#it’s not a matter of what you’re doing right now but what i will say if this conversation surrounding palestine dies down and people just | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 2 days

Note

Hiiii, I have a request- could you do like jealous or after arguement smex- you can pick any sort of of storyline or any jjk character. (prefferbly a character like sukuna or toji because i feel like they'd be kind mean about it)

Tyy

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oof, i think after an argument, sex w/kuna would go crazyyy (esp true form! like yikes)

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - fingering (f! receiving) - impact play (spanking + pussy slaps) - clitoral play (grinds, swipes, and pinches) - biting - pinching - degradation (bitch, whore) - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - backshots/doggy position - pet names ([little]dove, my wife, pet, woman) - multiple orgasms - mention of drool/spit and blood.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

You dare avoid him? The King of Curses? Did the screws in your brain finally come loose, and now you’ve gone mad?

Ryōmen Sukuna rarely lets things slide. He is considered the top dog of the cursed Jujutsu world – he doesn’t find himself bowing down to things because things are supposed to bow to him. Anything and everything doesn’t go unnoticed under his gaze, as that’s the order of things that are supposed to happen.

And this philosophy doesn’t stop with you — his little dove.

Being engaged to a human spouse already raises flags of inconsistency. It isn’t rare for you and Sukuna to argue; the workers of the fortress where you reside can attest to this. The love is there, but Sukuna expects you to understand your standing in this marriage. You may be what he always keeps by his side. However, even you shouldn’t overstep him so carelessly.

Nonetheless, your humanness continues to poke him; your resilience is a thorn to your giant husband’s side. The more disagreements you clash with him, the bolder you’ve become in your standing, which makes the cursed man proud, albeit prefers it wasn’t directed towards him.

And now, after he puts his thunderous foot down and shuts you up with your bickering, you decide to be courageous enough to turn your back on him? Him? Your betrothed? He couldn’t believe what he saw; your expression molded to neutrality before you turned on your heel and headed somewhere away from him. And then you don’t respond when he calls out to you — the absolute nerve.

Oh, you knew Sukuna wasn’t the one to be daring with, especially when you think you can get the last laugh. So, it would be best if he corrected your foolishness.

“—Dahhh! Su’kunaa, stop! Let go—Ohhh!”

“Shut your mouth. Think you’re in any position to order me now, huh?”

He has you pinned to the tatami flooring, his upper hand on your head to keep your cheek printed on the mat despite your cries. The upper right hand has a good hold on your waist while his lower right hand grips your ankle to keep your legs spread. And with the lower left, he uses it to tease and toy with your chasm. The mouth of his chasm laps around your labia to lick the fluids that coat your slit while his middle and ring fingers grind on your sore clitoris.

This is your punishment: your husband reprimanding you as he gesticulates around your body. You can cry and holler all you want, squirm out of his hold when knowing your efforts are futile. He doesn’t care because he knows that he will make this point to you no matter what.

The tongue of his palm easily swallows your essence, pushing the muscle into your cunt to fuck you. You nearly choke on spit, sensing the considerable muscle swirl around your insides and graze your walls. “Mmph! Oh, fuck—Nnnm! Sukuna, no! I just came seconds ag—Oooh!”

“Do I care?” He raises his sole pink brow, four red eyes scanning your figure, writhing because of his touch. “You will cum however many times I say, my wife.” He draws out the last words to your ear, enjoying how small you appear under his massive shape.

He lives for your shrieks, your pitch going higher and higher with every flick of his tongue. Swiping your clit makes it harder to maintain balance, your resolve slipping through your fingers with every push and pull of the abnormal tongue.

“Hahhh, ahhhshit, shiiiit,” your eyebrows scrunch together, nails purchasing on the tatami mat beneath you, which you’re sure your scratches would cause damage. Again, not that your jerk of a spouse would care; he is probably getting a kick out of you losing your poise because of him. “Ooh, ‘Kunaa, y’re going too fast…Nnnn !”

“Oh? Does the dove think I’m going too fast?” Sukuna licks the helix of your ear tantalizingly slow, and you gasp when he bites it while the mouth of his palm sloppily kisses the entrance of your vagina. “You wish to cum again, woman?”

You nod hurriedly, his chuckle rumbling to the core of your heart. The hand on your waist comes up to smack your ass, denting the skin by piercing his fingertips. You howl in pain, “Yesss, I wanna cum again!”

“Hmph, no,” he removes his hand from your throbbing folds before slapping it; the abrupt action erupts a choked sob. Screams fly out at the pinch of his fingers on your delicate bud; the pain from your chasm stings, making your head pound. “You’re not some whore who gets to cum when they want; you’re mine, and cumming without my permission will get you into predicaments worse than this. Are we clear, pet?”

You had no choice in the matter, propping your ass up and your face down, forcing you to take his two cocks with both of your holes.

“Aiishhh, oh Lord, Shhlow down! I’m t’oo full…!”

“Mmnn, khheh, I bet you are, grippin’ on my cocks like a real bitch in heat…”

His lower hands keep hold of your hips, keeping you glued to his pelvis as he pistons his fat dicks into your ass and vagina. The tip brushes on your inner walls, and you mewl at every push as the girth stretches your caves. His upper hands keep you held down to the floor, submitting you to his robust stature that easily swallows your small frame.

Your face is still on the floor, drool trickling down your lips as ineligible babbles seep out. “Nnmahh, ahhaa…!” God, he puts so much strength on your poor body; the inability to move or move away from him keeps you immovable for him.

Sukuna’s pace is unforgiving, propelling himself into your leaky wetness with no remorse. The fact that he has you come two times already doesn’t concern him; if anything, it aids him in pushing to and fro from your tight cunt. He bites his lip from how your rear contracts around him—so snug for his dual limbs as if you’d milk him dry.

“Fsshoo, ohhmy Go—Daah!” A hand finds its way to the left wrist on your shoulder. “Ohh, ‘Kunaa!”

Your wails are broken when he bends down; the added weight is so lethal that you might end up being pressed and being one with the tatami mat. “Hmm? What is it, woman?”

“—Ahhck! Fuuuhuck, pleaseee, can I pwease cu–Uhhmm?!”

You make him snicker, pulling back his rhythm to implement slow yet harsh ruts to your openings while throwing a slap to your asscheek. “Why should I let you?”

A tear rolls down your hot cheek. “Pleasee, forg’ve me! I shouldn’t have…turned my back on you...”

Crimson eyes narrow while observing the way your ass quakes from his powerful pounds. Sukuna then comes to your shoulder to bite on your shoulder, and of course, you yelp bitterly. The sight of his canines drawing blood from his mark dials his excitement. “Say it properly, pet,” he purrs as he licks the wound on your shoulder.

“Hmmm! Suk’naa, my Lord…”

“Hmm?” He cups and squeezes your cheeks with his upper left for access to kiss your neck, and the lower left snakes down to play with your clit again.

Rubs on your pearl have you squeaking for him and eyes rolling upward— all desperate and aching for your release that you could break any moment. “Forgive me for stepping out of line...Hooooh, I wanna cum on yer cocks,” you admit while swaying your hips. “Please allow me to cum.”

“Depends,” you gulp at his quick answer. “This will be your only kind warning for this; if you dare do it again, don’t ever think of asking me.” Sukuna licks your cheek before he chews on the flesh, your breath halting at the graze of his fangs. “Understand?”

Your brave side takes over to turn to him meekly, watery eyes meeting his fierce red ones – a good move on your part. “Yess, my husband…”

And he sneers. “There you go, little dove.”

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luveline · 3 days

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Mothers day lil fic with eddie x reader from june baby? 👉🏻👈🏻

mom!reader, 1.5k “Big stretch!”

You hold your arms above your head, stretching as tall as you can go. Your t-shirt rises and exposes the soft stretch of your tummy, stretch marks decorating your skin and lightened in the sun as you lean to your left side.

“Okay, now we count. One, two…”

“Three,” Junie says. “Five, six, seven.”

“You forgot four, babe. Let’s try again, okay?” You stretch to your right side. “One, two, three…”

“Five, six, four–”

You giggle. Junie, who wasn’t doing a very good job at copying your yoga poses to begin with, hears you laughing and drops her short arms to her sides. “Tummy!” she says, jumping forward to push her hand into your stomach.

“I’m telling Eddie you did that. So nasty.” You drop your arms.

“Tummy,” she says again, poking at your belly button.

You catch her hands in yours and level her with a feigned glare. “What are you trying to say about my tummy?”

She beams. It’s lovely to have a little baby that looks like you. Her joy is yours, her smile made up of your lips and teeth. She’s a mirror, and you could never not think she was gorgeous —it makes you gorgeous too.

“Guess we’re done stretching?” you ask.

She lifts her hands to your sides, a gesture to be grabbed. You lean down to collect her and drag her up for a hug, holding her low at the back to encourage face to face time. “What, you’re not talking to me?” you ask warmly.

She touches your neck.

“I know,” you say. You’re pretty sure you get it.

Outside, tires roll across grass and road alike. You listen for the whine of Eddie’s van as it parks, grinning all over again when it comes. He’s not supposed to see you today, it’s Sunday, he has too much stuff to do.

If he’s outside, it means he swapped his shifts again or called out, which means he’s gonna give you one of his speeches about being sickly sweet in love with you. You can pretend you don’t like them as much as you want, but there’s no better feeling than being loved like you’re something special.

You open the door before he can, and he needs it, anyhow. To your confusion, he’s carrying a cellophane wrapped bouquet made up of a hundred different colours and a white box in the other, arms full and naked, no jacket to hide from the early summer sun. Your eyes widen as he gets to the steps. He looks like he made an effort to see you (and it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t always, you love him as he is, but you can’t help asking yourself why).

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Eddie smiles. “What do you mean?”

“What’s the stuff for?” There’s a bag hanging from his elbow.

“This stuff?” he asks, cresting the last step.

“Hi,” Junie says.

“Hi, babe.”

“Hi.” She reaches for the flowers. “Pretty.”

“You think so? I got them for your mommy but I’m sure she’ll share them with you.”

You’re nonplussed as he moves in to kiss your cheek and skirt around you. “Come on. This stuff’s heavy,” he says, the cellophane crunching against his chest as he squeezes past you into your home.

“Eddie, what is that stuff?”

“You don’t know what day it is today?”

You think about it for a second at least. “No?”

It’s not your birthday, not Junie’s. You and Eddie can’t have made it to your first anniversary already, but perhaps six months? You try to do the maths in your head. Eddie puts the white box on your kitchen table, the bag on Junie’s high chair, and the flowers by the sink.

“You really don’t know, do you?” he asks, some sympathy in play.

“Eddie, we did stretches!” Junie says from your arms.

You offer her to him. He wraps her up and makes it look easy, baby on his hip. Quick kiss pressed to her cheek. “Yeah? Mom’s got you doing yoga again?”

You’re drawn to the box like a magnet.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It’s for you, babe,” he says easily, smiling as Junie tucks a curl behind his ear. “It’s all for you. You can open it.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I am. Open it up.”

You take the box’s lid off, lips parting in surprise. Happy Mother’s Day has been written in white writing against a baby pink cake. It’s simple, without frills, but it’s sweet and it looks soft to the touch.

“Is it today?” you ask.

“Yeah, babe. I can’t believe you didn’t know.” Eddie shifts Junie forward to stop her from tangling his hair. “That’s a lie, I totally can. Quick, come here.”

You slot into his side, expecting the kiss, but not the second one against the apple of your cheek. “Happy Mother’s Day. I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to make sure my mom knew I was thinking about her first.” He taps your noses together before pulling away. “You’re the best mom ever, so. Me and June got you some presents. No biggie.”

“Junie got me this?”

“Who do you think wrote on the cake?”

Eddie pretends to eat Junie’s hand, to her delight. You feel the cardboard of your box between your fingers, no attempt made to hide the achingly huge smile that’s taking shape. “And the bags for me too?” you ask.

