#since they’re moving and swinging at the same time

[sicc-nasti]

Tfw you make the biggest mistake of your life (for the fifth time that day)

Surprisingly I reference a lot of tennis poses for Scout. They work so well for him :)))

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Hiii! Could you imagine one where the reader finds out she's pregnant during one of Spencer's missions and when he comes home she has a crisis and ends up feeling ill and Spencer doesn't know how to help and the reader doesn't know how to tell him she's pregnant. (Both are already married)

i took this opportunity to set my pregnant!reader series into the future cause i already planned for them to have another child. request is tweaked justttt a little.

“my dear sweet penny, can you hit me with a bus? i want this misery to end.” you’ve been hit with the worst stomach bug or flu or just something that’s been lasting since spencer went on his case, five days ago.

your mom took your daughter for the day when you realized you weren’t getting out of bed anytime soon and you called in your reinforcement of one penelope garcia. the case ended yesterday but the team had to stay an extra day due to weather in their state, so penelope has been keeping you company for the past two days. it was nice to have an adult conversation instead of bluey and the same princess movies.

“okay, if you’re pleading for death that means it’s time to head over to a hospital. i don’t want spencer to hypothetically bite my head off if something happens to you.” her bright blonde hair was your shining sun in your darkened bedroom. and her jewelry were loud gongs with each step she took. “i hate to sound like a bitch but can you like, be the opposite of yourself today?” moaning and groaning as you tried pushing off the tossed sheets.

“yeah, you need a doctor. cause and i quote ‘penny if i even say to change yourself i’ve been abducted and that’s an alien.’ hopefully they can give you good drugs.”

at the hospital they took some blood, made you pee and just did a bunch of other check ups when it was shown you were sick with anything. so after an hour or so your doctor renters the sterile room with his clipboard and a poker face. “well, you’re not sick, but you are pregnant. we’ll get an ultrasound in here to check on the fetus.” talk talk talk and then he left again, leaving you and penelope open mouthed shocked.

“holy shit,” breathing out as your hand rubbed over your still small belly. “i told spencer i couldn’t keep my hands to myself.” telling that to the ceiling.

“oh, i’ll have another godchild! i’m so happy to live vicariously through you.” penelope stood at your side and smiled down at you. you turned your head towards her, “you know when they’re older, you’ll be our go-to babysitter then. so just be prepared for that.”

with the ultrasound done they confirmed you were almost done with your first trimester and that left you a bit shocked. you were three months pregnant but didn’t know, now you understand how some of those other ladies feel. but you were excited for another, but then you were done, seriously.

you tried calling spencer after leaving but his phone when to voicemail, but you didn’t think anything of it. probably feel asleep or out doing something with his team. so when you arrived to your mom’s place you were a bit surprised to see your husband holding your daughter and swinging her around.

“you’re back!” penny the first to speak and move further into the home. spencer and anna both turned their heads and smiled at the bright lady. “auntie penny!” your annabeth squealed with an arm out.

she happily took her from spencer’s hold and moved her away so you could talk with spencer. his puppy eyes and downturn mouth made your heart soar, oh how he’s gonna get you into so much trouble.

“you feeling better? your mom said it’s been a week.” pulling you into his hold, cheek pressed into his chest as his palms rubbed over your shoulder blades and spine. you sighed, “yeah, penny took me to the doctor. turns out i wasn’t sick… i was- i am pregnant.”

spencer’s hands stopped and leaned back, “what?” his brows raised into his curling locks. “how far along?” “three months…” biting into your bottom lip as you watched him go through his mental calendar. you both knew your period was irregular, that’s why you didn’t think anything of it.

“so it must’ve been sometime after annie’s fourth birthday,” spencer came to the conclusion. leaned in to peck your forehead, “are you okay with another?” always making sure you were okay with the decision.

you smiled up at him with a twinkle in your eyes, “absolutely.”

[lustlovehart]

Bitten Hope

A/n: loosely inspired by @merakiui ‘s DRU Jade and Death Row Floyd, not exact though, but I really liked her writing on their serial killer counterparts and took inspo!!

Pairing: Serial Killer! Jade Leech x Reader x Serial Killer! Floyd Leech

Summary: Interrogating criminals is your job, it’s rare for that to go wrong. Though, it’s even more rare for them to be infatuated with their investigator.

Warnings: Heavy Yandere [mdni] , Blood, Biting, Cuffing, Kidnapping, Violence, Dub-con kissing (not on mouth), aged 18+, Imprisonment

You’re stood on the other side of the one-way-looking glass. You can see them, but they can’t return that gaze. The two of them aren't eerily silent. No… they’re laughing and conversing as if this was just a regular brotherly reunion. To them, it might just be that, two brothers who are finally talking to one another after a year of only speaking through calls.

“Seems you’re still the same, Floyd”

“Well duhh, I don’t have that time you do to plan them out, I jus’ wanna get it over with”

“Perhaps that’s why you were caught much earlier than me.”

“Well you got jailed too so that doesn't change anythin’” Floyd leans back in the chair, his head craning up to look at the bright buzzing lights of the room.

“Ya think they’re gonna bring Shrimpy in?“

To this statement, the other twin looks at him, curiosity filled in those mismatched eyes.

“My, are you saying [name] is here?“

“Oh right, I didn’t tell ya cuz it woulda’ been lame if you knew,“ his head jumps back into place, a bubbly smile replacing his previously disinterested expression, “Yep! Shrimpy’s here, ain’t that nice~“

On the other side of the glass, you’re left balling your fist into itself.

How… How could they—!

A steady hand on your shoulder breaks your trance, the familiar sight of bright red somewhat comforting the tension in your joints.

“They were off-putting in our school years but, no one would’ve known how it was gonna turn out this way.” You place your hand above his, offering a smile to him to show your body easing itself.

“Yo Jade.”

“Yes?” Once again, Floyd’s mood changes, shifting from cheerful to… scary. The same aura can be felt from Jade but to a more concealed degree.

“I wanna break the glass.” You and Riddle's head turn immediately at the man’s suggestion.

“Pray tell how would you do that?” he tilts his head and strikes his signature close-eyed smile at his twin “And why do you wanna do that?”

“Dunno, wait till these cuffs come off.” His hands lift as the sound of clanging chains resonate through the empty room, his brother only smiling as he looks down at his own. “And I don’t like the vibe I got on the other side.”

You quickly move out of Riddles range, his hand grasping for where your shoulder previously was.

“Wha— You’re going in alre—?! [Name]—” You don’t reply, the sound of the door swinging open and shutting filling the silence of the space.

“Oh my. You should be more careful, any stronger and we could’ve broken free from these.” You sit on the other side of the steel table, crossing your legs as you lean into the cold metal.

Floyd’s been on death row for a month now, but he hasn’t given any leads. And Jade… he just got here. Maybe if the both of them are together we can…

“When. You can tell me.”

“When are we gonna marry Shrimpy? As soon as we get out—“

“No. When did you start? Killing. When did you start being murderers.” Jade lays his hands on the table, his biceps and forearms visibly buff as well as veiny.

“When do you think?”

“ Are you avoiding the question?”

“No, of course not, I’m just simply asking if you know—“ Floyd’s upper half quickly flops onto the surface, a loud sigh interrupting you and Jade.

“Since the last year of school, now can we talk about Shrimpy ‘stead, talkin bout us is boring”

“Floyd…” Jade's lips are pursed in a line, he expected his brother's outburst but he hoped it would come later compared to sooner.

“Whaat, the faces people made when I strangled them aren’t fun to think about anymore,” his body stays flopped, only turning his head as his smile is aimed towards you. “So shrimpy, yah still single right~? Savin marriage for us yeah?”

“You… I am not!”

“But you’re still available? I see.” Their flirtatious comments only serve as a way to piss you off even more.

“You two… I’m not going to marry serial killers…!”

“Then do not think of us as killers, think of us as your lovers.”

“I will not…! Ugh… just be quiet and answer me.” They don’t reply only giving you the smiles they would flash at you when school was still happening. I can’t be obvious with my questioning—

“About 250.”

“Jade, what are you talking about…?”

“You were about to ask us how many victims we’ve had yes?”

…

…What? What? We only linked 8 of those murders to Jade how could he possibly—

“Floyd, what about you?” Floyd looks up at the sky, his face almost cartoony as he ponders about the answer as if he’s on TV.

“Uhhh, dunno. I didn’t count. Was a big number too though.

… How did these two even—

…

“ Where are these people now? How did you do it to them?”

“Shrimpy wants to know real bad huh’. Okay, I’ll tell yah.“ you didn’t think his grin could grow any bigger but it does, somehow. “but yah gotta lean in close.”

Ignoring the obvious risk of getting too near, if you do this… you have the opportunity to finally know what’s happened to all these people. All those missing person cases… you can find out just how many of them were the faults of these two.

You look back at the glass for a moment. Knowing that Riddle is on the other side eases your tension, albeit only a little. Well…

You hope he’s on the other side.

Your body slowly leans towards him, each second making you wanna back out, but pushing through it despite that gnawing feeling.

Floyd’s smile seems to be the biggest it's ever been. His face comes closer to your own, his voice low as the whisper that leaves his lips sends chills throughout your body.

“Ya ready?”

It happens too fast. He’s swift with the movement, before you can fully lean back to avoid it, you can feel it. His lips are felt on your cheek before the tender texture is replaced with sharp edges that dig into the nape of your neck. Your fingers lock into his hair, immediately pulling yourself free from his Jaws.

The chair you originally sat on is knocked back onto the floor. The clattering sound of the seat resonated through the walls.

“Awwww shrimpy looks cute with red all over!” He flashes his teeth, once white canines, are now painted in red. The sight makes you freak out, both of your hands flying up to the wound in your neck, putting immediate pressure on the bite.

He didn’t hit anything vital, only deep enough to bleed me… but if I don’t get this wrapped up it might get infected.

You don’t spare them any more words, immediately walking to the door and gripping the handle. You swing it down pulling the exit inwards.

…

It won’t open.

It won’t…

“My I do wonder where that other officer went…” Your head stays locked on the handle, not even daring to turn back to face them.

“Goldfish s’out already? I wanted him to see you in red, ain’t that his favorite color?”

“How did you…?”

“Tarts, they do smell incredibly sweet, don’t they? Though, I do prefer eating their consumers instead.” It’s uncanny. Jade is putting on that… that smile…! He’s spotless, unlike his brother, the brother that’s exuding such a joyful aura with blood splattered on his mouth… The brother doesn’t seem bothered at all by the iron liquid that is absorbed in his jumpsuit.

“So that’s how… That’s how you covered up the rest of your victims…”

“Yes. Now do you understand self-control as well?” His eyes slowly trail down to your hands as he speaks, his tongue quickly wiping his lips before retreating inside. “It takes a lot of restraint to not take a bite out of such a lovely meal. I’m quite jealous of Floyd.”

“You wanna…?”

“Eat you? Oh no, not anymore. But, just a little nibble doesn’t hurt any—“

Clang!!

Your focus is caught by the sudden explosion of sound. Your eyes quickly shift to the interruption.

“So that’s how you gotta do it. It ain’t that much Jade, you jus’ pull up real hard.”

…

Floyd is out.

“It was that simple? Then let’s be quick.” Jade follows his brother's instructions, the same clanging sound ringing in the space. “It’s much more comfortable not having our hands chained to that cold metal table. It seems I even have bruises on my wrist from such capture.” He’s not lying, his wrists are littered with purple bruises, but you bet he was the one who caused those himself, not the cuffs.

“Look look!” the two of them circle the table, each step they take more menacing than the last. “Jades got a booboo on him, you gonna kiss it all nice and better right~“

Jade plays along seamlessly, wiping away tears that aren’t there at all. “Yes… It hurts a lot, it would feel much better if someone made it all better.“

“you…! I’m not going to-!“

“Jades hurt. You gonna fix him or what?“ His voice is deep, it’s not playful anymore, and his face is practically inches from your own, it’s horrifying... If you keep rejecting them you… You don’t wanna guess what’ll happen.

Riddle… Deuce… Why isn’t anybody coming?! Even if Riddle left for a moment he should be back, even then someone would’ve checked up on us…! Where… where…?!

“Won’t you heal me, nurse?“

This was so stupid! I should’ve come in with Riddle, or told him to come in with me! With how quickly I rushed in I didn't bring any of my weapons I’m…!

Your knees give out beneath you, falling onto the floor while the twins followed you down. Your fingers reach towards Jade, pulling his limb close to your mouth. The two of them smile at you, watching carefully each movement with an overabundance of joy.

Your lips make contact with the skin of his wrist. You don’t focus on the texture of his hand, only putting all your attention on this task.

“It still hurts dear, I would like more.“

This is humiliating.

“Shrimpy’s cute kissin’ you like that, I wanna take another bite.“

You keep going with Jade, placing more kisses on that one wrist before transferring to the next one.

Someone… Anyone please…!

Floyd leans into the side of your neck, the side completely clean and, un-marked. His mouth opened and his hot breath coated the skin of your side. You don’t stop your assault on Jade's hands, only acting as if Floyd isn’t readying himself to bite you again.

I’m gonna die. These two are gonna kill me.

To your right, wind blows next to you, the brighter light of the hallways illuminating into the room.

Someone… Someone came…! I’m free…!

“Rid–!... dle…?“

“You two… You couldn’t wait any longer than 20 minutes could you?!“

A man wearing a black hoodie and surgical mask walks in, the baseball cap and sunglasses covering any distinguishing traits he could possess.

“Ah, seems we forgot. Forgive us Azul.“

“It's not our fault you took so long, it wasn’t fun waitin’, we just wanted to mess with Shrimpy for a bit, s’not fair you got to play while we were locked in here.“

No… No…!

It’s been years since you’ve seen the con man. His looks have changed, but, he’s still the same it seems.

Hopefully… he doesn’t work out. Distantly, you can remember a point in time when you had wrestled Azul during your school years, albeit it was more of a surprise attack than an actual fight. You won against him.

Against the twins, even in NRC they had insane strength, so directly fighting them would’ve been a death wish, but with Azul, you might have a chance.

You pull all your leftover strength into your calves, pushing yourself up from the space between Floyd and Jade, ready to throw yourself at the man.

Before you even have a chance you’re pulled back down as a needle is pointed at your face. Jade's hand is tightly wrapped around your throat as Floyd’s arms squeeze around your waist.

“It’s rude to leave in the middle of a ‘party’ Is that not what you said to us back then?”

“You guys are leaving? Why?! A… special meeting? But I made all of you presents…! Look, I spent so much time making little eels and even an octopus…! Don’t go yet—! Oh, you’re not…? Great!”

“Where… Where’s Riddle…? Deuce…? Please I need to know—”

“They’re alive. Just asleep.” Azuls eyes look to the side, a little red blob reflected on his lenses when he turns.

“Really…? Good good…”

“But only if you behave.” His leather shoes take a few steps forward before kneeling down, his eyes scanning your body. Mostly unharmed, besides the vicious bite Floyd left on you. “Floyd did you really—” his eyes pinch together before his finger massages the nose of his bridge, the most exhausted exhale leaving his mouth at the sight,” It's… whatever, unless you two wanna stay on death row we have to go now.”

My best choice is to let them go, I'm unarmed and no one else is coming so… I’ll just use the building's cameras to figure out what they plan to do next.

“You guys can leave, no ones… no one’s going to stop you—” your body is lifted into the air, your stomach having the sharp pain of a shoulder blade driving into it.”w-wait stop…!” your legs kick and flail all around, but the hold Floyd has on your body doesn’t falter for a second.

Before you can lift your arms to hit him from behind, Jade locks them together using a spare pair of handcuffs he stole off Riddle’s unconscious body. His finger plays with the chain between the cuffs as a smirk plays on his lips at your struggle.

“I wouldn’t advise it.” His finger makes your hands move up and down before hooking the underside with his index. He doesn’t let up, successfully locking your hand from further use.

“We have 10 minutes to drive out of here, you two are lucky this place is on the edge of town.”

No… Please…!

Before you leave the room, your eyes take a glance at Riddle's body. It’s only a slight bit of movement, but you can see him stir up, his head turning to face the doorway.

He can’t move. It’s over.

The last thing you see before being swept away is the bright red of his pupils widening at the sight of you bitten and taken.

“[Name]… Stop… Don’t take…!”

A quick glance is all it takes before his eyes shut close again, the last thing his vision pieces together being the sight of your form carried away from view. The tall silhouettes of Jade and Floyd shrouding in shadows as they leave through the doors, the hooded figure waving his hand before following behind. The trail of officers littered behind them is a sad sight.

As they leave, their disappearance will leave a stir in their community, all that’s left being the view of their successful escape.

“[Name] [Last], missing, please call 911 if any leads.”

———

This is leaning towards heavier dark tones than what I usually write, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway <3

[wandaspup]

Sinners Part Two

Summary: In a small town, you try living up to your mother’s expectations while encountering Wanda Maximoff, a mysterious woman and a childhood friend of your mothers. It leaves you questioning her intentions and your beliefs.

Parings: Wanda x Fem R

Warnings: None besides Wanda testing the waters with you (will be added as I update! ♥️ Happy reading)

Author notes: You are 19 years old while Wanda is 36. Story will be updated every two weeks! Two more chapters left (: Thank you everyone for reading this.

Please read the first chapter if you come across this one first for new readers!

Wanda’s Masterlist

You sauntered downstairs, the clacks of pans getting louder as you descend further into the kitchen. Your mother focused on getting the food on the table. She pointed towards the counter. “Set the silverware and make sure they’re properly placed this time.” 

Today Wanda was coming over. After you got home from Church, she was all you can think about from yesterday. You can still remember the way her expressions shifted when she looked at you, as those eyes followed you around before or so you kept thinking. Even when you sleep, you can still feel her presence lingering in the corner of your room. You know she isn’t there, but glimpses of her face in your dreams felt so real. 

The first time you dream about her, the encounter of déjà vu washes over you. Maybe you were going insane and thinking of another woman around town. 

You placed the silverware carefully, aligning each one just as your mother taught you. Hopefully she won’t throw a tantrum over a spoon placed an inch to the left. She seemed too focused on what she was doing and you’ve never seen your mother this tense or excited. She never mentioned Wanda, but she never mentioned anything about her life back then. She told you It’s a waste of time to babble on about such things. 

