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minihotdog · 7 months

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Stay a Wee Longer

Pairing: Soap x Medic!OC (Sergeant Lynn)

Summary: Soap ends up needing to be stitched up and is happy that the person doing it is so purdy

a/n: I actually like this fic ngl

c/w: poor understanding of medicine and the medical field, blood, wounds, mentions of dropping babies, saying too damn much while high off pain meds, a cutie patootie so cute it makes me wanna explode, too much smiling.

Word Count: 1k

***

You raced down the hallways of the small med bay alongside the medic you were turning over as he filled you in on the current influx of patients.

“We just got a wave of task force in the bay. You know what that means.” Reed sings at the end of his statement.

“Trouble.” Your words are dry, already exhausted from imagining the day ahead. “Yes, ma’am!” He exclaims in agreement.

When the task force was back in town it meant everyone had their work cut out for them. All sorts of injuries would come through, many needing immediate care.

“Your first patient is Sergeant Mactavish. Ooooh, he’s cute.” Reed gasps, peaking at the patient chart before handing the clipboard to you. “You should really make a move.”

“What’s wrong with him?” You ignore his remark.

Reed rolls his eyes at your attempt to deflect.

“Laceration, Left pectoral muscle. Bleeding is minimal, large improvement from earlier.”

“Yeah, rog.”

“If you don’t make a move on him then I will. Give me his file back.” He says while faking taking the clipboard from you desperately.

“Reed! I swear!” You finally break, smirking at your friend. He laughs before you both head in opposite directions.

You reach an unmarked door, a room reserved for more secretive guests. You knock before entering and greet an apprentice cleaning up a mess of bloody gauze.

“Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”

The apprentice nods and leaves. You feel a pair of eyes on you while taking another peek at the patient’s chart before speaking.

“Hello, Sergeant Mactavish, how are you this morning?” You brace for a sarcastic or angry response only to be met with a genuine “Oh, I'm quite lovely.”

Your eyes dart from the chart to him in surprise. His baby blues staring back at you. You’d ask patients how they were, even when they were obviously in pain, it allowed you to gauge how well they may cooperate during the treatment. Usually, the response would be along the lines of “fuck off” or “what do you think?” Yet here he sat with a slight smile tugging at one side of his lips and a dazed look.

“What’s yer name, bonnie?” His eyes were tired, dark circles clung to them as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I’m Sergeant Lynn. I’ll be tending to you today.”

He gives you a proper smile, his eyes nearly closing in the process,

“Good tae meet ye, Sergeant Lynn.”

You notice the scar on his chin and recall his lengthy medical history in the chart,

“You sure do get hurt a lot, don’t you?”

He continues grinning, “Aye, I’m awfully good at that.”

You take a seat on the rolling chair next to the hospital bed where he lies. Your eyes give him a once over looking for any other obvious injuries. He’s lying shirtless, his camo pants splotched with blood here and there. He has a small patch of chest hair and a Scottish flag tattooed over his heart, and old scars litter his torso and arms. Your cheeks felt warm at the sight of his physique, it was obvious that this man loved the gym as much as life itself.

You mentally tell yourself to keep it together as you put your gloves on and begin removing the bloody bandage placed on his chest to help stop any bleeding he still had. His wound still oozes out a slow stream of blood traveling down his chest and slowing at his abdomen. You wipe up the blood with gauze, feeling his muscles contract under your touch. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s bleeding, his gaze fixated on you.

“I’m happy yer the one lookin’ after me today.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” You glance up at him quickly before continuing to examine the wound and its depth.

“Yer the most beautiful woman I’ve set eyes on in a long time. And I’m no sayin’ that ‘cause I’ve been starin’ at ma teammate’s ugly mug fir months.” His words occasionally blend together in a messy slur.

You felt a little embarrassed by his compliment. It wasn’t the most appropriate time for you to be receiving one. He was bleeding, wounded, and your eyes trying so desperately to not gawk at his bare chest or stare back into his captivating eyes.

“Thank you, sergeant. I assume the pain medication you’ve been given is working well.”

“Ye assumed correctly, but I still hae some discomfort.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I’ll up the dose for you.” You quickly reach over him turning a dial on his dropper, the liquid beginning to drop more frequently. Soap notices your sweet-smelling perfume at the brief proximity and he lets his head drop back on the bed, eyes shut trying to savor it. The cool liquid entering his arm through an IV causes him to sigh and you assume he’s feeling the effects of the medication a little more, relaxing even further into the bed but once again he looks at you, this time with the softest eyes making your heart jump at the sight.

“Could you state your name and date of birth for me? Gotta ask before I do anything.”

“As ye wish. John Mactavish, January 12, 1996.”

You thank him quietly and continue trying to clean his wound and stop the little bleeding that is still present.

“A winter baby, huh? I heard they’re the happiest little things.”

“Aye? Where did ye hear that?”

You toss the used gauze into a small bin on your work table. “It’s an old wives tale.” Your lips form a downturned smile. “I used to deliver babies. The old midwives always had the darndest things to say.”

He chuckles sweetly, “Ah wonder if it’s true.”

“Me too. Unfortunately. I only saw the babies when they were born. Never got the chance to catch up.” You find yourself chuckling alongside him. You were certain a tint of pink had found its place on your cheeks.

“It must be a wonderful experience tae see the birth o’ a wean.”

You pause looking up at him with your eyebrows raised. He recognizes the look he gets almost daily from his teammates and translates, “A baby.”

You grab your suture and begin stitching the wound shut.

“It is. Sometimes it feels like a game of Russian Roulette, sometimes you get an easy delivery.” Your lip twitches downward, “Other times it all goes to shit. You don’t know what to expect, but with time it becomes a sixth sense.” You dab his wound with some gauze before continuing. “Most people don’t realize how hard birth actually is, or the risks. People think it’s easy because you might have the organs for it, but it often doesn’t go as planned.”

He listens to you attentively, his eyes go from the ceiling to you and back to the ceiling.

“Why did ye leave that work? Ye sound passionate.”

“Well, you can only drop so many babies before they send you running for the hills.” You joke, hoping he picks up on it instead of believing you were some serial baby dropper. His laughter fills the small room, the sound almost boyish but laced with the deep bass of his voice. You can tell he probably needed a laugh after the pain he’d endured.

“Ye hae a great sense o’ humour, sergeant.” His laughter dies down and he looks at you for the thousandth time. “Seriously, why did ye stop?”

You sigh, “I wanted a little more… Pizzazz?” The word sounded more like a question, you weren’t sure if it truly explained how you felt.

“…Pizzazz?” He repeats with a snicker falling from his lips. He tilts his head at you, his eyebrows raised in amusement. You look up at him with a spark in your eye that he can’t explain. “I wanted more chaos, more variety, heart-pounding work.”

“Hmm.” In a way he understood.

“When I woke up this morning, I had no idea what I’d be doing. Here I am stitching up a handsome Scotsman and tomorrow…” You shrug, “Maybe a rookie will come in with their fingers in an ice chest after a Roman candle fight. Who knows?”

He chortles, partially from you calling him handsome and from remembering his days of being a mentor to the rookies of his old unit before the SAS and Task Force. He’d received countless phone calls in the dead of night being informed that his troops were out raising hell. A rookie’s life was hell, but without responsibility, the blame would fall on whatever poor soul was listed as their supervisor.

“That mean ye work well under stress?”

“Something like that.” Your words trail off focusing a little harder on the intricate parts of the stitch. “What made you want your crazy-ass job?”

“The adrenaline is mental, but I get tae do something rewardin’. I’m proud tae protect folk, even frae dangers they dinnae know exist.” He hisses slightly at the end of his sentence. You stop, waiting for him to recuperate. He gives you a reassuring look before you continue. “What made ye wan’ tae be a medic?”

“I like helping people, even if they fight back half the time.” You go quiet for a few seconds. “Also, some rotten girl I went to school with said she wanted to be one as well and I said I could do it better.”

“Haha, ye seem like the competitive type.” His tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips. Your eyes retreat back to his chest, and you chew on your lip trying to calm yourself.

“I’m sure ye’d kick her arse at this a thoosand times o’er. I can see ye pit a lot o’ love intae yer work.”

“I do what I can.” You wink at him playfully. It was now his turn to blush, he was thankful that the scruff he’d grown the last two days was there to camouflage it. Cannae let a bonnie lassie see ye like this, John

“Alright, Sergeant Mactavish. You’re all stitched up and ready to go. Please take it easy until it heals. And please no Roman candle fights.” You warn while placing your tools on the small table to your side.

He laughs heartily, “Thae days are long behind me.”

“I’ll have an apprentice come to take out your IV and if you have an escort you can leave immediately.”

“Thank ye. I suppose it’s better tae be safe than sorry. Even though I reckon I could handle it.” His large hand comes up to scratch his scruff. His bicep contracts in what he thinks is a natural movement. You mentally roll your eyes at his innocent peacocking. If he hadn’t been so delightful, you’d have written him off as another sweet-talking womanizer you’d encountered from the special forces.

“Maybe you would manage just fine but every precaution comes about because the unthinkable has happened.” You clean up your station, disposing of your gloves.

“Do you need anything before I leave?”

“Tae be honest, I’d like if ye stayed a wee bit longer and humored a poor injured man.”

You shake your head at him with a smirk. Your pager cuts you off before you have a chance to respond. “I’d love to stay but I have to run.” You take out a notepad, scribble on it and hand it to him. Your soft hands graze his calloused ones. “Here you go, darlin’.” You shoot him a smile and he gladly returns one before you scurry off leaving him alone in the room. He looks at the piece of paper realizing you’d given him your phone number. A big smile spreads on his face, red finally peeking out from behind his facial hair. Oh, Johnny lad ye hae ootwitted yersel!

#soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap imagine #call of duty fanfic #john mactavish imagine #john mactavish fic #myfic

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uninformedartist · 7 months

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So just finished watching the ep so review. Spoils ahead:

So the episode was ok to me, solid 6/10 one of the better episodes which since this was supposed to be an "extravagant" ep why does it got better quality than the main eps, idk Viv has her moments like this ep and other eps its a train wreck in writing ect.

Mammon worked on my nerves, from design to his movements, personality ALL of him was annoying, which props for an annoying Villian but its Villian I never want to see back again and he's hinted for some sort of return.

Side tangent: Mammon is like the how many-ith Villian to get a return ep/hint at one. It was 1st cherubs, then dorks, then stella/ice twink, striker/crimson now Mammon & according to the leaked storyboards a ghost guy that tries to talk IMP into off-ing themselves... its a flipping lot and cherubs & dorks seem to be forgotten dispite dorks knowing & having hard evidence they exist, flip Viv chill it with your Villian of the week cos its way too many now.

Anyway, Blitz didn't need to be in this ep besides the flashback. Ozzie got him to talk Fizz out of being Mammon's puppet but ultimately Ozzie spoke him out of it & gave him courage to quit/confront Mammon. Even Blitz being a bodyguard/killing people for Fizz could've been any imp. Blitz is starting to feel like Steven from SU, in every ep even tho the ep doesn't need him/ the episode surrounds topics a wee child shouldn't be in (i.e Lapis trauma dumping on Steven & he a child isn't really equipped to handle that situation).

My fave part of this ep was Ozzie and Fizz. Ya'll I legit prayed Viv wouldn't mess these two up and my prayers were answered. Absolutely a joy these two were. Fizz especially what a darling. Loved that small scenes with him and the deaf imp child, l dont know sign language but it looked genuine animated and was just sweet moments.

