#he'd be a fuckin menace

[rhythm-of-space]

I just imagine josh doing those weird ass dance moves from across the room to try to make you laugh at the worst time

[ghost-proofbaby]

24h eddie is so the type to be like “do you need me to come fight someone? or come get you?” when you’re just like ranting about a coworker being annoying

“no, unfortunately murder for microwaving tuna in the break room is frowned upon”

i see your scenario and raise you the scenario that prior to all this, he would have absolutely been the annoying coworker who microwaved tuna.

[takamikeiigos]

You and Hawks on a covert stealth mission together, since both your quirks complement each others almost too well. You feel it. He feels it. It's impossible to ignore-

Then things get dicey; some low level grunts making the rounds and walking around the corner. Hawks reacts instantly, as if he's operating on autopilot- grabbing you by the elbow and pushing you into the closest closet he can find

But his wings are so big and the closet is so small... of course he has no choice but to press you up against the wall. For a brief moment, Hawks is shielding you from any form of harm, while caging you in at the same time

Your first instinct is to bristle up in embarrassment; he's just too. Fucking. Close. But the moment you open your mouth to ask him 'What the hell are you doing!?' he's covering your mouth with one of those gloved palms. He brings his free hand up to his own lips and whispers a hushed 'shhh' as the two grunts meander drunkenly past the closet

Even when they're gone, Hawks' shoulders don't loosen up; he's got a new problem now... he kinda likes the feeling of pushing your body up against a wall, even if it was a little cramped in there

imagine: me, poking my head around the corner, foaming at the mouth

THIS. IS. MY. SHIT.

teaming up with hawks works so well for both of you. his speed compliments your strength, something he's admitted lacking. but together you make a strong team, knocking out missions thoroughly and quickly. the hspc had no choice but to teak you two up, nobody works together as wee as you two.

if only they knew about the cloying sexual tension that you and hawks are much too stubborn to act on.

you're both bickering with each other over stupid shit, hawks arguing that chicken is the best food ever, hands down (while you have other preferences), when both stop dead in your tracks.

you've been sent to scope out a building before a raid, lurking in the shadows, undetected to the enemy, when you both hear drunken laughter and a pair of unsteady footsteps approaching.

"are these people for real?" you can't help but whisper, and just as you go to poke your head around the corner, hawks grabs you by the waist and drags you backward.

the fucker drags you into a dark, cramped supply closet to hide when you easily could've taken down whatever drunk idiots that were meandering around outside.

the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and your skin prickles with annoyance. he's so close - chest pressed firmly against yours, and his wings, which occupy at least 80% of the space, are tucked around you like a shield while he tilts his head to listen through the door, oblivious to your discomfort.

and just as you're about to pitch a fit, reaching up and grab him by the shoulder, he throws a gloved hand over your lips and stares at you. there's a gleam of light coming through a crack in the door and it reflects off of his eyes, his amber irises much more terrifying in the dark than they are in daylight.

he brings a finger to his lips, motioning for you to stay quiet.

the two idiots outside linger, hooting and hollering in the hallway, just a few feet away from the door, and with each passing second your irritation boils. not so much with the fact that they're out there, but the fact that hawks has you pressed up against the wall of the closet, the hard line of his chest pressed so firmly to yours, and his thigh pushing into the space between your legs.

he rustles slightly, and the friction between your thighs causes you to hiss. he turns his attention away from the door once more and peers at you in question, annoyed that you keep making noise, only to look down and see the problem for himself.

the cheeky bastard just looks back up at you with a smirk.

-

a few weeks later, you're teamed up again, this time fighting some assholes who are having a little too much fun setting explosions off in the downtown area.

you've managed to subdue one of the villains while hawks flies overhead, preoccupied with evacuating a damaged apartment building.

you tune into your comms as you slap a set of handcuffs over the villain's wrists, unheeding to the absolute hissy-fit the assailant is throwing below you.

"let me know when you get that building cleared. first guy is about to get shipped off, the other one's hiding out somewhere nearby,"

the comm crackles before hawks' voice comes through, much too chipper for your liking this early in the morning.

"maybe your imposing demeanor scared him off. you aren't exactly a morning person, chickadee," he teases, and you swear you can see the playful smirk he's sporting.

you yank the villain to his feet and push him forward toward the swat team that's on standby, once again ignoring his protests.

"not everyone has the energy to spew sunshine and rainbows out of their assholes at 8 o'clock in the morning, hawks."

he laughs brightly over the comms, "yeah, yeah. almost done, here."

you ditch the first villain with the swat team and turn around, heading back in the direction you came from, when a line of consecutive explosions rapidly go off to your right, heading straight for you. you brace yourself for the worst, but suddenly you're flying through the air before colliding with a wall and landing on the ground.

the impact knocks the wind out of you and you cough, caught in a daze as smoke hazes around you. and when you blink through the confusion you realize there's a weight on top of you, pinning you to the ground.

hawks is crouched above you, leaning in low, with his wings spread out in what you guess is either a protective or predatorial stance. he leans back just enough to get a good look at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"we've gotta stop meeting like this," he muses; entertained.

you shove at his shoulder and he laughs. "you say that, hawks, but i'm beginning to think you like pinning me up against things."

