
“I think we could do with some fresh air,” Buck says, pleasantly surprised. Tommy loves Jee, but Buck hadn’t really expected him to stick around and co-babysit all day, much less drive them out anywhere.
Tommy turns to Jee, then. “What do you say, Jee? Want to go pick out some apples to bring back for mom and dad?”
“Yeah!” she shouts, dropping the turtle to the floor where it smooshes.
It’s quick work getting everybody packed up and loaded into Tommy’s car. Jee’s snug in her car seat, and she’s busy with some kind of interactive board book but still demands to hear the Encanto soundtrack for the whole ride. Tommy surprises him by knowing most of the words already. Saw it with my nephews when it came out, he explains when he catches Buck smiling at him.
The orchard isn’t too far from Buck’s place but it’s L.A. so it takes them just under an hour to find the farm and grab a parking spot.
It’s not too busy today. One advantage of the odd hours of the job is being free on random Wednesdays to go to some of the more popular spots.
There’s a quick stop at the entrance to get their bags and directions and then they wander into the rows of trees. Jee starts picking right away, grabbing any apples within her reach and plopping about half into her bag, the rest falling to the ground before Buck gently tells her to only pick the ones she’s sure she really wants.
He’s on the hunt for some baking apples himself, so they meander into the Braeburn rows.
“I want that one!” Jee calls, pointing at a branch about a foot over Tommy’s head.
“This one?” Tommy asks, pointing.
“I wanna pick!”
Tommy just chuckles a little. “Okay,” he says, and lifts Jee up onto his hip before asking, “you alright with going on my shoulders?”
Jee nods, eyes focused on her apple.
Tommy lifts her up, plopping her onto his shoulders and laughing a little when her hands instinctively go to the top of his head and press down for balance.
Buck is absolutely taken with the sight. He’d be laughing too at the way Tommy’s face is smushed under her tiny hands if it weren’t for his own eyes getting rounder and a little wetter and his cheeks flushing. Tommy looks over at him for a second, locking eyes like he’s about to say kids, huh? but then he sees Buck’s face and he just smiles bigger.
Jee shakes the tree a bit with the force of pulling the apple off and promptly bites into it.
“You get it?” Tommy asks.
Jee takes another bite.
“Alright let’s hop down,” Buck jumps in before Jee tries to stay up there all afternoon.
Tommy bends to the ground and helps her off his shoulders.
They wander for a while longer. Buck decides on Cortlands instead after Tommy offers him a bite of a particularly sweet one that he picked. He manages to get his bag filled up enough that he’s confident he’ll have plenty for baking an apple cake with later before Jee gets bored with the picking and walking and runs over to the tiny, farm petting zoo.
They only have a few goats and chickens, but she has a good time feeding them little pieces of cake cones, giggling when their mouths tickle her fingers.
Buck and Tommy watch her for a bit, chatting idly. Tommy’s hand found his as they left the picking area and they haven’t let go since. Like this, Buck finds it all too easy to think about what their future could look like. Taking kids to the orchard. Making plans to visit the pumpkin patch in a few weeks so they can teach them how to make a Jack-O-Lantern. It just feels easy - inevitable almost - and it makes a wave of contradictory calm and excitement wash over Buck. He can’t wait for that.
Jee starts to look ready for a nap after not too long, so they gather everything back into the car and make their way home. She’s asleep before they even hit the 101.
The rest of the day into the early evening passes in a blur of nutmeg and batter and can we watch Coco, please?
It’s nearly 6 by the time Chim and Maddie stop over in a flurry of Sorry, sorry, we didn’t realize it would be such a long day!
They come in for a slice of cake and share the news from the day. Things are finally smoothing out for Hen and Karen and it makes them all breathe a little easier.
Maddie reiterates their apologies, mostly to Tommy, at being a wrench in their plans. Tommy just smiles and assures them I love kids, Jee is great! Buck, for his part, has no idea how to tell Maddie how nice of a day it was without sounding like some kind of lovestruck lunatic who wanted to propose to his boyfriend right there in the middle of the Granny Smiths; so he mostly nods along.