From their interactions, Fizz's panic attacks/self doubt felt & were genuine... I felt that as someone that has panic attacks from high stress on my studies/life. It was just handled well. Fizz feeling less than and needing to prove himself from 1. his past 2. his appearance, that accident affected his self image/worth so much (why I felt him forgiving Blitz was too hastily done but I digress) & 3. him doing this Mammon contest still to gain/earn Ozzie's love for him cos Fizz believes Ozzie only sticks around because of this fame Mammon gave Fizz. Ozzie finally saying what he loves about Fizz was lovely, wanted that in the 1st ep but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Their song was... I didn't like it BUT the message in it was beautiful. Lastly Fizz saying fuck you to Mammon from the courage/strength Ozzie gave him was a nice send off... also Ozzie saying he loves Fizz ah ngl that made me smile agh I just love them. I want to see them more than the Stolitz show but thats only a wish. Props Viv, you get 1 brownie point not messing this up.

Last findings, the ep was bloated as hell my soul Viv please stop cramming so much in an ep, this one is 30 mins long & yet still felt bloated. Pacing was a motherfuka damn it was bad & the swearing was jarring (its a Viv written ep I don't expect any less but still gonna point it out) and the comedy wasn't so prominent in this ep, Blitz/Mammon gave some comic relief but in the best and worst ways:

The way the VA delivered this line "to be fucked" made me laugh, the line is cringy but the delivery lol gold

Aand Blitz, my soul shut the fuck up & get out this ep. Last ep & this one he said something so agonizingly cringe I pulled my face

The world of HB is legit American hell or earth just painted red since Fizz named all these places in America just "hellified" where his fans come from.

And very last, congratulations Salem glad you got the cathartic send off you deserve from working under Viv, truly fuck you "Mammon" indeed :) also glad they credited you this time.

#vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss criticism #my post #can we get a moment for Salem cos heck yeah for them whoooo!!!!

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opensesamepandemonium · 3 days

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Hajime Hinata x Nagito Komaeda - Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair (+ general Danganronpa franchise)

Taking the pinacle place of all the SDGR ships, (but 6th for me) is of course, Komahina.

I will be the first to admit I was a late-comer to the unbridled madness that is the Komahina fandom. This is mainly because it took two full play-throughs of SDGR2 and help from some magnicifent authors on AO3, to change my mind about Hajime being a 'meh' protagonist and Nagito being a straight up psychotic lunatic (although that kinda still tracks..)

Apart from the blatant marketing and writing to make these protag/antag boys an obvious yaoi ship, the deeper you delve into understanding Nagito and Hajime as individual characters, the more that their relationship makes sense. (TLDR: their outlooks on what hope/talent/self worth etc was completely changed because they met one another. and its kinda beautiful).

Like a few ships on this list, the pairing is a wee bit toxic. Although to be fair, a lot of that is due to their faults as individual characters. *ahem* Nagito low key being all g with murder if its for the sake of hope - meanwhile - Hajime being 'oh yeah cool, lobotomy all the way' *ahem*. Nagito also would straight up worship Hajime post NWP, which has similar unhealthy vibes to another pair I will talk about later on.

AND let us never forget that gay lil "uwu i'm all tied up! you're gonna have to feed me, Hajime~~!" scene. Nagito knew exactly what he was doing; that boy is a straight up hoe.

Art by: Gothcowboyz

#danganronpa #danganronpa 2 #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #komahina

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burbur-49 · 2 months

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Scarred Love - Chapter Eight: Do You Wanna Know?

a/n: Took a long bit of writer's block, but I got it done!

Word count: 1,359

Cw: Ghoap x f!reader, soulmates, Simon's family, small mention of murder, a bit of angst with comfort(Tell me if I missed any)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8 ~ Masterlist

You laugh at Simon’s chiding. Your friends might be a bit over-the-top sometimes, but you still love them and their protectiveness of you.

“So, uh, when will I be meeting your guys’ parents?” You say as a way to try and bring the conversation back to what it was originally, “We’re already here in England, so why wait?”

“Well… You were given two papers right?” Johnny Questions.

“Yeap, one for England and one for Scotland. Figured I'd at least meet whoever's parents that are in England while I'm here.”

Simon looks away for a second, “... My Ma's no longer with us…” You see the sadness in his eyes and the sympathy given from Johnny.

“Could I still visit her? Let her know her boy's in a second set of good hands?”

“That's a good idea, Luv.”

Some of Simon's sadness disappeared and is replaced by something softer, something sweeter.

~The next day~

You've been riding in Simon's car for two hours now. It's an older car, one with a full row of seating in the front seat. You're seated in between Simon and Johnny. You half expected both men to place a hand on your thigh during the ride, but to your surprise they've both been really respectful to you, unlike men in the past. The radio is softly playing and you think you hear Take On Me by a-ha playing and Johnny humming to it.

Johnny taps you on the knee to get your attention.

“Lass, we’ve got about another two hours before we get to the ferry, if ye want ye can take a wee nap.”

“Got it.”

You nod and lean in closer to him, your side closer pressed into his. Johnny’s quiet humming is quite relaxing, the reverberations of his voice against your side makes you somewhat sleepy. You don’t think you’ve fallen asleep, but you’re awoken by a gentle hand on your shoulder lightly shaking you awake.

“C’mon Luv, wake up, we’re here.”

Simon’s voice, gruff, opposite of his touch, wakes you up.

“Hm?” You hum as you rub your eyes.

Once you’re fully awake, you grab the flowers you wanted to bring and your other items that you need. Johnny offers to hold the flowers for you, but you decline. You hold the flowers in one hand, and the other hand, well more like your pinky on that hand, is being held by Simon. You can tell it means a lot to him.

You go on a nice hike up the mountain, to a beautiful clearing, bare except for a singular tree in the middle and some flowers in the grass. Under the tree are four gravestones, the tallest one says “Liliana Riley, Loving wife and mother.”, the next on says “Tomas “Tommy” Riley, loving son, husband, father and brother.”, the one next to it says “Beth Riley, loving wife and mother.”, the last one has small picture of toddler on it and says “Joseph Riley, loving son and grandson.”.

“S'my mom, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.”

Your heart breaks for Simon. His whole family is here, but gone. You hug Simon, the raw emotion flooding off the two of you. Simon wraps both his arms around you, its gentle yet strong; like he doesn't want to hurt you, but thinks you're going to get taken away from him.

It feels like forever goes by before the hug ends. When it does the two of you walk over to where Johnny has already set down the blanket you guys brought in front of the tree and graves. You divide the flowers and set some on each of the graves. Johnny places a little toy car on Joseph's grave, there's already around three there, it must be a tradition. You look at the dates on the gravestones, all on the same day.

The realization that they were most likely murdered saddens you even more. Tears prick at your waterline, threatening to spill over, to betray the calm facade you wanted to portray today. Your hands instinctively search for Johnny and Simon's, you grasp their hands in yours, not wanting to let go.

“S'okay Bonnie,” Johnny coos at you, “I wasn't much calmer.”

You lean into Simon and the hand that was holding yours wraps around your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. You want to ask what exactly happened to all of them, but you don’t. You leave it to him to tell you. The three of you spend a while just enjoying the slight breeze and quietness of the mountain top.

“I bet yer Ma’s happy tha ye brought us both, Si.” Simon nods in response to Johnny's comment.

~Simon’s POV~

I’m nervous. So, so nervous. Not even Johnny was this quick to ask to see my family, but then again he knew me before we knew we were soulmates. It took a while before I offered for him to ‘meet’ them. But now I’m driving to the ferry to let her meet them. It’s nerve-wracking, it truly is. What will she think when she sees the graves? Sees the date on the graves? Will she ask why my father isn’t there too?

I’m barely pulled from my thoughts when Johnny tells her to take a nap for the rest of the drive. I get fully pulled from them when I hear Johnny call for me.

“Si. Simon? Hon? Luv? Honey-boo-boo-bear?”

“Don’t call me that.” I say in annoyance, hating the overly sickly sweet way he said it just to annoy me.

“Whatcha thinking abou’?”

“I know he’s worried, I’ve been silent, more silent than usual, “Nothin’ hun.”

He clicks his tongue, “It’s not nothin’. Yer bein’ deadly silent over there. The only time you’re like that is if yer lost in yer own thoughts. So, what’s weighin’ on ye Si?”

I sigh knowing I can’t win when he’s onto me, “I’m just worried s’all.” I say as I reach for my pack of cigarettes.

Johnny’s hand stops me.

“Two things; We dinnae ken if she’s okay wit cigarettes, and just tell me, dinnae keep it do yourself.”

I groan and stop my movements of reaching for the cigarettes.

“Just what I thought when I brought you ta meet them, ya know? The date on the graves, the graves themselves, the absence of my father’s grave.”

“Oh Si.” He says as he reaches over and grabs my hand before placing a soft kiss on it, “If she asks, ye can answer or say yer not ready to, I’m sure she’d understand.”

She probably would. I think she would. I hope she does. Johnny’s made me at least somewhat calm.

~A bit later~

She’s still asleep… I should wake her up. I decide to wake her up by gently placing my hand on her shoulder and lightly shaking her awake.

“C’mon Luv, wake up, we’re here.”

My voice, a bit gruff, opposite of my touch, wakes her up.

“Hm?” She hums as she rubs her eyes.

She grabs the flowers she brought for them and we head to the ferry. The whole time I want to hold her hand, but we haven’t discussed boundaries yet, maybe just holding part of her hand will be okay. I link my pinkie in hers. I can feel her jolt in surprise, did I make a mistake? Then I feel her relax and curl her pinkie around mine… thank god.

Once we get there she looks over the scenery… And the gravestones. After a minute or two, she turns around and faces me, there are… Tears in her eyes? What surprises me more than the tears is when she hugs me; it’s tight, and warm… And needed. So, so needed. I hug her back, just as tightly, but a bit gentler so as not to accidentally hurt her; one arm around her waist, and the other holding her head. I look at Johnny and he gives me a sweet smile and a thumbs up as he sets down the blanket, once the two of us are done hugging, we sit on the blanket and I explain a small bit to her, all the while she hasn’t let go of my hand.

Maybe everything will be alright.

Taglist:

@under-the-dirt @littlebluespoon @actuallyhiswife @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @cdej6 @whynotbad @kaoyamamegami @oooof-ifellforyou @aldis-nuts @fanngirl19 @zealouspursecowboydeputy @inarabee

#ghoap x reader #ghost x soap #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #soap x fem reader #ghost x female reader #soulmates #Scarred Love

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starstruckunknown-princess · 1 month

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Sweet Pea - Steve Rogers x Reader

Sweet Pea (Lathyrus odoratus) - Meaning: Thank you for a lovely time, farewell

Summary: While on the run, Steve comes to reader for comfort. What starts as a series of one night stands turns into so much more.

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 955

Warnings: Allusions to smut, Steve leaving notes and being sweet, domestic fluff, dirty notes and drawings, the Blip, angst, Steve freaking out

Day 14 brings us some fluffy angst with our favorite Nomad!

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, comments, and reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You kept the notes squirreled away in a small box in the back of your sock drawer. Steve always left one, using whatever scrap of paper was nearby. After the first few notes you’d taken to keeping post-its and a pen on your nightstand, which he used from then on to leave you his sweet farewells.

The first few notes were stiff, formal, things like ‘Thank you for a lovely time, Sincerely Yours, Steve’ or ‘I truly appreciate you, Best, Steve’ like he was thanking you for picking up his dry cleaning rather than letting him fuck you into next week.

At the beginning of your relationship, he’d only come by your safe house after dark and would leave almost right after you passed out. The more times he visited, the more comfortable he got and the longer he would linger. Sometimes you’d wake up in the wee hours with him spooning you, snoring adorably, but he’d always be gone by morning, a note left for you stuck to your coffee maker, a full pot already made.

He was sweet like that.

‘Thanks for last night. You’re incredible. <3 Steve’

‘I’ll miss you, but I won’t be gone long. <3 Steve’

‘See you soon, beautiful. <3 Steve’

The little doodled heart next to his name made your heart stutter.