-

a month later you aren't actually teamed up on a mission, but attending a ceremony for newly recruited heroes. you stick by each other's sides, set to be a prime example of how hero-duos are supposed to work together - basically eye-candy for the commission to gain clout.

you will admit, you've had a few drinks to take the edge off, and hawks had resorted to being your babysitter this time around.

the speeches are over with and it's social hour, the new recruits making their rounds with their agencies; seasoned pro-heros glad to finally have a moment of free time on their hands.

you finish your glass of champagne and sigh, staring off into the crowd.

"don't get me wrong, i like working with you. but why do we have to be bait for the commission's schemes?" you mutter, tugging at the shoulder of your tailored dress.

hawks reaches forward and takes your empty glass, setting it down on the table you're standing next to.

"probably because we look good together," he inclines, brushing your hand from your shoulder and adjusting the strap of your dress for you. he smooths the fabric down beneath his fingers and moves to adjust the other strap, doing the same until it lays even against your skin.

you cast your gaze to the side, avoiding him, as your cheeks flush.

"not our fault we're good looking.." you mumble.

you've definitely piqued his curiosity, and damn you for letting the alcohol talk.

"you think i'm good looking, huh?" he taunts, leaning in to catch your gaze. you roll your eyes and shove at his shoulder.

"i mean, you've pinned me up against so many surfaces that i've gotten a close enough look. i don't think my eyes would deceive me, hawks."

he laughs. "i'm glad it finally paid off, then. shall we show them what two, deliciously good looking people are capable of on the dancefloor?"

"watch it. you're biting off more than you can chew, pretty bird."

[brennacedria]

IT'S A MOTHER FUCKIN STAR WAR BITCHES

[jackal-202]

thinking about Obi-Wan Kenobi in a phantom menace

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

[l13]

Hi 👋🏻

Idk why but I'm having a hard time thinking about anything else but soft Ghost...

Like don't get me wrong, getting destroyed in bed to the point of tears, with or without several other hard kinks is a mouthwatering thought, BUT

Thinking about Ghost being an absolute menace and scaring everyone around the base and field with his reputation alone ... But then being the sweetest and most gentle giant in bed cause there's no need to have that hard exterior/imagine on ... Idk it does things to me

Do you know what i mean?! 🤭❤️

nsfw mdni!

"Slow, baby, slow," ghost's hand on your waist tightens when you roll your hips against him, wanting more from the pace he'd set, so desperately needing him to just fuck you already but he's clicking his tongue, his other hand grabbing yours to intertwine your fingers together. "What's the rush?" he murmurs against your cheek, planting a soft kiss there right after

"I wanna feel you, Simon.." he snaps his hips harder against you at your words, and you grasp at his shoulders, your mouth open in a silent scream, "Can y'feel me now?"

he moans at the way you tighten up in response, his gaze flicking down to watch the way your pussy keeps sucking him in, "C'mon talk to me baby.. Don't you like this?" his thrusts are slooow, but so fucking deep, and the grinds of his hips have you seeing stars. You cross your legs over his ass then, to pull him deeper inside you, if that was even possible, whining against his temple, "I do, I love it.." and he hums, tilting his head up to talk against your lips,

"Wanna take m'time with you, lovie.. Y'feel so fuckin' good,"

[logansdoll]

Heyyy it would be awesome if you wrote a third part for “37” where Charles gives Logan’s memories back and we go through flashbacks of some of his best memories, his wedding, the day his kids were born…something like that, it would be very heartwarming 🥰🥰🥰 or even maybe coming back from the past and seeing his kids again

sunflower

part three of "37"

CW: fluffy fluff, all the feels, suggestive, profanity, takes place after the events of Days Future Past, very bittersweet, your daughter's a lil menace, your son's a lil cutie pie, angst if you squint, i never know how to end these things, etc.

"Logan, the mind is a fickle thing," Charles sighed, resting his hands on his desk with a solemn look. "I can't possibly guarantee that this will work, much less in one session—" "I don't care how long it takes."

Logan's face drew tight with the statement, his patience visibly wearing thin.

He'd been listening to the same bullshit for twenty minutes...

"I don't care if I need a hundred different fuckin' sessions. I'm gettin' these memories back," he spelled out, leaning forward in his seat and roughly tapping his finger on the desk. "It doesn't make any damn sense. This body's been in this timeline for fifty-fuckin'-years and it doesn't remember shit."

"Because it is your consciousness that is the problem, Logan," Charles groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That is what I've been trying to tell you."

Logan piped down for a moment, brows knitting together as he leaned back in his seat, taking an annoyed drag of his cigar.

"Your psyche is from a completely different timeline, and now resides in a completely different body. It's like asking to recall the memories of a random person walking down the street," the professor explained, again.

Sadly, he hung his head, greatly sorry for the misfortune of his friend.

"I wish there was something I could do, Logan. Truly. But I'm afraid it just can't be done."

But Logan didn't buy it.