They say goodbye after they’ve finished eating. Tommy hands over the bag of miscellaneous apples that Jee carefully curated, and she gives both of their legs a big hug goodnight.
When they close the door a cozy quiet fills the apartment, and Buck leans against the frame for a minute, looking at Tommy.
Tommy smiles back at him, reaching up to fiddle with the hair behind Buck’s ear.
“Good day, huh?”
“Yeah,” Buck leans in for the kiss and mutters against his lips, “good day.”
send an emoji + pairing for a fall ficlet!🍂
#bucktommy#911 abc#evan buckley#tommy kinard#jeeyun han#tevan#bucktommy ficlet#tevan ficlet#my ficlet#prompt fills#aaronntviet
159 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I saw that you said it was fine to request still, so if it's alright I'll give you my thoughts/promt if it's fine by you.
Also wanted to say i love you're fanfics! Super entertaining and well written so i was wondering if you could write one that's Vil x mermaid! Reader (romantic) the prompt is-
Vil has been slowly falling in love with the reader; not just by her beauty but her personality the two have these little meet ups where she sings/the two talk endlessly and just enjoy eachothers company, but what I'm getting with this,is that Vil would take time to process his feelings but eventually he gets there and confesses. Maybe it could be a friends x lovers?
whatever you want to do with this idea is cool beans, I just really want to see what you come up with!! Alright,that's all much love ♡♡
Vil Schoenheit x Mermaid! Reader
the idea is so big brained!!! I hope you like it <3
Vil has always appreciated beauty. He lives and breathes it—the art of refinement, the craft of elegance. But lately, beauty has taken on a new form for him, and it looks suspiciously like you. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but he knows it’s tied to those secret meetups you two share by the shoreline.
You’re a mermaid, and you make a point to remind him of that every time he mentions something about the "unbearable" human world. You always roll your eyes dramatically, your tail shimmering in the moonlight as you laugh at his over-the-top complaints about fashion disasters, inferior skincare routines, or the latest scandal in the entertainment industry.
"You humans are so fragile," you often tease, resting your chin on your hand as you float lazily in the water. "Honestly, Vil, it’s a wonder you haven’t all crumbled under the weight of your own drama."
He gives you a sharp look every time, but there’s always a trace of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "And yet, here you are, meeting up with one of these fragile humans every week."
"I didn’t say you weren’t entertaining," you retort with a sly grin. "It’s like watching a soap opera, except with more skincare tips."
Vil chuckles, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, which somehow manages to stay flawless even in the salty sea breeze. "You’d be lost without my advice. I’ve seen your seaweed face masks."
You pretend to gasp, putting a hand to your chest. "Seaweed is a perfectly valid skincare ingredient! In fact, it’s far superior to that toxic concoction you call moisturizer."
"Seaweed smells like the bottom of the ocean."
"And you don’t?"
That’s how it always goes—banter, teasing, comfortable silences filled with the soft crashing of waves, and eventually, music. You sing sometimes, when the mood strikes you. It’s never anything planned; it just happens. Vil always listens, captivated, because your voice is something he can't quite describe. It's raw, but pure, untouched by the expectations of the stage or the pressures of fame.
Sometimes he sings back, though he pretends he’s only doing it because you insist. "Come on, Vil. Just a few bars. You know you want to."
"I am a professional," he says, crossing his arms. "I don’t perform on a whim."
But you know how to coax him, and soon enough, he’s harmonizing with your lilting melody, his smooth, controlled voice intertwining with yours in a way that makes the night feel magical.
It’s been months of these little meetings, and Vil has never been quite sure what to make of you. You’re beautiful, of course—stunning, really—but that’s not what has him coming back to the shore every week.
It’s the way you make him feel completely at ease, the way you challenge him without being mean-spirited, the way you listen to him vent about things you couldn’t care less about yet still offer thoughtful responses.
And then there’s that laugh of yours—sharp, like the crack of a wave against the rocks, but warm enough to make him feel lighter every time he hears it.
