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lnfours · 5 months

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everything | l.n

summary: he’s your best friend and you’re in love with him, but he’s not in love with you. or so you think, anyway.

warnings: fluff, a hint of angst, reader not knowing how love feels, kinda a situationship scenario but idk, also kind of hot trash?? - inspired by ceilings by lizzy mcalpine

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₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

he was finally home. after months of busy schedules and being away from home, he was back. and the first thing he did? he texted you. he texted you and asked if you were busy, like he always did every time he was back in london.

you had told him no, your plans had fallen through last minute and to be honest, you missed him. you missed his laugh, the way he hugged you, the jokes the two of you shared. he was your person and you were his, it was as simple as that.

and sure, maybe he was your person for another, completely different reason. but at the end of the day, to you, he was just lando. he wasn’t ‘lando norris, formula one driver for mclaren’. he was the boy you had known since you were a teenager, the boy you cheered for on the sidelines ever since he decided he wanted to work towards his dreams.

so the two of you had made plans to go out for a drive and catch up, the tradition you held every time he came back. you’d drive around, get some take out, and head back to your apartment for a few episodes of your favorite shows or a movie he’d seen and thought you would like. he had picked you up, the mclaren running on the side of the street as you climbed in, closing the door behind you.

you smiled, leaning into his touch when he leaned over and wrapped you into a side hug from the drivers side, “hey! missed you,”

you smiled back at the brunette, his green eyes meeting yours, “missed you, too, lan.”

his eyes scanned yours before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your lips. a new tradition you two had picked up ever since that drunken night in singapore. you had went to the grand prix with max, showing support for your best friend, just like you always did. somehow, someway, the two of you had found yourselves stripping each other’s clothes off in his hotel room. nothing but the sounds of your quiet moans and his mumbled curses filling the room as you learned each other’s bodies.

and it had become a thing, every time he’d come home you’d both find yourselves in the same predicament: tangled in the sheets within the hour.

the whole ordeal was like a dream come true in the beginning, something you had been wishing for since the moment you realized that maybe you loved him more than in a platonical way. now, as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, legs tucked underneath you as the rain pattered against the roof, your food in your lap as you stared out to the city lights below you, you weren’t sure it was a good idea. you had seen the girls that practically throw himself at you, why would he choose you over them?

he noticed your silence, tilting his head towards you and placing a hand on your thigh, “you okay?”

you swallowed thickly, “mhm,”

he knew you better than that, though, “no you’re not.”

you sighed, how do you tell someone who’s not in love with you that you want something more, “‘m fine, really.”

you picked at your nails, ignoring the way your phone was buzzing against your leg. you had assumed it was your friend texting you, begging for updates between you and the boy you were sitting next to.

“you know you can tell me anything, right?”

not this. not now.

you nodded, “i know.”

he nodded back at you, “okay,”

you looked back out to the window next to you, watching the rain drip down the glass. you swallowed the lump in your throat, biting down on your lip as you felt the tears prick your eyes. you felt stupid, stupid to feel like there was ever a real chance. a real chance that he could ever love you the way you loved him.

you felt his eyes on you again, “y/n?”

you hummed, turning back to face him, which was a mistake. you felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest.

“what’s wrong? seriously, i don’t know if i can handle the silence for much longer.”

you chuckled softly, shaking your head, “it’s nothing, really. promise,”

“stop lying to me,” he sighed, “c’mon, i’m your best friend. you can tell me anything.”

best friend.

you sniffled softly, which made his attention shift from your eyes to the small tear falling down your cheek in the dim lighting of the street light, “i just feel so… dumb.”

he raised an eyebrow, “why do you feel, dumb?”

he absentmindedly reached out and wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head and backing away from his touch.

he looked at you confused, a hint of hurt in his eyes as he watched you cry in front of him. he was wracking his brain, trying to figure out where he went wrong. trying to understand what you meant with your words, all while trying not to make himself feel like he was the reason for your tears.

you opened the car door, the rain smacking the pavement as you stepped out, “i can’t,”

he watched as you closed the car door, stepping out into the night sky and cold rain. he sat there for a second, his brain unable to catch up to what had just happened. his brain caught up, opening his own door as he chased after you into the freezing cold rain.

“y/n!”

you didn’t want to turn around, your tears mixing with the rain on your face. he was faster than you, though, grabbing your hand and holding you back from walking away from him. he spun you back to face him, your face glowing under the street light as he noticed how broken you look.

“what’s wrong!” he yelled over the pouring rain, “please, don’t shut me out!”

you let out a quiet sob, “i can’t do this right now, lando!”

he stood in front of you, frozen, as you repeated yourself, softer now, “i can’t keep doing this to myself.”

he shook his head, “what’re you talking about?!”

“just say it!” you shouted back, “just say you don’t really want me so i can move on and forget about it and we can go back like nothing ever happened!”

“what makes you think i want that?” he asked, “y/n, why do you think i come back to london instead of monaco whenever i have a break? because i want to see you!”

“not for the same reason i want to see you!”

“you don’t know that!”

you cried softly, turning away from him as he approached you again, taking your face into his hands. your eyes met yours as he spoke again, “y/n, i come back home to you because you’re all i think about when im not with you. every little thing i do, i think about you.”

you watched as his eyes scanned yours, begging for you to speak. he spoke first, though, “you’re all i think about, every night, every day. i should’ve told you how i felt sooner instead of dragging you on, but i’m falling in love with you.”

you shook your head, backing away from his touch again, “don’t,”

“don’t what?” he asked, “tell you i’m in love with you?”

“don’t say it if you don’t mean it. please, don’t say it just to make me feel better.”

“for one second can you just stand here and actually listen to me?” he sighed, “can you let yourself understand that there’s someone who actually loves you, standing right in front of you telling you. someone who’s ready to drop everything and show you.”

he reached for your hand and pulled you closer to him again, but this time you didn’t back away. he was so close to knocking down the final wall you had put up, so close to knocking down the walls you had put up as a sense of security. to keep yourself guarded, too scared to wear your heart on your sleeve once again.

but here he was, your best friend of all people, standing here in the pouring rain and giving you the fairytale moment you had always hoped for. the boy with curly brown hair and gorgeous green eyes was everything you could’ve ever wanted. everything you dreamed about, every future map you’d come up with in your journal, it always had him in it. one way or another, the two of you were meant to be.

two souls intertwined. that was you and him.

“lando-“

“i fucking love you,” he said, “so much that it physically hurts. like my chest gets all tight, and it feels like i can’t breathe-“

“lan-“

“and that night in singapore was when i realized you were the person i wanted to be with. not the models or the girls who throw themselves at me, i want to be with you. the one who knows my favorite flavor of ice cream, the one who knows all my greatest fears and all my secrets. the one who doesn’t judge me and i can talk to about anything. it’s you. it always has been, i’ve just been to blind to see it.”

the final wall came crashing down as you said his name, “lando,”

he hummed, his heart damn near flying out of his chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your face so close to his as you mumbled a soft, “kiss me.”

he didn’t give it a second thought, immediately pressing his lips to yours. you kissed him back, the rain long forgotten about as the water from his hair dripped onto your forehead. he put every ounce of longing, passion and love into the kiss, a kiss nothing like the ones you had both shared before.

he pulled away, his forehead against yours, “you don’t have to say it back, but now you know that i love you.”

you pulled him back to you by his jacket, “i love you.”

he smiled before his lips were pressed back against yours. and you stood there, kissing in the rain, and everything felt like a scene straight out of a movie. the feeling something new to you no longer felt scary, or intimidating. it felt safe and warm.

and it was all because of him.

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kingofthe-egirls · 9 months

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GEAR 5: LUFFY x Y/N

!!! SPOILERS !!!

(cw: reader is a survivor, sex, gear 5 luffy, sweet, kissing, creampie)

(a/n: big trigger warning here. working through my own past with luffy to help me. ah.)

Songs: "Have One On Me" by Joanna Newsom, "South London Forever" by Florence + the Machine

words: 1.2k

"M'gonna go slow, kay?" Luffy soothes his hand over your belly. You're fluttery and shaky, breaths coming in shallow gasps as your boyfriend kneels over you. Your legs are spread wide, bare for him after hours of foreplay. You're ready, you tell yourself, I'm ready.

"Gonna give you a new memory, okay?" Luffy asks you, his eyes wide and shining as he waits for your permission. You nod.

"Ready."

Luffy leans down to kiss you, fluttering his fingers over your cheeks. "Ya sure? You look kinda scared, y/n. I don't wanna do anything you don't wanna do," he frowns, tilting his head. His hair is all spiky in the black night, barely lit at all by the starlight filtering in through the cabin window. It's a new moon, tonight.

Scared.

"M'not scared with you," you mumble, swinging your knees up and down. He's sitting between your legs, his strong form naked in front of you. He's tracing his fingers down your abdomen, softly drawing invisible spirals on your skin. "Just...scared it'll happen again."

"I've got ya, y/n."

"I know," you say, squeezing your eyes shut. You reach up, making grabby hands for him in the darkness. He leans his face into your waiting hands, letting you squish in his cheeks. He giggles.

He shifts, bringing the hot skin of his thighs closer to yours, as he wraps your legs up in his arms. He leans down, kissing along your inner thighs: first one, then the other. His eyes glint up in the darkness as he surveys your expressions. "How's that?"

"Better," you say, nodding. He's been eating you out for hours, and you've been playing with him, too. You've both been dancing around the idea of sex for a while, now. He's had it before, and so have you. His experiences were a lot less...traumatizing. Than yours have been.

"Here," he says, pressing his hand onto your lower belly. "I'm gonna...stretch ya a lil bit. Just so it doesn't hurt, okay?" His fingers are soft, as he strokes his thumb over the coarse hairs at the apex of your thighs. He holds your knee in his other warm hand.

"S-stretch?"

"Like this," he soothes, his hair starting to turn white. His eyes glow pink, and you gasp. You don't know how much energy his fifth gear takes, but--you don't want him to waste it on you.

"N-no, Luffy! That's too much for you," you try to say, try to sit up, but he pushes you down. He gazes at you, seriously.

"Don't trust me?"

You stop, cowed. "I trust you, captain."

He grins. "Good!"

His transformation is nearly complete, with white hair floating around his face. His clothes have turned a brilliant pearl, too. His sash is violet; his skin is almond and honey. Something sweet you'd stir into your tea. He leans forward to kiss you again.

Luffy's lips taste like skin.

"Here," he whispers, tracing his fingers over your breasts between the two of you. He swipes over your clit, dragging his hand down and over your shaking body. "D'ya want me, y/n?"

"Of course," you whisper, reaching your arms around his neck. He smells like apples. You feel yourself getting pulled into the gravity of him, his electric elasticity stretching you out at the corners of your being. It's funny, you think, wriggling a little in his grasp.

"Feels funny," you say, smiling. He snickers, lining himself up with your entrance. His thumb is stroking over your pelvis, and you feel yourself start to relax. It's--warm. It feels like when you drink sake, a little, except your head doesn't hurt. Your head feels light as feathers. Your body is relaxed, too. All warm and goopy as he starts to press inside you. You gasp.

"Oh!" You say, arching forward. Luffy catches you around the shoulders, his hand splayed at your lower back. "I didn't know!!" You start, and stop. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. I didn't know it would feel so good.

Luffy hums. "How's that?"

He's staring at your face, his own blush starting to form around his honey cheeks. You reach up to play with the ends of his floaty hair. You feel drunk. "It's hot," you say, giggling, "That you love me like this."

Luffy beams.

"Course," he growls, hiding his face in your neck. He breathes in deeply, slipping out his tongue to taste your skin. He likes biting you a lot, apparently. "How could I not?"

He snaps his hips, starting to fuck you in earnest.

It feels--good.

It feels weird, to have your body bouncing around like this. Your tits are shaking, your hips are shuddering, all the fleshy parts of your body are jiggling around as he softly thrusts into you. You want him to fuck you harder, now.

"Harder, Luffy," you say, fisting your hand in his hair. It feels like feathers. You want to start a pillow fight. Luffy giggles, and a puff of downy white feathers explode behind you. He's sacrificed one of his pillows apparently, you dimly think as soft white fluffs flutter down around you. They fill your vision like snowflakes.

He speeds up, thrusting into you in missionary as he holds you in both arms. He kisses up your neck, all along your cheeks. His lips are puffy and warm, and you hum into his affections with unbridled joy. He loves when you just accept his love. He has so much to give you, you can barely contain it all. Your heart is overflowing with it, spilling out from a golden chalice in salty, shimmery waves.

"Feels good, kitty?"

Luffy pants into your shoulder, biting softly at your skin. He's always covering you in hickeys, which the crew had started to make fun of at first, but had quickly lost interest in. Since you're always covered in hickeys now, it's no fun to tease you over it anymore.

"Feels so good, Luffy," you say, meeting his hips with thrusts of your own. It's slow, and steady, but your orgasm is building up behind your knees. It creeps up, up your legs and explodes between them.

"Oh!" You gasp, mouth falling open as you spasm around his length, "Fuck, Luffy, that feels so good--"

"Cum for me, angel," he whispers, voice hoarse. He's not lost to the pleasure, either. He grunts, holding your hair in one hand while the other snakes around your waist in loops. The white fluffs of feathers have settled now, intermingling with the fluffy white behind his head.

He glitters for a moment, pink hearts sparkling into being around his flushed face. They sizzle and pop, little magenta pleasures that fizz through the air as he gets closer to his climax.

"Love you, Luffy," you say, fireworks now dancing at the edges of your vision. You giggle, drunk on his love and the pleasure that's coursing through your body. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt, at all.

His eyes are pink hearts, now, as he gasps and pants and moans out your name. He's so in love with you.

"Fuck, kitty--," he rasps, speeding up his sweet, sweet pace. "Love when you're so wet for me, love when you take it so so good for me, fuck--" He cums into your core, his face buried in your chest. He whines, bucking into you for the lasting waves of his orgasm.

You clench around him, letting the shivers of aftermath push you over the edge another time, too.

Hearts fizzle out of existence as his hair fades back to black.

The feathers around you are now just feathers, and the two of you are now just lovers, tangled together in his bed.

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

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Hi Barbie II

Jana Fernández x Vilamala!Reader

Summary: Bruna interrupts

"Oh my god! Hands where I can see them! God!"

Jana jumps out of her skin at her best friend's voice, nearly landing on the floor as you tilt your head back to look at your sister.

"We're cuddling? Can't we cuddle anymore?"

"Not with Jana!" Bruna laughs as Jana's face burns red. "She might just combust! Did you know how many years she's been dreaming about doing this with you? Who knows what will happen?"

"Leave us alone, Bruna," You grouse," What are you even doing here? This is my place."

"Which is another thing," Bruna says as she goes straight into the kitchen to grab some food," You're living in London until the end of the season. Why have you still got this place?"

"The loan isn't long term," You reply," I needed a place to come back to. What about you? You don't even have a key."

Bruna shrugs. "I had one made when I house sat. You're got good sunlight here."

You roll your eyes and turn to look back at Jana. "Sorry, I didn't know she would be stopping by."