Eddie can hear it in your voice. “The bag’s for you too, of course. You're the mother.” He snarfs against Junie’s wrist. “Um-num-num.”

You drag the bag from Junie’s blue and orange high chair across the table to peek inside. It’s a flat, paper bag from a clothing store, so the contents surprise you for being much more than clothes. Your smile gets worse with each item unveiled from its tissue paper depths: a humble box of fancy chocolates, a bag of your favourite chips, a small black box and a pair of pyjamas wrapped together with a ribbon.

You hesitate with the box, hand atop it, head tilting toward your shoulder. Eddie doesn’t notice your hesitation, or at least he’s pretending not to, pretending to nibble Junie’s sleeve where she’s laughing it up in his arms.

“What’s in the box?”

He looks up quickly. Not pretending. “Oh, that’s– If you don’t like it, I can take it back. It’s nothing crazy.”

“You’re proposing.” The box is shaped for a bracelet or necklace rather than a ring.

He nods severely. “Will you do me the honour?”

You laugh softly and line your thumb to the box’s seam. It opens on a tense hinge, clicking into place.

It’s a bracelet made up of silver beads. There’s a small flat-circle charm between the beads, that, upon closer inspection, harbours two hearts, one bigger than the other.

“It’s nothing fancy, okay? So if it breaks you won’t feel bad. It’s real silver though, you don’t have to take it off much if you don’t want to. I don’t know. I think it’s, like, a reminder of her when you’re not together.” Junie whines, encouraging Eddie to press another peck to her cheek as he hugs her tighter, and takes a step closer to you. “If you don’t like it, it’s really fine.”

You slip the bracelet onto your wrist. It goes without saying you’ve never had much jewellery.

Taking his face into your hands is easy. Holding him tenderly is second nature. “Thank you,” you say, eye to eye, willing it to sink in deeply. “I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you, too. And Junie loves you more than anybody. You deserve to know that.”

“I do,” you say, glad when he puckers up for a kiss. You kiss his pouting lips misaligned to nobody’s worry, adding another for thankfulness, and a third just because. He’s smirking before you’ve so much as pulled away.

“And thank you!” you add saccharinely, stroking Junie’s cheek, though the idea that she had anything to do with your gifts is funny. “I wouldn’t get to be a mommy if it wasn’t for you. I love you.”

“Love you,” Junie says distractedly, more interested by the stud earring in Eddie’s lobe.

He gives you both a soft, soft look, startlingly yards away from his previous smirking. “You’re the best girls in the world.”

“You're the best boyfriend.” You curve an arm around him to steal him and press your face into his arm. “I love you,” you say, smushed. “Thank you so much for everything. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he says.

“I really love you.”

“Yeah,” he says, his nose touching your head as he cranes his head down to you. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I love you too. You deserve it, alright?”

Junie pats your head. “Love love love you. Kiss?”

She almost blinds you trying to kiss you in the eye as you turn your face toward her, but it’s nice.

#june baby universe #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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girlokwhatever · 3 days

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PLEASE 🙏 paige x reader where they are in a situationship and reader is jealous

༉‧₊˚.*ೃ༄༊*·˚･ﾟﾟ･｡ that should be me,,

paige bueckers x fem!reader

yeah, you definitely hated her. you didn’t know her, but you fucking hated her.

you sat across the table from paige, secretly stealing glances of her and some other girl you had never met before in your life. you can’t even recall anyone mentioning her before tonight, but apparently she was close enough friends with aubrey to be invited to her birthday dinner.

you didn’t like her at all. her jokes always missed and killed the vibe, she said random out-of-pocket things every five seconds, and she had this insanely high-pitched laugh. or maybe you didn’t like her because of the way she was touching paige’s arm.

either way, she was running your last nerve thin.

you had arrived to the restaurant with paige, your held hands being separated once you walked inside. you and paige had something going on and most of your friends knew, poking fun and teasing you every now and then. you both wanted to take it slow since both of your schedules were busy, but you definitely wouldn’t say either of you were single.

she was your situation.

you wanted to sit next to her at the table but the plans had quickly changed when this girl insisted on sitting there. you had been halfway into the seat when her hand landed firmly on your shoulder, shaking to get your attention.

that was the moment that started it you think. that and the flirtatious touches. you thought it was so obvious what she was trying to do, but apparently paige didn’t pick up any of the cues.

it was embarrassing for you and her. here you were with all your friends on aubrey’s birthday night, watching as another girl practically groped paige six feet into her seat. the worst part was paige never did or said anything along the lines of ‘stop.’

you have the thought that it should definitely be you sitting next to paige right now. it could’ve been you and it should’ve been you. she may not be your girlfriend, but she is your something. you wish you could hold her hand under the table instead of having to watch the insufferable sight of another girl touching her.

“is this your natural hair? it’s really pretty.”

your eye twitched watching the scene unfold, eyes tracking the girl’s finger as it twirled around a strand of paige’s hair.

“nah, not the color. the waves are all mine though,”

paige smiles, flicking her hair over her shoulder. the girl laughs again, the high-pitched squeal ringing in your ear. the crazy thing is, nothing paige said was even funny, the reason for the girl’s laughter had flown straight over your head. if she was close enough, you think you might reach across the table and drag her to the floor.

her peppy laugh. her wandering and lingering gaze. the unnecessary touches. the-

“can i give you my number? i’d really like to hangout sometime y’know?”

you couldn’t even bear to stay for paige’s answer, excusing yourself from the table. your chair squeaked loudly against the floor, grabbing the attention of anyone who hadn’t already noticed you.

the girl turns to paige, wide-eyed, “is she okay?”

your anger boils over at her remark, wishing for both of your sakes she’d just kept quiet. it was infuriating watching her turn to paige and talk about you, right in front of your own face.

“are you serious-”

“i think she just has to use the bathroom,” paige gives you a look, one that you can only decipher as ‘no.’ “and the bathrooms are that way.”

she points you in a direction, one that you allow yourself to blindly follow. you just needed to get away from that table, too irked by that girl to think straight. you kept telling yourself that she couldn’t ruin the night, aubrey’s big night for that matter.

you’re leaning against the bathroom sink when a knock sounds on the door. it makes you jump out of your thoughts, assuming it’s just some random person needing to take a piss.

“i’ll be out in a second!”

“hey, it’s me.” you’d recognize her voice in a crowd of hundreds, something so distinct about it. you can’t deny it makes your heart flutter knowing she chased after in a sense, showing that she does in fact care.

you unlock the door for her, letting her slip through the frame before sealing it off again. she locks it for you, never even taking her eyes off of you.

“what was that?!”

she’s whisper-shouting, getting closer to you. it shocks you, not expecting that reaction from her. you wished maybe she’d acknowledge what was actually happening at that table for the last half-hour, but of course she can’t.

“seriously? are you serious?”

“yeah i’m serious. you looked like you wanted to rip her head off the whole time.”

you roll your eyes, “oh spare me please. she’s insufferable.”

you don’t even care how much attitude you’re using to rebuttal her, more concerned with the fact that she’s defending the girl. did she know what she was doing? was it all on purpose?

“she’s nice,”

“yeah i’m sure she is.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i’m sure it is nice when she touches you like that.”

she blinks. once, twice, three times before speaking. she gets a smug grin on her face like it’s funny or something, watching the way your forehead creases from being downturned so long. she feels bad really, but it’s still amusing to see you like this.

“oh, that’s what this is about.”

“what- i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“you’re jealous.”

her hands find your waist, tugging you into her chest. after rolling your eyes into tomorrow you decide it’s not worth it to fight about it and she’s right anyway. you succumb to her affection, matching it equally when you wrap your arms around her stomach.

“can’t believe you’re jealous. it’s kinda hot.”

“whatever. tell her to stop eye-fucking you in the middle of the restaurant. it’s nasty.”

paige admires your honestly, realizing how strongly you both feel even though it’s nothing more than a situationship. she wants to ask you out but figures a restaurant family bathroom probably isn’t the best place.

“maybe i should be the one jealous. you’ve been so focused on her talking to me you didn’t realize i’ve been looking at you the whole time.”

you’re silent, head resting against her chest to hide embarrassment. the affect she has on you is insane and you both know that, a simple fact paige takes advantage of frequently. she feels your arms tighten around her and in response shifts your hips closer to her own. she never feels like you’re close enough.

she kisses the top of your head as you shift together in unison. she wishes she was brave enough to ask you out. it’s not like you’re going to say no.

as her own version of reassurance, paige pulls you into a kiss and waits until she feels you kissing back. it’s slow and sensual, both of you taking time to relish in the moment, as confusing as it may be. when you pull away, she finds solace in your body, resting her forehead against yours.

“yeah whatever. i’m going back to eat my dinner. but next time she touches you i’m flipping my shit if you don’t say something.”

“what am i supposed to say then, hm?”

“that you have a girlfriend.”

༉‧₊˚.*ೃ༄༊*·˚･ﾟﾟ･｡

here’s this short lil fic because i felt bad for depriving yall 😔

but i love you guys and hope you enjoy 🤭🤭🤭

I HAVE NOT YET SPELL CHECKED!!!

also i’m so sorry for slacking on the requests you guys (this is an older one) i’m gonna try to work on some tomorrow!! (emily content 🤭)

#paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #rea’s moots 😘#paige bueckers imagine #wlw slay #wlw yearning #lesbian #lgbtq #lgbtqia #rea loves em #emily engstler i love you

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 1 day

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Hi!!

Can you do a Sam Winchester begging plus size reader to sit on his face. Whatever vibes you want :) Dommy Sam is always a fav but as long as Sam is reassuring and eating reader out, I’m happy :)

Thank you!!

.⋆｡Peaches and Cream｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

Dean made the mistake of leaving you alone with a very soulless version of your best friend who only wants one thing from you

Warnings: soulless!Sam, smut, friends to lovers?, oral (f receiving), mentions of condoms, praise, body worshipping, overstimulation, dom!Sam, almost getting caught, little bit of self-consciousness WC: 1.8k

Minors DNI

a/n: thank you all for being so patient with me, i promise i only have a couple weeks left of uni and i'm gonna come running back with some new fics!

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

His eyes burned into the back of your skull, as they had been for the past 10 minutes. And yet, you refused to look up from the book in front of you, even though you had not turned a page in that same amount of time. You weren’t a stranger to Sam’s gaze, in fact you used to love it; the way his big puppy dog eyes trailed up your curves whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice never failed to have heat bloom across your cheeks.

But his staring was far different now.

Sam was different now.

You could hear him shift in his seat before the tell-tale sound of his boots against the cheap vinyl as he got closer. You swallowed around the lump in your throat though it did nothing to sooth the fear simmering inside you.

“You’re not reading.” His warm breath tickled your neck. You shivered and squeezed your eyes shut. You knew what he wanted, and so badly did you wish to give it to him, like you always had but it was so wrong. His soul was gone, the very thing that made Sam Sam but it was still his body, his voice so tantalisingly close.

“Yes I am.” You bit back a whimper as Sam leaned in closer, his large hands planting themselves on the table in front of you, keeping you pinned to the spot. The tip of his nose brushed gently along your ear.

“No.” Suddenly the book was ripped from your hands and thrown across the motel room (something your Sam would never do). “You’re not.”

His lips closed around your earlobe. “Sam.” You cursed Dean in your mind, that man and his need for diner pie no matter how far out of his way he had to go to get it. “We can’t.” Fire pooled between your plump thighs, quickly soaking through your panties.

He shifted closer, his strong arms now tightly pressed against you. He released your ear with a soft pop. “Can’t or won’t? Because I think we both know just how badly you want me, sweetheart.” You held your breath as Sam’s hands slowly moved from the table to your wide hips.