He’s always valued control—over his image, his career, his emotions—but with you, he’s found himself slipping. He realizes, with some discomfort, that he’s been looking forward to these meetings a little too much. It’s not just the singing or the banter anymore. It’s... you.
That thought bothers him, because Vil Schoenheit does not get "distracted." He doesn’t fall for anyone. At least, not like this.
But here he is, walking down to the beach again, heart beating faster than usual as he anticipates seeing you. Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way the moon is hanging lower than usual, casting everything in a silvery glow, or maybe it’s the fact that Vil can’t deny his feelings anymore.
You’re already waiting for him when he arrives, sitting on a rock with your tail swishing lazily in the water. "Late again, Mr. Superstar?" you call out teasingly.
"I’m fashionably late, thank you," Vil replies, though there’s a softness in his voice. He takes a seat on the sand, smoothing out his coat with practiced precision before looking at you.
"You’re slipping," you say, eyeing him critically. "Usually, you’d have a comeback ready. What’s the matter? One of your beauty products finally backfired?"
Vil snorts softly, shaking his head. "No, though if it did, you’d be the first to hear about it." He looks out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "I’ve just been... thinking."
"Uh-oh," you say, folding your arms over your chest. "That sounds dangerous. What about?"
He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach this. Vil has always been calculated, measured in everything he does. Confessing his feelings, though? That’s not something he’s prepared for. He glances at you, and suddenly, the words start spilling out before he can stop them.
"You know, for someone who claims not to care about humans, you certainly seem to enjoy spending time with me."
You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the shift in tone. "Are you fishing for compliments, Vil? Because I don’t need to stroke your ego any more than it already is."
He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, it’s just... You’re always teasing me about humans, about my world, but you keep coming back. Why?"
You tilt your head, considering his question for a moment before replying. "Because you’re interesting, Vil. You’re not like the others I’ve met. Most humans get caught up in themselves, but you... you’ve got a spark. You’re genuine, even when you’re being all high-and-mighty. And, well, it’s not like I’ve got a lot of options for good conversation under the sea."
Vil’s heart skips a beat at your words, and he finds himself smiling despite the nerves building up inside him. "I see. So I’m just your entertainment, then?"
"Oh, definitely," you say, grinning. "But you’re also... more than that."
Vil blinks, his breath catching slightly. "More?"
You nod, your expression softening. "You’re someone I look forward to seeing. I like being around you, Vil. You make me feel... seen. And I’m not just talking about my looks. It’s like you actually care about me as a person, not just a pretty face."
He swallows, his chest tightening as he listens to your words. This is it. He can’t hold it in any longer. "I do care," he says quietly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "More than you know."
You look at him, your teasing expression fading as you sense the weight behind his words. "Vil...?"
He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "I think... I think I’m falling for you."
There. He said it. And now his heart is racing, his palms are sweating, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Vil Schoenheit is unsure of himself. He braces for your reaction, half expecting you to laugh it off or tease him like you always do.
But you don’t. Instead, you blink at him, your mouth opening and closing as you process his confession. "You... what?"
Vil clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I’m in love with you," he repeats, more confidently this time. "I’ve been falling for you for a while now, and I didn’t want to admit it, but... I can’t keep it to myself anymore."
There’s a moment of stunned silence before you break into a wide smile. "Vil, you absolute idiot."
He recoils slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I’ve been waiting for you to say something for months now! I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you."
Vil blinks, taken aback. "You... you knew?"
"I didn’t know know," you admit, "but I had a feeling. You’re not exactly subtle, Vil."
He stares at you, a mixture of relief and embarrassment flooding his system. "Why didn’t you say anything, then?"
"Because I wanted to see how long it would take for you to figure it out yourself," you say with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "I didn’t think it’d take this long, though."
Vil narrows his eyes, though there’s no malice in his expression. "You’re insufferable."
"And yet, you love me," you tease, reaching out to cup his cheek gently. "What does that say about you?"
He huffs, though his heart is fluttering in his chest at your touch. "That I have terrible taste."
