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amentomensmut · 3 months

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first time for everything pt2

Drug Dealer! Mike Schmidt x fem!reader wc: 5k

this is part 2 to my fic first time for everything! read the first part here.

Summary: After an unforgettable hookup with your friend Sara’s drug dealer, Mike Schmidt, you go to a college party to try and put a stop to your constant stream of thoughts about it, and more specifically, him. However, when you wind up bumping into the man you had been thinking about non-stop at the party, you can’t help but give in to the one person who started it all.

Warnings: 18+ content, so much banter. Like, so much. Mike is a smug bastard, alcohol consumption, swearing, kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names, fingering, cunnilingus, finger sucking, unprotected sex

Note: we are so back. also i really hope you guys like this omg. (p.s. sorry that this part has no cannabis use in it. I know that’s like kinda the whole point, but with the story i wanted to tell i couldn’t find a place to put it and i didn’t just want to shove it in randomly so i sorta just left it out.)

Like smoke filling up your lungs, Mike Schmidt has infiltrated your mind in every way possible.

Thoughts of him invading every corner and crevice of your brain, making them impossible to shake. To say the least, ever since you had the pleasure of meeting him, your mind has been rather occupied.

His lips on yours, the smoke from his mouth permeating your own, his hands on your body, your skin on his skin—it's all too much, you think. In fact, if you could go back and erase the entire interaction, you would. It’s the only thing you’ve been able to think about, and it’s all Mike Schmidt’s fault.

You wonder if he thinks about you too. You know it’s probably unlikely, but you can’t help but feel like he might. Like he also dreams about it. Like he also yearns for you again. Maybe he gets off thinking about it, like you do. You shake those thoughts away, however, when you come to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t as special to him as it was to you.

"Okay, Y/n, what the fuck?” Sara's voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you.

You whip your head around to see Sara standing behind you. Her arms are crossed against her chest, and her face is painted with a worried expression.

“What?” you respond, confusion evident in your voice.

“You’ve been staring at that wall for 20 minutes.” Sara says it with an accusatory tone, like she caught you doing something you shouldn’t be.

“I’m just thinking.” You shrug, trying to play it cool. I mean, you’re not lying. You were trying to do your homework, and then you started…daydreaming. Thinking. Whatever you want to call it.

“Yeah, I know. Thinking is all you’ve been doing this week. What’s going on?” Sara sighs, and you can see the genuine concern in her face. She sits on your bed next to your desk, trying to meet your eyes. You have a hard time lying to her, and catching her gaze will only make you more vulnerable, so instead, you choose to stare down at your homework.

“This isn’t like you. You’re the most studious person I know, and you can’t even focus enough to finish a couple questions. Tell me what’s going on.” She continues. You weigh your options. You could tell her you fucked her drug dealer. She couldn’t be that mad, right? Or, you could keep it a secret, but continuing to lie to her is the last thing you want to do. You let out a deep breath and just decide to bite the bullet.

“Okay, um, remember when I went to your drug dealer's house last week?” You wearily start. Sara nods her head, signalling for you to continue.

“Well, one thing led to another, and we kinda, sorta had…sex?” The room is silent after your confession, the weight of your words hanging in the air. When you look over at Sara, you expect to see disappointment or anger on her face, but instead, she's looking at you with one of the biggest smiles you've ever seen.

“I knew it!” Sara exclaims, jumping up in a rush of excitement.

“I knew there was a reason that you were practically glowing when you got back from his house!” You groan at her loudness, putting your hands over your face to hide your embarrassment. You should’ve known she wouldn’t have been upset with you; she practically shoves you at any man who gives you some sort of attention in the hopes that you’ll break your introverted habits. “Wait,” she excitedly adds. “Does this mean you can get me a discount?”

“No, Sara, I can’t fucking get you a discount. I haven’t seen him since it happened.” You say, and you try your best to mask the disappointment in your tone. I mean, what did you expect? That he’d come running to you the next day, get down on one knee, and propose? You knew it would most likely be a one time thing, so why were you so upset about it?

“So that’s why you’ve been so out of it this week. Plagued by the thoughts of a good fuck. Trust me, I've been there. ” Sara sighs dramatically, shaking her head like she knows this feeling all too well.

“I don’t know... as cheesy as it sounds, I sort of can’t stop thinking about him? It was so good, and now it’s all I think about.” You admit, and Sara takes her place back on the end of your bed. She takes one of your hands in hers, and she nods her head in an understanding manner.

“You know what you need?” She says, and you shake your head, "No.".

“To get your head out of your chemistry books and go to a goddam party! No wonder you’ve been thinking about him; all you’ve been doing is thinking.” She says, motioning to the copious amounts of school-related papers on your desk.

“Trust me, Y/n. The best sort of remedy for this kind of thing is to just let loose and forget about all your shit for a little while, you know?” As much as you’ve tried to avoid parties and distractions during your college experience, you can’t imagine there’d be much harm in going to one party. Besides, if you can get your mind off of Mike for a few hours and just have some fun, it’ll be worth it.

“Alright. Yeah, I think you’re right.” You say, and Sara jumps up excitedly as she begins to talk about one of her good friends that is throwing a party that night, and that it’ll be the perfect excuse to get away from all stress of exams. You nod along, a smile plastered on your face as you try to match Saras excitement. You’re not quite sure if this “remedy” will work or not; however, you’d just about try anything at this point. And like Sara always says, you’re a hermit, so this will be a good way to break you out of your shell. I mean, the last time Sara told you to do something, it ended up going better than expected, so what’s the worst that could happen?

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“Sara, I feel like I’m going to flash someone.” You say as you pull on the hem of your very mini skirt. The walk to the party wasn’t long, but your bare legs are cold and you’re itching to get warm. You’ve never really worn something as revealing as this, but Sara insisted you wear something from her wardrobe.

“Your skirt isn’t that short; don’t be dramatic.” Sara teases as she leads you towards a house that's booming with both music and people. You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. You haven’t been to a party during your time at college, and to be honest, you weren’t ever planning to. Focusing on getting your degree without any distractions was always your goal. An unrealistic goal? Maybe, but it had been working well for you up until a week ago. However, things don’t always go as planned, and now you’re stepping into a house full of sweaty, inebriated bodies and music so loud it makes the entire house shake. The air is thick and humid, and you’d get lost in the house’s dim lighting if it weren’t for Sara’s hand in yours guiding you through the sea of bodies. Your shoes stick to the floor as you walk through the house, and you know alcohol drunkenly spilled from overflowing, cheap solo cups is the culprit. Sara drags you to the kitchen, where all the alcohol is stashed.

“We should do a shot! To commemorate the first party of your college career!” Sara yells over the music, already pouring each of you a shot of tequila. You give a little laugh at Sara’s enthusiasm, and you nod your head in agreement. As you wait for Sara to hand you your drink, you notice just how many people there are. You watch through the kitchen window as someone throws up on the lawn. You wince a little at the sight and at the thought of how much alcohol they probably drank. You briefly wonder if going to this party was even a good idea, but you try to shake away any negative thoughts.

“Babe, you’re thinking too much again.” Sara says, waving her hand in front of your face as she passes you the shot.

“Sorry!” You half-yell, but Sara dismisses your apology with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t be sorry, just have fun!” Sara replies as she effortlessly downs her shot. You also attempt down your tequila; however, it’s not as effortless, and you grimace at the sharp taste of the tequila on your tongue. It takes everything in you to swallow it without gagging, and you wish you had something to chase it with.

“Fuck, that’s awful.” You groan as you pull a face. You don’t typically drink alcohol, and when you do, tequila is certainly not your first choice. Sara laughs and places a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s what makes it good!”

The next hour or so goes by pretty smoothly. You’ve essentially been following Sara around like a lost puppy, accompanying her as she greets her friends, which feels like just about everyone at this party. You watch as Sara effortlessly navigates the room, her laughter ringing out above the chatter and deafening music. As you stand alongside Sara, watching as she converses with a group of people you recognise as being on the school's soccer team, you feel a wave of insecurity wash over you, like an invisible barrier separating you from everyone else. You feel out of place at this party, and in a way you are. You haven’t been to a party in your three years at school, and now you've realised that you barely know anyone around here. You haven’t seen one familiar face, other than Sara, in the past hour and a half since you arrived here. You begin to wonder how different your college experience would be if you just got over your fear of people and parties, and went out like Sara had. You try to dismiss your destructive thoughts, but it’s no use. You feel like somehow everyone knows that you’re not really supposed to be here, and it makes your throat feel dry with anxiety.

“Hey, Sara, I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?” You loudly whisper in her ear, trying not to interrupt the conversation she was currently in. You’re anxiously wanting to get away from the crowd, and your body language shamelessly shows it as you bounce your leg and bite the skin off your lips.

“No, I’m okay,” Sara says, and you watch as her eyes survey your body, her eyebrows knitting together. “Do you need me to come with you?” She bends down to speak in your ear, although her words are slightly slurred, and you softly giggle at the way her alcohol intake has affected her speech.

“No, I’ll be okay.” You assure her as you walk away from the group, giving Sara a little wave as you make your way to the kitchen.

You had intended on getting a drink, but when you got to the kitchen and saw the door to the backyard, your desire to escape the muggy, stale air landed you on the back patio instead. Your lungs thank you for the fresh air as soon as you step outside, and the cool winter breeze feels refreshing on your sweaty skin. There’s still plenty of partygoers outside, but it’s certainly not as packed as it was inside. You watch as people play beer pong on a ping pong table on the lawn, and the sight only solidifies your fear of missing out. The sound of hearty laughter and the smell of weed only make you want to go home more, and you sigh as you push off the patio railing to leave. You turn around to make your way back inside when you see him.

At first, you thought it was your eyes playing tricks on you. Like you had been thinking about him so much that an apparition of him was here to taunt you. Like your thoughts of him for the past week had now turned you delusional. However, his eyes lock with yours, and now you so badly want it to be a hallucination, or your mind playing tricks on you. Dread washes over you and you wish you had never come to this party. You want the ground to swallow you whole when you see him beginning to walk towards you, and for a split second, you consider running away.

You mean for your words to come out nicely; you truly do. However, they don’t come out that way, and instead you say this:

“What the fuck are you doing here?” If your words shock or hurt Mike, he doesn’t show it as he now stands in front of you with that goddamn smirk on his face.

“I have a business to run, Y/n. But you’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you?” You’re not sure if you want to kiss or slap him, but you roll your eyes anyway at his smug tone. He gives an unbothered laugh at your attitude and actually, you’d definitely rather slap him right now.

“Your business is selling weed to intoxicated college students?” You retort with a scoff, crossing your arms against your chest like it’s a defence mechanism. You hate that his presence is making you jittery, but you hold your ground, your eyes never veering away from his.

“Funnily enough, they’re my top customers.” Mike smugly says, and you don’t even try to hide the scowl on your face. You squint your eyes at him, trying to read his intentions. He smells like weed and spicy cologne, and it immediately brings you back to his house, and more specifically, his living room. There's a pregnant pause between the two of you, and before you can work up the courage to say something, he speaks again.

“Cute outfit, by the way. Have you dropped the innocent act yet?” He asks, obviously satisfied with his words. He's clearly trying to get under your skin, and you won't let him.

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” You fib, shrugging your shoulders like the question is irrelevant. If he's going to try to tease you about your hookup, you won't feed into it.

“You know, after that night, I don’t think you can really call yourself a good girl. You’d be lying to everyone. You're lying to me right now.”

“Fuck you, Mike.”

“You should come by my house tomorrow. You're probably all out of the weed I sold to you last time you were around, right?” He says nonchalantly, changing the subject. You furrow your eyebrows at the change of conversation, and your stubbornness to let Mike have any satisfaction during this conversation doesn’t falter.

“I don't smoke weed.” You quip.

“Lie all you’d like, Y/n. It doesn’t change the truth.” He says, brushing a stray hair out of your face before walking back into the house without giving you another look.

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Usually people use the phrase “walk of shame” when you’re walking home from a hookup, however, that phrase pretty much sums up how you feel as you walk up Mike Schmidt's driveway.

You’re not sure how you’ve ended up back on Mike Schmidtd’s doorstep again. Maybe it was the satisfying sting of weed going down your throat and into your lungs, or the insatiable hunger for the man who supplied it to you. Either way, the front door is being opened and the man who you’ve been thinking about non stop for the past week is behind it.

“Had a feeling you’d be back.” He says with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you’re high before any weed has even entered your system.

“Don’t cream your pants.” You mutter as you push past him and walk inside. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t know why you were here, you both knew. After Mike left you at the party, you knew you were completely and utterly fucked. That any other attempts of trying to forget him would be worthless. That like a bee to a flower, you’d be back here, in Mike’s house, searching for the one thing you had been denying yourself for the past week.

“So I was right then, you’re all out of weed.” He says as he closes the front door. You take your jacket and scarf off, hanging them on the coat hanger at the door. You face Mike, who's currently leaning against the front door, watching you.

“Can I have a soda?” You ask, and Mike cracks a smile at the familiarity of the situation.

“I would’ve offered, but I wasn’t sure how long you’d be here.” He says, trying to bite back his smile. You follow him to the kitchen, watching as he grabs two cans of soda. Your fingers brush as he hands you the cold can, and you look up at him as he clears his throat.

“So…an eighth again?” He inquires, looking at you over his can of soda as he takes a sip.

“Mike, I’m not here for your goddamn weed.” You laugh. Mike laughs as well, and the exuberant sound is like music to your ears.

“So you came for my soda instead?” Mike teases, and you shake your head with a smile.

“I think you know why I’m here.” You say, and your cheeks heat up at the thought of what happened last time you were in his house. Your fingers tighten around the soda can at the thought of touching Mike again, and you so badly want to reach out for him.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. You weren’t very nice to me last night at the party.” He smirks, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. He places his soda can on the kitchen counter and tilts his head at you, waiting for your rebuttal.

“I was nice enough.” You simper, shrugging your shoulders. If he’s going to make you work for it, you’ll play along.

“Say please. I can’t believe I have to teach you how to use your manners.” He coos, and you huff when you realise you won’t get what you want right away.

“I'm very polite.” You stubbornly stand your ground, but you can feel your resolve weakening with every word that comes out of Mike's mouth.

“You might be polite, but apparently you forgot how to ask for things.”

“Please, Mike.”

His lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. All the build up from the past week, all the sexual tension between you and Mike is released into the kiss. The kiss is frantic and needy, like even being this close isn’t enough. His want for you shows in the way his rough hands grab any part of your body they can reach. You blindly slide your soda can on the kitchen counter before threading your fingers through his hair, softly pulling at the root making him moan into your mouth. He tastes like cream soda and weed and his hands caressing your body send a shiver up your spine, and you haven’t felt this way since the last time he touched you.

“You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you.” He says in a gruff voice as he walks you backwards and lifts you up onto the kitchen counter. You spread your legs so he can slot himself between them, and he presses soft kisses into your neck. His hands are on your waist, stabilising you as he kneads the soft skin there.