Huffing a small plume of smoke out his nose, he glanced out the window, catching sight of you teaching a class on the lawn.

Using your powers, you grew a large sunflower out from the ground, the younger kids marveling at the sight as you began pointing out its anatomy, most of them enamored by the huge petals—which were bigger than their little six year-old frames.

And in a small pause in time, your eyes flitted up to meet his through the window, that heart-stopping smile finding its way onto your lips as you gave him a tiny wave.

It warmed him, experiencing your light for the first time in years without the threat of annihilation on the horizon.

Domesticity like this is something he'd craved all his life, and now that he had it in his grasp, he wasn't going to settle for anything less.

A stilling chill descended on his chest at the thought of your smile, and the countless others he'd missed.

Your tears of joy when he proposed.

Your frazzled excitement with the wedding planning.

Your radiance as you walked down the aisle.

He missed it all.

And he'd be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to try and get it back.

"Charles..." Logan started, stamping out his cigar in a nearby ashtray. "My whole life is standin' out there under that tree... and I can't remember a goddamn thing about her after 1973."

His tone turned cold, eyes sharp as he stared the professor down.

"I don't care if you have to rip my head in half... I'm gettin' those memories back."

The old man let out a sigh, accepting that going on like this would bring no other outcome.

He'd have to give the man what he wanted... consequences be damned.

'Let's hope he survives...'

"This will be violent," Charles stated off-rip, wheeling himself out from behind his desk. "I am essentially hammering your mind like a dam, making cracks in its defenses until it eventually gives way."

Logan nodded, watching as the man settled in front of him, raising his two fingers to his temple.

"Now... try not to move."

Logan shut his eyes, and in an instant, it felt as if his head was struck by a speeding train.

He let out a growl of pain as images began to flash behind his eyes, the next one always coming quicker than the last.

"Hon, which color do you think would go best with my complexion? Eggshell or Porcelain?" you asked, eagerly holding up two different swatches against your skin.

"You look beautiful in anything, baby," he stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Either one is fine."

"As sweet as that is... it doesn't help," you huffed, playfully attempting to scold him.

"Fine then. Eggshell," he answered, quickly.

You raised a brow, an amused smile playing at your lips as you leaned in closer, "Are you just saying that to get me to shut up?"

He let out a chuckle, resting his forehead against yours, "Never."

Yes...

"Can't wait 'til this damn reception is over," he growled in your ear, lips dragging down your neck as you both hid in a nearby hallway. "First time I've been alone with you since I do."

"Logan..." you gasped, tucking your lip between your teeth in an attempt to muffle yourself as he tightly grasped your hips. "Someone'll hear..."

"Then I guess you better keep quiet," he smirked against your skin, giving your collarbone a soft nip.

It's all coming back...

"Logan..." you started, nervously, hands held firmly behind your back. "I have something to tell you... and I'm open to talk about it if you're upset..."

His brows furrowed as he turned away from his dresser, looking toward you with an air of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his protective instinct spiking at the sight of your fearful expression. "What happened?"

Unable to say it, you slowly held up your hand, revealing a positive pregnancy test.

His eyes widened like saucers, throat drying at the tiny piece of plastic.

"You're... pregnant?"

You nodded, silently, his reaction not soothing your anxiety one bit.

But, as if on cue, he moved toward you, striding across the room and pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm gonna be a father..." he muttered into your hair, the phrase not one he thought he'd ever hear. "I'm gonna be a father..."

Wait...

"Logan!" you cried, tears welling in your eyes as you glanced up at him, scared. "I can't...mmmph fuck!... I can't do it! Hurts too much!"

"C'mon, baby, keep pushin'. You're doin' so good," he cooed, swiping stray strands of hair out your face as the nurse on the other side of the bed helped cheer you on. "Just a little bit more. You're right there."

With a grunt, you squeezed his hand tight, letting out a growl of pain as you gave another push.

Pop!

Logan's eyes shot wide, the man nearly biting through his tongue as he glanced down at his hand.

You dislocated his finger.

Though it seemed to be worth it as that final push was what did it.

"It's a girl!" the doctor smiled, carefully holding up the newborn.

Looking upon her small, chubbed face, Logan felt a sense of protectiveness sink into his chest—one that he only felt when things came to you.

In that moment, and every moment after that, he knew he would lay his life down for her, no question.

And she wasn't even a minute old yet.

I have—

"James! Get back here!" a little girl squealed with laughter, bursting into the office after a little boy, who looked terrified.

Logan snapped out his head with a gasp, shooting up from his seat and unsheathing his claws out of muscle memory.

'James...'

Quickly, Logan retracted his claws as the boy ducked behind his leg, gripping tightly onto his jeans as the girl stormed over.

She looked just like you, save for a few small details, and had a small snaggle-tooth poking out on her right side, only adding to her adorableness.

Not to mention the bone claws she had protruding from her knuckles.

"No fair! You can't hide behind Dad every time you're scared!" she furrowed her brows, upset.

"Mommy told you about your claws, Laura..." James mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as he shyly peeked out from behind his human shield.