The doorbell echoes and you pause, momentarily staring at the silverware in your hand before carefully placing them aside and making your way to the front. You breathe in and out one last time for a good measure and gripped the handle and twisted. The door swings open, your eyes widen in surprise, and it takes you a moment to register Wanda standing before you. She wears a flaxen dress, its fabric rippling in the light breeze and delicately skimming against the sides of her thighs. Her dress reached halfway, giving you a good glimpse at her sun-kissed legs, glistening. A yellow flower nestled in her hair on the left side. She beams and snaps her fingers.

You mentally berated yourself and offered a swift apology. 

Wanda chuckled, her laughter , crossing her arms in front of her. Her smirk widened, and she glanced past you, nodding towards the entrance. “Well, darling, are you planning to keep me waiting out here all day?”

As you stepped aside, she gave you that look, the exact same one back outside the church and suddenly your heart pounded quicker. An aromatic honey apple scent overwhelmed as she passed, your head suddenly heavy as you closed the door and led her to the kitchen. Food was set evenly in the middle of the table, your father already took a seat with your mother. 

“Wonderful to see you again my dear friend.” She gestured at the seat across, and you noticed the only chair left was right next to her’s. Debating on moving it to the other side of the table, you figured your mother would scold you for being rude.

“Well I appreciate you having me over. It’s been awhile since we last saw each other.” 

From there It was nothing but short stories and awkward laughters between all of them. You kept your eyes on your plate, shuffling your food inside your mouth praying this dinner will end soon and you can lock yourself in your room. Once in a while, you’d sneak a glance whenever you heard Wanda speak or laugh at something your father said. Unbeknownst, Wanda knew your cute tactics of being sneaky without batting an eyelash. You’d do it again when she took a sip of wine, her lipstick staining the glass. 

Wanda’s chair screeched unexpectedly, apologizing when her fork slipped out of her hand and clattered to the ground. When she reached for it, she used your thigh for support, her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around with a light grasp, sending a shiver down your spine. "I think I need a new fork," she all but said, her hands still resting in the same place. "Apologies, darlin', hope you didn't mind me using you." Wanda grinned and motioned her hand back and forth before pulling away, leaving a lingering warmth on your thigh.

The weight of her hand was missed for some odd reason you were unable to comprehend. Usually, the gentle pats from an elderly woman at the bread store were just a friendly gesture, never thinking much of it. However, her touch stirred an entirely different sensation. 

One you were sure you’d be praying on your knees begging god forgiveness. You continued to eat, pretending everything was normal and Wanda was only an old friend of your mom’s coming to visit. Wanda went on to answer a few questions asked by your father, while you listened, waiting for Wanda to make her move on you. She seemed to always catch you by surprise. 

“No husband and no kids. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to have kids.”

“Surely the right man will come along in time hon. You’re a gorgeous woman and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing down at your plate. Wanda shrugged, tugging at her bottom lip before taking another bite. “Maybe, but I think I’ll manage just fine without one,” she said, lifting her glass for a sip and then turning her attention to you. 'What about you? Anyone catching your eye?

The question caught you by surprise but you responded casually, figuring she was trying to get to know you better. “No one at the moment, just focused on getting through college applications, ma’am.” You cleared your throat the second you finished, the last few words getting stuck. From the ugly expression your own mother gave you across the table, she scowled you for not speaking properly. 

Wanda squeezed your arm reassuringly, always ready to come to your rescue. “Oh, she's perfectly fine.” She winked and settled in for a few more bites from her own plate. “I do hope to see you all around town. I figured I’d be delighted to extend my stay.”

Your father nodded and gulped the little bit of wine he had left. “Well, Wanda, you're always welcome here. Perhaps you’d be able to help our daughter with her applications. We never have the time to assist her.

"I can manage just fine, father," you said confidently

Your mother cleared her throat and dabbed her mouth, nodding in agreement. "I don’t want you getting into some party college and wasting your life. God has a plan for you, and you'd better stick to it, girl. Wanda, what do you think?"

Wanda's nose scrunched up, her lips stretched, and a small twinkle settled in her green eyes. You pondered what thoughts were swirling in her head as she agreed. Despite the knot twisting a thousand times over, it seemed clear God did not intend for Wanda swooping in and destroying his plan.  

As you grappled with making sense of your emotions, the sensations from Wanda’s touch made you forget how to use your head. It wasn’t love but rather a twisted plan Wanda woven you into. 

“I should be going.” She scooched out as she stood up, extending her hand. She gazed over towards you. “Be a dear and walk me out.” 

With a brisk nod, you got up and waited for Wanda to gather herself before following her closely behind. You can hear your heart thumping, afraid she might even hear it. As soon as the front door opened, she turned around quicker than you could comprehend the situation. Her eyes floated down your body and back up to your face. “Sure do look beautiful honey.”

When you didn’t reply she grasped your chin between her fingers, one eyebrow raised. “What do we say when someone gives you a compliment?”

“Th—nk you ma’am.”

She hummed pleased. “I’ll be seeing you.”

TAGLIST:

Taglist is closed so the ones on the list will be added for the rest of the chapters until I figure out another way to do a taglist. I was thinking of the google survey thing I saw someone was doing.

if you didn't tag in this for some reason, I either typed in your user and tumblr couldn't find your account . (:

@ifthisaintmee @the-lakes89 @aru-son

@maximoff-jp @unicorniusfallapatorius @random-fag @natashaswife4125 @wndasdoll

@thursdayygrrrl @falloutboy-lover @obsessedwjill @ksandraxox @scarletnatsblog

@bbbyliv0202 @peyt-n @wandaswife13 @criticsstuff @kimlipimsingle @sam-h-69

@rowiebear @thalia-is-not-ok @immclovinmilfs

[winchester-with-wings]

Training Room Tension (Wolverine x f!Reader, smut)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!reader

Summary: Training is just another form of foreplay between you and Logan. That's why no one trains with you guys anymore. It's just awkward.

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut with a hint of sappy love and security at the end, dirty talk, taunting, unprotected sex, biting, spanking, rough sex, Rest In Piece(s) to your undergarments hehe, takes place in the X-Mansion, reader is some type of invulnerable mutant like Logan.

Word count: 2400

Author's Note: First time writing in forever! Praise be to "Deadpool & Wolverine" for bringing back my love and lust for Hugh Jackman. Wolverine in particular is one of my first loves. Shout out to by Bitchachos for reassuring me this obsession was okay. Love you guys! Thanks for reading and thanks to @pagesofivy for the title suggestion! I'm picturing older, thicker Logan from the 70s cuz of that mirror scene iykyk. But also love these XMen gifs. Ah hell I can't pick a favorite. He has aged sooooo well.

Hope people enjoy this and please don't be afraid to let me know! Words of Affirmation is my love language. LOL

I made a wolverine sideblog too because I want to reblog everything Logan and D&W related hehe ----> @feral4wolverine

Mobile Masterlist

The team rarely trains with you and Logan in the same room anymore. For a good reason too. Sure, in short exercises, they can manage you guys. You're both part of the team after all, but the longer training scenarios, they'll make do without. They just know their feral, indestructible teammates will do their part in the real world fights.

Because as much as Logan admires your strength and determination...he also cannot stand it. You're stubborn. You're defiant. You're a tease and he can't take it anymore.

“You’re slowing down, babe, and pulling your punches,” you tease, dodging his swing and sweeping his legs out from under him. He hits the ground with a loud thud. He rolls over, grabbing your ankle before you can get back up. He drags you along the mats as he stands. “Ah, nonono!” you laugh, your arms waving and trying to get a grip on the floor. You get your other foot under you and turn yourself over trying to kick or hook your leg around his neck to take him down.

It doesn’t work this time but at least he lets go of your foot. Back on even ground, you’re swapping blows, punches, and blocks. You curse almost as much as he grunts.

"Run that pretty little mouth one more time," he growls, his arms interlocked with yours as he blocks your attack again.

"Or what, old man?" You push back, breaking his hold, your skin is slick with sweat and it gives you an advantage over Logan…in more ways than one. You’re slippery and fast and his reaction time is slower as his gaze lingers on every inch of exposed, glistening skin.

He pounces and were he not already so close, you would have been able to dodge him. Your feet don't have a chance to gain traction though as you scramble to get away. He swiftly grabs you by the waist, tossing you over his shoulder.

The action is fast enough that it steals your breath away. You're kicking and protesting as he carries you out of the gym. All the tech and weaponry in the Danger Room have borne the brunt of Logan's claws too many times, so the two of you have been banished to the school's gymnasium. Logan takes two stairs at a time as he carries you off in the direction of your shared room. It’s far from the student’s quarters and the walls are soundproof from back when Logan’s nightmares were more frequent. They’re all but gone since you maneuvered yourself into his life.

(It’s technically still his room only, but he was never going to ask you to move in, so you’ve just started sneaking things in and leaving items behind until it was obvious. You know he’s noticed and cleared space for your abandoned items in his dresser, closet, and bathroom. He’s just too stubborn to admit defeat. And you’re happy to spare his ego and let him be the one to finally mention it.)

If anyone in the mansion hears your grumbling and cursing, they tune you out–already accustomed to you and Logan bickering. Your protests die in your throat as you take a sharp intake of air when he smacks your ass, his large hand definitely leaving a stinging mark. If it's not already red, he may spank you one or two more times...especially if you mouth off.

Once in his room, he tosses you onto his bed but you bounce back up and try to shove past him, a half-assed attempt to keep playing cat and mouse, to make him chase you some more. He hooks you around the waist and throws you back on the bed, this time bearing down on top of you. His body is strong, solid, and heavy with adamantium as he pins you down, his chest vibrating with a growl.

"No more talking."

"Oh baby, that's not how I fuck," you moan and hook one of your legs around his waist. One hand grabs his ass, giving you leverage to grind against him.

"Such a filthy mouth," he snarls, his teeth grazing your jaw before he nips at your ear. His facial hair scratches at your skin, raising goosebumps along your flesh. Your nipples tighten and ache, desperate for his mouth.

"You love it."

His chest vibrates with another deep growl just before he claims your mouth, your lips smashing together hard enough that your teeth make contact, and your lips get caught in the crossfire. There's a brief taste of iron but whomever it belongs to heals quickly, the sting relieved as his tongue delves into your mouth.

"Can't...stand it...anymore. Can't take it," he groans as he kisses you. He pulls away just to kiss and bite along your jaw, down the column of your throat.

"Poor thing, powerless to resist me?" you keen, your breath hitching as he bites your neck a little harder, his tongue soothing it a second later. You grind your hips, answering with your own moans, proud of yourself for getting a rise out of him. Your nails dig into his back, definitely tearing at his shirt. He pulls his head back and hisses as the sensation rides the border between pain and pleasure. He reaches for you, his hands shackling your wrists and pinning your arms by your head.

"Be a good girl for once and don't move," he commands you, releasing your hands so that he can take off his shirt and rip off his belt. He yanks your pants down, getting increasingly agitated as he struggles with the fabric. With your shirt, he pulls it up until it bunches around your wrists, effectively shackling you. As for your sports bra and underwear…

"Nonono!"

SNIKT!

"Sonuvabitch!" you curse as he cuts the fabric with one of his claws. He just chuckles. He's slowed down just for a moment to drag a single claw down the middle of your sports bra, along the line of your cleavage. Your breasts spill out as he cuts the straps next. Your breasts are bared to him and he lavishes them with the attention you crave. You no longer keep your hands above your head as you card your fingers through his thick hair, pulling on it as you arch your back and press your breasts further into his hands and mouth. He bites at your supple flesh as his fingers knead your nipples into aching peaks. A mewling whimper escapes your lips as you roll your hips against him some more but his jeans are still on.

"Are you gonna fuck me, or do I need to get myself off?" you challenge him while biting your bottom lip. His answer comes after he slides a hand down your body and rubs your pussy through your soaked underwear.

"Nobody makes you come but me, sweetheart," he says gruffly, his own arousal evident in his voice before he kisses you again, deeply, passionately, possessive. He steals your breath away and when he lets you up for air you gasp, your chest heaving as he's pinned your breasts between you. You love the feeling of his chest hair against your skin.

"Then prove it…Bub," you gasp, surprising yourself and giggling at the use of the nickname. He shakes his head with amusement, only slightly cringing at your joke.

The next thing you know, he's sitting up, unzipping his jeans and ripping your underwear off without the use of his claws. (You don't wear your nicer panties when sparring with Logan is on the schedule.) The sports bra, you'd thought you could save. His dick is straining against his boxer briefs but you hardly get a glimpse of his perfectly thick cock before he's pushing inside you.

Normally, you like it when he fingers you first. When he stretches you out with two or three fingers while he tongues and sucks on your clit. You lament the opportunity for beard burn on your inner thighs but you’ll make up for that some other time. For now you’re just as desperate for him, as he is for you.

"Mmm fuck," he growls as he bottoms out. "So fucking tight. So wet. Love the scent of you on my sheets." He hunches forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck. He bites and sucks a mark into your skin. It'll heal, but at least the two of you will know it was there. You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling on it, your nails scraping his scalp. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles in the small of his back.

"Yes, Logan, yes baby fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me come," you urge him on, trying to roll your hips to match his rapid rhythm, but you can't keep up. The sensations are intense and overwhelming, until you've lost the strength in your arms and you just let yourself go. You submit to him in every way, allowing yourself to be used for his pleasure just as you know your pleasure is his. "Fuck, Logan, I'm so close…" you moan.

Your body is languid, liquid heat beneath him, your skin scorching hot no matter where he touches you. He drags his big hands down your body, starting at the base of your throat, over your heartbeat, kneading your breasts before sliding them down your stomach and grasping your hips. Changing pace to long, hard strokes, he rubs your clit with his thumb as he raises your hips off the bed. Your hips start bucking like you're trying to get away from the intensity of his thumb on your clit, but he keeps pulling you back to him, thrusting deeper as you two battle for release. You cry out, coming so hard your legs are shaking. You reach out to him and he extends one of his arms. Your fingers dig into his forearm as you hold on, feeling like you could fly off the bed, but Logan has you. He'll never let you go.

"Ohh, fuck," he groans, his mouth hanging open and his lips almost pulling back to bare his teeth like an animal. His eyes roll back as he nearly loses himself to the feeling of your orgasm, the pulsing sensation of your pussy squeezing him tight. You keep rolling your body, pushing and pulling with your grip on his arm,  drawing out your climax. His fingers dig into your hips. He finally bares his teeth, growling, his face twisting into a feral snarl. "Fuck, baby."

He pulls out suddenly and you cry, mourning the loss of being full. But then he flips you over, fast enough to elicit a startled giggle. His smug chuckle is lost as you end up face down on the bed. You're about to get up to your hands and knees when Logan slams back into you, going deeper from this position. You moan into his pillow, noting his own unique smell of leather, cigars, and pine. His hand holds onto your shoulder for leverage as he starts piston his hips at a rapid pace, fucking into you from behind, pressing you into the mattress.

“Don’t stop. Keep going,” you urge him on, knowing that the moment it’s too much for you, if you say stop, he will. “Oh my god, fu--I'm gonna come again," you whimper. He lets out a rugged laugh and spanks your ass...once, twice, and then rubbing your skin to soothe the red marks before he grabs your ass to help you push back and ride his dick.

"Yesss," he hisses, "Yeah sweetheart, let it go, come again. I've got you," he grunts, the words oddly sweet in contrast to the pounding you're getting.

Your next orgasm is matched by his. You can't see him behind you but you know what it looks like when Logan comes. You love the way his nose scrunches up, his head falls back and then rolls to the side like he's about to crack his neck. Then he shakes head like he's clearing his head from the fog of mind-blowing sex. His body shudders, all of his muscles are tense, flexed, rock hard. If you were on your back, you'd be kissing and nipping at his broad chest as you rake your nails down his abs. For now, you can take in the sight of him by straining to look over your shoulder. His thrusts stutter to a complete stop as he fills you up.

"Yes, baby…yes, feels so good," you pant, praising him. The corner of his mouth turns up in a proud smirk. He takes a few deep breaths and slides his hand up and down your spine. You fully sink into the mattress, boneless and spent, and he leans over you, propping most of his weight on his arms beside you.

Your breathing synchronizes as you lay there together. He peppers your shoulders with open mouth kisses and gently nips at the curve of your neck as you expose it.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he murmurs softly in your ear.

"Mmm, yes," you answer, "always." Your eyes are closed as you focus on the remnants of pleasure coursing through your body. You press your ass against him, earning yourself a few more lazy, taunting thrusts from him. He pulls out, his dick still hard and throbbing with a stamina unmatched by your own. You clench your legs shut, determined to keep his seed inside you, as you both love a messy round two. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him until you're on your back and looking up at him.

"You drive me crazy, baby girl," he grumbles…with obvious affection as he nuzzles you and then softly kisses you.

"You love it," you defend yourself playfully.

"Mmmhmm," he growls his agreement before kissing you again, one hand slowly exploring the planes of your body once more. He loves it when you play hard to get. He loves it when you talk back and antagonize him. He loves having a partner who keeps up with him and then still kicks his ass in training. He loves it when you challenge his lone wolf act. He loves it all, because it makes these moments happen--moments where two seemingly invincible people can come together and feel safe enough to love and be loved.

-----

It's been 2 years since I posted any fics... I hope ya'll liked this! Let me know!

p.s. made a wolverine specific sideblog: @feral4wolverine

[dantakeyoman]

Neteyam Defends You From Ao’nung and His Friends (SFW / Comfort)

Reader is a Fem! Omaticaya! Half Breed ( mom scientist got busy with a Na’vi warrior; both are now dead )

CW: Ao’nung cruel teasing and lowkey kinda evil, words like “freak” are used, Neteyam and Lo’ak got them hands, Neteyam is a cheeky lil’ shit

“Do not get me wrong, Kiri. I am loving spending this time with you. But please tell me what we are looking at,” you politely laughed, amused by Kiri’s wonderment at some wet sand.

“Don’t you see, (y/n). It is beautiful! This place is like a new world!” she beamed as she lifted her head from the shallow water, her now wet hair sticking to her face.

“This place is fascinating! Right down to the grains of sand.”

She promptly stuck her head right back under.

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile as you looked out into the distance.

She wasn’t wrong, this place really was beautiful.

The animals, the reefs, the crystal clear water. All were really a sight to behold. 

And Kiri was your friend, anyways. So as long as she was happy, you were happy.

If only some of the Metkayina felt the same way.

“Look at them! They are just staring at sand,” Rotxo laughed, the sound of slow-moving water coming closer and closer.

Speak of the demon.

Kiri carefully lifted her head from the water once again, giving the group of boys above a perplexed look.