"It's okay." Jana's voice is barely above a whisper and her face is still red. The embarrassment seeps into her bones and settles there as she readjusts her position.

This whole afternoon was like something out of the most perfect of daydreams. She'd had the day off from rehab and you weren't needed at Arsenal until next week so you picked her up from her apartment to have lunch.

You went from lunch to the market to a cute coffee shop and then back to your place to mindlessly watch tv as you talked.

Jana has been on cloud nine all day. She can scarcely accept that this was truly her life, that her long-term crush was dating her and you were having nice domestic moments like this.

Trust Bruna to bring her straight back down to earth.

"Don't you have training?" Jana asks and Bruna flashes her a smile.

"Why? Don't you want to see me? Aren't we best friends, Jana?"

Jana can feel her cheeks turn even more red than before (something that she wasn't sure was even possible) as Bruna hops over the back of the sofa and tries to squish her way between you both.

"Hey!" Jana complains as Bruna tries to push her out of the way, shoving her right back in annoyance.

She keeps fighting before breaking off when you throw your head back to laugh. She's star-struck for a moment.

Sun is filtering in through the windows and hitting you just right for it to look like you're glowing and Jana can do nothing but stare even as Bruna keeps swatting at her.

"You're so gross!" She was complaining but Jana isn't listening as she focusses on you.

You're still laughing, head thrown back and you tilt it to make eye contact.

It causes Jana to smile too and you reach over Bruna to grab Jana's hip, pulling her up and over your sister to settle on your lap.

The movement is unexpected but the feeling is nice and Jana feels herself go completely limp as you manoeuvre her the position you want.

Bruna pretends to gag but, thankfully, doesn't comment as she grabs the remote to channel surf.

You don't even glance at her as your whole attention goes to Jana, whose brain has finally caught up with her body when she realises the position that she's in.

Again, Jana thought it was impossible to grow even redder than before but it's like her body doesn't believe in its own limits and her blush grows ever deeper.

You're still smiling at her, eyes never straying, and your hands are still on her hips.

Jana smiles back before growing embarrassed and looking away.

"You're so cute," You whisper, chasing her lips with your own and giving her a soft peck.

You both chance a look at Bruna, who hasn't even noticed, so you steal another and then another.

"Should we get out of here?" You ask," There's this nice coffee place that Ingrid showed me last year."

Jana bites her lap. "And Bruna stays here?"

"Definitely."

"Let's go."

Jana is loath to leave the safety of your hands on her hips but she laces your fingers with hers and suddenly feels settled again.

"Bruna," You call out when you're by the door," Me and Jana are heading out."

"Why? Can't make out with me here?"

You roll your eyes. "No but we might do that when we come back. I'll text you so you can leave in time."

"Ha! As if!"

You shrug and pull Jana through the door, swinging your joined hands. "It's on your head if you see something you don't want to."

#woso x reader #jana fernandez x reader #jana fernandez #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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fayes-fics · 3 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 11 - Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... a little bit of kissing interruptus.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is a slightly transitional chapter after the seismic events in Chapter 10. Our couple have no regrets but cannot get time alone as our intrepid trio journeys to Aubrey Hall. Yes, here beginnith our latest trope: secret relationship! Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Portsmouth, UK, September 1939

Waking up in Benedict’s arms for a second time is a thoroughly different experience, a handsome smile creasing his face.

“Good morning,” he rumbles, and you feel it buzz in your cheekbone resting on his pectoral.

“Good morning,” you whisper, tilting to kiss his lips.

You want to burrow into his warmth, his naked body, curl around him like a vine. Forget the world; just exist with him here in this warm cocoon. His hand slides up your back, pulling you snugger into him as you kiss - languid, sensual, tongues touching, a stirring you can feel between your legs and in him where your thigh is draped over his lap.

Just as you are about to get lost in this, in him, there is a rapid-fire knocking on the door.

“Wakey, wakey, lazy bones! Let me in!” Eloise’s voice calls, muffled in the corridor outside.

You both swing your heads towards the door, then back to each other in almost comic unison, jumping apart as if burned, exchanging panicked looks as you scurry out of bed.

“Give me a minute,” Benedict grouses loudly for her benefit.

Then, there is a flurry of hushed movement as you fling open suitcases and rapidly throw on the nearest clothing. ‘Bed!’ you mouth, signalling for him to help. You work together in unison to make the bed, not to the point it doesn't look slept in, but certainly not the tangle of sheets from tumultuous lovemaking that it was. Belatedly, you realise you should have put a makeshift pile on the floor as if he slept there.

It's less than a minute from when you were naked in each other’s arms to Benedict opening the door to Eloise, you on the other side of the room attempting nonchalance. She wanders in, looking blissed out but also a little worse for wear, an apparent hangover clinging to her edges as she retrieves a hairbrush from her suitcase. You want to ask how her night was, but her frown stops you.

“Doesn’t look like anyone slept on the floor…” she comments suspiciously as she pulls up to the mirror.

“I am, in fact, capable of tidying away blankets and pillows after I use them, sister,” Benedict sighs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window. “It is what I was doing when you so rudely woke up half the hotel, in fact,” he lies.

Eloise sticks her tongue out at him in the mirror, which he roundly ignores.

“Your brother is a true gentleman,” you defend, staying intentionally vague, standing behind her and using the mirror as well to touch up your appearance.

It's your turn to receive the Eloise look of scornful derision before you steer to a new, safer topic.

“So, how was your night with Phillip?” you tease affably.

“Oh, he’s wonderful,” a wistful look claiming her face. A secret little smile you have never seen before. “We had such a memorable night.”

“Aaaand I don’t need to hear this,” Benedict deadpans. “I’ll see you ladies downstairs for breakfast…” is his parting shot as he heads for the door.

But as Eloise leans down to grab a hairpin, launching into a whole story, he winks at you in the reflection, and your heart skips a beat.

——

“So, ready to party your life away in London?” Eloise chirps as the train trundles through rural Hampshire a few hours later. “It's not Paris, but it will do….”

“I thought we were going to your country home?” you frown.

“Well, yes, for a few days. But we can head back up to Bridgerton House for the weekend,” Eloise grins. “Phillip might be in town by then….” You chuckle at her lack of subtlety. “And we can find you a nice man!” she adds.

There is a scrunch of a newspaper diagonally across from you as Benedict’s grip tightens on the broadsheet he is holding, his face wholly obscured behind it.

“Oh, I don't know..” you attempt to laugh it off. “I think I might give that whole party lifestyle a rest.”

“Nonsense! You are not really a married lady, you know,” Eloise withers, rolling her eyes. “And you can take that off now,” she nods to your ring finger.

“Oh…” you fumble, touching it instinctively, the soft lamplight within the compartment making the gold glint brightly. “I thought it safer to wear it while we are still in transit,” you bluff, knowing Benedict is paying full attention to your conversation now, even as he hides behind The Times.

She frowns. “You have your residency now. The British government will not bother tracking you down with this war effort. You could get divorced tomorrow, and literally, nothing would happen,” she opines imperiously as if suddenly an expert on immigration matters.

“Better safe than sorry, Eloise,” Benedict pipes up, folding down the paper and removing his reading glasses with that lecturing elder brother air. His ring catches the sunlight as he does, making something bloom in your ribs to see it.

Just as Eloise goes to dispute it, her face instead lights up from the passing trolley service. “Oooh, snacks!” she exclaims distractedly, craning to look out into the corridor, allowing you to smile your thanks softly at Benedict unseen. His responding lopsided smile has your stomach vaulting.

Then Eloise is on her feet, chasing the attendant that rumbled past your compartment, apparently keen for refreshments. As soon as she is out of sight, you reach a hand across to him. He leans forward and grasps it with both of his.

“We will have time alone at Aubrey Hall, I promise,” he whispers earnestly, his eyes imploring, bringing your hand to his lips and making you stutter as he brushes warm lips over the back of your fingers.

“I want to touch you, Benedict…” you confess ardently, “all the time. So very much…”

His face is a storm of bridled intensity at your words, his pupils dilating rapidly. “As do I….” his words impassioned, even as his expression clouds wincingly, and you know where his thoughts have slid.

“But, Eloise…” you nod, understanding, reluctantly withdrawing your hand and sitting back, a tingle still on your fingers from his lips.

There is no way either of you wants to raise what is happening or what has happened yet. Neither of you is sure of anything except this magnetic pull between you—yearning to be together, alone.

“Yes…” he sighs, pained, slumping back into his seat just as the lady in question twirls back in, hands full with Cadbury's bars and a Fry’s Peppermint Cream.

“I thought you hated Peppermint Cream?” Benedict frowns as Eloise hands you both a Cadbury and immediately unwraps the Fry’s bar for herself, taking a big bite.

“I may be reassessing its merits,” she sniffs before leaning in to whisper to you, muffled around her mouthful. “It’s Phillip's favourite,” she divulges before staring dreamily out the window.

You have never known Eloise to change her mind about anything in the time you have known her, especially not from a man’s opinion. You just shrug at Benedict, conveying your equal surprise. Clearly, this one might be a serious contender.

—

Walking the connecting overhead path to Waterloo Junction for your onward train to Kent, you are startled when Benedict grabs your hand and places it into his coat pocket. You soon realise in the glass reflection ahead that the swish of the open fabric means the connection of your hands is unseen.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you walk beside Eloise, her none the wiser as your palms grip each other, fingers laced. When you glance up at him briefly, you see the ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips, but he keeps looking ahead as if nothing unusual is happening.

You want to kiss the little dimple right there at his sheer genius.

—

The onward leg only takes an hour and is filled with amiable chat, mostly about books and films. Soon, you are alighting the train at a charming rural village stop, the platform ablaze with neatly potted late summer plants of reds and yellows.

But you are struck with a sudden wave of nerves as a sleek car awaits you. You are not long away from meeting the rest of the Bridgerton family. Strictly, your family now too.

“Does anyone know?” You ask Eloise as the driver loads your cases into the boot.

“Know what?”

“That Benedict and I are married…?” You spell out, surprised she didn’t follow your train of thought.

“Oh. Well. I didn’t call or telegram,” she twists to look at Benedict as he places your day bag on top of his. “Did you tell mother?”

He scoffs. “God, no. Not something I could begin to explain over the phone.”

“So what do we say? Or do?” You ask, subconsciously toying with your ring.

Benedict walks over and places comforting hands on your shoulders. It takes all of your willpower not to lean into him. “Don't worry. Follow my lead. I don’t think we can or should lie.”

Less than a minute into the car ride, you sandwiched between the siblings, Eloise’s eyes flutter closed, face lolling against the glass. You signal to Benedict, and when he twists to see, his hand grabs your kneecap, fingers wrapping around and caressing the ticklish skin near the crease at the back of your knee. Something about this stolen moment is exciting, elicit, and endlessly arousing.

“I cannot go more than an hour in your presence without wanting to touch you,” he whispers, leaning close, his words a hot gust into your ear that has you melting.

“Same,” you murmur back, your hand sliding over his, mapping the raised veins with your fingertips, memories of the last night tumbling through your mind, those strong hands running over your naked flesh, grasping. It makes your breath hitch audibly.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice is a honeyed rumble that makes every hair on your forearms stand on end. He probably knows, but you confirm it anyway.

“Last night…” you mouth, turning your face into him so his lips brush your cheek. His grip tightens, and his breath rags into your hair.

“It's all I have thought about since…” he confesses; your chest flutters as his hand slides a fraction higher on your leg, playing with your hem. Every fibre of your being is calling for him. You want him to keep going, slide all the way up your thighs and touch you… but Eloise stirs, and instantly, his touch is gone, and you are left bereft.

—

To call Aubrey Hall a country house is ridiculous. Your jaw drops as the car sweeps up a long gravel driveway to an enormous, handsome pile of a manor estate.

“Oh my god, Eloise,” you smack her arm lightly. “How rich are you!?”

She laughs. “What, that my brother is a Viscount doesn't give that away?” she guffaws.

“Well, I thought maybe it was an honourary title or something…” you mutter, feeling slightly embarrassed you don't know the full ins and outs of the British aristocracy you have clearly married into, entirely without knowing.

“Don't be intimidated,” Benedict soothes. “We are just a large family who inherited a big pile. I promise we aren't stuffy or cold.” You want to squeeze his hand for being so empathetic and reassuring.

“Or inbred!” Eloise cackles as the car stops, and you notice a beautiful, elegant middle-aged woman waving from the steps.

“Our mother,” Benedict elucidates before Eloise throws the door open and jogs up to hug the lady, who looks overjoyed to be reunited with her daughter after months away. You can tell Eloise is happy, too, even if her joy is more understated.

Benedict is by your side when you are out of the vehicle. A pillar of support, even if not touching you.

“Mum…” Eloise pulls her down the steps. “This is y/n!”

“Oh, it's wonderful to meet you!” the lady greets, pulling you into a welcoming hug that smells lavender and lilac. “I have heard so much!”

“Same!” you chime back.

Then it is Benedict’s turn to hug her; you swear there is an extra glint in her eye as if he is her favourite. However, you notice he keeps his left hand in his pocket throughout.

“Thank you for bringing them back safe, darling,” she reaches up and pats his hair affectionately as if he is still a child, not a grown man in his late twenties.

“We would have made it home perfectly safe without him, mother,” Eloise gripes with her trademark mettle.

“Eloise Bridgerton, you would have absconded to Saint Tropez if your brother were not there. Don't even lie about that,” Violet chides lovingly, and you can't help but giggle.

“Don't take her side!” Elose decries.

“Come on, it's true,” you laugh, bumping her gently with your shoulder as you walk in through the doors.

It is a beautiful stately home, but at the same time, it seems less imposing on the inside; it looks lived in and loved. A house that is full of family and life.

“You will meet the rest of the family later today,” Violet advises. “Well, minus our brave Viscount, who is in London with Churchill, and Daphne, who lives with her husband.”

“And Fran,” Eloise adds.

“Yes, Francesca is staying with her cousins in Bath,” Violet counsels as she guides you into their parlour.

“She’s barely my sister,” Eloise jests, dropping onto a sofa and grabbing a glass of water from a carafe on the coffee table.

Violet just shoots her an exasperated look while offering you a seat, too. “Eloise told me you were engaged, not already married,” Violet addresses as you get comfortable.

Benedict springs from across the room. “Ahhh, about that….” he placates with his left hand aloft.

“Is that also a ring I see on your finger, Benedict Bridgerton?!” Violet splutters.

“Mother, I can explain….”

And thus, he recounts the events of the last few days. Violet listening intently, looking, in turn, shocked, dumbfounded and proud. Of course, Benedict omits the whole part of the fact you are together romantically. Well, sort of. You think. You are dying to be alone with him so you can talk. Or perhaps do other more exciting things. That idle thought makes your cheeks flush.

“I am so very grateful to your son, Viscountess Bridgerton,” you jump in as much as to steer your own wayward thoughts away from dangerous waters. “Without him, I would likely still be stuck in France, all alone.”

His eyes dance with warmth as you glance at him, wanting to grab his hand and lace your fingers. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Violet has the most intrigued look as she observes her son carefully—the all-knowing eye of a matriarch.