“I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.” You shyly admit, and he softly bites your neck, almost scolding you for your words.

“Are you serious?” He asks incredulously, removing his head from your neck to look at you. His heavy lidded gaze makes you feel nervous, and his reaction makes you feel like you said something you shouldn’t have. Your silence serves as an answer to his question and he shakes his head at you disapprovingly as he slowly gets on his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact. You suck in a quick breath at the sight of Mike in between your legs, and an involuntary whine escapes from your lips when he begins to undo the button of your pants.

“Y/n, the only thing i’ve been able to think about is you.” He groans, and you lift your hips off the counter to help Mike as he pulls your pants down over your ass. Your pants hit the floor and Mike is pressing open mouthed kisses into the insides of your plush thighs. He takes his time, kissing and sucking on the expanse of your thighs, and you think you might go crazy if he continues to tease you. Your thighs slightly close around Mike’s head, looking for any friction you can get. Mike lets out a laugh and you throw your head back in frustration.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you’d like?” Mike innocently asks, looking up at you as his mouth gets dangerously close to your pantie clad pussy. A sadistic smile paints his face and you put your hands in Mike's hair, trying to pull him closer to the place you need him the most.

“Mike, stop fucking teasing.” You pant, and a dissatisfied sigh leaves Mike's lips.

“I thought we talked about using your manners.” He mocks, and although he's the one on his knees in front of you, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s certainly still in control.

“Please, Mike. Please, I need you.” You beg, and not long after, Mike is licking a hot stripe up your covered cunt. You bite your bottom lip, your chest heaving as Mike continues to press messy, open mouthed kisses to the wet spot on your panties. His grip on your thighs is strong, and the feeling of his blunt nails digging into the soft skin makes your head spin. Soon enough, his thick fingers are hooking into your underwear and pulling it down your legs. He wastes no time, quickly latching his lips to your swollen clit and making out with your pussy like a man starved. Your jaw drops in pleasure, and your hand tugging at his hair makes him moan into you.

“Mike, h-holy shit.” You cry out, as he enters one of his long fingers into you. His tongue swirls around your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you, and the sounds of him eating your pussy are absolutely sinful. Mike replaces his tongue with his thumb, rubbing your clit in slow circles as he slowly enters another finger into you.

“You’re so tight.” He mutters, and his eyes are glued on your soaked cunt and the way it sucks his fingers in. He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, curling them upwards, hitting a spot that makes you jerk your hips upward.

“M-Mike, I’m gonna-” You start, but cut yourself off with a moan as Mike reattaches hip lips to your clit. With his fingers rapidly moving in and out of you, and his mouth doing god's work on your clit, you swear you’re starting to hear colours. Your thighs begin to shake as you start to grind yourself on Mike's face as you near your orgasm. You let out a loud moan as you finally release, the only thing you can feel is the pure pleasure surging through your body as you cum, and Mike coaxing you through it. Your breathing is heavy as you come down from your high. Mike removes his fingers and mouth from your pussy, pressing a final kiss to your clit before he stands back up in front of you.

“Open your mouth.” He softly demands, and you do, letting Mike shove his cum covered fingers into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the digits, humming as he lets his fingers travel to the back of your throat, making you gag. “That's it.” He praises, caressing your cheek as you suck his fingers. He removes his hand from your mouth and places them on your hips, helping you off the counter. He turns you around so you’re facing away from him, and he presses a hand to the centre of your back, bending you over the counter. He presses himself into you, and pushes your ass back against his covered erection. Mike leans over you, wrapping a hand around your throat to pull you up against his chest as he brings his lips to your ear.

“How could I forget about you when you look like a fucking angel when you cum.” He confesses in your ear, bucking his hips against you as he releases you, letting you fall back over the counter. The sound of him undoing his belt and pants makes you involuntarily clench your legs together, and you turn your head, watching as Mike spits in his hand and strokes himself a couple times before lining himself up with your pussy.

“Have you been thinking about this?” Mike taunts, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit.

“You have no idea.” You whine, pushing your hips back in an attempt to just get Mike to fuck you. However, Mike holds your hips steady, restraining you from grinding back on him.

“Enlighten me, then.” Mike responds, like he has all the time in the world. But to you, it feels like the end of the world with the way your pussy is throbbing and in need of stimulation. A defeated sob leaves your lips at Mike’s teasing,

“All the fucking time, Mike. I felt like I was going crazy.” You babble, and your words seem to be good enough for Mike, because he’s filling you up with his thick cock. All your thoughts, any worries you’ve had over the past week are gone. The only thing you can focus on is the way he fits perfectly inside you, and the way the grunts and groans leaving his lips sound like perfect melodies to your ears. His hips snap into yours roughly, and you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I couldn’t get high without thinking about you. You fucking ruined weed for me.” Mike admits with a laugh, like the whole thing is preposterous. His fingers work quick circles on your clit and you shiver as Mike places a hand under your jaw, lifting you so he can press kisses into your neck.

“Good. Maybe you’ll smoke it less. It’s bad for your lungs.” You breathily tease, and Mike sucks a particularly dark spot into your neck in response to your words. Mike continues his rough pace, and you clench hard around him.

“Gonna cum.” You whine and Mike only continues to fuck you, wanting to get you there. You cum for the second time, your body jerking as the overwhelming sensation hits you. Mike holds your shaky body up as he cums inside of you, letting out a strained “fuck” as his own orgasm washes over him. You both stand there afterwards, catching your breath as Mike release slowly begins to leak out of you and down your thighs.

“Did I seriously ruin weed for you?” You hoarsely ask in a disbelieving voice. You feel Mike’s chest rumble as he laughs, and actually, you think his laugh is the most perfect sounding melody.

“Trust me, It’s embarrassing to admit.” He says, and you let out a quick breath as he pulls out of you. He grabs a cloth out of a kitchen drawer and runs it under warm water in the sink before cleaning up the cum between your legs. He tucks himself back into his boxers before pulling his pants up, and you follow suit.

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.” You jest as you button your pants.

“Maybe.” Mike says with a smile, and when you look at him, you think you wouldn’t even need weed to get high. You’d just need this feeling.

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#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #smut #fnafmovie #fnaf

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loveindefinitely · 4 months

Text

— ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ THREE OF HEARTS | könig x ghost x reader

✩ PART ONE / ACE OF SPADES

// read on ao3. fic playlist. series masterlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You can still taste the smoke on your lips.

The flavour of tobacco against your tongue, the spiralling smoke brushing your cheek. A hand in your hair, another between your thighs. One strong chest pressed against your own, the other laid onto the sheets between your legs.

A name spoken against your ear, another whisper muffled by your thighs.

Torture, in its rawest of forms – malicious and cruel and perfect. An agonising taunt of what could be, if not for regulations, rules; decorum and practicality. Right and wrong.

It had been two years since you’d seen the men that starred in your darkest of fantasies. Or, more precisely, six-hundred and thirty-eight days since you’d tasted them, breathed in the strong scent of their cologne.

But you weren’t counting.

You wouldn’t dare.

…Still.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, you’d spent, longing and hoping and dreaming of another moment. A possibility to be embraced, once more, by them. Even just a minute of their time, to speak, to ask if they felt the same instant connection you had.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days of waiting for this very moment.

“Sergeant, I’m sure you’re at least aware of Colonel König and Lieutenant Ghost,” your Commander speaks, elbows resting on his desk, hands folded underneath his chin as he studies you.

Your mouth is barren of moisture, all of it draining straight to where your clasped hands grow clammy in your lap. Without a word, you nod. Your Commander doesn’t comment, but his eyes narrow, and he releases a short exhale.

The room feels so small, now, his office like your own personal prison cell. Walls a fading beige, the seat beneath you a cracking leather – the stench of old paperwork. It’s a challenge not to cough from the dust.

“And I know that you’re well aware of your upcoming mission. Tomorrow, correct?” He asks, flipping through the stapled stack of paper before him, tongue peaking out to lick over his thumb as he skims over the fineprint.

You nod once more, eyes nervously darting around the enclosed space. No windows? Seriously?

“You’re a smart woman,” he observes, with a small shrug of his shoulders, eyeing you curiously. “I think you know what I’m implying.”

The contracted mission, which had once been an infiltration, targeted approach, has turned into a long-term undercover one overnight. In fact, you hadn’t been informed of the drastic change until ten minutes ago.

Neither had you been informed of the two soldiers you’d be working with.

You didn’t know if you’d ever regretted something this deeply.

Ever.

“I don’t even know the details, let alone my cover,” you begin, fidgeting with the hem of your civvies tank, “Isn’t this CIA shit, anyways? Why are we –”

“You know damn well why we need you three on this, and not just any agent,” Your Commander raises an unimpressed brow, and you slump further into your chair. He’s right, of course, but it doesn’t mean that it makes you feel any better.

The layers within this mission were nearly impossible to decipher.

A foreign terrorist – one growing a steady following within political groups and extremists – was pulling the strings of one of the most exclusive and profitable trafficking rings in the world. And he was doing it right underneath the public’s noses.

What the cover was hadn’t been known – until this morning.

“Read it yourself,” your Commander breathes exasperatedly, and with that tone, you know it’s not going to be pretty.

Tossing the paper over to your side of the desk, it skids to a soft stop right at the edge.

Flitting your gaze to the front page, your stomach sinks.

There, in printed, full colour – is them. They look unbelievably imposing, with their uniforms, and their masked faces.

You knew what was hidden beneath that black fabric.

The images aren’t the only thing to catch your abrupt attention, however, your focus instantly snatching on the cover stories. The…

Oh. Fuck.

“Commander –”

He instantly raises a palm, and you bite your tongue, hesitantly reading the text from start to end. It doesn’t make the situation any better; somehow, it makes it worse – tenfold.

You speak before you can stop yourself.

“BDSM?”

If all the blood has drained from your face, you’d be lucky to die on the spot. Because, truly, you can’t think of a better option. A bullet to the head, maybe? Arsenic in the water sat next to the contract?

Yeah. Anything is better than whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be doing tomorrow.

And for the indefinite future.

“I know that it’s impractical,” he tries to amend, obviously seeing the pure distraught written all over your features, “But it’s our safest bet. There’s thousands – millions of lives on the line here. And I’m sure you’re not alone in your… hesitation, either.”

Chewing at your inner cheek, you nervously skim over the rest of the information, before skidding it back over to your Commander, running a hand down your face.

“I have to pretend,” you inhale, deep, “To be in a kinky throuple.”

With the men who you’d done ‘kinky throuple’ shit with, went unsaid.

The man across from you winces. But he doesn’t deny it.

“That’s…” He seems to search for words, but comes out empty. He clears his throat. “Yeah. That’s… That’s pretty much. The cover story.”

He sounds highly uncomfortable with the topic at hand, but with sweat beading at the nape of your neck, and your mind reeling, you can’t find it in yourself to have any empathy. At least he didn’t have to infiltrate a fucking sex club.

Flashes of bare skin, scarred jaws, calloused hands –

“When’s the briefing?”

The words fall from your lips in a breath, your subconscious need for information being set to default while the rest of your brain tries to play catch-up.

Looking down at the bulky, gluttonously gold watch adorning his wrist, your Commander grimaces, before looking back up to you with an apologetic frown. “It’s in five minutes. This morning’s been a rush, sorry, kid.”

Rising from your seat on unsteady legs, you accept your own copy of the papers with shaky hands. If your Commander notices the trembling, he doesn’t comment on it.

They feel heavier than any weight, the words in your hands – the words bearing down on your soul.

Attempting to make sense of it all is a fruitless effort, and trying to reason with it is just as impossible. How could you? When this undercover mission was likely going to be the most difficult one of your life? Was this the universe’s form of a taunt, a punishment?

Your Commander opens the door for you, the soft draft of the hallway allowing you to breathe.

The stifled, stale air of his office gives way, and your shoulders loosen slightly from the tight posture they were in. Maybe everything will be fine. You won’t be in a fake relationship with the men who you had a relationship with, however short-lived, to stop a world-class terrorist.

…Totally.

Following your Commander tightly behind him, your mind a hurricane of emotions and anxiety, you chew at the inside of your cheek as you rack your thoughts for any sense of direction.

You, inevitably, come up empty.

Boots hitting the linoleum floor swiftly, the sound echoing around the empty space, you release short, calming breaths. Realistically speaking, this wasn’t going to be the cause of your death – you were a professional. You were one of the most skilled coveted ops agents for-hire, and what was this but just another aspect of your job?

Maybe this was exactly what you’d been hoping for – a real, substantial opportunity.

Maybe they’ve both forgotten you.

Your breath hitches at that thought.

It takes root in your mind instantly. What’s making you believe that they care, in the slightest, for you? What makes you think that one night of lustful desires could hold a flame to a proper relationship?

What if you were just that – one night? Nothing more of importance, or worth, to them?

“C’mon, kid,” Your Commander claps a comforting hand onto your shoulder, near dragging you into the briefing room.

You’re just grateful that he takes your hesitation as an uneasiness about the cover story, and not the men you’ll have to execute it with. …Although, the cover story isn’t exactly a breeze, either, König and Ghost aside.

The air-conditioned meeting room feels like ice against your heated skin, the door closing behind both you and your Commander as he goes to take a seat at the head of the table, beside a woman of whom you haven’t seen before. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a short ponytail, a classic button-up adorning her torso as she flips through the files in front of her.

When she looks up, she greets your Commander with a short nod, before giving one to you, too.

Other than her, the room is empty – and checking the decade-old clock on the wall, it seems like there’s only a minute until the official starting time.

Choosing the safest bet, a chair to the left of the elongated, wooden table, you sit in the middle. It feels like the best choice – not too close to the Commanders or any Chiefs.

You aren’t new to the concept of briefings; in fact, you’d likely been involved in more than any of the Sergeants you knew.

Being an expert in the field of undercover and intelligence-based operations means that you attended more meetings than, say, an explosives expert. You have to know the smallest details; discuss them and pick them apart, add your own two cents.

Intelligence is something you pride yourself on – you break most stereotypes about the military, all in one go, and you aren’t ashamed of that. Book smart, progressive; a woman.

It never fails to make you smile internally, the second-glances from the withering old men that held authority within your ranks. While you deal with the drawbacks every second you work, there are some benefits, you suppose.

The cushioned meeting chair is comfortable where you’re seated, hands folded dutifully in your lap as you await everyone else’s arrival.

Their arrival.

Door creaking open, your heart skips a beat in your chest as you instantly dart your gaze up.

You most definitely do not deflate when you see one of your Lieutenants walk in, instead of a specific one from the Task Force. …Or a six-foot-ten Colonel.

The logistics of this mission must’ve been insane to sort out. While KorTac and SpecGru are formally enemies, and actively enemies, too, there are under-the-table deals and trades made between the two behind closed doors.

This must be a prime example of such a decision.

König and Ghost – from those few hours you’d spent with them – had been amicable. That was putting it lightly; they definitely shared a few secretive, heated looks, even a kiss and a few strokes, too.