“What’d you say?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Are you two some kind of....freaks?” Ao’nung asked slowly, earning a couple laughs from his friends behind him.

Kiri scoffed as she stood up, slightly hurt by the comment. “No.”

“Leave us alone, Ao’nung,” you growled, aggressively standing up and coming at eye level with with the boy.

He had been giving you, Kiri, and Lo’ak constant shit since the moment you got there.

So to say that you weren’t his biggest fan would be a vast understatement.

“Are you sure? I mean...look at her,” he laughed, walking around you to get to Kiri, grabbing her hand and holding it up roughly. “You have demon blood. You are aliens.”

Kiri winced in pain at his grip, and you glared, quickly shoving the boy away from your friend.

Ao’nung’s friends hissed, closing you into a circle and waiting for his word to pounce.

“You do not touch her! And she is not a freak,” you spat, your tail swishing in anger.

He could talk all he wanted, but you do not lay hands on someone as close to you as Kiri.

“(y/n), let’s just go. They’re not worth it,” Kiri huffed, trying to find a gap between the boys so she could drag you out.

“Do not think you are safe, either,” Ao’nung shot a quick nod to his friends, all of them suddenly grabbing you.

“Au! Let go of me!” you shouted, thrashing in their hold as they tried their best to hold you still.

“(y/n)!” Kiri exclaimed, trying to push past the circle to get to you, but one of the boys shoved her to the ground, hard.

“Look at your feet,” he laughed, grabbing your ankle and holding it up.

“Five toes? You have just as much demon blood as she does.”

You hissed, swinging over your other foot to kick him in the face, knocking him to the ground.

“(y/n)!” Kiri gasped, eyes wide. 

That was the Olo’eyktan’s son. They were going to be in deep shit for this.

The boy’s that held you tightened their grip, now thrashing you.

They were grabbing so hard, your skin was beginning to bruise.

Ao’nung got up with a scowl on his face, all of his anger aimed directly at you.

“Why you little-!” “Let go of her! a familiar voice ordered darkly, angry footsteps getting louder and louder.

You turned to your left to see an angry Neteyam stalking towards Ao’nung, absolutely livid.

Oh, shit.

You had only seen Neteyam this mad a few times before.

Where his nose was slightly scrunched, his eyebrows creased, and his expression stone cold.

You knew he’d hate it if you said this to him, but he looked a lot like his dad.

“Oh, look. Another freak!” Ao’nung chuckled with a smirk, not taking the boy seriously.

“You heard me. Put her down, now.” Neteyam snarled, getting into Ao’nung’s face without hesitation.

For a quick moment, you could see a flicker of fear flash in Ao’nung’s eyes.

Sure, he had the upper body strength over Neteyam, but no training once soever in how to use it.

Neteyam, on the other hand, had sparred with his brother and father just for situations just like this. 

And his dad was Toruk Makto anyway so...

Ao’nung nodded to the boys that held you, all of them dropping you face first in the sand. 

Fuck.

Neteyam hissed at Ao’nung, giving him a firm shove.

“I said put! Not drop!” 

“You need some help, bro?” Lo’ak casually walked over, noticing the commotion from not so far away.

To be honest, it was making all the adults in the reef stare.

“I have this handled,” Neteyam glared at the Metkayinan boy, before turning to the rest of his friends.

“This is for all of you. If any of you lays a hand on (y/n) or my sister, you will have to answer to me.”

“And me,” Lo’ak chimed seriously, cracking his knuckles in his fist.

You lifted your face from the sand, your face covered with it, and your nose dripping in a little blood.

You had heard everything.

And were incredibly flatter that they were going through so much, just because of this one instance.

“Oh, really?” Ao’nung mused, slowly walking over to you, who was laying down on the ground, stomach facing up.

“So what would you do if I did...this?”

And just like that, he landed a swift and hard kick to the side of your rib.

You let out a pained gasp and clutched your side, curling into yourself to protect in case he tried again.

“ILEY!” Neteyam let out a battle cry, sucker punching Ao’nung in the face before tackling him to the ground.

“Alright!” Lo’ak smiled, jumping into the fight by punching two of Ao’nung’s friends.

As their battle raged on, Kiri ran over to you, carefully pulling you away from the action.

“For Eywa’s sake! Are you okay?!” Kiri frantically asked, concerned.

Now that you were finally starting to regulate your breathing, you were able to speak again.

You would have to thank Tsireya for the breathing lessons.

“I am okay, Kiri,” you assured her, trying your best to sit up. But it only shot more pain through your rib.

You hissed, and she carefully pushed you back down, resting your head in her lap.

“No way. You are in no condition to sit up.”

You sighed, seeing your only option was to watch the fight.

You turned your head to the boys, only to see that the fight was already coming to a close.

The Metkayina boys were slowly starting to run away, one by one, until finally, Ao’nung tucked his tail between his legs and swam back to the village.

Leaving Neteyam and Lo’ak standing victorious, a little bruised, but otherwise okay.

In a fight that was 4 - 2, those boys had lost.

Shameful.

Now that that was done, Neteyam turned his attention to you, and quickly jogged over.

“Is she alright, Kiri?” he asked, worry lacing his tone. 

“Peachy keen,” you said sarcastically, a phrase Norm had taught you back when you lived with the Omaticayans.

“It looks like her rib his bruised, but nothing too serious. She might need help walking, though,” Kiri answered, looking down at you with a sigh.

Neteyam nodded, not hesitating to scoop you up in his arms and carry you, bridal style.

“I’m taking her back to mom so she can patch her up,” he let his two siblings know.

“Alright. We’re righhhht behind you,” Lo’ak knowingly smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at his older brother.

Neteyam sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics before starting off.

“That was really cool. What you did for me. Thank you,” you weakly smiled up at him, the sight nearly breaking his heart.

You perfect face was littered with sand, blood, and bruises.

Yet somehow, you still seemed to look gorgeous...no, beautiful under the growing moonlight.

“There is no need to thank. I simply did the right thing,” he played off with a smile, looking off into the distance so you wouldn’t catch him staring.

You slowly lifted your hand, cupping his cheek and turning his to face you, a dark blue hue rising onto his cheeks.

He had a split lip, and a little bit of blood on his ear, the split lip making him look even more handsome ( if that was possible ). 

But other than that, he was pretty much unharmed.

“You did something you didn’t have to do. And I’m thanking you for it,” you gave him a playful poke in the cheek.

“Now accept it.”

He chuckled at your childishness, looking down at your honey eyes with nothing but admiration behind his. 

“What will you do if I don’t?” he smirked, obviously egging you on.

You accepted the challenge, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a rough kiss.

He went wide eyed. the kiss taking him completely by surprise, but he returned it anyway, his grip on your thigh tightening ever so slightly.

You swiped your tongue over his lip, him quickly adjusting his grip on you to one hand so he could tuck a hand in your hair.

You kissed like this for a few more seconds, a couple of intermittent “ews” and “wrap it ups” coming from the brother and sister not too far behind you two. 

As you separated, stupid smiled graces each of your faces.

“Do you accept it now?” you asked with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow.

“I think I still need a little more encouragement,” he smiled, leaning in for another kiss.

You laughed, using your hand to smush his lips way as you approached the village, a furious Jake shouting at Ao’nung on the docks.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Actions they unintentionally do that turn on Ace... literally (Portgas D. Ace x GN!Reader)

Words: 1,188

Warnings: Cursing, suggesting smut. Hot, hot, hot Ace

A/N: If you have One Piece Requests... please send them! -Val

It’s been a while since they joined the Whitebeard’s crew. The good thing is that Y/N adapted very well with everyone on board, the downside was the extreme comfort they seemed to feel with certain member.

Ace knew immediately that they were innocent and naïve, Y/N’s face gave them away, and as time went on and he interacted with them, it only confirmed his theory. 

There is nothing wrong with this; on the contrary, Ace finds them a breath of fresh air. They’re always excited for adventures, Y/N‘s a dreamer, a caring pure soul. The real problem is him.

He’s very proud that Y/n’s regained the confidence taken away, and he feels warm to know they feel safe by his side. But that doesn't stop his mind from thinking things... that he shouldn't be thinking, not about Y/N.

For example: when they sit on his lap.

Part of the crew is in a bar, drinking and laughing while they tell funny stories. At some point, Y/N arrives and finds the group. When they get closer, everybody greets them and offers them alcohol. As their drink arrives, Ace’s crewmate looks for a place to sit. Although Marco and Sachi offer their chairs, Y/N’s already have their preferred spot in sight. The pirate goes straight to Ace and sits on his lap with a hand around his shoulders for support. 

It's not the first time they've done this, Ace has no problem with this, but he wasn't expecting it at that moment, let alone in front of the others.

Y/N rests their body against Ace's bare chest as they follow the conversation and swing their legs. All the while, Ace keeps his arms at his sides, itching to touch Y/N’s legs or grab them by the waist. He tries to keep his mind occupied with the conversation instead of the warm body on him. The very idea of getting hard seems terrible to Ace. All this happening under the curious gazes of the crew.

Sleeping with him:

At first, Ace heard about Y/N’s sleeping problems because of the constant nightmares, so he offered to sleep on the same bed to reassure them. Now his body tenses up when he hears the door to his room being opened, footsteps approaching and the movement of the mattress. 

“Are you awake?” Y/N whispers. He wants to act asleep but... “I know you’re awake,” they giggle. 

He turns to Y/N, ignoring the need to caress their cheek, to hug them and run his lips and tongue all over their body, to tell them things he shouldn't, to slowly remove each garment and—

“Ace!” 

He blinks out of his daydream. “What?”

“Your fire!”

He frowns and the smoke reaches his nose, he turns and notices the flames peeking into his room. “Shit!”

 Ace manages to put out the fire and returns to bed.

Y/N chuckles. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t see look up. “Uh, yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Noup.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head. “You wanna go back to sleep?”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N snuggles closer. “Good night, Ace”.

And his ultimate downfall: caressing or pulling his hair.

Is it a kink? He’s not sure, but it did affect him. The worst part? Y/N does it all the fucking time!

One morning, he’s dreaming that he’s fucking Y/N like he’s always wanted. It feels so real, the touches, their moans, the heat... That’s why he doesn't notice that he’s grinding against their ass in the real world.

Y/N wakes up thanks to the movements and the feeling of something hard against them. They open their eyes and try to figure out what’s going on.

“Ace?” despite the strong grip on their waist, Y/N manages to turn around. “Ace!” Y/N shakes him by the shoulders, but he keeps moaning. They try their best but it’s always difficult to wake him up.

Then, they move Ace's body face up and sit above him. “Ace, wake up!” Y/N shakes him harder.

“W-What?” He opens his eyes startled, and he slowly comes to his senses. Y/N is on top of him, his hard cock, his body dripping in sweat. “What!?” He hears his heart pound in his ears.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asks him with concern.

“I’m…” His eyes travel all over their body. “I—”

“Were you having a nightmare?”

‘Holy shit’, he thinks. His body screams for sex and they think that he is having a nightmare. He can’t take it anymore. He doesn't know what to do.

Ace sits abruptly and Y/N yelps, feeling his boner. They frown and think that maybe they’re wrong, but…

“Ace, what’s going on?”

“You’re so naïve,” he says without thinking.

“Sorry?”

“No!” He grabs them by their waist. “I mean… I—” he sighs.

“Just tell me,” Y/N whispers.

Ace looks into their eyes. “You’re innocent and naïve and… there’s nothing wrong with it! But I… I can’t take it anymore!”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re killing me!” He laughs nervously. “Just think about it— you’re on my lap and I’m sure you can feel my cock.” They blush at his vulgar words. “Shit, now you’re uncomfortable— I… I’m sorry, Y/N,” he sighs, dropping his head on Y/N's shoulder.

“W-Why do you say that?”

“You must think I’m a pervert for thinking like that about you,” he explains.

“What do you think about me?” Ace frowns and comes out of his hiding place. “I-I mean, like what things? What kind?”

At that moment, Ace realizes that Y/N’s body’s telling him something too. They’re tense, skin flush, eyes on his lips and their hands… are caressing the back of his neck, dangerously close to his hair.

“I want you,” he answers. “I want… all of you. I want to be beside you, near you… inside you,” Y/N squirms at the last word, and he grunts. “You have no idea how much I’m starving for you and how I can't control myself when you sit on my lap, when we’re in bed— fuck, when you play with my hair...” he feels lighter telling the truth.

“Like this?” Y/N asks caressing the hair at the back of his head. 

He tenses again and his length twitches.

“Y-yeah,” he almost moans. “When you pull it...” they do it and he grabs them harder. “Wait,” he stops, going back to reality. “You want this.” It’s not a question. 

They look down. “I’m sorry for doing those things… it wasn’t my, I-I’ve never...” he grabs their chin gently to make them look at him.

“It wasn't your actions that frustrated me, Y/N,” he caresses their cheek. “It was the fact that I couldn’t do anything about it. Touch you like I wanted and needed, not without your permission.”

“Y-you have it.”

He smirks. “Are you sure?” They nod. “Use your words, I need you to say it. That this is what you want,” he leans closer, his nose tracing Y/N’s jawline.

“I want you, Ace. I want all of you too,” Y/N moans quietly when he kisses their neck.

“You won’t regret it,” he promises.

[iwantscarlettandlizzie]

Comfort

Summary: When soleil is craving comfort she can only receive from her love, Wanda makes sure she knows she can always have it.

Word count: 1178

Warnings: Mostly fluff again, mention of family issues.

Since it’s still quite early in our relationship, i stay at home right now, instead of in their house. If Natasha isn’t home for the night, Wanda does ask me to stay because she doesn’t like to be alone, but that’s a rare occurrence.

That fact makes days like this even harder. You see, Wanda has asked me if I’d stay tonight, because Natasha was still supposed to be on a mission and she was feeling lonely. But it turns out she got home early, and now that means I can’t stay over, I was of course still welcome to go see them- just not stay over.

Normally this would be okay, I get it, they’re wives and I’m new. However, I’ve had a really awful day, and I don’t want to be around my family anymore. They always make me feel like I’m not enough, like I’m in the way, and unwanted. Then the added reminder of I’m not even the main part of my own relationship just made me spiral.

Sometimes it’s so annoying that Wanda is magic, this sort of thing I never want to bother others with, yet she has the ability to feel it anyway.

Wanda

don’t overthink it sunshine

Okay so she knows I want her, I just want her close, to hold me and make me feel like I belong somewhere. She said not to overthink it, so I can go see her, right?

Whether I felt good about it or not I couldn’t stop myself from instantly leaving and making my way to their home.

It doesn’t take too long, since I’m practically running there. Getting to the door, panting and out of breath. I compose myself, and knock on the door.

When the door swings open, it’s Natasha and I don’t even know how to react. I’m quite literally out of words and can’t even speak. My mouth just opening and closing, making me look like a fish, and a total idiot.

I do see a smirk across her face when I finally look up, but thankfully for me, Wanda is now right beside her- ready to greet me, “Hey detka, it’s so lovely to see you!” She has a massive smile on her face, and she speaks at the same time as she reaches out to stroke some of my hair behind my ear.

Feeling too nervous to even speak, knowing my voice would shake, I simply give them a wave. Chuckling in response, the couple move out of the way, Wanda gently grabbing one of my hands to lead my inside. I’m sure I hear Nat mumble to Wanda “Is she always this cute?” And I know I flush bright red because Wanda strokes a finger across my cheek- then pinches it.

Wanda keeps hold of my hand until we all end up in their living room, Nat and Wanda both sitting down on one of their smaller couches, definitely not leaving space for me, yet Wanda still hadn’t let go of my hand. I shake our combined hands, expecting her to let go and let me go sit on the other couch. But to my surprise she gently pulls me by the hand, towards her.

At my confused look, she smiles up at me, patting her lap with her other hand, “Sit my sweet sunshine.” I blush at her suggesting possibly to sit on her lap, mumbling a quiet “Where?”

The way she looks at me all soft makes my head melt, “On my lap, silly girl. Sit on mommy’s lap baby.” I give a slow nod, and let her pull me to sit on her lap sideways, making me face Natasha.

I’m a little tense at first, not used to being so open about these acts. Even with just Wanda alone really, yes we’ve done stuff but nothing as intimate or relationship like as this. Feeling her warm hands alternate between rubbing my back, and arm, and then playing with my hair- makes me feel all warm inside. Not to mention the way she pulls my head close to her neck, so she can lean against me and kiss my head.

I let her hold me close, overwhelmed by receiving what I needed, by not even having to ask for it. Wanda and Nat are talking about something but I’m so in my head I don’t even know what they’re talking about. I’m simply leaning my weight onto Wanda’s body and trying not to cry.

I realised I must’ve failed when Natasha reaches out and brushes a gentle finger under my eye. She doesn’t get involved a lot, and Wanda told me it’s because she needs a lot of time to get used to someone before she can be herself or soft.

After that thought, I can’t help but start crying softly, digging my head into Wanda’s chest as I mumble my apologies. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” In response she just gently shushes me and holds me as close as she can “shhh shhh I got you baby, I got you, we’re here.”

I don’t notice Nat slips away as I’m being coddled by Wanda, that’s until my back is gently rubbed and I hear a whisper by my ear “Come and lay down sweet love, get some rest with us.”

I sniffle and pull away from Wanda’s chest, Nat keeps her hand on my back making me feel all warm, and Wanda gives me a sweet smile before wiping my tears. She says, “Let’s go get all snuggled up for the night, huh?”

My voice is hoarse and rough from crying today, and I let out a quiet and vulnerable “Me?”

I see Wanda eyes turn a little sad as she nods, but the voice I hear is Nat “You need us, and we’re here. We’re not leaving now, okay?”

Without even waiting for a response they gently lift me and shift me into Nat’s arms because she’s stronger. I’m shocked she wants to carry me up or hold me in general, but I’m thankful she’s making me feel so safe.

I snuggle into her neck and press one gentle kiss in thanks, and receive a kiss to the forehead from her. Her hands under my bottom to hold me up properly.

Wanda follows us up the stairs, and it doesn’t take long for me to be placed down in the middle of the bed, with both of them climbing in and cuddling up to each side of me. Wanda pulls me to lay against her chest, as Nat gently holds me from behind- throwing an arm over both of us.

A finger under my chin lifts my head up, making Wanda press a soft kiss to my lips, whispering “goodnight my sunshine,” as I mumble back a “goodnight mommy.” Then she leans over to kiss Nat goodnight, but what surprises me is Nat leaving over to peck my lips also, saying “goodnight my loves.”