'Laura...'

The boy was Logan's mirror image, looking almost exactly like he did at that age..

Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree...

Charles could sense the pieces clicking in Logan's mind, and figured lending a hand would be best after what he'd been through.

"Logan, these are your—" "Laura Marie Howlett!" your voice cut in, the little girl flinching at the sound.

Quickly, she retracted her claws, whipping around with a guilty smile, which was met by your less-than-approving glare.

"What have I told you about chasing your brother inside? And what have I told you about using your claws to do it?" you scolded, walking into the office. "You two are interrupting your father and Professor Xavier."

Logan let out a soft sigh, taking the moment to finally look over his family.

Like a slow moving stream, things were coming back to him, the feeling like a fog clearing from the recesses of his mind.

Every birthday.

Every boo-boo.

Every first.

Slowly but surely, they were all returning.

Without warning, Logan dropped to his knees, pulling the two kids into a tight hug, fiercely fighting off the emotion swelling in his chest.

"Daddy?" James squeaked, concerned.

"Are you okay?" Laura asked, confused.

He nodded, silently, the sight making your heart both burst and ache.

After all this time, your husband was truly whole.

Fifty years of suffering and agony had finally come to an end.

taglist !!

@catiwinky @seamlessepiphany @vinaluvsu @kellyxo1 @amandarobertsboyce  @captainloki1 @qveendiorsworld @sarahskywalker-amidala @mei-simp @oatmilkriver @br3nt-12 @bimboshaggy @lightsgore @edszn @couturewinx @sunroxic @notanotheroldman @bontensbabygirl @buckleysg1rl @marvelgirlie-4 @eljaynosine-triphosphate @nickf1 @pinkisokay @mercurysjoy

[erwinsvow]

bitchy!reader being jealous at a party when she sees rafe talking to some girl and then finding out its a girl he has either slept with in the past or shes been all over him since before they were toghether. Reader makes a scene calling her out for being all over her man

yess but bitchy reader is a menace, she doesnt care abt any girls but she'll be soo mean to rafe abt it😭😭 this has to be pre-dating bc she would never let rafe disrespect her like that & he knows not to

when you catch rafe's eyes again, you feel a familiar sense of self-satisfaction course through your veins. of course he's looking—he should be surprised he can even look away.

you always look great, but today is something special, a pretty strapless dress decorating your body, something similar to the color of rafe's eyes. so, like always, it's no wonder he can't look away.

but you can't let the bastard think he's got you thinking about how often he is looking at you. it's all very confusing, so you don't glance back, trying to stay engrossed in your conversation with your friends. a few drinks and thirty minutes later, your eyes travel back to rafe.

and though he is still looking at you, there's some other girl in front of him, talking to him. the girl you recognize, someone who used to frequent tannyhill. on more than one occasion she's wandered down the kitchen when you and sarah are making waffles and sipping overpriced coffee. when you'd seen her, she'd been in rafe's clothes.

you hadn't cared much then, treated her the same you'd treat anyone. even now, with the girl in front of him trying to capture his attention and the idiot's eyes still on you, you feel the same—mildly annoyed at her, beyond irritated at him.

he thinks he can make you jealous. it's even cute that he's trying. this time you do stare back at rafe, a little annoyed at yourself for thinking about how cute he looks today. you like him in blue, you like that he's matching you.

"why are you staring at my brother?" sarah questions, and you smile in his direction.

"get your shit straight, sarah. he's staring at me." you wave at rafe, smiling sweetly before looking away. you don't have to see his face to know how it fell at your reaction.

"ugh. now he's coming over here. i'm not sticking around for this." you direct your smile at sarah.

"who asked you to stay?" she rolls her eyes at you.

"match made in heaven," she mutters, walking away in the other direction. when rafe approaches you, you stay seated on the couch, sipping your drink and observing your nails. they're baby blue—and you wonder how you'd come to that decision in the salon yesterday. of course, you know the answer.

"what the hell was that?" rafe barks, and you resist the eyeroll for as long as you can. last time he said if you rolled them at him again, he'd slap them out of your head, and though you want to test his theory, you'd prefer it in the privacy of his bedroom.

"just saying hi, rafe. you know i've met that poor girl before, at tannyhill. i'm surprised you even let her sleep over, you seem like the type-"

"can you shut up about her? what the hell was-"

"you already said that. and why would i shut up? you're the one yapping away to her. you know, you must be great in bed."

"excuse me?"

"i mean, you treat a girl that shitty and she's still willing to speak to you? she must remember something good. but knowing you it can't be for the conversation."

"..thanks?"

"you're welcome." you glance up at him again, but your eyes track back to the girl watching the two of you, the one he left behind to come talk to you. "i know you're a dick but don't be a dick. go finish talking to her. it's rude."

"i don't wanna talk to her."

"well, you're not talking to me."

"d'you have to make everything so fuckin' hard?"

"you're the one trying to make me jealous by talking to some poor girl! did you think i'd appreciate that?"

"why can't you just get jealous like you're supposed to?"