His visits became more frequent, from once every few months to once a month to every other week or so. More often than not, you woke up next to him. The first time that happened you’d shaken him awake, afraid he was late to something or needed to go. He’d smiled his classically handsome smile and simply folded you back into his arms.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. “I don’t have to be anywhere for a while yet.”

A while yet turned out to be two full days with Steve. At first, you weren’t sure about his presence in your house, thinking he’d be bored out of his mind, but he found some home projects you’d been neglecting and did as much as he could in the time he had. The domesticity of it all was a new kind of intimacy that neither of you were familiar with, so there were some awkward moments trying to figure out each other's routines and particularities. But once that initial adjustment period was over, everything felt…natural.

You feared this would be the end of his sweet little notes, but instead of the end the notes started popping up everywhere. Sometimes it was a flirtatious note, sometimes a quick drawing of something silly or pornographic or a reference to something he now understood thanks to your pop culture tutelage.

‘I love your tits in that top ;)’

‘Meet me upstairs when you’re done in the garden’

‘I definitely didn't use the last of the milk, it was a ghost. Who ya gonna call?’

The drawing he did of you pegging a suspiciously Steve-shaped Deadpool was probably your favorite. That one got taped to the fridge.

While he was on the run, you were more than happy to provide him a safe place. His touchstone when he needed a reminder that he was still a human being. A place where he could fully shed the fugitive mantle and act like a normal person.

He gets the call from Nat while he’s rehanging drywall in your upstairs bathroom. They needed him to get to Edinburgh, some weird readings were coming through whatever scanners she had. You were at the grocery store, so he grabbed the post-its from his side of the bed and wrote a note.

‘Got a call from Nat, gotta go save the world again <3 Love you, Steve’

He stuck it where he’d be sure you’d find it, on the fridge, next to the naughty drawing that you loved, and made sure to lock the door when he left.

A few days later, the truck he’d commandeered screeched to a halt in your driveway. His heart pounded in his chest as he thudded up the porch steps and threw his shoulder into your front door, busting it open — he’d fix it later, he had to know.

He called your name and ran from room to room, searching for you desperately. Half the world was gone, and he couldn’t waste another second without knowing if you were one of them.

He’d already lost Bucky. He couldn’t lose you too.

Up in your bedroom he found his answer. On the bed, spread all over his side of it, were all the notes he’d written you. On your side, nothing but a hint of dust. His legs went numb, but they managed to bring him to the end of the bed before he collapsed, gripping the duvet and some of his wayward notes.

Steve couldn’t hold back anymore, so he let the tears fall pitifully — first Bucky, then Wanda, Sam, T’Challa, so, so many others. And now, you were gone too. The one person who could have possibly helped him hold together what was left, had already done that once before after his schism with Stark. He’d come to you shattered and slowly, carefully, you’d glued him back together.

“Steve?” your quiet voice asked. At first, he didn’t move, convinced he was hearing things until he felt your small hand on his shoulder.

He turned, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer before he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his wet face in your stomach. More tears fell, but these were from relief.

“You’re alive,” he chanted, voice muffled by your tummy. You shushed him gently, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m here, Steve,” you promised, “I’ll always be here.”

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #mcu fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #the blip #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve x you #fluff #angst

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: none. readers gender is kept ambiguous as always

↳ song: teir abhaile riu—david downes

masterlist!

• The Doctor had crash landed in a field somewhere off the coast of Great Britian, a rough six hundred years before the destination he had been trying to reach

• TARDIS was a champ about it of course, taking the beating without so much as even a dent, but that did nothing to quell the Doctors complaints. He had meant to be visiting modern London, not a completely unknown century

• "Bloody hell." He sighed to no one in particular, running a hand down his face dramatically before pouting. "I really need to start inputting those numbers in a wee bit carefully, aye?"

• That's how you had found him next to the TARDIS—hands in the pockets of his trench coat and glancing idly around the surroundings, looking completely out of place in the rolling green hills

• You had been ordered by your captain late last night to take over the mornings rounds by all yourself, hence the lonesome trot you were partaking in along horseback around the country side

• Still, after seeing him things didn't stay lonesome for too long

• "Hault stranger!" You yelled loudly, voice slightly muffled from underneath your metal helmet. "State thy name and purpose!"

• Quickly turning to face you, the man before you and your steed took a second to observe the both of you before giving a cheery shout, snapping his fingers loudly

• "The middle ages! Of course hah! How lovely!" His smile and little laugh would have been infectious under any other circumstances, but you didn't join the Queen's royal gaurd to make friends. Much less mistakes in your duties

• It didn't take long before you drew your sword, even if a bit hesitantly. You had always been chided in training for your sense of mercy, but this man didn't seem to be hurting anyone. He was a bit odd yeah, but not a threat

• "Ah, there's no need for that my noble friend. I mean no harm, I'm simply a traveling doctor." A brief pause. "Ah, although I was wondering if you could tell me the exact year? And possibly, who's ruling? Not Queen Victoria I hope." His brown eyes sparkled warmly, eyeing you curiously. You furrowed your brows and blinked, knowing he couldn't see

• "Er, tis 1467 sir." Came your careful response. "And I do not know this Queen you speak of. I only serve her majesty, Queen Woodville and her husband, the king." As you spoke, a newfound wave of confusion swept over you. Just exactly who was this fellow?

• "One last thing." Your sword was now back at home in its sheath, not bothering to make another appearance as he approached you. "Could you possibly take me to the closest town? I've always wanted to visit the human middle ages!"

• "Well—"

• The next thing you know, you were riding back to town, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a voice chatting jovily in your ear about how beautiful the place is

• "—ook at all of these people! Such a small city but so many people! I wonder how the economy has been able to survive. And is that a blacksmith? Was he the one to make your armor? Becuase it is quite well crafted if I do say so myself." A quick knock to the back of your chest plate punctuated his point. You felt your lips turn up slightly at the corners before forcing your expression back into more of a frown

• "I made it myself, actually. I was planning on being thy local blacksmiths assistant before my folks signed me up for the royal guard."

• You recalled the day your parents had sat you down at the dinner table your father had made from his bare hands, informing you that the rest of your days would be carried out from underneath a glinting suit of metal instead of fhe heat of the forge you had come to love

• A bittersweet feeling overtook you for a moment, and you had a feeling the doctor behind you noticed. If he did however, he didn't mention it

• The rest of the ride was carried out in relative silence

• "This should be it, sir." The horse carrying both of you stilled in front of a pair of magnificent wooden gates, prompting you to swing one leg over and hop off the saddle

• You were quick to turn and offer a hand to the doctor in hopes of helping him down, only to find him already setting foot on the ground with a grin stretching from ear to ear

• "Lovely! Yes yes ye, absolutely lovely! The craftsmanship on these gates are centuries outdated of course, but still lovely nometheless!" He babbled on and on as if you weren't standing five feet away from him, waiting to see what he would do

• Finally, the strangely dressed man you had stumbled across faced you once more

• You had never noticed how soft of a smile he had

• "Thank you for accompanying me to this place." He said, scratching the back of his neck absent-mindedly. "I must say, I never got your name, knight. Have I, ah, earned the pleasure so to speak?" He added on the last part with a chuckle, stuffing his hands into the insides of his pockets once more

• You swallowed what felt like a throat full of freshly picked cotten

• His face quickly lit up as you uttered your name slowly to him, copying you a few times as if to taste the way your name sounded rolling off his toung

• "A fitting name." Was the cryptic response he offered

• "And yours, sir?" You finally asked. "I never got thy name either."

• A sharp glint flashed in his iris’s for a moment, almost as if he knew something that you didn't

• "Just call me Doctor." The man—no—the Doctor responded

• "Doctor who?"

• A soft chuckle

• "Exactly." He smiled. And with that, he slipped past the gates you were certain had been locked a moment ago, a flash of something blue peaking out from his coat pock

• The next time you saw the Doctor would be years later, when the strange interaction had all been cleansed from your head

• But that's a story for another time

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carusolikey · 1 month

Text

The Blue Hour

a Max Phillips & Bloodsucking Bastards FanFic

Summary

In filmmaking and photography, the most coveted time of the day occurs just after sunrise and just before sunset - when the sun’s angle as it hits the earth’s surface produces a beautiful, perfect glow on everything the light touches. Naturally, it makes sense that it is known throughout the industry as The Golden Hour.

The opposite of this is known as The Blue Hour, taking place in the quiet before sunrise and scantly past the precipice of sunset - when the sun’s position scarcely below the horizon casts its cool tones. As the ripe colors of The Golden Hour are exsanguinated from the landscapes and cityscapes, the tranquility of night with its alluring promise of sleep creates an ambience that is both calming and nostalgic.

In this tale, we find ourselves caught in the midst of a months-long web of insomnia, cycling through night after night - doing our own bidding in the wee hours undisturbed by any other residents of the apartment building. Until one fateful night, when an unwelcome interloper by the name of Max Phillips decides to crash a 5 minute dance-party-for-one in the basement laundry room.

He’s handsome and well-dressed for a pharmaceutical salesman, but has the type of charm you’d assume from someone peddling snake oil. And somehow, he keeps popping up when least expected, creeping in like hedera helix - invasive English ivy, covering the outside of our brick building, eager to infiltrate what lies beneath.

To resist this dapper vampire, might very well prove to be futile.

Pairing: Max Phillips of Bloodsucking Bastards x afab!fem!reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW 18+ (No Minors)

Author’s Note: I wrote this piece during the month of April 2024 - Adenomyosis Awareness Month, and the idea came to me during March 2024 (Endometriosis Awareness Month). This will not have any type of pregnancy kink, but will touch on infertility of OC due to the aforementioned; canon for this story is also that Vampires are infertile - there will be no Renesmé. OC is intended to be around the same age as Max, reader’s choice up or down, but no age gap. Because older afab/fem lovers are sexy - we drink and we know things. The style of this sticks to the humor and playfulness of the original movie, while incorporating a very sexy and romantic Max, even though he is a little bit of a cocky, smartmouth asshole.

Warnings: A bit of rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration - P in V, oral [m + f receiving]), food play, 18+ only content, able bodied fem afab reader, alcohol consumption, non-gendered pet names, fem can be carried and has hair - though length is not mentioned, consensual "bondage", some use of y+n - but not explicitly, though consensuality is implied and intended through actions and reactions, no protection used for Vampire reasons TBD (be wise and always use protection, this is fiction). Did attempt to stay away from gendered pronouns and nicknames, although did use the word woman, 3 times throughout the entire piece (not fully published yet) referring to OC. Future chapters will discuss history endo / adeno, and of previous relationship / SA; there will also be Vampire hunting, murdering, and blood….sucking bastards.

Word Count: ~ 7,250 (For Chapter 1 Only)

Chapter 1 - Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Easter Eggs Chapter 2 - Spotify Playlist Chapter 2.1 Easter Eggs Chapter 2.2 Easter Eggs Chapter 3 - Spotify Playlist Chapter 3 Easter Eggs Chapter 4 , Part 1 - Spotify Playlist Chapter 4.1 Easter Eggs Chapter 4 - Lost Flower Easter Eggs Chapter 4, Part 2 Chapter 4.2 Easter Eggs

If you enjoyed this first Chapter, please don't hesitate to share the wealth of Max by reblogging - we all know he loves the attention!

Additional FanFics:

Paddington 3: Lost in Mallorca

Javi G. x afab!fem!reader

High Heat, Heavy Load

24 year-old Joel Miller x 36 year-old afab!fem!reader - subverting the patriarchal age-gap fic one fan at a time.