You laugh again, the sound bright and infectious, and before Vil can say anything else, you pull him in for a kiss. It’s soft, gentle, and Vil feels like his entire world is melting away in that moment. The taste of saltwater lingers on your lips, and for the first time in a long time, Vil isn’t worried about appearances or perfection. He’s just... happy.
When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling like fools. "So," you say, your voice teasing, "does this mean we’re a thing now?"
Vil rolls his eyes, though he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. "I suppose it does."
"Good," you say, leaning in to kiss him again. "Because I’m not letting you back out of this one, Mr. Superstar."
Vil chuckles against your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to pull you even closer. "Oh, trust me," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, "I have no intention of backing out. But I do expect you to stop wearing those dreadful seaweed masks."
You gasp dramatically, pulling back just far enough to look him in the eye. "Excuse you! Seaweed is nature’s skincare miracle, Vil. Just because it’s not wrapped in fancy packaging doesn’t mean it’s ineffective."
He raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Perhaps, but you’ll have to let me introduce you to something a little more refined. If we’re going to be a couple, I simply can’t allow my significant other to use subpar beauty products."
"Oh, is that so?" you ask, amusement twinkling in your eyes. "I didn’t realize I was dating a beauty tyrant."
"It’s for your own good," he says with mock seriousness, though there’s a warmth behind his gaze that betrays his affection. "Think of it as part of your glow-up. You’ll thank me later."
You can’t help but laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. It’s strange, really—how quickly this has all come together, yet how natural it feels. You never would’ve guessed that your casual banter and late-night talks would lead to this, but now that it’s happening, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Vil reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle but purposeful. "You know," he says softly, his usual sharp tone melting into something softer, "I’ve never met anyone quite like you."
You smile at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. "I could say the same about you, Vil. You’re not as scary as people think, you know."
He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "That’s a well-maintained persona, I’ll have you know. Can’t let people think I’m soft."
"Oh, but you are," you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. "At least with me."
He scoffs lightly, though there’s no real bite behind it. "I’ll deny it if you tell anyone."
You laugh, resting your forehead against his as you savor the closeness between you. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel completely at peace, as if everything has fallen into place. Vil, with all his elegance, wit, and sharpness, has somehow become the person you’ve come to care about more than you ever thought possible. And now, as he holds you close, you know that you wouldn’t trade this for the world.
"I’m glad it’s you," you whisper, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "I never thought I’d fall for a perfectionist with an ego the size of the sun, but here we are."
He lets out a soft, genuine laugh, his arms wrapping around you more securely. "I never thought I’d fall for someone who argues with me over skincare, but I suppose life has a sense of humor."
"Looks like we’re both in for a wild ride, then," you say with a grin.
Vil hums in agreement, his hand gently stroking your hair. "As long as it’s with you, I think I can handle it."
You smile, feeling your heart soar at his words. There’s a certain magic to this moment—a kind of fairy tale that feels like it’s been written just for the two of you. And as you sit there, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something truly beautiful.
"Well then," you say, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, "looks like you’re stuck with me, Schoenheit."
"Forever, I hope," he says softly, before pulling you in for another kiss—this one longer, deeper, filled with the promise of something lasting.
And in that moment, with the moon shining overhead and the waves lapping gently against the shore, you know that whatever comes next, you’ll face it together..
Masterlist
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twisted wonderland#vil x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit#vil#twst vil#twst vil x reader
145 notes
·
View notes
Text
BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 1/3 : what they love most about each other/meeting the friends and family
Slowly making my way through the @bucktommypositivityweek prompts! I'm not normally a big fan of shovel talks, but I thought Tommy deserved his own moment where his friends show up for him and have his back (and so does his boyfriend).
The bar was pretty much exactly like Buck expected it to be: plastered with an assorted collection of knick-knacks, military plaques, and wall art that Buck will just call inspired–fighting each other for wallspace all the way up to the low T-bar ceiling. The main source of light came from the ionized glow of the neon beer signs and the stained glass fixtures over the billiards tables that looked like they hadn’t been updated since the 70s. Buck was pretty sure he’d spotted at least three fire code violations just walking through the doors–but that wasn’t what tonight was about.
