#they get forced into the TA roll after this

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

The self indulgent blurb

“Hey, hey! Aizawa!” Shouta paused to turn towards the voice calling. Walking down the hall was the form of Nezu’s secretary, Mathews Vic. A plus size, short person, they had randomly appeared one day blinking behind their glasses in Nezu’s office. Shouta never found out to much about them, given Nezu hoarded their information like a dragon but they'd settled in well as a secretary. “Shit yeah good to catch you!” Mathews beamed. They flicked their braid behind their head, the random pieces of bone in it clinking.

Shouta was ninety percent sure the whole ‘bone in hair’ thing was to mess with people. “Mathews,” Shouta said to them with a nod. They were at work and not in private. Hell, he was outside his classroom on the third day. Probably Mathews's own design on that. They once told Shouts that ‘eavesdropping is essential for a hero student and if they over hear shut they shouldn't it's on them to keep their mouths shut’. Though they did keep the really confidential stuff hidden.

“Glad I caught you! Wanted to talk about two of your students. Midoriya and Bakugou,” Mathews said. Shouta sighed. Of course, those two. Shouta’s first impression had been of a slacker and a kid who'd been told for years that he would end up a villain thanks to his Quirk. It hadn't changed just yet, but something was bugging him about them.

“Whats on your mind?” Shouta asked.

“Well for starters I met Bakugou before. It was a year back and I caught the kid threatening some other kids about ‘not applying to UA cause I'll kill you’. He actually had his Quirk popping in his hands. I stepped in, told him off and moved on. But that kinda thing sticks in your mind you know?” Mathews said. “So when I saw him I was like. Ah! Must look into! And I have for the last bit other than when the Rat God, May he have mercy on our souls, asks me to do other things.”

The cackle coming in from their earpieces, showing Nezu was listening, made Shouta shake his head. The joke kept on going, it was funny enough but Mathews took forever to get to their point like the rat did.

“Anyways so I did further research and looked into teacher comments on Bakugou. Did you?”

“No, I never look at them. Half the time they're garbage with either inflated praise or sabatoge. I look at other things like grades and skill scores.” Shouta said honestly. He'd like to talk to the person who started the rumour he didn't read the files. He wasn't stupid, he just skipped things that often ended up being faked.

“Smart smart, cause Midoriya has the worst load of horseshit I've ever seen. This kid is apparently the most disruptive and unintelligent child, meanwhile he's nearly broke a record on our entrance exam. 90%! Can you believe it?!” Mathews spread their arms out with a grin. Shouta had known that, but figured Mathews and Nezu were just absurdly pleased by a smart kid.

Shuffling came from the classroom they were in front of. Both ignored it as Mathews rambled on. “Bakugou though… that kid has nothing but praise and being called a delight in his files. I was instantly suspicious.”

Shouta was now to. That didn't make sense with his attitude so far. It should have been more like Midoriya’s records then not. Or it would be if he faced Quirk Discrimination like Shouta assumed.

“So I went digging. I know you thought he was a victim of discrimination cause his attitude matched yours as a kid, angry, bitter, willing to scream at people-” Mathews rambled as a loud bang echoed from the classroom before quieting.

We need to work on stealth, Shouta thought to himself.

“So I went back further and dug up some of the social media of their classmates and holy SHIT. Aizawa? That explosive kid is a narcissistic sociopath waiting to happen!” Mathews said in disbelief. “And no this isn't ‘oh Explosive Quirk? You're a villain in the making!’” the high pitched sing-song voice made Shouta shake his head at them. “This is me ACTUALLY wondering cause that kid had used his Quirk on Midoriya multiple times for stupid reasons. Including muttering. I saw DOZENS of videos Shouta, all untagged so we missed them!”

The fact Mathews used his name showed how serious this was. “Vic-” Shouts began but they waved him off.

“Not now. I'm angry. You know the whole ‘hey so this school gets all grades audited’ thing we discovered. It's not because of Bakugou like you thought. It's cause of Midoriya! Cause until the entrance exam he was Quirkless! And they treated him like SHIT FOR IT!” Mathews exploded. “I can't tell you how much shit I went through Shouta, how much BULLSHIT I saw spew from the mouths of students and teachers. And Bakugou was a driving force!” Mathews shook their head, turning away from Shouta to stare at the wall.

He looked at his classroom, wondering why it was so quiet. It felt like a tomb, staring at it.

It was better than thinking on Mathews's words. He didn't WANT to believe it. He didn't want to think that they'd let an bigoted bully into UA. But Mathews rarely lied.

“Fuck, we fucked up.”

“We caught it early,” Mathews said to him, turning away from the wall. “I poked at Midoriya’s file to and he was Quirkless. It changed a week after the exam.”

“False negative? With specific activation?” Shouta asked.

“One option. Some of the videos had the kid freaking scrawny. Makes sense he needed to put on muscle for that Quirk. But like… there's also three other options.” Mathews said. “One, he met someone who can give people Quirks-”

“Like the boogeyman?” Shouta rolled his eyes.

“I met the fuck six years back, he wanted my Quirk,” Mathews said dryly. “I set off a glitter bomb in answer. But you do know there are other people with similar Quirks right? Nothing is unique and I want to point while laughing at any idiot claiming otherwise. Hell there's one with the exact same Quirk in Taiwan. Nice lady, works for the government.” Mathews shrugged at Shouta’s look. “No Quirk is villainous. It's idiots who say so.”

“I know that. I just wonder how you keep meeting these people.” Shouta told them.

“Sheer dumb luck. And also me being nosy as fuck. But anyway, so that's an option except my friend charges big bucks for a Quirk unless you go through the government so she's out and I can't think of anyone else in Japan since Boogeyman either died or went underground… wonder if the glitter… no right back on track. Our second option if a force manifested Quirk.” Mathews looked very uncomfortable saying that. Shouta understood why.

Force manifested Quirks, or FMQ only came about in serious circumstances. The idea Midoriya had one was haunting.

But it explained so much. The darkness in his eyes, the lowered face, the quiet looks he gave. It explained so much.

“Entrance exam?” Shouta asked. Mathews fidgeted. “... Vic?”

“I umm… sent you some videos of the worst bullying and a signed statement from a kid who told me a lot of stuff about Bakugou. Apparently they were friends of a sort? And the kid had a wake up call? It’s not… pretty.” Mathews winced. “But it’s possible Midoriya… tried to take his own life before UA. I don’t know if he did but it’s not good.”

“Fuck,” Shouta covered his face. His classroom was still so silent. Why?

“Which uhh leads me to the last option! A transferable Quirk!” Mathews said.

“...That’s a thing?” Shouta asked.

“Oh yeah I know like three heroes with one, and two non-heroes.” Mathews chriped as they motioned with their hands, trying to avoid the unpleasant conversation they just had. “It’s rareish, but it happens.”

“I see…” Shouta sighed. “Well, thanks for this. I now have to talk to my class who heard everything probably.”

“...Wait, wait… what… oh fuck,” Mathews paled dramatically. “I thought it was after school.”

“... did you forget AGAIN what times people leave school here?”

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: You two can't keep your hands off one another as you come home one night, but a slight problem has you in a pickle: your birth control has just run out and you are all out of condoms. Not to worry, Simon assures you that he will pull out. But as you ride him you begin to question if you really want him to. Will he stick to his promise or will he give in to your need?

Word Count: 4.9 k

Warnings:

Your back bounces into the front door as Simon pins you against it as he is physically unable to wait to get inside before he is on you. The walk from the car to the apartment has already been long enough, you can’t expect him to stay away any longer, especially not after the needy way his hands were on you just moments before. He almost made it till you just had to go and pull him into you by tugging on his belt loops; you should have known that’s all it takes to make his resolve break so that he is unable to hold back his need to devour every inch of you.

It had all started on your way home as it always does when he is out with you and an urge hits that he can’t indulge yet: his hand that was gripped tightly around the top of your inner thigh as he drove began moving up slowly until it reached the inseam of your jeans where he pressed up against it as if he was trying to get a feel of your warmth through the thick fabric. The longer his hand massaged you through your clothes, the worse the ache got and the more he had trouble keeping his gaze from trailing back onto you at every chance until he had to force himself to look back at the road, biting his lower lip to focus on something other than his need to put his mouth on any part of you he could get.  

He did try his hardest to get you both inside before his composure broke, but even as the car came to a stop he knew it was too late. There is only so much he can control, he is a trained professional after all, but this isn’t military business; when it comes to those moments when his desire for you has reached its peak, there is no holding back. 

You are the perfect kind of intoxication and once he has you in his veins there is nothing left but to indulge until he is satisfied.

His mouth dominates your own as his hands cling around your cheeks to keep you completely at his mercy so that he can take you as he likes. It’s not even been five minutes, but he is already panting heavily from the ferocity in the desperate and insatiable way he captures your lips in open-mouthed kisses and the sound of his yearning makes your heart skip. 

“Si,” you moan the shortened version of his name against his lips in between gasped breaths.  

Christ, the way it rolls off your tongue is an aphrodisiac to him and before he can think he is already rock hard and throbbing against your hip. You would think he hadn’t had you in months with the urgency in which he claims your mouth with his until your skin burns from the aggression; the immense intensity in that moment has your knees buckling.   

Your head is spinning with each passing minute as he grunts into your mouth, the feeling of your kiss too good to keep quiet about…but he needs more. Suddenly, his tender lips leave yours stinging as Simon nuzzles across your cheek, eyes closed and moving off of feel alone, and soon his hot breath is at the side of your head as his lips ghost near your jaw before they land. They leave burning kisses in their wake while they travel down towards your neck. 

“Fuck,” he exclaims with that husky tone into your skin, “I need ta feel ya, baby.”

Moving between the contours of your fused bodies his desperate hands locate the button on your jeans and with a bit of struggle, he undoes them. Both of those meaty paws are shoved inside the front before he even gets the zipper down. There’s a hiss on his tongue as his hands fill with all your soft, warm skin just inside your clothes. 

“Gotta get ya inside ‘fore I fuck ya right here ‘gainst the door,” he says in a deep, breathy whisper. 

The ache in his voice makes your skin prickle with anticipation of what’s to come as the vibration from his deep register makes your clit throb. His neediness is overwhelming, worming its way inside your head until you can’t think of anything else outside of the sensation of his touch along your curves, the yearning in his depraved kisses, and the way his words set your soul on fire with passion.   

“I’m sure the neighbors would love that,” you say, quickly followed by a high-pitched moan as he drags the sharp edge of his teeth over that rapidly pounding vein at the side of your neck.

You hold his face tighter against you, forcing him to suck at the spot, his heated, sticky breath moistening your skin as the pressure from his lips leave you in a daze. His calloused hands continue harshly pawing at your body as he situates his knee between your legs up against the door to steady himself and without thinking you take that as an invitation to grind against his thigh to relieve some of the ache that is making you lose your mind.

He can’t stop himself from following your lead and soon you are both greedily humping each other, desperately trying to get as much friction going as possible, not actually caring if anyone catches you two going at it. You can feel his mouth upturn into a smile against your neck. “They’d be so lucky to see me fuck a gorgeous thing like ya, sweetheart,” he growls into the skin.

What’s breathing again? You’ve lost the ability completely after that line. 

Fuck, Simon doesn’t want to take his hands off you, but you have got to get inside and quick or else his little joke might become a reality with the way you two keep grinding on one another. But if he wants to get these clothes off you, and fucking hell does he want to, he’s going to have to open the door.

Under duress, he removes one of his hands from within your pants and searches his pockets for his keys. The jingle of metal clinking together is heard as he pulls them out and flips through the set until his fingers find the one he needs. It takes him several tries to stab the key into the lock, relying strictly on sound and feeling alone to be sure he has it and finally that familiar click hits his ears over the sound of your combined heavy breathing. 

The front door ricochets off the wall behind it as Simon flings it open with a bit too much force before he staggers his way inside with you plastered to his body, his lips feverishly back to capturing yours in their embrace as you enter. He can't get in fast enough; he desperately needs to get you fucking naked and now. 

Grabbing the door with his hand, he slams it closed before making you both tumble to the floor and pinning your body between him and the living room carpet. “Can’t make it,” he groans in agony as if the bedroom is miles away. 

It’s not like your naked body hasn’t felt the fibers of the carpet dig into it before. 

Now that you are safely inside, his lust is unable to be controlled. Just the feeling of you under him has him panting into your open mouth like an animal in heat, barely able to kiss you as it feels so fucking good. He runs those coarse hands over your delicate curves through the opening he’s created in your pants and up under the bottom hem of your shirt over your stomach. 

His groans turn into a bassy whimper as you begin to explore his body as well, fingers running up under his shirt to caress the muscles along his torso up towards his chest, your arms taking his t-shirt with you as you go until it reaches his neck and he lets you pull it off over his head. The skin is pink with the heat from his arousal making his blood run hot like fire through his limbs. Moving up onto his knees he leans on his calves, his head falling back in ecstasy as you glide your touch through the hair that covers his chest and abdomen; just your touch is stimulating enough to have him ready to burst. 

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes as your hand slips lower over those bulging muscles as they ripple, the bliss from your silky touch almost too much to handle. You catch his stare and lock it in your pining gaze as the tips of your fingers slip over his naval and down onto the clasp of his pants and a deep, guttural moan is dragged out of his throat as you skillfully undo it and shove your way inside.   

Your hand brushes against the bulbous tip of his cock and his whole body shudders. “F-fuck,” he gasps under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut and mouth hanging open as your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke up and down within the confines of his pants. It doesn’t take long and he is bucking, rolling his hips to fuck your hand as your fist tightens more around him. The constriction only makes the movement of his hips more feverish as he succumbs to the feeling of the friction. 

He lets you go on until he can feel the first twinges of pressure building inside and that’s when he knows he’s had enough; there is so much more he wants to do to you and if he comes now it’ll all be over too soon. Opening those brown eyes, now with their blown out pupils, he runs his tongue over his dry lips and looks down at you as he removes your hand from around his cock and tugs it out of his pants.

“Come ‘ere to me, pretty girl,” he groans as he drags your hips forward onto his knees so you have to wrap your legs on either side of his wide, bulky torso. “Need these fuckers off.” 

Those girthy fingers hook themselves into the waistband of your jeans, making sure to latch into the top of your panties as well, and with a hard tug he is wrenching them both down off your hips, continuing down the line of your legs. Your body is aching so bad for his touch that everywhere he makes contact against you feels like ecstasy and all you want is more. You pull your legs back to tuck them against your chest so he can rip your pants all the way off and toss them away. 

Your ears pick up the sound of Simon’s sharp inhale as he gets sight of that sweet thing between your thighs. One look is all it takes and the inside of his mouth begins to salivate as he leans over your body to place his raw lips to your abdomen just below your naval as your body squirms under his touch from each warm caress of his mouth. The short, bristly hair that covers his jaw pricks against that overly sensitive skin until your back arches off the ground and you start to whine as it is almost too much for you to take.

“Need ta make ya come,” Simon whispers his feral plea into your stomach. “Need ta hear it, need ta feel it…”

His thought trails off as his lips wander down lower to stop at the sparse hair covering the top of your nude pussy. He pauses for only a few seconds to take it all in; God, he would never get tired of seeing it. But as much as he admires the look of it, there is something he needs even more and he can feel his taste buds tingling across his tongue to get at it.

“Need ta taste it…” he says, frantic and desperate. 

Your brain is so strung out that you haven’t fully comprehended his words as you open your eyes and see Simon repositioning himself, sliding out from under you and moving onto his stomach in between the divide in your legs. With his fingertips gripping into each of your thighs, he pushes them apart and keeps them spread as he immediately dives face first into the gap he has made with a hunger that makes him wildly delirious. 

There’s something you need to remember to tell him, something important pertaining to this exact situation, but the minute his mouth is on those tender lower lips your ability to think is gone. His mouth pin heavy kisses to your petals before his wide tongue flattens against the curve of your pussy and pushes up tight until the pressure causes you to fidgeting your hips against his face. 

Back and forth Simon slips his tongue over you until he pushes through the threshold of your sex and drags it up the length, coming to rest up against that bundle of nerves towards the top. He can feel your heartbeat through the throbbing in your clit and his eyes roll back in his head as he loses himself inside the haze of his passion; if he could live between your legs, he would definitely call it home. 

You are already a little wet and he can taste your arousal in his mouth as he takes the tip of his tongue to roll it delicately over your clit and you squeeze your thighs together around his ears in response to the intense pleasure that one simple movement produces. Keep doing shit like that and he isn’t going to be able to contain himself. 

Simon tries to keep his tongue steady and slow, but the longer he stays buried in your pussy, lapping at you like he’s been starved of it, the harder it is to contain himself. He’s obsessed. Every desperate sound you make, every writhe of your body, makes him greedy for more; he is eager to do whatever it takes to turn you into a complete mess and that means only one thing- overstimulation.

Releasing one of your thighs, he moves his palm to rest under his chin and brings two of his bulky fingers to align them with your entrance. He keeps his tongue on your clit and thrusts the pad against it as he sinks his middle fingers up into you. Those dark eyes dart up over the line of your body to watch your back arch up high off the floor while you cry out in incoherent moans as you are suddenly stretched out from the size of his digits.  

His fingers fill up your pussy as deep, come hither strokes work on your G spot over and over in rhythm until he has your body dripping. The mixture of your juices and his spit from your clit dribbles down into his hand and collects around his chin. This is exactly what he is looking for: the more your wetness gathers on his face, the more feral he becomes until his sanity is gone and only a mindless creature hell bent on ruining you remains. 

No more calm caresses now; he needs this raw and dirty. He wants his face to be slathered in your cum.

Tilting his head to the side, he takes a deep breath. “Rock your hips inta me,” he grunts his hasty demand with his mouth still against you before plunging back in.

Planting your feet firmly onto the floor, you pick up your hips slightly and slowly begin to rut against his face as his fingers curl up inside of you and his tongue continues to tease your clit. The sensation is unlike anything else, riding his face and fingers at the same time. How is this man a master at using every single part of his body? 

Simon hums his praises into you for how good you are at following orders and you can feel the vibration from his lips; that adds something even more magnificent to the equation and soon there is a warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach that you recognize- you are close. 

Your core is clenching around his fingers something fierce, your swollen walls bearing down on him with each thrust of your hips as he laps up the mess you are making to keep it from being wasted on the carpet. As your leg muscles begin to shake near his ears, he knows that you are about to come and his already depleted breathing hitches as he waits to feel it.

“Sh-shit,” you whimper as your nails dig into the carpet. “Gonna come, Si.”

A few more moans and then you fall silent as all that pressure is right at the peak, so close you can almost taste it, and with a few more thrusts of his tongue and buck of your hips and your body contracts as your orgasm tears through you. 