#Pedro Pascal #Max Phillips x afab!fem!reader #Bloodsucking Bastards Fic #Adenomyosis Awareness #Endometriosis Awareness #Not Twilight #NO Renesmé #Hey Check Out My Javi G Fic #I Got a Sexy Young Joel Miller Fic Too

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soufcakmistress · 1 year

Text

In the Heat of the Night

A/N: Babies what is good!!!! I am so rusty but I’m so happy that I got this out for yall. Yall know I love me some Jonathan Majors, but I don’t write for real life folks. That’s just MY preference, no shade to those who do. Please comment and like and reblog to let me know how yall feel. Let’s get into it!

The south side felt different duting the summer. Kids were out of school, frolicking in the streets and turning on the fire hydrants. The ice cream man made several stops throughout the neighborhood, the old heads played their card games and dominoes until the wee hours of the morning, and the bars stayed packed with ladies and gents to take a load off. Summertime Chi felt larger than life.

Delphine Freeman sat up in her bed and stretched her arms to the sky. Looking behind her, she saw an empty bed with nothing but a small note on her husband’s pillow. “Picking up some things for breakfast. Be back soon, my love.” She picked it up and held it to her heart. That man of hers.

Delphine remembers the first time she encountered Atticus. Her family had just moved from Virginia, and she was totally new to the Midwest. At first, it was hard making friends at a new high school in a new place. Her accent and bumpkin ways attracted the wrong kind of attention among these city folks, so she kept to herself. Until one day when Atticus was helping his club attract new members, and he passed a flyer to her in the hallway. “You should come. Who knows, you might find a friend here.” He had her, hook line and sinker with his gentle way and sweet smile.

Atticus looked like 6 days of beautiful creation from God above AND the seventh day of rest to her - she missed seeing his face this morning. Delphine laid back against the pillow that smelled like him and reminisced on their roller coaster ride of a relationship. Fighting entitled white people over magic and who it really belonged to and his birthright, his trauma from Korea and monsters straight out of a pulp book— nobody with sense would ever believe it. The storm was over now, and her and Tic lived in peace, as well as holy matrimony.

The memory of her betrothed looking so debonair in his suit on their wedding day made her heart palpitate. Her legs squeezed together, recalling those shoulders filling out that blazer and kissing those lips as they said ‘I do’. She especially loved the surprise on his face when the ceremony was over and she slipped her hand in his pants right outside their wedding suite and him allowing her to take what was hers. “Oooh, I love that man.”

She was feeling frisky now. The window was cracked with a moderate breeze flowing into the room but Delphine’s heat couldnt be contained. Flashes of him saving his entire family from catastrophe, him shirtless and bespectacled reading aloud one of his favorite pulp books while he laid in her lap, the look of adoration and love when they bought their home on the South Shore. Tic was all man….and all hers.

Sweat dripped between her large breasts, her coochie ached in the best way and she couldn’t take it anymore. Delphine took Tic’s pillow and put it in between her legs. The reflection of her in the vanity bureau with her slinky nightgown raised up on her hips made her feel like she was a bit unhinged. If she didn’t cum now, she would lose it. So she rode that pillow like its name was Atticus Freeman and he was the only thing that could satiate her.

Her clit hit the seam of the pillow so precisely, it almost took her over before she was ready. “Shit, shit….oooh Tic baby…damn..” She pushed the straps down from her nightgown to expose her breasts and she really got to moving.

The key in the front door lock clicked with Tic lumbering in with a couple brown paper bags of breakfast stuff. He went to the kitchen to put everything away, but could have sworn that he heard something from the shared master bedroom. He got the baseball bat they kept in the coat closet and inched toward the room. Tic pushed the door in slightly and what he was met with could have knocked him on his back.

His sexy ass wife rubbing her pussy in figure 8’s on his pillow. Tic made sure to be quiet putting the bat along the wall, and rubbing his crotch slowly to take Delphine in. He knew when she showed signs of her incoming orgasm— shaking her head back and forth, fingers tangled in her hair, stomach fluttering…..she was almost there. When she finally shouted in delight, he couldn’t take it anymore.

The sound of a zipper coming down and broke her out of her trance. Delphine gasped when she saw her fine ass husband staring with bedroom eyes and pouty lips that made her wanna howl to the moon. “Looking for this?” He pulled his dick out of his pants and a deluge of fresh slick coated the meeting place between her legs.

Delphine almost started up again on the pillow but when the object of her deepest affections was just as hungry for her, it would be criminal to not take advantage. “Damn straight. Bring yo ass over here, four eyes.”

BB King played on the kitchen radio, and the lovely couple made breakfast together. Tic already put on a hot pot of coffee, and he sipped on a mug as he fried up some bacon. Delphine stood next to him in one of his shirts and panties, making her famous blueberry pancakes. Both hummed along and caught cute ass glances at each other, floating on their sensual high. It felt so good. Not having to worry about what the next day held and being allowed to just live.

The phone rang while Tic started cracking eggs, and he wiped his hands on the tea towel. “Freeman Residence. Lester, my man! What’s shaking? Nothing much brother, just me and the Mrs. making some breakfast. She’s doing VERY well, I’ll let her know you asked about her.” Delphine turned around with feigned shock when he said that, knowing his subtext and that he blew her back out for the ages just twenty minutes ago. She walked over with a huge smile and popped a blueberry in his mouth and kissed his lips.

He pinched her butt when she went back to the stove and finished chatting it up with Lester. “Sunday? We’ll be there brother. See ya then.” Tic looked at the calendar on the wall next to the phone, to see if there was any extra obligations needed for the guidebook and his aunt Hippolyta. He also did some math and tried to remember his wife’s last cycle. “That’s why she’s so frisky…”

Lester had a block party over where he stayed in Bronzeville, and it was jumping! All kinds of rhythm and blues and guitar singers filled the south side with a plethora of food to choose from. Little girls playing jacks and double Dutch, little boys doing bike races, the teenagers making googly eyes at each others and the elders trading recipes for lemonade and greens. Everybody would pitch in and bring something for the community to enjoy. Delphine took all of Friday to make 5 sweet potato pies from scratch and Tic grilled so many slabs of ribs, it was insane. Irene, Lester’s wife was tight with Delphine; her and the other young women gossiped while sipping beers on their stoop.

“Uh oh, ‘Phine. Tic is over there getting rowdy at that card table.” Irene loved to tease—he was putting them back and with each hand he won, the louder his voice carried. “Oh hell. Lemme go feed my baby.”

Delphine made Tic’s plate with everything he loves — ribs, chicken, potato salad, cornbread, sausage dog with relish and an ice cold Budweiser. “Hey baby, you been doing a whole lot of drinkin but not a lot of eating. Come on now.” Tic acquiesced and moved with her away from all the men. She sat on his lap at an empty table and fed him some of the food before he took over, and started feeding her too.

Tic’s skin was all tan and his arms and pecs were bulging in his shirt. He didn’t even have to try to get her riled up. Delphine rubbed his back, and absentmindedly played with his ear. “All right now. You know that’s my spot.” They both had their fair share of alcohol that evening, and Delphine usually would have to beat Tic off with a stick. The shoe was on the other foot now. “Tic……I don’t have any panties on..”

He almost choked on his beer when his minx of a wife started talking so salacious like in his ear. “I like this Delphine. She takes what she wants. What you trying to do? Only if you say it, will you be able to get what you want.” Delphine’s skin pimpled because he meant every word. All the ruckus and commotion around them meant nothing in that instance. Just her and her husband. “I want you to take me in that alley…..and do whatever you want to me..”

That sinful jawline clenched, and she knew he would do just that. Wasn’t any more talking. He drained his beer, and dragged her down a few streets to a secluded alley. Delphine stood at the brick wall, flushed with the strap of her linen dress down her arm. Tic cradled her face and they kissed each other so deeply that they breathed for each other. She undid his pants letting them fall to his knees, and he picked her up.

Delphine was so wet, the slick was almost to the inside of her knees. Tic’s thrust was so strong, they both gasped aloud. “Yes Tic, fuck me hard!” His face lived in the crevice of her neck, licking and kissing. Just like every muscle on his sculpted body, Tic was rock hard and filled her up so deliciously. The same BB king song from the other morning played and they were able to hear it still. Everything swirled around the both of them and yet nothing at all mattered. His low grunts were so sexy and she could tell he was about to cum.

“Oooh I love this pussy baby, I love this pussy….I fuckin love you!” Atticus filled his wife up all the way that it spilled down her legs and the heat of it all triggered her to orgasm. She pulled him in even more and he expelled more of his love inside her. Tic brought her down to her feet, and she stumbled immediately. Tic steadied her and stuck his tongue down her throat yet again. “Atticus Freeman….the man of my dreams..”

The guidebook was doing so well.

Atticus and Hippolyta had been able to come to an agreement on operations; Atticus would be able to make final edits and handle submissions to the publisher and Hippolyta would be able to do most of the trips to update the stops. She acquiesced to Tic’s request that he would join her to assuage his nerves if she went more than 3 states away.

The book was flying off the shelves and Hippolyta had been able to meet some publishers in Kansas City and Detroit to put in some local Negro owned shops and apothecaries. It was the second Saturday in August, and the entire South Side would be at Washington Park for the Bud Billiken parade and festival. Delphine and Tic packed up their station wagon with fold up chairs, a cooler full of beer and pop, and more food to last a winter. Dee was finally feeling better and she rode with you guys to the Bud as she was Delphine’s favorite little cousin.

Everybody was rocking and rolling to the marching bands and majorettes. Delphine and Dee looked at all the floats and picked their favorite one. “Oooh Dee, you see the grand marshal? That’s a good lookin man!” She made sure to say it in earshot of Atticus; she loved him a bit jealous and possessive. He cut his eyes at her, smirking behind his beer. “All right now, don’t get in trouble.”

“Baby, there is nothing more that I would love to do than be punished by you.” Delphine stuck her tongue down her husband’s mouth, and Dee gagged at the public display of affection. “Y’all are so gross I swear!”

The grand marshal announced who had the best float and the best marching band in Chicago, and the party went on until late in the night. “Come on, dancing queens, let’s get y’all home.” Atticus loaded the car up and Delphine and Dee fell asleep in the backseat holding each other. Atticus looked in the rear view full of gratitude and unbridled joy at his two girls. He stopped at Hippolyta’s house and carried Dee inside.

Delphine moved to the front seat after and waited for her husband to drive them home. The angles of his face illuminated by the streetlights made him even more handsome in the low light. She couldn’t help but to stare. That same feeling from that other morning came back with a fierceness. He felt her eyes on him and winked at her. “You looking like you still hungry for something…..”

“That mouth on my body…that’s what I need.” Delphine sat with her back to the door and lifted her dress, pulled her panties off, and put them in his lap. Tic took them and sniffed them and was instantly engorged. That station wagon moved a little quicker then.

Fireworks were being shot near the lake and Tic and Delphine had a clear view from their balcony. “Ooooh let’s see baby! Her ass clapped in her dress and Tic had to grip his meat walking after her. “Lemme make sure the shoggoth is okay first. Keep it tight for me baby.”Tic went to the basement and fed the shoggoth and calmed him down since they were gone all day. He had it down to a science now. Feed him a racist white man a day, and he would cooperate.

Delphine was out on the balcony totally enthralled. She jumped like a little kid when several popped at once, entrancing her with the bright colors. Standing at the window, he just gazed upon her. How did he get so lucky? Tic joined her on the balcony, wrapping those muscles around her waist. All the kisses behind her ear made her giggle just like how he intended. While she was off guard, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and lifted her dress in one motion. “Now what you doing back th—OH!”

He slipped right into her pussy with the most earth shattering intrusion Delphine could ever experience. “Shhhh shhh. We have to be quiet. Now Mrs. Freeman…..I think I know what’s gotten into you cuz I did the math. It’s that other time of the month, ain’t it?”

A breathy yes fell from her lips and it clicked for her. She was always incredibly horny and with shiny hair and skin at this particular point of the month. “You tryna have my baby?” Tic whispered in her ear, and pinched her nipple as his hips stroked back and forth. “Delphine, are you tryna make me a father?”