Maybe the whole forbidden thing was even more intense, for them? Being so explicitly enemies?

You weren’t exactly sure – still aren’t.

None of it makes any sense, which is a debilitating feeling, for someone who needs to know everything at all times. As best as you can, anyways.

Taking the spot directly in front of you, your Lieutenant gives you a kind smile. You easily reciprocate, even with your anxiety heightened, your thighs squeezing together underneath the shadows of the table.

The overhead lights are a harsh, grating white, and you feel a pounding headache incoming.

Your Commander and the woman seem to be engaging in a quick, near-silent conversation at the head of the table. They swap some papers around, narrow their gazes, raise brows. They’re… hostile, but not unbearably so – amicable enough not to cause a fight.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The world doesn’t stop, time doesn’t freeze, but it’s a close thing with the way your heart stutters in your chest, your breath cutting off with your last inhale.

At the door, fist still raised, deep blue eyes and a sniper hood meet your startled gaze. The man’s eyes soften immediately when they catch onto yours, the greasepaint smeared around them doing nothing to hide the instant spark that lights within them.

He is, you distantly think, as breathtaking as you remembered him to be.

The top of his head is hidden behind the door frame, his height palpable even within the excessively tall roof of the building. His posture allows him to curl into himself, even with his fist still raised.

“We late?”

And –

Oh.

König’s unbelievably large frame had taken the spotlight – but that wasn’t to say that the other man was any dimmer in your eyes.

Ghost. True to his name, his voice is a rough drawl, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest as his eyes dart around the room, before landing on…

You.

He doesn’t flinch; his expression doesn’t change in the slightest, actually, not even a hint of recognition in his dusky brown eyes. Just cold indifference, this side of disgruntled.

As if you’ve been frozen in time, you struggle to think, let alone breathe – like your life has been suddenly set to manual. With a quick jerk of a movement, you let your eyes zone out onto the mahogany in front of you.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – just in time,” the woman speaks succinctly, folding one leg over the other as she finally looks away from your Commander to gesture the two in.

Oh, what you wouldn’t give for a moment to process. To figure out the battlefield that is your head, and decide on your next actions – your feelings, too, the emotions of it all.

“Good to see you two haven’t killed each other yet!” Your Commander laughs, jovial, and you want to bang your head onto the table.

“...We are professionals.”

That Austrian accent – the thick, headiness of it, the lilt, the gentle tone – it’s one as familiar as your own. One that’s played in your mind, a constant, the memory of it spoken against your heated skin both a blessing and a curse.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, it had been.

“At killing.”

You can hear the side-eye, the bored tone, the guttural raspiness reminiscent of his hometown. The sarcasm, too, a core part of the very man’s existence.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days.

Your Commander is the only person in the room who laughs, clasping his hands together before waving the two over to join at the table. Looking up, for a split second, you nearly deflate when his eyes catch onto yours. The glint in them says everything you need to know.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – let me introduce you to Sergeant Star,” your Commander gestures towards you, and really, would melting into the floor be so bad?

Ghost raises a single brow, and your Lieutenant runs with it.

“Funny story, that,” he starts, and you barely restrain yourself from burying your head in your hands, “First mission. She somehow figures out who was sending the false intel for a case, and dismantled the whole bloody plan, made a new one. She was spot on, too.”

His smile turns shiteating as he leans further back into his chair, folding his hands over his chest.

“When we got back onto base, Commander over there gave her a gold star for her troubles. Pretty good tradeoff, aye?”

“Leo,” you mutter under your breath, delivering your superior a vicious glare.

Your Lieutenant – Leo – was more of an annoying older brother than anything else. Since that mission, he’d taken you under his wing; protected you like his own, too. He was a dickhead, but a solid one that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Even when he pulls shit like this.

“That’s…” König folds into himself further, if that’s at all possible, as he looks to Leo. “Impressive. Very good.”

Ghost doesn’t say a word, instead, moving to sit in the chair next to your Lieutenant, and opposite you. König quickly follows his lead, sitting to your left with rough movements. A man of his size – to be graceful with anything was something of a miracle.

He’d been graceful when his hand had wrapped around your neck –

“Now that everyone’s here,” the woman cuts in, moving to stand and turn on the TV sat between her and your Commander, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The show is multiple images of the targets, some of the women that have been kidnapped, reports, and other important information. You catalogue it all, playing close attention to the names and circumstances of both the victims and the targets.

It’s going smoothly, until –

“The rules,” the woman whose name you’ve learnt is Laswell speaks, flicking to the next slide. Your stomach drops for a reason other than the two men sat at the table when you read its contents.

Rule One: Explicit consent must be given between pre-established partners, or any new partners if a scene is wished to be done.

Rule Two: Masks must be worn at all times, with safe alternatives if oral play is wish to be done.

Rule Three: A person’s inclination [Dominant, Verse, Submissive] must be displayed on a corresponding armband, which will be supplied at entry.

Rule Four: Access to the basement level may not be granted to anyone, unless a verification and acceptance process has been executed. No exclusions apply.

Rule Five: Submissives with a Dominant(s) must stay within eyesight at all times, unless a collar has been placed onto the Submissive marking ownership.

It feels as though someone’s scrambled the contents of your brain in an attempt to destroy your very essence – and your stomach feels as hollow as your heart as Laswell reads off the words on screen. She doesn’t falter once, unlike you, knuckles whitening against the tight fists forming in your lap.

König, nor Ghost, react outwardly. No hint of hesitance or uneasiness, just taking their professionalism in stride.

You feel like a fool.

“Ghost will be acting as the Dominant, König the Verse, and Star the Submissive,” Laswell states, matter-of-fact, as if your world didn’t start crumbling around you the moment you’d been called into your Commander’s office.

If you were at all in a state to laugh, you’d probably giggle at how suitable the roles are. They all aligned to That Night, and a distant part of you wonders if the three of you were just obvious with your tastes.

“We’ve rented an apartment four blocks away. When you start to inquire about the basement,” she flicks to the next slide once more, “They will follow you. Expect to have a shadow everywhere you go – and one that you don’t know is there, obvious or not.”

“You guys aren’t good people, as of tomorrow,” Your Commander chimes in, leaning forward on the table, looking between both König and Ghost. “You are interested in their side business, and Star,” he looks to you, “Is none the wiser. This only works if you follow through with that – and offer up her services as collateral.”

“You want us to pretend,” König shakes his head, looking dismayed, “To give the Sergeant to the ring?”

Silence.

And, then, “Yes.”

You were made aware, earlier, of course, that your role was going to be slightly different to that of the other two men. But you hadn’t actually expected something so… fucked.

“If this goes sideways –” Ghost speaks up, voice deep and raspy as his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, visible even with his mask, “ –We’re risking ‘er life.”

“I know what I signed up for,” you respond, finding your voice, however weak. “This is no different to a warzone. Just with less explosions, and more…” You struggle to find the words, “Mind games. Tactics are changing from bullets to rumours.”

He doesn’t try to debate it, just merely shrugs indifferently and slides his smooth gaze back over to the two at the front.

As if he hadn’t felt you cum around his cock; heard you moan his name while he left bites over your neck.

Bastard.

The meeting goes on much the same, with more information on the plan as a whole. It makes sense, to you, and you know that you’ll be able to get it done.

König and Ghost, however, that haunting spectre that was them, feel like a road block.

Ghost, from what you had gathered, was either ignoring your existence for some selfish reason, or had completely forgotten about That Night.

You simultaneously find it hard to believe that your time together was that forgettable, and that it was truly something special. It has, after all, been six-hundred and thirty-eight days. Maybe he was used to such intimacy, although you find it hard to believe, it is a possibility.

Then, there’s König – his eyes, the way he almost reeled back at the sight of you, told you enough.

He remembered. Clear as day.

But whether or not he cares at all, or wants to discuss your past at all, is a whole other story. Maybe he just wants to brush it under the rug, forget it ever happened, and move on.

As much as one could move on when pretending to be in a relationship, that is.

“You will head to your apartment by eighteen-hundred, tomorrow night, and get yourselves situated. The club opens at nineteen-hundred, so an hour or so after that is reasonable,” Laswell says, finishing off on the debrief.

Her eyes find all of you.

“There’s a lot riding on this. This isn’t like any mission any of you have executed before – but we have faith that you will execute this with precision and care.”

The words sit in your soul like a reminder; a way of steering you the right direction.

A few words are exchanged after that, some questions, some answers. Leo will be serving as your operator, in charge of communications and resources for the mission. At the back of your mind, you’re grateful for the distant support of your Lieutenant.

It’s when everything’s wrapped up, and you’re falling back as everyone files out of the room, that a presence behind you has you freezing up.

Ghost.

“If you’re not up for the mission, just say so instead of draggin’ us down,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear the grain of his low, impatient voice. “This is important, Sergeant, and if your head is elsewhere –”

“You don’t remember?” Your voice comes out tight, impatient, upset.

His shoulder checks yours as he passes.

“What’s there to remember?”

taglist. @thegreyjoyed @hayleybarnesx

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dannyboy-writes · 4 months

Text

Swear on it

You were finishing a workout when you heard the door to the gym open up, seeing Natasha come in and locking it.

“Hey Nat, I was just finishing off here.” You smiled, but quickly dropped the face as her own look seemed displeased.

“Something wrong?” you asked, holding a hand out for her.

She quickly took your wrist and spung you off your feet, dropping you on the hard floor. Still holding your arm behind your back, now pushing her knee a tad too deep in your back.

You groaned, “You know, I invited you earlier, now I’m leaving.” You tried to shuffle off her grip but she wasn’t playing around.

“Shut up, y/n.” She steadied her position on top of you, and looked around the room.

“You know I had this dream before, but it was slightly different.” You grinned, straining your neck to catch a look of her face.

“Are you being serious right now?” She did not seem amused.

“Okay, it was just like this,” you breathed.

“Who do you work for?”

“What?”

“Answer me, y/n.” She ordered.

“SHIELD, Nat, what the hell.” You were at a loss right now, “Who do you work for?”

“SHIELD.”

“See we’re on the same side, here. How about you let go of my arm, and we can hug it out.” You tried to move slightly under her grip, but she tightened it.

“Stop messing around,” she sighed. “Hydra‘s infiltrated SHIELD.”

“What?” You asked in disbelief as she nodded. “And why do you think I’m Hydra?”

She didn’t answer, just another heavy breath.

“Right. Look, I have no interest in going back to being a brain dead assassin.” You told her.

Just thinking about your days in the Winter Soldier Program gave chills down your spine, and nightmares for a lifetime.

She turned you around, now straddling you. “Swear on it.”

“What?” You gulped amidst the shock and the fact that Natasha was close to you. Very close.

“Swear on it on something that matters.”

Her face was stoic, but her eyes betrayed her. She couldn’t lose you. You couldn’t be with them.

You searched in your mind something meaningful enough. “Our relationship.”

“What relationship?”

“Whatever this is, what it could be. I swear it on my love for you.” Natasha’s eyes widened and she suddenly realised the position you two were in. “What do you swear it on?”

She was quiet for some time. “My past.”

“Great, now that we’ve both sworn on it, up you go,” you said, raising your hips so Natasha would get off you.

“What are we going to do now?” You asked her.

“You love me?”

The question pierced the room like a bullet. Natasha’s eyes lost in your face.

You looked at her, “Of course I love you. Why else would I be in this shithole?”

You started to smile as Natasha’s lips crashed into you. First shocking you, but soft enough so you settled in it comfortably.

“That was nice,” you said, breaking out of the kiss as Natasha smiled herself. “We should fuck.”

She cackled loudly, “Buy me a drink first, you shameless.”

“Will do. Hell, I’ll buy you two.” You said, laughing at yourself.

She hit your arm, still smiling at you.

“First, we need to sort this infiltration thing.” She reminded you.

“Right, drinks later.” You smiled.

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel imagine #natasha x reader

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longing-for-the-past-times · 8 months

Text

finding out it's your birthday

task force 141 x reader

synopsis: It's your birthday, but you don't know how to tell your teammates about it

notes: don't really know how to properly describe this, but it's based on this request and my personal experience of having to spend my birthday at work (no, I did not bring them baked goods, just sweets from the shop). Really short, not proofread, no plot.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated🙈

warnings: none

find it on ao3 masterlist

"and now I am dreaming and you're singing at my birthday// and I've never seen you smile so big" - moon song

There were a lot of potential ways you could have spent your birthday, but running through the narrow hallways of the base with a heavy backpack slung over a shoulder definitely hadn't been one of them

You almost crashed into other three operators, including König from KorTac who had the common sense to place his heavy hands on your shoulders in an attempt to steady you before you ran him over in your rush to get to the meeting room

Laswell had advanced the hour the post-mission debriefing was supposed to take place and it ended up clashing with your own schedule, the one day you decided to organise your actions into one and now you were late by almost 5 minutes. Which wouldn't seem like much to some, but being a member of Task Force 141 meant you needed to uphold a certain standard.

But it was your birthday and even if you were 99% sure no one was actually aware of it, you'd spent the morning baking oat cookies and muffins, and carefully packing them into casseroles. You also tried to bring them to the destination with minimal damage, but now you could only hope there was something edible left of the baked goods.

"I'm sorry I'm late!", you meekly excused yourself, taking a seat between Ghost and Soap and blushing slightly when feeling Price's judging glare.

"Anyway, as I was saying when you tried to infiltrate through this crack in the perimeter…"

Slightly tapping your left foot against the floor, you couldn't focus on Laswell's words. What if they didn't like the cookies - you were never able to make them both soft and chewy - or what if the muffins stuck to the muffin liners? Did you put too many chocolate chips in them?

"Y/N? What's your take on this?"

You looked at Price with an alarmed expression, panic bubbling up in your chest upon seeing the questioning looks of the others. You didn't catch the last part of the question - were they asking about your birthday? Laswell must have known, she was the one responsible for all the intelligence after all.

So you did what seemed the most logical thing to do. You opened the backpack and placed the plastic casseroles on the table, unaware that everyone else in the room was literally frozen in place.

"So yeah, it's my birthday today and I made some cookies and muffins and thought it would be nice to share them with you and… that's not what you were talking about, is it?"

Your words trailed as you realised that the timing wasn't as ideal as you planned. At least, now you were sure they hadn't known: Price's eyes were widened comically, and Gaz was repeatedly blinking at you in confusion and disbelief. Soap let out a thunderous laugh as he instantly pulled you into a bear hug and Ghost… you couldn't tell his expression under the mask, but the blank look in his eyes meant he was probably still wrapping his head around it

"How about we forget any of this happened and I do it again after the debrief is over?" A blush spread on your cheeks as you tried to put the casseroles back into the backpack, but you were stopped by Gaz's firm grip.

"Are you kidding? It's your birthday, we should celebrate - go out for drinks and do karaoke and-"

Price and Kate shared a knowing look between themselves and shook their heads in defeat. Before being able to ask them what was the matter, Kate closed the laptop and began to stuff the files back into the manilla folders

"Happy birthday, Y/N! We will resume this tomorrow. And now tell me, what kind of oats did you use for the cookies, plain or instant? My wife's been trying to make them this chewy, but she never seems to get the recipe right."