"you are such a jackass. maybe if you acted, like, a normal person-"

"oh, you're one to fuckin' talk. normal person my ass. you cuss me out every chance you get-"

"stop engaging in behavior that gets you cussed out then."

"shut up."

"you shut up!"

you both stare at each other for a moment.

"you wanna come to tannyhill with me?"

"yeah. let's go."

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"stay, please" ft. the monster trio!

in which, nightmares plague them and you're the only remedy ft. luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader set-up: late night nightmares give way to very vulnerable boyfriends i see (i couldnt bring myself to pick sad gifs for them tho, idk use your imagination) warnings: none!! wholesome shit all day every day :) m.list

luffy:

- luffy is always a heavy sleeper - no, like quite literally - he sleeps on you like a log, unmoving until you're physically shoving him off and throwing him off the bed - so, in the dead of the night, when he pulled you closer against his chest and held you tighter, you simply assumed it was no big deal - but his hands are tightening around your waist, his breath seems laboured and as you throw him a glance over your shoulders, you see his brows furrowed together as if he was in pain - "yn, no. yn-" his voice sounds distraught, hands trembling against your figure "luffy?" you whisper, gently putting your arm over his, "luffy, hey?" - his breath seems more laboured, as if it hurts just to breathe - you were shaking him awake, "luffy, wake up, come on" - when he did, his eyes were teary and he buried his head into your hair. relief flooded his voice as he kept holding onto you, "you're okay right?" "ofcourse i am. are you?" "i-" he sneaks in a quick breath and then looks at you, "yeah" - you run your hand up and down his arm gently, other coming to rest on his cheek, "nightmare?" - he stays silent for a second, just looking at you. then he whispers, "i thought i lost you" "i'm right here" you flash him a small smile, chasing it with a small peck on his lips, "i promise" "you promise?" his features stay unmoving, still grim "i promise" you're rubbing soothing circles on his cheek - a second passes before either of you speaks up. it's him who does. - he presses his hands over yours and whispers slowly, "stay with me, please" "i wouldn't be caught dead anywhere else" - and then he's picking you up, "we're awake and im hungry so might as well-" - he made you help him raid the pantry and feed him emergency snacks to soothe him again - one of these days, sanji's gonna put a biometric scanner at the kitchen door and luffy's gonna go feral - that is your version of doomsday - what a menace i love him

zoro:

- it was a sickening routine as far as you remembered. you hated it to your very core and yet, you couldn't do anything as it played out - every once in a while, when the fates were a little too cruel, zoro would slip out of the bed, careful not to wake you up. - he'd slowly close the door behind him, stepping out onto the chilly deck - it wouldn't take you long to notice the abrupt coldness next to you where zoro should have been - and you would usually walk out and find him peering at the sea, tension etched into every muscle - your hands would wrap around his waist and you would press your face against his sculpted back. you would feel his body ease under your familiar touch, the tension fading away and leaving behind another young man "zo'" you would whisper, "'nother nightmare?" and he would just gave you a curt nod - that's how it usually went. he wouldn't elaborate, he would just hold onto you till all his worries slipped past him and then he'd carry you back to bed - he wouldn't bring it up again in the morning and it was a silent agreement that you wouldn't either - but today, his body shivered, trembling against your feather-like touches "zoro?" you're panicking, turning him to look at you, "zo' are you cry-" - he pulls you towards himself, his head on top of yours, "i thought i fuckin' lost you i-" you bury yourself against him, "i'm right here, look" "you wouldn't leave right?" his voice is gentle, "i- you'd stay by my side, right? please" - you look up at him, pressing a kiss on his cheek, "ofcourse i will. where else would i go?" he gives a small smile, "wherever you go, stay away from that shitty cook" "ah, don't worry. you can ensure that by showering for once" "oh, really?" he scoffs playfully, "only if you join me" - he carries your blushing figure into the room and you fall asleep with him tangled against you - you did take him up on the showering together offer tho, ur a slave to the temptations of the flesh it seems

sanji:

- honest to god, i believe he is the kind of guy who doesn't wake you up - but over the years, youve caught onto the pattern - it's always the days where he either sneaks off into the kitchen, saying that there's just some recipe he thought of that he needs to try or he sits in the bed, silently basking in the venomous thoughts - some nights, you feel his warmth pull away and he's sitting beside you, back against the headboard - his breath is laboured and his eyes are screwed shut as he tips his head backwards - your hand is on his knee, grounding him back to reality "sanji?" you mumble as you sit up, "you okay?" "did i wake you up?" he mumbles back with a look of concern, "im sorry, my love" - but you're already settling in between his legs, your back flush against his chest. you bring his hand and intertwine it with your own, bringing it to your lips to press a small kiss - it ends with you talking about something else to get his mind off the bullshit "what if we have like 4 moons and we don't know?" "i don't think that scientifically possible, darling" "anything's possible. never say never." - on nights you find him in the kitchen, you silently walk in there and sit on the kitchen counter, asking him what he's cooking - you entertain him with mundane bullshit as he cooks - 9/10 you fall asleep in the kitchen and he has to carry you back - cooks you the same dish later again cause while he was carrying you back, luffy stormed into the kitchen, ate whatever it was and fell asleep on the fucking kitchen floor. - sanji's considering putting a biometric scanner at the kitchen door now

m.list

[wtfsteveharrington]

I need a just the tip smut with richie jerimovich

a/n: richie my beloved <3 thank you for requesting!!

contents: richie's a menace and badgering the reader in a playful way, unprotected p in v, fingering, semi public (we all love that damn office), reader referred to as princess once. when i say this is a quickie i mean it!

word count: 1,420 (lol)

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

Richie annoyed you - A lot. Constantly annoyed you in fact!