She loved when he got rough with her, especially when they were at risk of being seen in the act. “Yes, Atticus give me your baby.” His hands gripped hers on the railing and he let her have it. Delphine had already came twice but Tic was always generous; he wanted his wife to be satisfied. “Here it come..” Atticus held her right to his chest and gave her devastating thrusts and came deep inside her. Her head rolled back on his shoulder and they stood together still united as one as the fireworks show gave the finale. “I love you so much” they both said in unison and gazed at the sky.

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#soufcakmistress #atticus freeman #lovecraft country #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #jonathan majors #atticus x oc

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callsignfate · 5 months

Text

rustic charm

Day Seventeen of Writemas/Birthday posts!

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here

TW: None? If I've missed any let me know!

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡ Kate needed a break from the city and its people. The endless buildings and standard scenery were boring her. After a friend of a friend mentioned they had a place for her to enjoy the countryside, that's exactly what she did.

The car's tires crackled and dug into the rocks and dirt as she pulled into the driveway, driving slowly down it as she saw cows starting to walk towards the fence she was driving next to, mooing loudly.

She stopped at a big red house that sat in the back of the property. An older man patted what Kate assumed was his daughter on the shoulder and said something before he and the woman next to him climbed into a truck and left as Kate parked.

She stepped out, slapped in the face by the smell of cow manure piled nearby. Her face contorted into a small expression of disgust as you walked up to her.

"Welcome, darlin'. I heard you were the city girl coming to help on the farm?" You asked, trying to stifle a laugh at her face of disgust from the smell. "It's manure day; people are coming to collect it for their fields," you added with a smile as you put your hand out to shake hers.

"Nice to meet you. I'll be showin' you around the place and teachin' you how to do the farm chores," you added before she took your hand.

"Nice to meet you too," Kate muttered with a polite smile until she jumped slightly as she felt a wet, cold sensation on her exposed ankle.

"Oh, that's wee Lass, call her Lassie. Go on, git'," you said swatting the air slightly before she ran back towards the field. "She's good, just nosey. Let's grab your bags, and you'll be staying in the room next to mine," you said as you opened the car's trunk and started grabbing the bags as you spoke.

"Oh, you don't have to—I've got it," Kate said, trying to help you grab her bags.

"Oh, it's alright, darlin'. Let's get inside before all of the cows come runnin' over; they get loud when they want attention," you said with a small laugh before you easily carried the bags to the house.

"Thank you," Kate said, noticing how easily you carried the bags, how willing you were to help, and how sweet you were to her right away.

"Hope my car treated you alright; left it at the airport for you last night. Hope the drive wasn't too long, and don't worry about it; these are lighter than the hay bales I throw around," you said with another small laugh. As you led Kate into the house, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief from the city's hustle and bustle. The country air, even with a hint of manure, was a welcome change. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting. A mix of rustic charm and modern conveniences made the house feel like a comfortable haven.

"You've got a beautiful place here," Kate remarked, genuinely appreciating the simplicity and authenticity of the farmhouse.

"Ah, thank you, darlin'. It's been in the family for generations. Now, let me show you around," you said, leading her through the cozy living room, where the scent of fresh wood lingered. The walls adorned with family photos told a story of a life rooted in the land.

The kitchen was spacious and well-equipped, and the view from the window revealed the vast greenery stretching out to meet the sky.

As Kate settled into the room next to yours, she took note of the carefully chosen furnishings and the thoughtfulness in every detail. It was evident that you cared for the place deeply. The next morning after Kate fell asleep in the homey feeling space she was shocked to hear soft knocks before she welcomed you in to the room before her eyes glanced out the window to see it was still dark. "Time to get up, cows need some hay, and some feed the chickens need to be let out of the coop, the waterers need to be filled, the ducks need some food, the pig wants his feed and some treats." You listed off the chores as you carried in some overalls, a pair of tall rubber boots, and a thick shirt for her to wear.

"mornin' dear," you greeted her with a cheerful smile as she finally sat up in the bed. "The farm waits for no one, you know? Time to embrace the country routine."

Kate, still half-asleep, nodded in acknowledgment. "Alright, I'm up. But can I just say it's still practically the middle of the night?"

You chuckled. "City time and farm time don't always sync up. But trust me, once you get used to it, you won't mind the early starts. Its already 4:45am, I usually start at 4:00."

With a good-natured grumble, Kate changed into the farm-appropriate attire you provided. The overalls were a bit big on her, but the boots fit perfectly. As she followed you outside into the pre-dawn darkness, the fresh, crisp air invigorated her senses.

The farm was a different world at this hour. The stars still shone brightly, and the moon cast a soft glow over the fields. The sounds of the animals awakening gradually filled the air.

You demonstrated each chore patiently, explaining the routine of caring for the animals. The cows lowed in the distance, the chickens clucked in their coop, and the rooster crowed loudly in the distance.

By the time the sun painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Kate had forgotten the early hour. The simplicity and purposeful work had a grounding effect. The connection to nature and the animals made the chores more fulfilling than she could have imagined.

As you both finished up the morning tasks, you turned to Kate with a satisfied grin. "See, not so bad, is it? The farm has its own magic, especially when you're a part of it."

Kate, though tired, couldn't help but smile back. The exhaustion was different, a result of meaningful work and a closeness to the land she had never experienced before. The simplicity, the authenticity, and your warm companionship made her appreciate the charm of farm life.

As you headed back to the house, Kate realized that the farm, with its early mornings and hard work, had become a place of solace. And in you, she found not just a farm guide but a friend who welcomed her into this world with open arms.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

A/N: I may have a Pt. 2 to this and a version where Kate is the farmer! I do live on a farm so this was just something fun to write and if you think the accent is written poorly its because I've never written my own accent (I have one sadly). I also am 21 today! yay?

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here

#kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #laswell #call of duty laswell #laswell cod #laswell mw2 #kate laswell fluff #kate laswell x you #kate laswell x fem!reader #kate laswell cod #kate laswell call of duty

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sgiandubh · 10 months

Text

A stupid shipper's guide to the Peloponnese, part 1: Olympia and its hidden gems

Easily the most hectic vacation ever. Also, one of the most awaited because after three years of pandemic craze I was finally able to cobble a sort of satisfying itinerary. And hoped to indulge very (high maintenance, ahem) important people I shall mention strictly nothing about: some things are just for me, said someone essential for this fandom. So I agree with thee, Ms. B., in all your transparent assertive glory, since we know exactly who you meant.

Also, almost nothing about the first five days spent in ludicrous nothingness, mediocre sunbathing and seafood gluttony on the perplexing little island of Aegina, roughly 45 minutes East of Athens by speedboat. Ah, Aegina, your fabled misty light, your pistachio groves, your pilgrims coming in droves by above speedboat in the hope to be cured by Saint Nectarios' relics (kept in a horrifyingly huge vault of a church the size of a Saudi mosque), your cunning & idiotic taxi drivers... Three days is ideal. Nine nights was a sore mistake, so we cut the apple in half and left this faux Ha-wa-wee sunrise view from the terrace:

With the help of my stellar mechanic in the capital, we managed to recoup two-thirds of Plan A and immediately hit the road to Olympia, home of those Games and of my favorite museum in this corner of the world. En route, we had way too many pit stops, ate unwashed nectarines on the side of the road, juices flowing obscenely on forearms and cursed the industrious maintenance works blocking all the traffic: this is Greece, after all, a (deeply loved) country like no other, and thankfully not mine.

In the process, traded Ha-wa-wee for this serene olive canopy and immediately jumped in the pool:

By the next morning, I had managed to fully catch up with the Scots/Mex Tattooed Female innuendo and found it a) not funny, b) desperate enough to be of her own making and c) completely tasteless and irrelevant to any given narrative line favored by this Nagasaki of a fandom. Such vulgar paucity needed a strong antidote: follow me to a place of beauty and grace, floor temperature 55 Celsius /131 Fahrenheit.

The Archeological Museum of Olympia is one of the more compact affairs of the kind, but it makes up for this shortcoming with a superbly curated selection of just about the best of the diggings.

Things like this. It could be mistaken for its Chinese contemporary, but it is a Corinthian horse, circa 5th century BC :

Or this representation of Nike/Victory, not as formidable as the one at the Louvre (which to me is Freedom itself), but still:

Spandex or not, who cares? Heh.

Or the Temple gallery, where the statues are presented in the Munich Glyptothek style, for an immediate punch in the gut effect:

Shippers watching the Narrative unfold:

Not that Wedding:

Oops. Stupid shipper further doxing herself - no makeup, dehydrated, but resilient and insufferable (firmly intending to remain so). Hi there, Mordor, bet the farm we never met?

By way of contrast, a classical representation of Anon:

Which one of the Negationist Trifecta? Place your bets, ladies:

All of us pondering a comment:

#oohdembuns: Hermes' buns, as seen by Praxiteles, to be exact:

Note the rugged back - rings a bell? I would bet handsome money Anna Foerster knows something about this particular statue. Historically speaking, the reason it remained unpolished is because it most likely was ensconced in a niche of sorts. This is the kind of objectification I wouldn't mind being a part of on a daily basis, by the way.

Face view of the above. The midsection focal point has been piously lost in the sands of time. Never mind: not the leaked MUA reel, either - that's most likely baby Dionysus, the one S has to intensely pay lip service to, as we speak:

Turning right to the Roman room. PA TMcG on payday:

Toga pleats are a major turn-on for this stupid shipper:

Onwards to Mycenae. Had to split this in two, for convenience.

A very different vibe, for sure.

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ms-scarletwings · 5 months

Note

Do you slander Dib out of spite, or because watching the little loser try to get his way and utterly failing is fascinating to document, or maybe because justice should be made to the idiocy and disfuncional braincells of his character? Or maybe all three of them? Perhaps a secret fourth thing, even?

I slander Dib because he slanders my peop- uh I mean, yes. You’re mostly right. He’s a great antiheroic antagonist, warts and all, and he deserves a fair slice of the justice pie in this post Florpus era now more than ever, me thinks. Don’t let the updated art style or the fandom blobofication fool any, especially the newer riders. This has always been a Vasquez setting and if there’s two beautiful things I’ve learned are true to Johnen’s work, it’s that his universe(s)

• are quite whacky

• refuse to leave room in the spotlight for Gary Sues and wee pwecious cinnamon rolls

And I respect the fuck out of both of these qualities. This isn’t “haha ESH” family guy kinda writing, it’s writing that doesn’t fear gritty textures or unsanded corners for its characters. It’s also I think a huge part of how they were able to stay so engaging and fascinating over so much content while having relatively minuscule serialized character development- Why Dib episodes work on their own even without Zim, why Zim episodes still work even when taking place completely off of Earth, and why we can’t ever stfu about either of them so many years later. They already came in with a full deck of dimensions, flaws, and personal conflicts that you can stretch out for an enormous amount of entertainment. If you make a character that I am just as happy to root for as I am giddy to laugh at their failures, I think you’ve done something neat.

I don’t think it comes out of spite, though. Judge it whatever you will, but I think I slander this boy for sake of tough love. Pretending it’s spite is just funnier (-᷅ w -᷄)

All the same, if you really want the tea on the not so secret fourth thing, Dib, for all his Dibness…. is frankly a notoriously relatable twerp. Out of the mainest main cast, I’ve at least found his deal the easiest to empathize with.

A final note, on the topic of my general regard toward Dib “Agent Mothman” Membrane:

#invader zim #iz dib #dib membrane #iz #NOT Dib slander #answering asks #scarlet talks about things #scarlet rambles about things

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hyperfixated-gvf · 1 year

Text

Baby, It's Cold Outside

On the third day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A One-Bed fic with whiny sub!Jake, and it's a Neighbor's AU, too!