“Well, I am so grateful you are safe, my dear,” she turns to you. “And please, for goodness sake, call me Violet. You are welcome to remain with us as long as you need or desire. You are family now, after all. At least for as long as you wish to be considered such,” she concludes, seeming to choose her words very carefully.

“Thank you, Violet,” you murmur, so grateful, already feeling a warm glow from her hospitality. “I could not be more honoured to be here for as long as you will all have me,” your eyes drifting back to Benedict as you say it.

The tender look on his face makes you touch your wedding ring idly with your thumb, and your heart leaps as he does the same. Although you swear you can feel the weight of Violet’s stare as you do so.

Benedict taglist Pt 1: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @hanji-emo-blog @Huffelpuffforlife

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juneknight · 9 months

Text

Pleased to Please

The sequel (AKA Jake's Revenge) to Making Trouble.

About this: MK System/fem!reader, use of 'slut' as a term of endearment. An unnecessary amount of gloves. Jake Lockley.

You wake up to Marc pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You hum in pleasure, burrowing deeper into the covers, sleepy enough to miss what he says the first time he says it. His voice rumbles over you again, warm with mirth. His hands work the blanket away from your face, and he repeats himself again:

“I know it’s Sunday, but I have errands to run. Want to come with or stay in?”

You crack one eye open.

The two of you stand at the bus stop leaning against each other to make room for the others who crowd around for the same purpose. Someone jostles into you, and the look Marc gives them is cold—it makes strange butterflies unfold their wings in your belly. You lean in to press a kiss to his cheek, turning his focus back to you.

“What errands do you need to run?” you ask in his ear to make sure you are heard over the rumble of traffic.

“Swapping out supplies,” he says, explaining the duffle bag he has over one shoulder. “Boring stuff, but I’ll buy you coffee after.”

“Now you’re talking.”

The two of you shuffle your way onto the bus. He crowds you protectively, looping an arm around your waist to keep you close while his hand grips the bar to keep you both steady. You’ve gotten used to taking the bus after meeting Steven. Before him, you had walked or taken the tube, not the biggest fan of London drivers. Occasionally, you and Marc would go in on a cab together; you had never felt safe doing such a thing alone. And with Jake…

Your face flames. Leaning in to whisper in Marc’s ear again, you says: “It’s a shame we don’t have Jake’s car, isn’t it?”

Marc’s eyes go heavy-lidded, a smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth. He remembers as well as you do your activities in Jake’s car only days before. He glances towards the window of the bus—likely hearing some colorful commentary from the man in question—before turning his eyes back to yours.

“We’d just end up making more trouble in it, wouldn’t we?” he says back, letting his voice dip low under the guise of privacy, as if he doesn’t know what the timber of it does to you.

“You’re probably right,” you breathe back. “How much further ‘til our stop?”

“Not much. You’re already thinking about going back home aren’t you? Crawling back into bed?”

“As long as you join me.”

“My god, you two are better than television,” says the woman behind you both who has been clearly standing close enough to hear. You jump, startled by her sudden intrusion into your private conversation, embarrassment making your face burn hot. Thank god she had said something before the two of you really got going—

“Mind your business,” Marc says, uncharacteristically cold as he glares at the woman.

Middle-aged, clutching a recyclable tote in her arms, the woman looks like her first instinct is to argue back—perhaps something about how the two of you were making your business right there on a public bus—but the look on Marc’s face stops her words in her throat. She shuts her mouth with a click and nods, awkwardly trying to shuffle to a different spot on the bus to stand.

You frown up at Marc, but he smiles down at you like nothing is wrong. Reaching up, you lay the back of your hand against his forehead. “Are you feeling alright? You’re acting strange.”

It’s Marc’s turn to frown, his head tilting to one side, warm brown eyes roaming over your face.

“What do you mean?” he wonders But before you can answer, Marc glances forward and says: “Shit, this is us.”

He helps you press your way to the front and guides you two back out onto the dreary London street. You glance up at the building, frowning in thought.

“Storage units? Do you have a unit here?”

Marc just grins in answer, holding up a keyfob with the business’s logo on it.

The building is cool and quiet, sounds oddly muffled as you walk through the halls lined on either side with storage units. Occasionally you pass one with the door open, lock hanging loosely on the outside. You shiver. Places like this always make you feel odd, knowing how much history is here, each unit a snapshot of someone’s life. You cheer yourself with the thought that you’re about to see a snapshot of Marc’s.

When you arrive at unit #43, you bounce a little on your toes as Marc unlocks it and opens the door, a gentleman allowing you entrance first. But whatever you were expecting inside, you cannot help but be disappointed.

The unit is mostly empty, perhaps ten-by-ten. It is very utilitarian, with walls of alloyed metal shiny enough to see yourself in, even if your figure was a fraction distorted. A lightbulb hangs in the corner casting an unflattering fluorescent glow over the room. There are a series of storage totes, opaque to conceal their contents. A cot is in the corner, with a poor excuse for a pillow and a blanket folded with military precision.

“Do you sleep here sometimes?” you ask, baffled at the thought.

“I used to,” says Marc, going to the corner and setting his backpack down. He kneels, the zipper loud in the quiet of the unit. “It was a safe place, a place of my own, before Steven and I—reconciled.”

That makes you inexplicably sad, imagining Marc spending any length of time here, stretched out on a cot too short for him and listening to the hum of lights all night.

“That’s terrible,” you murmur.

Marc makes a sound in the back of his throat, derisive, clearly not feeling so maudlin about it. He says something, but you are too entranced by testing the cot, sitting heavily on its coarse fabric. It barely gives under your weight, unyielding and uncomfortable. At last you become aware of his gaze on you. You glance over to see him kneeling at his duffel bag, eyes glittering with some foreign emotion as he watches you.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” you ask.

“I said, Take your clothes off.”

You blink, unsure if you heard him properly. “What?”

“Do it slow,” he adds, his chin tipping down and the look in his eyes simmering into something condensed, something so heated that you can feel it from across the room the way you feel the heat of flames when standing too close to a fire. Shifting, he sits with his back against the wall, one leg outstretched. “I want a show.”

“I don’t—oh my god,” you whisper. “Jake? Has it been you this whole time?”

He runs a hand through his curls, pressing them back. The grin that settles on his mouth is so unlike Marc. At the beginning of your relationship, you had been so insecure that you would mix the boys up and potentially offend them, but you had quickly learned that such a thing was very unlikely. Each of their personalities was so unique, so distinct from the other: the way they stood (or slouched) the way they walked, the way they smiled and laughed—each of them had a million little tells, characteristics that set them apart.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says. His voice is a little flatter than Marc’s—less likely to fluctuate with emotion. It is softly accented; you know that he mostly prefers to speak Spanish. “I am very good at what I do.”

“You even took the bus—oh, Jake you hate the bus—”

He hums. “We’re walking home.”

“I just—why? I would have come with you anywhere.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“How can you say that?”

Jake looks up at you, brow cocked. From within the duffle bag, he removes his leather gloves and begins tugging them on. Those fucking gloves. Something about them makes your heart pound. The buttery softness of them, the scent of well-maintained authentic leather, the methodical,calculated way that he puts them on and takes them off. Or maybe it’s just the connotation that comes with them: that Jake is about to get his hands very, very dirty.

“Because you’re a good girl,” he croons. “If you had known Marc was taking you to my car, you wouldn’t have gone with him—just the same way you wouldn’t have come with me if you knew I was bringing you here for my revenge.”

“So this is Marc’s storage unit?” you breathe.

Jake nods slowly. He says: “You know what else I know?”

“What?”

“You’re such a good girl,” he says, voice soft, needing nearly no volume for the sound to carry to you just feet away, “You’re going to take your punishment without complaining. Because you know you deserve it, don’t you?”

“Jake,” you sigh shakily.

“Undress,” he says softly.

You stand up. Your knees are knocking together, you’re so full of adrenalin, hands shaking as you slip clothing item after item off. You fold them the way you know Jake likes you to, sitting them neatly on top of the stack of storage totes. As you turn, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the walls and it makes your face burn. Fuck, you hope that the helpful guy behind the desk out front doesn’t come to see what’s taking you both so long.

When your eyes find Jake again, you suck in a gasp. All the things you might have suspected he would have—the tripod wasn’t one. Sleek, it is simple but effective. He whistles a little beneath his breath as he fits Marc’s phone into it. When he realizes that you have stopped undressing, his whistling stops, lips puckered softly, dark eyes finding your own. Whatever expression you wear must delight him.

“Problem?”

“Come on, J,” you whisper, shifting on your socked feet. “Marc is going to be pissed enough, isn’t he? What do you plan to make him do, watch it in 3D?”

Jake points to the tripod, a look of near-comical innocence on his face. Some might not guess that Jake has the silliest humor of the three of them, sometimes bordering on cheesy or even slapstick. Demasiadas telenovelas, as he might say. “What, this? You think—? Oh, darling girl. This isn’t for Marc.

“The walls? Those are for Marc. Let him see the way I fuck you in every angle, I don’t care. But this? This is for me. I intend to remember this for a very long time,” he says, his words ending distractedly as he plays with Marc’s phone, getting the settings just right. He eyes your socks pointedly.

“It’s cold in here,” you gripe.

Jake snorts softly, but he doesn’t object. He stands and goes to you, gripping your bare shoulder gently and moving you a fraction this way—a hair that way. Into the best view of the camera, you realize. Being treated like some doll, stop-motion, only made to be bent and twisted into whatever shape pleases him has a surprising effect on you. Even as your thighs clench together tightly, you find yourself…bashful. Crossing your arms over your breasts, you shrink in on yourself.

“Qué es eso?” Jake wonders. He abandons the camera and comes to you. His presence is more comforting than intimidating the way some might imagine it to be. You lean your head against his chest and let his hands encircle your wrists, drawing them away from your chest. “Who is this shy woman? I remember the way you let Marc strip you naked with nothing but my tinted windows to protect your modesty.”

“You know how he gets,” you whine. “He uses that voice, that tone, and then I’m naked.”

“This voice?” he asks, mimicking Marc’s Chicagoan accent flawlessly. He slips into it the way you might slip into a comfortable shirt, familiar and well-worn. He leans back away from you a little to grip your chin firmly, to lift it up for his inspection. “This tone?”

It is. It really is. And as much as it makes your thighs clench, it drives you even wilder how easy it is for him. Jake is so fucking good at it, at pretending, at impersonating—his skill makes you swoon. It makes your heart pound. It makes your pussy wet.

Jake must sense this. Maybe he senses the ripple that seems to pass through you, or maybe he feels the goosebumps that rise on your arms. Either way, he laughs, soft and teasing, rumbling against where your bury your face in his chest.

He clicks his tongue at you until you look at him once more.

“I’ll play Marc for you another day,” he says, eyes growing steelier than the walls. “But right now—it’s me fucking you. I’m going to fuck my cock so deeply inside you that there won’t be any room for him. ¿Me entiendes?

“Now, lay on the cot. I’m hungry.”

Jake eats pussy masterfully, but true to character, he is a mess of contradictions. First he spreads your thighs wide, leather-clad thumbs finding your slippery outer folds to part you to his gaze. He lets go and leans in to suck and kiss at every part of you that isn’t your clit: sucking at your folds, tonguing your hole, kissing your thighs. He is clean shaven (like to keep up the charade of Marc), not a hint of painful stubble to chafe your sensitive pussy.

Jake leads with his tongue and lips, knowing how sensitive you are. For many long moments, he eats you without purpose, like he is giving you head just for the sake of it, no goalpost ahead to punt your orgasm through.

But then he becomes frantic, pressing his tongue as deeply into you as he can, sucking on your clit, dragging the flat of his teeth against your folds. He is lackadaisical and then frenzied, patient and then desperate.

The whole time, you have both hands over your mouth, nothing but the aborted gasps in your throat, the frantic breaths through your nose, and the wet, lurid sounds of Jake eating your pussy to fill up the quiet room.

When you get close, your heels dig into his back. He finally either gets bored with you or decides that he’s warmed you up enough. Your loud groan of protest has his eyes sharpening in a warning that makes you flush. He’s right, though. You have to be quiet.

Jake guides you into the next position he wants, and it’s almost unbearable: on your hands and knees, face towards the camera of Marc’s phone. Jake leaves you like that, on your hands and knees while he undresses slow and methodical, only the slightly warped imagine of him on the metal walls your visual..

Sometimes he says something, low and light and Spanish, before chuckling at whatever Marc’s response is.

“Is he mad?” You wonder, unsure what you want the answer to be.

“No,” Jake croons, kneeling behind you. He draws you up til you kneel, back pressed flush against his bare chest, cock hard between your thighs. In your ear, he says: “He is livid.”

“Jake,” you whine.

He clicks his tongue again. He holds up his hand in front of you, leather gloves still in place.

“Open your mouth.”

You open. Carefully, he has you tug the glove off with your teeth. He holds it while you do the same with the other. Then he makes you open your mouth so he can tuck the palms of his gloves between your teeth for you to hold.

“Drop those, and you’ll be punished,” Jake says, bare hands smoothing along your back, down your hips, finding your ass. He spanks you, once, hard. A warning that you feel all the way to your toes. “Leave a single mark from your teeth on my leather, and you’ll also be punished.”

You whine in dismay at this twist, trying to find the perfect balance between keeping the gloves in your mouth but not biting with enough force to leave a mark. Distracted by this, you miss whatever Jake says to his reflection, though his bright laugh at whatever its response is makes you shiver.

Gently, he urges you back onto your hands and knees. His cock nudges against the wetness between your legs. You make a desperate little sound, shifting, arching your back to offer his cock more contact with your pussy. The fire Jake had lit inside you with his mouth flares to life again, unsatisfied and aching.

“Can you take it?” Jake wonders, slipping and sliding along the seam of you, soaking his cock in your own arousal. “Or do you need my fingers to open you up?”

You try to answer him with the gloves, but the words are nothing but muted sounds. His cockhead, thick enough alone to be a pleasing stretch, presses at your entrance.

“What was that?” Jake wonders, cupping a hand to his ear.

No use in trying to tell him twice. Instead you press back, welcoming him into your body. Your eyes shut, and you nearly drop the gloves when your mouth craves to fall open and release a groan. It is by the skin of your teeth (pun intended) that you manage to keep the gloves in your mouth. You seethe with jealousy at the quiet but robust moan that Jake gives out, his fingers dimpling the skin of your hips with force as he grips you and pulls you back further and further on his cock.

“Impaciente,�� he reprimands breathily. “Who is fucking who? Are you fucking me? Go ahead then. Fuck me.”

Jake lets go of your hips, crossing his arms contemplatively across his chest. You whine, leaning forward and then sinking back onto his cock. The throaty hum that Jake gives makes you shiver, pleased to be pleasing him. You begin an unsure rhythm, rocking on and off his cock.

For a while, it is enough for Jake. But then he takes your hips in his broad hands again.

“Do you need help? Here.” He gives a series of near-brutal thrusts, the sound of his balls slapping your cunt loud in the enclosed room. You choke on a groan, head falling forward and eyes screwing shut with pleasure—and then a burst of pain across your scalp has your eyes opening as Jake tugs your head up. Back to face the camera. “Head up. I want to see your pretty face. I want to watch you wreck yourself on my cock.”

