#i've wanted to write a fic like this for ages so thank you anon for letting me share my idea!!!! i hope you like it!

[lovebugism]

Hi! Could I pls request a Steve x shy!reader drabble? Maybe they’re a bit of a bookworm and they have a meet cute at a library or bookstore or something ☺️ I love your fics, and I hope you’re having a good day! 💛

i've been working on this wip for ages but i loved this request too much not to finish! thanks for being patient with me anon!

summary: steve hopeless romantic harrington meets shy!reader at a bookstore and fluffy awkwardness ensues (meet cute, strangers to lovers-ish, fluff, 2.1k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Five hours go by like minutes, tucked away in the back of the library — your own little corner of the world. 

Because all your spare cash went to groceries and good food (and the newest Margaret Atwood novel just dropped), you hide in the back of the bookstore and get lost in the nostalgic earthy scent of the thick pages you’ve been waiting ages to read. 

You sit between the dystopian and gothic fiction aisles, back propped against the former with your knees folded to your chest, and speed-read as much as you can before closing.

The in-store café offers complimentary coffee and bagels. It’s lukewarm and a little cardboard-y, but it’s fuel nonetheless. You only get up once to use the bathroom and stretch your stiff limbs. Other than that very brief break, you’re relatively unbothered — until page 196, anyway.

“Where are the porno mags?” a male voice wonders from a few aisles down. It’s not the first voice you’ve heard all day, but it’s certainly the closest.

A feminine voice follows, nearer now. “There’s no porn, dingus. I was just saying that so you’d drive me here.”

“…That’s so fucked up.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“No, actually. I won’t. This might be the end of our friendship, now that I think about it.”

Their conversation draws closer and closer to you in time with their nearing footsteps. You figure they must be looking for a different section — certainly not the one you’ve had to yourself all day — but then they turn the corner of the aisle and stop short when they find you sitting there.

“Oh,” a pretty girl hums as she stares down at you, rouge mouth forming a softly pouted ‘o’ shape. 

Her hair is a sandy color, like a beach, and it’s chopped at her shoulders. She wears a pair of slacks and suspenders over an oversized button-up. She looks like a character from a book you wish you could write. 

She smiles down at you, a tad bit awkwardly. “Hello…”

“Shit— ” you curse, scrambling to get your legs out of the aisle. Your face burns as you bring your knees back to your chest. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries,” she shrugs and walks on by you. 

A pretty boy follows.

His hair is a really specific shade of brown — like chocolate syrup mixed with honey. It’s pushed back over his forehead, messy with intention. A few strands hang over his thick brows like they’re meant to be there. He’s got a layer of scruff on his chiseled jaw that’s a shade lighter than his actual hair. 

His wide eyes are a similar chocolate-syrup-honey color.

He’s almost annoyingly pretty. The kind of pretty that seems unfair.

“Don’t apologize to her,” the pretty boy jokes with a lopsided smile. “She’s a total bully.”

The pretty girl interjects. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot. And stop bothering her, dingus— she’s obviously trying to read.”

You breathe out an awkward laugh through your nose. 

You don’t want them to think you’re actually annoyed, but you don’t have the words to tell them that. You have no idea what to say to them, actually. They’re obviously far cooler than you are, and the notion almost threatens you.

The pretty boy doesn’t follow his pretty friend. He lets her roam the aisle, obviously in search of something, and leans against the gothic fiction section across from you.

“So, uh… What are you reading?” he asks.

You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, lest the words get stuck in your throat and make you sound like Kermit the Frog. You flash him the dystopic, renaissance painting-esque cover with a tightlipped smile.

“Handmaid’s Tale,” he reads with a squint, then nods. “Sounds fun.”

“It’s not,” the pretty girl scoffs. She thumbs through her own copy of the book that she plucked from the shelf. “It’s the one I was telling you about on the way over.”

The pretty boy’s face screws up in disgust. “Oh. The one with gross men?”

“The one with the gross men.”

He turns back to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I take it back. Not fun.”

You smile wordlessly in response.

“He’s Steve, by the way,” the pretty girl says to you, nodding to the pretty boy. “I figured if he’s gonna keep weirdly hovering over you, you should probably know his name—”

“I’m not hovering!”

“—You can call him dingus if you want. I’m Robin.”

“Hi,” you greet, quiet and mousy.

“Do you come around here often?” the boy — Steve — wonders, bushy brows pinched and burly arms crossed over his chest. “I feel like I’ve seen you before—”

“Ugh. Stop flirting with her.”

“I’m asking a question!”

You purse your lips to the side in attempts to hide your smile and your gaze back to your book. 

They argue like a married couple. You wonder how long they’ve been together — six months or six years?

“Sorry about him. He’s not usually this annoying,” Robin quips with a playful twinkle in her deep ocean eye. She slams the book closed with a ringed handand walks back towards you. She pushes Steve ahead and away from you in the process. “Alright, I got the goods. Let’s go before they close.”

Your eyes widen as you look down at your wrist. 

Ten minutes until eight o’clock. 

You turn to the book once more and find that you’re about a hundred pages shy from the end of it. You tend to read like a maniac if you’re focused enough, but there’s no way you’re finishing it before closing.

“Shit…”

“You okay?” Steve asks, still lingering at the very end of the aisle, though Robin has already left for check-out.

You rise and straighten out your clothes — the very un-special sweatshirt and baggy jeans duo you’d changed into after work. It’s not unlike the navy blue henley and similarly colored denim he’s got on, but you don’t look nearly as pretty as he does.

“Yeah,” you shrug, not quite meeting his gaze as you return the book that feels like it only fits in your hands. “I just— I didn’t realize how late it was.”

You don’t expect to see Steve looking so concerned when you turn back to him. His brows are furrowed, honey eyes glinting in question. “You’re not getting it? You looked like you were almost done.”

“Oh, I don’t— I can’t…” you stammer then trail off, fidgeting awkwardly ahead of him. 

You don’t want this pretty boy’s first impression of you to be that you’re completely and utterly broke. Even if this is the last you ever see of him, you’ll only be remembered as that one girl from the bookstore who couldn’t buy herself anything. 

“I figured I could just come buy tomorrow and finish it…”

“Oh. Okay. Well, it was… it was nice meeting you, then.”

“You, too,” you murmur with a tightlipped smile, eager to get away from a moment you don’t feel very deserving of. 

Out of every girl this pretty boy could’ve chosen, why did it have to be the one in the very back of the bookstore who was too poor to get anything other than a free coffee and bagel? 

You chuck both in the bin as you head towards the exit.

The sun has almost finished setting when you leave — mostly disappeared over the skyline, but painting the sky a deep lavender shade unique to the twilight hour. You stand at the crosswalk — the man on the speaker shouting “wait!” at your side — as you anticipate the orange hand across the street to turn into a white stick figure.

“I told you she’d still be here,” a familiar voice sounds from a few paces behind you, mostly drowned out by the sounds of passing cars. A louder “hey!” follows. You only think the voice might be calling for you until it comes closer. 

“Hey!” It comes again, louder now.

You look over your shoulder and find Steve from the Bookstore striding towards you. 

Both happy and confused to see him, your wavering smile is paired with a pair of furrowed brows. “Hey…”

“Sorry, you just— you left this.”

When your eyes manage to flit away from his sculpted face — which you just noticed looks eerily similar to Michelangelo’s David — you find that he’s holding a book in his hands. Handmaid’s Tale. The same copy you were reading, dog-eared just like you left it.

Your contorted features never falter. “I didn’t…” you trail off with the shake of your head, laughing softly. “I didn’t buy that.”

“No, I know,” Steve shrugs with a crooked grin. “I did.”

You think he might be implying he bought it for you, but then you realize that’s crazy, because why would he do that for you? That’s the sort of thing that happens to girls in Brontë novels, not to you.

“Youdid?” you echo like an idiot because it’s all you can think to say.

“Yeah. ‘Cause, you know, you looked pretty interested in it and everything…”

“But you didn’t have to… You didn’t have to buy it for me—”

“It’s not a big deal. Seriously. I mean, it’ll save you the extra trip down here tomorrow, right?”

You meet his confident grin with a trembling one. “I can’t take it…”

“Well, if you don’t take it, that means I have to keep it, and—”

“He’s pretty much illiterate,” Robin calls from a little ways behind him.

She’s waiting by a pretty maroon car. It looks like a luxury model of some kind, shiny like it’s fresh off the lot. She leans against it like it’s hers, but Steve’s got the keys in his hand — the one not holding the book he bought for you.

“…I was gonna say I haven’t read anything since junior year of high school, but sure,” he concedes with a shrug. His eyes sparkle down at you— or maybe it’s just the street lamps flickering on. Either way, you feel your stomach whirling. He waves the book at you. “Take it. You’ll actually read it.”

“But…” you trail off, eyes flickering over to Robin. You step closer to Steve and lean in like you’re about to tell him a secret. “Won’t your girlfriend be upset?”

“Girlfriend?” the boy repeats with pinched brows. He goes soft with realization a second later, then starts to laugh. “No. Robin, she’s— No. She’s not really my type.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer with wide eyes. 

If cool, pretty girls aren’t his type, then there’s no way in hell you are. 

Slightly comforted by his assurances, when he motions the book to you again, you take it. 

“Well, thank you, Steve. That’s… That’s really nice.”

He shrugs again. “’S no big deal. Really.”

“But I feel a little bad,” you confess quietly, peeking at him from beneath your lashes while you fidget with the book in your anxious hands. “I feel like I should give you something in return, or, I don’t know, like—”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Steve assures with the shake of his head. He swipes a hand through the chocolate-honey locks and flashes you a smile that borders on shy. “But if you wanted to go out for coffee or something sometime, then I’d be willing to call it even.”

Your cheeks burn. You don’t know if you’re breathing anymore, or if you even can. A quiet smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you nod. “Coffee sounds good,” you answer sheepishly.

“Cool,” Steve replies coolly, like he isn’t totally beaming down at you. “Then, just… call me whenever you’re free.”

“Oh, I don’t— I don’t have your number.”

His sneakers scuff against the sidewalk as he walks backwards to his car. He just nods at you, smiling gently as he argues, “Yeah, you do.”

Your brows furrow in confusion — because you most certainly don’t. He was a stranger to you a little more than ten minutes ago. You have no reason to have his number. 

Realization settles over you like pinpricks down your spine, butterflies in your belly. 

You open the front cover of the book and find several numbers written down at the very bottom of the cover page.

Call me when you finish, the note reads in half-legible chicken scratch. I’m not really a book guy, but I could probably hear you talk about them all day.

He signs off with his name, number, and a sloppy smiley face. 

You don’t realize you’re beaming until you already are. 

When you look back up at Steve, you find him standing at the open driver’s side door, already smiling back at you.

[bunnys-kisses]

hi bunny!! please may i order swiss roll with a side of tonic water and mocha coffee served by fernando? and please make it spicy!! 🤍

bakery menu

orders are still open! hit me up! i've been writing a lot more and i love creating these little pieces for you! thank you to all who have submitted, i am working tirelessly to get through all of them! so thank you! from this lovely anon, thank you! i love a good fernando alonso fic in my inbox, fans of his always have the most interesting orders, haha! especially with the swiss roll prompt! wow!

swiss roll ("everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you.") + tonic water (age gap) + mocha coffee (breeding kink) served by fernando alonso (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, breeding kink, age gap (20s/40s), sugar daddy-adjacent, mentions of children & pregnancy, alonso likes having power over you, slight baby trapping, sub/dom

when your university friends told you getting involved a man almost double your age was a bad idea, you simply scoffed it off. in a bit of fairness you had little dollar signs in your eyes when fernando first started to spoil you. his praise was a fountain that kept you full.

but everything came with a price tag, pequeña paloma and after three years of messing around, fernando expected a return on investment.

"you know, you're getting up their in age, alonso." he heard over dinner. it made the man laugh against his wine glass with his other hand on your lower back. your shifted a little in your seat and kept your focus on the conversation.

the same member of the team added, "it's about time you had kids, no? you can't keep racing forever. if you start now you can have the kid in racing before you know it."

you looked away briefly and tried not to blush too hard. you had been out of university for a month for summer vacation and now they were talking about children? but your fernando just laughed and said, "well, i guess we aren't getting younger. right, dove?"

he pulled you a little closer to him and rubbed your shoulder, he looked at you. those dark eyes pulled you in as always. it made you rub your thighs together with a throb that he had trained you to feel whenever he was somewhat domineering.

you nodded and giggled a little, "well you aren't." then giggled when your much older boyfriend pulled you close. he kissed you on the head and you felt his warmth. he then turned back to the team member and flashed him a grin.

it was a return on investment. fernando alonso gets involved with a pretty young thing from a pretty little private university, spoils her and gives her the attention her daddy won't. then have her get all soft with his child and be a good mother to them.

and that was what happened when you got back to your room for the night. his broad hands on your shoulders as he bent you over to touch your toes. just as he trained you, stretched you out nice a good, in more ways than one. he admired you for a moment with his stiff cock nudging against your backside.

"he was right, pequeña paloma. i'm not getting any younger. about time i have a child. and who else would i pick, but you. you're almost done school and now my live-in girlfriend. i feel like a baby would make it a home." he leaned over you and placed his large hands on your middle, "it's only fair you give me what i want. everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. i own those, so i guess that means i own you."

you nodded, "yes." and you felt something to twist in your gut before fernando made you stand up right once more. his hands on your breasts, groping them between his strong hands. you whimpered a little bit from the pain.

"that's what i like to hear." he said before he pulled back a little to undo the zipper of your dress. he didn't know why he was taking it off so delicately, you weren't going to be able to wear this form fitting number in a few months.

but don't worry, he'll get you something to show off that growing middle. once he got you in your bra and panties, you turned to face him. you looked at him and started to undo the buttons of his shirt. his hands were on your hips are you did your duty to get him undressed.

the liked the sight of you, submissive. so cute.

once you undressed him, you led him to the bed. you got up on it and crossed one leg over the other. fernando soon crowded your space and got you on the bed. laid out to perfection for him.

you said to him, "we don't have to make a baby now."

he looked at you and responded, "we have to. anything could happen tomorrow. i need to make sure that your sweet cunt is taken care of. bred to perfection." he said softly, his words left you feeling tingly all over.

you looked good under him as his eyes raked your naked body. pretty little thing. fernando's little investment. have a good place to keep his cum for years to come, but right now he wanted you to end up with a baby at your hip.

"you know you can't deny me, my love." he said softly, "you know you can't. you let me do whatever i want to you. just like your apartment, your bed, your services. i own it all, and you have to start repaying." he licked his lips and got between your legs.

you squirmed a little and held onto the soft white covers under you. fernando's cock twitched at full attention and he shifted his hips a little before he grabbed you by the legs and got them over his shoulders.

he pressed into you further, putting your knees to your chest and fully trapping you underneath. he said in a low tone, "you know how to be good for me. right? you know how to stay under me and let the man who owns you do what he pleases." he got his cock into with ease and watched your back arch.

such a beautiful sight, there was a large period of time where they weren't women like you. so willing to please a man like fernando, do anything to keep your man happy. and he in turn made sure you didn't want for anything. if him bruising your cervix means your silly little tution was covered then so be it. you just hoped that you didn't get pregnant before you finished your program.

it felt weird to have your knees so close to you while he rocked against you. his hands on either side of you as he dragged his cock in and out of you. at one point he only had the tip in before he quickly pushed it back in to the base. you felt the force of that in your chest as his cock explored your insides. you knew his cock was a cervix kisser and it was getting very familiar with yours.

a man almost double your age hitting the back of your pussy with everything he had. he was a man on a mission to make sure your cute little cunt stayed around his cock. barely touched a man before he met you, now he was promising filthy things to the woman who was going to give him the family he wanted. you'd fill out so nicely with pregnancy, a little thickness to your hips would make his cock leaky every time he saw you. he knew that you'd be kept busy with a little alonso baby toddling after you.

he eventually eventually got your ankles over his shoulders, helplessly rested against the strength of them. he groped at your breasts as he continued to fuck you. he watched your cute curves bounce with each thrust.

you whimpered, "please, frenando." your back arched a little from the intensity of his movements. how hard he gripped onto you as the bullies his cock into your sweet pussy. your heart hammered in your chest as he continued to move against you. your much older boyfriend was breeding you, he was fucking you nice and deep to make sure it all took.

if he was going to get you pregnant then he was going to go all out for it. hips tilted so gravity could work its magic and flood your pretty, younger pussy full of come. promise of a future together. don't worry, fernando would be an attentive father and he wouldn't stick you with two or more children. well, until he retires at least. then you're going back to his country with a big piece of land. and you'll be the perfect alonso wife. plus the kids to keep you busy, there won't be any time

so maybe the degree was a bad investment, you won't be able to use it for raising the little brats that you were going to have. but, he'd happily pay for a master's program if it meant that your cunt would be stained with a sheen of his cum across it. sticky dna up against the furthest parts of you thanks to your lover.

he continued to rut against you. his mouth was full of filthy promises as he moved up against you. your heart was hammering in your chest as you tried reach your climax. happily taking what fernando gave. you tried to shift a little but he pressed into your further. he kept you trapped under him as he felt his cock with in your sweet cunt. he knew he was could he could feel the heighten feeling around him. the thump of his heart as he had every intention to breed your sweet little sex.