Christmas Song Pairing: “Christmas Eve" by Justin Bieber

Trope: One Bed

~~~

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, F. Dom, M. Sub, pet names, a tiny bit of restraint, a single tear, begging, oral sex (f. receiving)

Words: 4.4k

Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind words and generous reblogs, tags, and comments, they mean the world to me! They're also addictive, just so you know ;) Anyways, this one got away from me a bit, so I've decided that each boy will have one longer smut piece and the others will be short and under my self-imposed word limit. Except for Danny. My love gets all the long smut.

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

“Mom, I frew up.”

You almost slammed the door on Jake’s face when he tiredly looked at you with his mournful, moony eyes, but the fact that his own joke only made his lips twitch told you that he actually had a reason to be at your apartment door at 1:45 am.

The twins were good neighbors. Relatively, at least. You could sometimes hear them arguing through the wall, and other times, you had to send them a text to get them to stop playing their instruments into the wee hours of the morning. Your little duplex townhouse walls weren’t all that thick, but other than the occasional noise complaint that they always dutifully listened to, you were glad to have the happy-go-lucky musicians next door. With how many game nights you’d had and beers you’d shared, you’d even go as far to say that you were friends.

So, you sighed and leaned against the frame, looking at the man expectantly. “What do you need, Jake? This beauty needs her sleep.”

Jake nodded back to his own place, making a face that was both pitiful and disgusted at the same time, which was quickly explained when he said, “Josh brought someone home, and usually some headphones will fix it, but…oh god, please don’t make me describe my trauma.”

He shivered in the cold December air, and that’s when you realized that he didn’t have shoes on and the only clothes protecting him from the wind were his threadbare sleep shirt and equally frayed plaid pajama pants. All in all, he looked like a little puppy, trembling from the cold and without a place to sleep for the night.

You were no monster; there had been enough nights in your life as a roommate where you wish you didn’t have ears at all that you recognized and acknowledged his pain, but the thing was, you weren’t sure what he wanted you to do about it.

“I won’t. But I..sorry, I’m just not sure what this has to do with me.”

Trying to make it as gentle as possible so that you didn’t put him off, there was really no roundabout way to go about the question. Especially not when its answer would get you both out of the cold.

Jake furrowed his brows in confusion. “Oh. Sorry, I just thought, you know, maybe I could use your guest room? I mean, if you’re comfortable with that,” he said quickly. “We’ve been neighbors for a couple years now, but I don’t want to assume anything. I would rather ask and get rejected though, than try than have to deal with that,” he said venomously, looking back at his place with that same pronounced frown on his face.

You appreciated his attempts to make it your decision but, again, there was just one problem. “I don’t have a guest room,” you explained, grimacing as his face fell. The situation must have been dire if he was that downtrodden after finding out that your second bedroom was an office since…well, since it was just you living there. “But…my couch does double as a futon. It’s not super comfortable, but if you wanted to crash there, I guess, feel free.”

Pure relief spread across his features, and you opened the door wider to allow him in, cursing yourself for not just bringing him in at the beginning and saving you both some body heat. “Anything,” he muttered, quite seriously. “Literally anything else but what I was dealing with over there. She sounded like a fucking banshee giving birth. And there’s no way my hobbit brother is that good with his dick.”

You snorted, retrieving some sheets from a bin in your hallway closet. “Your hobbit brother… that’s also your twin? That one?” Jake bobbled his head, but didn’t say anything as he began to tug at the back of the couch to free the bed. “Also, it doesn’t have to be his dick,” you pointed out, but Jake shook his head violently at your revelation.

“No. No, no, nope, no thank you I am finished thinking about that twerp in any way, shape, or form for the night.” His words were less convincing when they shook like a dog’s growl as it played tug o’ war. He seemed to be losing the fight with the couch, and you stood there, shamelessly admiring his form in half-amusement and half-serious appreciation.

He had a backside that was better than yours, and after all the years of being ogled at by men as you went about your daily tasks, you figured the universe could look away this one time.

“Oh shit!” he yelped, falling back on that perfect ass as the couch came half-loose with a pop, a grind, and then the tinkle of tiny, flimsy metal screws hitting your floor.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, staring at your mutilated couch that was now propped up on one end and slanted in a way you were certain it wasn’t supposed to slant. And didn’t seem all too eager to go either back down or all the way out, no matter how much you half-heartedly pushed at it.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N,” Jake said defeatedly after a moment. The apology was clear in his voice, and you knew this was bound to happen sooner or later; the couch was, after all, a remnant from your college days. Even then, it had been a curbside find that you and your roommate had tied to the roof of your car with borrowed bungee cords. “I’ll buy you a new couch.”

While you wouldn’t decline the help, it obviously wasn’t his fault entirely, so you shrugged and returned the blankets to their place in the closet. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. Contribute a fourth of the cost to a discount couch from Facebook Marketplace and I’ll let you off the hook, destructo,” you joked, turning around to face him again. Now that the couch option was gone, Jake was clearly unsure of where he stood, staying at your place.

“Your bed doesn’t happen to be a bunk bed, right?” he asked dryly, knowing that it wasn’t from the very few times he’d seen it. It got a small chuckle out of you as you thought about your options, considering a few different solutions when Jake sped the process up. “Well, sorry to bother you, Y/N. Thanks for letting me almost-crash here. I’m gonna…go bash my brains out.”

It was obvious he wasn’t fishing for anything else – he was genuinely expecting to go back to his flat of sin without another thought to finding a different solution, but you quickly took the few steps to get to him before he took off and met his questioning gaze. “Wait, Jake. Just…it’s late. Stay here, we can share the bed.”

Neighbor friends could totally innocently share a bed. Call it the proverbial cup of sugar.

His eyes grew saucer-wide, and he jerked his head back slightly at the suggestion as if you’d just proposed he buy a leather flogger and build a dungeon. “Are you sure?”

You looked at him, completely deadpanned. The late hour was getting to you, and you just wanted to make it to bed before the sun came up again. “No, I was pulling your chain.” Jake smiled sheepishly as you continued, “Yes, dumbass, I’m sure. I offered, after all. And in the name of complete platonic-ness, either join me in bed or sleep in the street. Up to you.”

He obviously chose to follow you into your bedroom, and since both of you were already in your pjs, you slipped under the blankets as if it was the most natural thing ever. “Thank you again, Y/N,” Jake whispered, once you’d flicked the lamp off.

“I’d say any time, Jake, but if you wake me up at this god-forbidden hour again because your brother is having sex, I’ll move.”

You heard his huff of laughter at your empty threat and you smiled, too, already starting to drift into that hazy state between sleep and consciousness. The fan and low brown noise you had playing from phone was enough to drown out the strangeness of someone else in the room with you – the extra intakes and exhales of breath, the scratch of blankets, the dip of the mattress – and you would have been totally content to fall asleep then.

If it weren’t for Jake’s incessant moving.

The first time he shifted, it was fine – didn’t even register. But then he rolled over again. And again. And again.

“Jake,” you groaned, flopping your hand behind you without a care for where it landed. “Stop fucking moving.”

“Sorry,” he responded softly, voice a little higher than normal.

That would have been that, but then it wasn’t rolling over, but he was obviously still moving, and you could feel it. You might have had a Queen-sized mattress, but that didn’t mean you weren’t unconsciously hyper-aware of someone else in your bed when you were used to sleeping alone.

“Oh my god, Jake,” you exclaimed exasperatedly, turning your lamp on and abruptly rolling over to see just what the problem was. “What is wrong? Are you sleeping on a pea or something, princess?”

In the dim light from the wax melter candle plugged into your wall, Jake stiffened, and he didn’t answer.

Thinking your words came out too harshly, you sighed. “Sorry. I’m not mad, I’m just trying to sleep. Seriously, though, what’s wrong? Do you need to cuddle to get to dreamland or something?” you joked lightly in an attempt to clear the air.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Jake’s answer was so soft, you nearly didn’t hear him. But once his words registered, you furrowed your brow, confused and a little offended that he couldn’t even crack a joke back, because now you felt a little embarrassed of your joking suggestion. “Okay. Because one of us is a ticking time bomb or something? I wasn’t being serious, Jake.”

The offense must have shown through your thinly-veiled attempt to hide it, because Jake was silent for a second, and then croaked out, “I wouldn’t want you to hate me.”

Now laying down again, facing away, your confusion outgrew your offense, and once again, you rolled over, seeing that Jake had remained stiff as a board with his back to you. “Why would I hate you?” you asked genuinely, less edge to your voice.

But Jake didn’t answer. Didn’t have to, because when he shifted again, the movement originating from his hips and obviously something Jake was trying to suppress. You finally took in the way he was scrunched up, knees pulled to his chest and arms tucked where you couldn’t see them. You recognized that position, from one past boyfriend that always seemed to get an erection at the worst possible times.

“Are you…” you let the sentence trail off, and Jake sighed out a shaky breath.

“I’m not a creep, I promise,” he said with conviction, if a little shakily. Out of nerves, arousal, or fear, you didn’t know, but you felt bad for him all the same.

Sometimes it happened – you knew that. It was basic anatomy. It was also basic anatomy to understand why the blankets started feeling a little warmer, and why you began to get the same impulse to shift your hips as Jake seemingly had. There was a very attractive man in your bed, hard and a little vulnerable because of it, that you admittedly had experienced fleeting thoughts of desire for.

“Jake,” you said softly, breaking the tense silence. “I don’t think you’re a creep. And I also don’t want you to think I’m a creep.”

Jake peeked over his shoulder at you, straining his neck to catch a glimpse. “What? Why would I? I’m the one who got in your bed and– and fucking immediately got an erection.”

“Mmmhh,” you hummed, acknowledging the truth of his statement. “But I’m the one who’s having filthy thoughts about it.” When you heard his swallow harshly, you delivered the final blow. “And I’m the one about to offer to help you take care of it. If you want, of course,” you assured lowly. “If not, you can use the bathroom and we’ll never speak of it again.”

You waited on bated breath for Jake’s response, and he finally responded, his voice breaking in the middle of the word, “Please.”

Excitement lit up your extremities, and you tingled with a newly-found energy as you rubbed your thighs together, your body’s natural response now magnified tenfold with the promise of action. “Thank you Jesus,” you breathed, waiting for Jake to turn around. “Come on, Jake. Show me what we’ve got.”

He hadn’t so much as touched his shoulder blade to the mattress when you pushed the covers off, licking your lips at the tent in his pants. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” Jake asked, watching you watch him with a predatory gleam in your eye. “Because I’m pretty sure this has happened before, but I woke up with a mess to clean in the end. It wasn’t fun.”

You chuckled and gently put your hand to his cheek. “I dunno. Does this feel real to you?” You planted your hands on his chest and swung your leg over his hip. Once you settled your weight over his cock, a broken noise escaped his lips, and his hands came up to rest shakily on your thighs, flexing up into the friction. “Feels pretty real to me.”

“Pretty damn real,” he repeated, gulping down air and squeezing his eyes shut.

Shifting your hips so as not to torture the poor man, you watched him accept your gifts, and eventually his face relaxed as he let you work. “Good. I have to ask, though: what got you so worked up in the first place?”

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to peel your shirt off, not when you wanted an answer. But the unwavering attention that Jake payed the slight sway of your breasts, moving with the little shifts of your body, was a suitable second prize. You upped the stakes again, though, splaying your hands out under his shirt and working it off, as well. The growing wetness between your legs was already beginning to demand more, and you didn’t intend to keep either of you waiting for long.

So instead of insisting on an answer, you got off and relished in the small whine that came from the man who blinked sluggishly at the loss of your weight and heat against him. But when you unceremoniously stripped your pants off and then smacked his hands away from his own drawstrings, you said, “No. My house, my rules, Jake. And the rule here is that I get to unwrap all the gifts you’ve brought me tonight. Such a good guest,” you cooed, dragging his plaid pants down until his cock sprung back up, bobbing with a shiny tip that was begging to be sucked.

Not one to keep yourself from what you wanted, you bent down and thumbed across the skin of his hip at the taste of salty precum, spreading across your tongue as you swiped and swirled it around his head, pulling off with a pop as soon as he gasped and bucked his hips up. “Please don’t stop,” he asked, so polite even worked up as he was.

“But you never answered my question,” you laughed with a shake of your head, mounting him again and spreading your cunt so that you could rub your clit along the length of his cock for your own relief. He moaned quietly and took what you gave him, no attempts to change the pace, the pressure, the movement – nothing. “You’ve been so good for me otherwise, Jakey. Answer me, and then I’ll get you all suited up so that I can fuck you. Get you the good relief you deserve.” He struggled to keep his volume down, but you saw the way his lips trembled. “What got you so worked up?”

He was apparently more desperate than he let on, though, because when he was able to find his voice, it was a weak little whimper that sent another wave of arousal through you; so much that it made your head spin with want. “The sheets,” he whined, fisting them in his palms. “They…they smell like you. And when you— you…”

With your grinding becoming nearly too slippery to continue, you knew you had to fuck him soon before he came from this alone. “When I what?” you asked, climbing off of him to retrieve a condom.

You wiped him off for safety and then made sure the latex was securely on before you poised him at your entrance, waiting for his final answer.

Jake watched your with hooded, hazy eyes, desperation written out on his features. “I liked it when you called me princess,” he admitted quietly.

You smiled victoriously, sinking down on him until his balls were pressed against your ass in one go, and you felt him twitch inside of you. “That’s so sexy, princess,” you admitted. “Thank you for telling me.” Your eyes closed as you stretched yourself out on his cock, beginning to bounce on him. The resulting audio was almost better than the visual. You wouldn’t have pegged Jake as one to beg in bed, but he had been brushing off all the subconscious labels you’d attached to him since arriving.

“Holy shit,Y/N, oh god, your pussy is–” he cut himself off with a grunt as you slid your hands up his arms to his wrists to pin his hands to bed, watching as he immediately clutched at the pillows above where they lay, immovable with your weight resting on them. “Hold me down,” he cried out. “I– ah-h– please, please, please, fuck me harder,” he whined, shifting his hips up as you came down, the explicit sounds of skin meeting skin slapping out into the silence.

“Yeah?” you panted, loving the way you had front-row seats to every face his features morphed into as you experimented with him – taking notes of what made him tick. “You like it when you can’t move, princess? When you can only lay there and take it?”

He nodded, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you lurched forward on your thrust down, taking him for the ride of his life. “I’ll take anything you give me, beautiful,” he breathed, straining against your hold as he got closer to finishing. “I don’t mind it a little rough.”

“Good to know.” You leaned down and let your hips slowly grind in circles as you pinched the skin where his neck met his shoulder between your lips, nipping it before saying, “Keep your hands there, and don’t make me tell you twice.”

Jake agreed willingly. “Anything.”

Your nails scraped lightly down the undersides of his arms to his chest, where you dug them in to make little crescent marks and continued your quest to make him cum harder than he ever had before. “Fuck,” you moaned on an exhale, trying to find your own g-spot with Jake’s dick. “You’re so good for me. Who knew that Jake Kiszka, rockstar extraordinaire, was such a whiny little princess in bed?” you chuckled, looking down at his red face, his shiny, open lips, his hooded eyes, looking at you like you hung the moon. Just to drive the point home, you combed your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly along his scalp until you reached the back, where you tightened your grip to make Jake shout and arch back, exposing his throat to you. “That’s it,” you cooed. “Let go for me. Give it up. Cum inside me.”

He was obviously holding himself back, and he told you why when he panted out, “What about you? I wanna– I– please, please don’t make me cum yet,” he begged, squirming underneath you but still not letting his hands dip below where you’d put them and told him to stay. “I want to feel you cum with me! I don’t want to cum yet, I don’t want to be a bad fuck– I always make them cum,” he claimed, still thrashing, trying to get way from the steady pleasure tightening his balls and making him leak, getting him harder and harder and harder. “I can make you feel so good, Y/N, just let me– let me– shit, FUCK no no no no noooo—” he moaned, long and low and pitiful.

His pleasure manifested throughout his entire body and he lost control for a second, jerking and spasming as he filled the condom to the brim. His teeth were bared as he drew breaths in to fuel the sobs and grunts that came out, his arms moved listlessly against the sheets in a sacreligious snow angel, and you could feel his legs twisting and bucking as you continued to ride him into oblivion.

You finally slowed once a single tear fell from his eye. Wiping it away, you sucked the pad of your thumb into your mouth, watching his chest and stomach heave with a deep-seated satisfaction running through your veins. Still buzzing with excitement and arousal, you finally leaned down to kiss him, grinning as he kissed back desperately, vying for your every touch, word, and request and pliable with the desire to please you.

“So needy, Jake – crying because I wouldn’t let you help me cum. But don’t worry, princess,” you murmured, smoothing his hair back away from his fucked-out face. “I still intend to collect my pleasure. And these perfect little Cupid’s bow lips are going to get me there.”

He kissed your fingertips as you skated them across his mouth, whispering, “Thank you,” and then pushed himself up on his forearms, moving to crawl between your thighs. And as incredible as that would be to see, you stopped him with a palm in the center of his chest, pressing him down to the mattress once again.

You shook your head. “Ah, ah. I quite like seeing you on your back for me,” you said, licking your lips. “You’re so pretty splayed out like this.”

Jake made a strangled noise and didn’t protest even for a second. “Works just fine for me, beautiful. Come here; let me show you how grateful I am for taking such good care of me tonight.”

He tugged at your hip and you went willingly, turning around so that you could see every shift, flex, and squirm of his body as you positioned yourself over him, hovering just above his face. You hummed. “Ready for me?” His response was to pull you down against him, and your clit throbbed as soon as it got friction again, making you sigh. “That’s it, princess, show me what that mouth can do. I want to feel how thankful you are that I let you into my bed,” you said breathlessly, starting to move and ride him again, this time higher up his body, but just as good. “That I was so understanding when you couldn’t control that cock of yours and that I used it so that you could get off.”

Even though you hadn’t established it (and you really should have), you lifted off of him when he tapped you, making sure he could breathe. But he didn’t take that time to take any deep breaths, only to say, “Don’t forget about the couch,” before licking into you again.

You smiled at his reminder, and reached back to grip his hair again. His whine traveled throughout your pussy and made him sucking on your clit just that more enjoyable afterwards, sensitive from the vibration. He was quickly torn away from you as you bore down with more pressure, feeling your clit brush his bottom lip and then his tongue as he stuck it out for you to use for your pleasure. “You’re right. We can figure out a proper consequence later, though. You were begging to make me cum; I don’t think I should reward you for breaking my shit.”

With him manipulating that particular muscle, you quickly approached the peak you’d caught sight of while riding his dick, and you didn’t stop this time. You did, however, reach down to take his sensitive cock in your hand, roughly pumping it up and down until he cried out into your cunt, just to see him twist in overstimulated pleasure.

“Come on, Jake, get me there, just a little bit more,” you directed, feeling your orgasm balloon inside of you. “Yes, Jake, yes, yes, yes– there you go-ooo, princess. Just what you wanted,” you keened, keeling over as you lost the strength to stay upright. You let Jake lap at you for a little while longer, shivering as he gently brought you down by avoiding your clit, but laving attention on the rest of your pussy. He cleaned you up like that, gathering all the excess slick on his tongue and swallowing it down.

You were sure that he’d suck on you until you told him to stop, but eventually, you dismounted him, your stomach clenching as Jake made a small noise of complaint as his oral fixation was taken away.

“Come here,” you sighed, opening your arms for him. You weren’t about to let him go to sleep without proper aftercare. It only took a small roll for Jake to plaster himself against you, legs tangling with yours, his fingers skirting across your skin as he wrapped his arms around you, and a sigh that puffed out warm against your throat as he relaxed into your embrace.

This time, when your fingers made their way to his long locks, you were gentle in petting him, softly massaging the back of his neck as your other hand rubbed comforting circles on his lower back. “I think I lied,” you said sleepily, and Jake made a questioning noise against your skin. “I think I want you to come here every time your brother has sex from now on. Okay?”

Jake placed a lazy kiss to your neck. “Is it okay if I don’t wait for Josh to sex? Who knows when the next time he gets lucky enough that someone looks down and sees him will be,” he giggled, fully aware that he was only a half-inch taller.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your limbs. “Mmmm. Yeah, princess. You come over whenever you want to. I’ll keep the bed warm.” With one last kiss to his brow, you closed your eyes.

Thank goodness for your shitty college couch.