It was your turn to open your mouth in disbelief when you saw Price joining Kate at the table, securing a casserole of oat cookies just for themselves

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?", he asked in a gentle tone, fishing breadcrumbs from his moustache.

"I… It's not that important, I mean…"

You couldn't help but flinch when someone placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly, as if in reassurance. You turned your look to Ghost, who was holding a pink muffin in his gloved hand. His mask was lifted up to his nose, revealing his tight-lipped smile:

"Don't ever say that again, ok? That is all the more reason to celebrate it. You were the one who got us out safe from the bunker after all…"

And you could swear you saw his lips twitching into a smile, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes as he bit into the cupcake

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billwidoll · 12 days

Text

Stalker (part one)

Rafe never believed in love at first sight, he was always the biggest hater of love. But when he saw you, strolling through the streets of New York,He just fell in love with you. He saw the way you walked, the way you smiled, he thought you were perfect. And the day Rafe saw you, he was at a very important business dinner.

Your face was stuck in his head for hours, and he had to find out where you lived, what your name was, where you worked. Rafe was a millionaire, so he used his money to get hackers to find you.

It was very difficult to find a person, whose name no one knows, so Rafe dropped this hacking plan, so he decided to do it himself. Rafe went to the same place and was there waiting for you exactly The same hours you spent when he saw you for the first time. And this time he saw you again, passing by. When Rafe saw you, he had a huge smile and was proud of what he had achieved.

Rafe waited for you to pass, but he followed you surreptitiously, and this chase stopped at a finished building in New York, it was probably the house where his muse lived. Rafe had the audacity to enter the building, and take the same elevator you were in.

When he entered the elevator he could smell your sweet and addictive scent, you had such good energy. Honestly, Rafe was crazy about you, capable of doing anything for you.

"New resident?" You ask with a gentle smile on your lips.

Rafe couldn't be fascinated by your voice, you were truly perfect. And he was still very kind and pleasant.

"I...I...I'm visiting a friend" Rafe says a little off guard, because he's talking to you.

You nod, Rafe was going to start a conversation, but the elevator arrived at your apartment floor, and you left, before Rafe could talk to you. Rafe left on impulse on the same floor as your apartment, he couldn't believe he was doing all this because of you. What was it about you that made him like that

Rafe followed you more surreptitiously, as it would be very obvious if you saw him there near your apartment, but you didn't notice and that made Rafe relieved. He watched you enter your apartment, and saw that your apartment number was 234. And that number was going to be his lucky number, because to Rafe, you were his angel, and everything that represented you.

Rafe knew where you lived, and that was a good thing. For him.

2 months later

_____________________

2 memes passed and Rafe was completely involved in your life, he already knew EVERYTHING about you, if you doubt it, he knows more about your life than you do. Rafe quit his job, he didn't have to Working, he was already rich and stable, he stopped going out with friends and dating, Rafe's life only depended on you, even though you had no idea who he was.

Rafe followed you everywhere, and you didn't notice, and you rarely greeted each other "casually", for you it was normal, but for Rafe it was a dream come true. Rafe had already made several plans to infiltrate your life, and the next plan was to live in the same building you lived in. Rafe bribed the apartment's resident to leave and give the apartment to Rafe. And so he did, he was living next door to you now, Rafe was happy. And he couldn't wait, to break into your house at 00:00.

You were leaving to go to work and came across a man placing casual electronics inside your old neighbor's apartment.

"New resident?" You ask the same question you asked Rafe, but you didn't realize it was the same person.

"and...I am! My name is Drew Starkey" Rafe says, changing his name, to stop hiding it better.

You thought you had seen him, but you didn't remember. Rafe was bracing for this reaction. So he cut his hair and worked out more, getting stronger. And he was also trying to change The cold personality, he was trying to be more Nice. Because he was sure you didn't like bad boys, so he was pretending to be the good guy.

"You are very welcome, my name is Sn" you say with a huge smile on your face and raising your hand to greet him.

Rafe's heart almost jumped from skin to mouth, he was so looking forward to this.

"Thank you very much for the greetings, and your name is beautiful"

Rafe says, praising you, that's all he wanted to say to you, he just wanted to praise you. Your cheeks turn red, and since Rafe studied you for 2 months, he knew you were shy.

"thank you Drew" you say with a shy smile and Rafe wishes that smile would stay on your face forever "I'd love to keep talking to you, but I have to go to work"

You say, ending the conversation and Rafe feels sad, but he hides it.

"well...I'll see you later?" Rafe says wanting to make sure you guys would talk later.

"yes! Yes! I would love to" you say enthusiastically and Rafe notices this and he was sure you were liking him.

"that's good...I'll see you later then, right?" He says asking for confirmation.

"yes!"

_____________________

When you left for work, Rafe immediately went to try to break into your house. He used every method to unlock his door, and for the fifth time, he succeeded. And he smiled Huge when he achieved this.

He entered the apartment, and saw that it was well organized and clean, he saw several art paintings, and also several photos of himself pasted on the wall, without thinking twice, he picked up some and put them away In the pocket. He goes to his room, and smells a sweet perfume, he wanted to stay there for hours. He sits on his bed and runs his hand over your bed, he smells the sheets and it was sweet and Soft.

He goes to his drawer and looks through various things, until he finds the panties drawer, and their eyes light up. He takes several of her panties and puts them in his pocket. He smells your panties, and lies down on your bed.

Rafe stayed there the whole afternoon, he was discovering a lot more about you. Rafe looks at the clock and realizes that there are 2 minutes left until you get home from work, and he immediately puts everything in place. And I ran away from there.

Rafe goes to take a shower and make his favorite dinner, as he had told you to stop by his house earlier, and Rafe locks the door to the second bedroom of his apartment, as that was the place That were all states about you.

Rafe hears the doorbell and it was clearly you at the door, Rafe was smelling good and showered. He takes a deep breath and opens the door

"hello Sn!" He says it as if he were an angel. And you smile with that look in his eyes.

"hello Drew..." She says looking down, Rafe was very intimate with her. "I made this strawberry pie for you" you say with a smile showing the pie.

Rafe couldn't pay attention to the pie, he could only look at you, you looked beautiful. You were so delicate and it messed with Rafe's catheter.

"Can you come in please" Rafe says giving you space to enter, and you do, when you pass Rafe he smells your perfume.

"your apartment is so... organized" you say, looking around.

Rafe smiled knowing you were organized too.

"what do you expect from a 29 year old man?"

Rafe speaks referring to himself, and he wasn't 29 either, he was 30. But he was avoiding everything about his past life.

"You're 29 years old? Oh my God" you say with your mouth open and Rafe sees that the conversation is going well.

"Do I look that old to be under 30?" Rafe jokes, and you laugh.

"no, that's not what I meant, but the other way around, you understand? You look like you're 19 or 20" you say, being more Clara now and Rafe prepares another joke.

"Now you're calling me baby?" Rafe speaks again jokingly and you laugh again, both of you were loving the conversation.

"that's enough, you're impossible!" You say jokingly too and sitting on his couch, still laughing.

Rafe was also laughing, but he couldn't let the conversation die.

"and you? How many do you have?" Rafe asks, knowing exactly how old you are.

"I'm 21, surprising?" She says jokingly and Rafe laughs, shaking his head.

"No, you're too beautiful to be 84 years old"

Rafe says and you laugh at his jokes. Rafe wasn't like that, but he knew you liked people like that, so he was trying to be nicer.

"Shall we eat? I swear I did the best I could" Rafe says, creating another topic to continue the conversation.

"I promise I'll be honest" she says playfully. And Rafe was loving her every split second.

Rafe couldn't stop looking at your eyes, they were beautiful and bright, Rafe needed, needed you in his life. Sooner or later.

Rafe takes the food out of the oven, and he looks great. Rafe knew how to cook very well, when he was little, his father took him to cooking classes, ordered by Rafe's mother.

“Wow, it looks delicious”

you say looking at the frying pan that was in Rafe’s hand. You didn't expect to meet a man over 20, who knew how to cook, was kind, and had a home Organized. He was practically a Roman prince straight out of books.

"well, I hope it's pleasant, I don't want to embarrass myself around such a beautiful girl"

Rafe says praising you with a beautiful smile on His face, and your heart can't help but flutter.

"Let's eat?" Rafe says, placing the food on the table and pulling out the chair for you to sit.

He serves you the food, and you are impressed by the ring that was in Rafe's hands. The ring was large and luxurious, and it also appeared to be pure gold.

"Ah, I'm sorry, but that ring...it's so ostentatious" You ask, a little afraid, not knowing the financial situation of your new neighbor.

When Rafe hears that, his head immediately clicks, he hadn't realized that something so valuable was on his finger.

"Ah... that's... it's my family's ring, all parents give this ring to their son when he becomes an adult"

Rafe makes up this story that never happened, but the story made sense in his head.

,"oh... of course, sorry to ask, and it's so similar to those rings that the rich people in the city wear"

You explain, giving Rafe a nice smile, and Rafe was afraid that you would somehow find out that it didn't make sense for a man to have a gold ring, and live in a poor apartment in the city.

"What do you work with?" Rafe asks, trying to quickly get away from the subject of the ring, and he already knew where you worked.

"I work as a secretary, but in my spare time I make money as an artist"

you say, not very happy with the life you led, you didn't want that future, and Rafe knew that, because he knew you Better than anyone.

"I think artists are incredible, after I met Leonardo da Vinci, I simply fell in love with art"

Rafe talks while eating a piece of chicken, he understands a lot about history, references, science. Rafe was a great student. He was intelligent, and he was a 30-year-old millionaire, who had no children, he It was the guy.

"Do you know Leonardo da Vinci's paintings?" You say with your mouth open, your new neighbor was a box of surprises.

"Yes! My favorites are the last supper and Mona Lisa" Rafe says, captivating you more.

The two of you stayed talking for hours and hours. Rafe simply taught a lesson about the world. She loved the conversation. She unfortunately told you to go home, and Rafe didn't want you to go.

"I loved this dinner....it was just perfect Drew" you say, taking your coat and giving a slight smile.

That was music to Rafe's ears.

"your company was perfect" Rafe once again praised you, and you accepted it well this time, giving him a smile.

You went up to him to greet him before you left, and you went to give Rafe a kiss on the cheeks, but he turned away when you approached. And this ends up making you two kiss.

To be continued

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cherubify · 2 months

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notes: fluff, comfort, short drabble, reader is a stand in for ashley, inspired by the bed i found in one of the rooms in early stages of castle exploration, mentions of blood, plagas-infected reader

"hey, there's a bed here." leon turns to the sound of your voice and his eyes fall on the object of your attention. you peek from the doorway, eyes hopeful. "maybe we can take a short break."

"maybe," he says as he looks down at the bodies piled on the floor. he stashes his knife into its holder and points at a corner. "wait here while i get rid of them."

"i can help!" you offer but he shows you a gloved palm to stop you. your face falls, but you know better than to argue. he rather work alone. so you obediently stand in a corner as instructed, back facing a long line of halberds and blades.

he piles the bodies along the corridor, a warning and an open sign that both of you have successfully infiltrated the castle. streaks of blood run across the carpeted floor and you wrinkle your nose. why is their blood a brown-ish hue? and it kinda smells. even your blood during that time of the month isn't that stinky.

when leon finishes, he checks the corridor once more then shuts the door. he pushes a cupboard to brace against it, locking both of you inside it. better safe than sorry– who knew how many of los illuminados lurked in the shadows?

you stare at him expectantly and he nods. a smile spreads across your face as you fling yourself onto the bed, giggling while the mattress bounces on old springs. clutching the sheets, you bury your cace in them and sigh. it has been a while since you slept on a nice bed. ever since the day you were kidnapped, you've only know cold and hard floors. you nuzzle the sheets and sniff them. a funny stale scent, but not weird enough to care.

leon sits on the floor, back resting against the bed frame. his back faces you and you stare at his blonde hair, at the back of his head. so far you've been going along with everything the blonde does. he claims to be working for your father, but what if it's a lie?

you frown at that. but he has always put you out of harms way, sheltering you with his body even. the proof lay in the cuts littering his arms and the multitude of tears across his shirt. running in caves and being chased by blade wielding mobs, he made sure to hold your hand while leading you to safety.

you rub your eyes. how could you doubt him– he's done everything so far for you. your chest squeezes and you cough. blood splatters onto your hand, and you look at him, at his slumped shoulders before wiping it away behind you on the sheets. the last thing you should do is worry him further.

"what's wrong?" he asks as he peers past his shoulder. parts of his gun sits on his lap, a box of ammunition on the floor. "you feeling okay?"

"yeah," you swipe your hand against your blouse and smile weakly. "just tired. i haven't slept in a while."

the blonde assembles his gun with a number of clicks before slipping it back into its holster. he hugs a knee to his chest and he leans back. "try to get some shut eye. i can keep watch."

"thanks," you mumble into the sheets. "y'know, this feels like a bad dream. i want it to be over soon."

"it will be. it's just a bad dream," he mimics your words. though he doesn't sound convinced.

"a bad dream," you whisper back. you reach out your hand. "then, can you hold my hand? maybe it'll help me wake up from this nightmare."

the blonde agent holds a moment of silence. you can't see his face, but you guess his fluffy brows are scrunched up in thought. always contemplating, so serious and brooding. you almost withdraw your hand when he turns so that his body faces you completely. he sits, cross legged, and extends his hand to you.

"if it helps you," he says. you nod and he places his palm on top of yours. wordlessly, you interlock your fingers with his and you give him a tentative squeeze.

he squeezes back once, and although he doesn't smile outwardly, you can see it in his eyes. warmth floods your body, and while your chest tingles with mild discomfort, you manage a relieved smile.

"it's gonna be okay. we're gonna be okay," you hear him say. you want to thank him but sleep carries you away from this realm, to a quieter place of no suffering.

all content written by @puppyina ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open for any past written characters.

#resident evil #resident evil x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy blurb #leon kennedy drabble #cw: blood

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addisonnie · 1 year

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hinge and uhaul 2

summary: your second date with ellie!

warnings: cursing, making out, fingering…not proofread soz

an: WAAAAH i wrote smut wtf….. I need to shower now. Don’t be mean if it’s bad but definitely tell me how I can make it better this was my first time writing it im sorry if it’s bad pls be nice to me😭

part 1

————

Ellie Williams is definitely a witch.

She must’ve slipped a love potion into your martini or crafted a voodoo doll of you because there is absolutely no reason as to why Ellie should be on your mind as much as she is. The short peck you shared with her in the back corner of a dingy bar is burned into your memory, you don’t have to put in any effort to remember how she tasted. How she felt. Hell, even how she smelled—and she smells wonderful, by the way.

Okay, so she might’ve only dropped you off outside your dorm building twenty minutes ago. It’s perfectly reasonable to still be thinking about the kiss, right?