"please. honey"

"i know, i've got you. you just let yourself finish. i'm right here. just like when i first made you come. you love this feling don't you. you want me all the time. that's why you're letting me finish inside of you. you want me."

you took him by the face and pulled him closer once more. you came around his cock with a noise leaving your chest. you felt hot all over, like a splash of pleasure through your system. your lover took you by the face and moved yoou into a searing kiss as he own pace started to stagger.

"honey."

"shh. i know, i know. i'm close." he really started to work your body was you laid there in a blessed out state. you looked beautiful even now, unaware of how quick fernando was fucking you. the bed squeaked under you two as the headboard rocked against the tacky wallpapered wall. a few more strokes and he finished inside of you with his hands on your hips. he had left pretty marks on your breasts and hips, a sign of his. as if the future child you'd carry wouldn't prove it.

you whimpered a little bit but fernando silenced you with a kiss. no need to be a whiny girl, you were supposed to behave for him. be on your plush behind and let him thrust up into you. watch those breasts bounce. but he didn't slow down once he came. instead he got you on your stomach and pressed his cock into you even further. the new angle had your toes curled.

his words were in you ears once more, it muddled your thoughts. all you could think about was your lover as you arched your back.

fernando alonso wasn't getting younger. so he was going to spend all his time making sure that you became the mother he knew you could be. <3

[zombiigrll]

Could you write an enemies to lovers carl grimes x reader where the reader is Negan's daughter? There could be something maybe where Carl and her meet when he breaks into the sanctuary and she escorts him around with or without Negan maybe?

I don't have the best ideas lol but you can be creative I'd love to see what you can come up with!

──────────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

HEART OF GOLD. ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x savior!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 4.5K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ enemies to lovers, use of y/n, negan is readers dad, spoilers for twd 7x1 - 7x7, enid and carl arent dating in this universe ofc, lots of rambling and build-up before any romance (sorry guys 🙏) .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you catch feelings for the wrong person. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you for the request anon! i've always wanted to do a savior reader fic so i'm so hyped writing this 🙏 its a bit long...so i hope you enjoyy!! part 2 here!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────────────────────────

you were there the day your dad had lined up the people of alexandria.

you hated what he would do, and what the saviors in general would do. but, unfortunately, you were used to it. you did what you were told and never protested. it's what your life was now.

you were sitting next to your father in the rv you guys had stolen from one of the people in their group.

there was a knock at the door, and your dad stepped out. you followed behind with your hands behind your back and a plain expression on your face.

your expression was regularly blank, the opposite of your fathers. you never had fun with what you and the saviors were doing. you thought it was sick, and it was.

"pissing our pants yet?" negan laughed as he stepped out of the rv. "boy, do i have a feeling were getting close."

you shook your head in response, looking at all the people in the line. they were terrified. besides one boy. he had an eyepatch over his left eye, long brown hair, and a sheriffs hat. he looked around your age, too.

you knew he most likely was scared, but he looked tough.

then, you realized you were staring too long. he looked up at you with a piercing glare, and you quickly looked away. you crossed your arms and sat down on the steps of the rv.

you watched as your father berated and teased the group, pointing lucille in their faces. he walked around the group, taking turns talking to them- or more at them.

he made his way over to the boy. "you got a lot of our guns." negan laughed, tilting his head as he examined the kids face. "shit, kid. lighten up. at least cry a little."

as negan began walking away and to the next person, the kid looked at you again. this time, he tilted his head slightly with a confused expression. you furrowed your eyebrows with a stern expression on your face.

negan began making his way around, and a few minutes had passed before he began his 'eenie, meenie, miney, mo' game. you watched anxiously, your face turning as your heart raced. they might not have been your group, but you would always feel anxious and upset.

you could never understand how the others were always so normal about it.

he landed on a man with ginger hair and a big, tough figure.

"anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, then we'll start."

...

you watched as that man got his head split in half, and then another man afterwards.

your dad had never taken you to one of these runs before. you were aware the things he had done, but you never witnessed it like this before.

your dad had left with rick in the rv and had you stay with ricks group. you watched as everyone processed what had happened. the blood and the bodies on the ground.. the tears.

you crossed your arms as you tried to keep your composure. as much as you were disgusted by negans actions, you knew if you had shown it you would get in trouble.

your father came back a little while after leaving. as he parked, you opened the rv door for your dad.

right as you opened it, your dad and rick exited. ricks eyes were bloodshot, and he was shaking.

"this must be hard for you, right?" negan mocked rick. "i mean, you have been king shit for so long. losin' two of your own like..." he snaps his fingers dramatically, his shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. "gettin' 'em clipped like that, one nut, then the other, and in front of your boy? that is some screwed up shit!"

you crossed your arms and looked up at your father, standing by his side and giving him a knowing look. he looked down at you and laughed before continuing to brutally taunt rick.

after a bit, negan ordered the other saviors to point guns to the back of everybodys heads, telling them to align it to their noses so if they need to fire, it'll be a mess.

you stayed by negans side, as always. you must've looked like a dog compared to your father, always following by his side unless ordered otherwise. you knew your dad was fucked up, but that wouldn't stop you from loving him. people would be surprised of how good of a dad he was capable of being.

"kid.. right here." negan looked into the boys eyes, doing a motion with his hands as a silent order for him to come over. "kid. now."

the kid silently walked over, glaring at both you and negan.

"you a south paw?"

"am i a what?" the kid tilted his head and squinted his eyes at negan, crossing his arms.

"are you left handed?" you clarified blankly.

"no."

"good." negan smiled.

negan tightens his belt around carls upper arm. "that hurt?"

carl looks down at the ground. "no."

"should." negan chuckles in response. "it's supposed to."

"dad, what're you doing?" you whispered to negan, slightly worried for the boy.

"doesn't matter." he looks at you, his expression turned slightly serious. you scoffed and looked back at the boy curiously. "alright. get down on the ground, kid. next to daddy."

the boy complied, laying down on the ground and laying his arms out. negan drew a line on his arm and informed rick that he'd have to cut the kids arm off.

you watched as everyones expressions turned surprised, but specifically one lady who was still in the line on her knees.

"you- you don't have to do this. we understand." the lady begged. "we understand. you understand."

"yeah. i'm not sure that rick does."

"dad." you mumbled, but to no avail. he just ignored you.

"rick. this needs to happen now. chop, chop, or i will crush the little fella's skull myself.

tears fell from ricks eyes as he looked at his son and the ax. "it can- it can be me." he pleaded. "it can be me."

rick and negan continue going back and fourth. tears falling, negan laughing at ricks desperate attempts and pleads to stop this. your face grimaced in disgust of your dads behavior, but your expression quickly changed at the boys words.

"dad.. just do it." he spoke, looking at his dad. "just do it."

rick grabs the ax and begins slowly lowering down, until negan stops him.

"rick."

rick looks up at negan, confusion and tears flooding his face.

"you answer to me. you provide for me. you belong to me. right?"

ricks body continues shaking as he fearfully looks into negans eyes.

"speak when you're spoke to!" negan yelled. "you answer to me. you provide for me."

"provide for you.." rick weakly repeats.

"you belong to me, right?!"

rick breaths heavily, nodding vigorously. "right."

"that is the look i wanted to see." negan smiles, looking down at the beaten up man.

you put your hand on your dads shoulder. "we're done here, dad."

he looks at you and nods, before looking up at dwight. "dwight. load him up." negan points to the man on the ground who had punched negan, and gotten someone killed.

"seriously, dad. let's go."

negan laughs. "today was a productive damn day!" you were always taken aback on how through all of the terrible, repulsive things that your father did, he still had that shit-eating grin along his face. "i hope, for all your sake.. that you get it now. that you understand how things work. things have changed."

he lets out one more loud laugh before speaking again.

"welcome to a brand-new beginning, you sorry shits!"

...

it had been a few days since that lineup. you could still hear the cries of the people there. the last words of the victims. sure, you had killed people yourself before, but you'd never been apart of something that insane before. all you could think of was the man, rick, and his son. all you could think was that they were strong. you were sure negan was looking at the boy wishing you were more like him. tough, strong.

but not much had changed in the sanctuary since that day, besides the new recruit from the line up, daryl.

you sat in your room, reading a book as you usually did. but then, you heard a few shots. you quickly ran outside, grabbing your gun as you ran out.

you spotted the kid from before, with a large machine gun in hand.

"are you fucking kidding?" you raised an eyebrow, lowering your gun. you weren't phased by the boy. you knew he was aware that negan was your father. if he killed you, he knows there'd be repercussions for him.

"i only want negan." he glared, the gun still pointing toward you.

"put the gun down, dude." you holstered your gun and crossed your arms.

but before he could, dwight tackled him down.

"dwight!" you sternly yelled, running over and pushing him. "i have it under control, thanks."

dwight looks up at you and shakes his head, irritated, standing back up. you put your hand down, offering it to the boy. he awkwardly accepted it.

"he's busy right now, i'm not exactly sure where." you dust your hands off as you speak. "i'll give you a tour, i guess."

you walk inside the building, looking around at everyone working. "what's your name?" you ask, walking around the perimeter.

"why do you want to know?" he glares at you.

you scoff, stopping in your tracks and tilting your head at him. "hey, i'm not my dad. i'm not being an asshole. don't treat me like i am."

his eyes slightly widen at your stern reaction as he nods. "carl."

"i'm y/n." you continue walking around.

carl follows behind you, a bit nervously. "so negan is really your dad?"

"yeah."

he raises an eyebrow, his expression curious. "like, biologically?"

his sudden questions confuse you. "yes, why?"

"well, i don't know if you've noticed, but your dad is a piece of shit."

"i actually have noticed. i've been with him through this whole thing." your voice was angered at his sudden insult towards your father. "he's a better dad than you think."

"that's hard to believe." carl scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"i'm sure it is. i wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him, though. i don't agree with what he does at all, but that doesn't change how he is as a parent." an annoyed and slight upset sigh leaves your mouth as you finish your sentence, disappointed by who your father has become.

after a moment of silence, carl continues speaking. "it's weird to think how a man like him could have a child like you."

"what is that supposed to mean?" you shot him a threatening look. he might not have meant it that way, but you were a bit insecure how you were as his child.

"i just mean, you seem nice. it's hard to believe you're a savior, and much harder to believe your related to negan." he defends himself.

you shot him an aggressive glare. "sure."

...

you had been looking around for quite a bit, making small talk with carl every now and then, but it was mostly silence between the two of you.

you didn't fully understand why you were so content with carl. i mean, you didn't know the kid, and you guys didn't necessarily have the best first introduction. he had a gun pointed toward you as well, but you still felt calm around him. why were you feeling this way?

eventually, you made it to one of the rooms. specifically the room with your fathers 'wives.' you knocked on the door before entering.

you spotted your dad and leaned on the door frame. "i brought you something."

"i'm busy right now, y/n, give me a second." negan calmly spoke, which carl could instantly spot was different from how he spoke to all the other saviors.

"yeah, uhm.." you pushed carl into the room. "i kinda cant."

negans expression changed from soft back to his regular 'negan' expression. he whistled, a grin plastered on his face. "damn." he let out an extended laugh, putting his hands on his face. "now, how big of a mess did he make?"

"he killed two people. dwight tackled him. but it wasn't too crazy."

negan nods in response, his gaze turning over to carl. "two men.. and you're giving me the same stink-eye as your dad. except, only half as good. cause... y'know." he signals to his eye, making a mocking face at him. "i'm assuming you already showed him around?"

"yeah, i had to go on a scavenger hunt looking for you." you chuckled, putting your hands in your pockets.

"well, come over here." negan signaled you and carl to come closer, pointing down to the ground next to him. you and carl quickly obey.

"what are you doin' here, kid?" negan tilted his head over into carls direction.

"why do you think?" carl glared at negan and his smartassed tone, his arms crossed.

right after carl said that, daryl stepped into the room with a tray of food in his hands, dwight following right behind him. negan lets out a shortened laugh before pointing to the tray.

"carl, will you grab this tray for me?" negan politely asks, but it still sounds as if he's mocking.

daryl looks from carl back to negan and you, then back to carl. "why do you got him here?"

"woah!" negan puts his hands up defensively with a chuckle, a toothpick from the tray laying between his pointer and middle finger. "what we talk about when you're not here is none of your business." he lifts the toothpick up near carls face. "do not make me put this toothpick through the only eye he has." you nudge negan in the shoulder, giving him a look to discreetly tell him to stop. he nods at you and turns his head back over to dwight. "dwighty boy... fire up that furnace. we'll be down in a few." he laughs to himself quietly at the irony, "time for a little déjé vu."

dwight and daryl exit the room.

"now, i need to talk to you." negan uses his toothpick to get a piece of food from the tray, looking up at carl. "come on, let's go." negan signals for the two of you to follow.

he leads you guys out of the room and walks a little ways in front of you two. carl looks over to you, walking a bit closer. "are all of those women actually his wives?" carl lowly speaks.

"why are you so persistent on talking to me?" you whisper as well, giving him a bit of a dirty look. not necessarily on purpose, but it got your point across. "you should hate me."

"you're just a kid, too. i know i was skeptical before, but i can tell you're not like.." he tilts his head toward negan. "you've got a heart of gold compared to him."

you stop in your tracks and look at him, clenching your jaw in frustration. "you've gotten yourself into a hell of a situation. i suggest you stop making it worse."

you continue walking, a bit faster so carl trails behind you. negan opens the door in front of you guys, moving his hand to signal for you guys to get in, to which you comply, but let carl go in front of you.

you sit on the bed whilst carl and negan sit on the couch.

you sit and watch as your father talks back and fourth with carl, causing you to zone out a bit. he spoke about wanting to bond with carl, which slightly irked you.

through his laughs, negan speaks. "ah.. i can't. i can't do it. it's like talking to a birthday present."

you tune back in as he says that, curious to what he was talking about this time.

"you got to take that crap off your face." negan signals to the bandages wrapped around the side of carls face. "i wanna see what grandma got me."

"no." carl lowly speaks, slight anger in his tone as his brows knit together.

"two men!" negan yells, standing up from his seat and leaning forward.

"dad, stop it." you softly begged, your expression a bit bleak. you tapped your foot anxiously.

"two. men." negan simply glances over to you, his expression just barely softening. "punishment."

"he's a kid. you can punish him, but don't.. humiliate him."

you didn't know why you had a soft spot for him. or why you called him a kid, despite him being your age. but, you just did. negan lets out a sigh, shaking his head before looking back toward carl.

"you like music?" he asks, which carl simply furrows his brows in confusion to. "i want you to sing me a song."

after a moment of staring and processing, carl softly responds.

"what?"

"you mowed down two of my men, i want something in return for that. sing me a song." negan turns his head over in your direction. "and you, can you go check on the boiler?"

you glance at carl before standing up from the bed. "...alright."

you exit the room and look below the railing. you see someone you don't recognize tied to a chair and a group of people waiting around.

you walk around the perimeter before knocking loudly on the railing to get everyones attention. everybody downstairs looks up and kneels down.

god, you hated these standards you dad had put up for you two. you hated this princess treatment.

you cleared your throat. "is everything ready?" you asked as you began stepping down the stairs to get a better look on the scene.

you saw that the man lined up for the iron this time was mark. you knew him and amber had something going on for a bit now, you didn't think that your dad would have found out however.

"yes, we're ready whenever." one of the saviors informed you calmly, though you could sense they seemed a bit fearful.

you didn't understand why the saviors were scared of you. well, you did, but it didn't make sense when you're the only savior who hadn't been super involved in the killings.

"..okay." you awkwardly pressed your lips together. "i'll go get my dad."

you stepped back up the stairs swiftly, walking back over in the direction of the room you had left your father and carl in, but they were already walking toward you.

"it's all ready." you informed your dad, giving him a moment to step in front of you so you could be back to carls side. he looked a bit shaken up, and you were worried what your dad had done.

the three of you make it back up to the balcony, and negan hits the railing a couple times with lucille to get everyones attention. he hands lucille over. "hold that for me." he says to carl, but you take her before carl has to, shooting him a lopsided smile as you do so.

negan begins giving his speech before the iron. you continue glancing over at carl, whos staring down at the whole scenery going on. negan begins going down the steps, and you two follow with him.

"mark.. i'm sorry. but it is what it is." negan says before signaling for dwight to do the iron.

you look down at your feet, but your gaze turns up to carl. his expression had changed from confused to terrified in seconds.

when it was all over, negan gave the end of his speech before walking abck up to you and carl.