Simon sneaks one gasping breath just as your thighs clamp down rigidly around his ears, blocking him in against you so that he can’t get free until you are finished. The entirety of your high you ride out with him licking, sucking, and fingering until you sink into the floor, breathing through the pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he growls, breathing hard as his face emerges from you with a contented smile on his glistening lips. 

Pushing himself up, he moves back onto his knees in front of you before taking the back of his hand and wiping it across his lips to remove the coating leaking down his chin. “Ready for more?” he smiles.

All at once the thought comes flooding back into your mind through the clarity that getting off has given you, that thing you are supposed to tell him, as he slides the waistband of his jeans down over the curve of his ass and pulls his cock out. Goddamn he is hard, the tip swollen and throbbing with the beat of his heart as he moves in.

Quickly, you stagger up onto your elbows to look at him. “Wait,” you choke out as he slides back up close against you.

“Need a break?” he asks, slightly out of breath still.

You don’t want to stop, God, you want him in you so bad it hurts, but there’s a problem. “Ran outta birth control,” you stammer out. “Do we have any condoms?”

Even in your delirious state you already know the answer; you haven’t bought anything for a while as you had never had any trouble with your pills until now. Simon looks back at you and shakes his head, confirming your suspicions and you fall back down onto your back defeated.

“Don’t wanna stop,” you whine pathetically as you feel him move, thinking that you’ll have to stop, but Simon is quick to crush your fears.

"Listen,” he says as he leans over top of you, cupping your cheek to pull you into a quick kiss as he holds himself up with the other, “I'll be careful. Swear I'll fuckin' pull out."

His cock presses against you as it hangs freely out of his pants. Without thinking he slowly grinds the veiny shaft up against your pussy, his hardness stroking over your clit until your juices are dripping all over it. All that slick, all that warmth, and Simon is losing his goddamn mind, but he won’t put it in, not until you say.

You are already so drunk off the euphoria of your orgasm that there is no way you’re gonna say no to that, not when the need to keep this going for as long as possible is all you want. The more his cock slips between your petals the more you agree with his idea until the only thing left in your hazy mind is the need for him to be inside you- now. 

“Promise?” you ask.

“I swear,” he reassures. “Don’t wanna stop either. Wanna be inside ya too.”

“Okay,” you agree enthusiastically and he gives you one more heated kiss in confirmation. 

Slipping through you a few more times just to be sure he is good and coated, he pulls back and sets the tip right at your opening. “Jus’ breathe,” he groans, digging his fingers into your hips as he sinks the tip of his cock inside and with one fluid thrust he plunges in fully until his cock completely disappears inside.

The fucking stretch of him is sublime, the usual slight discomfort from it near nonexistent as your body is more than ready to take him in. “Yes, yes,” you whimper out as your mind is consumed with the feeling. 

There is no restraint left in Simon to keep him in check; the high he feels from being inside you is too much and he wastes no time in setting a punishing pace. Bulky arms move underneath you to tilt your hips upwards as his hips snap into you with ruthless force until he’s pounding into you so deep his vision blurs and he must resort to sounds to convey his thoughts. 

Each thrust is emphasized with a primal groan from him as both your bodies start to glisten with perspiration from the exertion of the brunt of his desire for you that makes him pound into your dripping hole with fervor. Minutes pass in this hazy ecstasy until he decides that he needs a change of position. As good as you look beneath him, you are a true fantasy when you are on top and he craves that right now. 

“Need ya ta ride me, baby,” he murmurs. “Can ya do that?” 

You nod quickly; as long as he keeps making your body feel this way, you’ll do whatever he wants.

Making sure you are secure in his arms, he pulls out of you only long enough so that he can roll you both over until you are now the one on top. Getting you situated he immediately thrusts back inside and you instantly plant your hands firmly onto his chest, using it as leverage. Pushing down against his chest you begin to bob up and down on your knees as best as you can over the bulk of his body to stick to the relentless pace that he had already set. 

Simon runs his hands up and down your bare thighs as he takes in the view of you perched on top of him: your pretty eyes glazed over, your hair a beautifully disheveled mess hanging down around your face, your tits bouncing in tandem with you beneath your shirt. You are utter perfection as you ride. Those needy hands begin to roam up higher and higher over your stomach, pushing your shirt up as he goes until he can reach your breasts so that he can get at them to play with the nipples to make you whine.

Fucking hell, every inch of you is like a dream. And it’s all his.

It isn’t long before your movements start to get sloppy as the euphoria of it all draws you closer to your second release. This is too much for anyone to handle: you being entirely ravaged by him until you are so desperately lost in the pleasure of it all that you are in a complete state of full body bliss. That familiar pressure at the base of your spine is already building again and as long as you keep this rhythm you will be coming in no time. 

Even as you are lost in it all, ready to finish again, an irrational need creeps into your mind that you have never had before. The thrill of the risk is mind-numbly good, but this new though amplifies all that by ten. What if he didn’t pull out?  

It’s crazy, you know, but something about it just sounds so right. The delicious thought consumes your mind, making your limbs tingle with excitement. Screw the consequences, you can figure it all out later. Why the idea popped in your head in the first place, you don’t know, but now that it is here, you can’t get rid of it. You need Simon to come in you.  

“Don’t… pull…out,” you stammer out shakily. 

Simon’s head pops up. Did he hear that right? No, he must be so far out of his mind that he is not able to comprehend your words right now. “What?” he asks.

Your legs lock around his sides as you continue to bounce in that steady rhythm with no sign of stopping. “Want you…to come… inside me. Please, Si. Need it.”

Oh, God. It’s like a switch that gets flicked on in his brain as you plead with him to fill you up and all at once that absolutely feral part of his brain that has been kept dormant all this time is awakened with a fury.

Fuck, it's all over now. 

There is no possible chance in hell that he isn’t going to give in to that. He's so high off the feeling of you riding him into oblivion that any consequences that may come do not even register. So what if you have an accident? He’s confident that he’d be just fine with that. Shit, he loves you to the moon and back, so it’s not much of a risk in the end if a product of your love just happens to come from this. Right now the risk is worth the reward.

“Fill… me up,” you continue to beg. “Please…almost there.”

His mind is already made up. "Christ,” he groans desperately, “can't say no to that, pretty girl. Want me ta fill ya, that's what your gonna fuckin' get."

His large hands lock tight around your hips to hold them down as he strikes his hips up into your pussy, taking control to slam up into you from below harder and harder. The clenching of his abdominal muscles from each thrust has the sweat dripping over the contours of his chest. You take every last delectable inch he gives you as the room fills with the wet sounds of your bodies slapping against each other. Your mind is all static now, so lost within the bliss of your union that you can’t stand it and he isn’t far behind.

“Don’t stop…Dont’ stop,” you whine, your body shaking as he slams into you over and over again. 

“Never,” he grunts, trying to keep together through the overwhelming pressure gathering deep within him that threatens to throw him over the edge at any moment; you have to come first, that’s his rule. 

That warmth is almost at its peak again, the pressure rising harshly at the base of your spine; just a little more and you’ll be there. You’re barely hanging on by a thread, excited to experience being stuffed full by the only man you ever want to claim you. Fuck, you want him to claim you so bad it hurts.

A few more seconds of his roughness as you are jostled atop him and that is it, like a hot flash of white light you squeal out in unsteady whimpers as your second orgasm tears straight through you with such force you nearly fall off him, but Simon keep you upright. 

Finally he can let himself go. He’s nearly there, just a bit more and he is going to fill you full. A few more ragged, desperate thrust and he is spilling inside of you. A loud groan rips through his chest as he releases all that warm liquid up into you, milking his cock until he has nothing more left as he keeps your hips pinned to his; you had wanted this and he is going to be sure you get everything you want. His hips continue slowly moving against yours as he works you both through your highs for the next couple of minutes until it subsides and he comes to a stop, completely spent. 

“I’ve got ya, I’ve got ya,” he murmurs softly as you fall forward onto him and he cradles you against his burning chest while you continue to whimper faintly as your body shakes with the force of your lingering orgasm. 

Never have you come so hard before and fuck, neither has he.

Simon clings to you, gently rubbing down your back until your breathing calms and your heart stops thudding so violently; only then does he carefully pull out of you and help you move to his side. With nothing to plug you up, you can feel a warm gush that runs down to your thigh, a sticky reminder of what just happened. Simon catches a glimpse of it and it makes his heart thud to see all his milky white cum dripping out of you; the ultimate claim to what is his.

Propping himself up onto his elbow, he lays a heavy arm over top of you and wraps it around your back to pull you tighter into him. “We might ‘ave a problem,” he chuckles as he kisses your heated cheek. 

“What’s that?” you ask exhaustedly.

“Think I just found my favorite thing to do with ya,” he whispers. “And from the way ya just came, I might have ta do it again.”

[reidsdimples]

Feverish- 2

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI‼️

Part 1

Spencer’s inhibitions are still lowered which causes him to escalate things in the shower

You startle awake as Spencer flips over the side of your bed and pukes. You’re still pinned beneath him, his full weight on your legs. So you scrunch your nose and attempt to hold his hair back.

An awful groan escapes him along with a mumbled apology.

“I’m going to move you off of me so I don’t throw up on you and make this worse,” you say gently and help him roll to the other side of the bed.

At least he got into the small trash can you placed there.

Once you dispose of it you return to check on him, the two of you only having been asleep for about four hours. The sun had set and you figured you should attempt to give him more medicine.

Fumbling around in your cabinet you locate some drowsy flu and cold medicine that you didn’t realize you had.

You whip up some soup and grab him a Gatorade before padding back into your bedroom. He’s approached that level if misery where all he can do is lay there and groan in pain. It was awful to watch, Spencer was usually so calm and put together. In the six months you dated, you never saw him sick.

His eyes flutter open when you sit next to him and he pulls himself to a sitting position.

“You have to try to eat something so I can give you the medicine. I put ginger in the soup to help your stomach,” he nods. His hands are shaking so you opt to spoon feed him slowly.

Between bites you feel his forehead to discover he’s still burning up. You frown at him sympathetically. He definitely had the same awful flu you had two weeks ago. No doubt about it.

“Water, the sports drink will dehydrate me more without water in my system,” he says when you try to give him the Gatorade.

“Okay,” you bring his glass of water to his lips and he takes it down greedily. His hands linger on yours against the glass for a moment and he meets your eyes.

“Here,” you hand him the dose of the liquid medicine.

He scoots away from it.

“No pills? I hate the liquid,” he whines.

“No, you have to take this now. I’ll get you the pills tomorrow,” you grab his chin and turn his face back towards the medicine. “Don’t make me force this down your throat. I will,” you threaten.

He knows you’re serious, so he takes it throws it down before chasing it with water.

He only took a few bites of soup but it would have to do.

You help him back under the covers and place a thermometer under his tongue. You needed a true reading to monitor his progress.

“103.2 F,” you tell him. “You’re bad off.”

He nods in agreement.

“Drink this,” you give him orange juice with an immune boosting shot in it. “After this you can go back to sleep,” you promise him.

He looks so tired, so sick, that it makes your heart hurt.

“Stay with me,” he pleads.

“I’m not going anywhere Spence,” you place a hand on his face and brush his hair behind his ear. He gives you a thankful smile. “Just keep your tissues on your side of the bed,” you grimace at his now growing pile.

He smiles softly before groaning like it hurts.

-

He wakes some hours later with at least some clarity in his eyes. He’s on his face when he lifts up to look at you. He smiles sheepishly before groaning and rolling onto his back.

“You smell awful, you were sweating morning your sleep,” you place the book in your lap and look down at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

You make him take his temperature.

“101.8 F, better,” you show him.

He throws his head back on the headboard and runs his hands through his long hair with a sigh.

You look for signs about whether or not he remembers kissing you so desperately the day before. He gives none.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” you pop up.

He doesn’t protest and he’s able to walk, albeit slowly to the bathroom on his own. He sways as if his head spins but he’s able to brush his teeth. You’re grateful for that.

He leans with he’s head on the wall as he scrubs his tongue, clearly getting up is taking a toll on him.

“I made sure it’s not too warm,” you tell him after turning on the shower head.

He looks between you and the shower expectantly.

“What?” You ask.

“Aren’t you going to leave so I can take these off?” He asks, some humor in his tone.

“I’m not leaving you to your own devices. I’ve seen you naked, it’s fine Spencer,” you reason with him.

“But-“

“Not up for debate, you’re not falling and dying in my shower. Now come on,” you tug his arm towards you.

He doesn’t catch himself as quickly as he should be able to and barrels into you. You’re pinned between him and the wall when he places his hands on the wall on either side of your head to stead himself.

His mouth is partially open, he has no choice since he can’t breathe out of his nose. But somehow that mixed with his shirtlessness and messy hair is driving you crazy.

You hook your index fingers into the front of his boxers, pulling him closer to you in an attempt to break his eye contact.

“Lose these and get in the shower, Spence,” you whisper. He nods and obeys.

You move into the shower behind him. He’s leaning on the wall with his arms holding him up, his head dropped between his them as the water flushes all of his hair over his face. You take in the muscles in his lean back, his ass…

Then he turns to you. His eyes are heavy again, his breathing labored. He looks like hell.

You bring a new loofah between you and add soap. He reaches for it but you snatch it away. His eyes can’t help but to move over your wet naked body. You begin to move it over his chest, making slow circles until the soap lathers. You get his arms and move to his stomach. He seems to be getting closer to you.

He grabs your hand with the loofah before you trail down further, his eyes wide. You can see his arousal between his legs despite him feeling terrible.

You let him take the loofah and he turns you around and pulls you close. He wraps his arms around you. His tall lean frame, partially depending on you to keep him standing.

He squeezes out the loofah over your breasts and massages it down between them, his other hand gripping your left tit. His strong arms are wrapped around you as his hands start to cover you in soap. He’s slow and teasing about it.

You can feel his cock pressing upwards against your ass, a small groan escaping him.

You turn to him and make him take a step backward so that the water runs over you both. He watches you, unsure.

You pour more body wash in your hand and place in flat against his stomach, letting it run down over his hardened cock. You push him to lean against the wall. The coldness of the stone causes him to wince but he doesn’t care.

“Ah,” he moans when you wrap your hand around him.

“Would this make you feel better?” You whisper. He swallows hard and nods frantically.

“I need you so bad,” he whimpers.

You pump him slowly, dragging your hand and tightening it around him.

He leans forward on a moan when you speed up, he drops his head to the crook of your neck and begins kissing and sucking on your skin.

It doesn’t slow you down, you tighten and twist your hand just how he likes it until his leaning on you with his hands gripping your ass. The water falls over both of you, heating your body.

He twitches and moans, his knees getting weaker in his sickened state.

“Please,” he whines and takes your face in his hands.

His forehead is against yours as he pants for air.

“Ah,” he groans.

He drops his head to kiss your breasts as his cock begins to pulse. He shudders and you pump him harder until his hot cum is shooting outward. He grips your hips and slowly lowers himself to his knees before you.

He presses his face against your stomach, kissing and moaning, worshiping you. You take in the sight of him. Half out of it, half panting with satisfaction.

Unexpectedly though, he keeps kissing and sucking on your skin until his mouth trails down to your pussy. He looks up at you through the splashing water as if pleading to taste you. You nod.

He’s not gentle about it and he doesn’t take his time. Probably because he feels awful. But you don’t mind.

He leans his face up and burries it into you, his tongue trailing between your folds. He latches onto your pussy and sucks and licks frantically. You push your hands into his hair, spreading your legs to angel him just right.

“Yes baby,” you moan.

This beautiful man on his knees before you looked like a god with his soaked mane of hair. He was breathtaking as his eyes fluttered closed and he devoured you. He moaned into your pussy as he enjoyed feasting on everything you had to offer.

His nails dug into the flesh of your ass, urging you to grind on his face.

You oblige, screaming out at the intense sensation.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant as you ride his face. He continues sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue into your entrance.

It’s so good, your legs start to shake and the world blurs. He doesn’t let up and you think he must be exhausted. But he wants to please you. He’s always been like that.

“Spencer!” You scream as your orgasm ravishes you. Your pussy clenches and pulses as he sucks down your cum. It’s like he’s starving the way he does it.

You try to focus your eyes on him, you can’t believe he just did that.

He pulls his knees out from under him and sits back against the shower wall.

He closes eyes as and you can see them shifting behind his eyelids.

“Are you okay?” You crouch down in front of him.

“Dizzy,” he whispers.

“You shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t have,” you start to apologize. He shushes you.

“Don’t say that,” he urges weakly and shivers.

“Oh Spence,” you feel so bad. You weren’t even thinking. Clearly he wasn’t either.

You wrap a bath towel around him and help him up.

Once he’s dried off you get him back into bed and add an extra layer of blankets. Even in his sickened daze his eyes follow you around the room because you’re still naked.

“Here,” you make him take the medicine he hates along with a fever reducer.

“No more of that,” you gesture at the bathroom.

“What about when I’m better?” He grins. Your cheeks turn red and you can’t help but to smile.

“Just sleep, Spencer,” you lean over and kiss his forehead.

[pinkanonwrites]

"Oh! That's What That Does?!"

All art by @archie-sunshine

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 2400+ Words NSFW, Valveplug, Plug 'N Play, Mild Sparkplay, Accidental Stimulation, Edging, Human Reader, GN Pronouns

Ahh, the inherent eroticism of repairing your machine.~ I've had this one cooking for a while, so I hope you all enjoy! I've also gotten pretty attached to this mechanic Reader, so they'll likely pop up again with other cassettes (and maybe even some other Decepticons!)

NSFW WRITING AND IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT!

“Ey… EY! Careful wit’ dat! It’s touchy!”

“Rumble,” You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You're making this way more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I wouldn't be complainin’ if you'd stop touchin’ all up on bits that don't gotta be touched! Rootin’ around in there like I'm one’a your crappy organic machines!”

Removing your hands from Rumble’s open chest, you tossed them roughly into the air. “Y'know what? Fine. Do it yourself. Better yet, get Frenzy to pull the shrapnel out of your chest. That'll go great.”

You would have slid off of Rumble’s lap and stormed off, if not for his massive servos closing around your wrists with an unexpected delicacy. Your efforts to remove your hands only reinforced his grip, using just enough force to keep you from leaving without crushing your wrists entirely.

“H-Hey, no need ta be so hasty! Look, I’m just steamed cause'a the battle, dat’s all. Frenz’ can't do dis, it's gotta be someone more… dainty. Y’know. Little human hands and all dat.” The harsh glow of his visor had dulled slightly as his gaze cast down to your hands. You rolled your eyes, wrists finally slipping from his grip as you settled back in. 