~~~

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fallingforel · 5 months

Text

Promptmas day 5- Matty Healy- naughty v.s Nice

this prompt in the series is one of the hardest to write for, that being said its a very whiplash piece, with smut and then fluff- like hardcore fluff. Anyway on with the show MNDI 18+ (also please pee after sex!! we dont want any nasty UTI's) All prompts have come from abiiors christmas prompt list the original post can be found here

words: 797

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"You look so beautiful with your legs over my shoulders" Matty says voice muffled with how far he was in my pussy, tongue divulging into my hole before licking a stripe up to my clit sucking it flicking it while his fingers worked my hole. It didn't take long before thick white stripes were hitting Matty's face and my breaths were few and far between while I saw stars. He waited for me to get my breath back before he dived towards to my face, "lick" He says to me pointing to his face where the white liquid lay before I start slow and sensually licking my hot insides off his face. "Messy girl you are." He says "Yes, sir" I say before hes kissing me again with need.

I drag my nails across his back and down towards his jeans and boxers he swats my hand away. "AH AH AH. Wait princess, got to do something first. Can you do that for me?" I nod. his hands go around my throat, "Words princess. I won't ask you again. Can you do that for me?" "Yes, sir" "Good girl, I knew you had it in you" he says before he starts kissing my neck biting it sucking it, making a hickey.

"Now" he demands I start taking his belt off, then undoing the button and the zip sliding it slowly down his legs before they dropped to the floor I then kissed up his leg, moving up towards just above where his boxers lay before hooking my fingers around the elastic and pulling them down making his dick spring up.

placing open mouthed kisses from his belly button, on his we are kings tattoo then kissing across to the one on his ribs before kissing up to his true love Annie tattoo, then up to his neck then to his chin before reaching his lips. Both putting need into the kiss while straddling Matty's dick sliding my self on to it.

rolling my hips before bouncing however Matty soon flipped us round so that he was on top slamming his dick into me frantically trying to find the g spot moving my legs in all sort of ways before his fingers moved their way to my clit grazing it at first flicking it nudging it and rubbing it making me get to my high before my G spot could "Matty 'm gonna" "me too baby, let go at the same time" He whines out throwing his head into my neck before we both release at the same time. and he goes to slide out before I say "No." "No? You usually get off right away? Is everything okay baby?" "Just want to stay like this, with you inside of me for a while." "Okay. We can do that. anything for my girl. wanna lay on my chest?" He says hand rubbing across my face the cold of his wedding band shocking me. I nod "Okay darling." He flips us so that I'm on top laying on his chest.

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His hands instantly find my hair running one of his hands through them, massaging my scalp and placing kisses on my forehead we stay like that in silence for a while before he says "Gonna have to get you and these sheets cleaned up sometime baby, you need to go for a wee aswell. Don't forget our families are coming Tommorow" "Don't remind me, I haven't wrapped up their presents, or prepped for tomorrow's breakfast." "Is there anything I can do Sweetheart, I'll help you do the presents" "Yes please, Can you help me clean up I don't know If I can walk on my own." "Yes of course darling." he says.