"you probably think im a lunatic." he chuckles, examining carls changed expression. "come on. let's go figure out what to do with you-"

"hey, dad." you cut him off. "i'm just gonna take him back home."

negans eyebrows rose as he looked down. he was silent for a moment before he nodded. he turned his head over in carls direction yet again. "take everything that happened today as a warning. don't pull that shit again."

carl simply just looks away, looking back at you.

"i'll be back soon." you weakly smiled up at your dad. "love you."

"love you too, kiddo."

you walked out of the building, grabbing the car keys on your way out. you got into the car along with carl and began driving off.

it was silent and awkward for a bit, but you couldn't help to ask..

"what did my dad do when i was out of the room?"

carl leaned his arm against the door, using his hand to lift up his head. "he made me sing. and he swung the bat over by the bed while i sung."

you clenched your jaw, shaking your head. "..sorry."

"why? you're one of them, it's what you guys do."

"i don't do that stuff." you clarified yet again.

he turned his head back over to you, squinting a bit in confusion. "you asked me why i was so persistent on talking to you, but i could ask you the same thing. why do you keep defending me and talking to me?"

you anxiously tapped your fingers onto the steering wheel. "because i don't want to end up like my dad."

...

you couldn't sleep that night. all you could think about was carl. it was stupid. you didn't know why you were so entranced by that boy, but just the fact that you were.. falling for an alexandrian, the people you were currently going to war with.. it wasn't looking good for you.

you had only been back home for a little bit, maybe an hour? and still, all you could think about was him.

you had to make things right.

everyone had started to go off to their rooms already, so it'd be pretty easy to sneak out. you knew the perimeters, having been here for a few years, and you knew where all the watch posts were and the blind spots of said watch posts.

you packed regular essentials in a small crossbody bag, grabbed your knife and gun, and headed out. you grabbed one of the motorcycles and your helmet and began dragging it alongside you until you got some place safe on the road where no one could spot you. then, you started speeding over to alexandria.

you were a bit worried that they'd catch you and put you somewhere, or kill you, but what you were feeling was too persistent. no matter what carls reaction was, you'd at least be rid of the feeling.

after a while, you arrived near alexandria. you stopped the motorcycle and thrown it off somewhere safe in the woods so you could walk up to the gates.

unlike the sanctuary, you knew nothing about the perimeters of alexandria. you had only been there when you took carl back, so the front was all you knew. you also knew that approaching the front gates could possibly get you kidnapped or killed, so you weren't exactly sure what to do.

you looked at the watch tower that was to the side of the gate, investigating to see if anyone was up there. and, to your avail, there wasn't anyone.

..now you just needed to figure out how to get past the gate.

since you knew it was safe, you stepped closer and investigated the gate. it looked as if you could climb up the bars that held the walls up and drop down off of it inside of alexandria. so, you did. it was difficult and if anyone had seen you, you probably would have let them kill you for your own good.

you carefully dropped down. it made a loud noise, but you didn't think anyone heard because of it being quite late..

until you heard your name whisper-yelled from the distance by a familiar voice.

you turned around and spotted carl, his eyebrows furrowed and his expression surprisingly not angry, but just confused.

"fuck.. hi." you awkwardly responded, putting your hands on your knees as you caught your breath.

he squinted his eye at you, crossing his arms. "why are you here?"

"i'll tell you in a second, can we go somewhere more private?"

he nods and quickly starts walking back toward what you were assuming was his house. there was already a window open, and he climbed through first, reaching his hand down to help you through.

you step into the room and he pulls out a chair from his desk, sitting down in it and offering for you to sit on his bed. you sit down with a sigh.

"so, why are you here?" his voice is still in a low whisper, but it's loud enough for you to hear. "i mean, if you wanted to do something, you could've done it when you dropped me off. so what's up?"

"yeah, uhm.." you take a deep breath out, messing with your fingers as you continue speaking. "i wanted to talk to you." "you wanted to talk to me?" carl repeats, tilting his head in confusion.

"it's just.. with everything that happened. how we met, what happened earlier at the sanctuary.. i can't stop thinking about you." you cross your arms around yourself in embarrassment, unsure what carls expression is changing to. "i know i shouldn't. but theres just something about you, and i can't exactly put my finger on it. i know it's weird, and we know nothing about each other besides the fact that i'm the daughter of a bad man, but-"

"stop." he scoffs, shaking his head.

you look back up at him nervously, biting your lip.

"..it doesn't matter that your dad was a bad man. you're obviously not." you can tell by his voice and body language changing that he seems slightly nervous as well. "i keep thinking about you, too. you're different from the saviors. you could be safe here, y'know."

"if i stayed here, i'd put you guys in more danger." you give him a lopsided smile, your stomach dropping slightly the more you think about it. "..can i love you?"

carls eyes widen as he processes what you just told him.

"i know it'd be difficult-"

he stands up and puts his hands on your shoulders, moving one up to the side of your face. "i don't care how difficult it is. we'll figure it out together."

before you could respond, he leaned down and quickly kissed you, leaving his forehead on yours, and his hands on your cheeks. you lifted your hands up to his, closing your eyes as you took in the moment.

it was a sort of sorrowful moment. you knew that it wouldn't last forever. you were a savior. your people were trying to kill his, and have killed his. but the fact that you were together now was all you needed. you had to make it work.

you opened your eyes and smiled up at him. "we'll make this work."

"we will. i promise."

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[ms--lobotomy]

40k Lion being an an absolute freak. A slutty old man. A whore. Anything will do really.

Normally I don't answer requests while they're closed, but @kit-williams has a long overdue birthday gift involving Lion of either type. I was already going to do 40k Lion, but this is the kick in the ass I needed to finally write the fic. Thank you, Anon!

Summary: Lion reunites with an old lover.

Word Count: 649

Content Warnings: This one's real soft but like. Armor kink and breeding and vague NSFW

Image Credit: @squishyowl

You were going to become a mother. At least, that's what he had promised you. Before Horus lost his mind, before the man you loved vanished without so much as telling anyone where he'd gone. Ten thousand years had gone by. Despite your nature as a Perpetual, it was a long and accursed wait for something that might not even happen. Ten thousand years, and you'd not given up for a day.

Someone who'd been the lover of a Primarch would have had to go into hiding for the foreseeable future. So hide you did, moving from planet to remote planet and never staying for more than a few Earthen years. It was late at night while you worked. The noises you heard were like small earthquakes, but rhythmic as one thump superseded another. Right after the last one, you heard a knock.

"Shouldn't you be...?" you asked, words failing you.

"What in the galaxy do you mean?" you heard a familiar voice respond.

It all clicked in your mind. Perhaps the footsteps of a Primarch were so unfamiliar to you nowadays, so otherworldly that you'd mistaken them for something else. You hadn't looked out of any windows, but you saw a familiar shade of green. And you'd recognize the voice anywhere, if it was a little huskier and a little more worn.

"Lion?"

"Indeed," he replied, "now if you could invite me in, that would be quite welcome."

You tilted your head. He was never one to announce his presence, and the Lion you knew would open the door himself if he'd wanted to see you. Oh, well, you've reasoned with yourself. Most people change in ten thousand years. As you approached the door, you saw the familiar etchings in his verdant armor. You opened it and craned your neck up to look at him.

"You've aged," you said softly as he ran a hand along your cheek. His wrinkles were far more pronounced, and his hair was silver instead of the blonde you remembered. His forest-green eyes were the same, and he made rare eye contact with you as the crows feet grew deeper with his smile.

His smile widened. "You haven't," he replied, kneeling down. He slipped a hand behind your knees and lifted you up, his armor cold against your skin.

You relaxed. Despite the metal armor, his hold was as comfortable as your remember. He stood up. You hadn't felt that rush of air in a long while. You were now higher above the ground than you were tall.

He lifted you to his mouth, and you bared your neck as he pressed kiss after soft kiss into it. His whiskers were still rough against your skin, but that was a welcome feeling after going so long without it. Your eyes met again, and you let out a light giggle.

"I've missed you," he mumbled before resuming his activity.

"I've..." you started. How were you even going to begin to describe how you felt, those ten thousand years of sleepless nights waiting for him? That empty feeling of waiting, of not knowing whether your efforts were for nothing. Relief didn't even begin to cover how you were feeling. "I've missed you t-!"

He set you down and knelt before you again, pressing his lips onto yours and pressing you into the side of your house. The straps of your sundress were pushed up and to the side, and your eyes widened as his closed. After a minute, he pulled away.

"Too soon?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"N, no," you whimpered. You made no effort to pull the straps of your dress back up, thanking your lucky stars that you had no neighbors.

"Good," he said. "Now, help me take off my armor. I want to keep my promise to you."

"What-?"

"You're going to become a mother when I'm done with you."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

congrats on 2222!! soulmate au with frankie would be so cute. I love frankie sm he’s just the cutest 😍

Hi lovely! Thank you for this prompt. I was a bit apprehensive because I've read one (1) soulmate AU in my entire life and wasn't sure if I could do it justice. But obviously, Frankie takes this by the ears and I just had the best time writing it. This is also a college AU because apparently I love AUs set with Pedro boys in college 🤷🏻‍♀️

This drabble is actually an AU of an upcoming fic I have in the works, called Summer House (with a lot less angst and pain). I hope you like it sweet anon!

Frankie Morales x soulmates AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1346 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, college AU, inexperienced reader, drinking games, friends to soulmates

Sometimes, you wonder what colour Frankie’s eyes are.

It’s not something you wonder about often, not when everyone has grey eyes - but not really. One day, when you kiss your soulmate for the first time, you will see their eye colour, and they will see yours.

So you definitely don’t have any business wondering anything of the kind about Frankie at all, seeing that you two do not get along. Never have, probably never will, despite having been in the same close knit group since you were kids. Benny has long played the second to your principal in your duels with Frankie, while Santi is his, with Will keeping the peace whenever you get into a particularly thorny disagreement.

But that’s the funny thing about friendship. Despite your bickering, you got his back, and you know he has yours.

You’ve heard about it once or twice through the grapevine in high school, but finding one’s soulmate seems to be a dime a dozen in college, with happy news dropping left, right and centre throughout the academic year.

While you’re not in a hurry to find your fated other half, you start thinking that you should at least get started with the kissing part. You’re way behind your friends and peers on that front, somehow missing out on the formative experience despite being a regular fixture at house parties at high school, then sorority parties in your freshman year in college.

You really should blame the boys. No one wants to risk messing with a girl who has three hulking seniors and one equally hulking sophomore at her beck and call, not when there are far easier options around.

But you know it’s not just that, and you’ll only admit it when you're drunkenly tucking yourself into bed, alone yet again after another party. It feels like you’re the only person your age who’s still (stupidly) holding onto the hope that your first kiss can be something, not just a sloppy makeout session with too much tongue and too little meaning.

And so you find yourself, still never been kissed, when summer rolls around at the end of your first year at college. Your gang of five is about to shrink to just you and Benny, with the rest of the boys enlisting after they graduate, and the impending farewell upsets you more than you care to show.

The five of you spend the first week together at the Millers’ summer house after school lets out, as has been tradition since you were kids - with your parents when you were younger, but it’s been just kids for the last few years.

Well, just the kids plus one, since Frankie always brings a girlfriend. Unfailingly, it's someone beautiful with perfect hair who has a wandering eye for the other boys, and hates your guts for being the only girl in the group.

On the last night, the guys invite a select crowd over for one final hurrah before they go home and get ready to ship out to basic training the following week. Music is booming, cheap beer is flowing, and you’re all in the garden, the sticky Floridian heat clinging to you like a second skin.

Ironically, it’s Frankie’s girlfriend who wants to play spin the bottle. He sits opposite you, his Standard Oil cap pulled over his eyes but failing to hide his annoyance at being forced to participate. You roll your eyes at him across the circle, and he gives you a middle finger back.

Will, the self-appointed gamesmaster, spins the bottle set on a pizza box atop the lawn.

It spins, and spins, and spins - until it doesn’t.

You look on in sheer horror when the bottle stutters to a stop squarely before you, the other end pointing at Frankie, who turns green with nausea.

‘FUCK NO!’

You attempt to run, only to be tackled to the ground by Santi, who practically hauls you by the waist back to the circle as you kick and scream.

Frankie, on the other hand, has to be restrained by both Miller brothers.

‘I have a girlfriend!’ he shouts, digging the heels of his beat-up sneakers into the grass.

She doesn’t seem to mind though, clapping gleefully along with everyone else, chanting, ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’

Shoved toe to toe in the middle of the circle under watchful eyes, you exchange vicious glares. Frankie’s broad shoulders are hunched over defensively, arms crossed. It’s strange, you’ve known him forever, but this is probably physically the closest you’ve ever been to each other without being locked in a fist fight.

Warmth bounces off his tightly wound up frame as he towers over you, and by some folly, you feel an inexplicable pull.

You fight the staggering want to bury your nose in that grey tshirt (the one he wears Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and restocks at Old Navy when it wears too thin), to swipe that hat off his head to brush the curls from his face, to look into his eyes - and see what colour they are.

In the end, Frankie breaks first - you’re not sure if it’s the jeering and goading from the crowd or your stubborn standoff that makes him snap. Grabbing you by the elbow, he hauls you firmly into his chest before you can react.

You should be embarrassed, mortified that this is how you’re going to end up losing your first kiss. And yet, losing doesn't seem like the right word.

There’s a deep-seated calmness inside you, knowing that it’s going to be Frankie. The boy you’ve known since you were three, the teenager who used to make you cry with stupid juvenile pranks, and the man now who wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch if anyone even looks at you the wrong way.

As soon as the tip of his proud nose brushes yours, your eyes slide shut of their own accord - and he kisses you.

God, his lips are so soft. Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees wobble so dangerously that your fingers twist into the front of his tshirt, holding on for dear life.

Can he tell that you don’t know how to kiss, at all? Does he think you’re terrible? The fact that this feels so fucking perfect despite having no idea what you’re doing sets you on edge, a magnifying glass trained on your inexperience in a way that makes you stiffen with nerves and awkwardness. 

He must be appalled at how bad you are, especially after the litany of gorgeous, more experienced girls he’s been with over the years. You can’t believe you’re subjecting him to this, how would he ever look you in the eye afterwards -

But then, something shifts when his hands find your waist, palms easily spanning the small of your back as he pulls back for air, but only just, still so close that you can feel the tickle of his beard on your chin. There’s an unmistakable hitch in his breath, a tremour as he exhales, which in turns makes you tremble and switches off the unwelcome commentary in your head.

It’s as if he wants you.

Before you can think too hard, Frankie leans in and kisses you again, harder this time, the tip of his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth, and heat chases down your spine like a meteor. He sucks on your bottom lip when it falls open in a gasp, dipping between your lips with a clever swipe of his tongue against yours that makes you shudder and whimper, which he swallows with a possessive growl.

Your lungs are burning when he draws back, his nose still touching yours.

Then he calls your name.

You blink as your eyes open -

Frankie’s staring at you, lips parted, his gaze reverential. Like he’s never seen you before. Reaching up, he takes your face in his hands, calloused palms on your cheeks, thumbs swiping away the tears that won’t stop. You break into a watery grin, which he mirrors, a warm chuckle rumbling in his chest, holding you close as everything falls into place -

Frankie’s eyes are brown.

Note: In case it's not clear, in this fic, everyone’s eyes appear grey. You can only see your soulmate's eye colour after you kiss them for the first time.

[usmsgutterson]

helloo

could you write a Kaz x blind!reader? like they’ve been together for a long time when the reader asks to feel his face to “see” what he looks like

Blue- K.B x blind! gn! reader

hi, anon! Thank you for sending this in, and I'm sorry it's coming out so late but if you're reading this I hope you like it!

I went ahead and aged Kaz and the reader up to around 26 because it made more sense to age him and the reader up in my head, so I hope that that's all right!

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- kaz is probably a little ooc

You and Kaz had been together for a decade by the time you felt ready to ask him.

Your blindness was a simple fact of life, and as a result, you'd fallen in love with Kaz based solely upon his personality, the way he spoke and the way that he acted and how he as a person, made a hell of a lot more sense than most of the others in the Barrel that you had met.

You'd been together nearly a decade when you finally asked him one night, a question that was burning a hole in your chest and one you knew he might not have agreed to, but one you had to ask anyway to give yourself peace of mind.

"Kaz?" You spoke into the opened space that was your bedroom. You knew he was there with you. You'd heard the sound of his cane in time with his footsteps as he entered, had heard him go to the bathroom on the left side of your room, had heard the door close and then open again. "Love?"

"Y/N?" Kaz asked. You'd been sitting at the desk, and you knew from the sound of rustling blankets that Kaz was on your bed, likely getting off of it and moving to you.

"I was thinking, and I realized that--well, I've not even the slightest idea of what you look like," you said. "I sometimes use touch to help grasp my surroundings and what I would be looking at if I could see, and you don't have to say yes, but I--"

"You want to touch my face?"

At that, you hummed your agreement.

"Okay," Kaz said. You heard a bit of rustling, the sound of Kaz's cane against the floor and moving in time with his footsteps, and then approaching you.