He makes you go on like that for an endless amount of time. Eventually you find a rhythm, making sure not to turn your face away from the camera as you rock back against his thighs, taking his cock to the root again and again.

“Why do you look so sour?” You make a confused sound. Jake’s hand smooths across your flank. His other hand points. “Not you. Him. You’re putting on an amazing show for him, and he isn’t even appreciating it.”

All of the sudden, there is a distant bang. You freeze, Jake’s cock halfway buried inside you. Distantly–so distantly, you can hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Behind you, Jake’s body begins to shake with quiet laughs even as your own seems to seize with terror at the thought of being caught. The lock for the unit only hangs loosely, offering the two of you no privacy should someone decide to investigate the noise and open the door.

Jake draws you up, lowering himself onto his haunches as he tugs you back against his chest. In your ear, he murmurs: “Perhaps Marc is the only person we should give a show to. Oh—oh no? You’re shaking your head, but your cunt can’t lie to me. Not when I know her so well. If you don’t want anyone to see what a beautiful little slut you are, then you had best keep quiet.”

Keep quiet—simple, except that he reaches down between your legs, fingers tracing along your stretched entrance, and then dragging up over your sensitive, otherwise-ignored clit. Your body jerks, desperate to get away from the sudden stimulus and desperate to get closer all at once. You whine, the sound echoing off the walls and back to you. It takes all of your fortitude to press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and try to stifle any further noises.

Jake takes your clit between his fingers and rubs softly, purring into the nape of your neck at the way your pussy spasms around his cock. In the distance, the footsteps draw closer, the quiet murmur of voices heard. Can they hear you as well as you can hear them? Fuck, you imagine they can. Your orgasm, so far denied of you, swells low and sweet in your belly, and you dread it just as much as you ache for it—

All at once, a warmth fills you, Jake’s cock twitching where it is buried deep inside you. He groans so quietly against your skin, trailing off into a little breathless laugh. The feel of his spend filling you has your cunt clenching, approaching that edge. But before you can let yourself trip over the ledge and down into pleasure’s abyss, Jake’s fingers freeze.

Did you hear that? a voice asks. Your heart pounds, entire body flashing hot and then cold with panic. Jake’s hand reaches up and wraps around you throat, fingers flexing gently in warning. As if you need one!

Rats, probably. City’s got ones bigger than your cock—not that that’s saying much.

You make too many jokes about my cock for a bloke who's straight.

The voices begin to fade away. Jake’s fingers relax, stroking the line of your throat softly.

“Good girl,” he murmurs in your ear. “Very good girl, keeping quiet, fucking me so good. Did you cum?”

As if he doesn’t already know. You shake your head, slow and emphatic, gloves flapping softly against your cheeks.

“Do you want to cum?”

A nod.

“Roll over. On your back. Shh, shh—I know it’s cold.”

You lay there shivering, looking up at him, the taste of leather on your tongue. You’re nearly shaking with need, thighs spread so he can kneel between them. He’s cum, but his cock hardly looks softened, flush and dark between his legs. Jake grips his cock and strokes himself a few times, the muscles in his belly tensing. He is so fucking hot, you feel like if you laid here long enough looking up at him, you would cum.

With his other hand, Jake reaches for Marc’s phone. He works it softly off of the tripod and turns the screen to face you, lets you look at yourself in the front facing camera. Your hands cover your eyes at the brief glimpse you catch of yourself looking so fucked-out, thighs splattered with pearly seed, cunt swollen, nipples hard, those fucking gloves held between your teeth.

Jake laughs softly as he takes the camera and turns it the proper direction so that he can film you. “Hands down, what did I say? I said I want to see your pretty face.”

Two of his fingers, thick and strong, slip inside you. Your hands fall away from your eyes, mouth going slack enough that the gloves slip dangerously and you have to tighten your lips to keep from dropping them altogether. Jake’s grin behind the phone is downright sinful as he takes obvious, obscene pleasure in your struggle. His fingers squelch as he begins a moderate pace of fucking you with them.

“All you have to do is ask me, and I’ll make you cum.” He pauses to slip his fingers from you and drag the mess of yourself up over your sensitive clit, delighting in your whine and writhe. “So go ahead and ask real pretty. I’m all ears.”

You ask, words severely muffled around the gloves.

“I can’t understand,” he says, pointing the phone towards your pussy in a move that has tears filling your eyes with how tightly your cunt grips at his fingers. You didn’t know you liked being filmed so much—wouldn’t have imagined such a thing in a thousand years. “Keep asking. I like to hear you struggle. Say, ‘Please make me cum, Jake’.”

You’re desperate enough to keep trying, feeling the muscles in your belly tighten, though you desperately wish he would stroke your clit. You would cum nearly straight away, you are so close to the precipice. You repeat his words.

“Who? Did you say—Marc?”

Your eyes widen in panic, head shaking furiously. You repeat his name again and again, though he puckers his lips to look doubtful. He slips his fingers out of you again and you nearly wail, desperate for the release you have worked so hard to earn. But instead of taking his hands away, Jake takes your slippery clit between his fingers again, working the little pleasurable knot with dextrous, merciless skill.

You cum before you know you are cumming, back arching against the chilly floor, barely aware of Jake tugging the gloves from between your teeth to hear the way your voice grits out his name. He rubs and softly pinches your most sensitive flesh until you are whining and shaking and whispering for him to stop, it is too much, you are too sensitive.

He adjusts the camera to take in your entire expression: dilated, heavy-lidded eyes, mouth swollen and parted, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Good girl,” he says again, soundly absurdly pleased. He sets the phone down, using the free hand to smooth softly across your trembling belly as you are riddled with spasms and shivers in the aftermath of your release.

Then, a sound you dread, one you dread more than even footsteps or voices:

Jake clicks his tongue in displeasure.

Eyes wet and wide, voice raspy from your whines and cries, you ask, “What is it?”

His eyes flash up to you, smile spreading slow and dangerous across his face. It makes you shiver, makes your pussy clench. He holds up his glove, pointing. “What is that? Hm? There, denting the leather.”

A toothmark.

“Looks like you are due for that punishment after all.”

Gripping both gloves loosely in one hand, Jake brings them down to spank your clit.

I'm currently raising money to afford the emergency care provided to my perpetual-pup who passed away on 8/25. Please consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed this; every penny goes to him. Reblogs are invaluable. And come leave a request in my inbox, if you'd like.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader

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kgficz · 9 months

Text

Safe With Me- Part 6

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You’ve been sent back in time, landing in 1919 in Birmingham. You’re busy trying to survive when Thomas Shelby approaches you in a bar.

Word Count: 1.2k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7

Driving back to your house had never felt as long as it had this time. You spent your time avoiding Tommy’s eye, staring out the window and praying this would all go away. You could never explain this to him, to anyone. No one was going to believe your story. Hell, even you felt like you were making this up.

The night felt cold, raising the hairs on your arms as you shivered. Was it the cold? Was it the nerves? It was difficult to pin point at this moment.

When the car arrived at the house, you didn’t wait for Thomas to open the door. You practically rushed from the vehicle, your heart still racing after speaking with Mr Kimber.

Thomas was quick behind you as you unlocked your door; not giving you the chance to kick him out. He followed you in, shutting the door behind him and looking you up and down.

“Y/N” he said; trying to get your attention as you roamed the room, picking up things you should take with you.

“Y/N!” He snapped, standing in front of you to make you acknowledge his presence.

“I have to get out of here” you panted, barely able to look at him. “I need to go back to London… I can’t-..” you continued, feeling your chest rise and fall quickly as you struggled to breathe.

Tommy placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place as he lowered his head a little.

“You need to talk to me, love” he said, feeling concerned by your anxiety.

You tried breathing slower, feeling the air entering your lungs as you attempted to calm down. Your vision was blurry as tears began to well up.

“I can’t..” you said quietly. “You wouldn’t understand” you added, looking down at his chest.

Thomas took in a deep breath, his hands dropping from your shoulders. He raised his hand to his chin, clearly thinking over what he should say.

“Tell me what happened back there” he said firmly.

You took in a deep breath and finally looked up at him. “I spoke with Mr Kimber…” you answered softly.

Thomas gave you a slight nod, waiting for you to continue. “He knows I don’t have any papers..” you continued, pressing your hand to your chest in another attempt to relax. “He knows I’m not from here, that I don’t belong here” you finished.

Tommy pursed his lips, already knowing this about you. His mind was racing, wondering how Billy Kimber also discovered this information.

“I can’t stay” you whispered, feeling a tear roll down your cheek.

Thomas sucked in a breath before raising his hand to your cheek, wiping the tear from your skin. “It’ll be alright, love” he reassured, tilting your head up.

Staying here was a mistake. You allowed your feelings to get in the way of what you needed to do. Your heart ached as you looked at him, wishing you could spill it all out; tell him everything.

“Just stay here tonight.” He said quietly.

He wanted to trust you, but how could he? You’d kept everything from him. He didn’t truly know who you were.

You watched him leave, not looking back this time before closing the door.

Hours passed as you sat still, staring at the wall as you went over all of your options. You need to get to London, however your lack of money certainly wasn’t going to help you get there.

A loud bang at the door startled you, pulling you from your thoughts as you turned towards the door. You didn’t think Tommy would be back so soon.

You got up slowly, still processing everything that was happening. When you opened the door, you were surprised to find Thomas was not there. Instead you saw a police officer standing before you.

“Y/N, I presume?” The man said, looking you up and down.

“Yes..” you answered softly, squinting your eyes at him.

“Mr Kimber gave us word of you..” he said, his eyes gazing over your face as he pursed his lips. “I’m going to need you to come with me” he finished.

“She’s not goin’ anywhere with you” a voice said behind the office.

The officer turned slowly, clearly annoyed to find Polly approaching him. “I know a dirty copper when I see one” she added before walking passed and standing in front of you, separating you from the officer.

“Mrs Shelby. I hadn’t expected to see you around these parts” the officer replied, frustrated to see her.

The two of them stared each other down before the officer let out a deep breath as he looked over at you. “I’ll be back for you” he grinned before walking away, leaving you with Polly.

Your heart felt as though it would burst from your chest. Polly turned around to face you, looking you over. “You alright, love?” She asked, causing you to nod slowly in response.

“What’s got some dirty coppers after ya?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she waited for your response.

“It’s Billy Kimber” you answered quickly, letting out a sigh. “I’m fucked” you muttered under your breath.

“That fuckin’ weasel” she replied, shaking her head before walking into your house; shutting the door behind you both.

“Does Tommy know about this” she asked.

“..sort of” you answered. “Not about the officer that just came by” you huffed.

“What does he want from ya?” She asked before sitting down and pouring herself a drink. You felt oddly relaxed in her presence.

“He found something out about me… that I don’t have any papers. No birth certificate.. nothing.” You answered quietly, watching Polly and waiting for her reaction.

“Hmm” she mumbled before taking a sip of whiskey. “You need to tell Thomas the truth, of why you’re here” she replied, placing the drink back down on the table.

You scanned her face as she lit a cigarette, bringing it to her lips and taking in a deep breath. Smoke filled the air as she exhaled, filling the space between you.

“They all call me superstitious, but there’s something about ya” she said, squinting her eyes at you. “You are not what you seem” she finished.

You let out a sigh. “You’re not wrong about that” you responded softly as she looked you over.

“If you care about Tommy, I suggest you talk to him” she said plainly. “If anyone can help you, it’s him love” she added matter of factly.

She stood up slowly, continuing to smoke her cigarette as she gazed around the room. You watched her carefully, a part of you wanting to divulge your story. Out of everyone, she seemed most likely to believe you. “What if he doesn’t believe me?” you asked quietly, looking down at the floor.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at ya. That boy would believe anything that came outta your mouth” she chuckled, blowing more cigarette smoke into the room. You gave her a small smile, not fully believing her words.

She made her way over to the door, looking back at you for a short moment. “Take care of yourself, love” she said before walking out the door.

Everything felt more complicated by the second.

Tags

@avalyaaa @globetrotter28 @buba424 @wildernessflora @naty-1001 @kitixie @elliot-chiken @geeky-politics-46 @nadloves @queenofshinigamis @tatumrileyslover

#thomas shelby fic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #Thomas Shelby imagine #tommy Shelby imagine #peaky blinders fic

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austinbutlerslovers · 3 months

Text

Lazy Day 69

Label Mature 18+

Austin returns home to you from an extensive international Masters of the Air press tour exhausted. He is so tired he lays on the couch all day just enjoying your company. Once he regains his strength he sets all his intentions on sexually gratifying you in a unique way a 69.

Established relationship girlfriend

Domestic bliss • fingering•69 (oral/ hand /male/female) •double simulation sex•suffocation• double cum eating• after care

Inspo: Private DM

lol this is so wild I will try to piece it all together 😂🙏🏻

📍 Austins house, Los Angeles CA

Lazy Day 69

You had Austin all to yourself again after a week of him being away for work. You were both in the living room of his Los Angeles house. He was laying comfortably on the couch resting with his hand across his abdomen as he watched TV.

He had just finished his press tour for Masters of the Air. Traveling from London to New York and finally back to Los Angeles. This was his first day home and he was completely exhausted. He would be starting his Dune press tour in 3 days heading to Mexico to start the rounds all over again

He wanted to do absolutely nothing but lay on the couch with the remote in his hand. He made it very clear to you in the morning after you showered and brushed your teeth together that he would be highly uneventful today. It made you smile as you wrapped your arms around him while he stood at the sink, he could entertain you with just a look.

He turned in your arms breaking your hold on him to hold you in instead. You looked up at his handsome face and his weary eyes. You carted your hands through his soft blonde locks. He gave you a quick kiss then you both continued your morning routine. He got dressed pulling on a soft white tee and sweats then clicked his phone on airplane mode as he went to the living room.

You replenish his snacks every few hours and bring him refreshed cold water. He says very little just polite thank yous and returns to his movie or show.

It was now late afternoon you had been engaged in your phone for over an hour. You stood up and stretched across from him in the living room yawning. You lifted your arms high over your head and tilted your body to the left then to the right.

You planned to run a few errands but he insisted you stay. He wanted your company, spending as much time with you as possible before he left again on his Dune press tour in a few days.

You were now throughly bored because he hadn’t interacted with you or moved a muscle in hours. You stare out the window into the central courtyard thinking maybe you could go to his favorite restaurant and pick up dinner for him. In the meantime you wanted to enjoy the fresh air outside.

You click the latch to unlock the glass door finally grabbing his attention. “Can you come lay with me for a minute” he asks gently. A smile spreads across your lips he is past the resting lion phase and now wants your physical touch phase. You turn around and gingerly walk to the couch climbing on top of him as he opens his arms to you.

You press your face against the soft fabric of his white tee on his firm chest. You place your hand on his bulging bicep and the other behind his neck.

He rests his hand lovingly on top of your head. One of your legs is straight between his, the other is up at his waist. He grabs your thigh at his waist holding it there. He rests his chin on your head. You can smell his sweet masculine scent from his neck as you listen to his slow breaths and his soft heart beat.