Dangling wires and sparking shrapnel dotted his open chest cavity, illuminated by the light of his spark chamber. Rumble had staggered off-balance into your workshop whining about the prodding pieces of broken metal keeping him from transforming properly, yet you’d barely managed to get two wires back in place before he started squirming and whingeing and slinging verbal abuse at you.

 Not that you weren't used to it, any interactions with Rumble and Frenzy usually involved some level of bullying. Fortunately, the two cassettes are also incredibly predictable. As soon as you would threaten to take away or withhold what they're asking for, they’d start falling all over themselves with apologies and placations. After all, you may not have been the only mechanic in the area, but you were certainly their favorite.

“Are you going to actually let me work? Or are you going to start yelling at me again?”

“Yellin’? Who's yellin’? Yer the mechanic here, my spark is in your squishy little hands. Do your magic, doc.” He sat back again, servos clutching the edges of your workbench in a show of effort, a genuine attempt to keep them still (or however genuine any show of rule-following from Rumble could be.)

“That's what I thought. Now let me actually fix a few things before you start whining again.” Your gloved hands dipped back into his chest cavity, skirting the edges of his spark chamber to pick away at the bits of loose shrapnel stuck in some of the wires. His frame shuddered, a hiss of steam escaping through his dentae as your knuckles brushed the underside of the spark casing.

“C-Careful,” He said again, with significantly less bite to his tone.

“Does it hurt?”

“Somethin’ like dat.”

“I'll be careful, so let me know if it gets to be too much.” You smoothed a palm down the armor covering his stomach, flinching back when you heard another sharp hiss of steam.

“I’m fine! It's fine! Just… do ya gotta be all on top’a me like dis?”

“I can't reach properly if you're laying down. If you're standing you might keel over on me, and I really don't feel like being squished to death today.” He let out a low grumble as you jacked another cable back into its proper port. “I'll try to be quick, that way you won't have to worry about my ‘human germs’ and you can get outta here. Deal?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-”

“Be careful. I know.”

And with that you went to work, separating and organizing cables, taping off leaky tubing and removing pieces of scrap metal as gently as you could. Every once in a while Rumble would jerk or twitch beneath your touch, letting out a muffled curse or huff but sparing you from his usual complaints. It was… uncharacteristically quiet, for sure. This was the most extensive repair you'd ever done on him, though, so maybe he was just having surgery jitters.

“Okay, I've gotten most of the shrapnel out. But there's a piece right behind your spark casing.”

“Well? Get it outta there!”

“I'm going to, but I need to get my whole hand in there. I'm warning you now because it's going to be bumping up against your spark casing a lot. I'm going to do my best but you have to tell me if it hurts too much.”

Rumble let out a long, pathetic groan. “Actually doc, maybe you can just leave dat one in there? F-For funsies?”

“Eh?! Rumble, I’m not gonna just ‘leave it in there’! It's gotta come out.”

“Something's gonna come out if you keep proddin’ around in there like dat…”

“What was that?”

“Gh! Nothin’! Don't worry ‘bout it!”

“...Okay. I’m gonna start now. Are you ready?” Rumble only responded with gritted dentae and a tense nod. Working your gloved hand under his spark chamber, you could feel the ambient energy making the hairs on your arm stand on end as you felt for the jagged edge of broken metal. Your glove blocked your view entirely, so you were left blindly groping your way up the metal surface, feeling for anything bent or out of place. When your fingers could no longer reach any further while still avoiding the casing, you slid forward and ducked slightly into Rumble’s open chest, the back of your hand pressing up against the underside of his spark chamber.

CLANG!

You jumped, and if it weren't for Rumble’s arm wrapping around you and almost crushing you into his open chest you may have jostled the sensitive chamber even further. You slid your hand back again, easing off of the reinforced glass, and his grip receded.

“What the hell was that? And what was that clang?”

“I said don't worry ‘bout it!” He hissed, voice glitchy with static. “Everythin’s totally normal, I dunno why you're getting all jumpy ‘bout- MMNGH?!” You moved your hand up again into the same position, and Rumble let out an embarrassingly high whimper. You glanced up at his face, a flush of pink behind the usual grey and beading with coolant… and something clicked.

“Oh my God are you getting off on this?”

“N-No!”

Behind you you heard a sharp snikt, and the sound of pressurizing hydraulics.

“...Maybe?”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“H-Hey, don't go gettin’ a big head or nothin’! A bot’s spark chamber is sensitive! Don't go thinkin’ this is cause of your squishy frame or your soft little digits or nothin’!” He seemed to almost shrink in on himself, face plate practically glowing as his shoulders pulled up around his helm. You'd never say it to his face, but he looked surprisingly… small, at this moment. You heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I'm going to get this last piece out, alright? It's the last one. And whatever happens while I'm doing that..? It just happens. We won't bring it up again, no need to be embarrassed. Deal?”

“‘Deal?!?’” He squawked, positively scandalized. “How do I know yer not gonna gossip with Frenz’ the next time he's in for a tune-up?”

“Well Frenzy usually never lets me get a word in edgewise, first of all.” You huffed. This was way more than you'd signed up for. “I'm not going to make fun of you, Rumble. Let’s just get you patched up, then you can head home. Okay?”

His mouth was pulled into a tight, wobbly frown as he glanced down at you, choking out a single word. “...Promise?”

“I promise.”

“...Slag. alright, let's get dis over with.” He lolled his head back against the table with a clank, resigning himself to his fate. This time, when your knuckles brushed his spark casing, he couldn’t stifle his soft moan. Your fingers felt further and further up, until almost your entire hand was behind the glass bubble containing his pulsing spark. Finally, you could feel the jagged piece of metal. You wrapped your fingers around it and gave it an experimental tug. It stuck fast, and your hand bumping against Rumble's spark only pulled another surprised moan from him.

“W-Watch it!” He yelped, sounding too fucked-out to come across as actually threatening.

“It's really stuck in there. I'm going to start working it out, so let me know if you need me to stop.”

“Wh… workin’ it out? Whadda ya- ohhh…~” 

With your thumb and forefinger gripping the edge of the broken metal, you began to wiggle it gently back and forth to ease it from the plating and wires around it. Each time you moved the back of your hand rubbed up against the far side of his spark chamber, warmth radiating through your glove as Rumble started to vent more harshly.

“Slag… slag! Don't think it's ever been touched back there before. Feels… feels crazy.” He moaned. The metal of your work table shrieked and crumpled like cardboard under his iron grip, desperate to keep his servos off of himself or, Primus forbid, you. The piece stuck firm, and as you braced your other hand against the outside paneling of his chest to readjust your balance he let out a sharp, staticky yelp. “S-STOP!”

You froze immediately. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

A few shuddering vents were your only response for a moment, Rumble’s visor lights flickering frantically as he tried to steady himself. “Whooo… Almost blew my top for a second there.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Yer the one that told me to tell ya if I need ya to stop! I'll be slagged to the Pit before I let some ‘squishy’ run my charge like dat.”

“...Can I start again? I’m making some progress here.”

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Yer good.”

You let out another soft sigh, trying to focus on the rhythmic sktch sktch sktch of metal on metal rather than Rumble’s shivering whines. His vocalizer pitched and warbled with static, attempts to stifle his own words slowly giving way to a deluge of fucked-out babbles.

“Ah! Gh! Ohh, mmnh, stupid little hands feelin’ all- nnh!~ Jus’ get it outta there! Please?”

I’m working on it. You’re doing good, just hang in there.” Your placations only resulted in another desperate moan. After what couldn’t have been more than another thirty seconds or so, he blurted out again.

“Ah! Stop!”

You retracted your hand for a moment, letting Rumble gasp for breath above you in a futile attempt to cool his core. You rubbed at his chest paneling as he shivered beneath you hard enough that you thought bolts were going to start coming undone. Even the paneling you were seated upon was burning up, heat seeping through the fabric of your coveralls. His glowing face plate was slick with coolant. Without thinking, you reached up and swept away a bead of it with your thumb, making him jump.

“H-Hey, quit dat…” He groaned, all bite lost from his tone.

“Rumble… The more you keep stopping me the longer this is going to take.”

“You think I don’t know dat?!” One of his arms draped dramatically over his face. “I’m tryin’! But you just keep pokin’ around in there and it’s all touchy and it’s makin’ me feel like my spike’s gonna burst and I can’t take it anymore!” He sniffled. Could Cybertronians even sniffle? You weren’t sure, but he sounded close to tears.

“Rumble… Have you ever actually edged yourself before?”

“Whu- Whuh? How’s dat any of yer business?”

“I’m just thinking…” You ran a placating hand down his shivering plating. “If you haven’t it can be really overwhelming, and-”

“I can handle it! I-I can!”

“Let me finish. It can be really overwhelming, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself further. Just… take a deep breath for me, okay?” You took a slow, steadying breath, and after a second he mimicked it. “Good. Just think about letting go, okay? I’m not going to judge you. Just think about it.”

He let out a low, pitying grumble, peeking at you from behind his arm plating. “...You can start again.”

Once again, your hands dipped into his chest cavity. Only this time you slid both hands up behind his spark casing, gripping as much of the broken metal as you could reach. As you rocked it back and forth Rumble’s moans returned with a fervor, one servo finally flying to cup your lower back.

“Ah! Ah! Slag, oh slag please! Please don’t stop I’m so fraggin’ close.” He fisted the back of your uniform, crumpling the cheap fabric between his digits. “C’mon, c’mon c’mon c’mon I need it!”

“Shh, I’ve got you baby. Just let it happen.”

With a metallic shriek and a gush of brackish oil the shrapnel popped free, the force enough to send you sprawling if not for Rumble’s servo in the small of your back. Of course, said unexpected force also slammed the backs of both your hands right into the underside of his spark chamber, and Rumble’s voice box screeched into a wail of radio static. Something hot and sticky splattered up the back of your coveralls; said something you decidedly were not going to look at until later. His frame rattled and shivered beneath you, steam venting and joints glitching and spark pulsating a near-blinding glow.  Finally, after a burst of noise and sparks and twitching, he went slack beneath you, helm clanking against the workbench as his optics flickered.

As delicately as you could, you removed the oil-slick shrapnel and let it clatter onto the floor before shedding your gloves and dabbing at his face plate with the cuff of your sleeve. With the whir of an old monitor blipping back to life, his visor blinked back up to its standard brightness.

“Whuh… Wheh?” He garbled.

“How you feeling, hun?”

“Like I got struck by lightnin’... but in like a nasty way.”

You choked back a snort. “Well, I’ve got all the worst of it over with. Feel free to rest for a while if you need it. I’m gonna go change my jumpsuit.” 

He let you slide off his lap without a fight, not even commenting until you’d turned around to make your way over to your office. Only then did he let out a low, salacious whistle when he’d finally caught sight of the back of your uniform.

“Comm me next time yer free, doc. Then I can repay da favor.”

[entitled-fangirl]

Manhood. (P2)

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT

Summary: it's the morning after they consummated their marriage.

Part 1

Masterlist

A/n: Dare I say this could even have a part 3 cause I still have ideas for it???

.................................

The next morning, she was the one to wake up first. 

She yawned and stretched, the light from outside barely lighting up the room, signifying that it was still too early to begin the day.

She turned to Cregan who still laid fast asleep. His hair was a mess, a reminder of what they had done the night before.

Only then did she feel the dull ache between her legs. 

She sighed lightly and shuffled closer to the man. She gently brushed her lips against his. 

She let out a surprised squeak when Cregan kissed her back. 

The woman pulled away to see Cregan's lips pull into a wide grin, his eyes still closed. 

"Cregan…." She lightly reprimanded.

A soft chuckled rose from his throat and his arm reached out blindly until it found her waist and he pulled her as close to him as he could. "You'll have to forgive me, my love," he huskily whispered into her ear, "I'm only now recalling our late night adventure."

She hummed lightly, her cheek against his throat, "You recall it fondly, I hope?"

His grip on her waist tightened, "Very fondly."

She giggled and began to kiss his jaw.

He let out a small groan as the rest of his body began to stir awake at her touch and he finally opened his eyes, "So eager to go again?"

"I'd never leave this bed if we didn't have to," she admitted as she nipped at his ear. 

He pulled his head away to look at her, "we've a few hours at least. Let us use them wisely."

"You've grown rather bold overnight, my lord husband," she teased. "What happened to the meek man I slept with only yesterday?"

He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "He now knows how pleasureful laying with his wife can be, and he's eager for more."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, "Is that so?"

His eyes took in her flushed state, "Only if you'll have me."

She was taken aback by his words, only to have it grow a boldness within her, "Gods, I'll have you in every lifetime, Cregan Stark."

He brushed his lips against hers, and the kiss grew hungry. 

Cregan reached down below the blankets with a steady hand and she gasps when his fingers brush against his clit. 

She pushed her upper body away from him, "Evil man…"

His thumb continued its movement against her, "Tell me what you want."

She swung a leg over his body and she forced herself on top of him. His grin only widened as she did so.

Once comfortable, Cregan began his movements again. She let out a curse under her breath at the feeling.

His other hand found her waist, rubbing soothing circles against her skin. "Taking me like this, sweet woman?"

"I intend to try," she finally admitted as she willed herself to do so.

She reached down and lined his thick cock up to her body, and began to lower her hips.

She lets out a small whimper and the new sensation, "It's too much. It's too much… I can't…"

The hands on Cregan's chest are trembling even though they don't hold any of her weight.

She's never been on top before, and it's getting to her.

Cregan reaches up and grabs her jaw, pulling her face down to his gently. His voice was a calm reassurance,"It's not. Look at me."

He waits until she does, "You know you can take it. You've taken it before. You're just panicking. Take a breath."

He watches her chest expand and contrast with a shaky breath. 

"Do it again."

He makes her continue this until he can feel her walls relax around him. 

"Good. You're doing good, sweet girl."

His hands go to her hips and gently push her further down on him more.

This time a moan leaves her lips instead. "Oh, gods…"

A string of groans leaves Cregan's lips when she begins to roll her hips. 

Judging by the confidence she just gained, they'll be doing this position more often.

"You complete me, my girl," he finally moans out as his hand moves to her clit again. 

The two move in tandem, as if they were truly made for one another. 

Completely drunk on pleasure, she lowers her upper body to his, desperately trying to capture his lips with hers.

He is quick to give in, letting her take anything she wanted. 

The kiss is messy and unorganized, gasps and moans interrupting it consistently, but the two didn't care. 

This new feeling was worth it.

"Only one w…" Cregan let out a stiff whine when she rolled her hips just right, "w… one woman for me, and it's you… gods, it's you."

He didn't last long, and neither did she, the two making a mess of the furs on their bedspread. 

She collapsed onto him, not bothering to pull herself off of him completely. He brushed a hand up and down her back comfortingly.

Once the two caught their breath, she interrupted the silence. "We still have time…"

......................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[jwhitewolfbarnes]

You just wanted to rile him up. Make him ache a little, stop giving in so easily. Show him that his pouty face with those baby blues isn’t all powerful like he thinks it is. You’re starting to regret that a tiny bit.

“Right there, John,” you breathe out as he pumps his hips into yours at a steady pace. His reaction is immediate; his hand comes up to grasp at your throat- applying firm, delicious pressure. He forces you to look in his eyes, “Stop fucking calling me that.” Each word punctuated with a sharp, brutal thrust as he moves your legs higher up on his hips. Your mouth drops open in reaction to his bed-shaking movements. “C’mon pretty girl, ya know what I want to hear. Say it, c’mon baby,” he pants out, staring right into your wide eyed face.

Regret may have started to set in, but it hasn’t fully won you over. Another approach, maybe?

“ah fuck Johnny, feels so good,” you manage to stutter out as he continues his punishing pace. His eyes flash with something and you think you might have won this round… until he stops. He moves to pull out, but you snap your legs around his waist before he can make it out all the way. “no, no, no! please Johnny, I’m so close. Please don’t stop baby.”

He chuckles as he drops his hand from your throat and leans down to press his body almost completely against yours. He kisses you, such a filthy and desperate display. “oh, I’m sorry baby… ya close?” His voice is sickeningly sweet as he mocks you, “if ya knew how to act right, I’d give ya exactly what this pussy needs. but yer being a fuckin brat. I just want one thing from ya, thas it. Ya need ma cock so bad, yeah? Say it an I’ll give ‘im back.” He pulls back, pushing your legs off of his waist with an ounce of his obvious strength. His dick slips all the way out as he grits his teeth and you whine. He maneuvers your legs up, hooking one into the crook of his elbow and stretching it outwards. Those fucking blue eyes, clouded over with lust, roam over your entire body. He smacks the tip of his dick on your clit a few times, before smiling cruelly up at you.

“One word an I’ll fill ya up just like ya need. Only good girls get ta cum, wan’ be a good girl? What’s ma name?” Tears are slipping from your eyes from where you’ve been forced away from the cliff of your orgasm. This is decision time, give in to that pretty face and get fucked within an inch of your life? Or say nothing and be forced to watch him jerk off on your stomach before leaving you without orgasm? Pride be damned.

You take in a shuddering breath, reaching up to card your fingers through his shaggy mohawk. You drag him close enough to kiss, and he comes willingly because he knows the battle is over, victory is his. He grins devilishly, knowing his prize is right on the horizon. You brush your lips against his before locking eyes with him and practically purr out the magic words.

“Please make me cum, daddy.” Before you can even blink, he’s fully sheathed inside you. He’s gripping the fat of your thigh and stomach by the handful. Nonsensical praise and filthy dirty talk pour out of him as he watches every last jiggle of your body’s reaction to him fucking you. He may think he’s won this battle, and sure the round may be a point for John, but you also got exactly what you wanted.

Later after he’s thoroughly fucked you, and himself, into exhaustion, you lie there tucked into his side contemplating the best method of revenge. John is blissfully ignorant to your scheming mind as he runs his fingers delicately along the ridges and rolls of your back. He presses loving kisses into your hairline, content to spend the rest of his night tucked impossibly close to your plush body. Glancing up at his unfairly attractive face, an idea forms as your eyes roam the column of his love-bitten neck… seems it might be time to see how potent John’s power is when he’s finally put on a short leash…

a/n: sorry for the poor attempt at a scottish accent :/

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter Three - Smoke and Whiskey

<< First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco, cannabis), plus-sized reader, female reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me.

~3.2k

When you go back inside, you wind up wedged between John and Ghost on the bigger couch. Johnny’s stretched out on the smaller one, and Gaz claimed the chair that you’d been sitting in earlier, leaving you with no other option. Neither of them makes any effort to give you more space, even though they could. Ghost’s leg is pressed against yours from thigh to ankle, and John’s pinky finger keeps finding your thigh when he rests his tumbler against his knee. You want to curl up properly, tuck your feet up underneath yourself, but you can't without pressing even closer to at least one of them. At least Ghost isn’t quite as intimidating without his mask on.