A small section tucked between the fleet of pool tables and the dart boards had been reserved for their party, and from his spot at the bar Buck had a clear view of where Tommy was leaning against his pool cue, his posture the most relaxed it’s been since they’d hit Grand Junction as he laughed with the group of men gathered around him.
Buck couldn’t help but smile. The longer they’d driven, the more tense Tommy had become, and Buck had begun to worry that maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Now he felt like he could finally breathe; they’d booked it up the 15 and onto the 70 on the way here, and Buck was looking forward to taking their time on the way home, finding the scenic routes and exploring the one road towns and tacky tourist traps they stumbled across. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a week off work that hadn’t been the result of a near-fatal injury.
“You know you’re the only person he’s ever brought to one of these,” came a voice to his right, one that Buck had only recently become familiar with.
With great pain, Buck drew his attention away from Tommy to the person settling in at the bar beside him. Dave. He was the only one of the guys here that had been with Tommy since Fort Irwin. He had a wife and two daughters and a boxer named Jones–all information Buck had learned, not from the man himself, but during their three day drive from L.A. to Colorado Springs–which Tommy had used to give Buck a rundown on pretty much everything he knew about his old battalion mates from their rank down to their dental records.
“I’m happy to be here,” Buck said, meaning it. He hadn’t been expecting an invitation, taken completely off guard when Tommy had asked him so casually, as they got ready to head out for work one morning. He’d presented it like it would just be a good excuse for a fun road trip and not what Buck was starting to piece together in his head was actually a monumental gesture. Either way, he’d agreed immediately.
Dave was watching him like he was trying his best to punch through Buck’s skull and peer directly into his brain. Buck had a feeling Dave hadn’t really made up his mind about Buck–yet–and if there was one thing he was going to change by the end of the night it was that.
“Tom said you’re also a firefighter.”
Buck twisted in his chair so they were facing each other. “Yeah, actually I’m at Tommy’s old station, transferred in not long after he left. Kind of funny how things work out, eh?”
“I’ve heard stories,” Dave said in a tone that implied not all of them were good.
“It’s not like that anymore,” Buck assured. Gerard’s second reign of the 118 had been over for a while now and Buck had been informed by Hen and Chimney that although it had been unbearable, with more eyes on him, Gerard had not been nearly as bad as the first time around.
“I’ve heard that too.” The corner of Dave’s mouth ticked up. That was the most charitable he’d been thus far. “Tommy has a lot of good things to say about the new crew there, especially you.”
Buck wasn’t above preening a little at that. He knew all about bragging about his partner to anyone that would listen. He was practically a pro at it at this point. If anything he and Tommy had a little competition going on at this point.
Dave’s eyes flicked over Buck’s shoulder and back. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep here because Tommy will be fuckin’ pissed at me, and I’ll never hear the end of it–but, you seem like a nice guy, and I just want to make sure you know what a big deal this is. These shindigs used to host a few more bodies before Tommy came out. Just don’t hurt him.”
He could hear Tommy’s laugh, the full-bodied, knee-slapping one he only did when you really got him cracking up or he was about three pints in, or both, floating over the din of the bar. Buck could pick that laugh out of any crowd. He could follow it home.
Dave was watching him with a curious expression, and maybe Buck hadn’t totally won him over yet, but he had a feeling they were at least moving in the right direction.
“I won’t. And I–I won't let him know you gave me the shovel talk if you rat me out either, because he doesn't know this yet and I want him to hear it from me first, but Tommy's one of the most amazing people I've ever met. He's one of the first people I've been with in a long time that makes me feel like I can be myself, unconditionally, and I just hope I make him feel the same way, because I love him.”
“I think it’s safe to say he does.” The corner of Dave’s mouth twitched up in the amused beginning of a smile. “But you should probably let him know that instead of me, just saying.”