The last thing I manage to get out before falling into a deep sleep is “night night mama.”

[lesservillain]

alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

cw: omegaverse dynamics, knotting, bonding/marking, breeding kink, unprotected piv, semi public, mutual pining

wc:~5.7k

Music plays at a low hum from the small radio at your desk. The only station that comes in clear has been taken over by Christmas music since Thanksgiving break. Not even Wham!’’s Last Christmas was giving the same sense of relief after hearing it every day for almost a month now. 

Despite the winter wonderland outside, you still seek out the coolness of your water bottle against your skin, the chill helping to ease the flush that’s been making you sweat like it was mid July in Texas. You’d even cracked the window behind your desk in hopes that the fallen snow would help with your elevated body temperature. But you knew that all of your efforts were for nothing. That no matter how cold you made it, there was really only one thing that would actually be able to ease the discomfort that you felt spreading under your skin; the burden of being an omega in this world. 

Ever since you split with your ex this past spring you’ve been having to deal with your heats on your own. It's not impossible for an omega to go through heats without an alpha to ease the pain, but when you go cold turkey after years of having someone there to satisfy the overwhelming biological need to mate, it can take a huge toll on any omega. 

Science has made leaps and bounds over the last 20 years to improve suppressants for both alphas and omegas. They’re not perfect by any means, but they’re better than dealing with the intense urges that you feel when that time of the month comes. 

The current suppressants you're taking are…experimental. Mixed with a birth control that’s supposed to be able to stop even the swimmers of an alpha in rut from reaching an egg of an omega they’ve marked. They were suggested by your doctor as a preventative, since omegas after losing their long alpha tend to subconsciously scent to seek out a replacement. 

And they worked really well the first few months, not having a heat for nearly half a year. But the added stress of moving to a new town on your own and starting a new job where you were constantly playing catch up after inheriting a mess from the school’s previous nurse, your heat came back full swing within the first month of the school year. The dizziness, increased appetite, a dull ache in your lower back, and hot flashes put you out for three days before you could get a suppressant strong enough to make you functional again. 

Now you’re having your winter heat, which, so far, has been much tamer by comparison thanks to the increased dose of your medication. But the combination of your heat with the influx of students seeing you due to peak flu and strep season, your body has been practically screaming at you by the end of each day this week to go home and relax. 

The sudden overzealous opening of your office door takes your attention off your sweltering body. The all too familiar voice of Mr. Harrington calls out “Helloooo, nurse!” as he occupies the space in the doorway. 

Steve Harrington was one of the school’s sophomore history teachers, as well as the football and basketball coach and the leader of the Student Achievement program. All of the staff, and probably some of the students, swoon over him at any given moment, his presence never missed due to the air that surrounds him. Unfortunately you’re not immune to his charms either. In fact, the natural attraction between the two of you was palpable at times, regardless of how much you try to ignore it. 

Steve could feel it, too. And maybe it was the way his alpha brain was wired, but his flirty personality is jacked up to 10 whenever you’re around. It’s not on purpose, at least not in a conscious way. His amazing hair, the way his clothes hugged his toned body, and his almost unnaturally handsome face made him the poster child for the perfect alpha partner. 

Well, perfect except for the fact that he’s the clumsiest man you’ve ever met in your life, leaving your office at least once a week with a Strawberry Shortcake bandaid after giving himself a paper cut or an ice pack on his head when a ball hits him in the face. 

Despite his accident-prone nature, Steve is a highly desired, single alpha in his prime. And with you being the only unclaimed adult omega in the building, it’s put a huge target on your back for your jealous coworkers who think they have a shot with him. To remedy this, you’ve maintained a firm level of professionalism and platonic friendliness at all times with him, despite his flirty personality testing your willpower.

His intoxicating scent invades your senses sending  a wave of warmth to wash over you before you can even give him a quick glance. You pull at the collar of your blouse willing the air to cool down your shirt. “You feeling okay there, nurse? You look a little flushed. Or are you just that happy to see me?”

“Mr.Harrington,” you say flatly, following with teasing sarcasm as you continue looking over your paperwork, “I was starting to worry you weren’t going to see me this week. Thought you’d finally broken your streak of bad luck.” He lets out an airy chuckle that makes the sides of your lips threaten to curl.

“Oh, honey, you know I can’t stay away from you.” He means it. He would fake appendicitis if it gave him a greater chance to be doted on by you. To get closer to you. “I would have been in here sooner if I hadn’t been glued to my desk all week getting grades in before break,” he says, voicing his grievances that were the result of his own negligence. 

“I see,” you hum, continuing with the sarcastic tone. “I guess I won’t have to replenish my box of bandaids just yet.”

“Weelll,” he draws out, “All that sitting time must have built up my bad luck, because, uh, I think this one may need more than just a bandaid.”

When you finally lift your eyes from your desk, they almost bulge out of their sockets at the sight of him. Where you initially thought his arms were just crossed, you see his right hand is actually covering his left bicep, blood staining down the sleeve of his light and navy blue striped dress shirt. The lack of urgency in his tone had you thinking nothing was wrong, but of course Steve Harrington would find the time to flirt with you while he’s bleeding. 

Tossing your water bottle on the desk and jumping up from your seat, you practically fly across the room to assess the damage, pulling his hand away to find a tear in the sleeve and blood spread messily on his skin underneath.

“Oh my goodness, what happened?” You ask with concern, pulling him into the office by the hand and leading him to a cot, shutting the door behind you. 

“Mrs.Harmon asked if I could stay and help set up stuff around the auditorium for the choir performance tonight,” he explained as you pulled at the material of his sleeve, trying and failing and get a better look at the wound, “and I accidentally knocked a shelf off the wall while trying to get the decorations out. I moved fast enough that it didn’t crush me, but it did knick me a little.”

“A little! Mr.Harrington—” you start with a stern tone, preparing your normal lecture to him about being safe. 

“Steve,” he corrects with a smug grin, insisting that you call him by his first name since you’ve met. 

“Mr.Harrington,” you repeat like a warning, trying to remain professional when he’s so close to you. It’s hard when he’s staring at your face with those big hazel eyes as he watches your face scrunch in frustration while you fiddle with his shirt. A shirt that’s straining to stay together around his large bicep, leaving no give for you to get a better look at his wound. 

Losing your will to argue with him, your hands rest to your hips with a sigh. “Can you, just, slip your arm out of the sleeve, please?”

“Of course,” he says with faux seriousness as you can see his all too satisfied smile, rolling your eyes at him.

Turning on your heel, you walk a few feet to grab the things from the supply cabinet to treat his wound. Your back is turned to him as you fill your arms with gauze, tape, cotton balls, and anything else you may need for a cut that large.

 “You know, you’re probably the clumsiest alpha I’ve ever met,” you tease as you turn to face him again, “Sometimes I think you get hurt on purpose just to see m—“

The rest of your remark dies on your tongue as your mouth goes dry. Taking liberties with your request, you watch Mr.Harrington completely remove his shirt, dropping it on the cot behind him and facing you once more. The white under tank he’s wearing leaves little to the imagination as it hugs his broad chest tightly, thinning the material and making it almost see through. His skin still has the last lingering tint of the tan he was sporting on the first day of school, and different sized freckles and moles decorate his body like constellations in the sky. You’ve never seen so much of him all at once, head feeling fuzzy as you drink him in. 

“I think you might be drooling a bit there, Ms. Nurse,” he says pointing to the corner of his own mouth to further his teasing. But you can barely hear him, the words muffled as your ears start to ring and your vision tilts as if you’d been drinking. The boil you’d been dealing with all day felt like a slight shimmer as your fever suddenly spikes, your body on fire as the scent coming from his newly exposed skin has you reeling.

The supplies you’re holding dropped to the floor, freeing your hands to grasp at the counter behind you. Steve rushes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and easing you to the ground. He barely makes it without dropping to his knees himself, the smell of your pheromones hitting him like a brick. 

“H-hey, what do you need,” you hear him ask, but you can hardly register the words as his scent in close proximity only spurs your heat on more. Even with your clothes covering your skin, the touch of his hand on your waist and the one he’s rested on your knee make you crave more of him in a carnal way, the urgent need to close the gap between the two of you has your body shifting until you’re on your knees and crawling towards him. 

His hands hover in the air, slightly trembling as you lean into him. He falls back on his ass as you get closer until you’re practically laying on him, rubbing against him with your face like a cat. “I need you, Steve,” you purr. He takes a sharp breath in through gritted teeth as your hand drifts lower, lower, until your fingers land on the very prominent bulge straining against his deep blue slacks. “Shit,” his head snaps back at the contact, before dropping back down to look at you with hungry eyes.

“What happened to keeping it professional?” He tries to joke, unsure if this is all just a test from the universe to see how he would react to having his nightly fantasies come true. And while Steve may be resilient in many ways, he wasn’t sure if he could hold back with the way you’re looking up at him through your lashes as if he’d hung the moon and the stars. The scent of his musk permeates the room as he gives into your needs, his desires, letting the primal urges he’s been pushing down since the day he met you front in his mind. 

If you were in a different state of mind you probably would have laughed at his comment. But the intense ache that bloomed between your legs as all your senses start to leave your body has you whimpering against his chest. 

Strong arms scoop you up swiftly, tossing you down on the cot and pulling the privacy curtain behind him. In the split second he was away from you, you managed to grab his discarded shirt and pull it to your nose, inhaling his lingering scent. It was like a drug that you couldn’t get enough of, your thighs rubbing together and hips moving against air as your body seeks out any kind of relief for the ache. 

Suddenly, the shirt is torn from your grasp roughly. You cry out, hands reaching out aimlessly before they’re being grasped tightly around the wrists and pinned to the bed. The cot dips as a weight wedges its way between your legs, pressing against your core in a way that has you instantly bucking against it with reckless abandon, your clouded mind only thinking about satisfying the throb in your core. 

“God, look at the mess you’re making on my thigh already,” Steve says with a low growl, watching you use him in a pathetic attempt to relieve yourself. The grit in his voice hits every nerve in your body on its way from your ear drums to your cunt. 

“You smell so fucking sweet,” he groans as he brings your wrist to his nose and inhales, “Like vanilla or honey, o-or something better,” he stammers. He leans over you, hot tongue licking a thick stripe from your collar bone to behind your ear, lightly biting the lobe and pulling, goosebumps rising on your skin. His hair is just as soft as you imagined it would be as it tickles your cheek, a sharp contrast to the way his teeth bite at your neck, his tongue soothing over the skin. 

You press your cheek into him, whining his name right into his ear, practically begging him to put you out of your misery. He releases one of your hands to grab your face, lips pursing together, making you look him in the eyes. His pupils fully blown out and close enough that you can see your own fucked out reflection in them.

“Listen to me,” he says, swallowing, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. “I’ve been wanting to do this for five fucking months. Five long months of fucking my fist to the thought of getting you under me just like this, making you a mess and having you beg for me.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring as the last bit of his resolve begins to waver. “So if we do this, you’re mine from now on, got it? No more of this back and forth, pretending you don’t want me as much as I want you bullshit. Once I start…I’m not going to be able to stop. Do you understand?”

There’s no hesitation with how quickly you try to nod your head against his grip. The heat coming off of your cheeks warms the tips of his fingers. “Nuh-uh,” he tuts, giving you a little shake, “Need to hear it. Tell me you want this.” 

“Want you, Steve. Need you. Need your cock, please, please please.”

 He curses under his breath before his lips crash into yours. The kiss is hot and heavy right off the bat as teeth clash and tongues dance together in desperation. Your free hand finds its way into his perfect hair, pulling slightly at the nape, eliciting a moan from him that you catch as it leaves his lips.

Steve pulls away from you with a wild look in his eyes. Both of his strong hands release their hold on you so that he could rip open the front of your blouse, sending buttons flying and hitting the floor with a clatter. His mouth is back on you, nipping and biting the skin while his hands pull your tits free from the cups of your bra. 

Mouth moving at lightning speed, he hungrily takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and tonguing the bud while needing at your other breast with his hand. His eyes are glassy when they look up at you, half lidded and unfocused, drool dribbles down your breast from his mouth. 

Everything next happens so quickly you can barely register it. Steve pulls away from you completely, standing up fully to rip your pants down your legs. Once he throws them to the floor, he’s making quick movements to undo his own pants, his right thigh drenched from the slick that had soaked through while grinding against him. 

His cock is so hard that the pressure against the crotch of his pants has the zipper undoing itself once he frees the button. Wasting no time, he shucks down his slacks and boxers in one go, his large cock and heavy balls now on full display for you, the sight making your eyes widen in surprise—and maybe fear?

Alphas are known to be bigger than even a well endowed beta, and omegas are built to handle the size of an alpha’s better than a beta can, but the size of the Steve’s cock less than a foot from your face has you mesmerized at the sheer size of it. But while your mind may be in shock, your pussy has a mind of its own, slick dripping in anticipation for the stretch you’d be receiving. Even in his large hands it looked massive, bigger than any alpha you’d been with before. 

You sit up in the bed slightly, reaching out to take him in your hand, your fingers barely able to wrap around him as you stroke the angry red tip. He curses under his breath as you let your hand roll over the tip, feeling the veins against the skin of your palm with each stroke.

 A little bead of precum bubbles at the tip and something in your mind snaps. Your mouth is on him in an instant, any sense you may have had left is completely gone out the window when that salty taste hits your tongue. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he cooes, followed by a guttural moan at the sight of you trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. “Such a good girl. Trying your best to take me in that pretty little mouth of yours, huh?” His words egg you as you continue to suckle at his tip, lapping up any of his spend that leaks out as you keep pumping at his shaft.

You want to keep going, want to be good for him, but ache between your legs is becoming unbearable the longer you go on. Slick is slipping down your thighs, a puddling forming under you on the sheets as your body involuntarily preps itself to take Steve’s massive cock. You look up at him with teary eyes, lifting your ass in the air as a silent plea for him to take you like the bitch in heat that you are. 

And as much as he’s loving watching you pitifully mouth his cock, seeing you present yourself for him turns off the evolved parts of his brain, leaving him to run on primal instincts only. 

Grabbing you by the throat, he manhandles you onto your back and positions you so your ass on the edge of the cot. Your legs fall to the sides, opening as wide as you can get them, pussy on full display and ready to be taken. 

“Hoooooo, fuck,” Steve shudders, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt, hole clenching around nothing, begging for him to fill it up. He runs his fingers through your folds to collect some of your arousal, barely brushing over your throbbing clit. He brings his fingers to his mouth, shoulders slumping in satisfaction.

“Damnit, of course you taste sweet, too. Can’t wait til I can get you in my mouth,” he says with a slight slur. 

You panic for a moment, unsure if you could wait any longer for him to finally be inside you. As if he can read you like a book, he lets out a soft chuckle, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it slowly. “Don’t you worry, baby girl, I’m not gonna keep you waiting any more. Next time, though…”

The sticky tip of his cock taps your clit, sending shock waves throughout your body with every touch. It’s too much and not enough all at once. His name falls from your lips, and he shushes you in return, lining himself up with your entrance.

The breach of his tip stretching you wide is like a shot of morphine in an IV drip, your body becoming numb and a live wire at the same time, replacing the pain with a fuzzy haze all over. 

Steve watches the way your face contorts with pleasure as hips rock back and forth slowly. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, trying his hardest to hold back so you can get used to his size, but the vice grip you have on his cock has him quickly losing his resolve. Body falling over you, he brackets your head between his forearms as he finally folds. His breath fanning over your face has your eyes fluttering open. Met with the most divine visual of Steve’s pinched brow, scrunched up nose, and slack jaw fill your vision entirely. Your breath is punched from your lungs as he makes that final thrust, bottoming out inside of you with a shuddered whimper. 

“Oh, my god,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, rubbing his face against your skin, marking you with his scent. He begins to move, setting a pace that makes every thrust feel like heaven, the tightness of your walls amplifying every ridge and bump of his cock as it drags back and forth. “Fuck, Steve, you’re so big,” you whine, “Never felt so full be-fore!” The last syllable comes out as a gasp as he thrusts into you hard, spurred on by your words. 

His arms wrap around you tightly, laying all of his upper body weight against you to pin you in place so he can fuck into mercilessly. The feeling is mind melting, nonsense words mixed with repeating his name over and over fall from your mouth with each punch of his cock against your cervix. Each thrust hits that spot inside of you dead on, throttling you towards the edge quicker than your mind can handle in your current fucked out state. 

“Fuuuuck,” Steve’s voice is strained next to your ear, thrusts slowing as you “Don’t squeeze so tight, baby, I don’t wanna cum yet.” 

His words have the opposite effect on you as your whole body trembles beneath him, cumming so hard his cock your vision goes white. Your chest presses into his as your back arches off the mattress, the skin to skin friction against your hardened nipples stimulating you more as he fucks you through your high.

He lifts his head to watch you come undone with a wide eyed, feral look. He’s panting, too, with a string of saliva from his tongue to the skin of your shoulder where he had latched on, the skin red and already speckling with broken blood vessels. 

 “You’re so pretty when you cum on my cock like that,” he says with heavy breaths, “Wanna see you do it again, and again, and again,” he babbles, leaning in to trail kisses along your jaw, continuing to thrust into you harder and harder, in his own world now. You can only cling to him as he ruts into you, nails scratching down his back. “Gonna fuck you over and over and over until it takes. Big, round belly on full display for everyone to see. You gonna tell everyone Mr.Harrington got you pregnant when you can’t hide it anymore? What will all the other teachers think?” 

“Fuck, Steve, please.” 

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Want it, Steve. Want your knot.”

“Oh, is that right?”

Suddenly, he pulls away and out of you completely. It’s such a shock to the system you can help but cry out at the loss of him. But the vacancy doesn’t last long, his strong arms lifting and flipping you with ease until you’re face down into the mattress, ass being propped up on shaky legs so he can bottom out in you once more. 

This new angle changed everything. A wanton moan feels like it was being pushed out of you as it felt like his cock was in your lungs. One hand grabs a hold of your hip while the other pushes down on the back of your neck, effectively pinning you down so he can pick back up his brutal pace. There was no rhythm to his thrusts, driven purely on animalistic instincts as he chases his own pleasure, using you as a means to get him there.

“You want my knot, huh?” The question is rhetorical, said in the heat of the moment as he feels his peak nearing. “Want me to give you my knot and really knock you up? I’ll ruin you for any other alphas that think they have a chance. Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, sweet girl? No other alpha’s gonnna fuck you like I can, right?” 