After a while, Gaz and Ghost go out for a cigarette. The chair looks inviting, and you’d like to get a little space, but Price’s arm drops around your shoulders casually, pulling you in a little closer to his side. “Relax,” he says against the top of your head. “You’re alright, doll.”

The door opens again. “Soap, we’ve got a spliff, you want?” Gaz asks.

Johnny picks himself off the other couch, grinning. “Aye. An’ then cake?”

“Fuckin’ forgot about cake,” Ghost says. “Hey doll, d’you want some of this? Cap?”

“Who rolled it?” John asks. “Because I’m not smoking one of Gaz’s joints ever again.”

“Oh fuck off, Price, I can roll just fine.”

John looks at you and shakes his head slightly. “He really can’t.”

“I can roll,” you say. “I always do with my friends.”

You can see the calculation running behind John's eyes as he adds new information to what he knows and assumes about you. You want to laugh. You almost do. Most people take one look at you, with your big doe eyes and round face and and sunny disposition and think that you're some innocent little thing. Sure, you tend to live life with your arms open, and that might come across as naive to some, but you're not inexperienced by any means. You're nearly thirty years old, you're by no means a child.

"Let's see, then," he says. "Box on the coffee table has everything."

"Does tha' mean we can smoke inside again?" Soap asks. "It's startin' ta get pure Baltic out here."

John looks at you expectantly. "Up to you, doll."

"It's not my house."

He hums. "You're stayin' a while. Might as well be. It's important that you're comfortable."

You slide to the floor and reach for the box. "Well. You'd better open a window or two. But I don't mind."

Making a fuss over the semantics isn't worth doing. You probably are staying a while. Even if John really won't force you, you'll still need his cooperation to get all your stuff loaded back into the van, and all four of them are likely headed for hangovers.

John tells them to open the windows, and leans forward to watch you break up slightly sticky buds into the grinder. He brushes your hair behind your shoulders for you, and when you tip your head back to look at him, there's something in his eyes that makes your ears warm.

Johnny drops down to the floor on the other side of the table, a crumpled looking joint hanging out of his mouth. You can see what John means about not wanting to smoke it.

"You want a drink, doll?" Gaz asks. "More tea?"

You twist to look at him, hanging over the back of the couch, that handsome face smiling. "Have you got pop? Wouldn't mind a ginger ale."

"Got irn bru too," Soap suggests. "Ye've got some Scot in ye, aye?"

"Yes."

"Didja want more?"

You level an unimpressed look at him across the table. "I should've seen that one coming."

"I'd like to see ye com--"

"That'll do, Soap," John says firmly. "She's not goin' to have sex with you."

"Might feel a bit better if she did," Soap says, shrugging. "Ah'm just sayin'."

"You're not saying anything." Gaz sets an unopened can of ginger ale on the table next to you. "If you're gagging for it, we'll take care of you in a bit."

"And if you don't behave yourself you're not goin' to get anything," John rumbles from behind you. "She's been good. Surprised none of you have been slapped."

"Just the once." Gaz snags the joint from Johnny and sits back in the chair.

Ghost snorts. "What did you do?"

"Surprised her picking her up. My own fault."

You lean back and hold up the neat joint you've been rolling, hooking your arm over John's knee. He sets his whiskey to the side and takes it, holding it up for an inspection. "Nice work, doll," he says warmly. “Got a bit of a wild streak to you, eh?”

The praise makes you glow, despite yourself, and you laugh aloud at the second part, a real laugh, not nervous or bitter. All four of them shift their attention to you at the sound, snapping a tension you hadn’t noticed until you felt it’s absence. It’s important to them that you feel comfortable, and your genuine laughter is the first sign that you’re on your way. They really did think that they’d done you a favour.

Insane. But almost sweet, in a fucked up, unsettling way.

You pluck the joint out of John’s fingers and meet his dark blue eyes evenly, not missing the hunger that sparks into existence. “Got a light?”

John pulls his lighter out of his pocket, a little awkward with you leaning on his other leg, and holds the dancing flame out for you. You have to lean in a little to get to it, so you do, your eyes still locked on his as you inhale, the slight sizzle of paper and weed igniting clear in the otherwise silent room. You can hear the way his breath catches too, taken by surprise yet again. You offer the joint back to him, holding in a lungful of smoke.

“Shite,” Johnny hisses, breaking the heavy silence. “Yer absolutely sure ye dinnae want your cunt licked?”

You blow smoke at him from across the coffee table. “I’m sure.”

It doesn’t take long before drowsy complacency overtakes you. Curling up against John’s leg, your arm still hooked over his leg, you let conversation wash over your awareness, not paying enough attention to pick out one thing or another. John’s hand settles on your head, fingers threading into your dark hair, combing through soft strands idly. When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, blue eyes half-lidded but still plenty aware, a funny smile twisting the edges of his mouth upwards. He has nice lips under that bristling moustache of his, not as thin as you would have expected. His voice is a pleasant rumble when he speaks to the others,

He takes a sip of whiskey, and you follow the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way the tip of his tongue darting across his lips. It takes a moment for you to realize that he’s watching you study him.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

For the first time since you’ve been there, you don���t feel scared. Just dozy and content, like a cat curled up next to a fireplace. “I’m alright,” you admit. “It’s been a strange day.”

His fingers flex, not quite gripping your hair, just holding you in place with the lightest pressure, encouraging you to keep facing him rather than turning away. “I imagine so.” His hand glides along to your ear, his thumb grazing over the shell, sending shivers down your spine. “It won’t be so strange tomorrow.”

“No more surprises planned?”

John glances up, looking at each of his men in turn, and then back to you. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“We do have cake, though,” Soap says. “Ye want some, bonnie?”

“Yes please.” You only turn to look at Soap for a moment before John is gently coaxing you back, curling his fingers around your jaw. Can he feel the way your heart leaps into your throat, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings? It’s hard to look John in the eye, but harder still to pull yourself away. His touch leaves burning traces behind, and you’re all too aware of your body and the way you respond to him. It’s all too much, too soon and too strange.

He catches your hand when you try to brush his away. “Why don’t you come on back up here, doll?” he asks. “Be more comfortable than the floor, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m happy down here.” You tuck your knees to your chest, looping your arms around your legs, extricating yourself from his sphere of influence just a little. You’re still pressed up against his calf, but you don’t need to go that far, you just need to face forward so you won’t get pinned under that blue stare again.

John has a certain gravity, a magnetism that you can’t help but be drawn in by. It would be all too easy to sink into his arms, but the idea that you’d been given to him still bothers you, like a persistent, sharp little stone in your shoe, ruining what might have been something.

You perk up some when Soap hands you a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it. It's not the prettiest thing you've ever seen, but it tastes incredible, rich dark chocolate and an icing that had so much whiskey in it that your teeth feel funny after a few bites.

"This is really good, Johnny," you tell him. "If the whole military thing doesn't work out, you could consider becoming a baker."

"Thanks, hen. And dinnae think I havena considered it. Gettin' closer to packin' it in awl the time. Just cannae leave Gaz until he's got a good team watchin' his back."

"We've got some good sergeants," Gaz says. "Nitro's got real promise."

"Shivs too. Little devil," Ghost adds. "You need a door smasher though. Those girls are tough as 'ell, but some occasions call for a big boot."

"Aye, ye'd say that, bein' the biggest fuckin' boot the Queen's army has ever seen."

"King now," John points out.

"Oh, fuck if I care which poncy arsed Windsor is sittin' in the big chair."

"Bloody leeches," Ghost agrees.

"I've got Sanderson in mind." Gaz winks at you, like you're in on some secret.

"Gary Sanderson? Is he no' dead?"

"No! Turns out he locked himself in a cryo chamber when the bomb went off. That facility was full of 'em, all kinds of experimental tech. It was finally safe to take a team in and we found him. Nitro started calling him Roach, and it's stuck."

"He's a damn good soldier. Be good for the taskforce," Price agrees. "Would've picked him ten years ago."

"Well, he's had a nice long nap, and he's hopping mad about missing so much. He'll make a good doorsmasher," Gaz says.

"How about that Lucky kid? Nitro’s brother.” Price asks. “He looked pretty promising. Unless his luck ran out.”

Gaz hums, licking frosting off his fork. “He’s a good kid, but his problem is that as soon as Nitro’s around he lets her do all his thinking for him. Splits her focus.”

You sigh, setting your half-finished slice of cake down on the table in front of you, and climb to your feet, wincing at the ache of not moving for so long. You edge between Ghost’s knees and the coffee table and skirt around the edge of the couch wordlessly. No one stops you, and there’s no falter to their conversation despite the eyes that follow you until you disappear upstairs to use the washroom.

As you wash your hands, you stare at your own face in the mirror. You look pretty, even with your eyeliner a little smudged, and your lipstick faded to nothing. The buzz of THC is your system makes you giggle. Pretty enough to kidnap, even.

You think about it for a long moment, and then take your makeup off and braid your hair back so you can wash your face properly, and brush your teeth too. All the weirdness of the day is catching up, and all you want to do is sleep it off. The low buzz of their voices carries up the stairs when you step out into the hallway again, seemingly unbothered by your absence. There's no reason for you to say goodnight-- you don't owe them any kind of civility. But you still hesitate.

Long enough that John appears at the bottom of the stairs. "You alright, doll?" He asks. "Comin' back down?" The stairs creak slightly under his weight as he starts coming up towards you.

"I was thinking-- I'm just tired, is all. It's been a long day."

He stops two steps down, so he's still looking up at you. "I understand. We can talk more in the morning."

"I'm sure there's a lot to discuss."

"If you say so. Already told you most of what I needed to tell."

"Just most?"

He nods, and beckons you closer, a conspiratorial smile on his face. You take one halting step toward him, and then another, until you stand right at the top of the stairs. His big hands catch yours, holding you in place when he moves one step up, taller than you once more.

You stare up at him, and your breathing is turned shallow, your heartbeat rapid and heady. His eyes glitter in the dim light as he leans close, the tip of his nose skimming yours, as if he means to kiss you. Like a deer pinned under the headlights of a rapidly approaching truck, you stand frozen, unsure if you even want to move, or if you welcome the inevitable collision.

He smells like smoke and whiskey when he speaks, his lips so close to yours you can feel the soft brush of breath on your skin. "Forgot to tell you how good you look in my shirt," he purrs. "Been thinkin' to say so all night."

Heat licks across your cheeks, his words waking something dangerous in your core, something that wants his hands on you more than anything else. It’s unfair, what he does to you already, barely more than a stranger, and you want him to be a good man so you can indulge that desire without fear of consequence. It’s been such a long time since someone looked at you the way he looks at you now, an almost indescribable fondness that you haven’t even begun to earn.

“It’s a nice shirt,” you say lamely. “Thank you for lending it to me.” You don’t mention that it smells very pleasantly like him, and how it’s been a bit difficult to keep yourself from sniffing at the flannel all evening.

“You’re welcome to anything I have,” he says, and you know he means it.

“I hope that includes your bed,” you say jokingly, trying (and failing) to diffuse the intensity in his eyes. “Because I think that’s where I’m headed now.”

“Of course it does.” His thumb rubs across your knuckles, the other hand coming up to cradle your cheek. You shake, all nerves, worried that he’ll close the distance and kiss you, but he just taps his forehead against yours instead, eyes smiling. “Off you go, sweet thing. You give us a shout if we get too loud, eh?”

You swallow nervously and nod, taking a step backwards. “Goodnight, John.”

"Goodnight, doll.”

You quickly shut yourself into the other room, flicking on the light while you strip down to your panties and wrap the flannel shirt around yourself again, and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a bizarre day, and the room feels strange, too open and too dark, but it still doesn’t take long to fall asleep.

Hours later, you wake at the sound of the door opening and clicking shut again. You sit up before you’re fully alert, dreams shredding apart and solidifying into reality as you blink away sleep.

“Shh, s’just me,” John’s voice comes out of the darkness, slurring slightly. You can’t see anything in the darkness, until he crosses over to the window and opens the curtains, letting in a little light from the waxing moon outside. He turns towards her, his big frame silhouetted against the scant light, humming. “Bloody hell, you’re a pretty little thing.” The soft clink of his belt buckle is far too loud in the quiet room, as is the rustle of his clothes as he strips down to his boxers.

“John, what are you doing?” you ask nervously.

“Coming to bed,” he says, like it’s obvious. “M’too old to sleep on the floor, and Gaz is on the big couch.”

“Oh. I’ll move then. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” You throw back the sheets and swing your legs onto the floor.

“No, no, stay right where you are.” He swoops over and grips your legs gently, lifting them up and back onto the bed. He smells strongly of whiskey and mint toothpaste, and the clinging remnants of cigar smoke. “We can share tonight. Get things set up better tomorrow.”

“John…”

He slides into bed beside you and easily pulls you close, strong arms wrapping around you tightly, rolling so you’re half on top of him, one hand cradling your back and the other on your waist. “Yeah, doll?” he asks.

“John, we can’t— I can’t sleep like this.”

“Shh, just give me a minute to hold my pretty girl.” He nuzzles against the top of your head. “I’m gonna be so good to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

"You're drunk," you say, holding the flimsy excuse out for him, hoping that he'll take it. You don't want to think about him meaning it. It makes going home look all the more unlikely.

"A little," he admits. His hand drifts lower, fingers dipping below the soft lace of your panties to dig into soft skin around your hip. He groans. "You're perfect. Sweet and soft, so damn beautiful. I'll make you happy. I'll give you anything you want, if you stay with me."

"John! Stop that, we can talk later, just go to sleep."

"I know this all started wrong, doll. The lads got carried away. But this is right. You feel that too, don't you? We'll have to come up with a better story for our kids, hm? Something proper romantic." He kisses the top of your head, humming happily.

"Our kids?" you squeak. "Jesus, John, you can't be serious."

"Course I am. We can start trying whenever you're ready."

Well, at least now you know he's just as delusional as the rest of them. "You don't even know if I want kids."

"You do," he says confidently. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're drunk," you say firmly. "Go to sleep."

He chuckles. "You didn't say I'm wrong."

You push away and roll over so you don't have to look right at him. Even in the darkness, you're certain that your face betrays more than you'd like. It was none of his business if you wanted kids. You certainly weren't going to have them with him. "Go to sleep," you repeat.

"Yes ma'am," he says, looping his arms around you again, tugging you close to his chest. "Goodnight, doll."

Thanks for reading!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[alexsnerdycorner]

You're My Girl

Title: You’re My Girl

Word Count: 2450

Warning: Smut, Swearing, reader wears a dress, PIV sex, Oral (F receiving), orgasm denial (female), multiple orgasms, no cuddling or aftercare., a bit of a praise kink,

Fandom: X-Men/Marvel/X-men 97

Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Gambit X Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Request: hi hello I am SO here to provide Remy smut requests. reader gets jealous of Bella Donna flirting with Remy so he has to remind her who his girl REALLY is (also she totally hears them)

Summary: Remy has eyes for Y/N but when the League of Assassins and Guild of Thieves have other plans for him, things don’t go well. Bella Donna has been flirting with Remy all day at their engagement “party” which makes Y/N jealous. When she starts giving him the cold shoulder, he takes her into his room and fucks her within earshot of his fiancé. Remy gets off on the fact that she can hear you two.

A/N: Ah! I love this idea! I will say I have yet to read all of the Gambit comics, but I have watched x-men TAS/97 and have read some of the comics with gambit and belladonna. I’m so stoked to be writing this!!! I squealed when I read this request. My dear ANON, if you have any more requests for any character, please reach out. I might even do a part two to this is you all like it.

Work:

When you were thirteen, you were banished from home after showing the mutant ability to create portals that teleported you and others anywhere you could think of. Jean-Luc LeBeau of the Thieves’ Guild took you in off the streets after witnessing you steal some food from a stand in New Orleans’ French Quarter. He introduced you to his adoptive son and mutant, Remy, a handsome fourteen-year-old. Jean-Luc and Remy taught you the ways of their world, turning you into a master thief.

You had always been attracted to Remy from the moment you met him. Remy was always there for you no matter what. He had a soft spot for you as he too was abandoned for being a mutant. The day you turned eighteen, Remy asked you out on a date. You, being in love with him already, said yes.

Things were going great until Bella Donna Bordeaux entered the scene. Bella Donna was the daughter of a high-ranking member of the Assassin’s Guild, the Thieves’ Guild sworn enemy. She also couldn’t resist Remy’s charm and good looks.

Behind your back, Jean-Luc and Bella Donna’s father arranged a peacemaking marriage between Remy and Bella Donna. When Jean-Luc announced it a few months after you turned twenty-one, you were heartbroken.

A few weeks later they held an engagement party for Remy and Bella Donna which you were forced to attend. This is where you were now. Sitting in the corner near where Remy stood in a suit and tie, you watched as Bella Donna came over and linked her arm with Remy’s. A huge smile was plastered on her face. Remy smirked up at her.

“Oh, Remy, mon amour, would you come meet my friend, she has been just dyin’ to meet you?” She said.

“Uh,” Remy paused for a moment as if unsure to go with her, “Sure. Why not, Cher.”

You rolled your eyes and watched as Bella Donna guided him over to a dark-haired woman almost as beautiful as she was. He extended a hand in greeting which she accepted and shook. You couldn’t hear their whole conversation, just bits and pieces as it was loud in the ballroom of the Thieves’ Guild compound. You were supposed to be socializing but just sat there in the corner by the bar and watched Remy.

Bella Donna was giggling at something Remy said and took her hand and pressed it to his chest in a flirtatious gesture. You heard her say the phrase “be a doll” and then the word “drink”.

He turned to her and said something you couldn’t hear and she replied to him. Remy started to walk to the back of the room towards you and the mini bar. He smiled at you as you sipped your drink.

“Hi Cher,” he greeted you.

“Remy” you said flatly.

Seeing the bartender was busy with someone else, he reached over the counter and poured himself a bourbon. He placed the bottle back over the counter, The bartender came over and asked how she could help.

“An expresso martini for miss Bella Donna, please,” he turned to the bartender and then back to you when she turned to make the martini.

“She looks like she’s having fun.” You nodded in Bella Donna’s direction. Her back was turned and she was having an animated conversation with her friend.

“Yeah she is.” He said wistfully and stared at you for a moment with an undeterminable look on his face for a moment. You shied away from his look and found yourself staring at the ground.

“Sir, the drink,” the bartender pushed out the glass to Remy.

“Yes, thank you, mon ami.” He grabbed the drink from the bar. You watched him as he walked back to Bella Donna and hand her the drink. She smiled at him in thanks.