“Sam.” You tried again but this time he answered you with a deep growl.

“Say my name like that again and I promise that you won’t be walking straight for a week.” A moan escaped your lips before you could even think of stopping it. You could feel Sam’s plump lips curl into a devious smirk.

“But-“ His grip tightened and all the doubts in your mind vanished.

“But nothing. Dean won’t be back for hours and you need to unwind and I happen to know the perfect way to do that.”

As a last ditch attempt before your mind completely went fuzzy, you blurted out- “We don’t have condoms.”

His chuckle rumbled through your bones, sending a chill of excitement up your spine. “I’m not gonna fuck you, not today at least. I just want a little taste of this nice,” His right hand slid down the pudge of your stomach and wedged itself between your thighs, cupping you over the thick denim of your jeans, “juicy,” He nuzzled his face against your neck, “cunt.”

“Be gentle?” You turned your head, encouraging the larger man to meet your gaze. His eyes shone with his victory.

“You want your Sammy don’t you?” He teased. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll give you exactly what you want.” And then he struck.

His lips moulded perfectly against yours in a kiss long overdue. It was soft, almost sweet but you could feel the way he was holding back, forcing himself to relent to your wishes, even as he cupped your jaw with his other hand, deepening it.

You whimpered against his lips and he reluctantly pulled away. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Sam yanked you from your chair and lifted you into his arms. “Sam!” You tried to protest, but he silenced you with a kiss more determined than before.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth as he strode to his unused bed. Your arms wound around his neck, Sam growling in approval. His knees bumped against the mattress and he fell forwards, catching himself with his right hand before he could crush you. Your pussy squeezed around nothing at the raw strength of the hunter you’d been pining for.

You grabbed at the front of his flannel as he tugged on the hem of your jeans. Your teeth clacked together and the sound of ripping fabric filled the room. “Eager girl.” Sam groaned against your lips as you still held onto the now destroyed shirt in your grip.

Your jeans button popped open. “Please Sam.” His long fingers grazed the wet spot on your panties and your hips bucked up, encouraging his touch to go just a little further down. He chuckled cruelly but yet he obeyed. The calloused tips of his fingers pressed into your throbbing clit, making your jaw drop with a silent moan.

He nipped at the frantic pulse along your throat, unbothered by the deep welts he was leaving behind. Your heart skipped a beat as you laid your palms onto his naked chest. “Sam.” His name was barely even a breath.

“Good girl.” Your ruined panties were pushed to the side as his middle finger traced up your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could. “So wet for me. You’ve been waiting so long haven’t you.” He cooed.

You tried to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge, content in teasing you. “Shhh let me play a little longer and then I’ll give you what you want.” His slender hips rolled against your thigh, letting you feel the monstrous bulge of his cock where it was straining against his own jeans.

You squirmed as he finally pressed his thick fingers to your clit, just barely dousing the fire between your legs. “Please.” Your eyes burned with tears of desperation. You needed him like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

Sam tsked and in response, pulled his fingers away. You nearly cried as your relief was ripped away from you. “Now, while I do love your begging, we’re doing this my way. You need to learn.”

He leaned back onto his heels, his ripped shirt perfectly framing his toned stomach and chest. You couldn’t look away from him, never could you have even dreamed that your best friend was this good-looking. “Jeans. Off.”

Your hands flew down to your hips, eager to obey. Sam smirked and pulled off the tattered flannel, his eyes remained on you though, burning with lust. Your hands shook as you finally got your pants off. Your panties quickly followed after.

“What a good little slut, listening so prettily. You just want your Sammy to take care of you don’t you.” You nodded desperately.

“Please, wanna be good.”

He grabbed your wide hips and rolled onto his back, dragging you up the length of his torso until you were straddling his wide shoulders. “Then be good for me and sit on my face.”

“But-“ He shot you a lot from between your legs and dragged you up further so you had no choice but to plant your knees on the mattress next to his head. You caught yourself on the wall behind the headboard as you tried to rock forwards and pull yourself up.

“Do this for me, sweetheart. Lemme drown in that pussy.” His teeth sunk into the soft fat of your inner thigh.

“But Sam, I-I don’t want to hurt you. ‘M not exactly small.”

“Sit. I won’t repeat myself again.” Your knees wobbled but you remained upright, determined to not harm the man beneath you. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His arms wound around your legs and forced you down onto his mouth. “Perfect.” He grumbled into your cunt.

“Sam!” But before you had the chance to even think of prying yourself from him, Sam’s lips sealed around your clit and it took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to court around his head and keep him right there, suckling at you, forever.

Your moans echoed through the cheap motel room, bouncing off the peeling wallpaper and soaking into the old carpeting. You couldn’t help but grind down onto his face, chasing the pleasure he had already denied you once before. Sam groaned in approval from between your legs. His tongue lapped at you, moving with a precision that had you asking yourself why you hadn't relented sooner.

“Are-are you spelling something?” He just winked at you and ducked his head down once more. Your eyebrows scrunched as you tried to concentrate on the fluid movement of his tongue against you though the blinding pleasure made it difficult.

S-A-M-U-E-L He took a breath. W-I-N-C-H-E-S-T-E-R

He was branding you, and that thought sent you catapulting to the precipice of your end. “Sam, Sam please. ‘M so close, please, please.” His right hand released your thigh and quickly slipped underneath his chin, letting his thick fingers finally breach your needy cunt. The knot in your stomach wound impossibly tighter and then just as he crooked his fingers, hitting the delicate bundle of nerves within you, Sam spelled one more word.

M-I-N-E

“Fuck fuck fuck!” You thrashed on top of him, wave after wave of euphoria washing over you, drowning you in it as Sam’s unrelenting ministrations pushed you right into another orgasm just as the first was dying down.

Your hands flew to his silky hair and tried to pry him off of you but he kept going, seemingly determined to make you pass out from the pleasure. “Too much.” Your whole body shook as your nerves lit up like fireworks.

“Oh god-“ Suddenly, the tell-tale rumble of the Impala had both you and the man you were straddling freeze. The car door squeaked and you both looked at each other.

Sam grabbed your hips and rolled you onto your back before ripping his half-naked body from yours. You threw the covers over yourself and shut your eyes, praying that your heavy breathing wouldn’t be noticed by the other hunter.

Just as Dean’s footsteps reached the motel room door, Sam had tugged on a new (non-ripped) flannel from his bag. Your eyes slammed shut as the door creaked open and Dean slipped inside.

There was a beat of silence. “She sleeping?” You breathed out a sigh of relief, you couldn’t imagine what he would’ve thought if he realised what was happening between his soulless little brother and you barely moments before.

“Yeah.” Sam responded in a clipped tone, a now regular occurrence with his brother. Dean hummed and you heard the sound of a plastic bag being placed on the kitchen counter.

“I got some food for us. You want any?” You could’ve melted from the genuine concern in his voice but as Sam answered, your stomach churred with embarrassment.

“I already ate.” He smirked as he wiped away the last remnants of your cum from his lips with his thumb.

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moonstruckme · 2 days

Note

babe you’ve got me obsessed with doctor remus!

can i request a drabble where reader gets into like a car accident and has been taken into a&e with like mid/severe injuries and remus has been assigned to treat her?

if not then that’s fine! love your work bae 🎀

Hi gorgeous! Thank you for requesting (I'm obsessed with him too) :)

cw: hospital

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 716 words

The nurse leaves, and you think you might finally get more than five seconds to yourself but then the curtain pulls back again, a tall doctor taking her place. You’ve been able to feel your heartbeat pulsing through every inch of you since you’d stumbled out of your smoking car, and this new man doesn’t help matters.

He’s lovely. With a face smattered with warm freckles and silvery scars and a mop of brown hair that looks like it’s never once been brushed, this is the kind of person who would fluster you on a normal day. Now, you don’t even know the word to describe the effect he has on you.

He has to ask his question a second time before you hear it.

“Have you had allergic reactions to any medications?”

You blink. It still feels like reality is moving at twice its usual speed. You don’t know if it’s just you shaking, but it feels like the whole room. “Uh, no. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” The doctor’s voice is businesslike but kind, with a Welsh lilt. He flips a page on his clipboard. “Anything we weren’t able to address in the ambulance? Any new aches and pains?”

“I—I don’t think so.”

He lowers the clipboard slightly, looking at you. His eyes are a lightish brown color, like honey left too long in the sun. “Has anyone talked you through grounding exercises?”

You feel your brow wrinkle. “What?”

He almost smiles. “I’ll take that for a no.” He sets down his clipboard on the edge of your bed, pulling up a rolling chair and sitting down in front of you. “I’m going to have you breathe with me for a minute, alright, sweetheart?”

It’s not in your nature to contradict professionals, but you feel your head shaking as if from somewhere outside of yourself. “Why?” you ask. “Aren’t there more important things?”

“There are still things left to do,” he allows, seeming unaffected by your questioning, “but you’re stable. It’s nothing that can’t wait for a few minutes, and it’s important that you’re calm so you can think properly.” He takes your hands in his, ignoring the odd padding of the splint around your broken wrist and holding your fingertips instead. “All I need from you is for you to copy my breathing. Can you do that for me?”

You nod. As he starts to talk you through it, your eyes begin to sting, an effect of his gentle tone or the respite your body has been craving or both. Your doctor’s expression doesn’t change when he sees the silver lining your eyes, but he gives your fingertips a light squeeze.

“Okay, in for eight this time,” he says in that lulling voice. “Good job, just keep at it.”

You manage to breathe in for long enough to satisfy him, and after the exhale he drops your hands.

“Well done,” he murmurs, mindful of the small cuts on your face as he thumbs away your tears. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. The word comes out like a sigh, and his lip curves softly at the plain relief in the sound.

“Happy to hear it. You were right earlier, there’s still plenty left to do,” he says, expression sombering somewhat as he looks at you intently, “but if you ever need a break, you tell me or someone else, okay? I don’t want you suffering in silence.”

“Okay.” You wet your lips, feeling much more solid than you had a few minutes before. The world has slowed to its regular speed. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.”

He smiles, which is altogether too charming for a place like this. It makes the long scar going across his cheek crinkle slightly and you could swear his eyes lighten a shade. “Well, see, that’s how I know you weren’t really with me when you came in, because we’ve already been introduced.” His expression lets you know he hasn’t taken any offense, but your face still heats at your impoliteness. “It’s Doctor Lupin, but you can call me Remus.”

Something in you rings at this new knowledge, like a tuning fork has been struck. Remus, your consciousness echoes quietly.

His smile softens. “We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other today.”

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ithebookhoarder · 1 day

Note

Hello hi ! 🤗

Can you do a "bau reacts" when they are undercover in public and about to be found out so the reader just starts making out with them to pretend they are just a couple?

(BAU Headcanons) Making out Undercover

A/N: Mwahaha. Oh, this is a good prompt. Thanks for making me daydream all afternoon. Enjoy my lovelies 😉 Also, as a note, I'm writing the main BAU where I'm at watching it (season 13) plus Luke as he was requested previously 💕

Warnings: Mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, alcohol references, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

We know Aaron doesn’t go undercover for most cases, so this would have to be a big case to get him into the field.

This man would be in shock. Let’s be real. He would freeze in place and try to argue for a split second until he realises what you’re trying to do and why - even if you were already together.

As soon as they’re gone though, you’d glance up and see his usual steely glare that tells you you’re in for a scolding once this is over.

However, you’d have to be blind to miss the way he lingers for a moment, holding you close for half a second longer than necessary.

“I feel I should remind you that we are in the field, and whilst it may have worked, I can’t endorse it as a tactic in future. Understood?”

“So I’m hearing that we’re leaving this off of our case report then?”

“Agreed. I don’t need to give Strauss anything else to use to go after us and the team.”

He would roll his eyes and take off after the Unsub, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he smirks as he goes.