“No-no, Steve! Don’t want anyone else! Only want your knot! Please, please!” Your eyes lull as he fucks you stupid, mouth parted open as you drool onto the sheets. 

His weight shifts, trailing kisses down your back until he gets to that spot on the back of your neck. A chill runs down your spine as his teeth scrape against the skin over your scent gland. “Well, if that’s the case…Guess you wouldn’t mind if I held you to that, right?” 

The primal part of your brain is screaming for him to do it; mark you and make you his, permanently. The logical side fights for dominance, reminding you that you never wanted to be owned by an alpha, which is why you and your ex broke up in the first place. But the way he was making you feel right now had you second guessing all your morals. He hums over you, lips lingering against your skin as he speaks. 

Before you could answer, his hips were stilling inside you, the base of his cock swelling as he pumped you full with his spend. It would have been painful if it didn’t trigger the release of oxytocin in your body, making you cum with him. Your legs start to give out, but his hold on you tightens as his spend continues to spill into you., the  His body shakes above you, chest heaving as tries to catch his breath.

The two of you take a moment to come down from your highs. The air around you feels electric as the two of you become one, his knot settling within your walls snuggly, the steady stream of Steve’s cum filling you to the brim until you couldn’t possibly take anymore. He rests his head over your scent gland, rubbing his face against it out of comfort while you still emit that sweet, sweet smell. 

Everything feels right in the moment, until it’s interrupted by a knock and an intruding aroma. To you, it smells like smokey wood and cinnamon, but to Steve, it’s a threat. The smell of another alpha trying to get near his omega and claim her over him. You can feel his body tense up, breathing picking up in a panic, lips pressing against the skin as his mind races.

“Steve?” You say his name meekly. There’s a short pause between you, a split second before you feel it, his teeth clamping down on your skin. It’s like every nerve in your body lights up all at once. The sensation is powerful it makes you cum again, clamping down on Steve’s still hard cock buried inside of you. The moan he lets out against you is pornographic, teeth still clinging to your skin tightly as his saliva mixes with your body’s natural scent.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” The muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.

“Get the fuck out of here, Eddie!” Steve yells out to the janitor, another alpha that you’d seen in passing, pinching your skin as he does his best to keep his teeth on you. It’s quiet for a moment, and you think that Eddie left until you hear a loud, booming laugh, and a faint “About damn time!” as the new smell starts to dissipate. 

Steven feels your body jolt slightly beneath him and refocuses his attention on you. You do it again with an audible snort. At first he thinks you might be crying, guilt creeping in as he’s realized what he’s done to you. But as you get louder, it’s clear that you are actually laughing. 

“Was tho funneh?” He asks, drooling down onto your back.

“I don’t know,” you say through fits of giggles. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Thounds like et,” he says, laughing along with you.

“Sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting any of this.” Your body shifts under him, growing uncomfortable in the position you were in. Steve senses this, releasing your skin and licking your wounds so that, with careful maneuvering, he’s able to get both of you comfortably on your sides. He wraps his arms and legs around you, holding you close to his strong chest, eyeing his handiwork of his mark as you rest your head on his arm.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” he says softly, kissing the back of your head. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I took things too far…But if I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t regret it.”

It could be the residual high from your heat, or the change in your brain chemistry from his mark, or just the fact that you’ve been pushing down how much you really wanted this with him from the moment your hands touched when you both went for the same bagel at the first staff meeting over the summer, but you couldn’t deny that you didn’t regret it either. 

For so long you’ve been in denial, trying to ignore that he was the reason your suppressants stopped working because you wanted him so badly that your body was rejecting them when he was around. Denying how happy you get when he brings you coffee in the morning, or how much you look forward to when he sits with you during his lunch period to talk about whatever shenanigans his multitude of friends get into, or how the whole reason you started this heat was because he let you sit in the passenger seat of his BMW while he jumped your car after work on Tuesday, the inside smelling so overwhelmingly like him that you had to jump out and rush straight to your car before you ended up jumping him in the middle of the parking lot. 

“Steve?” You request his attention just above a whisper, breaking the silence between you. He hums quizzically, resting his cheek against yours. “Did you really need to grade papers this week, or have you been avoiding me this week because you knew I was going through a heat?”

His cheek vibrates against yours as he chuckles from his throat. “You’re so smart, you know that, right?” He kisses your cheek before settling back with his head on the pillow, forehead resting against the back of your head. 

As the two of you lay there you ask him a million questions, picking his brain to its fullest extent with this new closeness the two of you share. Really, you just like the sound of his voice, but he does say a few things here and there that make you belly laugh.

“Don’t do that,” he laughs along with you, “We’re never going to come undone if you keep squeezing me like that!”

“I can’t help it,” you wipe a tear from your eye, trying your hardest to suppress your giggles. 

Thirty minutes pass and Steve’s knot finally goes down enough that he can pull out of you. It feels like a part of you is missing now that he’s no longer occupying you after so long. Hot, sticky cum pours from you like a storm drain onto the sheet below. With a sigh, you make a mental note to add new sheets on your list of things to replace, right under a new box of bandaids.

Oh, shit. Steve’s arm.

As he starts to gather the discarded clothes on the floor, you see that that blood has dried up and mostly rubbed off after everything. After the two of you redress, you wearing Steve’s button up after he made your blouse no longer wearable, not that you were complaining as the need to nest was starting to kick in, you cared for his wound. Just a cut left behind that would be okay with a little disinfecting and a few steristrips. 

“You forgot the most important part,” he says with a shake of his head as you place the last strip on his arm. You tilt your head at him in confusion, a smile forming on his face as he looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Aren’t you gonna kiss it better?”

[magicfootballstuff]

Obsession (alexia putellas x reader)

Set in the same universe as Strictly Unprofessional. Several months on from your first date, you and Alexia are still obsessed with each other.

———

You look up from your laptop when you hear the front door open and shut, the sound of Alexia dropping her bag by the door followed by the jingle of keys as she leaves them on the dresser in the hallway. Moments later, she appears in the living room and slumps herself at the other end of the couch.

It’s her apartment, but you spend most of your time here, letting yourself in with the spare key she gifted you a couple of months ago after finishing work earlier than Alexia today. You’ve been sorting through some of the recent training photos you’ve taken of the Barcelona team, organising them on your hard drive in case you need to look for them later.

“Hi baby,” you greet your girlfriend. “How was your day?”

You can predict the tone of Alexia’s response before she gives it from the grumpy frown on her face.

“Long,” she answers. “Tiring. And I missed you.”

You’ve adjusted pretty well to balancing your relationship with Alexia at work in the seven and a bit months since you actually started dating. It helps that she’s a player and you’re part of the back office staff, meaning that you get a good balance between seeing each other at work but also having time apart. You know there are couples on the team but you don’t know how they do it, certain that you and Alexia would be bickering all the time if you spent all day every day at each other’s sides.

Today was one of those days where you didn’t see each other much at all. It was a media day for the new Champions League season, meaning that although you helped out with the setup of the studios and some of the equipment, the actual photos and video content were taken by the DAZN team rather than you and the rest of Barcelona’s in-house media team.

“But you love media day,” you tease Alexia, knowing that your girlfriend hates the spotlight that comes with being such a high-profile footballer, that she only tolerates all the media because she knows how important it is for the growth of the game.

“Only when you’re doing it,” Alexia reminds you.

Your heart swells at this. Even after several months of dating, you still get a thrill every time you’re reminded that you’re her person. That Alexia is just as obsessed with you as you are with her.

“What are you doing?” Alexia asks, sliding closer to you on the couch so that she can peer at the screen of your laptop.

“Organising my hard drive,” you tell her.

“Sounds boring.”

“This is my job,” you remind her. “You know what media days are to you? You don’t like them but they’re a necessary part of your job? That’s what this admin is for me.”

“But you can do it later?”

It’s not like Alexia to be clingy, it’s normally you who gets needy when Alexia is busy with media appearances or returns from an international break, but you can tell from the tone of her voice that she needs a bit of love.

“Were all the cameras today not enough attention for you?” you tease her. “You need some from me too?”

“Always need attention from you,” Alexia says. She decides to take matters into her own hands, lifting your laptop up and ignoring your protests as she sets it down on the coffee table, before filling the space left behind by straddling your thighs. “Let’s try this again. Hi, baby.”

You let your hands rest on her thighs, knowing what she wants but willing to wait a little longer to force her to make the first move.

“Did you need something?” you challenge her, keeping your hands still even though they’re itching to slide further down and cup her ass.

Alexia pauses for a moment, then swings her legs away and stands up. She hates not being in control and you know it, which makes it all the more exciting for you when you feign disinterest and manage to resist her advances.

“Nothing I can’t do myself,” she answers, before she turns and walks out of the room.

You glance at your laptop, at the rest of the work you’d planned to get done tonight so that you can start tomorrow afresh, and though you like to tease, you know for certain that there’s no way you’re choosing work over the girlfriend who has just silently invited you to join her in her bedroom after making it very clear how much she’s missed you today.

As you push yourself off the couch and chase after Alexia, catching up to her before she even makes it to the bedroom, work is far from your mind.

———

Alexia is back to her normal self the following morning. The mattress beside you is empty when you wake, which doesn’t surprise you. Alexia has always been more of a morning person than you, choosing to rise early to prepare for the day with the kind of focus only a professional athlete could channel.

You slowly rouse from bed and stumble through Alexia’s apartment until you find her exactly where you knew she would be, sitting on the couch with a mug of coffee in one hand and an empty breakfast bowl sitting on the coffee table.

“Morning,” she says, looking up from the laptop on her knees and greets you with a warm smile. “There’s coffee in the kitchen for you.”

You mumble a sleepy thanks and go to investigate, grateful to your girlfriend when the first drop of caffeine hits your tongue. You decide to make yourself some breakfast while you’re there, rooting through the cupboard for a bowl but you don’t get much further than that when you hear Alexia’s voice call out from the adjoining room.

“Baby, what’s this?” 

You abandon the idea of food and wander back through to the living room, the few sips of coffee you took in the kitchen having woken you up enough to realise that it’s your laptop that she’s looking at. You panic, desperately trying to rack your brains to remember if there’s anything bad in your internet search history that she might’ve found, but draw a blank until you’re close enough to see the screen too.

Alexia looks up at you with a curious frown on her face and you look at the screen, realising that she’s got the folder from your hard drive open, from where you were tidying it up last night. And you know there’s nothing untoward there, just folders neatly organised, some with player names and some with the dates of specific matches but there’s also the folder that Alexia has open. The folder that is named nothing more than a red heart emoji. The folder that contains a smaller collection of candid photos of Alexia from training and matches that don’t make it onto any of the official social media channels.

The folder that nobody but you is supposed to know exists.

Well, now it’s you and Alexia who know of its existence.

“I…” you stammer, trying to come up with an excuse. There’s an actual ‘Alexia’ folder on your hard drive too, photos that you’re happy to share with the club and the rest of the world, but taking pictures of Alexia is one of your favourite things to do so of course you sometimes end up taking more of her than the other players. And so what if you keep some of those photos for yourself, a collection of some of your favourite images of your girlfriend captured completely in her element, for your eyes only.

“Have I got myself a little stalker?” Alexia teases you.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you pout.

“So you’re not obsessed with me?”

“Says the person who went a few hours without seeing me at work yesterday and was climbing into my lap barely five minutes after getting home,” you point out, in an attempt to save some of your dignity. 

“Oh, I’m not denying my infatuation,” Alexia replies. She flicks through the photos in the secret folder, stopping on one which is a side profile of Alexia, laughing candidly about something during training a few weeks ago. “This is a nice one.”

“They’re all nice, that’s why I keep them,” you say, as Alexia continues to scroll through them. “Sometimes I take pictures of you that I really like so I keep them all in a special place for later.”

She stops on another, this one taken during a game, where Alexia has lifted the hem of her football jersey up to wipe at her face, revealing the enticing set of abs beneath. You feel your cheeks start to heat up as Alexia tilts her head and shoots you a knowing smirk, and you’re caught between making eye contact with her, or staring at the abs on the laptop screen, each option only flustering your further.

“I suppose you think this one is ‘nice’ too?” Alexia asks, arching an eyebrow. “And on your work laptop too, naughty girl.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Alexia says, in a tone that makes it sound like she doesn’t believe you at all. “You definitely don’t take photos like this for when I’m away with the Spanish team and you’re really missing me…”

“I don’t,” you insist, shutting the laptop firmly and moving it out of Alexia’s reach, before sitting down beside her and curling into her side. Your cheeks are burning slightly at the suggestion, and thinking of the slight accuracy to Alexia’s words, you add in a murmured voice, “I’ve got much dirtier pictures of you in a private folder on my phone for that.”

Alexia turns her head, reaching for your jaw and tilting it upwards to look at her, her eyes dark at the suggestion.

“Want to show me what you do with those?”

The laptop is forgotten, the embarrassment of Alexia finding the secret folder on your hard drive dedicated just to her at the back of your mind as it’s replaced by far more interesting thoughts.

“You’re insatiable, cariño,” you roll your eyes, pretending to be annoyed by her advances.

Alexia pulls you into her lap effortlessly, and it’s far from the first time that you’ve been grateful for the hours that she spends in the gym. And her moves aren’t the only thing that’s smooth, because the words she utters next are like honey in your ears.

“Look at you, how could I not be?”

Alexia’s words, intended to seduce, successfully coax your lips onto hers as you meet her in a deep kiss.

There might come a day when the initial excitement of your relationship with Alexia fades into comfort and domesticity as you build a life together, a day when Alexia doesn’t crave your touch after a day apart or when you don’t save all your favourite photos of Alexia in one place to look at when you miss her. 

That day is definitely not today, so you’re content to keep being obsessed with each other.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Two Round Apples (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! This is a very horny fic. Not much thought or plot, but a lot of steamy thots. Enjoy :)

Summary: You try to do a good deed for your closest friend, but it backfires . . . and you accidentally see Matt naked. And his butt. It's awkward, but the thing about the both of you is that you both value fairness.

Warnings: Fluff, friendship, regular Nelson and Murdock shenaniganery, swearing, smut (oral - m! and f! receiving, fingering, p in v protected sex, dirty talk, Matt being a little cocky in bed)

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson and Karen Page

Word Count: 4,053

“And Matt’s at that client meeting, so he’s gonna swing back by his place before he comes in to grab some files he was working on last night,” Foggy says over the phone as you cross the street.

“Which files did he take to work on last night?” you ask, looking down at your watch.

“The Kenadie case, the Wayne file, and I think the Slavo, Riley, and Samuels case, too.”

“Wow, no rest for the wicked, huh?”

“You know our Matty Boy—he never takes a break. Ever.”

“Well, I should be in shortly,” you say, taking a left toward Matt’s building instead of a right toward the office. “A lot of foot traffic.”

“No taxi for you?”

“Gotta get my steps in, Fog. Besides, it’s a really nice day out. I’ll see you soon.”

“See ya.”

Hanging up, you slide your phone in your pocket and open the door to the lobby of Matt’s apartment, moving up the stairs before you reach the top floor, sorting through your keys before you find your spare for his door. It’ll be a nice surprise that he doesn’t have to go back and get them. You mean, you were literally right here anyways—sure, it’d be an unnecessary extra mile for an employee, but not for his friend he’s known since undergrad that just so happens to work at his law firm. At this point, it’s just something you’d do for him.

“Let’s see,” you hum as you close the door, looking at the table in the small entryway to see if they’re there before you move into his living room to search the coffee table. As you look and straighten things out, you hear a rustling from his bedroom, your head snapping in the direction of the sound. To your surprise, you watch Matt shuffle out of his room, naked as the day he was born, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his hand. You yelp in shock and surprise, dropping the files and turning around as you cover your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—I didn’t know you—!” you start, desperately trying to backpedal and lessen the embarrassment you're feeling.

“You’re okay, really, I—,” he starts, sounding just as frazzled as you are.

“Foggy mentioned you had a meeting and left some files—!”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, but—.”

“I-I’m gonna go,” you say, covering your eyes as you turn back around to try and find your keys you dropped on the ground. As you search around for the keys, you catch a glance of Matt’s ass as he’s turned around, his hands reached around to his front to cover himself. You stop in your tracks, letting your eyes linger on his strong muscular thighs and his perfectly round asscheeks. The perfectly round asscheeks that you could bounce a quarter off of.

The perfectly round asscheeks of one of your best friends. 

Swallowing hard, you regain your focus and pick up your keys, standing straight and scurrying out of the living room and rushing out of his building. You navigate the sidewalks as fast as lightning and get to the office in record time, immediately sitting down at your desk and throwing yourself into the work at hand.

“I don’t understand how it’s possible, but you look white as a ghost and totally flushed at the same time,” Karen says after about fifteen minutes.

“Hm? I’m okay,” you lie, as you type at your computer.

“Do you need coffee or something? You just don’t seem like yourself.”

“Slept funny—bad.”

“I’ll get a fresh pot of coffee brewing.”

As Karen gets up, the door to the office swings open and Matt enters, his cheeks bright red as he avoids turning in your direction. Foggy starts to head out of his office to ask Matt a question, his mouth opening but quickly closing it when he catches Matt’s demeanor. 

“What’s up with him?” he asks, turning toward Karen with furrowed brows.

“Maybe the client meeting didn’t go as planned?” she suggests.

“Maybe,” he sighs. “Nothing coffee can’t fix. Karen, sit down. It’s my turn to be brewmaster.”

“I’ll go get some coffee,” Matt says, all too eagerly leaving his office. “We should all caffeinate, and I mean, we have all day to drink coffee brewed here. My treat.”

“I’ll come with,” Foggy says, falling in step with his partner. “We’ll grab some bagels, too. Maybe they’ll even have muffins.”

Your eyes follow them as they slip outside of the main lobby, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Karen turns around to you.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she breathes.

“Kare—,” you start.

“Don’t even try to lie to me. What happened?”

“I saw Matt naked.”

“What?”

“This morning on my way back from taking care of those filings, I went to Matt’s place to pick up some files Foggy said he had left, and I used my spare key because Matt was at a client meeting, but he apparently wasn’t, and he walked out of his bedroom buck-ass naked, and I saw him.”

“Oh my God. Front or back?”

“Both.”

“Oh my God.”

“I mean, the front was brief, but I still saw things, but he turned around and I saw a lot of back.”

“Oh my God,” she repeats.