After she pressed that short kiss to your awaiting mouth she looked at her watch and sighed, “listen, it’s getting pretty late. Let me take you home?”

You nodded and let her drag you in circles around the bar to bid goodbyes to her friends, one hand tangled with her fingers, the other circles around her bicep. And then, she led you through the parking lot toward her borderline totaled car. Is that thing even street legal?

She opened the passenger door for you and drove you home with a firm hand on your knee, thumb doodling patterns into your skin.

And then, you were home.

It’s been twenty-five minutes since Ellie dropped you off after the first date and the only thing you think that could possibly purge her from your mind is sleeping. Unless she decides to infiltrate your dreams, too.

————

A couple light knocks on your door quickly jolt you awake. You drag your palms across your eyes and run a hand through your hair before sliding out of bed. Shit—no pants. Dina’s bed is empty and you’re sure she won’t mind if you use her throw blanket as a makeshift robe, draping it over your shoulders and hugging it across your body.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You hobble over to the door and pull it open without bothering to check through the peephole. Aw, fuck.

Ellie stands in the doorway, well, she leans in the doorway. Her shoulder is pressed up against the doorframe and her hands are slung in the pockets of her corduroy Carhartt jacket.

“Oh, shit. Did I wake you up? Not—not that you look like you just woke up. You look great, of course.” She’s much more sheepish than she was a few moments ago, it’s cute.

“You definitely woke me up. But that’s okay! What’s up?” You open the door wider and take a step backward, silently instructing her to come inside.

Ellie follows you further into the room after shutting the door behind her. She takes a moment to look around your room before leaning against the side of your bed, facing you.

“Honestly? I just wanted to see you again. I thought you’d be awake at—“ she checks her watch, “five in the afternoon. But I was clearly wrong.”

The two of you giggle, a dramaticized gasp leaving Ellie’s lips when you playfully shove her shoulder, “naps are a thing, yanno.”

She stops laughing after a moment and smiles, “are you busy right now?”

“I am now.” She smirks at your response and tugs on the blanket around you, “put some pants on and let’s get going then.”

Your eyes widen, face flushing, “how did you—“ her chin juts outward and she’s looking down at your legs. A large hole in Dina’s blanket exposes your upper thigh and hip, the pink lace of your underwear sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Fuck me. Good thing it was you at the door, I guess.” Ellie shakes her head and laughs, “turning around now. Wear something comfy. And warm.”

While she faces the other direction you quickly survey her outfit. Black converse, gray sweatpants, a fitted black top, and her jacket. Okay, comfy.

You drop the blanket wrapped around you and slip on whatever pants are closest to you, tugging on a baggy cardigan, “okay, no longer indecent.”

Ellie chuckles and turns around, “alright, pretty baby. Grab a blanket and a pillow, not Dina’s shitty, ripped one.”

Ellie must’ve been googling ‘what names can I call someone to make them horny.’ Pretty baby. Pretty. Baby? You could shit your pants and vomit. Fuck—you’re sweating. Grab the pillow to distract yourself.

“‘Kay. Got it.” Ellie smirks and stretches her hand toward you, “let’s get going then, hm?”

—————

This is definitely not Ellie’s car, that much you know. Her piece of shit Honda was practically stuck together with glue and duct tape. This truck was nice, really nice actually. Is she a criminal, then? Grand-theft auto? Being so goddamn sexy?

“It’s my dad’s. The truck. I bribed him with a 24-pack and a pre-roll so he’d let me borrow it. Or so he’d get really drunk and not realize I hijacked him. Whichever, really.”

You laugh and turn to face her, “ah, so I was right. Grand-theft auto.”

Ellie scoffs and squeezes your thigh as a warning, “it’s hardly a crime. That grouchy old fuck owes me, like, way more than one night of borrowed truck-time.”

You stare at her for a moment, waiting for her to drop the angry act and crack a smile. Her face pinches up under your stare and she turns to the side to quickly smile before turning back to you, regaining her composure.

“You totally just laughed.”

She rolls her eyes, “I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. You laughed. I saw it.”

Her hand swats at your thigh, “…how do you feel about corn dogs?”

You splutter out a laugh and cough, patting your own chest to try and calm down.

“Corn dogs. Do you like them?” Ellie enunciates each word with a squeeze on your knee, “yeah—yeah I like them. What kind of sicko doesn’t like corn dogs?”

She wordlessly turns down onto a dimly-lit dirt road, the car shaking and groaning as it overpasses multiple potholes. The road goes on for a beat before opening up into a massive field, two large white screens are placed several yards apart in the grass and cars littered the lawn before the screens. No way she’s taken you to a drive-in! A shitty little one-story building sits nestled by the tree line, it’s practically folding in on itself, and the old yellow paint can hardly even be called yellow anymore because of the filth covering it. It manages to look homey, though.

“I hope you like movies. I wasn’t really sure what you like…so I just got tickets for that new scary one. We can sneak to the other side if—“

You cut her off and wrap your fingers around her hand on your thigh, “it’s perfect. Really.”

She blushes and tucks her chin into her shoulder, “I’m glad.”

—————

Ellie parks mostly in the back, only a couple cars parked further behind you.

“Here—take my card and grab us some snacks while I set up the truck bed.”

You blink at her and take a quick glance to her outstretched hand, “Ellie, be so for real right now. You’re not paying for gas, tickets, and food.”

She immediately rolls her eyes and moves to jut her hip out, placing both of her hands on her hips, “I’m not doing this with you right now. Take the card.”

Before sparing her a second glance you take off in the direction of the yellow building, gripping your own debit card between your fingers. Ellie practically squeaks out of shock as she watches you bolt away from her, “hey—what the fuck!”

She’s immediately running after you like a madman, yelling your name and laughing when she watches you stumble over your untied shoelaces. Her long legs quickly lead her straight to you, and she has to skid to a stop to be sure she doesn’t plow straight into your back.

You’re panting while trying to speak with the man behind the counter to give him your order and Ellie quickly wraps her arm around your middle,

“Hey. Two corn dogs, one large blue raspberry slushie—two straws. And…one funnel cake!” She lightly shoves you aside and slams her debit card onto the counter, “nice try, sweetheart.” She winks.

Little. Fucking. Shit.

“Not fair. You’ve got more leg than I do.”

“Hush. Help me carry this back to the truck.” She passes off one corn dog and the large slushie, smiling when you take a large gulp, “good?”

You smile at her, “delicious.”

—————

Ellie is halfway sitting up, her back is resting against the pillows in the bed of the truck, both of her legs spread and outstretched. Your head is resting on her shoulder and the leg closest to Ellie is resting over her lap, the other bent up to your chest. A comforter rests over your laps, underneath, Ellie has one arm wrapped around your waist, the other is draped across the leg you have thrown onto her lap.

You can clearly tell she’s not watching the movie anymore; Ellie is not as discreet as she thinks she is. Her entire face is turned and facing downward to look at you, it takes everything in you to not turn and lock eyes with her. She can tell, too. She knows you’re actively trying to not look at her, and she proves that point further when she drags her fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. Her fingers pause for a moment, gauging your response. When she notices you’re not moving to yank her hand away, she continues further.

Long fingers sneak under your gray sweats and walk to rest on top of your clothed mound. You suck in a breath and bend the leg laying in Ellie’s lap, spreading your legs further. Her (fucking massive) hand snakes down to cup your pussy and you squeak, shuffling your back further into her chest. A chuckle rumbles in her chest and she nudges her nose into the crown of your head, “look at me.”

You gulp and continue to face straight. Bad move. Ellie doesn’t like that response, she begins moving her hand out of your pants before you jerk to grab her tattooed wrist.

In a low tone, she says, “I told you to look at me, pretty girl.”

A flood of wetness immediately spills into your panties and you whine, shoving her wrist back into your pants. When she obliges, you turn your head upward and to the side, looking right at her. Ellie doesn’t speak to you, she immediately turns her head down, pressing her lips into yours. She’s kissing you like a bitch in heat, it’s messy, wet, and downright filthy. Her tongue slides along your bottom lip over and over, practically begging that you open your mouth. When you deny her that sweet salvation, her teeth graze over your lip until they sink into the cherry flesh, biting harshly and tugging. You whine into her mouth and she sucks it in immediately, already feeling drunk off your sounds. Determined to drag another whimper from you, her fingers drag over your underwear-covered pussy and press harshly onto your clit.

Your lips detach from Ellie’s when you let out a moan, Ellie gives you a minute before she whispers, “let me touch you. Can I?”

You don’t even nod before leaning forward to kiss her again for a moment before she pulls away, leaving your lips to chase after hers.

“Say it. Let me hear you say it, pretty.” She nips at your cheek.

“Please.”

Ellie tuts, “not enough, peanut.”

You whine and shuffle under the blankets, your hand shoves down into your sweatpants, fingers pulling your pink panties to the side. Ellie’s hand is tugged back toward your core and your fingers and immediately push her fingers to drag over your sticky folds.

“Please fucking touch me.”

Her mouth is back on yours immediately while she moves to circle her fingers around your tiny hole. You cry into her mouth and reach across your body to grip her head in your hand. Ellie’s middle finger dips into your core before spreading your wetness up and down your core. Her ring finger joins the other and immediately slides to be knuckle-deep in your pussy. For a moment, she doesn’t move her fingers, she lets them rest inside, warm and wet. Your teeth nip at her bottom lip while you hit your hips forward, whimpering into her mouth at the feeling.

She smiles messily into the kiss and moves her fingers out before slowly sliding them back in. Her fingers drag tauntingly slow against your walls, the stretch of her thick, long fingers has you careening at her every movement—but it isn’t enough.

You whimper into her mouth and wriggle in her grasp, moving your hand to tug at her wrist, she briefly pulls her lips from yours to laugh at your antics.

“Okay, baby. I got you.” And then she’s off. Her fingers slip in and out of your pussy at a pace you could surely never set yourself. They’re fast and slick, hastily rubbing in all the best places. She scissors her fingers inside of you while pistoning in and out and you pull away from her mouth again to turn your head and bury it into your shoulder.

Ellie presses a wet kiss to the crown of your head while her other hand snakes across your waist to circle at your little clit. Her pointer and middle finger tightly swirl over your clit while her other hand was busy sneaking in a third finger. The stretch makes you gasp and grip at her wrist, not sure if you could take it or not. Another light laugh leaves her lips while she shakes your hand off, “you got it.”

She fucks her fingers into you at a reckless speed, her other fingers rub and pinch at your clit and Ellie thinks you might combust if you clench on her fingers any harder. Your juices are leaking into her palm and spreading all down the globes of your ass, and the wet sounds coming from your dripping cunt are surely loud enough for the families all around you to hear. She can feel your hole fluttering around her fingers and she quickly fucks harder into you, determined to have you gush all over her fingers. With one last pinch to your clit, your orgasm crashes over you.

“That’s my fucking girl.”

Your body convulses for a moment while Ellie’s fingers still piston in and out of your cunt, chasing you through your high.

She presses a kiss to your head as her fingers come to a halt, “good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Your cum is glistening on her fingers while she brings her hand up to her mouth, sucking two fingers into her mouth. Her eyes bore into yours while she suggestively licks on her fingers, maintaining eye contact as she holds out her third finger for you to wrap your lips around.

You comply, sucking your sweet taste off of her finger and moaning when it hits your tastebuds. Ellie watches you with blown pupils and chokes out a whimper when you nibble on the pad of her finger.

You pull off with a pop, “this was a really good second date.”

Hell fucking yeah it was.

#IM SORRY #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams smut

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mykneeshurt · 4 months

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Trouble

Soap x AFAB!reader

Warnings - 18+, minors DNI, smut

A/N - my brain doesn’t wanna write atm so here’s a drabble. Enjoy!

———

Soap knew he was in trouble the minute he saw you. On loan from another specialist team to help with their next mission. Excellent infiltration skills, a quick learner, disciplined and loyal. He tried to stay focused in the meeting but to no avail.

He knew he was in trouble when the sunlight bounced off your skin, illuminating the droplets of sweat which trickled down your neck.

Fuck, your neck.

He watched when you drank, how your throat bobbed, how you gulped the freezing cold water. Never seeming to quench your thirst. He wanted to feel you fight for air against his palms, to hear your pretty little voice beg, plead for him not to stop. To go deeper. Harder.

He wanted to watch as you bit your plump lips, flashing your teeth as you smiled up at him. Rushed, stolen breaths, short and shallow. Pulse throbbing against him as you urge him to squeeze tighter. Pupils blown. Chest tight. Heart racing.

God, did he need you.

How your eyes would glimmer beneath him, void of any other emotion besides desire. How they would silently urge him to push you, destroy your walls, bend you, break you. How they would flutter and screw shut as he hovered his lips above yours, stealing your breath with each kiss.

How you played with your pen, fingers curling over the plastic, tendons dancing beneath your skin. How your nails danced over your skin, leaving little trails of raw skin in their wake. Desperately wanting to feel the sting of your nails along his back as they left a path of destruction in their wake. Scraping, pulling, grazing his skin making him hiss.

His eyes caught a glimpse of your thighs from under the table, muscular, thick. He chewed the inside of his cheek, wanting to dig his fingertips into your flesh. Bruising you. Marking you. Making you his. Wanting to push them open with his own, baring you to him. Imagining sinking his teeth into the most sensitive parts of you. Sucking. Nipping. Licking.

‘Hi Johnny!’ Your voice sliced through his day dream, forcing him to crash back to earth with an almighty thud. His eyes met yours as he offered a shy smirk.

Oh.

He knew he was in trouble.

————

@brewed-pangolin @deadbranch

#call of duty #soap modern warfare #soap call of duty #soap x you #soap x reader #john mactavish smut #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #john mctavish smut #john mctavish x reader #cod mw22 #john soap mactavish #modern warefare 2

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kuuverse · 3 months

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REGARDING THE VOID SITUATION. PLEASE READ.

If someone is asking for your full name and age and an inappropriate video for you and claim in the same breath they are simply a hormonal teenager... they are lying. I am only simply postulating that they are possibly a grown man taking advantage of the people in this community via attempts at spiritual blackmailing and other means. This entire person's page is a massive lie and I'm shocked at how many people have believed them. I don't want to be too dire and accuse someone of a crime(Which, they already are committing a crime. They're blackmailing and coercing people into sending them these videos. They're literally a criminal.) as serious as certain crimes with the initials HT, but you don't know where these videos are going, and with how corrupt the industries such as a popular streaming site for inappropriate videos, it is not a far fetched possibility they are selling them to them.

Many of their posts contradict each other, their username feels like a mockery of what one would think a teenager would have as a username. Which again, only simply an assumption that they are not who they claim- which whatever they turn out to be, is pretty obvious.

If you want to enter the void, do it yourself. You don't need the void state to live your dream life. But for the love of god, don't pay people to enter this state for you, don't do crazy things like this.

Anyways, report that blog. It doesn't matter if they really are simply a hormonal teenager, they're still committing crimes.