David Rossi

He’d be a little embarrassed but mostly quite smug about the whole thing, even if you were supposed to be undercover.

“Well, I can safely say in all my years in this field I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.”

He’d also refuse to let you apologise for your actions afterwards either.

One, because he’s kind of flattered.

Two, because he’s been around the block a few times and knows that sometimes you have to do what it takes to solve a case or protect yourselves.

Three, you were supposed to be a couple and kissing is what couples do. He’s only sour because if anything he would have liked to be the one who kissed you.

“Relax about it, would you? I won’t tell you some of the things Gideon and I had to do back in the old days. That was before all this new paperwork and guidelines, so that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

You make a point of remembering to ask him about that at your next night off over drinks.

Derek Morgan

Derek is always up for anything so I feel like he’d be pretty relaxed about being undercover with you, even if you weren't together romantically. He has no issue playing your pretend boyfriend for one night, and is quick to wrap his arm around you.

Which is why it would be such a surprise to him when it’s you who initiated the kiss.

Derek would freeze for like a second, but only out of shock. However, you know he wouldn’t fight you on it.

The second his brain catches up to his body he would be kissing you back, doing everything in his power to match your energy and sell this kiss.

If anything, you’re going to have to be the one to break away once the coast is clear and remind him you’re still technically in the field and that your team is probably wondering where the hell you are right now - and why you stopped responding to your comms.

“I’m just saying, if we get to do that then we need to be partnered up more often.”

“Yeah yeah, Morgan. Let’s just hope Penelope didn’t see that else we’ll never be hearing the end of it.”

Emily Prentiss

She’s been undercover plenty of times in her life and spent a whole chunk of time actually fake-married to Doyle for an op, so she’d be the most comfortable and understanding if you grabbed her for a kiss - especially if you were meant to be a fake couple.

She’d work it out pretty quickly and would respond in kind, pressing herself against you and running her hands all over you.

“Quick thinking with the kiss,” she’d whisper as she brushed a kiss against your neck.

She’d also know exactly where the Unsub is afterwards too, having kept watch in her peripheral vision.

She wouldn’t even have to break eye contact with you before she informed you, “3 o’clock. He just left out the fire exit.”

With that, she’d be off.

She also probably wouldn’t even bring it up again until you’re both back on the jet. Then she’d be smirking at you across the top of her drink and chuckling to herself.

“Normally I’d insist dinner first but given that we caught that bastard I think we’re even.”

JJ knows about going undercover and it takes a lot to rattle her. She would probably go along with the action, even if she’d stay kind of stiff for a good minute or so.

However, she’s a good agent and knows about maintaining a cover so quickly catches on when you pull her in.

She’d return the kiss, shooting glances out the corner of her eye when she thinks it might be safe to check on their target. If it doesn’t look like they’re buying it, she’ll turn things up a notch and spin you around so that she could take control.

“My gun is under my jacket. Reach for it slowly if he comes any closer,” she’d warn, but thankfully you don’t need it. Eventually they leave, distracted by something else, leaving you and JJ to recover.

After catching your breath, you both take off in the direction your target just left in. You can tell JJ is trying not to laugh about what just happened, choosing to make it funny rather than uncomfortable if you weren't together romantically.

Which means you know she’d enjoy teasing you about it in front of the others, making your cheeks burn as she announces on the jet: “For the record, even though it was a ‘cover kiss’ it was pretty good. Just saying. Maybe you should give Morgan some tips. That way he might get a girl to call him back after a first date.”

Luke Alvez

It doesn’t matter if he’s ex-army or whatever. Undercover is not really Luke’s thing and even then, he is more used to infiltrating gangs than playing house.

Basically, he would be surprised by your actions, despite being undercover together. Like, I can see his eyebrows hitting his hairline so fast, bless him. He’d look like a deer in headlights.

“Woah, sweetheart, slow your roll-“

“- Luke. Shut up and kiss me. Now.”

“I - ok.”

Just like that, he’d take control, turning and pressing you against the nearest wall in an attempt to shield you from whoever was watching. He’d also be such a gentleman about it if you weren't already together romantically, keeping his hands on your waist and pulling away the minute he’s sure the danger has passed.

Even then, he’d wait a minute before letting the two of you move from your position, just in case they come back. He’s your partner and he’s returning the favour for you keeping him safe, even if in an unsuspected manner.

“You good?”

“Luke. Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I was the one who planted myself on you.”

“Potato, po-tah-to. Are they still over there?”

“No. They just left out the back.”

“Then let’s go, partner. Let’s catch this freak.”

Penelope Garcia

If Penelope is in the field then you know she is already hella nervous and out of her element. It doesn’t matter if there was a reason she was needed for this particular assignment, she would just take that as added pressure not to let everyone down.

Which is why I’m sure you’d feel worse about planting one on her - even if it does also help distract her from worrying for a minute.

All I can imagine is her giving her trademark squeal of confusion and surprise, even if you gave her a hasty warning - and apology - about what you were going to do.

She’d be stunned at what was happening and probably takes a minute to realise she should probably try and kiss you back, or at least look less visibly startled about it.

“I feel I should point out how unfair it is that this is permitted as ‘suitable workplace behaviour’ as we’re undercover, yet my flirtatious texts with Agent Morgan are not? I will be writing a strongly worded email when we get back, telling HR they can go shove their-”

“Pen? Hey, focus here. Unsub still watching us.”

“Oh, right. Sorry! Ahem… as you were?”

Also, you know that like a day or so later, once it’s all over, she sends you an email informing you that your new username on the BAU system is now ‘smoochykins’ and she will not change it until it becomes not-funny for her… which will probably be never. After all, Morgan has been ‘Chocolate Thunder’ for the last two years and is still going strong.

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer has been undercover before and is usually quite calm about it, even if it is faking a date or maintaining a story. Still, despite having to do your jobs, you’d hate to make him uncomfortable, knowing how he feels about any kind of physical contact - especially if you're not together.

As he says, with the amount of bacteria shared by shaking hands you’d be safer kissing … guess it was time to take it literally.

He’d be blushing like a tomato as you grab his jacket lapels and pull him close. And honestly? it’s kind of adorable. As is the way he tries to kiss you back, even if he still takes a minute to remember how to even move his body.

I’m just picturing the Lila kiss in season one and how he eased into that and how stunned / embarrassed he seemed afterwards. He would pretty much be like that, but with a fake smile on his face as he rambled in your ear.

“What was that?”

“I was covering our asses. We’re undercover, remember? We’re supposed to be a couple and couples kiss. Also, I’d thought you know, genius, that kissing and displays of public affection make people extremely uncomfortable.”

“No kidding… Morgan can never find out about this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. You got a deal, pretty boy. This is between us.”

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wosomaanum · 3 days

Text

Just In Time | Frida Maanum

Summary: You and Frida decide to go to a party where not everything goes to plan

Warnings: creepy people, homophobia, alcohol, party things yk

You and Frida are getting ready in your shared apartment, the scent of her favorite vanilla body spray mingling with the faint sound of indie music playing in the background. Frida stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her earrings, while you fuss with the shirt. She catches your eye in the reflection, offering a reassuring smile.

"Ready to go?" she asks, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Yeah, let's do this," you reply, taking her hand as you head out the door.

The walk to the party is filled with light conversation and laughter, Frida's presence always a source of comfort and joy. When you arrive, the house is already buzzing with energy, music pumping through the walls, and groups of people scattered around, talking and dancing.

“Wow, it’s crowded in here.” You state, a hint of uncertainty present in your voice.

“It is. Just stay close yeah?” Frida replies, her thick Norwegian accent peaking through.

“Don’t worry, nothings going to happen.” You reply, you weren’t sure if you were trying to reassure Frida or yourself.

“Darling, I know you can handle yourself. I’d much rather be safe than sorry. Just let me know roughly where you’re gonna go and remember: you have a phone for a reason.” She stays, matter of factly.

“Right. I’m just gonna go to the toilet then alright? Love you.” You kiss Frida on the cheek offering her a smile to what she exchanges cutely.

On your way to the bathroom, you decide to take a look in the kitchen to scout out the drinks. You were by no means a drinker but you knew Frida was the designated driver. Which meant two things:

1. You could get tipsy

2. You could only get tipsy. Not flat out drunk. Or Frida would be on your back.

The kitchen is packed, but you manage to find a spot near the counter. As you pour yourself a drink (okay, just a quick one), a guy you don’t recognise sidles up next to you. He's taller than you, with an overly confident smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey there," he says, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. "I haven't seen you around here before. Can I get you another drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm good," you reply, trying to keep your tone polite but firm. You were already feeling tipsy by now as you had spontaneously chugged down two solo cups worth. You knew Frida would be scolding you later - but that didn’t matter right now.

He doesn't take the hint, instead stepping even closer. "Come on, just one drink. What's the harm?"

You glance around, hoping to spot Frida, but she's still across the room, chatting with some friends. "I said no, thanks," you repeat, more forcefully this time.

The guy's smirk fades slightly, but he doesn't back off. "Don't be like that. I'm just trying to be friendly."

You try to step away, but he blocks your path, his presence becoming more oppressive. "Seriously, I don't want a drink," you say, louder this time, hoping someone nearby will notice.

His eyes narrow slightly, and he leans in even closer, his breath hot on your ear. "Why are you being such a prude? I'm just being nice."

Panic starts to bubble up inside you, your heart racing as you try to push him away. "Leave me alone," you demand, your voice trembling.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Relax, I'm not going to bite. Just trying to have a conversation. What's your name?"

You take a step back, trying to put some distance between you. "It's none of your business," you snap, hoping to sound more confident than you feel.

He rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. "No need to be so rude. I'm just asking a simple question."

"Look, I'm here with someone," you say, trying a different tactic. "I'm not interested."

"Oh, come on," he says, his tone turning condescending. "Whoever it is, they can't be that great if they left you alone. Just one drink, and if you still want me to leave, I will."

You shake your head, backing up further. "I already told you, I'm not interested. Please, just leave me alone. And don’t insult my girlfriend.”

His expression darkens, and he steps forward again, ignoring your plea. "You know, you're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."

"I don't care," you snap, louder this time, hoping the raised volume will attract someone's attention. "I said no. Now back off."

He laughs, a harsh, mocking sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Feisty, I like that. Come on, just one drink. It's not going to kill you."

Desperation starts to creep in as you look around the room, searching for a familiar face. "I'm not interested," you repeat, your voice shaking with anger and fear. "Why can't you just take no for an answer?"

"Because I'm not used to hearing it," he replies smugly. "You're not going to find anyone better than me here, so why not just give it a shot?"

You glance around again, feeling trapped. "Look, you're making me really uncomfortable. Please, just go away."

"Uncomfortable?" he scoffs. "I'm just talking to you. You don't have to be so dramatic."

"I'm not interested because I'm here with my girlfriend," you say, hoping that will make him back off.

His expression changes, a sneer spreading across his face. "Oh, so you're one of those. That explains a lot."

"Did I not already tell you that? And, What do you mean by that?" you ask, feeling a surge of anger mix with your fear.

"Just that it makes sense why you're so uptight," he says, leaning in closer again. "Trying to play the victim, huh? You think you're too good for a guy like me because you like girls?"

"That's none of your business," you say firmly, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just leave me alone."

"Come on, don't be like that," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "Maybe you just haven't been with the right guy yet."

"Back off," you say, louder now, hoping someone will notice and intervene.

"What's going on here?" Frida's voice cuts through the tension, her tone calm but authoritative. She walks up, her eyes immediately assessing the situation. Sliding her arm around your waist, she fixes the guy with a steady gaze. "Is there a problem?"

The guy looks between the two of you, clearly irritated. "We were just talking," he says, attempting to brush off the situation.

Frida tightens her hold on you, her eyes not leaving his. "It didn't look like she wanted to talk," she says calmly but firmly. "She told you to leave her alone."