You used the side of the desk to get yourself to standing, felt one of Kaz's hands in yours, then the other. As you took a small step to the side you were met with the cool feeling of Kaz's cane against your left hip. He must've put it there while you were focused on the feeling of his bare skin against yours, an icy cold kick to his skin that only msde you want to draw nearer.

Kaz brought your hands up to his face, and you felt some restrain as he fought not to lean into it.

"Your hands and your face are cold," you murmured. "It's nice."

"Your hands are warm," Kaz responded. "That's nice, too."

You moved your hands to his chin, finding a sharp jawline and a cutting jaw. Your hands moved up his cheeks, finding sharper cheekbones and ragged but cold skin.

Your hands moved to his lips, and for a moment you could've sworn you felt Kaz stop breathing as they made contact.

"Inej was right," you said idly. "Before our relationship became romantic, I asked her to describe you. She said that you were jagged edges and sharp turns, that you were handsome in spite of it."

"You think I'm handsome?" You could feel Kaz's lips move, felt the grace of one of his teeth against your thumb.

You nodded. "I do," you said.

Your hands moved from his lips to his nose, from his nose to his eyes.

"Jesper said that these were blue," you said. "Like the sky in the middle of the day, like blue quartz shined in front of a light, like blue seaglass in the sun. He had a lot of metaphors."

"Hes right, though I do agree that the metaphors are a bit extravagant for describing an eye color."

You laughed. Kaz decided, in that moment, that he could've died happily if he were to have died right then.

Your hands ran gently across his eyebrows, along the run of his forehead, and they found his hair.

"Despite what Nina says, my haircut is decent, in the very least."

"Is it?" You asked, mentally cataloging that his hair was oddly soft. It hadn't been something you'd expected from the rough and tough Barrel boss that his voice emanated, but you supposed that your relationship with Kaz had been a series of things of that sort. Delightfully unexpected.

Kaz paused before laughing just a bit. One of your hands had idly gone back to his lips, and you felt them split into a smile. You, too, could've died happy had you died in that moment.

"My abilities as far as haircutting are concerned are decidedly not worse than they were when we were eighteen and I was realizing I was in love with you," Kaz said. "But, they're also decidedly not that much better. The haircut looks passable for something done by a barber in the Financial District, should that be of any constellation."

You grinned. "It's not," you said. "Your hair is soft, though. That's the constellation for me."

Kaz hummed, and you dropped your hands.

"I love you, Y/N," Kaz said after several moments of silence had passed.

"I love you more, Kaz."

Kaz pressed his forehead against yours suddenly, startling you for a moment, but then his hands were on your waist and yours were on his neck and Kaz was thanking the saints because he had not felt the water rising to his ankles, nor had he heard his brothers voice calling to him from the waves.

Kaz loved you more than he'd ever loved anyone. He wanted to make sure you knew that.

"If you ever want to touch my face again," he whispered. "Just ask. I'll say yes every time."

You hummed your agreement. "I don't mind the forehead press," you said. "Nor do I mind your hands on my waist. You can feel free to do this any time you like."

And then Kaz was grinning, his heart swelling with the love he felt for you, and nothing could've broken how content he was feeling.

And you were thanking the saints for their decision to give you someone you loved so much, someone who loved you just as much in return.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Do you write nsfw fics? If so could you write a Price x Reader based off the song “Guys My Age” by Hey Violet please and thank you :)

Lustful Gold and a Crimson-Stained Tongue

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be simple -- an intel Op. in some Russian Arms Dealer's mansion. Hell, you were actually looking forward to it, especially with the way John was undressing you with his eyes. You hoped that the red silk dress you had gotten made it through the night. (18+)

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Attempted SA, NSFW, Porn with Plot, smut, angst, fluff, praise kink, blood kink (?) (Not really but Idk), saliva, lots of fluids, P in V, dry humping, age gap

A/N: This is literally a virgin writing smut for the first time so it's legally obligated to be cringe -- but thank you for giving me the opportunity (I've crossed a line that I can't go back over). I took a bit of creative liberty with the request, so it's slightly different than what you might expect. Anyways, enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Tilt your head to the side for me, Love,” John mutters, eyebrows turned in as he holds a black earpiece in his fingers before placing the device into where you would need it delicately; making sure it wouldn’t fall out, “There we are.”

“John,” You scoff softly, “You’re holding me like I’m going to be crucified and not just going to a dinner party to get intel.” 

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t worry about my girl?” He raises a brow, taking a step back from where he had you tight up against his chest, “A piss poor one, I’d say.”

You stifle a laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides as your cheeks heat with love and gratitude. It felt good to be suffocated by his careful nature – even if that didn’t really sound appealing. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Now,” John crosses his arms, nodding his head as the black beanie on his head lightly tilts at the action, “Let me see you, Sweetheart.” 

“What, do you want me to do a spin too, you pervert?” You were dressed to the nines, gold gleaming around your neck and wrists, elaborate braids twisting part of your hair to rest in a bun while the rest falls to shroud the black device that lies dormant in your right ear. It’ll come to life shortly – when you finally make your way to the mission sight; the location was some rich asshole’s mansion. 

No doubt the party you were going to was nothing more than an excuse to boost the target’s ego with grand displays of money and sultry attendants. It sounded positively enticing, you thought – though, John was making it quite difficult to want to leave with how he was undressing you with his eyes. 

Around your body, a tight-fitting red silk dress hugged you just right, accenting everything good about you and showing off enough to entice anyone with a functioning brain. Fuck, the way it wrapped your hips made even you drool; the dripping neckline was perfectly eye-catching as well. John had told you that you looked like a goddess before you had even put it on, but he seemed to want to say more when he watched you slip into it smoothly, the practiced fluidity in your bones helping you move sensually. 

The man had been laying naked on the hotel bed with nothing more than a thin bed sheet wrapped around his sculpted pelvis, the rest of the fabric hanging off the side and pooling on the floor. A cigar had been held loosely in his lips, and when you turned to ask his opinion, he nearly dropped it with the way his mouth had opened. 

Your ego had taken a steep incline as the Captain’s pupils had dilated, turning that shade of storm blue as dark as the shadows outside the window. Unconsciously, you had rubbed your thighs together to stop the pooling heat that beings to form as his lower half jerked instinctually from the bed. You weren’t even sure he noticed his physical reaction.

“Fuck,” John mutters in front of you, bringing you back to the present. He lets his eyes trail slowly, “Doll, I’d bloody pay you to do anything you want to me.” A smirk filters from your lips.

“You really like the dress, don’t you, hm?” 

He doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah, lie of the century, that is,” You raise a brow, confusion leaking into your beating pulse as he saunters closer with a sway in his alluring hips. The packs and objects on his black combat vest press into your upper stomach as he leans into you, carefully shoving you back into the body-length mirror attached to the wall. John leans close, his breath fanning over the hot skin of your exposed neck; the rouge of your painted lips open as your lungs tighten with expectation. You want desperately to shove him back into bed and rip his damn gear off. Or maybe just let him fuck you with it on, really…you lusted over that shit, “I bloody fucken’ love it.”

His lips find your pulse point, moving the gold necklace farther up your skin with his nose, causing your head to slam back into the mirror with a muffled thump. John chuckles as you eagerly open your neck to him more, glancing at your face from the side. Your heart was beating like a lion’s, being able to be seen through the thin silk.

“Eager, are we? I thought I had tired you out not an hour ago?” 

You had, You had wanted to say, but only a needy whimper falls from your lips as his teeth graze your skin. The ache from your prior activities was set deep into your thighs and lower body, making a promise to cause hell when you have to walk in heels soon. 

But, God, did you love it.

Your hand weaves its way under John’s black athletic shirt, finding the tight available skin and digging your red acrylic nails over it. You force the man forward, his deep-chested grunt leading to a full-body shiver not a second later. Something hard and solid presses into your abdomen and you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, panting as a trail of saliva follows John as he pulls back from your neck to watch you.

“Who’s eager now, Captain?” John’s hands snap to your thighs, smirking as he’s dragging one to his waist. You lick your lips as he presses deeply into you with his clothed erection, making the heat in your core burst into a raging fire at the stiffness, a slick feeling coating your panties. Your thigh comes to rest on his waistline, and he holds it there with an iron hand.

“John,” You whimper as he begins to move you, lightly rocking back and forth as your hips jerk to meet his.

“Fuck,” He groans, pressing his forehead to your own as he grips your waist tight with his free hand. The man pulls your thigh into him with every thrust, fingers digging so hard the skin is already indented, “If only you could see yourself, Love,” A low whimper enters the air, muffled when John connects his lips with yours with heavy open-mouth kisses as his beard rubs over your flesh. The both of you move in sync, using the other to get off as quickly and as cleanly as possible in the limited time. The zipper of his pants connects with your bundle of nerves, making you moan and writhe against him like a bitch in heat. John pulls back to grunt into your mouth as his hips press you farther into the mirror with a particularly hard thrust once more, making sure to hit that spot again. Always so attentive. Your back arches as you keen breathily, hands roaming his abdomen and digging into the muscle there to ground yourself as you rut. The slick in your panties drips down your free leg in a disgustingly pleasurable tear, “Fucken’ perfect in that dress.” 

That’s when there’s a knock on the door. 

Snapping out of your hazes, you both whip back to stare at each other with wide eyes before your heads turn to the door. The fire stills, pauses, unsure if you both should continue. You want to. Your breasts are pressed tightly to John’s chest, and every breath makes you want the Captain to grip them in his hands and squeeze. 

“...You two had better be decent!” Gaz’s voice wafts in from under the crack, making both of your eyes widen comedically, “The rest of us had to plug earbuds in to drown out the sounds from an hour ago. Honestly…the pair of you can’t go a few bloody minutes without fucking?”

Your face heats, twin scorching suns taking home over your cheeks. Immediately, all thoughts of lust are shut off like being doused with a bucket of cold water.

Still leaning into you, John groans, leading his body to vibrate perfectly. You stifle a needy whine as your hips rock once more, slick beginning to uncomfortably drip to the side of your knee. You would have to change your underwear before you left. And redo your makeup. 

“Fuck off, Sergeant, before I come out there.”

“I’d rather you don’t come anywhere, Sir.” Slapping a hand over your mouth you try to stifle the loud bark of laughter that finds the air, the shadow under the door slinks off with a finishing call of, “Laswell said five minutes before we leave, yeah?!” 

Your chest vibrates with humor, head lightly meeting John’s chest as he lowers your thigh and lets you place your foot on the ground. Laughing, you feel the man’s arms wrap around your body pulling you to gently sway back and forth. 

“Damn the boy,” Price mutters into your head, “Should put him on desk duty for a month for that.”

“Oh, come on,” You respond, pulling back to look at him with a smile as your eyes light, “That was funny.” 

“Hm,” he rests his bearded chin on your forehead, the small bristles getting caught in some of your baby hairs as he lays a gentle kiss on your skin.

You both stay like that for a minute or two, content as you listen to the heavy beating of each other’s hearts and the slight pants of air falling from your lips. The lustful heat was dead, and in its place duty grew. 

It was time to get to work. 

—

“Price?” You tilt your head to the side, slipping the gold and diamond earrings on as you whisper into the earpiece, “What are the chances that I can steal some of the appetizers and stuff them into my handbag?”

“I’d say less than probable, Love.” Layered behind John’s amused voice, Laswell pipes up, the sound of shifting bodies letting you know that many people were waiting on you to exit the Limo. You had no idea how they could see you but were put at ease that they were able to.

“You’ll have plenty of time to eat later, Bravo 1-6, no need to worry. Let’s just focus on the mission for now.” You pouted as Kate spoke, newly applied lipstick pulling at your skin as you moved your hands away from your ears and fixed your strands of hair. Under you, the leather seats of the vehicle are insanely comfortable.

“You guys are no fun.” Sighing, your hands stop their fiddling, falling to your lap as you huff, “If the silverware is gold plaited you bet your ass I’m shoving it down my bra – and I don’t care how much you complain, I’m taking it.”

Just as you stop plotting your mini heist, the car door to your right opens with a pop, snapping your thoughts back to the task at hand.

A tall Doorman your age is on the outside, dressed in a handsome black suit and red bowtie as the chilled night air seeps into the car. He holds out a hand to you, and after a second of hesitation, you plaster an innocent smile on your face; eyelids fluttering prettily. It was shocking how fast you could change your outward attitude. 

“Oh,” You purr, head tilting, “Such a gentleman. Thank you, Sweetheart.” Placing your hand in his, your jewelry jangles as the Doorman helps you out of the car, carefully gripping your hand in his own gloved one. 

“Erm…I-Invitation, Ma’am.” He mutters, face amusingly red as he stares at you; unable to make eye contact for more than three seconds. He drops his hand but leaves it outstretched as you take a step away from the vehicle.

You smirk.

“Of course,” Flicking your tiny handbag open with nimble fingers, your hand delves inside. The smooth surface of a stamped envelope connects with your searching digits, but your knuckles tantalizingly brush the tiny knife sewn into the lining of your bag. With a giggle, you grab the invitation and hold it out. In your grip, it’s held loosely between your pointer and middle finger. You tilt your head as he takes it.

“I’ve heard Mr. Bogdanov throws the most wonderful events – when I’d been told, I forced my father to get me an invitation to the next. Can you believe he almost denied me?” Bringing a hand to your mouth, you cover the convincing laugh that meets the chilled air politely, “Insanity! As if I could miss this!”

God, You think to yourself, this is humiliating. John and the others always get the fun jobs. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” The Doorman, “Mr. Bogdanov is always happy to see new faces on his estate. Especially ones as beautiful as yours.” 

Your earpiece crackles for a moment, and you swore you heard John mutter, “Muppet,” into your earlobe. 

Stifling a violent snort, you shuffle your heeled feet.  

“Oh,” You watch the Doorman check the invitation, flicking it open and checking the signature on the bottom with flushed cheeks as he blatantly moves to stare at your clothed breasts, “Flatterer.”

“You’re all good, Ma’am,” He clears his throat, shakily handing you back the paper, “Enjoy your night.” 

Snatching the invitation, you smile his way before walking up the red-carpeted stairs ahead, hearing muttered conversations flowing out into the night. You try not to ogle at the humongous house that the Target has, multiple stories and windows larger than a damn tree coupled with white paint. The front garden alone was the size of multiple football fields.

“...This place is definitely in that ‘World's Top Ten Biggest Houses’ video online.” 

Gaz’s voice chuckles through the line, making your lip quirk.

“I think I’ve seen that one before!”

“The both of you are chaos incarnate.” 

“Damn right, Laswell,” You murmur, eyebrows furrowing at the radio silence from John. He was usually hyping you up by now, whispering in that husky voice to leave you flustered. It was your favorite part of these missions – his grumble in your head leaving your lungs heaving and cheeks hot. 

So this attitude was very confusing, to say the least, but you can’t dwell on it. The front doors open as you walk up to them; butlers waiting outside for the guests – all excellently dressed. 

Their eyes boggle out of their heads when they see you, and skurry to make sure you don’t have to wait outside any longer. 

“Thank you, boys,” You sing, waving a hand as you saunter past, enjoying the attention but wishing it was from someone else. 

This would have been so much more fun if John was here. He would have made jokes about everyone's outfits with me. 

Your chest tightens, and you frown. Something was wrong with your Captain, you knew it. Not able to handle it any longer as your heels click over marble and the laughs and sounds of conversation get closer, you speak.

“John,” You clutch your handbag, eyes flickering back and forth, “You with me?” 

“...Sorry, Bravo 1-6,” Kate’s voice is not the one you want to hear right now, “Price said he had to step out for a moment.”

“What–?!”

“Ahh, and who might this be,” Sputtering, the sudden deep Russian voice to your side makes you reel, head snapping to the side, “Such a stunning woman…unfortunately, it seems I don’t know your name, лисичка.”

“A-Allegra Bayley, daughter of Braylon Bayley,” You find yourself answering with the fake name and family you had been given hours earlier, “and who might you…” Trailing off, your eyes widen slowly. Staring at the sharply dressed man two times bigger than a bear, with muscles so large the suit nearly looks like it’ll rip, you feel your hands get sweaty; you grip your handbag tighter. He’s so tall you have to tilt your head up to see his face. 

You wish you hadn’t.

Not that the gargantuan stranger wasn’t handsome - in a rugged sort of criminal type of way because his nose had been obviously broken multiple times – it's that you had seen his dead eyes before: staring back at you from the confines of a manila folder Laswell had slid over to you two weeks ago. The Target. 

Kazimir Bogdanov, Your heart picks up speed, pulsing like a rabbit’s behind its fur – only you had no fur. The only thing over you was a thin dress of flowing silk and gold jewelry. The tiny knife in your bag wouldn’t do much against him. Suddenly, you desperately wanted John’s thick leather jacket and beanie to cover your skin; confidence slowly leaking because of the glint in Bogdanov’s icy eyes. 

No…you just wanted John; his heavy presence behind you, like a watchdog ready to strike at any threat to come near you, only held back by a thin shred of decency that develops in your presence. You wanted him to be there to back you up, but with tight shoulders, you knew he wasn’t – only open-air and the scent of expensive perfume and money encompassed you.