If you've already fallen victim to this person, I only simply pray that nothing bad comes out of this. I don't mean to fear monger with my assumptions... but it is very suspicious at the information they ask for aside from the video itself which is already...

The blog: https://www.tumblr.com/jungkookhottestcvmsvcker

And if they happen to come across this? A big, massive fuck you. What is wrong with you to infiltrate this community and take advantage of it's members? Whoever you are, you are disgusting and I hope you get what's coming for you.

That is it, stay safe everyone, stop over consuming content and relying on other people. All you need is yourself.

#law of assumption #loa #loa tumblr #loassumption #neville goddard #law of manifestation #living in the end #manifestation #loa blog #success story #void state #void success #the void state #loablr

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teenidlegirl · 2 months

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꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ┆ 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 fem!civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ that rainy night still infiltrates your mind. as you’re about to leave for the day, spider-man stops by your place with a gift. he begs you to allow him to pay you back for helping him. you offer an idea: dog-sit daisy.

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ pure fluff, goofiness, swearing, pet names, spanish terms, slightly suggestive, mild wet dreams (sorta?), softie!miguel, wholesome (my favorite chapter)

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

last night has been infiltrating your mind. it was even in your dreams, repeating that exact same scenario. although, it had various interesting endings. instead of miguel leaving and jessica calling him, you two would be making out on the couch after all of that staring contest. lips collided and hands roaming each other’s bodies, soft moans and groans mingling in the air. his big hands roaming and groping your curves while his mouth devours yours. one thing leads to another, you ending up laid back on the couch with him above you as the steamy makeout session continues on. his lips would leave yours, finding a new place on your neck. you’d have one hand digging into his chocolate brown locks as soft sighs escapes your lips at the sensation on your neck. just as one of his hand travels up your body, almost reaching for your chest, your alarm went off.

goddamnit — stupid alarm ruining the climatic part of a dream, when it was getting good. starting off the day with a pissy attitude wasn’t on your to-do list.

realization kicks in as you quickly sat up with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. did you just have a wet dream about miguel? motherfucking spider-man? oh nah man. ain’t no way you dreamt of making out with that dude. don’t be mistaken, the man is handsome and definitely your type but having a wet dream about him? what the fuck. you barely know the guy! well — you know some portions of his life but you aren’t exactly a thing. simply just friends or something like that, nothing more obviously.

maybe you’re just that horny and haven’t been with a man since your ex two years ago. either way, it was kinda weird but also alluring at the same time. of course you’ll never tell a soul, not even daisy. how embarrassing would that be, right?

snapping out of those dumbass thoughts, you get out of bed and start getting ready for the day. you’re supposedly have to drop off some shenanigans at your brother’s place that he forgot when he stayed at your place after his harsh breakup with his hoe of an ex-girlfriend several months ago. after picking out an outfit and getting dressed, you head to the kitchen to make breakfast. you settled on a basic bowl of cereal of your favorite brand. you watch tv while munching on your cereal, daisy sitting beside you snuggled against your thigh. after finishing your cereal, you place the dish in the sink and head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your makeup. as the big music lover you are, you do those two tasks while listening to music. once you did both tasks, you walk back into the living room where the box of your brother’s shenanigans are on the dining table.

while checking to make sure all of his stuff were in the box, a light tapping sound came from the balcony. you look up to see your lovely dovely spiderman standing there. you give him a nod, a sign of approval to allow him entry to your home. with your permission, miguel steps foot inside your apartment. before either of you could greet each other, daisy beats you to it. her tail waggles as she walks up to him, sniffing at his feet as a sign of ‘hello.’ the tall brunette stares down at the fluffy little thing, amused by her sudden liking towards him.

“she really does like you. you’re her favorite person.” you smile at the sight before turning back to inspect the box once again, double checking.

“i think that title belongs to you.” miguel carefully steps past the dog to avoid accidentally stepping on her. as he approaches you, his brows furrowed in curiosity at what you’re doing.

you huffed, a small smile gracing your lips. “nah you’re definitely her new favorite person.” you don’t meet his gaze since you’re too occupied with the box of your brother’s stuff.

he tilts his head to the side, watching you fiddle with the box. “what’s that for?” curiosity in his tone.

“just some of my brother’s shenanigans that he left here. i’m supposed to head over to his place to drop it off.” after confirming everything was inside, you finally turned and meet his gaze. “what’s up?”

for a moment, miguel hesitates to answer, only standing there in silence as he averts from your gaze. you look at him a bit confused, noticing his body language. one hand is fisted into a ball, repeatedly opening and closing. the other hand is hidden behind his back, a little suspicious. what is he holding? before you could say something, he holds up a white tulip in front of you like a shy schoolboy asking his crush on a date. hints of blush on his cheeks. you stare confusingly at the beautiful tulip then at him.

“some old man was selling them so… i figured to get you one…” his eyes remained glued to the floor, feeling too flustered and embarrassed to meet your gaze. god he’s never felt so embarrassed just by a simple kind gesture. this is bombing his ego.

your heart melts at his kind gesture. this is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for you. how cute he looks so shy and flustered. tenderly taking the tulip from his grasp, you give it a light sniff. you adore the smell of fresh flowers. “thanks. it’s kinda ironic since tulips are my favorite.” you walk over to the kitchen and open one of the cabinets to find a vase, luckily you did. you place the beautiful flower inside. you’ll put in your room later.

“i know.” he said sheepishly, finally looking up from the ground with a neutral expression.

you look back at him confusingly, brows furrowed. “how? i never told you before…” pausing for a moment, you think of how he could’ve had known. your eyes widen in realization. “you sneaky son of a bitch, you were eavesdropping.” you glare at him.

miguel scoffs and rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his broad chest. “i wasn’t. i was checking the monitors and happened to come across your conversation in the cafeteria with the others.”

you shoot him a dumbfounded look. “god you’re never beating those stalker allegations.” a sneaky smile crept up on your lips as you walk about to the table and close up the box of shenanigans. you can sense his glaring eyes, making you smile more.

since you don’t hear him leaving, you look back at him with hands on your hips. “what?” it was clear he wanted to say something, so you’re going to make him say it. however, you’re met with silence.

miguel just stands there awkwardly, head lowered to avoid your eyes. his clenched fists repeatedly opened and closed, a sigh of anxiousness. that made you frown confusingly but also concerned. normally you would repeat the question but you were patient, allowing him to figure out his words without feeling pressured. even though miguel isn’t looking at you, you hope he feels your soft gaze instead of your sassy, intimidating one like usual.

“is there… anything else you want?” he finally speaks, barely above a whisper as if he’s afraid to ask. his gaze never left the floor, concealing his flushed face.

your brows raise in surprise, pondering the question. “no, i’m fine. the tulip was nice.” you say softly.

miguel finally looks at you, a displeased look on his face. “no, seriously. is there anything else? the tulip isn’t enough for how you helped me.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, shaking your head. “no it’s okay, miguel. really. i appreciate the flower, you don’t need to get me anything else.”

he waves off with his hand, shaking his head in disapproval. “no, [y/n]. just tell me, please.” he sounds desperate which stuns you.

“you’re not going soft on me, are you, miguelito?” a teasing smirk on your glossy lips.

he blushes at the nickname, all flustered and riled up. “just answer the damn question.” he said in his usual intimidating tone to conceal his flustered face but ultimately fails, which you find it hilarious and cute.

you snort, earning a groan from miguel. honestly, you don’t even know what to think of. the tulip was a perfect gift. what else could you possibly want? you’ve been dying to buy new clothes but you’re not gonna ask him that. you can do that on your own time, whenever the you get the chance since work has been a pain lately. how blank your mind is, no possibilities can into mind. then, an imaginary light bulb appears on your head as an idea pops up. the corner of your lips curl up into a mischievous smile like the grinch. miguel noticed and he’s a bit nervous, that smile never comes off as a good thing.

“you…“ you point at him, that mischievous smile still intact. “have to dog-sit.” you then point at daisy, who’s laying on the couch.

miguel stares completely dumbfounded at you. “dog-sit? are you kidding?”

“you said anything so, you have to dog-sit daisy while i’m gone.” you say happily, folding your arms over your chest. a sense of pride lingering in you.

dog-sit? you want him to watch your dog? oh lord he can’t believe that was your choice out of everything. and you’re right, he said anything and he desperately wants to pay you back correctly. dog-sitting it is.

you sense his apprehension, making that mischievous smile into a soft one. “you’ll be fine. she has everything she needs, food, water and toys. oh she’s a fast eater so if you need more dogfood, bottom left cabinet. water is just in the fridge. the only thing you need to worry about is taking her to the bathroom. other than that, you’re fine.”

he took mental note of all the given information. well, if you say it’s easy, then it shouldn’t be hard then. miguel isn’t the greatest with pets, especially little dogs but daisy seems to like him. yeah it wouldn’t be hard. just watch the dog until you return.

“questions, comments, concerns?” you asked, hands placed on your hips in that iconic sassy posture.

he ponders for a moment. “no, i don’t think so.”

you quickly nod. “sweet. anyways, i gotta head out or else my brother is gonna kill me.” you walk back into your room to grab a cardigan then walk back to the living room. “you’ll be fine, she doesn’t need much.” you said as you put on your shoes then walk over to the table and grab the box but miguel beats you to it.

“hey i got it.” you pout, trying to snatch it from him but he moves it away from your attempt.

“i’ll carry it to your car.” miguel states flatly.

“it’s not even heavy.” you argue, reaching for it a second time but he moves it away again but instead higher in the air so you don’t reach it. not that you can anyways because you’re short and he’s so tall.

“miguel.” you whine with a pout. curse his tallness, it’s not your fault he’s so freakishly tall.

he finds it utterly amusing how your little hands can’t reach the box, even on your tippy toes. a sense of pride flowing through him, prideful of his height. but what miguel finds most entertaining is your pouting expression. your height doesn’t help you, making you look like a helpless bunny. how cute, he thought.

“let’s go.” miguel stated as he walks past you, heading for the front door.

you sigh out of frustration, knowing you weren’t gonna win this battle. accepting defeat, you grab daisy from the couch and follow miguel. after closing the door, the three of you use the elevator and head downstairs to your car outside. once you reached your car and unlocked it, miguel placed the box in the passenger seat then closed the door.

“thank you even though i told you no.” you watch him rolls his eyes at you. “here, it’s like a trade.” you hand daisy to him so abruptly, which catches him off guard but he takes the dog in his hands swiftly. you can’t get over how tiny she looks in his hands. it’s just so amusing yet adorable. they’re gonna have a blast.

“bye mamas.” you pet her head lovingly, making her lean into your touch while licking your hand.

miguel just stares awkwardly at the interaction since it’s happening literally in front of him. although, he finds it cute how much adoration you have for your dog. a pleasant sight to his eyes, and heart.

you look up at miguel, craning your neck all the way up since he’s so damn taller than you. “be nice to her. if i find her crying when i get back, te mato.” you shoot him a light glare, truly meaning your words.

he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “whatever, demonio.”

flashing a smirk as a goodbye, you turn around and got in the car. as you start driving away, daisy starts whining. miguel glances at the dog, rolling his eyes.

“ya cálmate, she’ll be back.” he tries being gentle but there is still irritation in his tone. those ruby eyes follows your car until you’re no longer in sight. with daisy wiggling in his arms, miguel walks back inside your apartment building.

the dog-sitting commences.

━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━

with literally nothing to do other than watch your dog, miguel awkwardly sits on the couch. daisy is eating the dogfood from her bowl in the kitchen. there is a tv but he doesn’t watch television that often. being spider-man and the leader of the spider society means barely any time to himself. he’s just a natural workaholic and dog-sitting isn’t something he’d ever do. nothing against your dog, like mentioned before, daisy likes him but just feels weird to be doing nothing other than watch her. you do have a bookshelf, filled with tons of books. that doesn’t surprised him. if miguel had more time to himself or wasn’t the leader of a group, perhaps he would’ve taken a hobby in reading. since he is a big scientist, it requires lots of reading and miguel was fond of that. but assuming it’s you, that bookshelf is probably filled with romance novels. little does he know it’s actually mostly murder and mystery.

while sitting there awkwardly and fiddling with his hands, daisy walks over to him with her tail wagging. there is a strange look in her eyes; she’s giving him the big doe eyes. shit — she has to go to the bathroom. lifting up from the couch with a groan, miguel scoops up the dog in one hand and exits your apartment to head outside. luckily he brought a change of clothes so no one would catch spider-man randomly walking a dog in public. how awkward and embarrassing that would be?

that title ‘friendly neighborhood spider-man’ would definitely live up its name. however, miguel isn’t friendly. ‘grumpy spider-man’ is more like it.

as daisy does her business, miguel stands there awkwardly waiting. those muscly arms folded over his broad chest, flexing in the process. that white shirt he’s wearing acts more like a compression shirt, heavily outlining his muscles. the gray sweatpants hanging a bit too low, showing off his tiny sluty waist and a tiny sneak peek of his happy trail. while waiting, a few giggles from the distance captures his attention. turning his head in that exact direction, miguel finds two women babbling and drooling over him, batting their lashes at him. he tries to not roll his eyes. sure, he knows he is attractive but something about those two women just annoys him. they seem ignorant and desperate for attention. they’re not like you, you are the opposite of them. you don’t beg for attention. hell you don’t even throw yourself at him. you mostly insult and tease him all the time.

wait — why the hell is he thinking about you?

luckily, daisy finished and walks back to him, her tail waggling happily. snapping out of those weird thoughts, miguel scoops her up again and heads back inside the building. the two women wave at him as an attempt to call him over but miguel ignores them, leaving them devastated.

30 minutes has past and you’re still gone. you never mentioned how long you were gonna be gone but supposedly your brother lives far away or too busy with the stuff. sitting back on the couch, miguel fiddles with his gizmo to make sure the multiverse and everything at HQ was intact. lyla would contact him if so. while checking his gizmo, daisy walks up to him with a green toy ball in her mouth.

miguel looks dumbfounded at the fluffy thing. “no.” she keeps looking up at him with those doe eyes and tail wagging. “no.” he said flatly but it’s no use because she drops the ball at his feet and waits.

“ay dios mio…” he rubs the temples of his forehead with a hand, sighing. miguel bends over and grabs the ball. he gives it a experimental squeeze, a high pitched noise coming from it which excites daisy. the corner of his lips twitch slightly upward at the sight. miguel throws the ball across the living room, landing in front of the tv. daisy chases after it.

the doorknob rattles which makes daisy bark. miguel looks in that direction, watching you enter the apartment. the golden doodle rushes over to you, barking happily at you. she always get excited when you come home. you adore it every time.

“hi mamas! i missed you!” you crouch down and pick her up, carrying her in your arms. you nuzzle your face into her fluffy fur as she attacks your face with adoring licks. you avoid getting licked in the mouth by moving your head around.

closing and locking the door, your eyes land on the tall brunette sitting on the couch. “oh yeah, you.” sarcasm at its peak which earned you a glare from him. “thanks for watching her.”