"Mind your own business," he snaps, his bravado faltering slightly under Frida's intense gaze.

Frida maintains her calm demeanor, her voice unwavering. "She is my business. If she asked you to leave her alone, you should respect that."

He hesitates, clearly not used to being challenged. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything. Just having a conversation," he says, his tone trying to sound reasonable but failing.

Frida's expression softens slightly as she addresses him again. "Look, she clearly doesn't want to continue this conversation. Let's all just move on and enjoy the party, okay?"

"Whatever," he mutters, but he doesn't move.

Frida remains calm, her grip on you firm but gentle. "Did you not hear her? She's not interested. Leave us alone."

The guy's face flushes with anger and embarrassment. "I just don't get you people," he says, his voice rising. "Always playing the victim card. Maybe if you weren't such prudes, you'd see how stupid this all is."

"Excuse me?" Frida's voice remains calm, but there's an edge to it now. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," he snaps, his bravado returning. "You lesbians always think everyone's out to get you. Maybe if you tried being normal for once, you wouldn't have these problems."

Frida takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. "We're not the problem here. You are. We're here to have a good time, just like everyone else. If you can't handle that, maybe you should leave."

"Oh, I'm the problem now?" he scoffs. "You two are just asking for trouble, flaunting your lifestyle in everyone's faces."

"Enough," Frida says, her voice firm but controlled. "This conversation is over. Leave us alone."

He glares at both of you, clearly frustrated. "Fine, whatever. You're not worth the trouble." He turns and stalks off into the crowd, disappearing from view.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and turn to Frida, who is watching you with concern.

"You okay?" she asks, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Yeah, thanks. He just wouldn't take a hint," you reply, leaning into her touch.

"I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to deal with that and I’m sorry I didn’t get to you quicker. Let's get out of here," Frida suggests softly. "This place is too crowded anyway and you need to get home before it’s dark."

You nod, grateful for her suggestion. She keeps an arm around you as you both navigate through the throng of people and out into the cooler night air. The drive home is quieter, but Frida's presence beside you is as comforting as ever.

When you reach your apartment, she unlocks the door and lets you in first, her protective instincts still in high gear. Inside, you kick off your shoes and collapse onto the couch, feeling the tension of the evening finally start to fade.

Frida sits next to you, her hand resting on your knee. "You sure you're okay?" she asks again, her eyes searching yours.

"I'm fine now," you assure her, taking her hand in yours. "Thanks for stepping in. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't."

"Anytime," she says with a soft smile. "You know I've got your back."

You lean against her, feeling safe and loved. The party might not have been what you expected, but having Frida by your side makes everything better.

“I can’t believe he said all that. I know I was tipsy but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out his intentions, in fact I think the ‘prude’ may have done it.”

“It’s best not to think about it hey. He was a total dickhead but I’m just glad your safe that’s the most important thing. Let’s just calm down now and we can talk more in the morning if need be. I’m here for you, you know that.”

The rest of the evening is spent in the comfort of your apartment, wrapped up in each other. Frida makes sure you're okay, periodically checking in with gentle touches and reassuring words. She walks you through your feelings, letting you vent about the guy and how he made you feel, always listening intently.

As the night grows later, she suggests you both watch a movie to distract from the earlier ordeal. You agree, and soon you're cuddled up on the couch, the soft glow of the TV casting a warm light over the room. Frida holds you close, her arms wrapped around you.

————-

You wake up the next morning encased by Frida’s strong arms. You both stir awake.

“You know, now that you are feeling better, I think we better discuss you downing two vodkas eh?”

#arsenal women #arsenal #football #lesbian #love #frida maanum x reader #frida maanum #arsenal women x reader #woso x reader #woso #norway

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hqbaby · 1 day

Text

seven — i have a secret

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2k content. profanity, FEELINGS FEELINGS FEELINGS

You met Satoru by chance. Or at least that was what you thought until he confessed three months into your relationship that he’d devised the whole thing.

“You’re not serious,” you said, gaping at your boyfriend. “You couldn’t have planned that.”

The two of you were sitting in his car, seats reclined backwards as you shared a bag of fries and passed a milkshake between one another. The speakers were blaring a hodgepodge playlist the two of you had made, one you’d both added all your favorite songs to with no rhyme or reason that resulted in an eccentric mix of ‘90s rock, rap, and—courtesy of Satoru—Britney Spears’ entire discography.

Things were so much simpler then. Better.

“I planned it all!” he told you, laughing as you continued to stare at him in bewilderment. “I had a massive crush on you, what else was I supposed to do?”

“I dunno,” you gestured frantically, “maybe talk to me like a normal person?”

He snorted. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“You wouldn’t have given me the time of day!”

You gasped in faux shock. “I totally would’ve!”

He pointed the fry he was holding at you in wild accusation. “You turned down everyone who asked you out,” he said, all matter-of-factly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, princess.”

You shook your head, grinning now as your boyfriend stuffed a handful of fries in his mouth. He’s such a boy, you thought.

“Let me get this straight,” you said as you sat up, placing your hands on your lap. “You took a class that isn’t even in your curriculum, purposely bumped into me after a game, proceeded to tutor me for a whole month just to ask me out?”

He shrugged, beaming proudly at his apparent job well-done. “What can I say? I’m a mastermind.”

You tossed a fry at him as you laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I believe ‘amazing’ is the right term,” he said, sitting up now too. He leaned in towards you and brushed a strand of hair from your eye. Quietly, he added, “And you were totally worth it.”

His lips met yours and you swore that if you died right then and there, you’d have died happy.

What a shame it all had to end.

Your neighborhood is safe. Well, that’s what you tell yourself when you go rogue—against all of Maki and Nobara’s insistence and all your empty promises—and decide to go on a run in the dead of night.

You don’t usually take this kind of risk, resorting to early morning jogs before class or training, but you couldn’t sleep anyway and the tournament is coming up soon. You’ve never been one to half-ass anything, so you have no intentions of half-assing this. Safety be damned. You’ll run if you want to run.

The streets are still as you make your way around the block. You circle the park, the cluster of houses, the apartment buildings. There’s a convenience store that’s still open—you wonder what it’s like to work there, to tend to an empty shop. Maybe it isn’t so bad a life. Maybe you wouldn’t mind winding down in your old age and owning a 24/7 convenience store. Maybe you’ll have grandchildren by then, but that would require children and you don’t necessarily want to think about that just yet.

You distract yourself with the different sights, the mindless thoughts, the grocery list of things you need to buy the next day—anything to not think about the fact that you’re absolutely exhausted and could pass out at any point in your run.

You haven’t slept much since that brief reprieve afforded by Sukuna’s company a few days ago. You’ve gone to classes, dutifully attended meetings for your organizations, religiously beat your body into perfection in training. At this point, you’re just running on auto-pilot.

You wonder when this will ever end.

You circle back to the convenience store and your foot—so tired, so susceptible to minor inconveniences now—catches on a stone on the ground. At least you have enough foresight to land your ass.

It’s then that everything crashes down on you. You can do nothing now but sit on the ground and wearily massage your legs as you wait for the last bit of strength to return to you, just enough to make you get up and walk home. You just sit there, on the pavement of a dark street, fully aware that it’s probably not a good idea but also fully aware that you don’t have it in yourself to care.

You pull your phone out of your pocket. There’s a text from Maki asking if you placed the orders for the shirts you’re selling at the children’s rights fundraiser. Right. You forgot to do that. There’s a text from Kento asking if you have notes from that one class the two of you share. An email from Yuki with the details of the tournament. A meme from Sukuna, an image of a clown with the accompanying message “u.”

Then there’s the text you’ve been avoiding.

satoru <3 : can we talk sometime?

You should really change his contact name.

And it’s like the universe hears you. You don’t know if you’ve ever fully bought into the whole “the universe is listening” thing, but you might just become a full-fledged believer, because as soon as you look up from your phone, you find a figure walking through the shadows towards you.

A random straggler maybe? A murder with an axe? One of those zombies that keep chasing you in your dreams?

You know who it is as soon as the first bit of light from the dying street lamp hits his hair.

Satoru.

He’s walking with his hands in his pockets, head hung low like he’s tired or thinking or both. It takes him a while to even register your presence. It’s only after you put your phone away that he looks up, alerted by the slight movement.

His eyes meet yours. Blue piercing straight into you, like he can see your thoughts. Like he can read your mind. You always suspected he could.

“Hi,” he says.

He’s standing a few feet away from you, close enough to take in your weakened form but far enough to run away if you decide to lunge forward and strangle him for whatever reason.

You lift your hand, a tiny wave. “Hey.”

His eyes scan your body, already checking to see what’s happened. He notices your legs spread out on the pavement, the bags under your eyes. You look okay, though, he thinks. Not in any immediate distress.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. His voice is unsure, afraid of entering the realm of familiarity, uncertain if you want him there.

You shrug, “Oh, you know. Just seeing the sights.”

He nods. “Right.”

“You wanna sit with me?”

The question isn’t so much said as it just flies out of you. A natural thing, to pose this question. Akin to asking about the weather, akin to how you used to tell him you loved him. Exactly what was expected, exactly what it should have been.

His answer is just as expected too. “Sure.”

Satoru steps closer and crouches down to sit in front of you. He sits cross-legged, placing his hands on his knees as he looks around hesitantly.

“It’s really late,” he says.

“I know.”

“It gets dodgy here at night.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t be out by yourself.”

You crack a smile at that. “I’m not alone now, am I?”

Satoru looks at you incredulously before smiling too. “Maki is so gonna kill you if she hears about this.”

“Then don’t fucking snitch,” you warn him. Your words are harsh, but your tone is light. Easy. “I’m already in hot water with her.”

“What did you do?” he asks. He relaxes a little, placing his hands behind him and leaning back. “Did you lose her sweater again?”

You roll your eyes. “That was one time.”

“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head. “I remember at least four times you came to me all panicked because you didn’t know where it was.”

“To be fair, half of those times I was just looking for an excuse to talk to you.”

He raises a brow. “You’re kidding.”

“Not,” you tell him. “You’re not the only one who made shit up to talk to their crush.”

The two of you laugh, remembering that horrifying period of time before you got together and routinely embarrassed yourselves for one another.

You know this whole thing, laughing on the street with the boy you broke up with less than a month ago, should feel wrong, at the very least awkward. But it doesn’t. When you look at Satoru, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, you can’t help but remember just how much he meant to you. Maybe just how much he’ll always mean to you.

Satoru shuffles closer and says in a low conspiratorial tone, “I have a secret.”

You pretend to look around, check to see if anyone is listening. Then, you ask him, “What?”

He moves closer until his face is just inches away from yours. And he says the words you already knew he was going to say.

“I miss you.”

You let out a breath.

“I miss you too.”

You both lean forward, close enough to feel his breath on your lips, but not enough to touch his. His hand reaches for yours and squeezes it, holds it to his chest. There’s comfort to his touch, a familiar warmth. One that you’ve loved for a while now.

“‘Toru,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding through your chest. You suspect that you can hear his.

“We can’t do this.”

His eyes flicker to your lips. You can almost read his mind. Why can’t we?

But he pulls back and so do you. He lets go of your hand, nodding as he takes his warmth away with him. There’s disappointment in his expression, but also a deep understanding. A deep knowledge that this isn’t right. You can’t do this.

You wring your hands and turn your gaze to a receipt on the ground. It lists a very specific assortment of things: a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of water, some lube, and a teddy bear. It must be Valentine’s Day somewhere.

“You’re good, right?” you find yourself asking. “With… Kimi.”

Satoru hums. He’s avoiding your eyes too, lost his footing in this whole interaction just like you. “Yeah, we’re good,” he says, words leaving a pit in your stomach that you try to ignore. “And you’re good with him?”