And things haven’t improved since you made out with in the heat of the moment a few months ago. Arguing outside the restaurant after a particularly rough dinner service. He blamed the way you ran front of house, you blamed him for sending table 18’s second course to table 31 (which he promises he didn’t do) and throwing off the flow of the kitchen.

There was a moment when the arguing turned to silence and the two of you staring at each other. Both trying to read the moment. You still don't know who moved first but it was passionate, sloppy, and seared into your memory.

Thus began a mess of touching and kissing when you shouldn't be. It hadn't gone all the way yet, much to Richie's dismay. The closest he got was eating you out in the backseat of his car which you promptly left after you finished and flipped him off as you skipped to your own car. Richie had to drive home hard and annoyed and teasingly gave you a cold shoulder the next day but you'd catch a wicked grin on his face whenever he turned away from you. Both of you loved this game.

You secretly loved the power it gave you when he'd beg and whine and grab any inch of skin you'd let him. Rutting himself against you, shamelessly needy. You made him feel like a teenager again. Stuck with the urge to fold his pillow around his length and fuck into it to get some source of friction besides his hand. It made him feel pathetic and you feel pride.

He loved it too, don't let him lie to you.

That's how you found yourself in the nice office, hips pressed against the edge of the desk while Richie stood behind you. His hands were cupping your breasts over your shirt, savoring the weight of them in his hands while he grinds against your ass. You, on the other hand, try to act unbothered while you look over paperwork even if the both of you know it's getting to you. Thighs turning slick and warm and God he feels good.

“C’mon, Babe. My dick is fuckin’ rock solid. Help me out, yeah? Don’t you want me focused for tonight or are you really gonna let everyone drown because you won’t help take care of ole Richie?” He’s grabbing a hold of the hem of your skirt, pushing it up at your waist and admiring the way your ass looked covered in some white lacey number you totally didn’t buy with the hopes of him seeing it.

You huff and pretend to be inconvenienced but you're reaching the end of your resolve too. Letting go of the papers you were hyper focused on and instead sliding your hands around your body and pulling your underwear to the side so he, finally, has access to you. There's a loud, drawn out groan coming from the man behind you which has you whipping your head around with a sharp, "Shut the fuck up, Richie."

He's looking up at you now and innocently holds his hands up in the air as an apology. There's wicked smirk as one of his hands come down to trace over your core. A rough finger dragging along the folds, bumping your clit before he presses two into you. "Knew you wanted me too, Princess." You can't help but roll your eyes, still adjusting your position on the desk so you're better able to arch your ass back towards him. "Just the tip."

Richie's motions stall, brows knitting together. "You fuckin' serious?" Which makes you laugh while you roll your hips back, chasing your own pleasure by using his hand that's still against your warm core. "Serious. Now - Just the tip and hurry up before we get caught. Think I'd die if anyone knew I was letting you fuck me raw in here."

His hand slides out of you and delivers a sharp smack to your pussy before he's taking your command and making quick work of his pants. Fine, if you wanted to play this game still he'd make sure to drive you just as insane as you were driving him.

You feel the head of his cock tapping against you now, teasing the both of you by rocking himself against your clit. "You're tryna give me shit but you're this fuckin' wet? Bent over the desk and begging. Play tough all you want but you need me."

"Jesus Christ, Richie. Are you gonna keep running your mouth or fin- Oh!" He's cutting you off as you feel him push into you. The head of his cock barely tucked between your folds as you both adjust to the sensation. He's giving you a second before pushing in another in, letting the tip of him rest snug inside of you.

Richie's rubbing his hands over your ass, the texture difference between your smooth skin and the lace of your underwear driving him crazy. Fine, maybe he was clowning you at first but there's something so... Intimate about this. Or maybe you just already had him whipped and he was hopeless.

He's fucking into you just barely, fully content to play along if that’s what it took to finally find himself inside of you.

There’s a pounding on the door snapping you both out of it. Richie’s startled and accidentally sinking a few more inches into you, both of you fighting every urge to moan. “Dinner service starts in twenty! Finish up your paperwork and get out here!”

You're in the clear. No door handle jiggling, no one barging in.

Everyone knew you took some time right before dinner to ensure there were no missed allergies, reservations, and nothing running short. Everyone knew Richie would take off his suit jacket so it didn't smell like smoke before taking a few minutes out back to burn through some cig's. Splashing on cologne from his car before coming back in. They all probably assumed he was somewhere in that circuit out back.