She sipped the drink slowly and glanced up to see you staring. You overt your eyes for a moment as she set her drink down on the table in front of her. You looked back up as she whispered something in Remy’s ear and held out her hand to him. You can’t help but roll your eyes. He looked up at her and took her hand. He led her over to the dance floor.

A slower song started to play as she held onto his shoulder with one had and his hand with the other. He led her in a slow dance. Bella Donna looked back over to where you were sitting to find you staring at the two of them yet again. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Remy’s cheek, making your blood boil.

You shot out of your chair and over to the entryway where Jean-Luc stood.

“I’m not feeling that great, Jean-Luc,” you lied, “I have a migraine, is it okay if I lie down for a bit?”

Concerned, Jean-Luc places a hand on your shoulder, “Are you alright, darlin’?”

“I will be,” you said forcing a smile onto your face, “I would just like to lie down in my room for a bit.”

“Yes, go. Go. I will get you when food is being served.” He patted you on the back.

You take one last glance over to Remy and catch his eye. He raises his brow in question. You roll your eyes and portal to the next room over, your bedroom.

Once in your room you let out a sigh and kicked your shoes off. How could he do this to you? How could he just let her flirt with him all evening without even so much as a look at you to see if you were okay? How could he be –

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. You open and see Remy standing there sheepishly. You looked past his shoulder and could see Bella Donna waiting by the entrance to the ballroom.

“What,” you said coldly but let him in. He closed the door behind himself.

“Pa said you weren’t feelin’ good. I came to check on you.” He said lightly.

“Shouldn’t you be out there with your fiancé?” you asked harshly.

Remy sighed and then chuckled, “That’s what this is about, cher?”

You clench your jaw and look away from the man you loved, “Not like you even care.”

“Come on, dats not fair.” He reached out to touch your arm but you backed away.

“She’s been flirting with you all night at the party for your engagement and you don’t even have the balls to ask me how I’m doing,” you spat.

“Cher-” he starts.

“Don’t ‘cher’ me, Remy. We were dating for almost three years before she found a way to get you away from me. And then you pretend that we never were together. That we never even mattered.”

“Y/N,” he said, “We do matter.”

“That’s not how you’re acting. You never even objected to the marriage. You chose her over me.” Frustrated tears brimmed at your eyes.

“Y/N, dat’s not true. Not true at all. I begged Jean-Luc to let me have you. To find a ‘nother way to unite the guilds. He said I will either marry her or get banished without you. And I couldn’t stand the tought of loosin’ ya. It was Sophie’s choice, cher.” He found your eyes with his own and didn’t let them go. “Don’t ya tink for one second that I chose her over you.”

He moved to touch your arm again and you let him this time. You look up at him with watery eyes, “I miss you already”

“I’m right here, cher. Right here.” He pulled you into a hug.

“Don’t leave me Remy. Please.” You said into his chest, “Run away with me.”

“Dey will hunt us down, cher, you know dat.” He said into your hair.

“Let them,” you pulled back and looked at his face.

“Y/N,” he said sadly.

“Remy, I love you. I always have and I always will. Nothing will change that. I want you. No one else. You”

You could see something go off in Remy’s brain the moment you said you loved him. When you finished talking he leaned forward and kissed you hard on the lips. You kiss him back and wrap your arms around his body. He broke the kiss, “I want you too, mon amour.”

Remy shrugged off his suit jacket, placed it on your dresser, and kicked his shoes off. He then walked you back to the bed and you sat down on it. He knelt on either side of your legs and kissed you. His tongue parted your mouth and danced with yours. His fingers danced at the hem of your short dress. It was flowy so the skirt was around you instead of under you.

“You’re so beautiful in this dress cher,” he said between kisses, “but right now I want it off you and on the floor.”

He pulled up the dress up over your head and tossed it to the ground

“You’re my girl, my only girl,” He growled and loosened his tie before sliding it over his head.

He went back to kissing you. As his hand roamed your body you started to undo the buttons to his dress shirt. You pushed the shirt off his body and let it fall to the floor in a heap. He held you to him, stroking up and down your back and then around to your front, grazing your breasts before stopping at your shoulders. He gently pushed you back so that you were lying down and hovered over you.

“I’m gonna want you to scream my name loud enough so she can hear that you’re my girl. So they all can hear that you’re my girl.” He whispered into your ear. He trailed kisses down your neck and stomach and to the waistband of your panties. He replaced his mouth with his hands and slowly slid your panties off. He tossed them aside all while maintaining eye contact with you.

He scooched back so that his head was hovering over your midsection. He lowered his mouth to your core and started to lick at your clit. His hands holding onto your thighs. Your hands moved to his head, removing his hair from his pony tail, and running your fingers through it.

“Oh god your mouth feels so good,” you moaned. He licked long and slow circles down your clit. When he put more pressure on it, your hips bucked and you let out a moan. He grabbed your thighs harder and let out a soft giggle that vibrated against your throbbing bud.

He introduced a finger into your pussy and you arched your back off the bed. He inserted another finger and you groaned out his name.

“Cher, I’m gonna need you to be a bit louder for me. I know you can do that for Remy.” He began pumping his fingers in and out all while lapping at your clit. He introduced one last finger and began a harsh and fast come-hither motion on your g-spot.

“Oh Fuck, Remy!” You shouted.

“Now dats better, mon amour.”

Your breathing hitched and you felt a coil deep in your stomach start to unravel. Your walls started to spasm and contract around his fingers.

“I’m close, baby.” You cried out. But before you could climax he removed his fingers and mouth. You whined in protest.

“Ain’t no way I’m just gonna let you cum on my fingers. I want you to cum on my fucking cock so you remember that you’re my girl.” He pushed himself up off the bed and removed his belt in one fell swoop. He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down with his boxers revealing a long hard cock glistening with precum.

You sat up and reached for his cock. You opened your mouth but he stopped you with his words, “No cher, tonight’s all about you and your pleasure. Lay back and enjoy.”

He bent down to kiss you as you laid back down on the bed. He teased your wet pussy with his hard cock and then pushed in in one quick thrust.

“Oh, Remy! Yes!” you couldn’t contain your moans.

He began a slow and agonizing pace to let you get adjusted. You wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Ça c’est une bonne fille” he panted. That’s a good girl.

You clenched around his cock at his praise, “Oh, God. I love you Remy.”

“I’m gonna need ya’ to be a bit louder, Y/N,” He grunted, picking up the pace.

He soon began a merciless rhythm with frenzied thrusts and grunts. That familiar feeling of tension came back to your stomach and you hungrily kissed him.

“I’m close, Remy! Please,” You begged loudly.

Please what, cher?” He urged, “use ya’ voice.”

“Please let me come!” you pleaded. The coil tightened, threatening to push you over the edge.

“Go ahead, Y/N,” he howled, “come for me.”

The coil in your stomach shattered, flooding you with pure ecstasy. Your walls clenched around his cock and he swore loudly.

“Merde! Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” he moaned.

“Come for me baby,” You kissed his neck.

He let out a grunt and frantically shoved into you before allowing himself to release his seed into you. He pumped his cum into your pussy with his cock and slowly pulled out of you.

He grabbed some tissues from your nightstand and cleaned your pussy gently. He grabbed more and cleaned himself off.

“Woo, cher, Remy loves ya’ so much!” he exclaimed. He took in the sight of you completely undone on the bed from his doing and smiled, “Whaddya say we go back out there? I wanna see the look on ‘er face.”

You knew who exactly she was. It was Bella Donna. So you smirked and nodded your head. Remy helped you up and dressed you before dressing himself in his now wrinkled suit.

He gave you one last kiss before opening your door and leading you out. Jean-Luc was in the corner with Bella Donna and her father. The moment she saw the two of you she raced over as fast as she could while wearing high heels.

“You fucking man-stealing whore!” Bella Donna yelled at you. She raised a hand to slap you but before she could Remy caught her wrist and tutted in disapproval.

“Uh-uh Bella, you don’t touch her. She’s mine.” Remmy growled and released her hand. She stood flabbergasted as Remy turned to you, “Can I have this dance?” He held out a hand to you and without any hesitation, you took it and he led you onto the dance floor leaving a sputtering Bella Donna at the entrance.

[peachsukii]

content // pro heroes, long distance, kirishima loves you so so much, scent kink if you squint?, kiri/baku/kami friendship nonsense, early 20s. @bunnions inspired this after our little perfume talk!

6:03AM

Kirishima stood by the doorway with Bakugo, scrolling on his phone while patiently waiting for Kaminari.

“C’mon Sparky, we’re gonna be late!” Bakugo groans, foot tapping angrily against the floor.

“Dude, we’re an hour ahead of schedule because you insisted we needed to be early! Chill out,” Kaminari snapped back from the other room.

Kirishima was too preoccupied with swiping through pictures of the two of you together, his heart aching in his chest at your smiling face. God, he missed you something fierce. You’d both been on opposite patrol schedules and back to back missions hours away from home. It was starting to feel like the universe had it out for you two.

“Yo, Red,” Bakugo calls out, waving a hand in front of Kirishima’s phone. “Did ya hear me?”

He awkwardly chuckles under his breath. “N-no…sorry Kats. What is it?”

“I was askin’ if you were alright. Y’don’t have that annoying morning joy or whatever you called it.”

“Oh,” Kirishima pauses, sighing while tucking his phone back into his pocket. “It’s gonna sound lame, Y/N and I have been on opposite schedules for weeks now. We haven’t gotten much time to spend together and I miss her.”

“S’not lame to care about someone, you of all people should know that,” Bakugo says while placing his hand on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I get it, I miss my girl, too. This shit’s exhausting.”

“You…do?”

Bakugo pulls his hand away and puts it on his hip. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

That was a stupid question. Kirishima knew Bakugo better than anyone, maybe even more than his own girlfriend, and how his heart works when it comes to caring about others.

“Sorry, stupid question,” Kirishima apologizes, shaking his head. “I just can’t wait to see her.”

Bakugo scoffs. “So that’s why ya smell like Wisteria 76 every day, huh?”

Kirishima blushes, hand shooting to his face to cover his embarrassment. He’d been wearing your perfume daily, addicted to how it comforted him while out on patrol, a constant reminder of you lingering through the air; subtly sweet with a hint of musk. He missed the way it would invade his senses as he kissed your neck or whenever he’d hold you close. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough to get him by while he was forced to be apart from you. He sprayed it on himself, his clothes, the pillow he used in the hotel room…

Wait.

How did Bakugo know the exact perfume name?

“How do you know the brand name, Kats?” Kirishima asks, eyebrows quirked with curiosity as Bakugo’s face started to flush scarlet.

“…my girlfriend uses the same shit. I tried usin’ it but my fuckin’ quirk overpowers the smell instantly.”

“So that’s why you’ve been hovering around me the whole time we’ve been here!” Kirishima exclaims, shoving Bakugo in jest. He smacks Kirishima’s hands away, turning around and crossing his arms tightly over the broadness of his chest.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll blow this whole room up.”

“Okay man, calm down. That’s sweet of you, Kats. Who would’ve thought you had a soft side for that kinda thing?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bakugo grumbles to himself before turning back around to face Kirishima, bumping him with his shoulder. “I’m tryin’ to say you can talk ‘ta me about her if it’ll make ya feel better.”

Kirishima flashes him a toothy grin and laughs. “Thanks, man. Same goes for you too, ya know.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes before patting Kirishima on the back. “Thanks, Red. Bring her over for dinner after we get back, we can all catch up an’ gives me an excuse to cook.”

“Found ‘em! What’s got you two so smiley this morning?” Kaminari interrupts as he skips to the doorway with his goggles in hand.

Kirishima glances at Bakugo before responding. “Girl talk. Let’s get goin’!”

“Aww, you guys never wanna talk about girls with me!” Kaminari whines as the three of them head out to the agency together. “Just cause I’m single doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear about your hot girlfriends!”

Only another week and the two of you will be reunited once again. Maybe Kirishima will commit to taking that long needed vacation time you two talked about - the world’s had plenty of Red Riot’s time, it was your turn to have him all to yourself.

[haologram]

araneae 🕸️ k.sy (teaser)

🕸️ synopsis: when you realize your friend (with benefits) actually has feelings for you, a tangled web of lies and avoidance ensues. 🕸️ genre: friends with benefits au ; big dummy dumb idiots to lovers because it's the only trope ever ; ta x student dynamics ; fluff, angst & eventual smut (surprise?) 🕸️ pairing: zoology ta!kwon soonyoung x marine biology major!reader | side pairings: joshua hong x sana minatozaki ; vernon chwe x roh jisun (fromis_9) ; mentions of reader x yuta nakamoto (nct) 🕸️ word count: 2.8k | full fic: i don't fuckin' know but hopefully under 20k. 🕸️ rating: 18+. minors do not interact i beg. 🕸️ warnings: mentions of knife play (none involved), alcohol, mentions of protected sex (dw it'll get freaky later), mentions of cum, loss of virginity talk, mentions of marijuana (stoner!hoshi be off the honeypacks!!), they're naked for most of this snippet. a lot of parties later in the fic, just wait LOL. 🕸️ what to listen to: good kisser - usher ; magic stick - lil' kim ; more to come.

LAST YEAR – Sunday, October 23.

You were never opposed to a nice Halloween party. Lots of thematic drinks, stupid boys dressed as Ghostface trying to explore knife kinks, and girls going all out with their glitter make-up and tinsel in their hair for the optimal fairy costume. 

You loved a good Halloween party, music blasting out of the speakers that were stolen from the AV Club by the softer version of the Beta Tau Omega brothers. Dancing with strangers in sweat-soaked facades, and waking up with smeared face paint all over your neck and shoulders from whatever disguised hook-up you'd taken home that night.

Last night's rager had to have been one for the books, because you have no idea how you ended up in this absolute mess of a bedroom – owned by none other than your close friend, Kwon Soonyoung. The same Kwon Soonyoung who also happens to TA the class you've put off taking for the last two years, and are set to start taking the upcoming spring semester.

The same Kwon Soonyoung that was related to the wife of the Dean, and the same Kwon Soonyoung that showed up everywhere stoned or ready to get stoned. The very same Kwon Soonyoung that made infused pre-rolls and edibles for nearly the entire campus…for free. Even you could see that was a horrible business call, and you were a Science major.

Soonyoung who helped people sneak kittens into their dorm rooms and make homes for them under lofted beds. Soonyoung, who taught a dance class and self-defense class back to back, so he was never free until after nine at night. Soonyoung who made hanging out seem like he was trying to get into your pants because he was just naturally flirtatious (and somehow, still absolutely bitchless.)

Soonyoung who you've kissed twice since meeting him two years ago, both times at Halloween parties hosted by his stupid fraternity. Soonyoung, who has had his hand up your skirt twice before someone interrupts you by asking if he has any weed at hand. He always does, and it's always in his car or his bedroom. He always goes, and a part of you, no matter how into it you may be, knows it's for the best. He keeps his circle small, of friends that is. You were added to the mix sometime after your first Halloween party (and first kiss together) your  freshman year, when he slammed into you in the middle of the economics hallway, breaking your laptop in the process. He'd felt so bad he took you to Best Buy that same night and shelled out two grand for a new one and even invited you out to lunch the next day.

He did not remember making out at all. To be fair, neither did you until the digital photos came back and he texted you a picture of the two of you kissing against the Beta Tau insignia on the wall. You were so embarrassed you avoided him for a week after, but he quickly forced you out of your dorm for a movie night. The two of you became fast friends, bonding over silly little things and enjoying each other's company – but it didn't stop the rumors from flying that you were a freshman stealing a guy from the sophomores. 

You remember that he adamantly denied any and every dating rumor flung your way, and even went as far as distancing himself from you for a bit – but when you tried to pull the same move he had earlier that year, he said maybe it was best for the two of you to remain friends from a distance. You didn't speak to him for the rest of the year, choosing to spend your time with friends your age and even dating a transfer student named Yuta Nakamoto, who was also in Soonyoung's year.

When word got around, Soonyoung was pissed – but didn't attempt to rekindle your friendship. He still followed you on Instagram, and still felt a bit of anger puddle in his stomach as he liked photo after photo of the two of you together, biting his tongue at the empty smile you held by his side.

This continued well into summer, and he saw the two of you take a trip to Jeju Island together, before breaking up the following week. Soonyoung heard from your friend, Nagyung, that he was transferring back and neither of you wanted to try long-distance. 

The following school year, he watched as you got recruited by sorority after sorority – eventually joining his frat's sister sorority, Alpha Sigma Delta. You hardly had to rush, the girls actively pushing you to pledge and you were far too nice to say no. 

You saw him again for the first time at the Halloween party planning, when you and your fellow pledges were tasked with helping the frat pledges in hauling in liquor. You weren't very happy about it, but Soonyoung whisked you away without a word from you, telling everyone that he needed your help with a certain task.

That task? "Can we talk?"

And you did. You talked, and talked, and talked. He even left at one point to get drinks for the two of you, returning to you fishing through his bag of pre-rolls for the ones infused with lemon balm. He smiled, telling you they were in his car, and you rolled your eyes at it.

You kissed at that party, too. It went further this time – the two of you on Seungcheol's balcony. The idea had been to go up to the roof and get crossed, but it seems a rather tipsy Soonyoung had other ideas. You didn't mind it, in fact you encouraged it – you slipped his hand up your latex dress, you let him slip your panties down your legs. "Hey, Hoshi! Do you have any pre-rolls?!" 

Just as he'd started undoing his pants.

"Fuck, I'm sorry baby."

"It's fine."

You passed out in his bedroom that time, too tired to go back to the sorority house with your sisters. You got out of clean-up, and Soonyoung left you a kimbap roll and an electrolyte drink on his nightstand, with a note asking how you got there 'haha.' 

It hadn't been fine. Again, neither of you remembered this happening until digitals were printed. And it was freshman year all over again – except this time, Soonyoung stuck around. Soonyoung defended you tooth and nail, and even dropped a few of his friends that bad-mouthed you. When you asked him about it, he shrugged, "Nothing wrong with kissing your friends every once in a while." So, here you are. Again.

The third year in a row you and your stupid friend have made out, and somehow, you're in his bed. There's no other explanation as for why your underwear is across the room, hanging off his lamp and why his head is gently laying on your chest. There's literally no other explanation.

"Soonyoung." You rasp, patting his cheek. He doesn't stir, but pouts into your bare breast. "Soonyoung." You speak louder, shaking him slightly as he peels open one of his eyes. 

"Yeah?" It takes him a moment to realize that it's you, sprinkled with glitter from his eye look last night and practically doused in his saliva.