“And I stared. A lot.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know! I didn’t mean to stare, but, I mean . . . Kare, you’ve seen his ass in slacks. In jeans. Sweats. You know what it’s like to see it bare? It’s even better. Like, so so much better. It’s so firm and round and . . . I broke our friendship.”

“What, no!”

“Kare, I saw him naked. All I’ve been able to think about since is how I saw him naked, and how good he looks naked. You saw how he scurried in this morning and how he quickly he left to go on a coffee run! He wasn’t even in the same space for me for a full minute before he found an excuse to bolt! I ruined things!”

“It’s just awkward. I can guarantee, at some point, all super close friends see one another naked for some reason or another.”

“You think Matt has seen Foggy naked?”

“(Y/N), listen! You’re overthinking this!” She places her hands on your shoulders. “This is just a weird hump that you both have to push through. Sooner or later, you’re both gonna move past it and it’ll be fine.”

“You better be right, Kare. You better be right.”

“Staying late?” Foggy sighs, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Mm,” you confirm. “I was telling Karen when I got back from filing those papers at the courthouse that I didn’t sleep great, and unfortunately the coffee you and Matt so kindly got didn’t give me the boost I hoped for. And I’ve been plugging along all day with my work because I haven’t been able to focus. I just want to get a little more done.”

“Well, don’t over do it—you’re the glue that holds this place together.”

“And you’re the wind beneath my wings, Nelson,” you tease.

“See ya, (Y/N). Have a good night.”

“You, too, Fog.”

“Hey—sweet dreams!”

You give him one final wave as he leaves the office. When the door clicks shut, you turn your head to look at Matt’s office door. You shouldn’t just leave the events of this morning hanging in the air. It was awkward all day, and if you can nip this in the bud, it’ll be better for the office and your friendship as a whole. You get up, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants before you walk over to Matt’s office. As you raise your hand to knock on the door, it swings open on the hinges and Matt starts to walk out, basically knocking you over.

“I’m so sorry,” you both start to say, his hands resting on the small of your back to keep you upright.

“Matt, listen,” you start. “About this morning—.”

“Please, let me go first,” he breathes.

“No, please,” you counter. “Please let me go first.” 

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to interrupt you like that—.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything, I promise.” Matt dips his head slightly and flashes you a small smile to apologize for interrupting. “Foggy was covering for me—I haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights.” He sucks in a little breath, making his chest stick out a bit and decreasing the space between your bodies. “I also don’t usually sleep naked.”

Your cheeks burn hot as your mind trails back to seeing him bare this morning, imagining how glorious he must look in his bed, the sheets crinkled and pushed so far down on his hips that just his privates are covered, how beautiful his exposed, muscular thigh must look as he lounges on the mattress. “I was just too tired for pajamas last night.”

“Do you also sleep fight? You looked like you had bruises and scars all over you. Not that I was looking. 

“Restless sleeper,” he smirks. You swear the space between your bodies disappears even more as his voice drops an octave lower; there’s no need for him to do that with you being the only two in the office, barely any space between the two of you, but it does so many things just right. “And you don’t need to be bashful that you looked. I didn’t mind at all.”

Is this man trying to give you a heart attack?

“I was thinking . . .” you start, your heart pounding out of your chest. “It’s only fair that you see mine since I saw yours.”

Matt’s tongue pokes out to wet hips perfectly pouty lips. “I’d have to touch you to see it, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

You both swallow heard, and as he starts to move in for a kiss, you dip your head and pull back slightly.

“Not here,” you breathe. “Let’s go back to your place.”

Matt gently closes the door to his apartment behind him as you gently walk through the space, bringing yourself to the same spot where you stood this morning. He folds up his cane and puts it with his glasses by the door before walking toward you slowly—not terribly slow, but not as his normal pace, either.

“You don’t need to,” he breathes in the little space between you two, his nose practically touching yours as his unfocused eyes move all over your face.

“I know,” you breathe. “But I meant what I said in the office. It’s only fair.”

Grabbing hold of his tie, you gently tug on it to pull him in closer to you, closing the space between your bodies and feeling is soft, pouty lips again yours. If air in your lungs was scarce before, it’s completely gone when your lips connect. His body melts into yours, one hand resting on your hip and the other resting on your ribcage. Matt is the first to pull back, only pulling his lips away enough to officially break the kiss as he rests his forehead on yours. 

“Ah ah ah,” you tut as you feel his fingers start to pull at the hem of your shirt. “You were already naked when I got here this morning. Give me a little room.”

Matt’s face looks completely blown with lust, but he slowly nods, moving his hands from your body. With a shaky breath, you pull off your shirt and drop it to your right before you undo the clasp and zipper on your pants, looping your fingers in the elastic of your underwear to get them both down in one fell swoop, fabric pooling at your ankles. Matt’s face flushes, and his tongue slips out between his lips as he gently flexes and wiggles his fingers as he keeps himself from touching your body for the time being. Your eyes start to look up and down the length of his body before you reach around your back and unclasp your bra, feeling it go limp before you push the straps down your arms and let it fall. As it falls down, you notice it hit against a growing erection in his pants that looks increasingly uncomfortable. 

“You can touch me whenever and wherever you want,” you breathe. 

“Mmm,” he hums, his lids hooded with desire. His fingers start to graze over the back of your hands before gently tracing up your arms, making goosebumps dance all over your skin. Once his fingertips hit your elbow, he tilts his wrists so his hands start to glide up and over your skin. As they reach your shoulders, Matt gently glides them up, his hand cradling your neck while his other hand tucks hair behind your ear. “Is this okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter, your heart racing a million miles an hour.

His eyebrows gently lift up in delight and care as if he’s listening to your body tick and purr as he nods softly. “If you want me to stop, say the word.”

“Okay,” you breathe before adding with a little smirk, “You can keep going.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight as he smiles. His hands gently glide down from your face and neck, over your collarbone, and down over your breasts, his thumbs grazing over your nipples, causing them to peak. 

“I might get a better image if I feel you some more,” he says, his voice low and gravely with what you can only describe as desire as his hands gently drag along your ribcage and around to your back.

You half-register the “yes” that tumbles from your lips, and you gasp in delight when you feel his lips on your neck, softly pressing kisses down the column of skin, over your breasts, above your pounding heart, and eventually around one of your pert nipples. He gently sucks at it with each kiss before moving to the other one and doing the same exact thing again.

“Matt,” you breathe, your hands slipping into his soft hair, your fingernails scratching at his scalp. He hums into your skin, moving off of your breast and spreading kisses all over your stomach before he is on his knees in front of you. As his embraces spread across your pelvic bone and grow closer to the dripping heat between your legs. Matt’s hands slide down your back further before they’re gently resting over the curve of your ass. You gasp, a small moan falling from your throat as you tilt your head back in delight as he starts to kiss and lick at your dripping pussy. “Oh m—. . . fuck, Matt.”

He just hums, continuing his work diligently and deliberately as you get pulled closer to the edge, teetering on the brink of your pleasure. As you approach, Matt pulls his lips from the apex between your legs, kissing down your thighs and legs before moving back up, carefully moving his kisses around to your back and kissing the skin he neglected. Matt kisses up your spine as he straightens his legs to stand, one of his hands staying at your hips and between your legs, carefully playing with you as his lips and other hand continue to explore your body. A tingle shoots down your spine as his lips press kisses into your shoulder, his fingers brushing your hair aside so he can kiss up your neck and behind your ear.

“How good of a look did you really get this morning?” he asks quietly, his voice dropping to an octave that goes right between your legs and would make you do absolutely anything he told you to do.

“I-I tried not to look,” you stutter.

“But you stared at my ass, though.”

“Yes,” you grin.

“Sounds like you could use a better look at the front. You know, all things being fair in this.”

“I’d hate to be unfair.” He chuckles deeply, kissing at the sweet spot behind your ear before moving around to your front. “I think your bedroom as better lighting, though. It’d mimic this morning. Again, all things being equal.”

“Like you said, sweetheart. I’d hate to be unfair.”

You turn into his touch, bringing your lips to his and kissing him deeply as his hands hold you flush against him. Your lips move back and forth, the desire and delight growing more and more that you almost forget your plan to move to his room. He sweeps you up, his strong hands wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you up before he begins to move across his apartment, his lips never leaving your skin. You moan into his mouth when you feel the cool, soft, silky-smoothness of his sheets on your back.

“You want to undress me, or should I do it?” he smirks.

“I’m happy to assist,” you grin, matching his expression. 

He laughs and nods, his fingers working to unbutton his shirt while you make quick work with his belt and pants, wrapping your hand around his sizable erection and pumping, making Matt groan at your touch.

“Lay back, angel,” he husks, pulling his shirt off. “Lay back and take it all in.” You let go and do as he asks, watching him as he steps out of his pants and boxers, pumping himself as he kneels on the bed. “Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

Matt leans down, supporting himself on one hand while he keeps pumping himself, his lips crashing into yours. You cup his face in your hand, doing what you can to intensify the kiss. Your other hand slips into the sweet spot of his back, right above the curve of his ass, his erection gliding right against the slick between your legs. You groan into the embrace as your privates touch in the most delicious of ways, the hand you have on his cheek sliding up to tug on his hair. Matt pulls his lips from yours and kisses your neck and clavicle, marking you up before moving back up to kiss you deeply and repeatedly before pulling back to reach over in his nightstand to grab a condom. Tearing open the foil package, you watch him roll it on his length, making sure the tip has room and it’s secure.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he breathes, one hand cradling the side of your face as he kisses your cheek and neck, the other sliding down your side.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Hang on, angel.” With another kiss, he reaches over and pulls down one of his extra pillows at the head of his bed. “Lift your hips for me.” You do as he asks, and he wiggles the pillow under your hips, kissing all the way up your stomach, between your breasts, and back on your lips. “Spread your legs, please.”

Tilting your knees to the side, you expose everything to him, gasping and leaning back into the pillow under your head while he strokes his cock up and down your slit.

“Matt,” you breathe, digging your nails into the soft flesh of his shoulders. “Matty, please.”

He kisses you again, saying so much with the embrace without saying a single word. He nose brushes against yours tenderly before rolling his hips forward and slowly pushing in. You cry out, nuzzling into him as he sinks in inch by inch, stretching you wide and filling you gloriously until he can’t push in any further.

“Tell me when I can move,” Matt kisses into your chest.

“Move,” you beg almost immediately. “Matt, please, move.”

He chuckles softly and smiles, nodding and giving you a kiss as he starts to drag his hips back before starting to push back in. The pace is steady and comfortable, but with each push and pull, you just about lose your mind at the sensation thanks to the pillow under your hips, unable to prevent the moans and whimpers that fall from your mouth. Matt grabs one of your legs and lifts it higher, helping him hit deeper and making you cry out louder.

“Just like that, angel,” he grunts. “Fuck, (Y/N), you feel so good.”

“Matt!” you swallow. “Matt, harder!”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck, just like that, please!”

His hips pick up the pace, making the bed squeak and filling his bedroom with the sounds of your slapping skin. Your head lolls back in pure bliss as your chest heaves as you pant in pleasure, blindly grabbing at Matt’s arms for a sense of stability. The moans that he pulls from your throat sound absolutely animalistic and feral as he repeatedly thrusts into you.

“Deeper, please!” you beg. “Matt, please!”

“I know, angel girl,” he grunts. “You feel so fucking nice, I want to make you feel all kinds of good, sweetheart.”

“Kiss me,” you swallow, finally managing to get a good grip on him to pull him down, his lips crashing into yours, his hips only faltering slightly. He moans into your mouth as he resumes his thrusts, his hands gripping your hips tightly in an effort to help in hit deeper. Pulling his lips from yours, he attaches them to your neck, right on your sensitive spot as he nips and sucks to mark you up as his. “Matty, I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” he taunts. “This dick just too good for you? Can’t hold out for more?”

“Matt!”

“Tell me how good this dick is, angel.”

“Fuck, Matt! Your dick is so good! Best dick I’ve ever had!”

“Shit, (Y/N), you’re so good for me—your pussy is so tight, sweetheart. And it’s all for me.” He trusts deeply. “All.” Thrust. “For.” Thrust. “Me.” Thrust.

His pelvis rubs against you just right with a deep thrust, and you cum around his dick with a body-trembling force, your voice reaching a pitch you didn’t know was possible. Matt’s mouth slots over yours, capturing your cries of pleasure in his mouth, using it as fuel for his own passion.

“Matt,” you whisper in his ear. “Pull out.”

“What?” he huffs in confusion as his hips slow. You muster enough energy to roll your bodies over so he’s flat on his back and you slide off of him. You whine at the emptiness, but you eagerly move over him and pull off his condom, replacing the latex with your mouth and hand. Matt moans out in pure ecstasy, the muscles in his strong thighs clenching in surprise as you play with him and eagerly bob your head.

“Angel, I’m gonna cum,” he breathes. “I’m gonna cum.”

You hum in delight at the thought of your mouth being the thing that pushes him over the edge, the thought of just how big his load is shooting right between your legs and making you want him even more. With a careful squeeze of your hand at his base with his balls, he bucks his hips up, shoving his cock all the way down your throat as he cums. You move your hands and spread them across his hips, working to keep all of Matt down your throat as you swallow his cum, one of his hands cradling the side of your face. When he’s finally done, you slowly slide off of him, gasping for breath when your lips finally release his cock with a soft popping noise. You go back down, wrapping your lips around his head to suck him dry and clean him off before you move your kisses up his body, up along his bellybutton and abs, his chest and clavicle, neck, and finally his lips.

“Mm,” you hum into the embrace, nuzzling your nose against his after you break the kiss.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he murmurs. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No. Everything was great.”

Matt smiles like an idiot, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you again before rolling the two of you onto your sides, your legs tangling together. 

“I like that you value fairness so highly,” he chuckles softly, his pouty lips kissing under your jaw.

“I like that you were too tired for pajamas last night.”

This time you both laugh before your lips connect again.

“Maybe I’ll make it a habit when you’re around.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters

[aliorsboxostuff]

I LOVE THE MIGUEL FICS SO MYCH OH MY GOD

Could I request a fic where Miguel gets flustered over you kissing him and showering him with love and you tease him about it?

WOWWWIE I GOT CARRIED AWAY W THIS ONE GHJDFGLKSH left it on a cliffhanger cuz i wasnt hmmm….. ‘Ovulating’ as the girls says it LMAO anyways hope you enjoy this anon!!

Skittering Touch

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Spider Society, No Smut, Kissing , Fluff, Reader is another spiderman, Tease!Reader, slight OOC, teasing, suggestive content

Maybe teasing Miguel that much was worth it. 

—

It’s been half a year since you began going out with Miguel.

Half a year of subtle touches, short pecks on the lips and cheek and stealing glances at each other. Obviously, as time moves, so does a relationship and your relationship with the Spider Society leader is no different. 

The funny thing is, despite Miguel's hardened exterior, you never miss to spot the man melting whenever you give him the slightest affection. Whether it be holding his hand, suddenly giving him a peck on the cheek, or wrapping your arms around him he would immediately halt whatever he was doing and turn into a red, stuttering mess. 

You've used this advantage over him too many times to count. Most of it was used whenever you found the younglings getting scolded by Miguel, usually just out of his irritation, but you knew it’d affect the teen’s mood for the rest of the day. As you watch Miguel, hands on hips with his annoyed tone towards Miles and Gwen, you can't help but snicker at the plan brewing in your head. You swing down from the beam you were hanging on and stop behind Miguel before slithering your arms around his narrow waist. You practically felt the sudden jolt of his body, Miguel’s arms half extended like a bird's wings. 

“With that the two of you should've-” He choked, feeling your familiar warmth behind him. 

“Awhh honeeey, have mercy on these kids would ya’? I'm sure they didn't mean to do whatever it is they did,” You pout, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Why don't you two excuse yourselves and head over to Margo, hm? I bet she has some stuff you two can work on,”

Despite the same confused expression on the teens’ faces, they both hurry to swing out of the area, leaving you with a flustered Miguel in your arms. 

“Sweet heart why would you…” You giggle at his groaned-out response, finding the much larger man adorable while his complexion turns a deep red. 

“Sorry Miguel, I just couldn't resist your tempting hips, they’re just built for my arms,” You smirk as the man turns around, his arms around your neck. Miguel huffs as he's unable to hold the smile that creeps up his lips. That triples his current cuteness and you couldn't help but bring him closer to press your lips against his. Miguel returns the eagerness, a deep chuckle rumbles through him.

Other times, it was to help Miguel out instead of teasing him in front of the other Spideys. 

Whenever a mission does a number on him, you could find Miguel burying himself in work and suddenly too deep into surveying the myriads of universes scattered across the webs. It digs a deep worry into your heart seeing him in such a distressing state. Sometimes it takes you a while just to call him down to have dinner together. But there is one way to snap him out of that s[iral of overworking himself.

You’d swing yourself atop his platform before softly landing beside him. With a steady hand on his shoulder, you pull his chin towards you and leave a short peck on his cheek. Miguel would blink once, twice before inhaling sharply as his blush spread through him. 

“Carino,” You’d call, earning Miguel’s full attention now. “It's getting late, let's have dinner together,”

You smile as you press the ascent button on the platform, slowly leading Miguel towards your shared sleeping living quarters where a warm dinner is waiting. 

After dinner you’ll coil around him and bring him to bed, patting his soft curls while he lets off steam with whispers of a rant or simply bask in your warmth, engulfed within your arms. At these times, you cherish how big and cuddly Miguel truly is, especially how he keens when you scratch a certain spot on his nape. Your boyfriend resembles so much like a big panther it’s hard to find him intimidating, you thought with a giggle. 

“Why’re you laughin?” He glances, propping his chin on the expanse of your chest. You shake your head, a smile still evident on your lips. 

“Nothin’ love, what were you saying about Gwen again?” And he’ll continue his rambling.

Other times, you do it well… just because. When you have the most respected spidey in the compound by the tips of your finger, why won't you play with him a little, you know? 

It's been a week of nonstop onslaught towards Miguel. Swinging past him while he talks with Jessica and smacking a kiss right on his forehead, making him halt with an immediate blush over those high cheekbones. Then wrapping your arms just for a minute while he reviews mission files, making him drop the holo-tablet with a clang before you jump away. Or the day when you kissed the back of his hand, squeezing it, before leaping into a portal into the dimension you were assigned, making him stand blankly while Miles's group snicker before they jump into their portals.

When Lyla informed you that Miguel was waiting in your shared living space, you quickly ran from finishing your mission and into the directions of the room. Miguel must have been in a sour mood to have Lyla tell you he’s expecting you instead of shooting a text himself, but you thought it must have been another misbehaving spidey or a mission gone sideways, so when you entered the room to find it empty your brows raised in question. 