“well, you were right. it was easy.” miguel lifts up from the couch and approaches you before stopping and stand a few feet from you, folding his arms.

you quickly glance at his outfit, noticing he’s not wearing his usual red and blue suit but instead casual clothes. “where the hell did you get a change of clothes?” you don’t own any men clothes, not since you threw out your ex’s clothes after the breakup.

“i uh brought them from my place. didn’t want people catching me in my suit while walking your dog.” he elaborated.

“huh… smart. anyways, you can go now. they probably need you back at HQ.” you walk to the kitchen and open the fridge to search for dinner options, still carrying daisy in one arm.

miguel just stands there, observing you. it’s true, the society needs him back. he needs to go back, resume his duty as the leader of the spider society and protector of the multiverse. however, he isn’t in the rush to do so. or more precisely, he doesn’t want to leave, not just yet. much to his surprise, miguel actually enjoyed staying in your home. today was one of the first days he wasn’t spider-man, wasn’t at HQ. he was just a human being, just miguel.

“i will but jessica has it under control. i’ll be notified if anything happens.” it’s true he placed jessica in charge while he’s gone. the minute his gizmo beeps with a notification regarding the multiverse, he’ll bolt the fuck out. but since there isn’t any, miguel has no reason to leave just yet.

you hum in surprise, still searching for something to make for dinner. nothing comes to mind. take-out it is then. when he mentioned HQ, you thought about your spidey friends. you miss them terribly, especially hobie. god you miss that brit and his charming voice. you should really take on that offer of spending time with him in his universe. hopefully one day.

“hey, do you mind i visit HQ again? i miss my spider peeps.” you turn around, looking at him while petting daisy’s head with a loving touch.

miguel had to resist the urge to smile at your response. he would love for you to visit again, visit him. “fine but i’ll give you a watch so you can get there faster instead of driving.”

your eyes lit up in excitement. “oooo like the fancy one you have?” you point at his watch.

he nods. “yes.”

“killer.” you offer a gentle smile.

you two are definitely friends at this point, whether miguel likes to admit it or not. but honestly, you’re more than just friends. it’s unclear but there is definite chemistry between you two.

spider-man and his pretty little friend.

ᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁. 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˖ ࣪ ༘ @loser-alert @keepitreal001 @iamperson12280 @nostalgicdaira @flordelalunas @oharasfilipinawife @cho-coquette @lavenderslemonade @palesatan @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @lilscast @beanieboy23 @dorck26 @kakabskbskdnd @4crew @deputy-videogamer @36namey @sin4tra @holographicang3l @migueloharasoulmate @darlingz99 @opalesquegirl @freehentai @rinverse @colorfulbluebirdpainter @razertail18

#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #fanfic series

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yandere-writer-momo · 9 months

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Imagine that Katsumi is in love with the reader, but she has a favorite partner whom she loves dearly and with whom she wants a family (Katsumi is a good friend to her, but that doesn't stop him from acting from afar)

The reader possibly has trouble conceiving (or the partner has sperm problems??) and they go for IVF or take sperm donation?

I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS SHIT WORKS.

I'm just offering the idea that Katsumi infiltrates the sperm donation building and replaces it with hers

I kind of do and don’t. I really, really liked this idea so I made a short story.

Warning: this story is kind of messed up

Yandere Baki Short Stories: Family

Yandere Katsumi Orochi x Afab Reader x Jack Hanma

………………………………………

A young woman sat across from her best friend, Orochi Katsumi, at a cafe. The two enjoyed a hot cup of coffee together while they chatted. As of late, there had been trouble in paradise for (your name).

“I’m sorry to hear that you and Jack can’t have kids…” Katsumi whispered while his leg bounced anxiously under the table. Despite the sympathetic expression he had on his face, Katsumi was actually thrilled to hear this. He was happy that she wouldn’t be able to have kids with Jack because he was practically infertile from his excessive steroid usage. It made him happy that Jack couldn’t give her what she wanted… not like Katsumi could.

(Your name) was oblivious of Katsumi’s feelings for her. She had no idea her best friend was madly in love with her. That Katsumi was willing to do anything to ensure her happiness.

“I know… it really sucks…” (Your name) frowned while she played with her thumbs. “Do you think I should try IVF? It’s sort of a last resort but… I really want a baby.” (Your name) blushed in embarrassment to her admittance to her desire to be a mother.

“Well I actually know a doctor who specializes with that. I could hook you up.” Katsumi’s eyes sparkled. He did have a connection through Shinshinkai and if she accepted… both of their dreams could come true…

“You’d do that for me?” (Your name) smiled warmly at Katsumi. Her heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness.

“Of course I would.” Katsumi chuckled when (your name) ran around the table to wrap her arms around him in joy. Katsumi hugged her tightly and softly whispered to himself. “I’d do anything for you.”

“You want to… father her child?” The doctor asked Katsumi who gave him a sheepish grin. “But you’re not her husband…”

“You said yourself that her husband is completely infertile. I’d hate to see my best friend pay all this money and not be able to have a child come from it.” Katsumi tried to play the role of a concerned friend. Although what he said was partially the truth, Katsumi was doing this out of his own selfish desire to father (your name)’s children… Katsumi has been in love with her for years and this could bring them closer… maybe she’d realize what was right in front of her if he gave this small piece of himself to her.

“You have a point… she did seem to really want that baby… I’d hate to crush her dreams of being a mother. The birth rates are already so low...” The doctor sighed and set his clipboard down. “Alright. If you’re willing to do this for your friend.”

“I’d do anything for (Your name).” Katsumi smiled, his body trembled in excitement. Soon… soon he’d begin his perfect family with (your name).

Katsumi’s heart soared when he saw (your name) again after a month. Katsumi always texted and called her but to see her in person was even more magical…

Her belly had started to become round and cute and she had a bright smile on her face while she placed a hand lovingly over her stomach.

“Katsumi! The doctor was able to make it work for this little miracle.” (Your name) did a spin and beamed at him. “We don’t know the gender yet but I think it’s a little boy…”

Katsumi blushed at how happy she was. Katsumi reached his hand out to touch her stomach, his eyes sparkled in awe. His baby was inside of her. No… their baby.

(Your name) smiled at Katsumi’s awestruck expression. Katsumi seemed starstruck to see her pregnant which was funny since she never knew he liked babies.

“Two and a half more months and they’ll start kicking… I’ll also find out the gender then.” (Your name) smiled warmly at Katsumi whose hand rubbed her stomach in a daze.

(Your name) noticed how Katsumi seemed a bit off. His cheeks were flushed and he shook like a leaf. Was he okay?

“Katsumi?”

“They’re going to be so beautiful…” Katsumi whispered which made (your name) smile.

If only she knew what he meant by that…

Jack stood with (your name) at the baby shower, the giant felt out of place amongst their happy peers. Jack’s brown eyes softened at his wife while she accepted various gifts from people.

Jack couldn’t believe all the people that showed up… even Baki and Kozue came. Kozue cooed over (your name)’s baby bump while she nudged at Baki to hint that she wanted a baby as well.

“Look how cute she is! They’re going to have a little boy!” Kozue hissed while (your name) laughed.

“Hey, get off my case. We’re too young for all that yet.”

“But Baki, look at these little shoes!” Kozue held up a pair of baby shoes up to Baki which caused (your name) and Jack to laugh. “Little baby feet are so cute… please?”

The group laughed together until Katsumi came over with a gift. The karateka smiled warmly at (your name).

“I got you a gift as well, (your name).” Katsumi had a red blush on his cheeks, his hands stared her round stomach in awe.

(Your name) smiled and accepted the gift. She opened the gift to see it was an omamori charm with a little tiger on it along with a tiger plush.

“This is so cute. Thank you, Katsumi.”

“I just can’t wait for the little tiger to be born.” Katsumi chuckled. (Your name) smiled warmly at her best friend. “He’s going to have such a wonderful family…”

She had no idea that this baby was actually Katsumi’s.

Jack noticed a strangeness in Katsumi’s behavior. The karateka hovered over Jack’s wife like a surveillance drone. His hands constantly reached for her stomach to touch and Jack could tell (your name) had started to become a little afraid of him.

Jack started to tag along when (your name) would meet up with Katsumi. She has reached the eighth month mark and she was constantly being kicked by the baby inside of her. Jack could see little bumps on her stomach frequently, that kid was going to be a fighter… Jack felt horrible for (your name).

Katsumi’s eyes sparkled when he felt the many kicks on his hand. (Your name) nervously chuckled at his thrilled expression. Katsumi’s touchiness had started to make her extremely uncomfortable… but Katsumi was her best friend. She trusted him.

“He’s going to be a fighter… how about I teach him karate once he can walk?” Katsumi offered, he pressed his ear against her stomach. It was when he attempted to kiss it that caused Jack to get up.

Jack couldn’t take it anymore. The blonde grabbed the scruff of Katsumi’s shirt and dragged him out of their house. (Your name) sat in her rocking chair in confusion but she knew better than to interfere. Jack would get it sorted out..

Once they were outside, Jack picked Katsumi off the ground to glare at him. His fist balled up the front of Katsumi’s shirt.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you all over her like that-“

“Can’t I be happy about my son being born soon.” Jack felt his blood run cold at Katsumi’s words, the blonde dropped Katsumi in pure shock. The baby wasn’t his… it wasn’t Jack’s…

“But we did IVF-“

“You don’t have any sperm Jack.” Katsumi clicked his tongue and glanced at the house’s window. Katsumi spotted (your name) bouncing on her exercise ball with one hand on her stomach. “How could I not allow her to have the chance to be a mother-“

Jack slammed his fist into Katsumi’s face, the Japanese man tumbled to the ground with a broken nose. Blood splattered all over the grass.

“You fucker!” Jack hissed. The blonde stood over Katsumi with a heated glare. “You did this on purpose! I always thought you felt something towards her but to do this… I’m going to fucking kill you-“

A loud squeal was heard from the house. Jack rushed over to (your name) to see that her water had broke.

“They’re coming early, I guess.” (Your name) tried to joke while her body was wracked with contractions. “They just can’t wait to meet us…”

Jack called an ambulance while Katsumi sat on their front lawn. The karateka smiled while he held his bloody nose.

His baby was finally going to be here…

(Your name) was shocked at the mess of dark hair on top of her little bundle. Why was the baby’s hair so dark? It should have been blonde like Jack’s… and that’s when she noticed how similar this baby looked to a certain karateka… and then it all clicked. This wasn’t Jack’s baby. It was Katsumi’s.

Jack held her hand while the two of them cried together. She finally had her baby but Katsumi finally had his family.

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nnobodoodles · 27 days

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Got a couple CrocHawk tags in my silly comic and yes, now I can't stop thinking their separate dynamic is like:

"Let's have a marriage of convenience business partnership. We are both wanted men running from the law together. We both have deep trust issues rooted in our still unrevealed past, and there is always the lingering question of whether we will betray each other too. It's very possible. We very likely shared the same abandoned dream once. We have fought each other in the past and you are a formidable foe I respect. But for now, let's discuss our plans to slowly disempower law enforcement, make money and create a little utopia we can rule ourselves and live in peace. Oh shit, a clown infiltrated our marriage. Anyway, now we are adopting 2 pugs and 11 bananawani-"

#out of all the characters I can't believe I can picture THESE two being domestic #the Cross Guild is a shitshow I miss them all #CrocHawk #Wanitaka #stop that's a cute name actually #Sir Crocodile #Dracule Mihawk #One Piece

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vanfleeter · 1 month

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Matched: Chapter 1 - The Reunion

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Thea Warnings: 18+. Drinking. Angst. Smut. Lust. Protected sex (p in v). Oral sex (m & f receiving). Fluff. (please let me know if I missed anything) Author's Note: Beginning of an adventure told through the eyes of Jacob.

When I met her, I found myself immediately attracted to her. Pathetic, I know. There was just something about her that drew me to her. Her eyes sparkle when she’s happy but show utter despair when she’s not. I fear if a flower were to look upon her sadness, it would wilt. But the life that shines through when she’s happy is like bathing in the sunlight, warm and comfortable. Her smile is contagious, you can’t help but smile when she does. Her laugh is melodious, like a song you want to listen to over and over again and never tire of hearing it. Her hair, long and dark as it flows over her shoulders and halfway down the spine of her back. Her skin lights me on fire in the best possible way. I crave to feel her skin against mine, tracing my fingers along her skin, tracing every curve and goosebump that raises as I make my mark on her.

I thought I was shit out of luck when I found out that Sam liked her too. Pursued her in every possible way until he finally got her to agree to go out on a date with him. I kept my distance whenever she came around, looked away when he’d kiss her. I tried to keep myself distracted from her, dated around–but no one compared to her. No was like her. I thought of her whenever I had myself buried inside of another woman. She consumed my thoughts at every waking hour, she even infiltrated my dreams.

Seeing her with Sam physically pained me. Did she make him feel the same way she makes me feel? Did he get butterflies whenever he saw her? Did his heart pound in his chest when she was near? Would his palms get sweaty? Did he ever stutter over his words when he spoke with her because of how nervous she makes him?

I would do anything to have her–but she’s with my brother. I can’t do that to him. I can’t be selfish, wanting her all to myself. He seems to genuinely like her, her him. He’s happy, and I don’t want to be the one to ruin that.

Fate, though, seemed to have different plans.

After being away for nearly a year, traveling around the boat, like I’ve always wanted to do–something my twin brother thought was insane, I had come back home to be told of the news that I used to be so desperate to hear.

“We broke up..” Sam says as he pops the top off of a beer bottle and hands it over to me. I gladly take it and drink some of it.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say as I set the bottle down on the table. “When did it happen?”

“A few weeks after you left on your boat trip,” He sits down across the table from me and takes a drink of his own beer. “But it ended on good terms.. We mutually decided to split. We fit better as friends.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Sam nods his head, takes another drink of his beer. The bustle of the people in the bar toned down a little, finally. Between the loud music and the people raising their voices over it to be heard made my head want to explode.

I see his face light up and he waves someone over. “I didn’t think you were going to make it!” He says as he slides out of the booth to hug the incoming guest. I nearly choke on my beer when I see her walking over.

It’s only been a year but somehow she looks different. Her long hair was now shorter, stopping just above her breasts. Those seemed to have gotten bigger too.

Knock it off, Jake. Be respectful.

She stands there, dressed in a black leggings that accentuate her curves and she’s wearing a dark red sweater, a little low cut revealing the top half of her cleavage.

After their hug ends, Sam invites her to join us in the booth. She happily agrees and slides in beside him. My heart hammers in my chest, the same way it always has. I hadn’t thought of her the whole time I was away–or at least the last six months of my trip, I wasn’t. It only took me half the trip to finally decide to get over her. Now here she is, seated across from me, looking more beautiful than she did when I had last seen her.

“So, Jake..” I lift my eyes to look at her. The way she says my name, innocently enough, but still does something to me. “How was your boating trip? I saw a few things you’ve posted, looked like fun.”