"Oh, fuck." He just furrows his brows, rolling off your chest with a groan. He sits up at the edge of the bed, surveying the room before realizing he's got no pants on. "Son of a bitch. Did we…Yup. Yup, it's right there." His painted fingernails point at the discarded condom atop his dresser, flung hastily in a half-asleep attempt, most likely. You sigh, letting your head fall back on your pillow with a hmph. He does the same, his fingers only reaching up slightly to close the blinds with a jerk of the liftcord.

"You think it was good?" You ask with a small smile, and he snorts. "It was with you, I doubt it would've been bad."

Silence permeates the air again, before he sees your bare bottom half also covered in glitter. You have a tattoo on your hip that you didn't have when you first met. It's a stick-and-poke kitten. "Nice tattoo." "Thanks, I got it on Jeju Island." "When you and Yuta went?" "Yup." "Cool." He sits up, peering down at you with tired eyes. "What'd you see in that guy, anyway?"

"Hm?" "Yuta." "Oh. You want the truth?" It's like being nude in front of each other isn't a big deal. It's like having slept together after years of being in limbo means nothing. It's all so normal, the way you allow him to practically eye fuck you.

"I was sad you stopped being my friend." He blinks at you, watching the way you carefully pick at a thread loose in his comforter. You pull it out, discarding it behind you with a soft smile. "Does that answer your question?" "You fucked another guy because I stopped being your friend?" He asks incredulously, and you shrug. "Not just, but it was a large reason."

"You lost your virginity to him." His eyes are wide, and you shrug once more, nodding your head. "Yup." "Did he make you cum?" "Soonyoung-" "Did he?"

You sigh, patting his comforter. "Not the first couple of times, no. He got better at it, though. It was decent." 

Nodding, he clears his throat.

"Do you think I-" "Maybe. I don't know. I don't remember much, just the Pink Whitney Mingyu gave me." "Mingyu does love his Pink Whitney." You flip onto your back again, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. Tucking your hands behind your head, you speak again. "Do you think I went down on you?" "There's lipstick on my tip." "What color?" "Uhh…wine red." You wipe a finger across your bottom lip, the small amount of residue a bloody, Cabernet red. "Hm. Checks out."

The air feels…comfortable.

"Wanna shower?" "Yeah." "Can I shower with you?" "Yeah, Soonie."

The two of you stretch simultaneously, before rolling to the side of the bed and standing up. He grabs the discarded condom off the dresser, holding it like a used tissue and taking it to the bin. You dig through his dresser for a towel, and he fishes out something for you to wear.

"Boxers okay?" "Hm, I prefer briefs." "On me or on you?" "Your underwear choices are your business." He holds up a pair of Spiderman briefs. You bite back your laugh and nod silently, extending your hand for them.

He disappears into his bathroom, flickering lights on and turning the shower head on. "Hot?" "Boiling." "Got it."

The both of you get in, and you close your eyes as the water pelts your back. Soonyoung says nothing as he moves your hair off your shoulders and away from your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You should've asked me." He mumbles, reaching for the shampoo in the caddy behind you. Peeling your eyes open, you look up at him with a confused stare. "Asked you for what?" He shrugs, holding the shampoo bottle upside down over his hand and squirting some out. "I would've made you cum the first time." You snort, shoving his chest lightly. "Yeah, well…you didn't. It's fine." "This isn't weird to you?" "What? Showering together?" "After fucking, yeah." "Could be worse." "How?" "I could be that girl you've been flirting with since last year, wondering when you're going to text her back." "Who? Yujin?" "Yeah." "I'm not flirting with her, what made you think that?" "Stolen glances, flirty touches, you give her pre-rolls all the time." He rolls his eyes as he cards his fingers through your hair, his dull nails scrubbing your scalp gently. Your eyes flutter shut, and he huffs. "I give everyone pre-rolls." "Because you're a horrible business magnate." 

"No, because I'm nice." You smile without opening your eyes, your hands reaching out to touch his chest. His body feels good under your fingertips, you realize. "Are you mad you don't remember any of it?" "Furious." He mutters, gently tilting your head back to wash the soap out. You can't see the way he's looking at the sweet slope of your neck, just barely making out small nips of his teeth across your throat. Your necklace hangs nicely. The rest of the shower remains silent, as he carefully washes you before himself. His attention to detail is insane, the way his fingers hold the washcloth taut so he can feel every inch of you. He has to commit this to memory.

After, you're drying your hair with a random t-shirt he gave you. He remembers you told him that towels can be too rough for your hair texture sometimes. It's only when you're brushing your teeth with a brand new toothbrush he pulled from his cabinets that he speaks. "Let me change my bedsheets." "Don't wanna lay in the sin of fucking your friend, do ya?" The navy blue sheets are quickly replaced by ones with light grey ditsy floral print, and his comforter is shoved off and replaced by a few throw blankets. He watches as you change his pillowcases, only looking away when he hears his phone ping.

Msg From: Cheol [9:32am] hosh [9:32am] who is the girl in ur room and is she missing a pair of cat ears

"What was your costume last night?" He asks, and you snort. "I was a sexy witch." He smiles to himself as he picks up his phone.

Msg To: Cheol [9:33am] not missing a pair of cat ears [9:34am] and it's y/n

Your head snaps up when you hear a pair of feet thundering up the stairs, followed by silence. You give him an odd look, only to hear excited giggles down the hall and the pitter-patter of two adult men coming towards Soonyoung's room. You cross your arms as you hear the door creak open, an expectant look on your face as Jeonghan and Seungcheol's noses appear through the crack. "Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Jeonghan remarks sweetly, and you just roll your eyes.

"He wasn't bluffing." He whispers to Seungcheol, receiving an annoyed huff from Soonyoung. "If you're done intruding on my personal business, I'd appreciate it if you left. The pledges still need to clean up last night's mess." Jeonghan gives you a wry look. "Can I say something and you don't get upset?" "If it's about sex, I will punch you in that pretty face of yours." You say pointedly, fluffing the pillow in your hand before throwing it onto his bed. Jeonghan purses his lips, nodding before sliding out from under Seungcheol. He nods his head, a satisfied look on his face. "Have a good…don't fuck too loud, okay?" Soonyoung barely misses Seungcheol's face with the charger he throws across the room, his giggle being heard in the hallway as he barrels down the stairs.

"Idiots." He huffs, running a hand through his damp hair as you flop onto the bed. "You don't mind if I stay here a bit? My head's killing me."

He lays down next to you, a sigh escaping his lips.

"You okay, Soonie?" Turning only his head, he scans your face. Tired eyes lined with thick lashes, plump lips covered by the Aquaphor in his bathroom. Slightly unkempt brows and your shoulder tattoo peeking out from the collar of his shirt on your frame.

"Kitty?" You grimace at the pet name, one he christened you with when the two of you met. He'd been dressed up as a cowboy, and dancing with a skeleton that was stolen from the comparative anatomy students (with the help of Junhui, of course.) He also had a lit joint between his fingers, one that sprinkled ash over your newly healed shoulder tattoo and made you yelp in pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry, kitty." He quickly put it out in a nearby ashtray, dusting your shoulder of any ash residue. "It's fine, it's fine. Just…can I get a hit?"

"Yeah?" He sits up, leaning against his bed frame before looking down at you.  "Would it be weird if I asked to try again?"

You glance up at him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "Try what again, exactly?"

He clears his throat, a beet red blush coating his cheeks. "You said Yuta didn't make you cum. And we don't know if I made you cum. So…can I have a redemption round?"

You've sat up at this point, a small laugh falling from your lips as you push your hair back, "You want to fuck me?"

"I can just go down on you, if, uh…if that's what you'd prefer." He stutters, mentally cursing himself. You glance at him, eyes scanning his face. "And we're still friends after this? You won't dump me?"

"I won't. I promise. Cross my heart, kitty." He holds his pinky finger out, insinuating you link yours. Sighing, you do just that. "Fine. Hop to, I want breakfast."

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Imagine: You get into a fight with Dean and go to the bar alone to prove a point, but some guys end up harassing you and there’s only one person you can call for help.

Warning: sexual harassment, sexual assault, language, violence

Pairings: Dean x Sister!Reader

You were absolutely furious at Dean. He wasn’t letting you work the case because whatever it was, was targeting young blonde girls that he felt resembled you. You were pissed that he was trying to bench you. You could take care of yourself and you were old enough for him to not treat you like a literal child.

“I swear to God kid, you’re sitting this one out and that’s final.” He said looking at you with hard eyes.

“I’m not a child Dean!” You shouted at him.

He clenched his jaw, “then stop acting like one!”

Ohhhh you were pissed, but knew exactly how to get back under his skin. Two can play that game, “okay then! I’m going to the bar because that’s how much of a child I am. I’m a child who can legally drink.” You seethed, turning to walk out the door.

“Uh, yeah I don’t think so.” He said grabbing your arm. “You JUST turned 21, you’re not going to the bar alone.” He said.

You ripped your arm out of his grip, “No! I’m going to show you how much of an adult I REALLY am.” You said snarkily and walked out the door, slamming it behind you.

There was a bar just up the road from the motel so you walked there. You actually didn’t enjoy going to the bar or really drinking at all and Dean knew that. You were simply here to prove a point. You sat down and asked for a drink.

It was about 20 minutes later when someone sat next to you. Thinking it was Dean, you turned to look at him.

“Hey sweetheart, let me buy you your next drink,” he said, smirking. Not Dean. So not Dean.

“I’m good, thank you.” You said nervously. You did not like the way he was looking you up and down or the looks of the crowd he was rolling with.

“Oh come on baby, just one drink.” He said putting his hand on your inner thigh and trailing upwards. You jumped up just as his friends were making their way over to you both.

“I’m good, thank you.” You smiled politely trying to get yourself out of the situation.

You felt arms snake around your waist. Your heart plummeted. He was holding you so tight, he was no doubt going to leave finger print bruises behind.

“Don’t leave too soon, we didn’t even get to have any fun yet.” He said pulling you closer to him.

“Let go of me!” You said pushing him off with all of your force before darting to the bathroom. You slammed the door shut and locked it behind you.

You stood there frozen while you heard them banging at the doors. You were scared shitless. A tear streamed down your face as you panicked feeling overwhelmed. You didn’t know how you were going to get out of this one. Your only hope was to call Dean, but your whole point from earlier would completely fly out the window.

“Come out when you’re ready to have some fun, we’ll be waiting.” You heard him say through the door.

You wiped away your tears and let out a shaky breath. Dean was your only option or else you’d be forced to have some fun. You whipped out your phone before dialing Dean’s number.

“What,” He answered harshly.

“Can you come pick me up?” You asked softly.

“No, you wanted to be an adult so act like one. Adults find their own way back home after drinking at the bar.” He said. Your heart dropped.

“Okay,” you whispered. You held the phone up to your ears waiting to hear Dean hang up, but it never came.

“Where are you?” Dean sighed.

“The bathroom.” You replied shakily.

“Are you safe?“ He asked, hearing the tone in your voice and immediately knowing something was off.

“No,” you whimpered, “please I’m so sorry. I need you, please.”

You heard Dean shuffling, “alright kid, alright, I’m coming, stay on the line.” He said softly.

“Okay,” you whimpered as you heard the banging again against the bathroom door.

“They’re back Dean!” You cried.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, you’ll be okay. I’m coming and I’ll take care of it. I got you kid.” He reassured you.

You whimpered before hearing Dean again, “I’ll be there in less than a minute, but I need you to be ready incase they get into the bathroom okay?”

You were breathing heavily as the banging got harder.

“Kiddo, I need you to focus for me alright? Do you have your knife?” Dean asked trying not to panic.

“Yes,” you cried.

“Okay, okay, good, use it if you have to. I’m almost there though kid. Hang tight.” He tried to keep the communication going so he knew you were okay until he got to you.

“I’m pulling in now.” He said after a few seconds and you heard the wheels of the impala squeal.

You overheard a bunch of commotion and banging. Your heart was racing and before you knew it it was quiet.

“De?” You sucked back a breath.

You heard heavy breathing on the outside of the door before a slight gentle knock.

You stayed quiet in fear, afraid that it wasn’t Dean.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s me, it’s Dean. You can open the door now, I’m here.” He said.

You sighed in relief and swung the door open. He relaxed his clenched jaw when he saw your face. You looked at him and then noticed one of the guys, the main one, was knocked out bloody by the door. You looked at Dean’s knuckles that were balled up and bloody before looking back at him. Your heart was pounding and you were fighting back tears.

He gave you a knowing look and reached out to you. “You’re alright, you’re alright.” He said, nodding, trying to reassure you. You put on a brave face, but you were about to crumble and he knew that. All it took was to see the soft and concerned look in his eyes before you crumbled. You collapsed into his chest feeling all of the emotions that wracked through your body.

“Shhhh shhh I’ve got you sweetheart.” He said, holding you up. “Let’s get you out of here alright?” He asked.

You nodded into his chest as he walked you out of the bathroom, holding you close to him. You passed by the other guys who clearly had no idea that their friend was unconscious because they started hooting. You gripped onto Dean’s shirt tightly.

“Oh baby why are you going home with him? I could’ve given you so much better,” He smirked.

Dean broke your vision of him by tucking your face to chest before he shot the guy a death stare.

“Say one more frigging thing and I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat you’ll end up like ur buddy back there.” He seethed, before walking you out. He wanted to rip them all to shreds, but knew it was more important to take care of you and keep you safe.

You got into the car and it was quiet. You were shaking terribly and trying to catch your breath.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked staring into you.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Did they touch you?” He asked.

“Not really.” You whispered back, looking down at the floor.

“Not really?” He asked forcefully.

“Just my inner thigh and they grabbed me by my waist.” You whimpered, “It just scared me.”

Dean clenched his jaw and tightened his hands on the steering wheel.

“It was really nothing, I should’ve been able to take care of myself. I’m sorry Dean.” You said, feeling ashamed.

He snapped his head in your direction looking pissed.

“That’s not nothing! Those dicks had their hands on you and I should have killed them all.” He seethed.

“I shouldn’t have let it get to the point that it did. Im weak and pathetic. No wonder why you don’t want me going on this hunt.” You said embarrassed.

“I don’t ever want to hear that again. This wasn’t your fault. Sometimes people are way worse than monsters and you were in a vulnerable position. Nobody will ever judge you for needing help and I’m so glad you called me for it.” He said firmly, before making you look him in the eyes.

“I know you can take care of yourself kid, that’s not the problem here. You’re one of the bravest and strongest people I’ve ever met. Hell, you’re tougher than me, but I need to keep you safe. Do you hear me?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” You said.

“Don’t be sorry, I will always be here when you need me kid. You’re safe with me.” He assured, patting you on the leg.

[yourmamakira]

"FIGHTING WORDS" Carl Grimes, she/her

Set in the Alexzandria Era after Carl lost his eye. His very protective girlfriend overheard the local kids talking about Carl behind his back. and needless to say, no one had anything to say about Carl ever again. [ANGST, to SLIGHT FLUFF]

Carl has been in a coma for weeks. His girlfriend had never left his side after the incident. Her depression had gotten so bad it took Daryal, Glenn and Rick to hold her down to force her to eat and drink water.

Her mood had deteriorated drastically, she was more angry, she was less active, she never smiled anymore and she didn't know who to blame for what happened to Carl. She knew it wasn't right to Blame others for the accident. but she had nearly lost the one thing keeping her going in this Hell that used to be a world, she had every right to be upset.

she sat in the armchair next to the bed Carl lay in peacefully, she slipped between sleep and alert wake. She didn't even let the nurse come into the room to check on Carl unless absolutely necessary, and when anyone else was in beside her and Carl, her hand stayed on her and Carl's Gun that slept in her holster.

her eyes shot open and her hand bolted to her gun as the door to their room swung open. In walked the one and only Daryl Dixon, and for once he was without his crossbow. he walked in with his usual gruff demeanor and closed the door behind him.

The girl took her hand off her guns and crossed her arms as she returned to watching the sleeping Carl.

Darryl came over and sat in the seat opposite of her. he crossed his arms before speaking.

"You need to go outside. He ain't wakin' up any sooner with you watchin' him like a hawk. He ain't goin' nowhere, and you don't have to go that far. Jus' needs to get outta this room."

You glared at him through your hooded eyes. but inevitably he was right. carl had been like this for weeks and every second you watched him it felt like your body was slipping farther into a black hole.

Daryal then spoke again, "You need to be in your best health for when he wakes up. you need ta' take care of em', not him take care of you. how you gon take care of him like this?"

he had you stumped with his words. he was right, how were you going to take care of Carl and you couldn't even take care of yourself?

you let out a sigh and began to get up, he followed suit but then stopped you by holding out his hand. you huffed while rolling your eyes and took your guns out of your holster. he didn't know about the knife in your boot thank goodness, but knowing him he probably did.

you passed him up with a glare while leaving the house and strolling out into the street you hadn't seen in weeks. There wasn't much to do here. Besides the few teens that roamed, but you mainly kept to yourself and Carl.

you never really talked much these days, nothing worth talking about. Many thought you were mute at first meeting you, but that narrative quickly went out the window whenever you got too upset. Memory's of all the times someone had pissed you off to bad and you cussing up a storm regardless the person.

you walked the streets passing by people and not saying a word. You came up to a small bench and decided to take a seat and just take in the fresh air, you had to admit, it did feel nice on your skin to feel the breeze and not that stuffy old room that felt more like a prison rather a room.

a few minutes had passed and you had begun to get up being done with your reminiscence before you spotted a group of teens headed your way.

You despised these inhabitants of Alexandria greatly, and their children were even more unbearable. You started past them before one of them decided to take it upon himself to cat-called you, despite you clearly being madly in love with Carl, these specific group just love to torment you.

"Hey, Miss Mute! How about I show you what a real man looks like in bed while your one eyed freak of a boyfriend's out!" He and his friends cackled like hyenas while shoving him around, as if what he said was the greatest thing in the world.

you slowly spun around and sneered, you decided to brush off his remark of the incident, knowing nothing good would come out of beating his ass, "Your tiny shrimp dick doesn't even come close to a real man. My one eyed freak of a boyfriend at that." he stopped laughing and his gooneys ooed like kindergarteners.

He tilted his head to the side as he stepped closer then he should have. "The fuck did you just say to me, bitch?" You stepped closer to him and you could feel his stank breath up your nose, it made you want to vomit on the spot. But you continued to talk your shit.

"I said, you have a big ass head, and a small as Dick. Your breath also smells like walker ass. need I say more?" Your head tilted to the side and your eyebrows furrowed.

his face contorted into one of anger, he scoffed then chuckled dryly as if he thought a funny thought in his fucked up head.

He raised his hand and tried to touch your hair, but you moved your face and roughly grabbed his arm putting it behind his back so he couldn't move. you then put pressure on his back as he cried out loudly in pain.