But yet, here you two actually were.

The two of you stand there, still connected, in silence for a moment. Making sure the coast is clear before continuing this already risky game. Once a few seconds have passed, neither of you know quite what to do.

So you take the initiative.

Rolling your hips back and fucking yourself on the few inches Richie has managed to sink into you. His hands are on your ass now, pulling it apart so he can get a better look at the head of his cock slowly pushing in and out of you. Neither of you dare make too loud of a sound.

Your head falls forward, pressing your mouth against your upper arm to muffle any sounds that threaten to slip out when Richie pulls all the way back just to resink himself halfway in. It's a quick motion but the sound of him just barely gliding through your wetness was sinful. Richie's torn between throwing his head back and savoring the sensation or focusing on what's happening right in front of him, "Fuck you, gonna make me come like this." He's squeezing at the handfuls of your ass, fighting the urge to bury himself completely but knows that isn't your game for now.

You can feel his resolve breaking so you decide to prolong this game. Giving him a squeeze of your muscles around his cock before leaning all the way forward so Richie has to slide out of you. His jaw goes slack and you hear a breathless whine from behind you as he instantly wraps a fist around himself to keep the feeling going. Your underwear are getting put back in place, skirt being folded down as you grab a towel from the pile of clean laundry in the corner of the office and hand it to him with a smirk. "Use this to finish in, don't make a mess of your suit."

Richie can't decide if he loathes you or wants to kiss the ground you walk on. You lean up, letting your lips work his jaw for a moment as you feel the head of his cock press against your thigh while he continues to jack himself off. "Don't fuck up tonight and I'll let you come home with me."

You pull back, throwing him a wink before sneaking out of the office door to go clean yourself up before dinner service. Leaving Richie standing there fucking himself into a rag and laughing at the mess you've made of him.

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

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[princessbrunette]

let em know by bryson tiller is so ex bf!rafe coded,

like the lyrics "im coming back for good so let em know its mine" (drooling on my phone) and "thinking shit like who's out there fuckin' you and who's keeping you comfortable?"

he'd be losing his fucking mind bruh☠️☠️

୨🫖�� ⏜ ♡̶

you could always feel rafe breathing over your shoulder, even after you’d broken up. if your phone were to ding with a text, often times you wouldn’t even have to look at the screen to know who it was — some form of ‘Who is this and why did he just follow you on instagram?’ text from your ex boyfriend himself. he was jealous, somehow more possessive than when you were together, and obsessed. as much as he was a menace who more often than not made your life difficult, you had trouble letting him go.

you’d awoken from an evening nap to your phone ringing, picking it up and pressing it to your ear with your eyes half open, not even checking who it was.

“hello?”

“i’m coming over, alright? if you got a guy over i uh, really suggest you kick him out ‘fore i come in there and make a scene.”

you blink yourself awake, pushing up onto your elbow. “rafe?”

“yeah, it’s me. what, you delete my name from your contacts or some shit?” he drawls, and your ears tune into the faint rumble of his background noise— telling you he really was in the car on the way to your house.

“no… i just woke up.” you sigh, sitting up fully. “why are you coming here? told you to stop doing that.”

“i actually don’t give a fuck what you told me, alright — i’m— i’m comin’ to claim what’s rightfully mine. okay? that’s you, by the way. i don’t know who’s been keepin’ you fucked and fed or whatever but i’m not letting that shit run anymore, okay — you’re mine. i’ll be there in five, be ready.”

you’re not given a chance to decline, or respond for that matter because he hangs up— leaving you disorientated and sleepy on your lonesome. there’s still that obedience in you, and you find yourself pushing up to your feet, wiping beneath your eyes as you prepare to let him inside.

୨🫖୧ ⏜ ♡̶

[haruchi-slit]

WE FIGHT WE BREAK UP, WE KISS WE MAKE UP!

TOJI FUCKING FUSHIGURO!

You had a heated argument with your boyfriend, and the reason's dumb but not really at the same time, he's jealous of your guy co-worker, for taking you to lunch, well no, not really he took you and your other co-workers to lunch cause it's his birthday after all,but that's not what Toji heard from your female co-worker, what a snake!

"You- fuckin' whore, you r-realy think i wouldn't know?" Toji's breath hitched as he drilled his dick in you, "ngh- told you, that it's not what you fucking- think asshole!" you hissed trying to suppress your moans cause you'd knew that if you don't it'll just boost Toji's fucking ego, "Awh trynna suppress your moans huh?, that wouldn't last long you cunty fuckin'- ngh slut" he pulls out his dick and flipped you over, slamming his thick cock in your ass "T-Toji nnn~!" you screamed, but he just responded with a smug smirk, he'd knew you wouldn't last and he knew your weak spots, he pulled your hair back as he whispers on how he's going to get you pregnant and what positions he'd fuck you, " 'm gonna fuck you in missionary, get you fuckin' pregnant, so you won't fuck around with somebody else,yeah?" all you can do is whimper and cry, "Tojii- Fuck you told you it's not what you think!" you tried to explain, but he pulled your hair harder and grabbed your arms together at the back, bucking his hips harder and faster,

what a menace.