“It was good,” I say as I take another drink. “Relaxing, it felt nice to get away from everything for a little while.”

She smiles and it just about kills me and I can’t fight the urge to smile back. “I’m glad you had a good time. Missed you though..”

She missed me?

“Feels good being back?”

“Yeah, it does.” I say.

Sam then excuses himself to the bathroom. He’s leaving us alone. Now the sweaty palms set in. I run them against the fabric of my jeans, willing the nerves to go away. It’s been over a year, almost two, since we were ever alone together. It was quiet between us. Neither one of us is speaking. I had no words, unsure of what to say exactly as the woman I once loved sits in the booth across from me.

Could this really be happening? Is fate trying its damndest to push us back together, though we have never been together? Or is this some cruel joke from the universe, bringing us together like this, only then to rip us apart and force me through the tragic heartbreak of seeing her loving on someone else?

“I saw that you made a stop along the coast of Florida back in June.” She finally says. “Not to sound stalkerish, but I saw you there.”

I looked up again, meeting her eyes. “You were there? You saw me?”

She nods her head. “I wanted to talk to you but uh, you seemed a bit preoccupied with a blonde–practically swallowing her tongue.” My cheeks burned in a flush and I ran a hand through my hair. She giggles and leans back in the booth. “I would’ve gone to see you the next day, but your boat was already gone.”

“You would have come to me?” I ask, not believing a word she was saying. She would have come to me. I barely remember being there. I don’t think I would have remembered her if she did come to me. I barely remember the blonde. I wouldn’t deny that if I woke up with her wrapped up around me, I wouldn’t have been upset. It’s everything I had longed for, to have her wrapped around my body, whimpering my name as I made her come apart at the mercy of my own hands.

“I should’ve gone sooner, maybe I would’ve caught you before you left.” She says, leaning forward on the table.. “After that, you were never seen or heard from. Next thing I know, today comes and Sam is calling me, inviting me out because you finally came back home.”

“And you still came?”

I can see the light blush in her cheeks. She nods her head and smiles. “After seeing you in Florida, you were all I could think about. Hoping you were safe but also hoping you would come back home.”

“I would have, eventually..”

“I see that now.”

My mouth presses into a tight lipped smile. Glancing around the bar, I notice that Sam hasn’t emerged from the bathroom. Pulling out my phone, I shot him a quick text.

‘Where are you?’

Just as quick, he response comes back. ‘Went home. Have some fun! ;)’

“Um well,” I cleared my throat. “Seems like Sam has ditched us.”

“You’re kidding..”

I shake my head and stuff my phone back into my pocket.

Come on, Jake.. Take your chance. She’s here. Don’t let her get away again.

“I’m going to go pay the tab, and then maybe we can get out of here?” I say, in hopes that she’ll say yes. When she nods her head, I begin to slide out of the booth and make my way up to the bar to close the tab. I’ll request the money later from Sam as payment for ditching us. Though I’m secretly hoping tonight won’t be all bad.

If she had shown up on my boat, I would have taken her with me. I would have taken her everywhere with me. So long as I had her and knew she was mine, I would have done it.

“I still have it,” I say. “The boat.”

Having not driven to the bar this evening, I had no other way home. So a walk is what we took back to my place. A place she’s never been. A place that has never been graced with her presence, everything inside untouched. Now she’s here, standing in my living room and holding a glass of wine.

“You brought it all the way here?”

I nod my head. Taking her hand, I pull her out of the living room and out the back door towards the pole barn. Her eyes grew twice their size when I pulled her through the door and flipped on the lights.

“This is so much bigger than I thought it was.” She says as she approaches the boat. She runs her fingers along the still glistening paint. “Don’t tell me you brought women on to this..”

I chuckle but shake my head. “No.. I didn’t think anyone was worth bringing onto this.” I find myself stepping behind her, placing my hands on her hips and drawing her close to me. “Except you..”

She turns her head to the side and lifts her eyes up to look at him. “Only me?”

I nod my head and pull away to lead her around to the back where the ladder is. I drag it down and help her climb up. “I was selfish.. Hoping that I’d find you out there somewhere and that I’d take you back here and make love to you like I’ve always wanted to.”

I caught her biting her bottom lip. She steps up to me and slowly wraps her arms around my neck. “What if we did that now?” She asks.

She.. I stood there, not believing the words that she had spoken. After everything that transpired; our meeting, her falling in love with Sam and then them dating, my heart longing to be hers and she to be mine, and then my leaving. Now she stands before me, suggesting the act of making love to be committed at this moment.

“It’s not the same without being on the waves…” I say with a sly smile.

She shrugs her shoulders and pulls away before walking around me. She ducks inside but peers back out. “We can make our own waves.”

Oh fuck.

I didn’t want to seem desperate and run right after her but at the same time I wanted to run after her. So I met in the middle and hastily went after her. I brought her to the bedroom and gently laid her out on the bed.

Is this really happening?

Her legs wrap around my waist and she pulls me down on top of her. Her breasts are fully pressed up against my chest. Leaning down, I press my lips to hers. My god, they feel so good. They were everything I imagined they would be. Soft and nearly smooth, save for a few breaks in the sensitive skin.

On instinct, my hips grind against her core and she moans into my mouth. I know I’m growing hard and I know she knows because I feel her hand snake its way between our bodies. She cups her hand around my clothed length and slowly starts to move her hand in circles. I groan and bury my face in her neck where I lick and I suck on her skin, leaving a noticeable mark.

I will always mark her so everyone knows that she belongs to me now.

Not being able to contain myself, I pull away and unbutton the rest of my shirt before sliding it off and tossing it somewhere in the room. She sits up as well and removes her top, revealing her braless chest to me. Immediately, I latch onto her left breast as I begin to massage her right one. I circle her nipple with my tongue before lightly nipping at it, which elicits a deep moan from within her.

Licking her nipples once more, I pull away again only to hook my fingers beneath the waistband of her leggings and drag them down her legs along with her panties. I find them to be black and all lace. I wonder if her bra matches, if she ever chose to wear it. Once I have her pants off, I move downwards, hooking her legs over my shoulders.

Her cunt is right there in front me and I couldn’t feel any luckier than I do at this moment. I bet I’m better than any lover she’s ever had.

“Jake…” I hear her whine. It makes my cock twitch inside my pants. Guess I know now that I like to hear her whine like that.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” I tease as I bring my hand to her center and slowly rub my thumb in circles over her clit.

She moans and reaches down with her hands to tug at my hair. “You know what..”

I smirk and move my face closer, removing my thumb and rubbing my nose against her clit instead. I flick out my tongue and lick upwards through her folds, as slowly as possible, just to drive her crazy.

I lick and I suck and I thrust my fingers inside of her until I have her legs clutching my head tightly between them. She comes undone at my mercy and I drink up every drop she has to offer.

Pulling away, I gently drop her legs to the bed and undo my belt before unbuttoning and shoving them down my legs. Digging into my wallet, I pull out a condom and slide it on my length. She moves up the bed to make herself more comfortable and I crawl after her, resting once again in between her legs.

In one swell thrust, I’m plunging deep inside of her, stretching her out. We both moan in pleasure as I bottom out. I’ve always dreamt of this, having my cock buried so far inside of her and making the most beautiful love to her. And now it’s becoming real. I start to move, thrusting in and out at a delicious pace. I come to rest my arms on either side of her head, tangling my fingers inside of her hair.

Her naked breasts bounce with each of my thrusts, they brush against my chest, which turns me on even more. I feel her hook her leg against my waist before I’m suddenly flipped onto my back and she’s on top of me, straddling me. She laughs at the surprised look on my face.

Fuck yeah I’m surprised. No woman has ever done that before.

She keeps the pace I had going, lifting herself up on her knees before letting herself drop back right back down. I can tell she’s close as her walls clench around me.

“Soak me, Thea..” I bring my hand between us and rub her throbbing clit. Her fingers dig into my chest and thrust my hips upwards, pushing myself deeper. My name falls from her mouth as her release coats every inch of me and continues to ride me until her orgasm is through.

Before I even had a chance to register how beautiful she looked, she was off of me in a second and rolling off the condom. Her mouth swallows me and she begins working me to my own release.

“Fuck..” I clutch the sheets in my hands as my legs shake. I didn’t even know I could do that.

Soon she has me coming to my release, the orgasm washing cleanly over me. Her tongue. Goddamn. She licks me from shaft to tip, not missing a single drop of my own release.

Once she is finished and my orgasm subsides into nothing, she crawls back up to me and curls into my side, draping her leg across my waist.

“That was… Wow..” I breathed, my chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as I worked to relax my body. She giggles against my chest and begins to draw little circles on my skin.

“Jake?” I hum in acknowledgment, waiting for her to continue. “Had we seen each other again in Florida, would you have taken me with you?”

I nod my head and look down at her. “In a heartbeat.”

There was a part of me that couldn’t believe that this is all real, that if I were to wake up tomorrow morning, she would be gone and I would have dreamed all of this. A dream that I never would want to wake from, because she’s here and she’s in my arms.

____________________________________________________

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belle-keys · 5 months

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Saltburn: The Reign of British Bourgeois (Meta)

I recently had an interesting conversation with a close friend of mine who said, "I don't think Saltburn is really about class." She said she thought it was mainly about obsession, in the most individualist and interpersonal way possible. I naturally disagreed, and we argued about it for an hour. But I think the reason she didn't think it was really about class was because the film had a categorically anti-Marxist conclusion. That is, a very British conclusion. In many ways, Saltburn is a Thatcherite's wet dream. Let's discuss.

Saltburn isn’t an “Eat The Rich” narrative. It’s an “Absorb The Rich” narrative. I disagree that Saltburn is merely about an individual’s obsession with a particular guy or family. Saltburn is about the bourgeoisie’s obsession with the old English aristocracy.

Let’s establish the establishment: the modern English aristocracy whose family seats litter the shires. Saltburn aims to satirize the English Country House family drama, and then some. This is made evident when Felix informs Ollie that, whoa, the Evelyn Waugh himself based Brideshead Revisited and other works on Saltburn, on Felix’s family. The film, in my opinion, was kinda ballsy to go there and to do it so bluntly. So yeah, Saltburn wants to poke fun at the long-established English tradition of aristocratic family dramas such as Downton Abbey, Brideshead Revisited, Bridgerton, Poldark, Rebecca, etc. It’s no coincidence that the movie begins with an egregiously stereotypical sketch of Ollie struggling to fit in at Oxford, à la Charles Ryder. Felix Catton is Sebastian Flyte, and then some. And Ollie is obsessed with him, because look at him. Except… I believe Ollie’s obsession with Felix is less of an interpersonal homoerotic deranged clusterfuck than it is the bourgeois boy’s perennial fixation with the unreachable closed-door English aristocracy, the national pinnacle of inherited class and status in a nation founded on inherited class and status.

Saltburn, butler and all, is a perfect symbol of English aristocratic privilege (seconded by none other than Oxford, but the film didn’t care to explore the hierarchies present in British education and instead chose to focus on family in lieu of academia). Saltburn is grand, medieval, kitchy, isolated in the middle of whereverthefuckshire. One would think that Ollie was intending to infiltrate Saltburn to possess Felix, but I rather think he was intending to infiltrate Felix in order to possess Saltburn. To possess Saltburn is to possess the rank and place of the Catton’s in the world, to be the world. And Ollie doesn’t want to destroy the Cattons nearly as much as he wants to embody them.

I suppose Ollie’s need to absorb, to consume, to possess and to incarnate is obvious through his actions—drinking Felix’s semen in the bathtub, the period blood bit, the grave-fucking debacle. He worms his way through every aspect of the family members’ lives with the intent to become them, to suck them dry (see: “I’m a vampire”, how gothic). By the end when the Cattons are all dead, Ollie celebrates the privilege he has grasped, and in turn, the film applauds his feat rather than condemns him. Saltburn is a film that congratulates Ollie’s usurping of wealth and privilege, rooting for him from beginning to end. And the film never tries to interrogate itself and ask why Ollie is our hero. Ollie, who does not want to break the wheel as much as he wants to be in the room where it happens, even if that means destroying everyone else in his path. Ollie’s obsession, generally speaking, arises from the desire for status and rank rather than an inoccuous maniacal insanity. This is symbolized by his possession and control of Saltburn. If Saltburn were a gothic ghost story, then Ollie is our specter. And Saltburn is definitely rooting for the specter, full stop.

Britain is a nation of ranks and hierarchies, naturally averse to watering down pristine intergenerational blue blood with filthy postmodern capitalist dollars. “Stay in your place”, that is the Tory way. Even in a “modern, democratic” nation nonetheless governed by an antiquated Tory hegemony and quite opposed to both radicalism and revolution. Ollie, however, wants to be in the room where it happens in a world where only those who are born in that room ever get to enter it. It is why he faces this overwhelming yearning for Felix’s world and Saltburn’s beauty – it is, by default, off-limits to him no matter how hard he tries to reach it. In my opinion, Ollie’s fascination with Saltburn isn’t due to a homoerotic fixation on Felix. It’s due to an outsider’s bourgeois fixation on the romantic world of inherited English rank, status, and wealth. The romance of Saltburn, our need to romanticize the privileged upper class, is evident in the stunning cinematography and costuming. Farleigh is the first person in the family to notice Ollie’s insecurities and see it for what it is – he’s begging to be let in. Farleigh likewise takes the opportunity to constantly, antagonistically remind Ollie that Saltburn isn’t his world, that he will never fit in and will never be accepted as one of them: the tux will never perfectly fit. It is the tragedy of the almost-theres. So Ollie decides to just get rid of everyone in his way and prance about naked since the tux refuses to bloody fit.

It’s just so English, culturally speaking. To claw your way to the top to sit with the big boys rather than to criticize the system that bred the arduous, back-breaking, fatal climb in the first place. This is Tory meritocracy, founded on decades of policies to reduce taxes on properties such as Saltburn in Britain, to keep old peers in the Lords. Felix Catton is Sebastian Flyte is Margaret Thatcher. Thatcher who, despite brandishing her “common” background as a selling point during her political career, painstakingly perfected the Received Pronunciation of her Eton parliamentary peers and successfully died with the coveted title of Baroness added to her name. Thatcher, an Oxford scholarship kid like Ollie, who wormed her way into a title and country house and was yet forever plagued by her average, middle-class upbringing.

Ollie is obsessed with much more than a mere man. If Saltburn were a Marxist class story, truly dedicated to class critcism or subverting the English Country House drama, Ollie would have burned the whole damn place down. But Saltburn is rather a Tory class story about the insane lengths the British bouregoisie, obsessed with ascending class hierarchies and disillusioned by the lies of meritocracy, will go to possess the near-unpossessable ranks at the peak of English-textured privilege. The film is a performance in English upper-class tomfoolery and a celebration of its infiltration by the almost-theres.

And yet, the cycle perpetuates itself. Saltburn is ruled by a new lord. Nothing, really, has changed.

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