There’s a venom in the way he says the last word. As if he means to say, you’re good with him—him of all people. The scourge of the earth, that’s probably all Satoru can think about when he even considers the idea of Sukuna.

You nod. “We’re good too.”

Satoru’s eyes search yours and you do your best to hide the fact that you’re lying. You already know what he wants to see. He wants to see that you’re miserable without him.

That you made a mistake.

He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, so he just clears his throat, looks away, and says, “Good.”

You pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around them. Suddenly, this whole thing feels like the kind of wrong it always was.

“You should go,” you say.

Satoru shakes his head, standing up and dragging you up with him. “I’m taking you home.”

“Satoru, it’s fine—”

But he won’t hear it. He’s already holding your hand and pulling you in the direction of your apartment building. As much as you want to, you don’t necessarily have the strength to argue with him, so you let him lead the way, one painful step after another.

When you get to the front of the building, Satoru drops your hand and motions for you to head inside. “Get some sleep.”

You turn to the door, then you hesitate, looking back at him. “Satoru.”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, like he’s worried it might scare you away.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

His eyes widen just a bit as he tilts his head. “For what?”

You swallow. “For everything.”

You don’t expect him to smile, but he does. It’s all gentle and sweet. It’s exactly the way he’s always looked at you. The way he probably always will.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, princess,” he says. “It’s just the way things are.”

notes. if there’s one thing i know about me when i’m writing my love triangle fics, it’s that i refuse to let either side go down without a fight 😌

ALSO FINAL REMINDER THAT THIS SERIES HAS SMUT, so minors sincerely fuck off please, i'm not responsible for what you consume online.

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader

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zepskies · 2 days

Text

A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk.

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor.

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.”

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely.

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad.

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gathered your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

“Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but I'm already sketching out my outline for the little series that will continue this one-shot, tentatively titled "Every Second Counts."

Stay tuned! 😘

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell S. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007

@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

#A Line and a Half #russell shaw #tracker #russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x you #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw fanfic #dory shaw #colter shaw #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw series #tracker series #zepskies writes

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tsunami-of-tears · 2 days

Text

Someplace better

Azriel x Reader

A/N: This is dark. There are no happy endings. Please read the warnings.

Wordcount: <1K

Warnings: angst doesn’t even cut it; emotionally abusive family dynamic; suicide; it does not end well, you’ve been warned.

My mother is a horrible wench.

We just had yet another fight that ended in screaming and tears and slammed doors.

I thought our relationship was getting better. I was trying to open up about the struggles I’ve been having, only to have them all thrown back in my face.

“Before you point the finger at everyone else, maybe you need to consider that you’re the problem,” she sneers.

I’d been trying to tell her how overwhelmed I felt, that I felt stuck and couldn’t see a way out. I can feel myself starting to crack under the pressure, pieces of me splintering as I try to be everything for everyone.

No matter how hard I try, it’s not enough. There’s always something I’m not doing, something not done right.

‘You’re a failure and a burden,’ that little voice says, harmonising with my mother’s insults.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself,” she says dismissively.

So much for motherly love…

————

Later that evening, I’m heading to the River House for a family dinner. These events have become less frequent with everyone’s busy schedules, and I’m looking forward to seeing my friends.

Rhysand greets me at the door, pulling me into a hug. “Y/N, it’s been too long,” he smiles down at me warmly. “Everyone else is here already, come in.”

“It’s good to see you, I’ve missed everyone,” I give Rhys a tight smile in return.

Time appears to stop as we walk down the hallway. The awkwardness drags on for what feels like forever. My thoughts race with things I could say, but my tongue cannot form the words. Rhys notices my silence, furrowing his brows at me. I plaster a huge smile on my face, attempting to conceal my inner turmoil. I can’t tell if Rhys picks up on my forgery.

We enter the living room which is alive with chatter between my friends.

Mor, Feyre and Cassian are laughing together, likely about something Cassian said.

Amren and Nesta are engaged in a heated discussion.

And then Azriel… He’s with Elain, talking softly together about gods knows what. My heart starts to crack at the sight.

I really don’t want to get between Nesta and Amren, and I can’t face Azriel and Elain together, so I sit next to Cassian as Rhys perches on the arm of the chair beside Feyre. He leans down to kiss her softly on the top of her head and I look away quickly, the crack growing until I feel like my heart is split in two.

Cassian gives me a quick peck on the cheek as I sit before returning to his conversation with Feyre and Mor.

I struggle to engage with anyone, feeling more alone than ever while surrounded by my chosen family.

————

The rest of the night is much of the same.

Every single word is a monumental effort.

I’m hyper-aware of every single person around the table. Every single smile and hidden touch. I feel as if I’m watching from behind a window. I’m on the outside. Alone.

‘They’ll be fine without you,’ that little voice whispers in my ear. ‘Look how happy they are. They don’t need you. All your efforts are wasted. You are a waste.’

After dinner I bid everyone goodnight, heading up to my room.

I miss the concerned glances between my friends, who noticed I’ve been extra quiet tonight.

I miss the shadows that follow behind me.

I miss the way Azriel zones out from what Elain is saying as he watches me leave.

————

I can’t remember the last time I stayed in this room but all my things remain untouched. Clothing, journals, even some beauty products - all where I left them.

I pick up one of my old journals and flip through the pages. I mostly write down the bad stuff. It usually helps get the feelings out, but right now, it’s only adding to the storm that’s brewing inside me.

I carefully set down the books in a stack on my nightstand, picking up a scrap of parchment. As I always do, I write.

I’m sorry to do this here, tonight, but I cannot go on any longer. I truly believe this is for the best. The world was not made for people like me. I’m far too soft. I love you all. Y/N

I set the note down on the bed and rummage through my various medicines. I’ve always struggled to sleep, so I should have some extra tonics in here somewhere…

I find four bottles of sleeping tonic in one of my drawers, plus the one in my pocket.

I arrange them on the nightstand in a straight line.

I pick up the first bottle, uncorking it and raising it in the air.

A toast, to finding someplace better.

I bring the glass rim to my lips, chugging the clear liquid.

One down. Just a few more.

I make short work of the remaining bottles, though I feel a bit queasy from the sheer volume.

As I set down the last bottle, a wisp of darkness curls around my wrist and snakes between the empty bottles.

“You’re too late,” I tell it.

The shadow vanishes and my eyes start to droop.

I lay down on the bed, my entire body feeling heavy.

As I feel myself losing the battle for consciousness, a mass of dark shadows appears next to the bed.

Azriel.

He is frantic as he reaches towards me.

So close. He was so close.

I never get to feel those hands again as the world fades to black and I give myself over to the endless sleep.

A/N: I’m not gonna lie and say I’m okay when clearly I’m not, but I’m not unsafe tonight.

Mental Health Resources*: If you’re in immediate danger please call your country’s emergency number. Australia: Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ Mental Health Hotline: 1800 011 511 Lifeline: 13 11 14 USA: Crisis Line (call or text): 988 UK: Lifeline: 0808 808 8000 *If I have gotten anything wrong or if you have other resources to add, please let me know

#azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar angst

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beskarandblasters · 3 days

Text

Hell Was The Journey But It Brought Me Heaven

Part Five of Time, Wondrous Time

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cooper Howard Masterlist | AO3

Series summary: You’re California Crest Studios’ newest production assistant, getting the opportunity to work on the hit movie, The Man From Deadhorse. But when you meet the movie’s lead, Cooper Howard, you fall head-first into a secret affair. Enter a war, a cryogenic freezer, and a two-hundred-year time jump. And yet despite all that, you just might run into him again.

Author’s note: Stay tuned until the end for a special announcement! 👀

Chapter summary: A rude awakening that ends with the sweetest reunion.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, made up fallout lore (I made up my own vault ok), angst, canon typical violence, restraints, blood, fingering, vaginal sex, irradiated creampie, pet names (sweetheart, good girl), praise kink, fluffy ending, use of RadAway, no use of y/n

“Are you sure this is safe?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t put my best friend in an unsafe situation,” Reina says, unlocking the gate to the vault.

“Right…”

“You just have to change into one of Vault-Tec’s jumpsuits beforehand.”

“Why?”

“It’s what everyone will wear in the vaults, frozen or not. We want to test how they hold up being frozen, how they react to the oils on our skin. That type of thing.”

“…I see.”

Something in your gut tells you this is a bad idea. You could turn back now and tell her that you changed your mind. But her hopefulness stops you from saying no, the desire to not want to disappoint your friend. She’s been working on this for months and she seems so proud of it, so sure that it’ll be vital to saving the world in the face of war.

“So you’ll be compensated for your time after the trial is over,” she says as you descend lower into the vault.

“Got it.”

“And like I said before, you’ll be guaranteed a spot in the vaults should we ever need to use them… But I’d get you in one anyway, of course.”

“Thanks, Reina.”

She leads you into a bleak room, with copious racks of blue and yellow Vault-Tec jumpsuits. On the back of the suits, there’s a large zero in yellow writing. There’s a shelf of boots in the back of the room, along with a wall of lockers.

“Find one that fits and then you can place all your stuff in one of the lockers. And make sure you grab a Pip Boy, okay? It goes on your left wrist.”

“What’s a Pip Boy again?”

You vaguely remember seeing an ad where they were mentioned but don’t remember any details.

“They’re on the shelf next to the boots. We just want to test how they hold up when frozen.”

…She didn’t answer your question but okay.

“Alright. Thanks,” you nod, starting to get undressed as she opens the door.

You slip on the suit and find that it’s slightly uncomfortable. But at least you’ll be unconscious the entire time you have to wear it. You find a pair of boots in your size and slide a Pip Boy on your wrist. You still don’t really understand what it is. From what you can tell, it’s just a thick silver cuff with a black and green display on the screen. It asks you to register your information so you do so, figuring it’ll be important for the trial.

But once you’ve changed, you meet her in the hallway, anxiously walking through the vault. She brings you to a room full of large silver cylinders, a large glass panel in the middle of each of them. She opens the door to the first one, helping you get situated inside. Your nerves are shot, adrenaline coursing through your body. It’ll be painless, that’s for sure. But who’s to say you won’t come from this experience a changed person?

It doesn’t matter. It’s for the greater good.

Now or never.

“See you on the other side,” she smiles, sealing you inside.

You do breathing exercises until everything fades to black.

You’re ripped from your chamber, the sleepiness still settled in your limbs. Before your eyes can adjust to the light you’re thrown onto the floor, scrambling upright. Why would Reina or another Vault-Tec employee for that matter wake you up like this?

You blink a few times and look at who’s standing before you– two men and a woman, dirty, wearing ragged, worn clothing. The two men grab you by your upper arms and force you to stand up.

“Do you work for Vault-Tec?” you ask, utterly confused.

They share a laugh, exchanging menacing smiles with each other.

“I don’t understand. I’m part of an experiment for Vault-Tec. I was just supposed to be frozen for a few days for a thousand dollars cash and a guaranteed spot in the vault.”

“Oh, you got a spot in the vault alright. Bring her to the surface, boys,” the woman says.

“Who are you people? Where’s Reina?”

“If you don’t stop yapping, we’ll gag you,” the woman says, rolling her eyes as you’re forced to head up to the surface.

As you walk through the vault you notice the place is trashed. Blood is smeared on the floor, all over the walls. Dead bodies litter the place, all donning the same jumpsuit you’re wearing. The fear surges through your body, your legs threatening to give out underneath you. If it weren’t for the men holding you upright you would’ve collapsed by now, the fear and shock finally settling it.

How long were you frozen? Where’s Reina? Who are these people and where are they taking you? Why is this place full of dead bodies?

The harsh sunlight on the surface stings your eyes. You glance around once your eyes get adjusted and find that the surface is… different to say the least. It’s a barren wasteland, void of any life, except for the group of people standing near the prisoners. A band of people, similar in appearance to the ones escorting you; rugged attire, faces affected by the harsh climate, and dirty. But as for the prisoners, they’re dressed like you; blue and yellow jumpsuits, boots, a Pip Boy on their wrists, a big zero on their backs.