“Mmm I needed this” he says trailing his fingers through your hair. He plants a kiss on the crown of your head as he cradles you against him. The longer you lay together in silence the heavier your eyes get. The calming energy of each others closeness finally lulling you both to sleep.

When you awaken it’s dark outside and well past dinner time. You must have been asleep a few hours. Austin really needed the rest he still hasn’t stirred even after you remove his hand from your head and sit up in his lap.

You smile looking down at him sleeping his eyelids begin moving rapidly. His hand suddenly twitches and he grits his teeth dreaming. Maybe from all the traveling, maybe from all the interactions and stress. You place your hand on his caressing it until his face softens and his eyelids remain still.

You take your time carefully climbing off of him to make a quick dinner for your both. Mafalda pasta with vegan sun dried tomato sauce.

You turn on the burner and boil water then add the pasta to cook. You collect the jar of sun dried tomatoes in soaking oil and drop them in the processor with cashew nuts, nutritional yeast and tomato paste. He is sensitive to dairy so you’ve adapted all your recipes.

You click the ‘on’ button and the machine whirs to life blending the ingredients together making the sauce a beautiful fresh orange color.

The sound awakens Austin immediately and you feel awful. You watch as he sits up on the couch and groggily rubs his eyes then stretches into a yawn.“Austin I'm so sorry, I wanted to cook for us I didn’t mean to wake you” he smiles over at you it doesn’t bother him at all. He is very hungry and grateful you are cooking. He lumbers over as he wakes up and stands behind you hooking his arms around your waist and planting a kiss on top of your head. “Thank you baby I’m super hungry” his voice a deeper baritone from just waking up

When you don’t respond he watches you work seeing you are mid production. He takes a step back resting his hands on the counter top behind him to observe you cooking.

It’s one of your simple dishes when you can’t be bothered but want something yummy and satisfying. You drain the boiled pasta and pour your blended sauce in to the pan then add the pasta with a dash of seasoning mixing it all together until it’s coated nice and creamy.

Austin always helpful opens the cabinets getting to work setting the table. He goes to the wine cabinet and pairs a Cabernet Sauvignon. You bring the pan to the table and delicately tong the pasta onto each of your plates, setting the empty pan to soak in the sink. He uncorks the wine and lets it breathe before pouring you a glass. You taste it and love the full bodied flavor eagerly approving, he fills your glass then his own

You both sit down to enjoy the meal. It’s a quiet dinner you smile at each other as you eat. Austin is not his usual chatty self so you indulge in more wine. He refills your glass twice before cutely grinning knowing that you are going to get tipsy. He’ll have to match your pace. You smile at him sweetly and sip your glass slowly this time.

You watch him eat, it’s the cutest thing his cheeks puffy as he chews, he looks so adorable enjoying the meal you prepared he was so hungry. Once his plate is cleared you collect everything and put it in the sink as he finishes his wine.

Feeling quite full and mellow from the wine. You walk to his record player and unsleeve a disc putting the needle on gently and the song begins to play. You sway and dance around the living room sensually for him as he watches you with an enamored smile on his face. The wine clearly taking effect.

You extend your hand to him and he stands to wrap you in his arms before releasing you in a spin. He took dancing classes for a movie or play once you can’t remember which one but you love his effortless confidence and tricks when he slow dances with you.

He pulls you back close and brings your arms to wrap around his neck. You stare up at him loving the look of infatuation for you in his gentle blue eyes. He does a slow affectionate blink that he does when he’s enraptured, like he’s taking a mental picture.

You don’t know what he wants to do next but you see the thoughts forming in his pretty head as his lips form a little smirk. The song ends and you separate from him going to take the needle off and put the record away.

When you turn back he’s staring at you with quite the naughty look in his eye. “what is it baby?” You ask smile beaming as you walk over to him. He looks you up and down and grabs your waist pulling you in so close you are almost touching lips “Do you want to 69 with me right now ?” He asks so casually it catches you off guard.“Yea” you respond quickly as grin instantly forms on your face from his exciting request.

He takes your hand and leads you back to the master bedroom. He immediately begins stripping off his shirt pulling it over his head as you stare at his chiseled body. When he quickly pulls off his sweats you start pulling off all of your clothing too, down to your bra and panties.

He removes his boxers and you love the sight of his small naked hips with his large cock in between. You grin and bite your lower lip he is very hot just standing there letting your eyes wander over him. He turns and climbs onto the middle of the bed resting back on his elbows. He looks at the reaction on your face as he shows off his impressive cock standing tall between his muscular thighs waiting for you.

You unhook your bra and slide it down then pull off your panties stepping out of them. He stares at you eyes lidded with sexual attraction especially looking between your legs. He licks his lips knowing where he wants to taste ”You look so good come climb on top of me baby” he says it very seductively making you shiver.

You eagerly climb on the bed all the way up and over him flipping around directly over his face to start the 69. He extends his large hands and collects your thighs tracing his thumbs on your ass as you kneel above him inches from his face.

Your arms hold you up, your face lingering directly over his cock. “Fuck your pussy looks so good ” he says in worship and spreads your folds open inspecting with one hand and tracing circles on your tight entrance with the other.

You feel so vulnerable yet so aroused already becoming wet for him. He slides his fingers in surprising you. “OH!” You gasp. He reaches one hand around your hip pulling you back to rock in time with his fingers plunging in and out of you. It gives him a close up show making his cock swell harder beneath you. His tip is now blushing red from the sight of his fingers fucking you between your legs.

You hold his shaft and flick the head with your tongue. He’s so sensitive from arousal a small moan escapes his lips . You begin to stroke him off and lick the tip. He slips his fingers in and out of you in time with your hand. You both begin moaning in unison.

He pulls his fingers out and uses both hands to hold your hips and guide your pussy down onto his mouth “oh my god” you cry out when he connects between your legs.

His lips are so slippery and soft against yours. You try so stay focused as he eats you out but his wet hot licks and tight sucks have you clenching inside repeatedly. You are so distracted you realize you have just been holding his cock as you moan in satisfaction.

You want him to have pleasure too and dip your mouth onto the head of his cock. He makes a muffled moan against your folds loving the feel of your mouth as you finally begin to suck him.

He sticks out his tongue and licks circles around your entrance before sliding his face up and down licking your folds. You let out a pleasurable scream on his cock feeling it twitch your mouth as he moans in ravishment beneath you.

Your body is tingling ready to cum for him. You guide your mouth up and down on his legth until you are bobbing on his cock. His licks and sucks get sloppier as his groans get louder. He begins hotly panting against your folds as he licks trying to pleasure you as he falls into sexual ecstasy. Your nipples brushing against his abs each time finally break you into a climax. You release his cock from your mouth “Baby I’m going to cum!” you cry out.

He pulls you down to suffocate him wanting to completely devour you as you orgasm. He begins lifting his hips up thrusting his cock all the way in your mouth while pulling you back down on his face urging you to use him and ride his mouth until he cums.

It’s a cornucopia of pleasurable sensations for you both your core tightens as his dick pulses needing release. He licks you in just right spot that finally has you let go grinding down on his wanting mouth not caring if he can even breathe or not, just using his pretty face. He begins thrusting up into your mouth harder and faster feeling like his cock will explode as he gets dizzy from lack of oxygen.

The orgasm starts at the crown of your head tingling and pulsing through your entire body making your pelvis muscles contract. You are clenching inside from his tongue and lips as your clit presses against his firm chin. You cry out his name as you feel the tightness snap and you cum directly in his mouth. It makes him moan so deeply it vibrates your entire core. He slurps it out of you turning your legs into jello as you moan his name repeatedly.

You feebly try to lift off of him your legs so weak after the orgasm but he places his hand on your mid back holding you steady. He rams his cock into your mouth so hard you are gagging on it. You seal your lips around the head and wrap your fist around the shaft to soften his aggressive jutting.

He whimpers feeling your tight hand squeeze around his shaft as your mouth sucks his tip hard enough to draw cum. He makes depraved whimpering sounds against your folds and finally orgasms bursting rope after rope of cum coating your entire mouth as you moan and take it in one thick swallow. You release your mouth from his empty cock and immediately lift your hips. He takes a big breath, his chest expands and contracts as he regains oxygen to his lungs.

You come to his side and quickly check to make sure he is okay. A lazy smile is plastered on his glistening face looking like a cat who got into the cream. When your concerned face relaxes seeing that he is fine you both laugh.

You quickly grab a towel and clean him up gently wiping each side of his handsome face to make sure he looks perfect. You climb in bed next to him as he pulls the covers over you both laying face to face. You trace your fingers from his forehead through his hair with your nails “mmmm” he sounds out loving it as he closes his eyes. While he enjoys your loving touch a burning question forms in your mind.

“Austin after I came why wouldn’t you let me go?” you ask in amusement. The same lazy smile spreads across his face as before. He opens his eyes as he answers “I just felt so high, like I was seeing stars, you’re pussy is that good ” he confesses. He closes his eyes again reminiscing the moment. You interrupt his thoughts “Austin you almost passed out, so yes you could definitely say you were seeing stars” you both burst into laughter again. Once your laughing subsides he pulls you close and kisses your forehead smiling, he was eventful today after all.

~*End *~

Masterlist

.��️

@jessica987 @abswifey @austiebuttbutt @obsessedvibee @elvismylove04

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut fic #smut #austin butler fic #austinbutler #austin butler x fem!reader #fanfic #austin butler fandom #austinbutler x #austin butler reader #austin butler imagine #shamless smut #austin butler x you #fanfiction #shameless smut

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popquizhot-shot · 10 months

Text

Father Mine- 3

ok so this is where canon goes out the window, ive made my own universe, this might be blasphemy against marvel comics but i dont know. Honestly i made this up as i kept going and i like how this chapter ended<3 tell me how you like it! if you want a spoiler go to the tags and see what i've tagged :) part 1

You must have passed out because you wake up in someone’s living room.

“Anyone home?” You dare to call out. The apartment is sort of open-plan and if you had the energy to turn around and move you would have been able to see the man in the white suit staring at you.

“Yep. Hello!” The man walks up to you and you flinch at his strong southern london accent and glaring white suit that makes him look like a psycho Colonel Sanders, “I hope you’re alright, Khonshu said you were from another dimension?”

You reluctantly reply, “That’s right? And by Khonshu do you mean the actual Egyptian God?”

He nods excitedly, “Yea! Right twit he is!”

You look at him worriedly, maybe he is psycho colonel sanders after all.

He looks at himself in the mirror and does a double take, “Oh bollocks! No wonder you look scared!” The suit disappears to reveal a man with wild curls in an oversize t-shirt and pajamas, “sorry, sometimes I forget I still have it on.” He smiles nervously, “Um I’m Steven. With a V.”

That causes you to smile a little, maybe he’s not so bad, “Hello Steven.” You wave from your position on the couch and tell him your name.

Behind him you see a bony pigeon looking skeleton appear and your eyes widen, “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!” You point at it and scream.

Steven turns around, “That’s Khonshu, you can see him?”

“NO SHIT!” You web a wall and pull yourself up to stick to it, glaring at the offending creature.

“That’s mental.” He exclaims.

“What universe is this?” You ask him, eyes narrowed underneath your mask.

“Well, there’s no particular name for it.” Steven begins, but Khonshu intervenes, “How is it that you were able to traverse through the inter dimensional planes?”

“I knew someone who could.”

Suddenly Stevens demeanour changes and your spider sense tingles, you ready your webs against the potential threat.

The voice that comes out of Stevens mouth is not his. It’s the sound of the man who threw you here.

“Kid?” He says when you freeze and take your mask off, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re-You’re not Steven.” Your voice breaks at the familiar lilt.

He shakes his head, “My name is Marc.”

———————————-

“Miguel! Stop it!” Jess finally snaps and the man looks up at her.

She takes a hold of his hair and uses it to maneuver his face to look at him, “You either go and get her back, or you fucking move on. Because in this state there is no way you will be able to do anything. Get your shit together. ”

He gulps, not used to seeing her angry side often and nods.

“She thinks I’m a monster.” He looks down at his toes and breathes shakily.

“Then prove to her that you’re not. You’re her father, regardless of what she says, she still loves you. You need to apologize to her.” She looks at him pointedly and he sighs.

"What do you want me to say, 'Hey honey, I know what I did was wrong, I was wrong to chase a teenager and I was too blinded by my fear of losing my daughter again that I chased you away. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' Thats not going to be good enough."

"It's a start."

"Jessica." he looks up

"What?"

"I should have told you, something about her."

"What?"

"She's not a normal variant, even if her universe was destroyed. That fact alone makes her a special case. There's a reason I sent her to Earth 19999. Her atoms and dna will not glitch there. And I don't know why."

"Why didn't you send her there before?"

"It was too dangerous."

"As opposed to Earth 1999999?" Jess raises an eyebrow.

"Very similar universes, but everything is flipped."

The woman tilts her head, "What do you mean?"

————-

You sip on the hot tea Steven had made for you, glaring at the bony god sitting opposite you.

“I cannot send you back, child.” He says and you roll your eyes,

“As if I didn’t know that. The tea’s lovely, thank you.” You smile at Steven who beams at you. He’s much nicer than the American man living inside him. The one who was Miguel in this universe.

“Marc?”

He nods, “I happen to know of someone who can help you.”

You tilt your head, “Go on.”

He went to explain how he was on call as an Avenger, who were considered the world’s mightiest heroes, and how he was acquainted with someone known as Dr Strange.

As soon as he says, the name Strange, your mind considers the possibility that you might be in the universe of idiots, as Miguel calls it. Earth-1999999.

He’s spent whole hours explaining the entire storyline that honestly came out of a movie to you and while it was such, really Captain America you ditched your best friend to go be with someone who had already moved on? You were drawn to the universe.

It reminded you very much of your home universe that was destroyed.

When you’d nodded and said you’d be on your way he’d blocked you from leaving. Saying it was too dangerous and that you were being an irresponsible person.

You tried to reason with him but he was able to block your punches with efficiency, and he reached for your web slingers. The ones Miguel had given you.

That was currently why there was a purple bruise on Stevens’s cheek that you felt bad about. This sweet man didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of a hard punch. So you had helped him around the kitchen and he made you tea as a way of saying thank you.

“If you can’t take me away, you can atleast lead me to Strange, considering your own Knight isn’t letting me leave.”

“For good reason.”

“But it doesn’t make sense, without the watch I would be glitching every three seconds because the universe would not accept my genes. Here I haven’t glitched a single time.”

The god tilts his head and seems to contemplate your words, mimicking the man who looks at you with his head tilted, “Most interesting.”

Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as orange sparks began to appear out of thin air, forming a circle and then a portal out of which a man with a weird beard walks through. He nods at Steven and walks over to you, “So you’re the one huh?”

“No, your mom is.” You snarl, “Yes. Doctor Strange, I’ve heard of you.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, “Am I a common topic of conversation in the multiverse?”

“When we have to make fun of something yes.” You grin.

He rolls his eyes, “How did you arrive here?”

“Look I'd leave if I could, sir. But my device was taken away by the jerk who sent me here.”

His eyes narrow, “Sent you?”