He grips his hands on my thighs before moving the covers back and standing up with my legs round his waist, moving towards the bathroom. Placing me on the toilet and letting me go for a wee, while he turns the shower on and goes to grab the towels holding them while I finish on the toilet wash my hands and then jump in the shower before he puts the towels on the toilet and jumps in the shower along with me wrapping his arms around my waist from behind burying his head in my neck "You're so beautiful darling." "Thank you pretty husband" "Love you Mrs Healy" "I forget that's my name. Almost a year since we got married now New years day, I love being married to you." "I love being married to you too. You make life so much better when I'm with you" "Stop trying to get on Mr claus' nice list, your already on the naughty list from what we did earlier" "I'm always on the nice list darling" he says.

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end.

#masterlist #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty the 1975 #matty healy fic #matty healy #matty x reader #matty healy smut #christmas75 #christmas prompts

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e-wills-afterhours · 1 year

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Yay prompts! Forehead kisses! Palm kisses! Hugs from behind! Soft affection makes me melt

A/N: You want soft Hiccstrid, I'll give you the softest Hiccstrid, my friend. You know how I do. *cracks knuckles* Obviously, I write in my own AU where RTTE never happened. This should surprise no one by now.

Rating: T+

Softly, Tenderly

------

The first few moments of wakefulness could be disorienting. If the night that preceded it was wild, and the sleep was deep enough, one could almost forget who they were and where they had collapsed before they drifted into vivid dreams, almost sure to be forgotten in the morning.

Hiccup found himself staring at the ceiling, putting colorful pieces together in his grogginess, until the wooden beams that crossed above his head and the familiar scent of old pine reminded him that he was home, in bed. Completely unremarkable a thing, by most standards.

What escaped him still was when and how he ended up there. Vague memories of food and drink, song and games, drifted to the forefront of his mind; all lingering thoughts of the Einherjar feast that went well into the night. Berk knew how to celebrate and honor its dead. Mead and beer flowed freely. It was a small triumph he could remember anything at all.

He rubbed his eyes then looked to his left. Toothless snoozed peacefully in the corner of his bedroom, with his large head resting on folded claws. Satisfied that his dragon was accounted for, Hiccup looked to his right, with growing awareness of another warm presence in his bed--which he had not anticipated.

His stomach flipped, and he sat bolt upright. Upon doing so, he realized, beneath his furs, he was completely and unabashedly naked. Also, minus one metal limb.

But the tousled blonde hair, unbound and strewn over his spare pillow, was familiar. The rise and fall of his companion's curves were as committed to memory as her delicate scent of rosemary and juniper, which greeted him like a hug. He could drown in it, let it consume him.

The momentary panic of alcohol-induced amnesia faded into relief and adoration. Astrid was beside him, just as naked and vulnerable as he was. She looked so peaceful, breathing slowly and rhythmically.

Like the glow of candlelight emerging from the darkness, flickers of their night together grew brighter and clearer in his mind: unhurried kisses and confident hands had carried them into the wee hours of the morning. Their clothes lay scattered about his room, her tunic as inextricably tangled up with his pants as their limbs had been, in throes of all their passion and sweat.

He leaned over and brushed haphazard strands of gold from her face, tucking them ever so carefully behind her ear. She was as beautiful when she slept as she was almost every waking moment.

"Astrid?" he murmured, placing a loving kiss on her neck. For good measure, he planted another one behind her ear, lingering a moment longer than he had with the first, closing his eyes and savoring the feel of her skin against his lips.

She stirred, humming to herself with a stretch. He stifled a laugh as a carless fist almost connected with his face. It would not have been the first time, but his reflexes had improved. Taking her wayward hand, he kissed the back of it before holding it safely against his chest, hoping the sudden beating of his heart would not startle her.

"Hiccup?" she whispered thickly, opening her eyes and blinking in bewilderment.

He smiled as she worked through that same initial confusion that he had, putting all the night's fragments into place.

"Good morning, you," he said, pulling her back against him, until their bodies met, oh-so-perfectly.

She did not resist, surrendering to the warmth of his skin on hers. They breathed together, and there was nothing better.

"Good m-mornin'," she yawned as he wrapped his arms around her, releasing her hand. "I almost forgot..."

Hiccup kissed her shoulder and she sighed, sweet and contented.

"Mmn. I'm glad you didn't," he said; he wanted her to recall every blissful moment, and every honeyed word he had told her.

She arched back into him, craning her neck until the tip of her nose brushed his cheek. Tender, fluttering kisses fell along his jaw. One of her hands snaked its way up to his hair, her nails lightly grazing along his scalp, making him shiver. She tugged on the little braids he left there for her, grinning. Only she could ever touch him like that; she had his heart, so she had the rest of him. She laced her fingers with his, of the hand that rested on her belly. Her thumb brushed affectionately over his minute scars and freckles, before she brought his hand to her lips.

"I don't think I could ever forget the things these hands can do," she murmured, before placing a couple of appreciative kisses on his palm. They tickled but left behind a subtle warmth all their own.

He smiled, and they shared a kiss before touching their foreheads together, blonde and auburn bangs mixed together. She turned into him, chest to chest, thighs against thighs, in a relaxed embrace.

"I don't want to go," she admitted, tracing idle patterns over the faded scars that adorned his chest--light, affectionate touches. "This is nice."

"Then don't," he replied. "I certainly won't make you." She felt too good, too right, in his hands.

Astrid shook her head. She sat up and began gathering her messy hair behind her head.

"You know I can't," she said, deftly weaving her hair into a loose plait. Her skill in braiding, particularly when her mind was elsewhere, was awe-inspiring. "People will talk."

Hiccup scoffed and rolled onto his back, arms folded behind his head. "People already talk. It doesn't bother me."

Astrid smirked. She bent over and kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, which he wrinkled playfully. "It's different for you."

He frowned, cursing the double standard he'd rather not acknowledge. "I know, I know..."

She caressed his face, and he leaned into it. "One day, I won't have to sneak out of here. By then, I bet you'll be dying to get rid of me."

"Impossible."

Her blue eyes twinkled. "Oh, yeah? You won't simply 'get used to it?'" she teased, adopting one of his more common phrases.

"If I'm used to it, then I'm probably dead."

Astrid laughed, and it was a beautiful sound. She threw her arms around him and curled into his side, head on his chest. He did not often have cause to feel like her refuge, because she seldom ever wanted or needed one. In such moments, where she relinquished control and dropped her tough exterior, she gave into the comfortable pleasure of being held by him. He draped an arm around her, trailing his fingers up and down her hip, delighting in the goosebumps that arose with his touch.

"A couple minutes more maybe..." she said, giving him a fond squeeze.

He caught her beneath the chin and tilted her face up so their eyes met.

"As much time as you need," he replied, and kissed her forehead.

And they clung to each other no longer concerned with cheap gossip and the passing hours. All that mattered was the warmth between them, keeping the rest of the world at bay.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #is it soft enough?#do you want it softer #I caught a fever from my kids and i am dEleRiOus friends #enjoy!

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fushiguroll · 2 years

Text

"WHY ARE YOU STILL UP?”

⇢ oikawa toru, sugawara koshi, miya atsumu, kageyama tobio

synopsis: the one in which he reacts to you sleeping late

ʚɞ OIKAWA Toru | the light peeking from the living room landed perfectly on oikawa toru’s sleeping face. “y/n,” he mumbles with the slightest of groans, “the light, the light, its in my eyes.” even in his sleep, oikawa can’t quite escape the dramatics. “y/n?” at your lack of reply, the sleepy brunette finally opens his eyes to find the empty space where your body should’ve been. he sighs and crawls out of bed, arms crossed, leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, watching you bite your lips in anticipation at the screen in front. “princess.” the sudden intrusion of his exasperated voice had you jumping slightly. “toru! why are you standing there at 2 am?” oikawa walks in front of the TV, hands placed on his hips like an angry mother. “me?! what about you?! what are you doing up at 2 am? I woke up because of you!” you look at him with confusion, “why? the volume is turned down so low...” oikawa shakes his head angrily. he’s always been so stingy about getting at least eight hours of uninterrupted beauty sleep. “the lights, y/n! now, can you please get your butt to bed?” “but, I got one more epi-” “no.” he strolls over and in one swift motion, turns off the tv. “I need my beauty sleep,” he glances towards you, “and evidently, you need some too.” “hey! that’s mean!” he ignores your pouts, walking back into the bedroom leaving behind a thinly veiled threat, “you better hurry, or no cuddles and I mean it.” “fine, I'm coming.”

ʚɞ SUGAWARA Koshi | suga is a classified class A clinger when he sleeps. and after two years of marriage, he’s grown accustomed to cuddling you, holding you close long after he’s fallen asleep. so when you replace yourself with a body pillow, suga immediately wakes up. “where are you going?” he asks. “I’m just gonna go check my emails real quick, see if there’s any emergency from work. I'll be right back, babe.” “okay,” he murmurs before closing his eyes. an hour later, suga wakes up again to an empty bed and glances at the clock flashing 3:14 am. “y/n?” “I'll be right in.” he rolls out of bed, not believing your words. you said you’ll be right back an hour ago. he might just be a little dramatic, but he’d rather not sleep than to spend another hour without you. he plops down right next to you, arms circling your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “ko, I said I'll be right in.” “okay,” he murmurs sleepily. “go in first.” “no, if you’re gonna stay up late, then I'm gonna stay up with you.” you smile as suga tightens his grip on you, head feeling heavier as he drifts back to sleep, still tightly clinging to you. The two of you eventually fall asleep on the couch and when the morning sunlight pour through the blinds a few hours later, your husband stayed in the same position, cuddling you like usual.

ʚɞ MIYA Atsumu | he is oddly very warm tonight. in fact, a little too warm before he realizes the blanket is draped across his body. what a rare circumstance to be in. where were you, his little blanket hogger? it’s not every night atsumu can stay warm, having grown accustomed to fighting you for the blanket at least twice every night. The faux blonde goes out looking for you, only to find you scrolling through your phone, laughing silently to yourself.“ya gotta stop watching TikTok til the wee hours of the morning.” he rolls his eyes when you dramatically clutch the phone to your chest, “tsumu, you scared me!” he walks over to you, asking you to scoot over with his butt. “get your big butt outta my face,” you complain as he forces you to move closer to the armrest. “let me rephrase, ya gotta stop watching TikTok til the wee hours of the morning without me.” you laugh as he grabs your phone from you. “what’s got you laughing like that earlier?” atsumu smiles when you excitedly point to the dog on screen. truth be told, miya atsumu loves his sleep, but he's come to learn, love sometimes comes in the form of TikTok at 4 am on a Monday morning.

ʚɞ KAGEYAMA Tobio | kageyama is a deep sleeper, once he’s asleep, he’s out like a light. The only exception to stir him from his deep slumber is his alarm clock or the need to use the restroom. tonight, it was the latter. Kageyama wakes up annoyed, having to go use the toilet when he made sure to go before he went to bed. guess he drank too much water earlier. as quietly as possible, Kageyama tries to get out of the bed only to find you missing from his side.“y/n?” he walks out into the living room, letting out a little yelp when he sees you sitting in the dark. “tobio? what are you doing up?” “me? I need to use the bathroom. what about you? why are you just sitting there in the dark?” “I'm not, I'm watching anime.” you point to the bright screen of your laptop, “see?” your husband shields his eyes from the sudden brightness, “okay, okay, turn it off, you’re blinding me.” “you’re so dramatic.” he glares at you before heading to the restroom, “you better be in bed when I come out.” “fine, I was gonna go sleep anyways.” “sure, you were.” A few minutes later, he joins you in bed, an arm automatically finding its way around your waist. “don't stay up so late,” he murmurs against your hair. “no promises, but I’ve always known you cared about me.” “why’d you think I married you?” “my charms?” “please go to sleep.”

reblogs are wildly appreciated <3

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