You were on your own.

Kazimir is a weapons dealer with ties to multiple foreign terror organizations throughout the entire world – playing every side and never coming out physically covered in blood because of business. Metaphorically speaking, the man was drowning in crimson. 

The number of deaths he had caused was astronomical and rising by the day.

“Mr. Bogdanov,” A sweet smile slips to your lips, but your heart tells you to run. You had expected time to get the layout of the mansion, mingle, and get used to the environment. Hell, you still needed to figure out where the food was! You’d barely gotten through the giant fucking doors! This wasn't good.

The earpiece picks up a sharp inhale from the line, bodies shifting, and a muffled call to someone. 

“It’s a pleasure. Please,” You frown, shaking your head and waving an arm, “Forgive my incompetence. The majesty of your estate…well…It’s blinded me. I’m utterly entranced.”

“You said you were Braylon Bayley’s daughter, yes?” Kazimir murmurs, fixing the red tie around his neck with ringed fingers as thick as branches, “I remember he had sons,” Narrowing his eyes, you try your best not to panic, “but he never mentioned a daughter to me.”

“Oh, You know how fathers are. The bastard kept me from everyone,” You reply lightly leaning forward and bringing two hands to the side of your lips, “Business, you know. Tricky stuff.”

“Hm,” The Russian grunts, and his biceps tense for a moment. He watches you like a piece of meat, eyes trailing up and down as he smirks. The various scars over his face twist, “Mr. Bayley has been incredibly generous this year with his erm, donations…I can’t think of a better way to repay him than to entertain his lovely лисичка for the night. Please, accompany me.” 

You blink innocently and pull your lips back into a naive smile, imagining John giving you that look instead and letting heat flood your cheeks as a result. 

“I’d love nothing more.” 

He talks about taking you to a lounge, walking with your hand in the crook of his arm as you pass envious onlookers that burn you with their eyes and sneers. You try not to look so nervous but can’t help the way your heart pounds. The jewelry on your wrists and neck glint as if to try and comfort you; offering winks with their tiny diamond eyes.

As if it were so easy to turn off all of your emotions and be as numb as gold.

Maybe this had been a mistake.

The earpiece crackles, “Get him to talk about his latest deal,” Laswell murmurs to you, “I want details; you can’t leave until he mentions his buyer.”

“Or if you feel like you’ve been burned,” Gaz pipes in and you hear a rustle of fabric, “Your safety is the highest priority, Ma’am. Don’t jeopardize it just for the mission,” Then, jokingly, “The Captain would wring my neck.”

He’d do more than that, You want to answer, but hold your tongue, only sighing as you pass a grand table filled with amazing-looking food. Studying it longingly, Kazimir hurries you past with a comment on how ravishing you look in red – even going so far as to say it's his favorite color. It doesn’t really surprise you.

You want John to tell you you would be okay, but his voice never filters through the wavelengths, never graces your ears like an intimate murmur. Only cruel static.

It only serves to make you more anxious. 

Where is my John, You wonder, but can’t dwell on the twisting feeling in your gut before you’re brought to a couch in the corner of the main room, a small group of mingling guests glancing you over before smirking and sending whispers to their dates, Why did I agree to this?

“I must say, Mr. Bogdanov,” You sit when the man holds out a hand for you, motioning you to the soft velvet cushions, “I am quite impressed with the scale of your extravagance. So many rooms so beautifully decorated and furnished. I can’t help but wonder if my father’s donations to your business may be put to use in other places.” 

Grinning to show you partially thought it was a poor attempt at conversation, he takes a seat right beside you, body heat making your skin crawl. Kazimir had placed his frame closer to yours than you would have expected. Shifting yourself slightly away, your opposite arm hits the wooden armrest with a dull thud. 

The guests leave the room.

When the Russian talks you feel the vibrations of his voice from where he keeps contact with you. 

 I want John’s leather jacket, You tell yourself this once more before you scratch at your neck. Afterward, you disguise the nervous gesture with the outward appearance that you were fixing your hair. Feeling slick sweat dribbling down your spine, you can’t help but wonder if you had just walked into a monster den without a sword.

“I assure you,” Kazimir murmurs, sliding a hand over the back of the couch and leaning his body into yours, pressing you into the armrest with his vile build, “All investments are going exactly where your father instructed, лисичка. I’m simply the middle man, you understand, yes?” 

He laughs, and you swallow the bile in your throat. You attempt a small smile, though, your eyes certainly give you away, not to mention the tension in your body.

Get the job done, Your fingers shake, and you clutch them over your handbag in your lap to try and get them to stop, Get it done and leave. You’ll be fine. It’s gonna be alright.

But his hand was touching your shoulder now, slipping over the straps of the silk dress you had loved. You want to throw up. 

In your ear the device jolts to life, your name uttered and nearly missed by Gaz, who begins to plead with Laswell. They undoubtedly know what’s going on. They’re not stupid to Kazimir’s ways with women.

“..Tell her to get the hell out of there! Move in or something – let me kill the bastard myself, Kate!”

 “We can’t move in,” Laswell sounds concerned, “We don’t have anyone else on the inside right now – and we need to know where the weapons are being distributed from.” 

“Bullshit! We’ll figure it out another time!”

You don’t need to be a genius to know the answer to that comment. There wouldn’t be a ‘next time.’ Hundreds of people could be dead in a day if you don’t find out where Bogdanov’s current stock from your ‘father’ is being sold. 

“I can’t help but wonder,” You clear your throat, pushing aside your discomfort and leaning into the man’s hold, letting loose a girlish giggle as you flicker your eyelashes up at him. Just pretend, “Where is it that you’re sending your product? My father never told me and I hate being left out of the loop. He’s such a stickler for me never being involved in the family business.”

Before this moment you hadn’t realized that Kazimir Bogdanov was barely older than yourself. He wasn’t an old man at all, nor was he John’s age. The Russian was perhaps only one or two years your senior. 

He looked down at you with dilated pupils, staring at your visible skin and the red off your lips. Bogdanov’s tongue flicks at the side of his mouth. 

“Any why would I tell you that, Little Allegra Bayley? It is not ideal to discuss work at a party – you should drink, eat…partake in more carnal pleasures.” His finger traces your shoulder blades, creating small circles. 

“Because I want you too,” You smirk, whispering the words out with a slow sigh, “Because I asked so nicely to such a handsomely dangerous man like yourself?”

“Hm,” He murmurs, caught like a rat in a trap. His file had been right. 

He had a horrible idea that women couldn’t be involved in a line of work such as his – be smart enough to play his game. He underestimates the lengths you would go to bring him to his grave.

Kazimir is hanging off your skin like a man starved, gripping your flesh with his large hands. Like a blood-drowned mouse in a golden trap made of jeweled teeth and a diamond snare.

“I’m a snoop,” You soften your features, “My old man’s activities are…exciting to me. And I have a right to know, don’t I?” You flutter your eyelashes, putting on a pout. 

Your heart was nearly breaking your ribcage open, the bones feeling like they were flaring out like birds wings. 

“Лисичка,” Bogdanov leans in so close you could smell his musk, the breath playing off his lips, “Already prying me for information into family business. Not very innocent, are you?” He pauses, eyes lowering to your body pressed against him. He shifts his leg, watching your body move in reaction. He spills, “I believe the products were sold to a woman named Valdana Rojanić in Montenegro. Nasty stuff she plans to do – but it’s not my war, no?”

“Bravo 1-6, get the hell out of there,” Laswell barks down the line, causing you to flinch as the immediate sound of someone else shouting over the line finds your ear.

“What in the bloody hell do you mean she’s already talking to him?!” 

“John…” You mutter out loud, eyes blinking as a breath of fresh air enters your lungs at the noise of rushing feet and hands sliding across a table harshly.

“What was that?” Kazimir’s eyebrows crease, face pulling back into a snarl, “Who is–”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bogdanov, but I really have to use your restroom,” Tilting your head in a display of pure regret, you stutter, “I hate to embarrass myself like this, but I have a horribly small bladder.” 

You try not to cringe at the blatant lie.

Kazimir pulls back with a dark face, and you stand to shaky feet quickly, clutching your handbag in such a grip the fabric indents. 

You make it about four steps before a hand latches onto your forearm, making you suck in a sharp breath as John’s perfectly gravelly voice wafts from the earpiece, oblivious to your panicked pulse and wide eyes.

“Love,” His voice seems breathless as another hand snaps over your mouth to muffle a shout of alarm, “I’m so fucken’ sorry. One word and I’ll blow cover and come get you myself, eh?” A pause and a nervous chuckle, and you can’t respond because you’re bringing an elbow up behind you, snapping it into the Russian’s spleen with a violent blow. Except his arm doesn’t let go, “…Love?” You unclasp your handbag with one hand as black dots swim in your vision. John knows you best – you’d never not respond to him on a mission like this, even if you were angry, “Love…! Shit, Laswell, she’s burned! Sergeant – you’re on me! I want that Muppet’s house on lockdown, now!

—

You sit on your hotel room floor covered in blood. Not your own, of course, but with the way you were shaking, you would think it was. 

The locked door handle jiggles, and your eyes slowly travel to it – mind sluggish and still trying to process what had happened. You had killed Kazimir Bogdanov; shoved your tiny knife deep into the sinuses of his neck and felt the spray of his Carotid Artery’s blood splatter your nose and cheeks.

This shouldn’t be getting to you – how many men and women have you killed in your career? Hundreds…no, thousands. It shouldn’t affect you anymore. It doesn’t.

Kazimir was a bad man, You try to reason with yourself as you watch the doorknob once more move back and forth, he deserved what he got. No one will be sad over his death. 

So why were tears running down your face? Dribbling to the carpet like little bullets of your own self-loathing? It wasn’t because of the Russian, you knew.

“Doll…?” John’s soft voice comes from under the door, his boots making shadows in the hallway light as they shuffle. His knuckles lightly wrap against the barrier separating him from you, “You still in there? Can you open the door for me?”

You stare at the woodgrain of the door, making patterns and finding faces in the dark lines. Bringing a hand up to your face, you swipe at your tears, only serving to spread the blood into long streaks up your cheeks. 

John speaks your name, clearing his throat, “Please, I…I need you to open the door, Sweetheart. I’ve gotta make this right.”

His voice prompts you to move your shaking legs, standing and feeling the silk of your dress caress you like a second skin. You don’t want to wear it anymore, but you don’t have the energy to take it off by yourself.

Padding over to the door, your hand lays heavy on the lock, studying the red stains on your hands as they leave trails on the copper metal. You can hear John’s breath on the other side of the thin wood, the sound of his hand meeting the back of his neck, running over the flesh. He did that when he was nervous, a small tick you had been fortunate enough to learn over the years you two had been together. You knew him like a bird knew the sky, flew along the headwinds of his mind with sturdy wings without fear of divebombing; the two of you worked so well as a pair many already thought you were married. 

There was one thing you could know even when you were reduced to this. John loved you; you loved John. 

You flick the lock and hear the defending click as a deep silence covers the room. But the tall man outside the door waited for you to open the barrier between the two of you, even though you knew his heart was racing to break it down. Grabbing the knob, you slowly twist until the door draws back, only half of your face visible from the hallway. 

John’s face immediately comes into view, a black beanie over his head and still in his dark tactical gear, the black undershirt absorbing all the light that met it. His small blue eyes are creased, and when his gaze travels the gore on your face he frowns deeply, fingers twitching at his sides. 

You blink at him when he calmly takes a single step forward, grabbing onto the door frame. He doesn’t ask how you are, but the man was just about the smartest person you��ve ever known. He knows you’re not okay.

“Let’s get all that off you, eh, Love?” John nods his head at you, beard pulling as he tries to give you a small smile to mask the obvious concern at the blankness of your eyes, “Get my girl cleaned up.” 

He scans your body, looking for injuries, and you’re brought back to the events in the car that had transpired not fifteen minutes earlier. 

You had yelled at him, still dripping in blood as the car peeled out of the estate even as John was frantically moving his hands over your body, checking for open wounds. His eyes had been wild, and he took you throwing your anger at him with a stiff face, looking at the deep bruising over your forearm and the red of your neck seriously. His eyebrows had furrowed as rage swelled. Ripping your hand away from him you screamed with shaking limbs, where the hell were you?! 

You were never mad about fucking Kazimir Bogdanov or what he did to you, you were mad that John – your lover and best friend – had left you alone. You had told him before, that on missions like these, you wanted him on the line the entire time; not only for the company but because he gave you a sense of safety in the way he spoke to you that you couldn’t give yourself. Not when everyone was looking at you like a slice of dessert.

John hadn’t been able to meet your eyes the entire ride back, and when you had locked yourself in the hotel room he had offered a small, “Doll…I…” Before you had slammed the door in his face.

Now, though, it felt good to feel his hand on your shoulder, lightly pulling you back into the room as he murmured softly into the air. He let you sit on the bed, guiding you as your bare feet stumble for a moment before your backside hits a soft mattress. You wished you could go back to the time before the mission – when John had laid with you under the covers and trailed his fingertips over your heated skin, your legs wrapped around his tapered waistline as he hit all the right spots and whispered dirty paise in your ears. 

Good girl, He had grunted into your neck, panting and biting into the sweaty skin like a feral animal, leaving you sobbing with pleasure, His beard had burned so delightfully as it ravaged your skin, leaving it pulsing. Your body was trying desperately to move in tandem with John’s own devastating pace; hips instinctually trembling to meet his slick-stained pelvis, dripping from previous rounds, look at you, eh, trying so hard to keep up. Keep me in that cunt of yours. My good fucken’ girl. S-so good.

Blinking away the heat that grows in your navel, you shift, noticing John had gone off and returned with a wet rag from the bathroom; his tactical vest was off, and leaning on the bed on the floor. You hadn’t even seen him take it off. Hitting it with your toe lightly, you make it fall sideways with a muffled thump and a clinking of metal.

John attempts a chuckle as he stops ahead of you, crouching down and placing his hands in the middle of his open legs as his elbows rest on his knees. He takes a deep breath in.

“Not a fan, Sweetheart? I can move it farther if you want?”

“Where were you,” You whisper, voice hoarse. Pulling the fraying ends of your strength together you look up at him, “I needed you there with me for this…You disappeared, John.” 

You just wanted to understand; just wanted the tightness of your chest to go away.

Your Captain stares up at you for a moment before he blinks, tilting his head to look to the side; away from you. A flash of red-hot guilt overtook his ocean-blue orbs as you see him glare at the side table like he could set the wood alight with his repressed hatred for himself. 

“I’m sorry, Love. Don’t…don’t think any less of me, eh?” He chokes out, chest jerking with a humorless grunt, and his face turns back to you. Pausing, you find embarrassment heating his bearded cheeks, eyes unable to meet yours. John takes your hands in his own, bringing the rag up to begin peeling away the dried blood around your palms, “It’s…ah, It’s not an excuse, I know, but I…”

“John?” You murmur, bringing a hand up from his grip in concern to tilt his head. You hold a finger under his chin, liking the way his coarse beard itches you as you prompt him to stare you in the eyes. This was unlike him – John was never… embarrassed. Not like this at least, “What happened?”

John clenches his jaw, taking his hand not holding the rag, and carefully grabbing your digits before bringing them to his lips and holding them there. He lays a gentle kiss before he starts, uttering softly his secret into your skin.

“I just realized that maybe you would be better off with someone who wasn’t…” He trails, “...Someone who could treat you better. Give you what you want.”

What, your face must show your genuine confusion because John lets a tiny smile flicker over his lips before he goes back to cleaning your hand, Where had this come from.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your eyebrows crease, shivering as the rag goes up to your elbow, caressing the sensitive skin and drawing the large man closer to you as his heat sinks into you. His chest brushes your leg, leading you to move your limbs apart and under his armpits to rest your feet on his hip bones. The muscles of his toned thighs tense as you brush over them, and he sends you a glance.

His eyes soften.

“Someone more your age, Love.”

You immediately huff incredulously, not even realizing that you had come out of your stupor at the baffling comment from the man you loved more than anything. 

My John? Insecure about himself? Your face twists, is this because of the people who were at the party? No, you can’t have that. Not your beloved Captain.

Grumbling with genuine denial, you grab John’s hairy cheeks, dragging him to you so swiftly that he grunts in surprise; eyes flashing with those flecks of sea glass. Your legs wrap around his back, locking at the ankles, and you feel his broad body flex and writhe as his hands immediately snap to your hips, dropping the rag to the floor with a wet thwap.

John gazes up at you with blown-wide eyes, mouth slightly open as the beanie on his head bounces at the action.

In his gargantuan hands he bunches the silk of your dress which is now shoved all the way up to your waist; creasing it, and you suck in a sharp breath as his beating heart is pressed directly into the fabric of your panties. Your nerves get set alight, heat building to a steady simmer in your gut that makes your thighs flex and your pupils dilate until little of the color is visible. 