"Think I'm gonna believe you, you slut?" "just listen-nn~ Toji- Toji hngh!" "I dare you, explain while i fuck the shit outta you" he mused, knowing you'll not be able to talk, but just whimper and moan.

toxic ain't it? "pleasee- Toji!" moan after moan,tugging on his defined back, decorating deep scratches on it, he slams your delicate body on the soft mattress of your shared bed, crawling up to you- your mouth was full of your saliva, drool on the sides of your lips, god you can't think straight anymore! Toji went between your thighs,his breath getting heavier than usually fanning your slick folds,"where's my brave lil' girl hmm?, c'mon babe show me what you got" he couldn't get enough of embarrassing you, seeing your red face,makes him even more turned on,he sees your perked nipples and lounges his mouth right onto it massaging your other nipple,

your head has literally on cloud nines, forgotten that you had to explain to Toji,

"T-oji- 's toooo much- please!"

"awh don't cry sweet cheeks, we're not even halfway thru your punishment~"

a/n: i got lazy half way thru it lmaoo, do you guys want part two?? sukuna's favorite concubine pt. 4 and also, higuruma content coming up!

[brewed-pangolin]

Imagine what a menace Soap would be with these

Challenged Territory

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Explicit Smut, P in V, Soap getting all territorial over silly bruises, cue the Scottish bear

Synopsis: You play a round of rapid fire which ends with a quick session. But those bruises forming ignite the primal side of Soap and he takes it upon himself to mark you as his own

Okay. Call me crazy but I'm for damn sure Soap MacTavish puts play dates down on the calendar.

Just like date nights, movie nights, and camping weekends. Play dates are a must to keep the relationship fresh and full of vigor, especially when he's gone for extended periods of time.

And these little blasters are right up his alley.

But he'd want a fair fight, so expect to be taken to the range a few times to perfect that aim and steady your hand.

Once he's satisfied with your skill level, all hell breaks lose and he ain't holding back.

Your only indication that he's put the game into play will be your blaster on your bedside table. With him already staking out his perfect sniping position as you mentally prepare for the fire fight about to ensue.

And it always ends the same way. Both naked, breathless, and entangled on the living room floor as you tally up who got the most shots to the ass.

And those circular bruises growing on your flesh are nothing compared to the reddened handprint plastered on your left butt cheek.

--

"You can't count-, those slaps-, as hits, Soap," you muttered. A groggy whimper echoing off your tongue.

"Haud yer wheesht, lass. Beat ya by a solid 20. Easily"

"Pfft. 20's pushing it, trigger man."

"Doubt it. Cannae miss hittin' tha sweet ass a'yers."

You shoved your elbow into the center of his chest with a boisterous laugh, forcing a rumbling groan from his throat as he turned you onto your back and caged you beneath his muscular and gel tattered form.

"Ya wanna go 'nother round?" He asked with an excited growl. Eyes brimming in cerulean conquest as a curling smile formed on his kiss ravaged lips.

"Why? You clearly already beat me."

"Wasn't talkin' bout the game, bonnie," he purred lowly. His Scottish brogue thick as molasses as he pressed the bulbous tip of his cock against your wet and silken entrance.

"Feelin' a bit outdone by yer bruises. Need ta add some a'me own. Gotta-," he halted with a groan. Voice catching in his throat as he pushed between your folds and gradually pumped his hardened length into the welcoming walls of your cunt.

You rolled your eyes with a muffled moan, arching your back off the floor to assist in his entry as he glacially thrusted himself until fully seated.

"Johnny," you whimpered. Mouth open with a silent moan as your greedy walls clenched around him.

"I know, bonnie. Yer always so fuckin' tight fer me, aren't ya?" He growled as he encapsulated his mouth over your lips.

Devouring your moans before pulling away. Grabbing tightly at the flesh of your hips as he flared his chest and moved to sit on his haunches.

"Gonnae fuckin' wreck ya, lass."

The bellow that echoed in his brogue sent a spiraling shiver down your spine. Causing you to pulse around him as he hoisted your legs up and rest over his shoulders.

Clawing your nails along the floor for purchase as he pistoned his hips against your ass in a primal and aggressive thrust.

"Johnny!" You wailed, followed by a breathless gasp. Chest heaving, breasts bouncing as your body undulated with the waves of inertia from his forceful drives.

"Tha's it. Gonnae mark ya. Make ya mine. Make ya scream fer me."

Your body went into overdrive as he continually pistoned his cock into your aching cunt. Mind going nearly blank except for one thought that rolled around behind your eyes.

Soap saw those circular marks as a challenge, even if they were done so by his own hand. His need to mark you, claim you as his own pushed him into his primal state as he gripped with measured force into the supple flesh of your thighs.

And you loved it. The growls emanating from the caverns of his chest. The crazed yet loving glare in his eyes as he marked his territory with every throbbing plunge of his cock.

You'd carry those bruises with pride the next morning as you gazed at your figure in the mirror. The only change you'd make is the location. The bruises you loved. The rug burn, not so much.

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