"you ever touch me again, and I will fucking kill you!"you yelled out aggressively. You were not in the mood to be fucked with.

He couldn't even respond with words as he just continued to cry like a baby for anyone that would dare to help him.

His friends all backed up out of fear of being next. They started yelling at you to let him go but you didn't listen and continued to nearly break his arm.

He yelled louder as your pressure increased. Your face hot with anger that he even dared to touch you after making a nasty comment about your boyfriend.

You then heard yells of a few adults calling you name but you still didn't let up.

Then out of no where two pairs of strong arms grabbed your arms and you thrashed in their hold.

The boy you had previously had in a hold jumped up to his feet and held his arm in pain, "you crazy bitch! That bullet should have Killed Your boyfriend!"

He yelled out and suddenly your thrashing stopped, you looked up at him with a dark look and his face went cold. He knew he had fucked up.

You harshly ripped your arms away from your holders and ran up to the boy with a flying fist, it knocked him on the ground and you kept on punching. His face become black and blue and Messy with blood, your knuckles ached but you didn't care.

It took a total of four adults to pry you away from the nearly unconscious boy, but by then you had already lost all cool.

You stopped struggling in their hold and spit on the boy you had just beat to a pulp.

Your breathing was irratic and it became very clear to everyone that you were extremely unstable. You caught your breath and spoke down darkly to the boy who cried out in pain. He spotted you stepping one step closer and backed up out of fear.

"If you, or anyone else is this god dam town, ever speak bad about Carl ever again. Your gonna wish your sorry asses became walkers after i'm through with you! Do you FUCKING HEAR ME??"

The boy nodded vigorously as more and more people came over to stare at you with fear.

You yanked your arms away from the men and everyone backed up and cleared you a path as you turned around to go back to you and Carl's room.

You made it up there and slammed the door and began pacing back and forth. You were so Pumped with adrenaline that you didn't even notice the empty bed where Carl laid before.

The door swung open and in came a seething Daryl, followed by a worried Glenn and a Very Concerned Maggie.

Daryl came over to stand infront of you and you mean mugged him. He gave you a harsh push and you feel backwards into a chair.

Maggie and Glenn both Yelled but their cries went Unheard by the both of you. You death gripped the arm rests of the chair you sat in as you glared up at the yelling Man that had became your father figure over the course of this apocalypse.

"I told your ass to take a walk! Not Pumble some kids face in! Now That kids gonna need Stitches that we don't have Just because you couldn't control your Anger over some Dam words! Now I heard what them kids said to you, what they said about Carl. But what if That dam wanna be president decided to Kick you out because you beat up some kid they thought was innocent?! You don't think before you Hit! And we can't have that type of stupidity in this world! Get your fuckin' act together! Or you're gonna be in some deep fuckin' shit."

He left off with those words and left behind a shaking and teary eyed child on the Chair. Your leg bounced rapidly as tears fell from your eyes but no sound came out.

You didn't know any other way to let out what you were feeling besides violence. It was your only option given that Carl wasn't in a good shape to calm you down like he usually would.

You were unknowingly left alone in the room and that left you with your thoughts. You stood up and began throwing, kicking and breaking everything and anything in the room that could be thrown kicked or broken.

You continued until another voice entered the room, another voice you hadn't heard in a long time.

"Y/n..?"

You spun around and anyone could tell just by looking at you that you were not okay.

Your eye bags as eye bags, your hair was widely unkept, your knuckles bled from throwing things, hitting things and beating the shit out of kids and unsuspecting walkers. You shook with every breath you let out, and your voice was raw from yelling into your pillow with Sobs you couldn't control.

Carl Slowly made his way into the room as he carefully walked to you like you were Fine China. He stopped right in front of you and then suddenly encased your form.

You stood there for a few seconds, asking yourself in your loud head 'was this real?'

But as you felt the heat off his skin, the soft melancholy beat of his heart. And his soft But ragged breaths. You knew your boyfriend was real.

You slowly encased his body and you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your face. You began sobbing, wetting his shirt like it was raining from the clouds.

Your loud sobs shook the house that you both occupied but You didn't care. Your throat became dryer and dryer and you sobs grew raspy as you clutched Carl Closer to your body.

You were a broken record falling apart without the other half that was the love of you life. Carl rubbed your back and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

You continued to sob until you couldn't anymore. Your legs grew tired as your body grew heavy, you hadn't slept in days. And it was evident on your face.

His big hands cupped your face and used the pads of his thumb to wipe away any stray tears from your eyes, your hurt and abused soul seethed through your eyes and he could see what you had been going through with just a glance at your tear stained face.

He kissed your tears away with his chapped lips and your eyes fluttered closed. Your breathing leveled out after crying for hours in his shoulder. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the bed.

He laid down in the spot he had been for weeks and you laid on top of him. You looked into eachothers eyes until you couldn't keep them open anymore.

The two of you fell asleep to the sounds of each others breathing.

You knew you would have to deal with the consequences of what you had done, but you could deal with them later.

Now? The two puzzles peices had finally clicked back together where they belonged, and as long as you had Carl. You didn't care what was next. As long as whatever it was, was beside him.

HIIII, this chapter is kinda sad, sadder then I usually write at least, and this had more reader then Carl so I'm sorry about that but I really hope you guys enjoyed this, and if you wanna see more of Mr grimes please request and I'll get back to you :3

[descendantofthesparrow]

could i ask for some sort of Harry Hook x reader where she overworks herself and faints? if not thats okay! thanks

here you go! i actually really had fun with this and wrote it within two hours :D

Request-takes place during ‘Rise of the isle of the lost’

=

The waves of the isle shore crashed against the dock, making for an almost pleasant background noise as the crew of the lost Revenge worked tirelessly to get it in working order for its voyage to the isle of the doomed.

Repairing the hull, plugging holes, fixing sails, gathering rope, swabbing the deck-every crew member was hands on deck as they raced around to get it ready in time; which had to be within the day, before anyone else could have a chance to get the trident that rested at the bottom of the bay.

“Raise those sails, make sure tha’t anchor is connected, don’t ye dare let that sludge get on the deck!” Harry ordered the crew, his brow furrowed as he paced the deck-Uma was in the chip shop, unable to command her new crew, though she was far less knowledgeable about being a pirate captain, so Harry-the appointed first mate-was the best man for the job to make sure everything was in top shape.

He was already covered in sludge, a tar-like substance that acted like waterproof superglue-he’d already worked to plug holes and replace some of the hull’s boards but now he needed the crew to finish up the ship before the end of the day.

He turned as he heard a slight struggle from the gangway, seeing (y/n) Smee, one of his oldest friends-even older than Uma-carrying a shit ton of rope for the sails. Harry frowned, seeing how red in the face she was and how exhausted she looked. He looked at his pocket watch, and while he couldn’t exactly tell time-he knew the lass had been working for probably seven hours straight.

“Smee,” Harry barked out, beelining it to her, putting his hands on her back and shoulders as she continued to tug the huge ropes onto the ship. (y/n) panted, tilting her head to look up at him, sweat dripping down her brow as she breathed heavily, almost heaving.

“Harry,” she panted out and Harry frowned, taking the rope from her hands and easily slinging the heavy ropes over his shoulder. “I was doing that,” (y/n) huffed and Harry just ignored her, tossing the ropes by the main mast where they needed to be.

“ye need ta’ take a break,” Harry demanded, grabbing (y/n)’s wrist and beginning to drag her off the ship towards the chip shop.

“I’m-fine-“ (y/n) said, pulling her wrist out of his hand with more force than necessary, and she suddenly felt dizzy and swayed. “-Harry-“ she managed to say before the feeling of fainting took over and her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fell backward, hitting the railing of the gangplank and she went overboard.

Harry instantly reacted, not wasting a second as he dove over the rails and into the water after (y/n). “Man overboard!” Bonnie yelled and Gonzo raced to the ladder hanging off the port side of the ship and unlatched it, the ladder unraveling and landing in the water for Harry to climb back up on.

Harry grabbed (y/n)’s unconscious form and tugged her close, pushing off a jagged rock next to him and swimming back up to the murky surface, shaking the water off his face as he broke the surface and swam to the ladder with (y/n) in his arms, still unconscious.

“she okay?” Drey asked as Harry climbed up the latter with one hand, (y/n) limp against his side.

“she will be, she fainted from overworkin’ ‘erself.” Harry said, handing (y/n) to Gil as he reached the top and climbed onto the deck. He shook his head again and took (y/n) back from Gil. “all of ye, take a break, before someone else faints.” He ordered and stormed off the ship to the chip shop.

-

(y/n) woke up less than 20 minutes later, blinking awake to the feeling of a cold cloth on her head and lying down on Uma’s bed in Uma’s room that was above the chip shop. She groaned a bit, feeling like she had a wicked headache, and sat up; the wet cloth falling to her lap as she rubbed her face.

“There ye are,” she looked to her left, seeing Harry entering the room with a cup of water, handing it to her. “what did I say ‘bout overworkin’ yer’self?” Harry asked, sitting at her feet, and giving her a stern look. (y/n) huffed, drinking the water.

“I didn’t want to seem lazy,” she muttered and Harry rolled his eyes, leaning over to flick her forehead and she yelped, flinching her eyes closed. “hey!”

“Yer not lazy, yer not useless, just because you can't keep up physically as the rest of the crew don’t mean yer any less useful, ye just have different uses. Besides, ye helped enough in tha’ morning, and I had told ye ta help Uma in the chip shop instead.” Harry said, flicking her forehead again and she smacked his hand away, making him smirk.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” (y/n) muttered and Harry rolled his eyes, no shit. He instead scooped her up and carried her back down to the chip shop, (y/n) hitting his back on the way down. “put me down! Harrison James hook!”

Harry just snickered and dropped her in one of the chairs at the long table near the kitchen, grabbing a tray and dropping in front of her. “eat, take a break, stay ‘ere with Uma, I’ll be back when the ships done.” Harry ordered, pointing his hook at her as he swaggered out the chip shop.

(y/n) huffed, pouting a bit as some of the patrons chuckled and then turned back to their meals as Uma came out from the kitchen with a mean glare to silence them. “When has not listenin’ to him ever turned out well for you?” Uma snorted as she passed by (y/n), leaving a seaweed smoothie as she did. (y/n) just rolled her eyes, grumpily taking her break.

-end-

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 7 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: I’m back baby! Thank you guys for waiting <3

W/C: 4.611

part six

"I won't look. Don't trust me at all, do you?" I mutter to Amira after taking my top off, grabbing the shirt she's handing me with my eyes closed.

"You'll like it. It's a part of my surprise." She sighs, helping me pull the shirt down my body without my makeup getting on the collar.

"Can I look now?" I ask, eyes still squeezed shut.

"Yeah, turn around."

I turn, looking in the mirror. I stay quiet for a moment, then gasp in surprise.

"What? An England kit? Why are you making me betray Spain?" I attempt to joke, looking at her.

"Like you didn't live here for so many years." She scoffs, pushing me.

"I'm just kidding. Why the kit, though?" I ask, fixing the material in the mirror.

"Ta da!" She exclaims, I look back at her, frowning in confusion when she starts waving two keycards in my face. My hands fly to take one and I read it quickly.

"No, way! You got tickets for the England vs. Australia friendly?"

"Yeah, got them a couple days ago." She replies, and I eye her suspiciously.

"Oh- mister Trent got them for you? Guess he really likes you." I tease, watching her become more and more flustered.

"Shut up- he gave them to show his appreciation."

"Yeah, you want to believe that? You'll be upgraded to wag in a few weeks, trust." I add, laughing at her annoyed expression.

"Aren't you and Jude a thing?" She accuses, putting on her own kit. Finally, she grabs her handbag and car keys off her desk.

I register her words a little too late, but my head whips around in disgust.

"Over my dead body."

"You both were cute last time." She mumbles, both of us walking up to her parked car.

"Absolutely not." I state firmly, immediately connecting my phone to the car.

"Oh, how the tables have turned.." She whispers, but I hear her clearly. I send her a glare, though my glare gets even more intense when she pulls out her strawberry and mango-flavored vape.

"Put that thing away, now!"

"I just realized how different watching a game feels when I'm not working." I say, admiring the full Wembley Stadium. We had finally arrived at our seats, and the view was perfect. Looking around, I do recognize some people, realizing this was probably the family section.

"Turn that working brain of yours off and enjoy. Look, it's starting!" Amira nags, wrapping her arm around mine in excitement.

I chuckle at her, deciding to just enjoy the match. Watching both England's and Australia's teams move around the pitch. Halftime comes around and ends quickly, making way for an opportunity for England. Grealish kicks the ball against the post, missing a chance and making us cringe, but we burst into cheers when Watkins manages to try again and scores.

The match ends with a 1-0 for England. When the whistle is blown, we sit down again. We'd stood up near full time, anticipating a last-minute goal from Australia. It was a friendly, we knew that, but making it exciting was so much more fun than just sitting there and watching the game.

"What now? Is your man coming here?" I ask, fixing my shirt and smiling cheekily at Amira.

"He said he will- after freshening up. Let's wait." She tells me, patting my thigh.

"Didn't even deny that he's your man?" I tease, watching her roll her eyes.

We're interrupted a couple minutes later. I hear someone shout her name, watching both Trent and Jude walk over to our seats. Trent greets us in a friendly manner, while Jude stands next to him like he was forced to come up.

I slowly allow Trent and Amira to have a private conversation, and my eyes land on Jude when they walk away to have some more privacy.

"What are you doing here? And what's with the kit?" He asks, arms crossed.

I scoff, mirroring his body language. Looking him up and down. 

"Can't attend a match now? Don't worry, I was over the moon since you weren't playing." I retort, being petty.

I watch him roll his eyes, his expression changing for a second. He opens his mouth to say something, but he hesitates for a moment.

"Who's on your back?"

"What?"

"Your shirt number."

"I don't know- who?" I ask, turning around, confused, when I hear a sudden chuckle.

"Who's on the back?" I ask, trying to see with my phone camera, frowning at his smug face. What the hell was his problem?

I take a picture, turning to face him again as I click on the picture, freezing when I see Jude's last name and number. My expression falters, and I use all my strength to keep my composure.

Amira, you fucking witch..

"Think you're obsessed with me." He whispers, leaning in. I lean back immediately, like he's some highly infectious disease.

"You're sick, Bellingham. It’s just your name, calm down..”

I reply, annoyed at the fact that I couldn't take the shirt off or put my jacket on since I left it in the car.

He goes to say something else, but he's cut off when I hear a familiar voice call out to him. Both of us turning around to see his mom, her eyes lighting up with warmth when she recognizes me.

"Mrs. Bellingham.." I greet, permanent smile plastered on my face when she walks up to us. I notice both her- husband and youngest son behind her. 

How could I not recognize his dad and brother?

This past summer, my entire social media feed was plastered with photos of Jude and his family on their first day. Not to forget the fact that I was literally behind the camera when the pictures were taken.

She pulls me into an embrace, her arms wrapping around me warmly. The musky and orange blossom scent of her perfume greets me, and it smells like the most expensive bottle of YSL 'Libre' I have ever smelled.

"How nice is it to see you here. Are you off due to international break?"

"Yes, I thought I'd come visit family and friends out here..." I trail off, my eyes darting to her husband next to her. She notices the hesitation in my voice and introduces us to each other.

"I’m Mark, nice to meet you. I have heard some good things about you. I've also had some contact with your father on some legal matters over in Spain. Good man he is.." He shakes my hand firmly, a very kind smile on his face.

"Thank you, I hope he's been a great help to your family.."

I immediately switch my speech. Trying to sound totally different from the tone I had used with Jude.

"Oh right, this is our youngest son. Jobe.." Denise begins, pushing her son towards me.

I press my lips together to stifle a chuckle, awkwardly shaking the teenage boy's hand.

"Nice to meet you. Hope you're a better football player than your older brother over here?"

I say, pointing a thumb at Jude. It sounds like a joke, but when I glance at Jude, he's giving me the nastiest look when his parents aren't watching. Jobe has only muttered one or two words, but has probably already been nicer to me than his brother has ever been to me.

Jobe only replies with a small smile, so I look up at his parents.

"You must be proud.."

"Of course, equally proud of our two boys.."

Mark replies, holding his son's shoulders. I chuckle, looking at Denise when she speaks.

"Did you enjoy the game? Must be a change of scenery.."

"Oh- yeah, felt weird not working during a game. It was nice though, I was invited by a friend-"

I trail off, looking around to see Amira, noticing her giggle and chat with Trent a couple seats away.

"But she seems busy.." I laugh, they follow my line of sight and chuckle, nodding in acknowledgment.

"You're also wearing an England kit.." His dad notices, pointing to my shirt.

"Jude's, I presume?" His mom asks, making me nod. I turn, giving them a quick look at the "Bellingham" and number 10 on my back.

I'm wearing their last name on my back, that is really weird, if given some thought..

"A gift too.." I smile, facing them again.

I notice that they all glance at Jude for a moment before Denise speaks up again.

"Why don't you join us for dinner tonight? A small appreciation for helping Jude out with his Spanish and adjusting in Madrid."

Damn, how close did they think we were?

Lovely, very nice of her, but that would be a masterclass in awkwardness.

"That's incredibly kind of you, Mrs Bellingham, but I'm sure you don't get many dinners together as a family. So, I don't want to inconvenience your family. Besides, I've got some dinner reservations with my high school friends.."

Her expression immediately turns into an understanding one. I thank her once again for the invitation, holding her hand to convey my appreciation. Finishing our chat, I grab my bag from my seat, pulling it on my shoulder.

"I've got to go, roads will be busy.."

"Right, why don't you accompany y/n down, son?" Mark says, throwing his son a look.

I dart my eyes to Jude, his expression falters before he nods, listening to his dad.

I quickly bid them farewell, walking down alongside Jude.

"You didn't even jump in to save me once.” I mutter, grabbing my phone out of my handbag. Checking for any messages from Amira. 

Where did this little minx go?

"I was struggling to breathe when my mum invited you for dinner. Kept my mouth shut with difficulty.."

"How helpful.” I scoff, biting my lip in anticipation as we wait in front of Amira's car. The grey Audi A5 easily recognizable next to all the expensive sports cars.

"You can leave, you know.." I break the silence, looking up at Jude, resting my weight against the car door.

The alarm won't go off, right?

"You think my mom is going to be happy when I leave you here alone?" He asks, scrolling through his phone.

I sigh, sending one last threatening text message to Amira before shoving my phone in my pocket. An awkward silence ensues before I break it again.

"So, are you actually going to play next Tuesday against Italy?" I ask, giving him a skeptical look.

"Why? Want to see me play?" He smirks, putting his hand in the pocket of his blue sweatpants.

"Is that a genuine question? Obviously not.." I answer, furrowing my brows.