Shit, you might have said the wrong thing.

------------------

"So you're not from here." The sorcerer supreme raises his eyebrow at you.

"No, sir." you're shocked at your politeness, but the man demands respect.

"And you cannot go back?"

"No."

"There is only one person now, who is capable of autonomous multiverse travel, America Chavez. And even her powers are not perfect. It is too risky to do this."

"What would you have me do then?" you ask.

"Wait here, there must be a reason you are not glitching. Maybe, you were meant to be sent here." Strange reasons.

His words make sense, honestly, maybe this universe would be your new home. Even back in Nueva York, you had to wear the watch at all times, or you'd be glitching.

But did Miguel know that? Because if he didn't know, then that would mean he'd sent you to your death.

You just nod at what Strange says, his words going in one year and out the other. You miss the way his eyes glint and flash. His shadow moving under him.

"She can stay with us at the tower." Steven puts his hand on your shoulder, looking directly at Strange, no smile on his face. After a few moments, the Doctor nods.

Your spider sense starts to tingle, and you glace at Steven, who only smiles at you. All teeth. Eyes that are blank. Devoid of emotion.

Now that you're here to stay, he looks like he's never been happier.

"You're going to enjoy yourself here, love." he pats your shoulder, "We'll all have a bit of fun."

You need to run.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #marc spector #atsv miguel #father mine #mini miguel<33 #mandela catalogue #atsv

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oopsdevil · 5 months

Text

simon ghost riley x f!reader (zombie apocalypse!au)

AUTUMN

the strong breeze of the night made its way through the broken windows as simon grabbed a big bag of rice off the back of a shelf and chuckled. oh, how easy was to make him happy these days. he kept trying his luck in the middle of the abandoned gas station, light bulbs about to give up, like everything else.

his shoulders tensed once again when he heard a noise behind him, its been happening all day. soap assured him over the radio that it must be his head, because then again, he's been awake for almost 40 hours. simon focused on the small print on the bag.

"is that the last one?"

the lieutenant dropped the food instantly and reached for his knife, quickly turning around to point to the persons throat. except he must have miscalculated, because his rusty machete was now barely scrapping the crown of her head. the bright eyed woman yelped.

"jesus man, you scared me!" the soft voice made simon hold his knife tighter.

"i- i scared you?" he spoke with a raspy voice.

he observed the stranger in front of him and tilted his head down. about a feet shorter than him and with a backpack bigger than her, the girl stared into his brown eyes, waiting for an answer.

"hello? is it the last one? i'm kinda starving"

her boots made their way through the dirty floors and right past the tall man, stretching her head to look over the shelves she could reach. she kept talking and ghost dropped the knife to his side when he realized.

"you've been following me all day"

he easily kept up with her when she turned to the next aisle.

"uh-huh, you ought to be more careful out there"

he laughed in disbelief. the nerve she had, he could've killed her in seconds. he was about to make his point when she interrupted, reading his mind.

"i knew you wouldn't hurt me"

"how could you possibly know that?"

"at first you seemed scary. but then you refused to kill that bunny a few hours ago and lied about it to the man on the radio"

simon felt his face getting pinker under the fabric of his mask and for once, was out of words. she finally took in the dangerous situation she put herself into.

"i just saw you today, i promise"

the tone on her voice indicated shame as she looked at his feet, and with that, he brought his knife back to its strap.

WINTER

"how close to christmas do you think we are?"

simon rolled his eyes, used to her non-sense questions. he told her to keep walking while dragging his heavy steps through the snow, he looked back at her and her red nose to make sure she wouldn't stay behind.

"c'mon lass. almost home"

home, a cabin really. simon thought about it often. he thought about her often. he didn't even know how it happened, about 2 months ago he hugged soap goodbye, who promised to make a trip to london and find both gaz and price, they prayed everyday their mates were alive, and simon was very grateful he was in scotland with johnny the first time seeing a flesh eating creature all those months ago. the lieutenant promised back to find supplies and keep the cabin standing. and yeah they make weekly 2 minutes calls, soap was moving slow but safely. however, ghost still hasn't told the sergeant about the girl who took his bed.

a noise brought him back to the present and knew what happened before even turning around.

"i told you to put on the snow boots"

his cheeky remark made her even angry, throwing the wood logs aside and power-walking into the house.

"wait, come back. there's still a lot of snow for you to faceplant-"

a snow ball flew right to his uncovered face. he shook his head and decided he deserved it.

SPRING

her head flew back and landed on the pillow, she covered her face with her hands and sighed.

"simon i know you are worried, but his radio probably broke"

he walked around the small kitchen with his own radio in hand and switched channels a sixth time.

"he would have find a way"

she stayed on the couch, biting her nails and looking attentive at him. she knew what was coming and she didn't like it one bit.

simon left the radio at the kitchen table and made his way to her. she looked away as he kneeled in front of her.

"you know i have to go get them"

tears threatened to fall off her waterline and kept deviating her eyes.

"lass... i need you to understand the situat-"

she roughly got up and walked to the window, distracting herself with the big green trees. it wasn't much help, ten minutes later a screaming match took place. simon couldn't tell her he wasn't about to put her in danger, and she refused to let him know the truth. he was the only one she had left.

"you don't know what is like out there!"

"oh?! and you do?! we haven't stepped outside scotland in a year, simon!-" she said, exasperated at this point.

"i've killed this things before! you can barely see one of them without shaking-"

"how do you suppose i can live this without you, then?!"

"love, i don't want to go either. and i know i promised johnny to stay here. but he would so the same for me. and i can't go get them if im constantly making sure you are alive"

she took offense and stormed to her bedroom to hid her tears, now running down her cheeks. simon catched up in a few steps and made himself as small as possible.

"sweetheart, eyes on me"

"you talk about me like im a burden-" a hiccups interrupted her barely understanding words, but he knew exactly what she said, and took her into his arms. a minute passed and he reached for her chin.

"look at me? you are not a burden, you are my priority and i refuse to get you killed"

he never looked into another person's eyes as much as he looked into hers. he was convinced he could draw them from memory at this point.

sadly (or not so much) his radio made a noise and they looked away.

"l.t.-... getting ther-... safe-..."

ghost's felt all the air come back to his lungs and yelled in relief, both running to the radio.

"jesus fucking chist, mactavish!"

he dropped to his knees next to the kitchen table and took the device in his large hands, she laughed hearing the static and the voice of an unknown man who kept complaining interrupted.

"weather is shite-... almost there-... fucking brits"

SUMMER

simon stared at the girls figure as she jumped into the now defrosted water body next to the cabin, ignoring the feeling of his white shirt sticking to his skin. he was glad she was finally enjoying the hot weather, his mind exhausted and guilty of knowing she was always cold. simon closed his eyes, taking in the sound of weather and hectares of nothingness.

"simon..."

"yeah?" he answered calmly.

he heard her getting off the pond quickly, her wet steps running through the grass to him. he opened his eyes and stood up in a second when he saw her worried eyes.

"whats wrong?"

she deviated her eyes behind him and he turned around, already making a mental plan of getting her out of here.

the girl now standing behind him, looked even more confused when she felt his shoulders drop under her hands.

"si?"

the lieutenant chuckled and grabbed her hand, standing beside her, her eyes softening at the sight of his own eyes watering.

simon kept looking at the view, the warm lights of the sunset revealing three dirty, limping, exhausted... familiar men, making their way to the cabin's porch.

"fucking hell"

#cod mw2 #cod hcs #cod mwii #cod #task force 141 #cod x reader #cod headcanons #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley headcanons #simon ghost riley #simon riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #cod fic

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xo-katana · 10 months

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ| Spider Punk Comes Home In A Bad Mood

Hobie climbs into the window of the shared one bedroom apartment, a small frown on his face as he throws his mask into the corner of the room.

Y/n looks at him with a frown, frantically getting up from their bed. “Hobie? You’re injured! Come, let me get you fixed up!”

“I got it!” He yells out before walking out of the room and into the kitchen for a cup of water.

Y/n follows Hobie with a commonly used first aid kit with a concerned look watching as he chugs a glass of water. “Hobie, what’s wrong?” Her voice soft and gentle.

“It doesn’t matter. Just go to sleep, it’s late.” Hobie spat out with an annoyed expression on his face, walking past her and into their living room.

Hobie sighs whilst plopping down on the couch, Y/n stands in front of him, a nervous look on her face. Her hands pulling on the sleeves of her shirt as she looks at Hobie kick his feet up on the coffee table, throwing his head back with a low groan. Y/n gathers the courage to sit beside him with her legs crossed, turning to face Hobie who doesn’t acknowledge her for a while. Getting fed up with her presence, he lets out a deep sigh before staring at her. “What the hell are you doing? Get to bed. It’s late for fucks sake.”

Y/n frowns before opening the first aid, grabbing sterilizing wipes. “Please don’t speak to me like that Hobie. I’m your girlfriend, not your child.”

Before Hobie can respond, Y/n grabs his chin and begins to sterilize his cuts and grazes on his face slowly moving to do his hands— cuts and dried blood on them. She prepares herself to hear Hobie fuss and complain but is content with how Hobie doesn’t fight back. In fact, his entire body seems to relax as his face muscles begin to return to its natural spot. “Hobie-”

“I don’t want to hear it Y/n. Not now.” Hobie said spreading his legs out a bit, his eyes closed as his breathing slows down.

Y/n shrugs before wrapping his wounds with bandages. As soon as she finishes, she looks over at Hobie who had seemingly fell asleep. She smiles to herself before putting the first aid kit away, joining Hobie on the couch once again. Resting her head on his chest, she listens to his heartbeat. The slow steady pace of his heartbeat sounding like a lullaby she’d listen to as a kid. Her eyes slowly shutting causing her to drift off to sleep.

A few hours pass. The moon fully on display and Y/n has yet to wake up. Unlike Y/n, Hobie was up yet didn’t move. His body froze in place as he wraps his arms around his girlfriend who snores peacefully. During the quiet moment, Hobie is in deep thought. Sighing as if realizing what he did earlier was wrong. Moving slightly causes Y/n to stir in her sleep a bit. She groans quietly, opening an eye to stare up at her lover with an unsure look. “Hobie?”

Sitting up, she rubs her eyes while yawning. Her body shifts to stare straight at Hobie who leans closer to her. “Hey love?”

She tilts her head a bit, humming in response. “I apologize for earlier. I should’ve just told you what was bothering me.”

Y/n smiles at him as he reaches to grab her hand. “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“Some villain got away today. That’s why I was in a bad mood.” Hobie says, looking at their intertwined hands. Her hand a bit smaller and softer compared to his large and calloused hands.

“But why are you being so hard on yourself?” Y/n leans in, a supportive look in her eyes as they dart from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes.

Hobie shook his head before staring up at her. “The day I met you was the day I told myself that I’d keep London the safest place on earth. Just for you. But hell, I couldn’t even do that.”

She places her forehead on his, a grin on her lips while her face gets a bit warm. “I’m sure you did everything you could’ve Hobie.”

He rolls his eyes sitting back up. “Nothing cool about letting a villain get away like that.”

Y/n looks at him with a smile. Chuckling, she moves herself to his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as her legs rest on the sides of Hobies thighs. “Well, you’ll always be my hero— which don’t quote me on it! I know you hate being called a hero! You’re human at the end of the day, we make mistakes love.” She says giving him butterfly kisses all over his face.

Hobie smiles, his hands relaxing on her waist as a low groan escapes his lips. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

She shrugs her shoulders while staying silent. Her head leaning to rest on his shoulder while he holds her closely. They share an intimate and silent moment together, their apartment peaceful and comfortably warm as Hobie embraces his girlfriend who had fallen asleep once again.

。・°°・(＞_＜)・°°・。

Very sorry if this is bad

#hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #atsv hobie #hobie headcanons #hobie x reader #hobie x you #hobie smut #spiderman #spider punk #self insert #y/n #spiderverse spoilers #hobie my beloved #hobie fanart #spiderverse 2 #x y/n #Spotify

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vyloy · 1 year

Note

Albert x reader dubcon pls :)))))

Albert James Moriarty

╰┈➤tw: dub-con, sub bottom male reader, kidnapping.

"Sherlock, you really have to focus on getting rid of *them*!", you say, a bit irritated due to how distracted he has been these past couple of months, it was all because of this one individual, William James Moriarty, an interesting fellow, although you have done your homework on him and his brothers, you weren't able to discover anything weird about them other than the fact they all made it out of a burning mansion with each other and nobody else, odd but not odd enough to tip you off. "I am! Just let me figure this out...And you're one to talk when you're always distracted by the brunette anyways", he says, not even turning around to face you, you were offended but couldnt deny the fact you've been interested in Albert but you've always focused on finding the brothers unlike Sherlock who has been focusing so much time on reading the newspapers about the crime lord or whatever, you understand it's important but not as important as the Moriartys quite literally sending a letter addressing the both of you, "Sherlock Holmes, we need to go", you say sternly, grabbing your coat and heading out in the dead of night, knowing Sherlock would follow you sooner or later.

Walking down the streets of London, you could hear the crawing of crows, really odd, they never craw unless there's danger-

Just as you were thinking about it, a dark figure runs past the alleyway beside you, you pause, realizing you should have never came out at might, especially not alone, you tried to brush it off, showing no fear as you walked back to the apartment, just as you were about to arrive safely, someone grabs you from behind, "Hey!-", "shh, be quiet if you will", the very much familiar voice hushes you, you try to remember whose voice it belongs to but fail to remember and just remain quiet. After a couple minutes of just standing there quietly, not making a sound, not that you could make much, the hand covering your mouth would muffle any sound you would make - the mysterious voice lets go of you, setting you free, you turn to look at the person and found a pair of green eyes staring back at you, "My apologies Mr L/n for having to cover your mouth like that, we couldn't have you screaming", "we?", just as you asked the question, you black out, probably due to the drug that was on Albert's gloves.

When you awoke, you were in a luxurious room, definitely more luxurious than what you could ever afford. You examined the room, still processing what had just happened and also trying to figure out whose manor you were in, it wasn't too hard to figure out it was the Moriarty's due to Albert being the last person you saw before passing out cold. You get up and walk around, examining things closer, of course you checked the windows first, removing the curtains and seeing if you could escape, unfortunately the windows are barred up in a way you wouldn't be able to escape even if you tried. You then checked the desk across from the bed, an ink pen, a few papers and also a candle were placed neatly ontop of said desk, making it look clean, 'this room is extravagant...', you thought to yourself, almost forgetting the fact that you were kidnapped, you shook your head and regained your composure, a knock on the door catches your attention as you quickly ran to the bed, pretending to still be asleep and hoping whoever walks in won't realize. "Hm?", a man's voice is heard, footsteps slowly walking beside the bed, "still asleep..?", he whispers to himself and not a moment later, footsteps are walking further and further away from you and the door is shut. As you thought you were in the clear, you opened your eyes, getting up, only to see Albert still standing in the room, a smile on his face as he notices your 'now awake' figure, "good evening Mr L/n", his smile stays the same as his head tilts a bit towards the left.