You’re forced to your knees, in front of the group of prisoners. Your wrists are bound together with rope. You look around you, hoping to recognize someone. But it isn’t until they bring up the last prisoner that you see a familiar face; Reina.

She’s placed beside you, staring straight ahead of her and not daring to glance in your direction. The group of… raiders stand before you, arms folded, menacing smiles on their faces, and covered head to toe in weapons. They outnumber you. They’re a group of at least ten compared to your group of five. A woman who seems to be their leader starts speaking first.

“I’m sure you’re all feeling lost right now… Let me summarize the past two hundred years for you.”

A pit forms in your stomach. The weight of reality threatens to come crashing down on you. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to run. But for the sake of learning what’s been going on for the past… two hundred years, you listen to the strange woman.

“Those of you who signed up to be a part of Vault-Tec’s little experiment… They failed you. They forgot about you long before the bombs dropped, before the war even started.”

She paces back and forth, hands behind her back as she continues.

“And now thanks to us, you've awoken from your eternal slumber. So, to repay us, you’ll be living as our servants.”

You feel like you’re gonna be sick, nausea washes over you as the wind whips your face. The weight of reality threatens to crush you, an overwhelming sense of hopelessness on the brink of swallowing you whole. Your ears start ringing and everything around you turns to white noise. You’re forced upright and placed into a single file line. The group of raiders surround you, guns drawn to prevent anyone from trying to break away. Reina’s in front of you. You have to ask her for more clarity. But maybe once your anxiety subsides.

Your mind is swirling with questions.

War. Bombs. Vaults. Your family. Your friends.

Cooper.

You can't process that it’s been two hundred years since that fateful night Reina locked you in the freezer. Your mind refuses to accept it. But as you walk through the wasteland, you slowly work up the courage to confront her.

“Did you know?” you say suddenly.

“Did I know what?”

“That they were just going to forget about me for two hundred plus years.”

“…Yes.”

“Quiet!” one of the male raiders shouts.

But you don’t listen.

“I should’ve known better. Cooper always talked about how shady Vault-Tec was,” you mutter to yourself.

“Cooper?”

Fuck.

“Do you mean Cooper Howard?”

“Uhh…”

“I said quiet!” the raider shouts again.

“If I’m telling the truth right now then so are you.”

“He would just tell me about how his wife worked there and how the company seemed to have suspicious motives.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then what are you asking?” you retort, scoffing at her audacity to even be demanding answers from you right now. You fucked a married man. She locked her best friend in a freezer for two hundred years and yet she’s the one acting like you committed a heinous crime.

“Under what circumstances did he tell you all this?”

“After we slept together,” you say smugly.

You expect to get yelled at again but instead, another raider chimes in.

“You slept with The Man From Deadhorse?”

“How long?” Reina asks.

“Not that it’s anybody's business, but from when I started on the film up until the day of the premiere.” You wanted to rub it in her face. She had been single at the time, bemoaning the fact to you whenever you hung out.

“So you were sleeping with him until about two days before you entered the vault?”

“Yeah, but that’s beside the fucking point. You need to tell me everything you know now.”

“Vault Zero was originally an experiment to see how long the body could last in a cryogenic freezer.”

“You told me it would be a couple of days.”

“I lied.”

“But… why? We were friends. Why would you do this to me?”

“They were pressuring me to find test subjects.”

“What made you ask me? Did I just mean nothing to you?”

She doesn’t answer, continuing forward but you press further.

“What about you? How did you get thrown in there?”

“Against my will. They were short on test subjects and threw me in there a few days before the war started.”

“When did the war start?”

“…October.”

Ten months. Ten months before the war had even started, you were locked in that vault.

Ten. Months.

Two hundred years and ten months.

You fight the urge to cry, instead opening your mouth to fire a retort back at her. But the raider walking beside you shoves you with the barrel of his gun.

“Gossip time is over,” he grunts.

But now that you think about it, you don’t have anything to say to her.

You walk for what feels like hours upon hours. The rope on your wrists irritates your skin and you want nothing more than to rip it off you and run as fast as you can. But on second thought, you know you wouldn’t last an hour in the wild on your own. There’s so much you have to learn about the world again. It’s overwhelming, thinking about what’s changed over the past two centuries. You’re left wondering what became of your home, what became of your family and friends, what became of Cooper.

But for that, you feel fucking stupid. Your affair ended months before the war started. Who knows what has transpired in life since then? He could’ve patched things up with Barb. He could’ve moved on and forgotten all about you. He could’ve found another young production assistant to spend his nights with.

Maybe he thought about you in your absence. Maybe he asked Emil about where you went. Maybe he stayed up late at night, thinking about what could’ve been.

Probably not.

Suddenly you wish you were never pulled from the freezer.

After what feels like forever, you arrive at the raider's base camp; a shanty town of tents and old cars. The place is littered with rubble, piles of old machinery, and oil drums. The raiders force you and the others on your knees again in a single-file row. The same woman as before paces back and forth before the group, hands behind her back like always, getting ready to tell you what’s expected of you as their new “slaves”.

But then she stops, looking past the group and out into the distance. She draws her gun and points behind you in the distance.

“Get outta here, you fucking shuffler.”

You try to look behind you but all you can see is the silhouette of a man, wearing a hat and a long ragged coat.

“Not goin’ anywhere until I get what I’m after.”

That voice.

You hear the sound of a piece of paper unfolding, prompting the woman to say, “That’s not me.”

“Sure looks a whole lot like you.” You can tell by his voice that he’s smirking.

Could it be?

“You’re outta your mind if you think I’m going anywhere with you… At least not without a fight.”

She shoots at the mysterious man. The crackle of the gunshot rings through your ears, making you flinch. You try to crouch down lower to miss getting caught in the crossfire and shield one of your ears with your shoulder at least. But you expect him to be dead now, falling to the ground with blood pooling around him.

But instead, he laughs.

“Well… I was afraid you’d say that.”

Another gunshot. But not from the woman, from the man.

She falls to the ground, gurgling blood in her throat and trying desperately to yell, “After him!”

The other raiders open fire, bullets flying all around you. Some of the new prisoners try to run, seizing the opportunity to make a mad dash. Some of them succeed, running far away into the wastelands. But some fail, getting hit by stray bullets and collapsing to the ground. You stay low, inching farther away and taking cover behind an oil drum. You listen as the gunfire rages on, people screaming and crying out in pain.

You’re at war with yourself, part of you screaming, run far away from here. But the other part of you tells you to wait it out, let them all shoot each other to death, and loot their supplies after. You decide to listen to the latter voice instead.

You peek out from behind the oil drum, watching as the man reloads his gun. You haven’t seen the front of him yet but you’re dying to see his face. That voice… God, it sounded so familiar.

You return to center and close your eyes, hoping everything will stop soon. You’re not sure where Reina is, if she ran off, if she’s dead or alive. But to be honest, you don’t care. You’ve quickly learned one rule of the wasteland so far– do this shit alone.

But eventually, the gunfire and the screams stop. You don’t open your eyes yet, listening intently for any signs of life. Footsteps creep near you and you freeze, hoping no one looks behind the oil drum. But it’s too late.

“What do we have here?”

That voice.

You open your eyes and look at the strange man standing before you– rugged skin, no nose, no hair, tattered clothing, and hazel eyes. You’ve seen those eyes before.

The man crouches down and reaches into his pocket for a switchblade. You flinch for a moment but realize he’s just cutting the rope around your wrists. Once your hands are free you soothe the irritated skin on your wrists, looking up at the man again. His gaze softens. And now that he’s closer to you, you can confirm that you’ve definitely seen those eyes before.

“Cooper?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Cooper Howard, I’d recognize that voice anywhere,” you say, brushing your thumb over his textured cheek. “And those eyes.”

He closes his eyes and melts at your touch, placing a gloved hand over yours.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he whispers.

“Me either… But I’m glad you found me.”

An overwhelming emotion washes over you and you can’t help but pull him into you, clutching onto him for dear life. You’re breaking down, letting the hot tears roll down your cheeks.

“Cooper, I’m so scared.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he says, rubbing your back. “Let’s get you out of here,” he whispers, warm breath tickling the shell of your ear.

He helps you stand upright, snaking an arm around your waist as he leads you into the colony of tents. He brings you to one messily labeled “med” with spray paint. Inside there are a few stretchers and copious amounts of medical supplies lining the perimeter of the tent. He sets you down on a stretcher and kneels before you, inspecting you for any injuries.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head no.

“I promise I’ll explain everything to you, okay?”

“What happened to you?”

“Exposed to radiation, sweetheart.”

“And it turned you into-”

“A ghoul.”

A ghoul… You’re not sure what that means. Everything’s so confusing and overwhelming.

He gets up and grabs a canteen of water, handing it to you as he sits on the stretcher beside you.

“Are you… alone out here?” You ask after you take a sip.

“...I am.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I still want you.”

“Sweetheart… trust me, you don’t.”

“But I do.”

“You don’t want to wake up next to this mug every morning.”

“Cooper, I’m still attracted to you now like I was back then. I’ve always loved you for more than your appearance. Plus… it was hot watching you kill all those bad guys,” you say, turning towards him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.”

You lean forward and kiss him. It feels different but also the same simultaneously, caressing the face of your man, the new version of him. His hands roam your body, running along your outline in the jumpsuit. He pulls back and murmurs, “Let’s get you out of this fuckin’ suit.”

He moves off the stretcher and works to undress you, starting with your boots and working his way up. He unzips the top of your jumpsuit, helping you up so you can shimmy out of it, tossing the Pip Boy to the ground. And once your bra and underwear are off, you’re completely bare.

You lie back down on the cot, legs spread apart as he gets situated in between your thighs. He tugs off his glove and spits into his hand, playing with your entrance. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. He inserts one finger inside you, curling it painstakingly slowly against your soft walls. His other hand gravitates to your breast, caressing the outline before traveling to your nipple. Your breath hitches as he takes it between his fingertips, working into a stiff peak before moving to the next one.

“All these years later and you’re still just as desperate for me,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you shoot back with a shaky breath. “It’s only been like a couple of days for me.”

“You know I’m only teasin’, sweetheart. Love gettin’ you all worked up like this,” he says, adding a second finger.

He makes a come here motion with his two fingers, curling them against your g-spot as you writhe against the stretcher.

“Gonna cum, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you respond, voice high-pitched and dripping with arousal.

“Let me feel it,” he commands.

With one last motion of his fingers, you cum around them, clenching and releasing them erratically. Your moans and the wet, squelching sounds of your cunt fill the tent, looking directly into his eyes as you cum. You roll your hips into his hand, riding out the remainder of your high. He pulls his hand from you when you’re done and brings it to his mouth, tasting your spend.

“My good girl. So sweet,” he praises.

He pulls his cock out of his pants and hovers above you, gathering more of your spend with his hand and spreading it on his cock. Another shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. God, you needed him.

“Ready for me, sweetheart?”

You nod and it’s then that he finally enters you, splitting you apart with his cock. Your moan gets caught in your throat as you get adjusted to his size, staring directly into his eyes again. He places his hands by either side of your head, thrusting in and out of you repeatedly.

“Still feels just as good,” he says, jaw going slack as he watches your squirm underneath him.

You’re past sentences, only responding in the form of whimpers. Your moans grow incessant as your pleasure builds, thanks to his cock sliding in and out of you. He slams his hips into you one final time and with that, you finally cum. Your cunt convulses as the muscles in your core contract and release, waves of pleasure surging through your body. Your moans are like music to his ears, a familiar sound he’ll never get sick of. He curses under his breath and before you know it he’s coming inside you. His cum paints your insides as his thrusts grow sloppy. You finish riding out your highs together, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. Eventually, his hips slow to a stop and he remains inside you, looking down at you with all of the love and admiration in the world.