He scoffs, poking his tongue through his cheek. Looking me up and down.

"Why would I voluntarily come to see you?" I add, widening my eyes, looking at him in disbelief. 

"Your friend will probably come, with the way we're waiting for her and Trent.."

I look around the empty parking lot, was this a camera prank?

What the hell were these two doing anyway?

Speaking of the minx, she finally appears a good ten minutes later. I could've sworn if she didnt have a deep skin tone, she'd probably be as red as a tomato. Because, honey she looked flustered.

I raise my brows at her- disheveled appearance, instinctively giving Jude a knowing look.

Though, my look of scrutiny stops when I realize those two were onto some- freaky shit. Seems like Jude realizes at the same time, because, he too looks away from me.

"I'm leaving.." He quickly blurts, walking away without looking back. I watch his figure disappear, snapped out of my trance when Amira taps me.

"What the fuck? What did you two do?!" I ask, laughing loudly. Sure, I was annoyed that I had to wait for her, but my best friend's happiness was more important.

"Get in the car! I've got to tell you every single detail.."

"What's it called again?" I turn to Amira, asking her about the name of the venue we're supposed to go to.

I had been in London for a couple of days now. From family dinners to meeting up with high school classmates, all of it kept me busy. Everything had been very fun and memorable so far.

Last night, England played their match against Italy for the EURO qualifiers. I couldn't lie, the 3-1 win for England was very satisfying, especially when watching live from Wembley Stadium.

Right now, Amira and I are in the car. Getting driven to the restaurant or bar - Trent had invited us to. A small gathering to close off international break, if you could call it that.

Small or big party, Amira and I had to look our best. For obvious reasons, I am wearing the black mini-dress I had tried on in Amira's office.

"Novikov Restaurant & Bar.." She mutters, touching her lipgloss up while looking at her phone camera.

"You ever been?" I ask, equally fidgety with my appearance.

"Yes, nice place, but we'll probably go clubbing after."

I raise my eyebrows at her, sighing, before leaning against her shoulder.

"Will you keep me from getting drunk?"

"Can't save you, darling.."

Yeah, y/n is an absolutely a goner. Everyone within meters of her is aware of it, though to her, her limit has not even been reached yet.

She throws her head back as she downs another shot of- she doesn't even know. She took and gulped down anything that was handed to her by her best friend.

All she knows is- it burns in the back of her throat- like a fucking bitch. She doesn't even stop to think about why she's doing it, all she's been wanting to do, is take her mind off work and university. The opportunity was presented to her in a shot glass, and who would refuse?

A smart, responsible person, probably...

"Go dance with him.." y/n mutters, wiping the spilled and dribbling alcohol off her chin. Eagerly pushing her friend in Trent's direction.

The football player had invited the both of them for a reason, and to drunk y/n this was a good opportunity to play Cupido.

"No! I want to dance with you." Her friend replies, grabbing y/n's wrist.

"Go! You can dance with me anytime, go now!" She ushers, pushing Amira away with all the strength in her arms.

She giggles to herself when she notices Trent grab Amira's hand, feeling like her mission was partially accomplished.

Though, her happiness is short-lived when she curses herself. Her feet were practically going numb due to the stilettos her stylist bestie had forced her to wear.

To forget the uncomfortable feeling, she decided to get another drink. She clutches onto her handbag, starting to walk- or stumble towards the bartender.

She knew how to have fun on her own, there was no problem in that regard.

"Oh, fuck- sorry.." She slurs, looking up when her forehead collides with a hard chest. She makes immediate eye contact with a completely sober Jude, he raises a questioning brow, taking her disheveled appearance in.

"I take it back.." She loudly says, pushing past him to get to the bar. Loud music drums into her ears, causing her senses to tingle.

She's about to order a drink, but before she has the opportunity to speak, she's rudely interrupted by someone.

"A whisky neat, for the beauty here.." Someone says, she turns her head in a flash. Fucking pissed, a man dared to speak for her and over her.

It's a young man, around her age- slightly older judging from his appearance. His brown hair is slicked back with an estimated ten kilograms of hairgel, along with the tackiest combination of a white button-down and- skinny jeans.

"No, thank you!" y/n replies waving her hand and shouting over the loud music. She blinks a multitude of times, trying to clear her vision and mind.

"What'd ya mean, luv? Not suited to your taste?"

"I'm not interested.." She says, turning away from him and ordering her own drink. Fidgeting with the clasp of her bag and pulling bills out of her wallet.

"Oh, come on. Can't you see how much of a catch I am?" the douchebag insists, pointing up and down his frame.

She rolls her eyes at the words. This time her eyes might stay there permanently because the stranger continues repeating the corniest of words.

"No, thank you.." She repeats, taking a huge gulp of her pink Cosmo, looking away, and continuing to ignore him.

Should she start barking like a rabid dog to scare him off?

"Come on, babygirl... Would it hurt to smile for me?”

She almost chokes on her drink at the words. Eyes hazy and unfocused, one thing she's sure of- this man is about to get a taste of her leather handbag.

"Does it look like I'm interested?!" Her voice isn't loud, though her tone is sharp and full of irritation. She takes a step back, giving him the most repulsed look.

"I like my women feisty and alluring like you.." The guys persist, placing a nasty hand on her hip, a little too close to her backside.

"Get your filthy hand off me.." She demands, the grip on her glass tightening. Her brows furrow and her mood drops tremendously fast.

"Your words are sharp, but your body seems to be enjoying this. Let loose for me, sweetheart. Won’t ya?” His breath reeks of the most pungent alcohol she’s ever smelled, and his hand keeps inching closer to her bottom.

'Oh, fuck no' she thinks, placing the glass on the bar table. Readjusting her grip on her bag.

"Can you fuckin' let go of her?" She hears a loud voice say, Brum accent thick, but it's already too late.

She moves her handbag behind her, creating a good distance for maximum impact, before using all her force to hit the guy square in the face. The contact makes a loud noise, and surprisingly enough, it's detectable over the insanely loud music.

The guy immediately retreats, stumbling a couple steps back in shock. He cradles his head, screams of agony leaving his disgustingly filthy mouth.

"I said no- didn't I? Are you fucking deaf?!" She curses, temperature rising as she breathes in harshly. She can't even register what's happening- but he deserved it and had it coming.

"Let’s go..” A familiar voice exclaims, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards the restroom. He pulls her into the unisex section, locking the door behind them.

She struggles against him, her heels tripping and scratching against the floor. The now blood-stained handbag slips out of her hand, dropping to the floor.

"Let me go! You fucking creep! I swear, I'll bite it off!" She shouts, eyes shut tightly, as she hits his rock-hard chest multiple times. Hand squeezed up in a tight fist as she keeps trying to get out of his hold.

"y/n!" He shouts, trying to get her to look at him. He doesn't know the full story of what happened. All he saw was the guy touching her, putting his hands on her, and he was sent flying with a blow to the face.

Jude is impressed, though that's not his main thought or concern when y/n is fighting him as if he's the guy who was bothering her.

She’s drunk, but still recognizes his voice. The way he pronounces her name, not with venom and hatred per usual. No, instead, with the upmost panic and concern. He wants to snap her out of it, back to reality, back to him.

Her eyes snap open, arms held tightly by Jude. His fingers digging into her skin. Both of his hands keeping her up and steady.

"Jude?" She mumbles, looking up at him with the widest eyes imaginable. Her mascara running down her hot and sweaty face. Her favorite lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth.

"It's me, you're good." He replies, noticing the faraway look in her eyes. His voice softens, lowering to a gentle decibel. Unlike the booming and ear-deafening music and conversations outside of the enclosed space they're in.

"Sit.." he gestures, pointing to the restroom countertop. She looks up, blinking repeatedly, she's not thinking of sitting when her mind and thoughts are still hazy and in fight or flight mode.

"Can I lift you up?" Jude suddenly asks, his hands leaving her arms. It sends a surge of extra adrenaline through her body, but she nods absentmindedly, looking away.

Jude takes a deep breath, hands reaching to the back of her thighs. He lifts her up easily, placing her on the countertop. His biceps flex under his sleeves, a frustrated noise leaving his lips.

y/n sniffles, the shock of it all sobering her up a bit. She raises her head, looking up at him. He stands in front of her, practically in between her legs.

He looks away, grabbing a paper towel from the roll and handing it to her.

"Here, wipe your- nose.." He mumbles, watching her. He walks away and grabs her bag off the floor, meticulously wiping the blood away with a dampened paper towel.

"Fucking bastard.." Jude mutters underneath his breath, venom on the tip of his tongue, as anger rushes through his veins. Though, y/n had practically handled it all on her own. Even in her drunk- mess of a state, she’d managed to break the lowlife’s nose and his ego.

The only thing that kept him from running out and breaking the bastard’s limb was the image of him already suffering and withering on the ground. Bloody, broken nose making him look so pathetic and disgusting, like the person he genuinely is.

y/n wipes her nose, eyes wet and irritated. The pounding in her head seems to increase as she struggles to hold her tears back. Although, she’d kept sort of calm in the moment, her heart was hammering in her chest. She could stand up for herself, that was no problem. It was the fact that she wasn’t fully coherent, which made her feel absolute terror in the moment.

All of the mixed emotions and alcohol make the nauseating feeling in her chest and stomach worse. Her eyes flutter for a moment, and she gags, clamping her hand over her mouth.

The noise alerts Jude, it takes him out of his murderous and aggressive thoughts. He looks up, immediately holding his hands out to her.

"Are you going to be sick?" He asks, eyebrows raised. She nods, hand still clasped around her mouth. Her mouth salivates, an imminent sign of needing to puke. It prompts Jude to help her down the countertop, his hands on both of her sides.

When her feet hit the floor, she practically leaps over to the toilet, retching and heaving over the toilet bowl. A warm hand is placed on her nape and forehead, trying to put pressure on those parts to stabilize her.

A choked sob leaves her dry lips, sweat beginning to glisten on her forehead. There was nothing she hated more than throwing up, the way it made her feel weak and out of control was an absolute nightmare to her.

"It's alright.." She hears, the soft whisper reaching her thumping ears. She takes a breath, squeezing her eyes tightly before heaving again. Her body shakes as all fluids leave her stomach, and the pungent smell of stomach acid makes her condition even worse.

It's all a blur, like a foggy fever dream. The only thing she can register are the sweet words reaching her burning ears. Full of reassurance and gentleness while she felt like she was losing her mind in the moment.

I hold back a gasp as my eyes land on the photo on my Instagram feed. I immediately sit up from my chair. My jaw slacks open as I read the caption.

"Jude Bellingham and alleged girlfriend spotted getting cozy after Australia friendly."

"The 20-year-old Madrid star seemed pretty happy to see his name and number on her shirt. The moment was captured by attendees, who provided us with pictures of the athlete's parents and his alleged lover having a seemingly very nice conversation. It seems like Mrs. and Mr. Bellingham approve."

"The identity of the young woman hasn't been revealed or confirmed as of yet. With some speculation about her father having close ties to Real Madrid CF."

I resist the urge to cry my eyes out at the association and immediately stand up from my desk. Practically skipping steps when running down the stairs, almost running into a group of fellow staff members.

My eyes dart around the cafeteria to spot the douche I needed to find. I make a beeline towards him as I watch him interact with the other players.

"I'm sorry, guys. I need him for a quick moment."

I say not waiting for anyone to answer. I grab onto Jude's upper arm and drag him out of the cafeteria. I hear some teasing whistles behind us, but I ignore them as I pull him into one of the small meditation rooms.

"What are you even doing-" he begins, but I cut him off as I shove my phone into his face. Showing him the photos and the caption which will probably keep me up tonight.

"What the fuck is this, huh?" I ask, raising my brows. Analyzing his facial expression as I fold my arms defensively.

I expect him to frown, get angry, get upset, but instead-

He fucking smirks, an amused chuckle leaving his lips. He snatches my phone, fingers tapping to read the comments on the post.

"Really? Is this a laughing matter to you?" I exclaim, ready to have a mental breakdown, while he just continues scrolling through the comments, starting to read them out loud.

"Not his usual type."

"He can do better."

I grunt, snatching my phone out of his hands, annoyed.

"I can play this game too, idiot!" I say, scrolling through the comments as well.

"He must be crazy, she's too pretty for him." I begin, passive aggressively reading positive comments about myself. I look up at him, watching him roll his eyes as he shoves his hands in his pocket.

"Well? What are you going to do about it?" I say, turning my phone off.

"What can I do about it?"

"This is your fault? If you weren't annoying me with your stupid antics, they wouldn't have made these speculations."

"You engaged in my 'stupid antics'!"

"Ugh- just send a cease and desist letter or something!"

"It's an Instagram gossip page, not a damn newspaper!"

I huff in annoyance, pacing around the small room.

"Can't you like- deny rumors?"

"I'm a football player, not a reality TV personality! They speculate about everything in my life already. Why would I deny them this time around?"

"Is that a question you really want an answer to?"

"Come on! What bad does it do you to be tied to me? Only good if you ask me.." He shrugs, and I don't miss the smirk on his face.

"Never mind, I'll ask my dad to handle it!" I say, walking past him to push the door open. I close my eyes in annoyance when it doesn't budge.

"You need to pull.." I hear Jude speak, the smile on his face practically audible from behind me.

"Fuck off.." I mutter seething in anger, pushing the door open and leaving him behind in the meditation room.

[immoral-loser]

Don't Move {Sheriff Eric Newlon x f!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: Sheriff Newlon has you cockwarm him in his office, but you just can't seem to sit still.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: nsfw 18+, dirty talk, cockwarming, p in v penetration, degradation, slight spanking, dom!eric, sub!reader,

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Main Masterlist | Sheriff Eric Newlon Masterlist

"Shh baby, you wouldn't want anyone to hear what you're doing right now, would you?" He whispers as he holds your hips down in a tight grip.

Your arms encircle his neck as you whimper, trying to stifle your moans as his length throbs inside you.

"Eric," you whine, "Please." He smirks as you attempt to grind your hips down, seeking some relief. Rough fingers dig into your hips, preventing your efforts.

"Don't move." He commands in a low growl by your ear, "This paperwork needs to be done today, sweetheart. Once it's done, I'll give you what you need."

This man was going to be the death of you. He was the one who called you, begging you to come join him on his lunch break, saying he needed to see your pretty face to get him through the rest of his day. It's his fault you're in this situation, yet he has the nerve to tell you to wait. Maybe if you readjusted yourself on his lap, you could relieve yourself a little.

"I'm not going to tell you again. Stay still." He demands, squeezing your hip before letting go and picking up his pen.

As he writes down the information of his latest crime-stopping achievement, you lay your head on his shoulder and try to focus on anything but his thick cock inside of you. His breath. Focus on his breath. His steady breath which doesn't falter whenever your walls squeeze around him, unlike yours. How does he do it? How can he be so calm? You want to see him break. Want him to be a wreck just like you are right now. But he told you not to move, to stay still. If you do anything to defy him, god knows what he'd do.

As your mind begins to wander to what his punishment would be for you, your hips automatically rolled into his.

The pen in his hand drops onto his desk, and you know you've made a mistake.

He leans back into his chair, sighing as he runs his hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." You say, trying to lessen his frustration.

"Didn't mean to? That's hard for me to believe, sweetheart, considering it's not the first or second time you've done that." He chastised.

"I really didn't-"

"I gave you one simple instruction. Do not move. And you couldn't do that." He continues, "You want to be fucked so bad - fine."

His hand swipes at his desk, scattering everything across the floor. He picks you up, his cock falling out of you as he turns you around and pushes you down face-first on his desk. He kicks your legs further apart and forces himself back inside.

"This what you wanted so badly, baby?" He asks as he starts to roughly thrust into you. You know he wants an answer but all you can manage is a small moan. After a second, you feel his palm connect with your backside harshly.

"Use your words, sweetheart," He tells you as his hand strikes you again.

"Yes!" You cry out, as the stinging sensation begins to fade.

"Yes, what?" He sternly says, not letting it go until you tell him exactly what he wants to hear.

"Yes, this is what I wanted, Sheriff!" You reply, giving into him completely.

"Good girl."

He collects your hands and holds them behind your back as his other hand holds your waist, pushing you further into the desk. His cock drives deep inside you, forcing several cries from your mouth. He groans out as your pussy tightens around him, getting closer and closer to the edge. He begins to pull you back to meet his thrusts, somehow pushing even deeper into you. The pleasure becomes too much, your eyes rolling back as an orgasm takes over.

His thrusts slow down before coming to a halt.

"Oh sweetheart," He says with false sympathy, "Surely that's not all you can take." He pulls out and rolls you over so that you are on your back. As you look up at him, you realise just how perfect this man is. With his dark silver hair, those piercing eyes that make you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and that thick cock which is currently covered in your first orgasm. Whilst admiring him, he begins to line up his dick again and quickly bottoms out before you can protest.

He grabs your thighs and hammers into you. Your moans slip out and you're unable to stop them as he fucks harshly into you.

"Such a fucking whore for me, aren't you sweetheart? Making me take you right here in my office where anyone could walk in. I should take you outside and let everyone see how much of a cockslut you are." He growls out, his grip tightening on your hips, sure to leave marks. Your walls tighten as the words leave his mouth, the thought of him forcing others to watch as he fucks you until you can no longer walk turning you on even more.

"You like that?" He asks, "You want me to show them that you're nothing but a hole for me to fuck whenever I want? Want them to see how pathetic you are as I fuck this tight pussy?" His movements become sloppier, seeking his own release. A hand leaves your hip and travels up your chest to then rest on your neck lightly, the other going down to draw circles on your clit. A tear slips from your eye as you approach your second orgasm.

"Come on baby, give me another one." He says as he puts more pressure on your throat and clit.

You can only breathe in short breaths, your hands coming up to hold his own that lays around your neck. "Fuck, Sheriff, need it." You plead as he thrusts into you one last time before you explode with pleasure. Your pussy clamps down on him and sends him over the edge, coming inside you in hot spurts.

He removes his hand from your neck and pulls out of you completely, finally allowing you to catch your breath.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he pulls out his phone and before you can comprehend what he's doing, a flash goes off. You raise yourself up on your elbows but are quickly pushed back down.

"No. Stay there until I tell you that you can move." He tells you, as he tucks his phone back into his pocket.

And so you do.

You lay on his desk with his cum leaking out of you as he goes around the room collecting everything he threw on the floor. He lays it all out around you until everything is back where it belongs. Then he picks up his pen and starts with his paperwork once more.

"Eric?" You speak quietly.

He looks at you, placing his hand on your cheek, "Yes sweetheart?"

"Can I get up now?"

"No, I'm not done with you yet." He replies nonchalantly, and he begins to write again.