“Miguel?”You call into the ghostly room with nothing to reverb an answer. You take a step inside, pulling back the cover to, obviously, no one. Tilting your head, you figured Miguel won't be hiding in the bathroom if he ever was hiding. The only possible conclusion would be Miguel is waiting for you in the other room, a small office space you usually hole up to read or do your other hobbies. 

The door slides open with a hiss, the room inside engulfed in darkness. You take a cautious step inside. “Miguel, Lyla told me you-”

Your spidey senses weren't triggered by how fast Miguel pinned your waist to the wall. His claws gather your wrists above your head, and another sharp nail dances over the fabric of your suit.

“You…” He growls, eyes a bleeding red as it bores into you. Hot breath ghosts over your pulse as you gulp, you anticipate the sharp sting of Miguel’s fangs. 

“You’ve been teasing me this whole week, you little-” He huffs, taking a lungful of your musk, before another low growl breaks out as he straightens to meet your eyes again. His breath is labored, eyes almost frantic with either arousal or anger you couldn't discern. 

“Take resposnisbility.” Miguel bites before he releases your hands, now those claws reach around your body, pawing at your suit, which you quickly pry off of yourself.

Maybe teasing Miguel that much is worth it. 

Reblogs are appreciated <3

[gucciwins]

ok but now i’m curious about when and how jo call end yn mama for the first time

Golden Sparks Josie is ten. It's been fun revisiting this family 1.3k enjoy!

+

“Do you think Mom or Mumma is better?” Josie asked Harry as he finished braiding her hair. Josie didn’t like Harry doing her hair, but Y/N had an early morning. She didn’t want to wake Jo up early and instead had Harry promise to do his best. 

“Think Mom is normal and common here,” Harry answers, his ten-year-old daughter. 

She furrowed her eyebrows, “don’t think she likes normal.” 

“I’m normal,” Harry defends. 

Josie shrugs in the mirror, “not in my eyes.” 

Harry deflated because he is a dork at heart, but his daughter didn’t need to be so blunt. “You need to be nicer to your old man.” 

Josie laughs loudly in her bathroom. “You’re not old, Dad.” 

He pats her shoulders, gesturing he’s done, and follows her to the kitchen, where he will make her breakfast before her game. Y/N promised to meet her there and was sorry she couldn’t drive her there. Jo assured her it was okay. Y/N hadn’t missed a game and wouldn’t be starting now. 

“Do you think she’ll like that I call her Mum?” Josie asks Harry, returning to their earlier conversation. 

Harry nods, “she’s been in your life for two years. I’d say she fits the role.” 

“Just because she’s with you doesn’t make her my mother.” 

He sighs because he knows where Josie is coming from. After everything she experienced with her mother, he knows why she’s hesitant to call Y/N a name with so much meaning. After all, she had a mom once, and it wasn’t so good. Maybe calling Y/N Mum or Mumma would be another way of Josie to reclaim the word and give them all a new meaning.

“Y/N loves you, Josephine. She’s loved you since you opened up to her when you joined the team. Sometimes, I feel like Y/N knows you better than I do. And you’re my kid,” Harry shares. “She’s engaged to me, but it unites us all as a family when we marry. Even if we don’t share the same last name, the three of us will become one family.” 

“We can take hers,” Josie suggests. 

Harry kisses her head. “We’d have to talk with her about that too.” 

“Do you think she considers me hers–like her child?” 

Harry wishes he had all the answers for Josie, but he doesn’t, though this answer is one he’s confident in. Y/N talks about all of Josie’s accomplishments, sharing them with her family. “I can’t speak to her. I do know that every I love you she’s ever told you is real. She’s lived with us for over a year.” Y/N had been right by Harry’s side for every parent meeting open house and picked up Josie from school most of the time. She was a mother in all ways but one. 

“Didn’t we move in?” Josie corrects him.

“Alright, you smarty pants,” Harry shakes his head. “You can start walking to your game.” 

“Dad,” Josie drags out his name. 

He swings her bag over his shoulder, thankful he had already set the cooler in the car. “Kidding, now off we go. You’re mum,” he teases, is big on punctuality. 

Arriving at the field, Y/N is already there and has the first drill for warm-up set up. There is already a dad talking to her, and Harry’s sure it’s Dana’s dad who’s been chatting her up, even with the engagement ring on her finger. After last week's practice, Harry may have gone a little overboard with the PDA, but the guy can’t take a hint. Thankfully, Josie quickly runs over to her, and the man excuses himself. 

His heart warms seeing his two favorite people, Y/N quick to kiss her cheek and commenting on Josie’s lopsided braids. He tried, but there is no one better than Y/N, that’s for sure. Harry sets his chair close to the girls' bench because while Y/N is focused during the game, he manages to steal a kiss or two during a throw-in or a corner if he’s lucky.

Y/N is now crouched down, tying Josie’s shoes. They’re whispering to each other about something, but Harry doesn’t dare interrupt. Y/N pats Josie’s knees and tells her she’s all good to go. One last hug and his little girl is running onto the field, where the assistant coach stands with a few other girls. The girls always liked terrorizing Kate, wanting to know about her three cats.

“Darling,” Harry sings. “Missed you.” 

Y/N steps into his open arms, laying her head on his chest. “Love you, sorry I had to leave so early.” 

“All forgiven now.” Y/N grins. “Only if I get to pick where we eat?” Harry knows she loves choosing, but he wants today to be special. 

“Mexican?” 

Harry kisses her lips. “You read my mind.” 

“Did Jo seem a bit jittery to you?” Y/N changes the subject. “She’s usually calm before a game.” 

Harry frowns, “did she say anything new to you?”

Y/N shakes her head. 

“Then no, I have no idea.”  

Weird answer Y/N thought, but decided to brush it off. “Alright, love. I’m off.” 

“Hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go,” he whispered. 

“Dork!” Y/N shouted. 

+

The game went well, with Golden Sparks winning 3-1 with Josie giving two assists. Y/N was waving goodbye to her players when he spotted Josie lingering away. Juliet followed Y/N’s every move, still as in awe of her aunt as when Harry first met her. Juliet got called away by Xavier, who was dealing with two toddlers. Y/N kissed her niece goodbye, promising to see her tomorrow for the pool party Y/N was hosting to celebrate the start of summer. 

“Job well done, Jo.” Y/N swings Josie’s bag over her shoulder while Harry takes Y/N’s. She playfully tugs it back but lets it slip when Harry looks sternly at her.

“Are we eating at home?” Jo asks them.

Y/N smiles down at Josie. “Your dad wants Mexican. You alright with that?”

“Perfect. Can I have the keys?” Y/N offers her own, knowing Josie prefers to ride with Y/N after a game. 

Josie hugs her waist tight. “I’m riding with Mum, Dad.” 

Y/N freezes in place as she processes what Josie called her. Harry is right by her side, failing to hold back his grin. 

Josie called her Mom. She heard it clear as day. Josie said it so confidently it was as if she’d been calling her that all her life. 

“Did-did she call me?” She stutters. 

Harry laughs, “you heard her, baby.” 

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. She tries to hold them back but lets them fall as Harry embraces her. 

She drops the bag on her shoulder, knowing Harry would pick it up, and tells him to make their food order to go. Y/N kisses Harry, muttering against his lips how much she loves him, and then takes off running to her car, eager to see her little girl and see if she’d call her Mom once more. 

Y/N swings open the door on the right side where Josie always sits. She’s singing along to the radio, the AC on blast, and Y/N hugs her. 

“Mumma, what’s going on?” 

“I love you so much, baby. So much. You’re the best thing to have ever happened to me and your dad. Don’t know what I did to deserve someone as amazing as you to choose me as their Mom.” Y/N cries, not able to hide her emotions. 

Jo hugs her tiger, “I love you too, Mum.” 

Y/N wants to live in this moment forever but knows they should get home. “Let’s go home, Jo.”

“Stevie Nicks, Mum?” 

“Perfect choice.”

[abiiors]

the ball's in your court - george x reader (ft. matty tihi) ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🔆:✧˚.🍉⋆𖧧🐚

a/n: aka the challengers au threesome aka utter summer filth. this is mostly george, matty's just in it because he's pretty cw: very pathetic descriptions of tennis because i know fuckall about it. men kissing (happy pride month), semi awful flirting i guess but it's not too bad this time, threesome, cumplay, joint fingering??? blowjobs, masturbation, no actual p in v sex though wc: 4k

sweat. that’s the first thing you remember. sweat dripping on the hot tennis court on a blistering day in june, running down their faces in rivulets and flying off in droplets whenever they jump and run and swing and breathe. 

sweat, soaking their t-shirts, making it cling to their sculpted bodies. their sun-tanned arms move beautifully. they’re visually appealing, at least, even if their tennis skills are a bit pathetic. too much twisting of the wrist, too much swish, a shot that’s too wide, a shot that’s not wide enough. 

at least they’re good entertainment if not good players. the joy of watching country club brats fall flat on their asses is like no other. 

you pop the gum in your mouth, and watch them from the shade. matty and george. george and matty. 

they’re regulars, and they might not know you or your name, but you know them. in the same way you know the creak in a stair—not because you’ve tried to look for it and made an effort, but because it’s a force of habit. 

you’ve watched them so many times too, right here on this court, taking out their aggressions on their rackets and tennis balls. their t-shirts ride up each time they jump, exposing their tattoo-covered torsos, the bands of their underwear. the muscles in their thighs are pulled taut too—they’re nice to look at, you think. certainly easy on the eyes. 

“we have audience,” george says, his eyes trained on matty, his mouth curved upwards into a smirk. not once does he look at you. 

matty looks at you from the corner of his eyes. his gorgeous, dark curls are plastered on his forehead, the bridge of his straight nose glistens with sweat. you bite your lip in anticipation. 

you should have gone straight inside after making sure all the balls on the empty courts were collected. you should’ve been making sure you’re not needed somewhere else. and yet here you are… indulging. 

“what do you do? just watch?” george asks loudly. suddenly, his dark gaze is trained on you. the sun might be on them directly but it’s you who feels dizzy. 

you push off the wall, walk a little further and out of the shade. “i work here.”

for a bit he doesn’t say anything, he just looks at matty who seems to be barely stifling a smile. you can’t quite decipher what happens between them then, a nod and a coy smile, like it’s their little secret code. it’s about you, that much you’re sure of. 

and your point is proven a second later when george sets his racket down and walks up to you. 

up close he’s huge, tall enough to tower over you and leave you craning your neck. the hollow of his throat is pink with a hint of sunburn, glistening just like the rest of his forehead. his white uniform is stained with grass a little, but you doubt that bothers someone like him, someone rich enough to afford a year long membership at one of the top country clubs. 

you don’t back away from him though. if anything, you wonder if you should take a step closer, wonder if you should give matty a show since he’s so busy gawking at you and george. 

george, to his credit, doesn’t try to cross the boundary. although he certainly toes it. 

“no, i can see that,” george thumbs the top button of your uniform, the one right below your throat and just above the dip between your breast. he toys with it a second, until it threatens to pop open. “i mean what do you do on the court? just watch? or…” 

“do i play, you mean.” you place your thumb over his, pop the button open easily since it’s already so precarious. when george raises his eyebrow, you shrug. “what? it’s hot.”

george rolls his eyes, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his face too. “oh, do you?”

“a little, we aren’t allowed, technically,” you admit, “but the patrons…” 

“old, sleazy men who like pretty girls in tennis skirts?” 

you laugh. “yeah, them. the managers can’t say no to patrons. and i can’t say no to tips.” 

the club’s not being very subtle either, what with your uniform being a literal tennis skirt, not one that might be functional in the slightest, not for its actual purpose anyway… 

george takes a moment to look you up and down. you can’t lie, it’s certainly flattering to steal his attention like this. 

“george!” matty calls out for him, shitting-eating grin stretched wide on his face. “quit flirting and come back for the next set.”

“yeah, go back for the next set, george,” you tease, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. he doesn’t move an inch. 

“come play a few sets with us.”

“there’ll be three of us. a bit crowded, no?” 

“why?” he cocks an eyebrow, “afraid you can’t take both of us on?”

you look him up and down, lingering especially on the t-shirt sticking to his stomach and his broad chest. then you click your tongue. “the real question is… can you take me on?”

george is distraction personified. 

you decide it’s best to play against matty first—george decides it, more like and you agree. except now that he’s sat in a chair, legs sprawled wide and t-shirt discarded on the ground, you regret it.

the tattoos covering his arms glisten under the sun, his tanned sweaty chest makes your head turn every few seconds, and every time george catches you staring, he smirks. insufferable, annoying, fucking hot. 

focusing on matty’s no better for you. he’s worse than you at tennis, that much is a fact. you’ve already won the first set against him, but then he has that way of staring at you across the net, curls dropping in his eyes, and his crooked smile on display. it’s disarming, if you’re being completely honest. 

“a break?” george calls out when you set your racket down. you are panting a little, but it has little to do with the sport and more to do with the other kinds of heat coursing through you. 

“maybe…” you begin walking off court, toying with the idea of undoing another button. it would be crass… 

across the court, matty takes his t-shirt off too, throws it on the ground and takes a swig out of his bottle. you sit closer to george. 

once your breathing returns a bit to normal, you train your gaze on him, on the way he looks at you with barely concealed interest, subtly flexing his arms while he leans forward, elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists. his jaw looks sharp enough to cut like this, and yet you have the strongest urge to run your finger along it. maybe even your tongue. 

“my friend’s dying for your number.” his tone is so nonchalant that you almost miss it. 

“matty?” you steal a subtle glance at him, lying there on the court shirtless, sun warming his skin. “and he told you this…when?”

george pokes his tongue in his cheek, concealing a smile. “we don’t always have to talk, love…”

“i see…” you mirror his pose, leaning forward with just as much interest, relishing in the way his gaze dips to your cleavage and then back up to your face. a quick glance, a stolen glance. “and you’re not? dying for my number?”

“would you like me to?”

“would you rather i go home with your friend?”

“oh who said anything about going home?”

an image flashes in your head. you, george, matty—in the locker room that would be empty this late in the day, but of course there’s always a chance someone might walk in. someone might see… quickly, you cross your legs together. george notes the movement with much interest. 

“what would you do? just watch?” you steal another lingering glance at matty, who’s sitting up by now, forearms on his knees, watching this exchange with a kind of intensity on his face that you haven’t seen yet. 

“there are worse things than watching, won’t you agree?” george steals your attention away again. 

“and is that what you do? watch?”

george laughs, leaning back. then he hooks his foot under your chair, swiftly pulling you closer somehow on the grassy turf. 

“where?”

“the lockers are free.”

“i’m serious…” he looks at matty, nodding subtly, “we are serious.”

“who says i’m not?”

matty gets up then, dusting off his shorts and walking up to you, right behind you, until his hands are on your shoulders, lightly massaging. you can’t resist a low moan that slips out of you, rolling your head back and closing your eyes. you hope he’s just as good with his hands everywhere else…

“have you decided then,” matty asks, “picked one of us?”

“why not both?”

matty grins, all sharp teeth and wicked smugness. “if that’s what you wish.”

“aren’t you so bold on the court,” george’s breath is hot on your neck, his arms circling your waist, fingers trailing under your t-shirt and up, up, up until the graze the underside of your boob. you hiss, matty falters in his step. 

still, he doesn’t turn, surveying the locker room like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “matty?”

george’s hand still. “oh is that who you want now?”

“want you both,” you moan, “like i was promised.”

“you were promised—” george whirls you around, manhandling you like you weigh nothing to him until you’re pressed flush against his chest, and he’s close enough for you to kiss him “—nothing.”

“come on, now…” matty’s there suddenly, pressing his chest against your back, grabbing your hips until you can feel his hard dick against your ass. “let’s not lie.”

“mmm i like matty,” you smirk at george, then turn your head sideways so matty can grab your jaw like there’s no tomorrow. at this angle it’s an awkward kiss—teeth against your lips and his tongue on the inside of your cheek, but you gasp just the same, throwing yourself into it. 

george takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck. it’s more than just a kiss, if anything you know it’s going to leave a mark impossible to hide. his teeth graze over your pulse point, tongue circling it until you moan loudly into matty’s mouth. 

george pushes against you. “shower. now.” 

his voice is a growl, low and urgent, and not one bone in your body is capable of disobeying him. you break the kiss and turn back to george, walking backwards toward the open showers, making sure not to break eye contact. you do however undo a button of your shirt with each step until it’s completely off you, leaving you in a cream lacy bra and the tiny tennis skirts. matty whistles appreciatively, about to take his shirt off too. 

“no,” you object, almost inside the cubicle. “i want george to take off your t-shirt. go on now.”

matty raises an eyebrow and turns to look back at george. his eyes are still trained on you however, glittering with a challenge. 

“oh you want a show, darling? she wants a show matty…”

matty hmms, “go on, do it then.”

you bite your lip, eyes trailing on their bodies with barely concealed lust. george grips matty’s jaw. it’s not forceful or harsh, but it is enough that his eyes widen. he doesn’t move away though, he just lets george pull him closer and tilt his chin up. he just lets george pull him into a kiss. 

it’s a sloppy kiss—teeth colliding against each other, mouths moving out of sync—it’s a mess, frankly. and yet you can’t look away as george holds onto matty’s neck, fingers tight around the nape and lips hot on his jaw and for a moment it’s like you’re not in the room at all. 

matty whimpers. it’s a pathetic little sound that sends a bolt of thrill straight to your cunt, and you rub your thighs together, clenching in anticipation.

they only break the kiss so george can pull the t-shirt off matty and discard it into a rag. you’ve had enough of being ignored. 

“oh you are greedy,” he taunts, gripping your wrist tight just when you try to undress him. something tells you he’s used to getting what he wants, inside the bedroom and outside. 

“you’ll have to earn it though,” matty joins in. 

earn. yes. 

breathlessly, you nod, blood pumping through you at a dizzying pace. you know what george wants as he stares at your mouth, far longer than before. and so you give in, eager to please and to taste him, and you kneel, right there on the cold bathroom floor. 

“is this good enough?”