Buck rolled his eyes as Dave clapped him cordially on the shoulder. It looked like he wasn’t off the hot seat yet.
He held out his glass and was pleased when Dave clinked them together. It was progress.
///
It was 1 am when they finally made it back to their motel, the latest Buck had been out in a good long while. He’d taken the keys from Tommy before they’d even left for the evening and now he was swooping around the cab of the truck to catch his boyfriend as he nearly tumbled out of the passenger side door.
“Easy there,” Buck said as he tried his best to steady Tommy on his own two feet, a task more difficult than it sounded.
“I think I lost my keys,” Tommy moaned as Buck grabbed his jacket and locked up.
“No, see I’ve got them right here.” He jangled them in Tommy’s face and watched him grin before slipping them into his own pocket. “Don’t worry I’ll give them back to you later, here let me help you out.”
He slipped his arm around Tommy’s waist, pulling him a little tighter against his side than was probably necessary.
Tommy’s clutched at his shoulder, melting against him. “You’re so nice to me.”
“What else would I be?” Buck chuckled as he steered Tommy towards their room. He was just glad that Tommy was a placid, happy drunk–if a little handsy. “Come on big guy, let’s get you to bed.”
It was a struggle to get the door unlocked and Tommy through it with two-hundred odd pounds of boyfriend hanging off him, trying to worm his fingers under Buck’s shirt and breathing hot and damp against the juncture of his neck.
When they finally stumbled inside Tommy starfished onto the bed, the poor old motel mattress groaning in protest beneath his weight.
At least he looked like he wasn’t about to try and get up any time soon.
The soft hum of the window AC unit filled the room, a pleasant contrast to the guitar riffs of the hair bands the bar had played all night. Buck filled up two cups of water, leaving one on his bedside table before settling down on the mattress beside Tommy and nudging him until he sat up.
“Here, drink this,” he said and helped Tommy tilt the glass up to his mouth without spilling it all over himself.
Tommy was pawing at him as soon as Evan’s hands were free. “Evan, Evan–” he said, reaching out to grip Buck’s face with both hands, pulling him closer. The special smile Buck was beginning to learn was just for him, creasing his face. “You wanna hear a secret?”
“Of course, anything,” Buck said, letting himself be manhandled and feeling real goopy and affectionate about it.
“I love you,” Tommy said, with a lot of eye contact and the sort of drunken earnesty that made Buck’s heart just about trip out of his chest. Then Tommy frowned, his gaze going unfocused. “I’m going to be really sad if we break up.”
Buck allowed himself a chuckle at the sudden, unwarranted disappointment in Tommy’s expression. “Me too, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Really?” Tommy asked, perking up.
“Really. I love you too, and I’m going to remind you of that tomorrow when you forget all of this in the morning.”
“I won’t forget,” Tommy insisted.
“Okay, whatever you say, boss.”
Buck went to the bathroom to hit the head and brush his teeth and by the time he returned Tommy had managed to wrestle out of his shoes and his pants, still spread out across the covers in his shirt and socks like a massive toddler. Buck shook his head, ditching his own shirt. Tommy reached out, making grabby hands at him as Buck kicked off his jeans and crawled under the sheets beside him. He was instantly wrapped in an only slightly sticky bear hug.
He pressed a kiss to the cowlick at the top of Tommy’s head. “You’ve got some pretty great friends.”
With more awareness than Buck expected in his current state, Tommy said: “I hope Dave didn’t bother you too much tonight, I could tell he was giving you the third degree for a bit there.”
“Dave and I are cool,” Buck assured. “I’m glad you have guys from back then who’ve still got your back.”
Tommy went quiet for a bit after that and Buck was just figuring out how he was going to wiggle out from beneath his boyfriend without waking him to turn off the lights when Tommy muttered, “I’m glad you came with me. I was tired of coming to these by myself.”
“Any time you want, I’ve got your back too you know,” Buck whispered, holding Tommy tight in the cradle of his arms.
“I know,” Tommy said, and Buck fell asleep to the thump of Tommy’s heartbeat pressed against his own.
157 notes
·
View notes