5 days have passed since you first arrived at the manor, the food has been exceptionally good, everything was set up in a way you could still enjoy yourself despite being kidnapped. It was now night time, you were reading a book and writing down some important things to do after you get out as Albert sits beside you, much of his attention is towards you. Suddenly, you hear someone entering the manor, as they speak, you can hear that it's clearly Sherlock, it seems Albert also heard as he is nervously fidgeting his fingers, "Y/n, forgive me", was all he says before grabbing your wrist, smudging your hand writing and pushes you onto the bed, "Albert?", you say in a confusing voice, why would he even push you onto the bed? "Do cooperate", he says before suddenly attacking your neck, licking it before biting down, "ACK!?", you try pushing him off but he's too strong, "shh", he says, still leaning on your neck, his nose brushing up against your neck gets you flustered, "Albert..! stop this!", you try to yell at him but his hand covers your mouth, muffling any sound from you, you eventually give up trying to fight back, hearing voices getting near the room, you try your best to stay quiet as Albert continues to mark your neck, "I heard some voices from here", "that was probably your imagination, please take your business downstairs, it is very impolite to barge into someone's room", you hear the voices of Sherlock and William, they seem to be fighting even if they're not raising their voices. The handle shakes, making your heart drop for a second but then you realized it's locked and the footsteps start fading into the distance. Albert finally looks at you, "did that scare you?", not knowing how to put it into words, you simply nod. Thinking this was over, you tried getting up, only to be blocked by Albert's body, his hand grabbing your wrist as you try to hit him, "my apologies but you're simply too delectable", was all he said before pushing you down yet again, undoing his tie with a smirk on his face.

"O-oh, good evening!", you stutter and blush a bit, embarrassed as you were caught in the act. Albert walks towards the bed, sitting on the bed and he apologizes, "I am very sorry to have to inconvenience you, I'm sure you and Mr Holmes have figured it out by now that...", he lets you finish the sentence, "that the Moriartys are the ones behind the lord of crime", "precisely", "that still doesn't explain why you kidnapped me all of a sudden", you demanded an answer, why would they keep YOU locked up and not Sherlock?, "It's obvious Mr Holmes cares for you but it's also obvious he'll do anything to stop my brother from doing the ultimate sacrifice, we need you to be a distraction as we can't allow our plan to be ruined", "so I'm a hostage?", "emm, if you put it like that..", he smiles nervously, not knowing what to say as you have figured out what he was trying to sugarcoat, "how long will i be held hostage?", "until the plan succeeds, at least a week and a half", "alright, you won't harm him in any way, right?", you ask with an intimidating expression, enough to make Albert a little more nervous, "we won't", "alright then, i'm okay with this, if you keep your promise".

With him being stronger, you had a hard time resisting against his lust but you would be lying if you said you didnt enjoy it even a bit, "A-Albert stop", "I'm sorry but i don't think i'll be able to, darling", as that nickname left his mouth, you melted a bit, the way he said it was full of lust, so inviting. The two of you were now so lost in lust, you couldn't even think anymore, did you want this? You had no answer to that question, too lost in the moment, "Y/n...please cry my name", he says just as he enters you, making you scream a bit, it was so sudden, you never even realized he had prepared you with his fingers just a few moments ago, your mind was just blank, "Albert..stop, stop this!", you cried out, you still took him so well, your hole just so tight around his cock, he couldn't stop even if he wanted to, your hole was inviting him, your cock dribbling with pre-cum, "please..", you continue to moan, not caring if others could hear your noises, this felt so wrong, having sex with your kidnapper, with the man involved in a string of murders and disappearances.