You bring John’s face up to yours, twiddling your fingers into his beard and running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks. He swallows thickly as you lean down, stopping just as your lips are able to brush over his own. You keep your eyes locked on his as you growl out.

“Any why would I want anyone that wasn’t you?” Your eyebrow raises as John gapes up at you, “Do you think anyone would be able to make me feel the way you do? The Doorman? The Butlers?” You scoff, and John licks his lips as his grip on your waist tightens. You know he wants to drag you to him, but you want him to wait, “All they did was ogle at my breasts and skin like horny teenagers,” John grunts, eyes flashing dangerously, and his heart is beating so fast in his peck that you roll your hips against his available body, gold jewelry shimmering in the dimed overhead light. The man responds by breathing out a shaky sigh, content with the feeling of you rutting on him. You knew it turned him on, though his bulge was hidden by the frame of the bed below you.

“Do you want to know something, John,” You mutter over his lips, and he hums, chest vibrating perfectly as you suck down a whimper through red-painted lips. He smirks, “Guys my age just don’t know how to treat me like you do. They can’t make me feel like this with just a fucking look.” 

John slides one hand down to your parted legs as the other goes to the small of your back, gliding over silk sensually and maintaining eye contact as you both pant into each other. Your hands tighten over his cheeks as his sturdy digits delve into the space between the two of you before they finally press against the drowned fabric of your panties. You had already leaked through them.

He hisses in a breath, and before you can even realize what’s happening, your legs are being gripped tightly, and your back hits the mattress as a gasp escapes you. 

“Little Minx,” John manhandles your body, pulling you to him as you let him peel the dress father up your body, pooling just above the swell of your breasts. Your hands grip the sheets as your Captain keeps your legs wrapped around him. He stands. 

“John,” You whimper as he grips the edge of his athletic shirt with a heavy hand, ripping it off like the article of clothing offended him. His hat falls with the black fabric to the floor as the broad frame of his chiseled abs comes into view, pale skin marred with scars and burns. The sharp ‘v’ of his pelvis makes you constrict around nothing, “I...”

“Tell me what you want, Love,” He grinds his tented cargo pants against your core, one of his large palms coming down to grip your breasts under the silk as the other plays with the band of your underwear, “Speak to me.”

“I-I’m all bloody,” You moan when his hand grips you tighter, already sensitive skin now feeling like a live wire. His hips continue to rut against you, and tension is pleasurably building as he hits that bundle of nerves every time. Your chest rises and falls swiftly as your eyes flutter.

John chuckles deeply, shaking his head. Already so worked up.

“Oh, Love, I’ve fucked you covered in worse. I’ll clean you up just fine…make sure every trace of another man is completely erased from your skin – from your mind,” He bends over you, hand trailing down your abdomen to meet where he grinds into you. He presses into your covered clit with his thumb, rolling in small circles. You gasp, back arching up into him as ecstasy makes your legs tighten. One of your hands snaps up to John’s hair, running through the locks and tugging at the roots. He shivers, his mouth near the skin of your collarbone, “Until all that’s left behind is me.”

His tongue licks a stripe from the junction of your neck up to your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back as you cry out loudly; the callouses of his fingers hit you just right – the pace perfect as he ramps up your pleasure. Your pussy desperately tightens around nothing, leaking like a faucet with need. Your Captain grips the sheets just beside your head, making sure he doesn’t accidentally crush you with his gargantuan frame. If he asked you would let him.

“Fucken’ beautiful,” John groans, “Fucken’ taste bloody good, Sweetheart…fuck.” 

He laps at your skin, leaving trails of saliva all along your neck, cleaning the blood away before moving to your face. He stares at you with a deeply feral look as the coil in your core builds, red hot and making your skin shine with a sheen of desperate sweat. Your thighs quiver as the wetness of your slit makes the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your skin. The flesh of your face scrunches, and your head is loosely rocked up and down from the constant movement of your boyfriend’s hard hips and thumb.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, You think, digging your nails into his scalp and tugging.

“Don’t stop,” You whine, “So close.”

“That’s right,” John’s tongue flies over the corner of your lip, making you want to cry at how you want to kiss him right now – but he's already moved onto your cheek, licking long stripes. When the man has his mind set on something, he’s not going to stop until it’s completed. The heat gets hotter, and your eyes snap closed eyebrows pulling in, “Yeah, come on, Love, come on. That’s it.” 

He presses his thumb harder, moving it faster to chase that prize at the end of the road, watching in satisfaction as your body responds so perfectly to his every whim; hips moving erratically. You desperately try and meet his pace and, for the most part, achieve your goal, only sputtering when the tense minutes ware on and it all comes crashing down.

Your thin line of sanity breaks, and with a final heavy tug on John's hair that leaves him lowly groaning into your ear and muttering praises, your breath comes out in tight pants as light erupts behind your eyelids. You tense and feel your pussy gush with nothing inside of you, just your Captain’s steady rocking serving as an anchor as you feel your mind go blank with unrestrained pleasure.

“John!” You gasp, just as the man cleans the blood off your nose bridge as you arch violently against his sturdy chest, shaking, “Oh, fuck.”

“There she is,” Hands go to your chin, moving your jaw as your mouth remains open and releasing puffs of air. Your eyes open half-lidded as his finger works you through your high, “There’s my girl. Look at me, Sweetheart. Hm, did so good for me.”

“John,” You whimper, looking up into the sheen of pride that shines in his eyes; legs vibrating as his fingers move from your clit to your hip. The other leg, now tingling and pleasure numb, falls to the mattress with half of it hanging off. John digs tightly into your skin, leaving beautiful bruises behind for you to admire tomorrow, “Please I need you in me. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Hm,” He smashes his lips to yours, teeth clacking together, unable to restrain himself when you have that blissed-out look coating your expression, and you reciprocate as his painfully large erection still digs into you; his cargo pants stained with your fluids in a large wet splotch. Your free hand shakily slides to his belt buckle, tugging uselessly at the metal until John takes notice and tilts his head back, “Just a minute, Princess, so needy for me already?”

“Always,” You gasp, kissing the corner of his mouth breathlessly, “You treat me so well, John, always make me feel so good.” Tilting his head farther up with a nail, you feel his breath still, held in his chest as you leave love bites all along the part where his shoulder and neck meet, “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He melts into you before hastily going down to undo his belt buckle with one hand, allowing you to continue your work of marking him as his hips begin once more to careen into you with instinctual pleasure. Nearly crying from the sharp sense of overstimulation, you let the glossiness coat your eyes but still want more from him, even if it made you go dumb. 

Sliding your hands all over his back and digging into the delicious muscles with your nails, you only pause your ministrations when his pants fall to the floor with a thump of fabric; his boxers following. Pulling back, you let your head hit the mattress as John drops the leg he was holding and you splay your hands above your head, letting the chill of your jewelry ground you as you take in the sight above you. 

Every time you and John had sex it felt like you were taking him for the first time, the size of him stretching you so perfectly it didn’t take much for you to be reduced to a whimpering mess. It was even better when you were on top of him, straddling his hips and feeling his hands holding you in place as he plants his feet and thrusts up into you; hitting that perfect spongy spot and kissing your cervix. 

Staring at him, heat flows to your face, and your lower legs nearly fall together until John’s hands snap to them, forcing them open once more. On his tense stomach, his large cock leaks down onto itself, but he hardly seems to notice. Your heart pounds in your ribcage. 

“Don’t hide from me,” He mutters your name, fingers leaving goosebumps behind as they trail to your panties. John plays with the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, leaving you pouting as the seconds drag on. But he just watches you, running his digits over the come that stains the garment and leaks from your hole to the bed sheets. 

“What’d I do to deserve you, eh?” John grunts as you make a sound in the back of your throat, “What’d I do to deserve this?” 

He grabs your wrecked panties and slowly drags them to your ankles, letting them fall off to the floor to make a pile with his own clothes. Sucking in a breath, you feel the chill of the room meet your now-visible pussy. John’s eyes darken with lust, and one of his hands goes to lightly start pumping his cock at the sight of liquid falling out of you. His eyebrows pull in with concentration.

“Y-you don’t have to deserve me, John,” You whisper, watching in awe as his muscles tense as he jerks himself off at the sight of you; keeping eye contact with those blown orbs. One of your hands slides over your clovered breasts and down over your abdomen, finding your own slick folds before splaying them. Masking a whimper at your sensitivity, your eyelashes flutter as John’s jaw clenches at the visual, “I g-gave myself to you because I love you. You know that…Ah.” 

Growling, your Captain snaps a hand to wrap around your wrist before you can begin to rock your hips and weakly fuck yourself at the sight of his leaking cock-head.

“Easy, Love,” He groans, running a thumb over his tip, “Let me take care of you, yeah?” 

John’s hand leaves his cock, going to land on your other hand’s wrist as he pulls you to a sitting position. You release a squeak as you almost faceplant into his abdomen. 

“J-John?” Muttering with wide eyes, your heart jerks as his hands weave under your knees, the other spanning the back of your shoulders. He picks you up and tosses you up into the middle of the bed, making you squeal and release a set of giggles as you land softly onto the mattress. Your body bounces, hair partially blocking your view before you swipe it from your face.

John chuckles, placing a knee on the side of the bed before moving up and crawling forward, coming to trap you under his body as he places his massive weight against you. Hating the silk barrier between your bodies, you smile and move one of your fingers to clasp the zipper in the back.

“Let me,” The man mutters, laying a soft kiss on your lips before his large hands move behind you, grabbing the metal and dragging it down. 

You arch your back to help. 

When he reaches the end, he pulls the fabric and your bra over your head; he leaves the jewelry on your body with only a lick of his lips and a glance to tell you he enjoyed the way it stood out on your skin. His cock twitches. John drops the silk to the floor and slots his hips inside the space of your thighs. 

“Hm,” He breathes over your flaming cheeks, and you go to wrap your arms around his neck in anticipation, “Not right.”

He flips you over so you straddle his lower body, and immediately the impression of his cock is on your folds, leaving you moaning with want and heat as he leans against the headboard with a smirk. You swallow, seeing the way John watches with a tilted head.

“Fuck, you feel good,” You mutter, moving one hand down to grasp him as the other lands on his chest. You run your fingers over the pre-come staining the shaft and spread it around, angling him as he groans ahead of you. His thick fingers weave through your hair, forcing your head upwards as he starts leaving savage kisses over your neck; biting and making you grip him tighter with a moan, “So big. The perfect cock for splitting me open. No one else could take me like you can.”

“Shit,” John shakes, fingers digging into your side, “So nice to me, Love.” Your hand lines him up with your pussy, moving the tip around your hole before letting yourself begin to sink down. 

He fills you inch by inch, and you feel the ache in your hips as you bring your lip to your mouth, biting down to silence the loud sounds that are trying to escape from you. Stuttering, John’s teeth sink into the skin behind your ear as you bottom out a heavy minute later, both of your chests banging against each other as you gasp for breath. The trimmed hair over his pelvis is just as coarse as his beard, leaving you itching to move. Maybe you can ride his face after this – get that perfect beard burn in between your thighs.

“Feel so fucken’ good round me, Sweetheart,” John grunts, not able to stop the light roll of his hips as he moves his lips to yours, sealing them with an open-mouth kiss that leaves saliva dripping down between the two of you to where you’re joined, splattering over his abs, “But I need you to move, yeah?” 

So tight, You notice how you’re gripping John’s cock inside you like a vice, stretching so satisfyingly around him that you have to look down to see it for yourself. Your gaze flickers to see with a pleasure-drunk sheen; eyes widening. You find John stuffed so beautifully inside you that you have to restrain yourself from coming at the sight of it, engorged member spreading you open as your slick glistens at the base, How did he even fit? 

Your walls flutter in arousal, feeling filled so completely and seeing the bulge in your stomach. 

“Fucken’ bloody hell,” John whimpers, head tilting back to slam into the headboard harshly. He fills his chest with air, and before you have a chance to adjust his hips snap up, leaving you yammering in surprise; a loud whine leaves you breathless and falling into his chest for support. 

He hits that spot without even trying, moving your body up as he plants his feet and uses you like a fuck-toy. Sweat drips down his nose. Your jewelry clinks together, giving you something else to hear besides the sound of slapping skin and fluids squelching as John pounds into you. 

You chant your Captain’s name as you feel one of his hands travel to your clit, flicking it while the other controls your movement. Up and down. The bed creaks as you arch, mind losing all function as your nails drag down John's chest, leaving deep red claw marks behind. 

“No one else makes you feel like this, huh,” John growls, his eyes traveling your disheveled frame as he sends a particularly heavy thrust up into you that kisses your cervix. You writhe as he continues, mouth open and letting him do whatever he wants to you, “No one can make you this cock-dumb, can they? No, my good girl needs me to treat her right, is that it?” 

His jaw clenches, and he spreads his thighs even wider, making your own respond in turn and letting him hit even deeper.

“Answer me, Love. Come on,” John snaps his hand over your ass, and the resounding sound of the contact makes you tighten around him as your slick paints his abdomen with a clear sheen, “Can’t have you goin’ already on me. Haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

Your eyes roll back for a moment, head limp. You don’t even care who can hear you at the moment as your sounds bounce off the walls before fingers go around your jaw, forcing your head up to stare directly into John’s beautiful blues. His pace slows torturously and you gasp in desperation.

“Answer me.”

“No one!” You yell, eyes wet and glossy, “No one, John! F-fill me up, please,” You whine, words slurring as your body pointlessly shivers; tears track down your face as you beg, “Need your c-come in me. Please, Captain. Feels so good with your cock hitting me just right, paint my insides with your come, please!” 

The sounds you were making were downright pornographic, and you swore you heard someone banging on the walls to try and shut the two of you up. 

Not that that made you both slow down. 

“Gonna leave you dripping with me, Love,” John’s fast pace returns, becoming erratic, hips slamming into your own becoming almost too much with his hand returning to circle your clit. You whine with overstimulation, legs trying fruitlessly to close as that coil builds violently once more, “Won’t be able to bloody walk tomorrow after I’m done with you. Fuck, just how you like it. Gonna leave you drooling, yeah?” 

“Yeah…yeah…yeah,” You pant, heart pounding as John’s cock curves up into your womb, “love being cock-drunk ‘cause of you, C-captain.”

“Good girl, that’s right.” Your walls tighten one last time, and as John connects his lips with yours the line snaps as you come on his cock, gushing as he guides you through your orgasm with his still pistoning hips. The sound of the wet thrusting nearly makes you pass out, and as you released a high-pitched keen into your lover's mouth, he does the same. 

“Bloody Fucken’...!”

Your own pleasure had triggered his, and with a few sloppy thrusts later, his seed is coating your insides white with a chest-rumbling groan. You feel the combined fluids slide between the ring you two had made as you fit together, pooling to corrupt both of your flesh. But that was alright -- it simply becomes even easier to fuck like that. 

John ruts into you still, cock softening even as it seems he could go more rounds. But today had been long. You sit pleasure-drunk on his chest as your body is moved back and forth by those soft, slick, thrusts, your own hips casually rocking as drool falls from the corner of your mouth. Your eyes had gained a faraway look to them.

Your nerves sing with satisfaction, your womb feeling full and dripping with his seed. Nothing made you feel this good; made your legs feel so numb and shakey.

“You alright, Love?” John pants, beard coming to scratch your temple as he whispers in your ear, “didn’t go too hard on you, I hope.”  

You smirk, moving your head to kiss his chest, licking over the purple and blue bruises you had given him. He sucks in a breath, and inside of you his cock twitches; your abused walls clenching. 

“I’m fine.” You let out a sigh, sucking in greedy breaths right after, “But I think the others might hate us tomorrow. Someone was banging on the wall a while ago.”

John lays a kiss on the side of your head, catching a drop of sweat on his lips as your fucked-out eyes go to look up at him.

“Then they’re really going to like what I do to you next.”

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I'm not a coward anymore so I'm not gonna ask this as an anon but cowboy reader where they have to go undercover at a rodeo 😶‍🌫️. I grew up in a rural town just outside of houston and my cousins showed cattle and goats there so I went to em lot as a kid so maybe one of the kids they're going to question gets hurt mutton busting (i myself almost got a nasty concussion fallin off a sheep, he damn near kicked me in the head) Just some sothern fluff with mr cowboy in his element

I strayed a little (just they weren't going to interview the kid) but hope you enjoy it anyway!

Also I had to google this and showed Flatmate Emily and she wanted me to let the people of tumblr know that she 'does not endorse sheep riding' so that happened. Anyways, on with the fic!

Warnings: mentions of a case, child injury (he's okay), like one curse word

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @chaosofmanyfandoms @logicalhorror @luvfornick @prmsn-17 @pinxeajin

"We need someone to go undercover at the rodeo." You grin slightly as everyone immediately turns to you.

"Me?" You said, "I don't know about that, I've not ridden a bull in years, Imma lil rusty."

"Oh, this is something we definitely need to see." Morgan grinned, gently bumping your shoulder with his.

You rolled your eyes, Hotch gave a small grin. "Wheels up in thirty."