“much better,” he smirks, tracing your lip with his thumb. it would almost be a loving gesture if it weren’t for the utter and complete lust written all over his face. 

george looks eager, exchanging glances with matty, who stands against the wall, watching. his shorts are almost pulled down, exposing the v of his pelvis and the boner that he palms. matty is content watching. you turn your attention back to george. 

george leans against the wall, discarding his t-shirt somewhere and letting you pull his shorts down until they’re around his ankles, until he’s completely exposed with his hard cock centimetres away from your face. your mouth waters at the sight of him, but you choose to put your hand around him first. around his base, holding him in one hand while the other rests on his thigh. the bathroom tiles dig into your knees, but george groans and suddenly it’s all worth it.

he moans when you move your hand—a trail of your finger up along the thick vein that runs along his underside. you stare at him through your lashes, making sure he’s looking at you when you lick up his slit, already leaking with precum. 

“fuck…” matty groans behind you. 

you rather like this attention, like the fact that he’s getting off to the sight of you on your knees, about to get face-fucked by his best friend. 

george tries hard to keep his eyes open, to watch you as you put just the tip of his cock in your mouth. your hand is wrapped around his base, pumping lightly. you know it feels good because a moment later, his eyes flutter shut. 

his soft sighs turn into groans as you take him deeper into your mouth, only halfway through, still pumping him with one hand and swirling your tongue around his tip. the weight of it feels delicious on your tongue, the taste and the smell of sweat and grass and remnants off his cologne. it’s an odd mix, one that wouldn’t appeal to you otherwise. but here, now, it breaks through any semblance of control you feel over yourself, even as you try to take it slow, tease him mercilessly before you give him anything else.

but george is getting desperate, his hips bucks as he thrusts into your mouth reflexively, making you gag slightly. instead of apologising, george smirks. matty whimpers too, the sound of skin on skin and you look up at george, at his eyes that flit between you sucking him off and matty pleasuring himself. 

“do it again,” you tell him, clenching your thighs together for at least some friction. 

george raises an eyebrow. “that how wanna be treated?” his voice has almost turned into a growl, something so deep and feral, it has you taking him deeper into your mouth, all the way until you gag around him once more. 

“she’s asking so nicely,” matty taunts, breathing harshly between words. 

whatever hold george has on himself snaps at the encouragement. his fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts his hips again, faster than before, harder. and with each thrust you feel more of his control slipping. 

you feel the saliva pooling in your mouth each time his tip hits the back of your throat, feel the burn around your mouth from his thickness. feel the ache between your legs that grows stronger and stronger. 

“oh fucking! shit—” he moans, cutting himself off as you hum around him and hollow your cheeks. your scalp stings from his hold, mixing pain and pleasure, making you hiss each time. 

somewhere in the meantime, matty has walked up to you, completely naked now and so much closer, closer still when he kneels next to you. you whimper, pleading to be touched, even if it’s just a little. matty seems to understand what you want. 

“such a perfect girl,” he coos, words falling carelessly off his lips while he pumps himself slowly. matty waits a moment, then unhooks your bra, letting it fall off you before he grabs one of your tits in his hand, pinching the nipple between his fingers and rolling it until white hot pleasure zings through you. your jaw grows slack and george groans in frustration. 

“did i tell you to stop?” 

you come back to the present, back to matty touching you while he’s touching himself, back to george with the tip of his cock resting on your lips, back to the ache between your legs. 

you take him in deeper as frustration builds in your body, a need for release so strong that you might almost be on the brink of insanity. 

both george and matty pant, their breaths coming out harsher, and even when your jaw aches and saliva dribbles down your chin, george keeps going, fucking your face like your nothing but a blow-up doll to him. 

“good girl,” he grunts between them, “perfect, perfect girl.” and you know it’s not long now, you can feel him twitching inside your mouth, can feel the way his hips buck and his moans grow louder. you hollow your cheeks again, moan again to let the vibration do its job. 

matty moves to stand behind you, breathing loud and almost irregular.

“shit shit shit—” george pants, eyes rolled to the back of his head and jaw slack from pleasure, “gonna cum,” he moans, “gonna cum in your mouth okay?”

you want to say yes, nod, something to let him know how badly you want to taste him, for him to fill up your mouth. 

his entire body tenses in that moment, stomach tightening visibly before you feel the thick, warm cum shoot right into your throat and all the way down. you try to keep up with him, swallowing everything he gives you but some of it dribbles down your chin anyway, mixing in with the drool, making a mess. 

almost exactly a second later, ropes of cum shoot down your back, your spine. matty, reaching his own orgasm. it’s utterly pornographic, the scene—you on your knees with cum dribbling down your chin and your spine. two men staring at you with lust-riddled eyes, in complete and utter awe.

“pretty little mess,” matty sighs softly, as if reading your mind. george still thrusts in your mouth, gentler now as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, his cock leaking with the last drops of cum. 

you keep your mouth open when he pulls out, letting him see his release on your tongue—thick and white and milky. then you turn to matty. “wanna share?”

matty nods, crashing his lips against yours. the moment his tongue slips inside your mouth you moan. he can taste george on your tongue, can taste every drop of his cum you failed to swallow. you bite his lip, enjoying his hiss a little too much. matty lets you though…

he’s too busy digging his fingers in your jaw and your neck, almost squeezing the sides of your throat. it’s not enough to cut off air completely, but it’s enough to make your head spin. 

when matty pulls back, milky release almost coating on his lips, you feel the breath leave you in a whoosh. 

george kneels next to you, hand on your hip. 

“take this off, yeah?” his fingers taps against the waistline of your skirt. “your turn now.”

“touch me,” you whimper, grabbing george’s hand and moving it up your thigh until his fingers are practically at your aching cunt. he stills and looks at you with a grin. 

“matty can help, can’t he?”

“wha—”

“you’ve been so good to us” he whispers right into your ear, nips your earlobe while he’s at it too and you moan just from the thought of it—both their fingers stretching you out, making your see stars, the taste of cum still linger on your lips and you nod, breathless, spreading your legs to bare everything to them. 

“please,” you nod eagerly, letting matty part your legs wider, letting him graze your thigh. george, not one to be outdone, joins in a second later. 

this time when you kiss matty, you make sure to slip your tongue inside, something he seems to enjoy a little too much, and you take advantage of his distraction. 

“like that,” you moan in his mouth and grab his hand, pushing a finger inside and searching for george’s hand right after. 

“want more?” he smirks. his eyes look pitch black, blown out wide and so dark, it sends a thrill down your spine. 

george presses a kiss on your neck again, mouth rough, all teeth and tongue until you’re close to a blackout and grinding on his hand. you feel the stretch when his fingers enter you, right alongside matty’s. their hands work in tandem, pulling out and pushing in, and the burn of the stretch is divine. your eyes close of their own accord, hips undulating, back arched. 

“please d-don’t stop,” you beg, moving your hips faster and faster, matching the thrust of their fingers, “i’ll die if you stop.”

your voice is raspy and rough, like you’ve been screaming unintelligible things for hours. and maybe you have been; your body certainly feels like it, on fire with a current running down your spine every time their fingers push in deeper. 

“won’t” george promises, at least you think it’s him. his voice has morphed into something you barely recognise. but his hand moves faster and faster, thumb circling your clit, and that’s all you seem to care about. 

“ohgodohgodohgod,” you chant like a blind devotee, drunk on them both, pathetic and desperate. matty’s moves, kissing the other side of your neck, teeth over your earlobe and tongue against your collarbone. if tomorrow you woke up covered in hickeys, you won’t regret it one bit.

heat burns hotter in your chest, the bottom of your spine as you clench around their fingers, stretched out and almost at the edge 

“that’s it baby, look at me,” george says. no…it’s almost an order, “look at me when you cum.”

instinctually, you open your eyes, look right at him—at his face that is so close to yours you can practically feel his breath fan your cheek, at his completely dilated pupils and swollen mouth. he kisses you hard and rough, probably tasting himself on your tongue and that tips you over the edge. 

with a cry you cum all over their hands, panting and breathing hard. it’s barely even audible over the rushing blood. 

“fuck—” matty chokes, utterly speechless. you feel no different. 

instead, when matty pulls his hand out, you take a hold of it, place it in your mouth. he makes a sound at the back of his throat—a choked moan like he can’t take it anymore. the moan frees itself when you swirl your tongue around his fingers, licking every inch of them, sucking them clean, not breaking eye contact even once.

you turn to george next, almost expecting him to stick his fingers in your mouth, shoved deep down until you gag around them too but he’s quicker, eager enough to swirl his tongue around them while you and matty watch. 

“at least you’re better at this than tennis,” you mock, earning an eye roll from george and a laugh from matty.

the showers stink of cum and sweat. 

your uniform is probably unusable now. fuck.

with shaky legs you get off the floor, utterly naked, with no idea how to go back outside and how to do your job. 

“shower?” matty asks, utterly nonchalant. 

george looks at you for an answer. oh well… “and a smoke after that,” you add. 

“that’s the plan then,” he agrees and turns the shower on. 

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @indierockgirrl @tonguepiercedanyway75 @if-my-heart-bleeds @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @starvchaser @noacfapologyst @abouttofillhisshoes @tbhnotthatfunny @wrongendofyourcigarettte

add yourself to / remove yourself from the taglist

[pokechbi]

hi love! would you be able to write a request for ghost x psychiatrist!femreader 👀 who works with task force 141 but she spends her sessions with ghost who always ends up fucking her 😈 (highly unprofessional ik but she melts for him )

also i LOVE your work sm, can I be 🧠 anon?🥺

i have risen :3

Got this idea from this lovely anon <33 tysm!!! Much luv to u bb!! Happy to say that I am making this one a continuing story!!! (dw i havent forgotten ab the other ones lol)

Healing Simon (chapter 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

NSFW!! MDNI

Fem reader, fem anatomy used

WC: 1.2K

Enjoy <33

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚

“As for your past, Lieutenant, we’ll be sure to discuss that when you’re ready. If you’re ever ready. Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting to keep it private. Sometimes, there are things we must keep to ourselves no matter what. You don’t owe me, or anyone else an explanation.” You end your sentence calmly, knowing you had the tendency to ramble. Sometimes your clients didn’t need to hear it all at once. It’s how you kept them coming back. How you kept him coming back. 

He looks past your shoulders, out of the window behind you. Your clients had the tendency to do so, since the view from the window was mesmerizing. You folded your legs, gently swinging your leg over the other and feeling the leather of the chair peel away from your thigh. You looked behind you, glancing in the same direction he was looking. The tall trees swayed in the fall wind, moving in unison as if to purposely entrance their observers. You felt weirdly jealous of them at times. They seemed to be more therapeutic to your clients than you were. You keep your eyes on him, hearing his breaths behind his balaclava ever so slightly. Deep, balanced and even. He was stoic in all the right ways, his expression never changing. You look downwards, observing the way his jacket hugs his muscles in all the right places. You take in his broad shoulders and chest, a slight heat simmering at your ears. Your eyes flutter upwards once again, noticing the sliver of skin on his neck peeking out from the gap between his balaclava and his jacket collar. You also notice the slight glint of his dog tag chain shining in the light coming from the window. Looking up at his eyes once again, you almost jump as you realize they’re on you. His stare is heavy, weighing your words back down your throat. 

You smile sweetly, capping your pen and sticking it inside your notebook, setting it on the small end table beside you. 

“Simon, our time is nearly up for today. Went by fast didn’t it?” You ask, trying to stir his attention away from the fact that he just caught you checking him out. You cringe internally, wondering if he’ll bring it up or not. 

“Yeah, it did.” His gruff voice comes out almost a whisper. His accent soft on your ears, his eyes seemingly peeling away at every layer of you each time he looked at you. His eyes flit down to your legs, and back up to your face. You smile at him, your heart doing somersaults in your chest as you fidget with your fingers. He stands suddenly, starting his walk to the door. You stand as well, slowly trailing behind him. The smell of him wafts into your nose. It was intoxicating. Addicting, even. A mix of settled cologne, the familiar scent of his laundry detergent mixing with his musky body odor. The smell of him took you by the throat and forced its way into your subconscious. You craved that smell, the manly, homely smell of him. 

He stops at the door, looking down at you. His height was significantly higher than yours, your head only reaching to his shoulder. You look up at him through your lashes, placing your hand on his back and rubbing ever so slightly. The muscles tense under your touch, but he doesn’t move. Not an inch. Your mind betrays you, the thought of what his skin might feel like under your nails as he split you open races through your head. 

“You did great today, Simon.” You say softly, giving him a reassuring pat on his back. His eyes flit between yours before he starts out of the door again. 

“Same time next week, love?” He asks. He had such a smug way of speaking. Such a smug way of making you weak in the knees without even touching you. And he knew it. You nod at him, smiling sweetly as you shut the door to your office. Placing your back on the door, you run your hands through your hair, hearing his footsteps fade down the hall towards the elevator. 

You walk over to your desk and sit down. The chair creaks under you, the silence of the office driving you insane. Your head raced with thoughts. All about him.

No one in the psychiatry ward had managed to keep consistent appointments with the Lieutenant. He was a hard nut to crack. The hardest you’d ever attempted. You were getting there, slowly but surely. People swarmed you with questions in the office, everywhere you went. 

“What does he talk about?” 

“How come he doesn’t talk with anyone else?”“Does he tell you anything about the missions?” 

“Have you seen his face?” 

“Doesn’t he scare you?” 

“Can you get his number for me?” 

Questions ranged from pure curiosity, to just downright trying to break patient-confidentiality. It pissed you off. They acted as if he were untouchable. Unlovable. All he needed was to be humanized. You couldn’t imagine how tired he was of his reputation around the base. Never being treated as a normal soldier. Not that he was a normal soldier, anyway. He had earned his rep. But you kept that to yourself. 

When his captain showed up in your office, slamming his file on your desk and begging you to make it work, you knew you had to. Price sat across from you, frustrated and scared of losing his best soldier. Not to war, or battle, but to his own mind. Simon had a nasty habit of bottling things up. Letting his thoughts get the best of him and letting them chip away at his sanity until he broke. He holed himself up, letting his trauma dictate who he was not only as a soldier, but as a person.

You hadn’t quite managed to persuade him into unpacking his past just yet. It seemed like an unattainable milestone some days, but others, you came mighty close to it. You spoke to Simon as a friend, not just as his psychiatrist. Each visit, you felt closer and closer to him. To his mind. 

As a professional, you knew it would be wrong to take your relationship outside of the two chairs he came to sit in once a week. You thought about him every time you had a quiet moment to yourself. It was becoming something you couldn’t control. It had gone to stealing glances, to unknowingly checking him out any chance you could get. He’d catch you every time, yet never said anything about it. 

But he kept coming back, right? The thought made your heart leap in your chest. 

[adnauseum11]

Restricted Operating Zone (John Price x Reader)

Kate has a job offer for John.

850 words

CW: swearing, reference to oral sex

Kate considers it lucky that John is about as relaxed as she’s ever seen him, because he’s not going to be pleased when she delivers the lines she’s been asked to say. John’s a pro, surely, he knows how it goes. Kate’s orders aren’t her own half the time, and often not a first choice. 

“You’re looking better every time I see you, John, still having fun in retirement?”

John nods slowly, a flicker of something crossing his face before he replies. 

In a split second he’s called forth an image in his mind’s eye of his love, her leg thrown over his shoulder and fingers tangled in his hair while he knelt before her in the shower. Her head thrown back as she cried out into the steamy room. She had given him shit over making her cum that hard before work, which had made him laugh. She would be back by now, rattling around alone in that drafty, shitty place she was calling home for the moment.  

“Yeah, you could say that.” He plays a card and leans back, observing her. “Any particular reason you mention it?” He may be out of work but his senses are still keen to corporate grade bullshit. 

“We’ve been having issues with an objective-“

“Oh hell –“

“Just hear me out John” Kate’s trying to get a word in edgewise but John’s not entertaining it.

“No, I don’t need to hear what you’re gonna say. The answer is no.”

Kate sighs, knowing it would go this way and yet, she still has a job to do. She presses on, pushing her luck as much as she dares. She waits a few extra beats to play her card – both literally and figuratively - not because she is unsure, but because she needs John to settle. It works and the anger bleeds out of his eyes, replaced with the cold calculating look she’s more intimately familiar with. 

“They’re offering a wildly lucrative contract. It’s a highly sensitive mission, small task force, Gaz is available and will sign on if you do. An intercept and collect. Exfil already lined up. Just need a signature on the dotted line.”

“Laswell, I’m going to get you a hearing aid for your next birthday. No.”

“John, I wasn’t authorized to accept ‘No.’ This needs to happen, or shit gets hairy on a global scale. Hence the price tag. One last job and you can set up shop with your little missus. I’m guessing you two are still seeing each other?”

The mention of John’s love in the same breath as work makes him clench his cards. His focus narrows onto Laswell, and she has the presence of mind to be uncomfortable with his sudden laser focused attention.

“What did you just say?” There’s a very real threat of menace in his tone.

“Hey – ho. This is a friendly card game, folks. Kate, don’t talk shop at the card table.” Kate’s wife attempts to intercede, placing her own cards down and looking from guest to guest with concern. 

Every invited guest around the table has worked with Kate, and understand the implications of the work. None have worked as long or as closely with Kate as John, and even retired he’s a leader. All eyes swing to Kate to see how she will react. 

“I never see him anymore unless it’s here at cards.” Kate says by way of defence, petulant even in the face of a pissed off John Price. “All I’m saying is it would be nice to start a new life with a nest egg, is all. What if she gets sick?” Her tone is innocent but John sees red.

Kate’s wife is shaking her head in warning, but Kate is too bullheaded to take the advice on. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to see you unless we’re playing cards, Kate.” John responds coolly, folding the cards in his hands flat against the table. “I served my time. I’m moving on with my life. Don’t mention her again, that’s a warning.” His big frame is sitting fully upright now, the loose-limb posture he’d been in since he’d arrived evaporating. 

“You’ve got 96 hours to decide John, or the offer disappears.”

“I don’t need any hours to decide, Laswell, ‘cause I won’t be attending your latest clusterfuck. In fact, I’m not going to attend this poker game.” John throws what could have been a winning hand on the table and stands abruptly.   

“John, there’s no need – “ 

Kate’s backpedaling, realizing she’s overstepped far too late. 

“I’ll see you in a few weeks. In the meantime, don’t contact me.” 

John tucks the chair back into place with way more force than necessary, spilling Kate’s drink as it collides with the frame of the table.

“Jesus Christ Kate – “ 

Her wife is wide-eyed, staring at her with disappointment as John yanks his coat from a peg, slamming the door on his way out.

“Shit.” Kate curses, holding her dripping cards up.

“Did that go how you hoped? Maybe listen to your wife next time.”

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos

Next Chapter