His voice was angelic, even if he was a demon right now, his moans were delicate, his groans were turning you on more than you'd like to admit, "It'll be okay, we'll be together", is the only thing he says before pumping your hole full of his cum, with just a few more thrusts, you also came, your chest full of cum and so was your hole, "A-Albert...", was all you said, you start to feel a bit light headed, Albert was there to support you, he pulls out and watches his cum seeping out of your hole, you were so full of his seed, "I'll show you so much more, stay with me Y/n".

```````````````

Taglist: @secretivemessenger @jkloserdazai @devilswhore-emrys

Been so busy these past few days, i keep saying i'm busy but it's true i promise😭 my s/o's birthday was a few days ago and i prepared so many stuff i felt like i would pass out

#male reader #x male reader #vyrie's dark thoughts #moriarty the patriot #yuukuko no moriarty #albert james moriarty #bottom male reader

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thegildedbee · 10 days

Text

Familiar/Fall: May 3 & May 4 Prompts from @calaisreno

I've been knocked off my feet at comments some of y'all have shared ❤️🌞🌺(so I've added some tags if you want to keep following along -- let me know, though, if you'd prefer not to have your stream cluttered :-) Program note: So the comments have surprised me into doing something I hadn't thought to do with @calaisreno's daily-merrie-month-of-May-party-invites: incubate a fic. So, full disclosure, seat of the pants improvising is the order of the day! There's no storyline tucked away in my pocket, not even a hazy 🌫️ one -- I'll be making this up as I go along 🤔, responding to the first thing that pops into my head with the prompts (so the timeline will be bouncing around and I will likely be working myself into puzzles I can't get out of 😰) But, hey, if you're game, so am I, you crazy kids! 😜 .............................................................................................

"John, right on time,” Lestrade says, waving him in after hearing the knock at his office door.

John steps across the threshold and pauses, tilting his head to gesture at the door.

“Right,” Lestrade replies, with a quick nod at the unvoiced question. “Turn the lock.” He shuts down the computer window that's open on his screen, and walks over to John and grasps his good shoulder.

“This is really happening, then?” he asks, scanning John’s face intently.

“It really is,” John confirms, pushing his shoulders back slightly and reflexively straightening his already straightened posture. “I’ll be leaving for parts unknown in two days' time, so I’ve been doing not much else -- even sleeping -- except cramming the prep. As we suspected, Mycroft tries to arrange for local operatives as back-up for Sherlock -- that is, when he knows where he is, or where he might be headed, which is often not the case -- but I’ll be a roving asset, one that he won’t ever meet face-to-face.”

“A shadow,” Lestrade offers.

“Yeah, something like that. As far as Sherlock will know, I’m still in London. Mycroft has stripped the metadata from stills he's pulled from CCTV footage that he can use to send to Sherlock if he asks for an update on my status.”

Lestrade takes that in, and then nods his head. “No time to waste. Let’s get what you came for, and send you back out to do whatever needs doing before you leave.”

Slipping on a pair of nitrile gloves, Lestrade walks over to a bank of filing cabinets at the back of the room, moving swiftly to pull out and fully extend the second drawer from the bottom of the second unit on the right. He barely glances at the contents, reaching toward the back for a horizontally stacked set of folders, which he lifts up and sets aside. He then retrieves a small black steel case that’s been revealed and sets it on a nearby table, and beckons for John to join him, pulling another set of gloves from his pocket and holding them out for him to use.

Lestrade pulls a blank file folder from the bottom of the stack he’d removed and opens it, revealing a small key taped inside, which he detaches and hands to John.

“Thanks, mate,” John says, a slight catch in his voice, “for keeping it safe . . . and for returning it.” He raises his fist to his mouth and coughs into it briefly, which allows him to pause and regain his composure. “I know this wasn’t a by-the-book decision,” he acknowledges.

Lestrade snorts. “That’s one way of putting it,” he says, giving a shrug. John touches his elbow, and says insistently, “It was a risk for you, a real one. Don’t think I don’t know that. Once I walk through the door we’ll forget it ever happened. Although I won’t ever forget you standing by me.”

John uses the key to open the steel box, and stops to gaze at the Sig P226 before he picks it up. He palms the grip, the familiar feel of its shape and of its weight in his hand a comforting one. He briefly disassembles it, then reassembles it, giving it another long look. Hello, comrade. We took out the first henchman Moriarty set at Sherlock, and, when the time comes, we’ll finish the game and take out the last one as well.

John furrows his forehead and looks at Lestrade, his expression fading from determination to being at a loss, saying in a lowered voice, “And thanks for taking it away from me when you did. You’re a damn smart copper, Greg, and a damn fine friend. I owe you.”

“Ah, hell, John, no,” Lestrade protests, throwing up his hands. “That you were in such a dark place is partly down to my own participation in the whole bloody shitshow at 221B,” he says, a pained look on his face.

John places the Sig at the small of his back, and looks down at his shoes, pausing for a moment before turning to Lestrade, and saying harshly, “We were pawns, Greg. Pawns of all of them: Moriarty, Mycroft, MI6. All of us were trapped in a knotted-up web they were weaving as they pulled the strings. It was a struggle to even begin to figure how to get out in front of any of it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and sighs. "It was a colossal clusterfuck.”

The two men look at each other, somber, each recalling, in retrospect, what they can now understand counted and what didn’t, what they should have seen but had failed to recognize, and how the seemingly solid facts they thought were in their grasp had liquefied, running through their fingers, leaving only emptiness behind.

Leaning his hip against the table, John crosses his arms across his chest, and says evenly, “And Sherlock, too. I try to imagine what it was like in his brain in the days before Bart’s, running scenarios and switching-out variables, over and over, unable to fight his way out of a tangle of nets and hooks, trying to find the surface.

“We didn’t know . . . but when he fell . . . from Bart’s roof,” John says, starting, then stopping, his voice trailing off, lost in whatever he’s picturing in his mind’s eye. “His fall . . . it’s as if he slashed through the tangled-up parts of the web when he fell. And that made an opening to begin taking all of it apart.”

Lestrade makes a soft noise of agreement, and then rocks back on his heels, his hands in his pockets. “I know it’s hard for you to know how long you may be gone . . . but I hope we see the both of you back here soon.” He reaches out to shake John’s hand, and then shifts, pulling him into a hug instead. “You take care out there, mate. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open here.”

“Well, that’s what got us this far,” John says, with a knowing look at Lestrade. “I wouldn’t be doing this on our terms without all of us having brought it about. Mission accomplished, in getting out into the field; let’s hope the first leg of what's to follow goes just as well.” ........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper @topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk @solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack @msladysmith @ninasnakie

#mayprompts2024 #calaisreno #sherlock bits and bobs #may prompts 2024 #johnlock

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wordsbyrian · 1 year

Text

Tired - Claudia Pina x Reader

Summary: R has been super tired recently and has taken to falling asleep in places they definitely shouldn't

A/N: Believe it or not I started this fic before my recent bout of insomnia, wild. Also, it's not perfect but I wanted to get it out before midnight, I can edit it later.

If there is one thing that your teammates always made fun of you for, it is definitely your ability to fall asleep any and everywhere.

It’s a talent really and while you would love to lie and say that you don’t mean to but sometimes, it is 100 percent on purpose.

Right now it is not one of those times.

You’re stumbling through the airport with your teammates on your way to Sevilla to face Betis. Your movement resembles a zombie's, and you’re sure it’s probably equal parts amusing and worrying.

The trance of your half-asleep state is broken by the sound of your name being called by multiple people.

“Hmm,” you respond, lifting your head to look at the group of women in front of you.

“Did you get any sleep last night,” Aitana asks.

You nod.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” you lie, trying to stand up straighter, “You know airports make me tired.”

Your sister doesn’t look very convinced but you shoot her one of your usual mischievous smiles before stealing Clàudia’s coffee from her hand and taking a sip.

That does, of course, earn you a pout from your girlfriend but you just grin at her, placing a kiss on the side of her head before taking another sip.

Those two sips of coffee aren’t enough to keep you awake for the flight and you find yourself slumped against the window before the plane even takes off.

One would think that you’d be fine after taking a nap on the flight but that’s not what happened.

You barely woke up enough to get from the plane to the bus and once there you slipped on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and promptly went back to sleep.

The next time the team finds you sleeping somewhere you shouldn’t be is when they enter the locker room for MD-1 training before your next home game.

You’d had an early meeting with some of the training staff and instead of wasting time going home and coming back, you decided to catch a quick nap in the locker room.

It had seemed like a good idea until right now as the volume of the room steadily increased. Maybe you should’ve chosen one of the training rooms instead.

There are a couple of attempts from the older players to shush the rowdy ones but if anything it just makes them get louder.

Barely managing to keep from sighing, you open your eyes and sit up.

You’re not surprised by what you first see, the chaos of the locker room is something you are very familiar with. Most of the time you’re one of the people causing problems or trying to get everyone to laugh.

It’s what you hear that has you ready to go back to sleep.

Before you even have a chance to fully orient yourself, you hear Mariona shout, “Tough luck Pina! Looks like Sleeping Beauty didn’t need a kiss to wake up this time.”

“Mario, don’t be jealous because the girl you want to kiss is in London,” you respond making everyone turn to face you.

Somewhere off to the side, you hear someone mumbling about how you’re incredibly grumpy for someone who just took a nap.

But you ignore them in favor of grabbing your cleats and training jacket before heading out to the field, it always takes you to warm up when you have to worry about waking up at the same time.

Your neverending exhaustion continues to draw attention and it comes to a head during a night out.

You’re sitting in the booth you ad the girls have claimed with your head tilted back and eyes closed.

Unaware of how long you’ve been sitting like that, you jump when you hear something being placed on the table. The sound is immediately followed by the feeling of someone's foot brushing yours as someone takes a seat across from you.

Sitting up, you’re greeted by the sight of Mapi pushing a beer across the table toward you.

Not bothering to ask any questions, you grab the glass and take a couple of sips from it.

“I know you fall asleep everywhere but this is public even for you,” she says.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you tell her, ‘just taking a moment to myself.”

Your words don’t even sound believable to your own ears and based on the look Mapi is giving you she isn’t convinced either.

“You should work on your lying face for when Pina gets over here and asks what’s wrong with you,” she says, “Might also want to perk up because she is definitely going to pull you out to dance with her.”

Taking a deep breath, you sit up a little further simultaneously running a hand down your face before finishing off your beer.

“Better,” you ask, hoping that small smile you put on doesn’t look too forced.

“It’s gonna have to work because here she comes.”

You have less than 5 seconds to pull yourself a little more together before Clàudia drops into your lap.

“Hola cariño,” she says as you shift trying to make the position more comfortable for the both of you.

Once you’re comfortable enough, you bury your face in the back of her shoulder before mumbling a greeting back.

Sitting there, with your girlfriend in your arms, it's like everyone else has suddenly vanished. For the first time in a couple of weeks, it doesn’t feel like your brain is trying to burst its way out of your skull.

It’s amazing.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t last very long because Mapi decides to remind you both of her presence.

“Cool so fuck me then,” she says. “You guys aren’t fun to be around when you’re being gross.”

Lifting your head slightly eyes barely showing from behind Pina’s shoulder, you shoot her the meanest glare you can muster before speaking.

“Do you want me to tell Clàudia about what happened when I went to play FIFA at your apartment last week,” you ask, “or are we both going to behave ourselves.”

You watch as Mapi leans forward slightly, trying to call your bluff with her eyes.

Unwilling to give in, you continue to glare at her before smirking and opening your mouth as though to tell the woman on your lap what happened.

“Alright fine,” she groans, sitting back. “Asshole.”

“Ha.”

“If the two of you are finished with whatever that was,” Clàudia begins, turning slightly to face you. “Will you come dance with me?”

Barely refraining from rolling your eyes, you unwrap your arms from around her waist, allowing her to stand and subsequently allowing yourself to be pulled up and towards the dance floor.

Time passes and at the end of the night, you walk both Pina and Patri back to their apartment.

Now, you’re leaning against their door, fighting a losing battle as Pina tries to get you to come inside.

“Just come inside and stay the night,” PIna says, for what must be the tenth time. She’s also pouting at you, which is not making things any easier on you.

“I kind of just want to go back to my place tonight,” you explain, trying not to give in.

“Y/N,” she whines.

“Clàudia,” you say in the same tone.

The two of you continue in this vein before Patri gets sick of your bullshit.

“For fucks sake, will you just come in and cuddle her, Y/N/N,” she shouts from somewhere inside the apartment. “We all know that if you go home, you’d just play video games until you pass out anyway.”

With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you allow yourself to be pulled into the apartment.

30 minutes later, you’re in the familiar position of spooning Pina laying in the dark, enjoying the silence. For a moment you think she’s fallen asleep, her breathing is even but then she speaks, startling you slightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been having problems sleeping?”

“Didn’t think it was a big deal,” you explain, “Nothing I could've done about it anyway, They were out of my ADHD medication, so I’ve been trying to wait it out.”

A beat of silence.

“How long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you not been on your meds,” she asks.

“Almost two weeks.”

There’s another pause as Pina takes the time to roll over in your arms.

You can’t see her face in the darkness but you can imagine the look she’s giving you. It’s probably a cross between frustrated, annoyed, and worried. You’ve been on the receiving end of that look more than a couple of times.

“Two weeks? We’ve played three matches in the last two weeks, how have you been functioning?”

“Been going on extra runs,” you reply, “It worked when I was a kid, figured it would help now. Besides sleep deprivation is the easiest symptom to deal with.”

“Y/N,” the way she says your name is far too soft. “Mi amor, that’s not healthy. You should’ve told someone, we could’ve helped you.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m going to pick up my prescription tomorrow after practice.”

“Y/N.”

“Clàudia.”

“Y/N.”

“Clàudia.”

A sharp pinch is delivered to your side.

“Ouch,” you gasp, barely resisting the urge to pinch her back. “Cariño, I’ve had ADHD my entire life, two weeks without my meds isn’t going to kill me.”

You both hear and feel your girlfriend sigh deeply before she places a kiss on your chin and turns back over, returning to her original position.

A few silent moments pass and you feel yourself beginning to drift off only for Pina again.

“Amor?”

“Hmm?”

“Promise you’ll let me know if you’re struggling, okay? You don’t have to solve all your problems alone.”

“Sí, lo prometo.”

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #espwnt imagine #espwnt x reader #claudia pina x reader #claudia pina imagine

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windsweptinred · 1 year

Text

Metamorphosis

Based in this post

The AU Where Morpheus doesn't retire and become mortal, but marries up and gets a promotion...

Part One

3 months earlier

The bedsheets rustled as Hob stirred, breaking the near perfect silence of the bedroom. In the distance, waves of revelry carried across the breeze from the city centre, and the odd crawl of traffic from the road out back could be heard through the window. London never truly slept..

Hob pawed at the empty bed beside him before furrowing his brows. Peeling an eye open reluctantly and gazing blurrily towards Dream's perch on the window sill.

"Dream?" He called questioningly, before rubbing at his eyes. Lifting his head and fumbling for his phone resting on the bedside table. "What time is it? 2.05!" Dropping back with an overly dramatic grunt, he covers his eyes with the heels of his hands and let out an exaggerated groan. "Umph. I have to be up in four hours!"

Smiling softly at his lover's behaviour, Dream turned to rest his forehead against the cool pane of glass, momentarily flinching at the remembrance of the cold sting against his skin. Before gazing upwards in contemplation.

" Night seems muted somehow."

Hob pulled a pillow out from beneath his head, resolutely bringing it down over it again with a huff.

"That's air pollution for you poppet."

Dream looked up at the moon, a hazy blur of light, lording over an inky sky of equally sickly looking stars. Blinking feebly in competition with the bright lights of the city below. Placing a hand flat against the smooth surface, he took a deep inhale, tentatively reaching out towards his mother, feeling a lazy waft of irritation in return.

"Perhaps"

Hob peered one eye out from beneath his goose feather fortress, before pulling himself free with a sigh. "Dream, come back to bed. Your simple human needs a few more hours if he's going to face 30 odd freshmens tomorrow."

Pulling his bare legs out from beneath him, Dream dropped gently to the floor. Hob's old shirt hanging in gently folds about his thighs, one sleeve draped precariously off his shoulder. Tip towing silently across the floor and slinking back into the bed, Hob granted him a tired yet loving, lopsided grin. Already fighting the droop of his eyelids.

"Look at you, shining like a star."

Dream smiled indulgently as Hob let out a loud yawn. Tucking himself snuggly against the side of his body. Basking in the heat of his duvet cocooned skin. With his head neatly resting in the curve of Hob's neck, he let out a small chuckle. "I do no such thing Hob Gadling."

He felt Hob's fingers run a gentle figure of eight into his shoulder blade.

"Then why's your skin twinkling like a bag of diamonds?" He mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Dream rolled his eyes, burying his nose into Hob's jawline. "You are a hopeless romantic when you are halfway to my realm my darling. Now…" He ran a hand featherlight over Hob's face. "Sleep."

With a snuff, Hob eyes closed and dropped almost instantly into a peaceful slumber. Glancing idly about the room, Dream's eyes caught the glaring numbers of the stereo display. 12.15 am. Hob's sleep-addled brain must have misread the time.

"I too wish for more time, beloved."

…….

2 months earlier

Hob exited the door of the shared English and History department, taking in a lungful of fresh, early evening air. He swore they'd painted the windows shut back in the 90s. The last time the university had seen fit to refurbish the building. His demeanour quickly lit up when he noticed the slim, dark figure of Dream resting against the bonnet of his car. Head tilted back, seemingly observing the deep reds of the sunset. Walking to meet him with a renewed jig in his step, Hob greeted him with a peck to the cheek and twinning his arms about the Dream's slim waist, propping his head upon his leather clad shoulder. Feeling the residual warmth left by the setting sun on the fabric.

Dream turned to observe him, eyes flitting about, cataloguing the toll the day had taken on him before smiling a small, sweet smile. "You glow today my love."

Hob barked a laugh, re shouldering his work bag and running a hand through his tousled hair. "That's a nice way of saying I still look hideously hungover duck. I appreciate it."

Dream pulled away, angling his lithe body to fully face Hob.

"I do not jest. You shine with life. If I did not already know such a thing to be impossible, I would say you looked younger." He reached up, sweeping aside an errant strand of auburn hair from Hob's eyes. "Vitalised."

Hob let out a snort, placing a quick peck upon Dream's brow, licking at the sweet remnants of 'dream' stuff it left upon his lips. "If you say so, love. Yesterday I swear I looked and felt every one of my 600 odd years. My hair was practically grey I tell you."

The starlight pinpricks hidden within Dream's pupils flared in what Hob had come to learn was amusement. For a brief moment, he swore he saw the first stars of the evening, scattered haphazardly amongst the intertwined reds and blues of sunset, flare back.

" You are as vibrant as the day we met."

Hob smirked at that, crowding Dream backwards until he half sat on the car bonnet. Leaning forward until they were but a hair's breadth apart. He whispered cock surely, "That's what you thought of me was it? Covered in shit and smelling twice as fragrant? Vibrant?"

A challenging spark lit in Dream's eyes as he quirked his lip, before pouncing forward, arms wrapped tight about Hob's neck, claiming his lips in a searing kiss.

A raucous chorus of wolf whistles sounded somewhere behind them, followed by a riotous roar of hoots and cackles. A group of students who'd obviously begun the night early. Hob pulled away, rolling his eyes, before giving his ear an embarrassed tug out of habit.

He watched Dream take in the group with a fond expression. Wondering passingly what he knew of them. Their lives, their hopes, their dreams. When Dream turned his attention back to him, Hob's breath hitched in wonder. His eyes, usually pools of blue or as pitch black as the midnight sky, were now a wash with soft, mingling hues of reds, purples and blues. As if someone had captured the dusk sky around them and painted it onto Dream's eyes. He took a moment silently, to once again thank whatever entity watched over him, for deeming him worthy of this ethereal, beautiful creature in his arms

"What were you looking at anyway?"

Dream looked to the sky, and once again, the stars seemed to blink brightly in response. As if clamouring for his attention.

"The stars are singing. Can you hear them?"

Hob smiled adoringly, kissing Dream one last time before detangling himself from their embrace, working his way round the car and sweeping the passenger door open with a flourish.

"If you say so sweetheart. Come on, let's head home."

…..

One month earlier

Hob pawed at the meat of Dream's thigh, hefting it higher as his thrusts increased their tempo. About his shoulder, he felt Dream's other knee tighten in a vice grip. His toes, resting near the centre of Hob's back, clenched with every snap of Hob's hips. Mouthing desperately at the beautiful pale breast below him, he felt the familiar sensation of his coming climax alight like a sparkler.

"Oh god, I'm close, I'm…" And suddenly, he was adrift. Gone was Dream and in his place he was being held aloft in the vast, endless skies of night. He felt the cold embrace encompass his body, gently, lovingly. About him, stars and comets danced and flared in a frenzied, joyus display. From within him, he felt a heat, a great light pulse and grow. A power, an essence unfurling within him like a flower, opening to embrace the first rays of dawn. He was a great wave crashing against a slowly eroding cliff face, he was sun and shadow, weaving its way about an ancient sundial. He was the very turn of the seasons, rotating like a great wheel, over and over.

And then, there was the night again, about him. Stroking, clawing, adoring, challenging. He battled back, he loved back. He felt the pull and push, light and dark, heat and cold… expanding and condensing. Building, building, building… Then… Bang.

Hob, melted rather than pulled off Dream. Flopping down beside him on the bed.

His body, a mass of quivering gelatin, he was sure couldn't hold him if he tried. He took lungfuls of the stale, bedroom air, thick with the heady aroma of sex and desperately tried to catch his breath. Next to him, Dream seemed to fare no better. Sprawled out comatose, hands clutching at his head and heart. A glazed, almost vacant expression on his face.

Somewhat, regaining the use of his vocal cords, Hob turned his head towards Dream, croaking, "Holy Fuck what was that?!"

Dream gazed at the ceiling for a few moments longer before languidly rolling onto his side to face Hob. His eyes spoke of bone deep exhaustion but also utter contentment.

"I do not know. That has never happened before."

Somewhere deep in Hob's subconscious, his ego stuck its chin out, gave a pompous, self congratulatory cockcrow and proceeded to strut elatedly. As it was, he sent Dream a slightly pleased, knackered looking smile.

"Shit, seriously?"

Dream nodded his head slightly in confirmation.

Hob paused for a moment before sending Dream a devilish look, "Was it just me, or did Big Ben go off just as we came?"

Dream eyes crinkled as a huffed chuckle escaped him. Hob guffawed in response. And thus they greeted the morning, snickering to each other like naughty children.

……

The present day

The rain pelted incessantly from above, Dream's hair lay in sodden clumps, water draining from them streaking down his face, his shirt was soaked through. Yet he felt nothing. He clutched desperately to the cliff edge he sat upon, pressing the jagged rock into his palms, making it bite in the flesh. He willed it to pierce, to cut, to hurt, to make him bleed. Below, his realm was torn asunder. He wondered what it would be like to push himself forward, fall freely into the destruction below. Escape wantonly into oblivion. Would it be kinder, less painful then what was to come?

"Take my hand little brother."

He stared at Death's palm outstretched, he could not look her in the eyes. It would just be another unsaid farewell, another desperate want to stay, another moment fighting the urge to lay himself prostrate at her feet and beg for more time.

He took a deep shuddering breath, attempting to calm his nerves. His arm felt like a deadweight as he lifted it. At once conflicting emotions of panic and relief rose from within him, overwhelming the numbness. His senses dulled and head roared simultaneously and he rocked forward toward his sister in a blind, nauseous haze. Soon it would be over… I'm sorry, I don't want to, I'm so tired, please don't make me go, I'm sorry, I can rest, I'm sorry…I love you…

"Stop!"

Hob

He felt himself being hauled into the confines of two strong arms, that locked about him like an iron cage, resolute in keeping their captive from all. In that moment, as his mind frantically scrambled to process everything, aeons of repressed pain broke from the tight binding he had placed about it. And cradled in Hob's embrace, mere seconds from his death, his reserve finally crumbled and he unabashedly wept.

In his misery, he felt the unexpected sting of sharp metal pierce his chest and wondered if this was what it was to die. Yet further it plunged deeper and deeper still, until it hooked his heart and pulled. And he knew then what this was. For the first time in countless centuries, Dream allowed his mind to be reeled in without resistance. As grey mists filled his lungs and phantom hands clutched at him, pressing him maternally to a soft stomach. There he lay in the clutch of Despair, as she petted his hair and cooed softly to him. As her rats scurried about him, gently nuzzling his body. Slowly, he became aware of a thud reverberating around them. Quiet at first, but growing steadily louder. A drumming, strong and proud that sent the rats scattering…. A heartbeat he realised. Was it Hob's heart pounding frantically under his ear, no… No he was not with Hob, he was being held from behind, two arms wrapped about his chest, beautifully manicured hands placed on his breast framing his heart. The smell of peaches smothered him and as his senses roared to life.

'Fight it big brother, do you hear me? Fight it! Desire happiness, desire to be loved as you love. But most of all desire life. Let yourself desire big brother. Please, please!..' "Please, please don't!"

"Hob, you should not be here."

Hob.

He snapped back to the moment, feeling the painful, vice-like grip of Hob's hand in his hair, fiercely holding his head to his chest. Above them, he felt the rain still pelt down, below, the rock scrapped at his knees through his sodden jeans. Feebly, Dream reached out, grasping a handful of Hob's drenched shirt, clenching it in his hand like a tether.

"Please Death, don't take him, I beg you! I love him." Hob pulled Dream's body even closer to his. Rocking them both in a soothing motion, Dream was not sure if it was for his benefit, or Hobs. "I love him."

As his vision cleared, the form of his sister slowly became apparent, kneeling at their side. A respectful distance away so as to not cause Hob further distress. From the protective barrier of Hob's arms, he met her eyes, awash with unshed tears. Dream wished desperately to reach out and comfort her, but for the first time in their shared existence, feared her touch. Instead he clung tighter to Hob's shirt, feeling the hitch of Hob's body as he hopelessly failed to hold back sobs.

How was it he could bring such pain to those he loved when he wished them none?

"Hob please, it is not so simple..."

Dream opened his mouth, tongue laden as he tried to speak, he worked his throat fruitlessly for a few moments as his voice sought to restore itself, before he let out a weak, "I don't… I don't.. "

Hob's startled, pushing Dream from his chest and reaching to carefully cradle his face with two trembling hands. "Dream, love? Dream?"

"I do not wish to leave you."

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #death of the endless #desire of the endless #despair of the endless #The sandman #the sandman fanfic #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus

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