You went undercover as a member of staff (a volunteer, really) to help out with the mutton busting. The profile indicated the unsub being a part of the team.

You were quickly stationed at one of the edges to look out as a first aider. You were pretty impressed with all the competitors, they were all a whole lot better than you were at their age. It was the second to last kid of the competition, he hung on for a long time, not once letting up until about ten seconds in.

You see the moment it happens, the grip on his left hand loosens ever so slightly and you know he's going to go down. So, you get ready to approach. The second he falls, your by his side.

"Hey, hey, Kid, you're a'right," The words rush out of your mouth as you help the kid up, he's only small, maybe five years old. "Hey, you a'right?" He gives you a hesitant nod. "Atta boy. You did good, kid."

He looked up at you, tilting his head to see you better, squinting in the sun. You give a smile, "Yeah, you put up a hellava fight." You said, "Lasted twice as long as I did back in my day."

The little boy beams up at you. "Really?"

"Yep," You give a small nod, "You did good kid."

"Thank you, sir!"

"Come on, let's get you back to your parents." You give him a smile and let him lead the way back to his family.

It took until the end of the next day for you and the team to pin point the unsub, a young man in his early twenties. When the case was finally over, and with a few days left before you all needed to be back, Hotch gave the all clear to stay a few days.

Morgan grinned, turning to you. "Does that mean we get to see you ride a bull?"

"Oh for fucks sake." You muttered.

[shoyudon]

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW !

i am a pro palestine blog, if you are a pro-isr@eli or support isr@el in any kind of form and way. please go ahead, exit my blog, and block me. there is no space in here for you :)

this is a sfw blog for jujutsu kaisen, most i'd do is a little suggestiveness !

i mostly write female readers !

i have no update schedule, i am a college student with an actual life going on — please, do not rush me to update or to do your asks.

english is not my first language, i apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos.

i reblog other writer's fics and post things which are definitely not fics here, so feel free to block certain tags. thank you!

DO NOT INTERACT !

basic dni criteria.

zionists, pro-isr@eli, do not interact with me or my posts.

porn link posters (i don't mind smut— but literal porn links are different, you can't tell me otherwise.)

PLAGIARISM. and if you justify it, honestly, what's wrong with you?

interact with me if you are 15+ please, do not message me if you are under the age of 15- or 25+ — feel free to interact with my posts but refrain from interacting with me, thank you. my posts are fit for 14+ for pure fluff. but slight suggestiveness will be fit for 16+

hi, if you think you fit any of the criteria above, feel free to block me. don't bother coming into my ask to bash me about what i can or can't do in MY own blog.

OHO, GET BLOCKED !

i'm setting my boundaries here in my blog, if you get blocked, that's your part to find out WHY. because, i don't block people for no reason.

you reblog + post porn links. honestly, that's just weird, idek why they're a thing (no offense). i don't care if you're a mutual, i will HARD BLOCK you. i don't mind if you reblog + post nsfw content as long as it doesn't consist shit like stepcest / incest / r@pe / sexual-assault / aging up a canon minor character to write smut about them / etc.

you justify and do plagiarism. it's pretty self-explanatory, right?

you write + reblog stuff like incest, step-cest, r@pe, sexual assault, intense age gap (pedophilia), etc. romanticizing these stuff doesn't make you look cool, it's weird and disgusting. seek help :)

the anon feature is not a place for you to be a coward and start hating, the least you could do is turn the feature off and start hating!

blank + ageless blogs. i know this is an sfw blog, but still, convince me you're not a bot; don't come at me for blocking your account by justifying that "you're just a reader". thanks!

SPAM LIKING 5+ POSTS. reblogs are very much appreciated, it means a lot to us. tumblr will think i am a bot and will throw me into the shadow realm, that's not a great experience!

hating on my works. let's keep the blog peaceful!

tag abusers. i don't want to see smut on the fluff tag, or an "about me" post on the tag meant for fluff or angst, get blocked.

straight up problematic. honestly, if you instigate drama or if you troll for no reason for the sake of gaining attention — that's just really not cool. i've had my share of experiences having a mutual "faking" their deaths for attention and then getting caught on different platforms, it's just embarrassing.

telling me to help you + support you in a drama you made. no. just no. i don't like drama and i'm not going to help you or support you in a situation that you created on your own, you're on your own (unless you didn't and you have solid proof).

PRIVATE MESSAGES !

feel free to message me as long as you're respectful about the approach, i'll be glad to reply to you :)

DO NOT message me just to ask me to support you because you're in a drama, or if you need support to do any other problematic things. or to ask me to go report someone else because you're losing the fight you made.

DO NOT message me to ask me or force me to be mutuals with you, i follow who i want.

DO NOT message me to ask if me you can translate my works in other platforms, i used to allow that thinking there was no harm. boy, oh boy was i wrong. i do not allow translations or reposts on other platforms.

i don't want to be related in dramas or discourses, so let's make this blog a peaceful and anti-drama one!

MUTUALS !

like i said, i follow who i want to. so please don't force me to be your mutual.

if you have a problem with me, talk to me. don't go all pissy and talk shit about me in your blog when you have the option to directly talk to me regarding it.

if you WANT to break the mutual line, HARD BLOCK me. this is like unfollowing me from ig without removing me as your follower. don't soft block me so i do not refollow you or interact with your posts by accident.

if i cut the mutual line, i will HARD BLOCK you. i don't block people without a reason, so if i did break the mutual line — it must have been something you have posted, said, or done. DO NOT try to reach out to me from another account because i will block that account as well. if i did block you, i do not want anything else to do or to be associated to you.

please remind me if a mutual of mine is someone problematic or have posted, said, or reblog any that fits in here so i could be aware immediately. thank you :)

keep in mind to NEVER associate me with the people i used to follow / supported before or were mutuals before. i only associate myself with the people i follow NOW. thank you :)

𝜗𝜚 . back to navi ⋆ masterlist !

[kennykoms]

Hellooooo can I make a request where Kunikida has been away from his s/o for some time, whether it’s from a long mission away or the s/o had to go away on a business trip (up to you) and they see each other again and make up for lost time (if you get what I mean, wink wonk)

Can be smutty/suggestive as you like and I don’t mind f!reader or gn!reader! Thank you 🥰

I love this sm thank you smsmsmsm anon ily <3

- Okays so we know how busy the agency often is and our sweet Kunikida likes to get everything done to absolute perfection

- This man literally writes everything in his planner and will break down if he misses anything

- Often resulting in you comforting overworked Kunikida (I will 100% write this as a soft fluffy fic)

- You had also been super super busy with your own personal work (family, career etc.) so you hadn't been able to see him much either :(

- You still texted each other good morning and goodnight

- He obviously had to message you to remind you to drink water, eat and take care of yourself (this man has it all written in his book aww)

- Either way it had been ages since you last felt each others touch

- Yosano clearly noticed how much Kunikida missed you because he started staring at the picture of you he has on his desk and zoning out (aw) and he was more iritable than usual

- She convinced (yelled at) him to take a break and eventually managed to get you both some time together (ily Yosano)

- You and Kunikida meet up at your favourite café

- This man's expression was so cute when he saw you (please he'd be so giddy and excited but he'd wanna put up a tough front to not make a fool of himself help)

- He'd also have practiced what he'd say in the mirror

- You both get your favourite drinks and some cake and talk to catch up (he may or may not have missed half your words because he's busy staring at your eyes. Damn how he missed them.)

- You both end up going back to his place where he immediately wraps his arms around you from behind

Kunikida had his arms wrapped around you from behind. One hand on your abdomen and the other around your chest in a tight embrace. He buried his face in your neck as he whispered

"I've missed you so much..."

You smiled softly and took his hand, guiding it to your lips as you kissed the back of his hand

"I know, love..."

NSFW DOWN BELOW

You're pushed back onto his bed as he climbs over you, capturing your lips in his as he holds your cheek, his other hand messing with the hem of your shirt.

He takes your shirt off, immediately throwing it aside and admiring the sight of you. You're perfect. Everything he could ever want and more.

He only stares briefly before giving a small peck to your lips and kissing down to your neck, earning a small gasp out of you. After all, he missed you like crazy and wanted to kiss every inch of you.

Pulling away after leaving a hickey, Kunikida starts trailing kisses down to your chest, skillfully slipping off your bra and continuing to kiss down your body. In between kisses he's mumbling

"Fuck, I love you. I love you so much. I can't live without you, my angel."

Once he reached your lower stomach, you sat up and grabbed at his belt, looking up at him with those eyes he adores.

He swiftly slides his pants off and watches as you fall to your knees before him, sliding his boxers off and taking his hardened length in your hand.

Kunikida let out a soft groan as your tongue licked a stripe up his tip.

"Ah- you know you don't have to-"

"Shh. I want to. Relax."

You lick another stripe before taking it in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head on his dick as he interwines his hand with your hair.

"Ahh..just like that.." he breathes out as your mouth works on his length.

His hands tighten their grip as he feels himself close to the edge, his breathing heavier and soft moans escaping his lips.

"O-Oh fuck- don't stop, I-"

He gasps out as he cums. You take it all and swallow causing Kunikidas cheeks to blush further.

"O-Oh my-"

"Shh, I love you."

With that, he picks you off the floor and pins you to his wall.

"It's only fair if I return the favour, right?"

Divider credit to cafekitsune <3

Omg so idk how good this is but I hope you like it <3

-Kennedy 💜

[ikkosu]

um umm. imagine giving prowl a hello/good morning kiss but hes not fully awake or his mind is somewhere else so later in the day he goes into some kind of meeting with a lipstick stain on his face.. when he finally realizes he hunts u down to Glare at you and demands you clean it bc its your fault (he just wants an excuse for physical contact oops side note thank u for feeding us all with all ur lovely work. 5 stars

🥺 aww thank you anon. that's so sweet of you pookie. glad you're enjoying my writings!! gobbles up the five star from the palm of your hand

Okay but that's is such a cuteee scenario oh my gosh I can't help but to write a little mini-fic this (a little incoherent I just woke up snskkdkj)

—PROWL'S snuggled up to your side. Even when he's sleeping, a gentle scowl is present on his face. And, the arm curled around your torso is almost like a metal bar, preventing you escape. For now, he's too tired to keep up appearances. Last night's report consisted of him re-writing the expense protocols and it is not a task an hour would suffice.

He came back sluggish and very much irritated. In the darkness of the room, alighted by the mere blue-ish flare of the moonlight, Prowl stands before your bed as a looming shadow. You recalled wheezing when he simply collapsed on top of you, immediately going limp after.

So, when you shift in the bed — it was almost time for work — he was all but annoyed : his bundle of warmth isn't going anywhere when he's got so comfortably snug, so he pits you close to his chassis, grumbling.

"No."

"No? Prowl. I've got work."

"It can wait." He murmered lazily, nose chasing for the warmth between the crook of your neck and shoulder. And, when he did — a little purr-like rumble thrummed from his chassis.

You blink. He's slurring in his sleep? Guess, even the strategic officer isn't immune to sleepy mumbles. With a playful smile, you cup his face plates, leaning in to kiss his cheek, lingering a little bit on the sensitive spot on his neck then the crook of his nose.

Subconsciously, Prowl leans forward, likely expecting a kiss on his lips but with an index on his forehead, you push him away gently.The peach cream lipstick stains the areas you've assaulted. But, hey. At least he knows who's stalling who, this lovely morning.

—

WHILE he's fixing up the last of his documents, Prowl can feel the stares churning through his back. He's got it ever since he walked into that damn room. Obviously, nobody is going to agree with the new 'protocols' he administered. Especially, the younger mechs. But the meeting had just finished, so what's with the staring? Why are they staring?

"Uh, Prowl?"

"What?" He clips and slams the briefcase shut.

When he whirled around, a biting chassis fervent on his tongue, he's greeted with the sight of the bug, smiling in amusement. Great. The scout.

"I don't know what game you're playing at And, likely, i'd rather not know." Prowl seethes. "But I suggest you cut it out."

As usual, he's not the most brightest mech, this morning.

"Alright, then." He shrugs with his servos up placatingly. "But I gotta say, though. Peach does suit you well. Always thought it'd be rouge red or magenta pink. Guess, I was wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"Not that it's bad. It's not bad, trust me." The scout grins. " I just didn't peg you as the type to wear make-up...."

—

"And, the generator?"

"Ah, yes. That." You scanned the clipboard, nitpicking the many stacks and stacks of paragraphs for a certain information. This, that, this and — "All stabilized, sir."

"Good work." He pats your shoulder. "Debrief in a few hours — I need the new recruits some time to understand the proceedings. Meanwhile, go have lunch. I won't keep you any longer."

"Understood."

With that your Supervisor had left. Dawdling a second longer flipping through the pages, you swivelled around. When you rounded the corner, still buried in your clipboard —

You feel cold metal curling round your wrists. And, you're suddenly pushed up against the wall.

"You." Prowl leans in, scowling.

You grin. "Oh? Good morning to you, too." .

"Clean it."

"Just a simple swipe of a napkin could do the job, prowl."

The grip on your wrist loosens and a servo clamps over your waist. His expressing, though, isn't unrelenting of a frown. "That's the thing, mouse — you inflicted this on me. So, you take care of it."

You raise a brow. "Sure, this isn't some kind of demand guised in the form of something else?"

Prowl doesn't say anything, expression all the more pinched and irritated — but the slight parting of his lips was telling.

You teetered on your tiptoes, hands on his shoulder plates and leaned up to kiss his cheek — the exact same spot you left a mark, this morning.

Prowl loosens visibly and turned away to hide the flare of warmth on his faceplates. Not without grumbling under his breath, of course.

If he wasn't so handsome when he's mad, you're not sure why you tolerate his crass attitude at all. If anything, he's like a cat that claws at you with every chance he gets — then begging for affection, later.

"If you wanted another kiss, you could've asked."

[aitadjcrazytimes]

It's been a good run

But it's time to bring this to a close!

The saga is over, C, T and I are all together. T and I are in the swing of it, C approves as much as it is possible for him to approve of anything, everyone knows about the blog and is chill.

C is back at his rightful place of walking his sister down the aisle.

I'm getting everything I want, and we're all free to make each other miserable until the day we die.

I'm not going to be updating this blog anymore! Nobody else involved with the situation will be submitting any more AITA posts either, because they are either not on tumblr or agreed it would be annoying.

I will say that there is some stuff on here that I've alluded to that isn't necessarily 100% in the spirit of things, so I've included some stuff below the cut for the folks who have caught onto that. I would not suggest reading it if you like how all of this played out and want to keep it that way. I know that's incredibly vague, but I'm not sure how to phrase it without making it weird?

Thank you all for listening and talking to me over the past few days! That's where I'm leaving it!

...

...

...

...Is everyone who wants to keep believing in the disaster polycule gone? Yes? OK!

So, this was fake. I made up the whole thing. TK and C and T and everyone else are fictional characters. Did I lie? Yes. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Q: All of it? Even the og AITA post? The followup AITA post? The screenshots?

A: All of it.

Q: Wh... Why did you do this...?

A: Well, first this all started as a Red vs Blue fanfic for the ship Chexer (Church/Tex/Tucker)-

It started as a fanfic for Chexer. However, I was already working on a different fanfic for RVB that was totalling about 15k words at this point (+ at least 90k to go), and I knew I would never have the time or energy to write this one. I thought: yknow. this would be really funny as an aita post.

Q: It was a fanfic of a Halo fanfic series.

A: Yep!

So, I submitted Tucker's perspective. I did not expect for it to get more than maybe 100 notes at most. I totally thought someone would call it out right away.

The funny part is, if I'd dedicated all this energy to a fic instead of this blog, I'd probably have about 15-20 thousand words of fic already, but whatever, can't ruin my personal day!

Also, I wanted to see how many people would figure it out/how long it would take for it to become too obvious that this was a fandom thing. I was dropping names and RvB lore since the beginning. A few people did figure it out, and I DMed them in private to let them know.

Q: But why make the blog then?

A: Because I love to lie and be a nuisance to the general populace! <3

It was always my intent to wait until Carolina's perspective got posted (i am honestly still shocked i got away with "Carey/Georgia/West Virginia/Alabama/Miss Louisiana 1988"), let it simmer for about a day, then come clean. Which is what I'm doing now!

The reason I'm coming clean now instead of dragging it out is because I don't want anyone to feel stupid or like they got duped. You're not stupid! You were a part of this story! This was, as one anon said, a creative writing project. It was a collaboration! Thank you so much for helping me!

That said, I'm sorry to anyone that finds this disappointing! I had a blast doing this, but I will not be doing it again. I have gotten my fill. I have had my taste of being an influencer, and now I can go on with my life without ever feeling like I need to start a youtube channel.

Q: How did you keep up with a consistent timeline?

A: I didn't, especially at first. But in my time as a liar who lies about things, I have found that usually people are willing to believe you when you say "yeah, i lied about that".

Q: Wait, what about the thing with your kid?

A: Yeah, I fucked up on this one. In the other fic I was/am writing, Tucker was around 33. So, when I was saying what Junior's age was, I subtracted it from 33 and got 18. It wasn't until I was showing my partner the blog and they said "Wait, he had his kid at 13??????" that I realized I had fucked up. Oops!

Q: Was it really ALL fake?

A: For the most part. I will say that I did actually drop chocolate cake all over my tits that one time and had to shower by myself like a fucking loser. That one was true. I did also get my nails done for the first time ever, which did actually affect my typing. And I am in a band (but so is Tucker, canonically)! There are a few other things as well, but I don't want to list all of them.

Q: DID you ever read homestuck?

A: Nope. And I never will.

Even the title, though I will say that the title I came up with was "Leonard "Alpha Bitch" Church's Decidedly Not Lo-Fi Beats to Get Nasty and Get Clean To: The Movie"

Q: So there was never a combination sex/bathtime playlist?

A: Maybe! But perhaps more accurately: the combination sex/bathtime playlist was inside of you all along. You can make it. There are only three songs on there that are canon to the lore of this blog. Those are No Children by The Mountain Goats, Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Krutch, and one unknown song from the album Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV by Coheed and Cambria (Yep, the call was coming from inside the house, I gave Church my music taste). I had intended this to be Wake Up, but it's out of my hands now. The rest is yours to fill in.

Q: What's your main blog, so I can follow you?

A: Hi, this is aitadjcrazytimes. You're not getting that.

Q: Your AO3 handle?

A: Nope, not that either.

You will never find me. And that's the way I want it. You will see me in every blog. Every new follower. Every stranger you meet on the street. You will look into your discord kitten's eyes, and you will absently wonder if he was the one behind aitadjcrazytimes. And you will never know for certain.

Q: But-

A: Let me live on in your memory. The only person who knows both who I am and the fact that I did this is my partner, who is not into RvB or commonly on tumblr. I am not a RvB blog. I am not a writing blog. I am a nobody on the fringes of tumblr society who's been here long enough to know how to remain in the shadows.

And, even if you do manage to find me, against all odds:

No one will ever believe you.

I am closing my askbox. I am also closing my messages. If you have anything to say to Tucker or Me (tumblr user aitadjcrazytimes), you are welcome to do so in the replies or reblogs, but you will not be receiving an answer. I'll keep this blog up for anyone that wants to go through after the fact and do a deep dive or what have you.

Thanks to everyone who made this into the wild ride it was! Live long and get fucked or whatever! Xoxo <3

[zombiigrll]

Could you make a fic for Carl where he’s kind of yandere-like? You can get creative with it, but just something creepy like that. It’s okay if not! 💛

──────────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

BLOODY VALENTINE. ⋆｡°✩ yandere!carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 1.5K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ use of y/n, gore mention, blood, murder, 'yandere-like' carl (i hate using the word yandere but i don't know what else could be used T_T), crying, vomit, takes place in alexandria .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ it was pretty obvious you and carl had liked each other for a while. but after you started getting close with ron, carl started to change. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you so much for the request anon! i've never really written something like this before so i hope its to your liking <3 also this ofc isn't in character for carl, so i know some of the writing isn't gonna seem like him n stuff :p

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────────────────────────── you had known carl since the prison. michonne found you on a run and took you in. and ever since then, you and carl would always hangout together. you were practically inseperable.

...that was until you guys arrived at alexandria and you met a boy named ron.

you and carl met him together when his mother and rick decided it'd be nice if the two of you made friends with people your guys' age. "you guys have video games?!" you immediately took interest to the moving characters on the television in front of ron and the boy named mikey.

"yeah, you want a turn?" ron asked, moving the controller toward you.

"yes, please!" you beamed, reaching to grab the controller from his hand when your finger grazed his, making you flinch a bit in embarrassment. "oh, sorry."

carl instantly noticed this interaction and walked over, ripping the controller out of your hand.

you frowned. "hey-"

"we're leaving." carl looked at you, then back at ron angrily.

"uh, why?" ron raised an eyebrow, squinting at carl.

carl scoffed, throwing the controller back to ron and aggressively grabbing your hand in his, practically dragging you out of the house.

"dude, what the fuck?" you shoved carl away from you once the two of you got outside.

"i don't like him. he's weird." carl blankly said, staring down at you as if your reaction was unnatural.

"he didn't even do anything! all he did was give me a controller, what's so weird about that?"

"he just met you and he's already trying to make moves-"

"no, carl. he wasn't. he was being nice." you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms together. "if anyone is being weird, it's you. what's wrong with you right now?"

carl looks at the ground and laughs before bringing up a hand to the side of your face. "nothing is 'wrong' with me. i'm fine."

"obviously not. you've never acted like this before." you shoved his hand away, shaking your head.

carl looks at you, upset, but at the same time, furious. "whatever." he walks away, shoulder-checking you as he passes.

you look back at him, confused. carl was the sweetest boy you've ever met. he's always been there for you through everything, so what is the matter with him right now?

you brushed the thoughts away and walked back into rons house, trying to clear your mind from whatever the hell is happening with carl right now.

...

the two of you hadn't spoken to each other in a while. you've been spending your time becoming acquainted to the people of alexandria, and he'd been off doing whatever.

you haven't really seen him at all, except for when you'd go home. he'd be on his porch, shaking his leg with his arms crossed. every. single. day.

he was scaring you, and you weren't confident enough to ask him what's wrong. especially not after the way he shut you down last time.

you were sure it was just him going through puberty. you never knew how boys developed, so you assumed all boys acted like how carl was acting. jealous and insecure.

you didn't even like ron, not like that. he was dating enid, and you liked carl, even if he was being weird. you just wanted to make new friends.

but today felt awful. you woke up with a sick, eerie feeling laying in your stomach. something felt wrong, but you didn't know why. you put your clothes and shoes on and stepped outside, and alexandria was silent.

"...hello?" you called out loudly. no answer.

you looked around your surroundings and noticed that some cars were missing, which you assumed was due to rick and a few others going out on a run together.

'maybe ron is here?' you thought as your gaze went towards his house. you started walking closer to the dimly lit building. as you stepped onto the porch, you rung the doorbell twice. "hello? is anyone home?" you asked through the door.

you heard a voice from the other side. "shit." a raspy, distressed voice spoke.

"are you okay?" you knocked on the door loudly as that sound.

silence.

"i'm coming in." you quickly opened the door, a disgusting stench filling your nose. "what the hell..?"

you looked around and the living room and it looked normal for the most part, despite some oddly moved furniture and some glass on the ground. but that smell. it was nauseating.

"who's there?" you asked, looking around at your surroundings as you stepped closer to the hallway, which was also closer to the strong stench. "i know someone's in here, just answer-"

you froze as you looked ahead through the doorframe and into ron's room.

there was blood everywhere. and a figure facing away from you wearing a very familiar sheriffs hat.

"oh, my god." you gagged, covering your mouth with your hand as your eyes widened at the scene.

a clinging sound was heard, a bloody knife falling to the ground. right besides ron and mikeys bodies.

you were about to pass out. you brought up your arm to hold onto the doorframe for support.

"...what did you do?"

the boy didn't respond. instead, he turned to face you. there was blood stained all along his face and body, and his eyes looked dark. he stepped closer to you, which made you step away in fear.

"i'm not going to hurt you." he softly spoke, reaching out a bloody hand in your direction.

your eyebrows furrowed in fear as you looked him straight in the eye. "are you kidding me..?"

carl brought his bloodstained hand up to your cheek, resulting in the fresh blood spreading along your face and a shiver rolling down your spine.

"i love you."

as he spoke, your faces were inches apart, the smell of iron filling up through your nose. your eyes widened further and you shook your head away from his hand. "you.. you killed ron, you killed mikey, and... now you're saying you love me in a room splattered in their blood?" you laughed fearfully.

he stayed silent, taking in your terrified expression.

"you told me you'd always keep me safe. you'd always make sure i would never feel afraid again." you reminded him, stepping further back. "you failed. miserably."

"y/n-"

"don't." you cut him off. your eyes focused back to the bodies, and you fully processed everything. your body jerked up and you threw up right by your feet. "..holy shit."

"i just.." carl shook his head. "i didn't want to lose you. i didn't want you to leave me."

"so you fucking murdered ron and mikey?!" you yelled, wiping your mouth off with your sleeve. "do you hear yourself?"

carl stayed silent, staring down at the ground with clenched fists.

"i liked you, carl. only you." your voice softened as tears began glazing over your eyes. "there wasn't any competition. it was only you."

carl looked over at you, wide eyed and confused, more guilty than before. "..what?"

"you didn't have to.. to kill people to show you love me." you pointed behind him, reminding him of what he did.

he was speechless. guilty as ever. he was shaking frantically. tears flooded his eyes as he brought a hand up to his face, which only resulted in more blood spreading across his already bloodstained face.

you laid your head on the wall, recollecting your self. carl just stood by the doorframe spacing out.

"...what do we do now?" he finally spoke, his voice wobbly and quiet.

"i don't know!" you snapped again, raising your hands over your head. "it's your mess."

"please, y/n." he begged, running a hand through his hair. "what can i do to fix this?"

"i..." you trailed off, staring at the whole scene again. "shit, carl."

you walked into the bathroom at your side and threw a towel and bucket of water out to him. "clean it up." you said before turning around to walk out of the house.

"wait." he called out.

"what?"

"are you going to tell anyone.. what i did?" his voice sounded scary, but terrified.

"not if you don't get caught." you sighed. "forge a note, hide their bodies, whatever. i'm not apart of this anymore."

carl nodded somberly. "i'm sorry."

you left the house.

...

things weren't normal at all after that day. i mean, why would they be? carl hid what happened the best he could, actually taking your advice to forge a note. you kept your word and stayed silent. jessie was a mess after that day, unsure why her boy and his best friend 'left alexandria.'

you didn't know how to feel about carl anymore. he loved you still, as far as you could tell, but you couldn't understand your feelings for him.

you knew you still loved him despite everything. but you felt as if you couldn't forgive him for taking away the first friend your age you'd made, and taking jessies son away from her.

he was basically just some sort of bloody valentine to you.

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[shuchu]

im not even a kyo stan but like 😳 imagining the trope where childhood friends get seperated for a while and when they reuinte again, person a is shocked at how much person b has changed and now person a is confused and flustered around person b 🥺

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ different but familiar ₊˚ෆ

character(s): kyo kaneko

note: gn!reader ; fluff ; not proof read!

a/n: oh gosh i haven't written a proper fic in ages... i apologise if this is sloppy ;w; but hey, my first kyo fic o_o despite being a kyomie for a while now lol oops. i actually really enjoyed writing this, it made me feel all soft and warm on the inside hehe. this kinda ended on a cliffhanger, let me know if you guys want a part two!! thank you anon for the idea!! enjoy lovelies ♡

art credit

you were on your way to the coffee shop nearby to get your coffee before heading to work. you take a deep breath of the crisp autumn air as you walk through a carpet of leaves, hearing them crunch beneath your feet. you swing open the door and hear the little jingle of the bell before the delicious smell of freshly baked pastries mixed with the fragrant scent of coffee wafts towards your nose. a faint smile graces your features as you walk towards the counter to order.

"hi what can i get for you today?" the cheerful cashier asks.

"i'll have an oat milk cappuccino with 2 shots of espresso as well as a croissant please." you respond, giving the cashier a friendly smile.

"will that be all?"

"yep! thank you!"

just as you were about to pull out your card to pay, you see someone reach forward to tap their card on the machine. you turn to your left to see who it was. a guy with light blue hair smiles at you and says, "my treat."

as you walked over to the collection counter with him, you were trying to figure out why this guy looked so familiar. did you know him?

and then it hit you...your eyes widened as you looked at him

"kyo?"

he turned towards you with a soft chuckle, "took you long enough."

"oh my gosh...i haven't seen you in..." your voice falters as you try to recall the number of years

"thirteen years." he says as he looks at you with a small smile

"oh wow...it's been that long huh? how've you been? i hope mr. and mrs. kaneko have been well."

"oh yeah i've been busy, got a job that literally takes up all of my time. my parents are doing good though, thank you for asking about them."

"so...what brings you back to our quaint little town?"

"well...my mom and dad wanted to meet some old friends and catch up with them. i've been working tirelessly for months without a break so i decided..."

kyo's voice drifts off, melting together with the background ambiance of the coffee shop as you stare shamelessly at him, noticing the changes in his appearance since you last saw him.

oh wow, when did he get his ear pierced? his face changed a lot...it's a lot more defined now. also, he shot up so much what the heck?! i was taller than him when we were kids...that's so unfair, why do guys get so much taller after puberty...wait, was he always this handsome...?

"hey...hey y/n...are you done checking me out?" kyo's voice gets clearer again as you snap out of your thoughts. you feel your cheeks heat up after getting caught staring at him and because of the close proximity between the both of you. he leaned in to get your attention and now both of your faces were just a few inches apart.

you avert your gaze to compose yourself and mumble, "i wasn't checking you out..."

he leans back and chuckles, "uh huh...so tell me what i said then." he teases, a smirk evident on his face.

you stay silent because obviously you didn't hear what he said, he chuckles and flicks your forehead gently, "you haven't changed a bit, always spacing out."

you move your hand to rub the spot he flicked with a pout, "quit it, you're still as annoying as you were back then." you giggle after and he laughs too. it felt nice to joke around with him again. your heart swells with happiness, you've missed him — more than you thought you did.

the barista calls out your name and you go to grab your order.

"i'm assuming you're headed off to work now, where do you work by the way?"

"oh it's just 3 blocks down, that massive office building?"

"oh yeah, i know which one you're talking about. what time do you get off work?"

"6pm."

"oh perfect, i'll see you then. we need to have a proper catchup. dinner's on me too." he says with a boyish grin.

"no that's okay, i can-"

"nuh uh uh, no can do. um...i'm sure you have to start walking, it's almost 9am. you don't wanna be late to work do you?" he says as he places his hands on your shoulders and swivels you around to face the direction of your office.

you click your tongue and start walking, turning your head back to respond to him, "we'll see mr kaneko. i'll have my card ready this time."

"byeee! good luck at work! i'll see you at 6!" he calls out as he waves at you

you wave too and turn back around with a sappy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed. well that's something to motivate me to get through work today

[aliorsboxostuff]

MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS OPEN!

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. Please be aware that i write based on my current fixations. Fixations may vary in how much i want to write them so i’ll be ranking from the MOST interested to the LEAST interested but will write. Please be patient in waiting for your fics as i, sadly, have IRL work to worry about too! 

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut 

Platonic or Romantic relationships

Kid!reader (ONLY platonic-parental relationships)

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST!

Current immediate fixation:

HOUSE MD (Up to s2)

Gregory House 

James Wilson

Robert Chase

Lisa Cuddy

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

MORTAL KOMBAT 1

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Tomas Vrbada

Syzoth

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Boothill

Welt

Sampo

Gallagher

Dr. Ratio

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

Less interested (but will write) Fixations:

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands. 

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

[sweet-s0rr0w]

helloooooo sweet i peeped in your wireless reveal that your next long fic is coming NEXT YEAR eep! 100k of sweet sweet sweet's prose—i am SALIVATING.

wondering if you want to share a tiny little morsel, a crumb, a nibble as we eagerly await what will surely be a masterpiece <3 a snip? a plot point? something about your long fic writing process if any or all of the above is confidential?

(as always, no pressure to share or answer this ask! just trying to be better about contributing to ask culture/doing public tumblr asks so fandom doesn't get siloed <3)

Helloooo El! So lovely to hear from you. I've been really absent from fandom for most of this year, not had the energy to chat with many people, and just about managing to dip my toes back in now, so thanks for thinking of me <3

Haha, my long fic! It's an idea I've had for years now - two things I've wanted to write for ages: older Drarry, and fast sexual/slow romantic burn. It involves a lot of forced proximity, and general peril, and an OC who I love, and a canon HP character I've never written before. I'm hoping that the stars align and I can submit it for Big Bang 2025 - in fact, I was writing it for this year's, until the announcement came that there wouldn't be a fest in 2024 - so I can't say any more about the content as details have to stay anon until author/artist matching.

My long fic writing process, though, is no secret <3 the first thing I ever wrote was 110k, and I had absolutely no plan, no outline, started in the middle, jumped from scene to scene, and when I got stuck I'd chuck the baby in the sling and walk around the block until I'd solved my problem. This time round, you know, bit more experienced (haha), the fic has more worldbuilding, a more complex plot - I thought I'd buy Scrivener and do what the grown ups do with making character cards and notes and little tabs for the different scenes and stuff. Anyway, long story short: I've written the 55k I've got so far in MS Word, I've jumped around all over the place, and my 'outline' is a collection of dialogue snippets meant for the scenes I haven't written yet. There really is no hope!

What about you, though? As you know, I adore your writing, your last two Wireless fics have been must-reads for me, and I'm eagerly awaiting the completion of your current WIP. What's your process? Are you a chaotic mess like me or do you actually manage to plan things in advance? 🙈🙈