Maybe it’s the rush of hormones. Maybe it’s the past twenty-four hours making you emotional. Maybe it’s the weight of being reunited. But you’re reminded of how much you love him. And now that he’s finally yours you’re not afraid to say it.

“Cooper?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you blurt out, studying his face for his reaction.

But he just smiles and says, “I love you, too.”

He leans down and kisses you, soft and gentle before trailing kisses down your jawline.

You feel his cum leak out of you and remember he came inside you for once.

“I can’t believe you actually came inside me.”

“Speaking of that,” he groans, sliding off the stretcher and rummaging through the medical supplies. He grabs a clear bag filled with a brownish liquid, labeled with the word RadAway and an IV.

“You’re gonna need this, though.”

“What’s this?”

“Gets rid of the radiation I just released inside ya.”

You sigh and lean back on the stretcher, letting him hook you up to the medicine.

“What about like… pregnancy?”

“Ghouls are sterile,” he chuckles. “You got a lot to learn about the world, sweetheart.”

“I know… But at least I get to do it with you.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

End note: I would say that we reached the end for these two but that’s not entirely true! I’ve decided to write a series of one off stories about Cooper showing the Reader the ways of the wasteland! The new loose fit series will be called With You By My Side! I just want to thank @clawdee for being my rock throughout this series, for beta reading these chapters at an incredible rate for y’all, and always being there to bounce around ideas with me! And I want to thank all of you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. I feel so lucky I get to share this story with y’all! I hope you’ll catch up with these two in With You By My Side 🤍

If you like my work, consider supporting me on Ko-fi 🤍

Check out the series playlist! 🎶

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag list: @widowmakerow @bisasterbisexual @wowitsem @vegetarianvamp @celestial-vomit @ghoulsimper @anyzandy @justfoxymuffins @hobnob2020 @fallout-girl219 @ipostwhtifeel @awhoresjourney @chiyo13 @valkyreally @ivyinthesun

#time wondrous time #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #the ghoul fanfiction #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout #fallout fanfiction #the ghoul x f!reader #cooper howard x fem!reader

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luveline · 3 days

Note

KBDDDDD AHHHHHHHHH

—Steve takes the lead when your baby makes a mess. mom!reader, 1.5k

Your hands are soft. Steve holds both of them in one of his, not quite big enough for a comfortable fit, but it’s alright. Your pinky finger rests against his knee. Doesn’t fit in his hand, but it doesn’t matter.

Steve loves you because you’re you. And so many things make you who you are, he couldn’t boil them down into just one thing. Maybe it’s your brightness he loves most, how you lean down next to him and smile into his tricep for no reason. Maybe it’s that you’ve never been cruel to him, not once. You have this capacity for love that you don’t see in yourself, but he does. You don’t expect anything from him that he can’t give.

He lets his head drop down to rest on yours.

If he’s clingy, you’re worse. You settle closer into his side with a content sigh nearly too quiet to hear. Then comes a scratching sound. His thumb, which had been employed in a soft back and forth into one of your palms, comes to a stop.

You sigh again. Less content. “Why’d you stop?” you mumble.

“Can you hear that?”

“No… What is it?”

He shakes his head, turning his face back into your head. “Nothing. Must be the wind.”

You take back one of your hands to rest on your stomach. “She’s kicking.”

“Is she? Can I feel?”

You press Steve’s hand to your bump and wait for him to feel it. He waits for another kick, not so much a vibration as a distension, the force of a movement. It’s like she’s saying hello, only he can’t feel it. You pull his hand down to the bottom of your stomach and nudge your shirt up so he’s skin to skin.

“She’s shy now you’re watching,” you say.

He turns his head in the other direction and you laugh, which makes him laugh, the volume of you both nearly not quite occluding a second heavy scratching sound from upstairs.

You stop laughing. “What is that? Is that Avery?”

Steve sighs. It had been really, really nice to sit with you and just get to appreciate you for a moment, but duty always calls. And no offence to you, but he’d much rather know Avery was safe, because what the heck is that sound?

He stands and helps you up, though he doesn’t wait for you to follow. Steve bounds up the stairs two at a time and you giggle and follow, saying something he misses about his rushing, how he’s gonna fall flat on his face. He yanks down the handle on Avery’s room and pushes open the door.

Your toddler looks up with caught eyes. “Oh.”

“Babe, what!” Steve looks around at the mess she’s made and turns around to shut the door.

“Steve, what is it?” you ask, still on the stairs.

“Baby, if you see this you’re gonna panic. It’s just a mess, and it’s going to upset you so bad. Go sit down. I’ll clean it up.”

He decides honesty will be his best strategy. Remarkably, it works. You get to the top of the stairs and turn for your room, saying, “All right. I don’t wanna see.”

Avery’s in the adorable place between baby and toddler where she has lots of her babyhood still intact, but she’s her own broad person. She can talk, and walk, and do terrible awful things. If you saw the mess you’d never agree to another baby if you weren’t already having one, it’s horrific; where she found her crayons Steve doesn’t know, but there’s scribbles over everything. The walls, the bed, the windowsill.

She frowns at him with her eyes full of tears and drops a crayon on the floor, caught red-handed.

Steve nips out of her room to the bathroom for a spray bottle of cleaner and a rag. You lay on the bed in the main bedroom with your hand over your eyes.

It takes him a long time to clean off what he can. The walls become a rainbow blend and then a dark green sludge over baby pink, but he scrubs, and Avery tries to help near his knee. Despite what he’d said about it being a potentially upsetting scene should you have seen it, mess doesn’t stress Steve out anymore. You’d only panic because you’re pregnant, not because it’s a permanent problem. You’re easily upset lately.

“Good job, baby,” he says, kissing Avery behind the ear as she wipes the rag over the wall. “Can dad have a turn now? We need to clean this mess up before you fall asleep.”

“Not sleepy,” she says, dropping into his lap with a thump.

“No? So the sleepies in your eyes are for show, huh? Mr. Sandman gave you those for no reason.” He drops the rag, wiping his hand dry on his pants, and pressing it to her back. She’s more him than you and she’s beautiful nonetheless, sulky eyes and eyebrows like his, her little mouth. She rounder in the face, and she’s got a more feminine shape to her chin, but when she wobbles on his thigh with the effort it takes to fight sleep she looks exactly like him. Her eyes flicker closed.

“Avery,” he says, nudging her close to his chest, “we’re gonna have a big talk about crayons in the morning.”

“Nigh-nigh.”

Steve breathes out a short breath. “Yeah, nigh-nigh. I love you, messy girl.”

“Love you.”

Snores. Immediate snores. Steve lets her settle for a minute and then stands, holding her to his chest as he throws her sheets further back in bed and puts her down. He tucks her in, kisses her forehead, and cleans the rest of her room in silence. It takes ages, but nobody’s upset when he’s done.

You peek from under your arm.

“I’m sorry.”

He sits by your hip. “Ooh, for what?”

“That sounded awful.”

“Yeah, it was, you should be ashamed of yourself.” He looks for something to squeeze, deciding on your shoulder. “No, it was fine. She helped, and she’s back in bed.”

“I should go give her a goodnight kiss.”

Steve brings his hand to your face. Draws a curve down your cheek. When he cups your jaw, you stay still and wait for him to talk. He has the strangest feeling, like you’d wait all night. “You can give her a goodnight kiss, just there’s still some crayon on the wall. But we’ll paint over it, okay? I promise. Nothing’s ruined.”

“Was it everywhere?”

“On the walls and her bed. A lot more came off than I expected. And can you be mad? She’s an artist. That’s artistic expression.”

“Not mad. Just worried we won’t fix it and then we’ll have the baby and it’ll never get fixed.”

“I promise,” he whispers, leaning in. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”

You don’t have to say okay or thank you. Your hand searches for his as he stays there over you, your eyes met.

“I believe you,” you say finally.

“I know, I’m just looking at you. You have a sleepy like Avery did.”

You laugh and turn out of his hand. The reason goes unsaid, Steve, you’re so romantic.

“How’s that baby?” he asks, before you can roll away.

“She’s kicking, yeah. Everytime she hears your voice.”

He stops. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. You’re talking and she’s hitting me right in the spleen.”

“You don’t even know where your spleen is,” Steve says, putting his hands together. He is not afraid or ashamed to beg. “Can I feel it, please?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

He doesn’t always, of course he doesn’t. There’s love and trust in spontaneity, but there’s also trust in knowing you’ve had a long day, and you don’t enjoy being poked at like a poor animal at the petting zoo. Steve pulls your shirt up where it’d already been rising and feels along your skin gently, slowly, not needing you to tell him where she is. He presses the meat of his thumb to your tummy and waits. The bump is sturdy but surprisingly soft, too. When Beth kicks, for a split second, he feels it like she’s right there in the room.

He immediately drops his head to kiss your skin. “Hello,” he says, rubbing your stomach appreciatively.

You put your index finger by his. “Hi, baby.”

“Let’s hope you’re the well behaved one.”

You draw a short line, back and forth. “I don’t care if she's not.”

“I have a funny feeling she will be.”

“It’s wishful thinking.”

Steve grins and sits up. “It’s definitely wishful thinking.” Beth gives another kick. He can see it. “That’s sort of queasy. Are you alright?”

“Doesn’t hurt.” You rub your bump. “She’s just saying hi.”

455 notes · View notes

macabr3-barbi3 · 2 days

Text

Entanglement (Sub Vox x Reader)

A request from the lovely @jurijyuu for a tentacle malfunction Sub Vox 💕📺

Tags: Restraints; Light Bondage; Sub Vox; Teasing; Begging; Dom/sub Undertones; Tentacles? Sort of? are Vox's cable/wire things tentacles? the world may never know

💙❤️💙❤️💙

Who could have guessed that trying to do something nice for his doll could have resulted in something like this?

Vox had been waiting for you to finish up with Velvette for the shoot that was happening this evening. He knew after hours of the fucked up poses that Vel forced you into to get the perfect shot you would be sore- she had had you hanging by your knees from the fucking chandelier on one occasion, insisting that the slight sway to the fixture would result it a cool shot from your camera (it did; that wasn’t the point). Her favorite photographer, Velvette was always fucking stealing your free time away from him. It was good for business, but bad for his plan of simply keeping you naked in his room at all times for easy access.

He had been laying in the bed, lazily stroking himself just in case you showed up, when the idea struck him to run you a hot bath and light some candles around the room. It shouldn't have been too much longer before you arrived so the candles wouldn’t burn out, and you always enjoyed it when he ‘set the mood,’ whatever that meant. He could probably sell you on fucking before your bath, too- even more deep aches and sweet bruises for the hot water to soothe.

He was too lazy to get up though, so he had snaked out a few of his cables from the back of his head, long and prehensile, a few pairs of them diving into the various drawers in the room searching for the candles and matches and two slithering across the floor towards the bathroom. Had he thought to check the floor for water from his shower a few hours prior before sending two very much electrical tentacles into the room he might have had better luck.

Currently though, his luck was shit. The water found its way into his wires and shorted them out, electrical current traveling all the way through to the base and fucking up the other cables as well; they whipped and snapped across the room in wide arcs and twisting wriggles, and his attempts to grab them from the air and cease the destruction to his room only resulted in his wrists getting tangled up in the mess.

So here Vox had been for the last fifteen minutes or so, restrained by his wrists in the bed and still achingly, frustratingly hard. His cables didn’t so much as twitch when he tries to send some power to them to reverse the entanglement, or when he tugged his arms a bit. His cock does though, and isn’t that something interesting that he doesn’t want to think about right now.

And then like an angel, there’s the sound of the door opening and you coming home. “Baby,” he shouts from the bedroom, and he hears the telltale thump of your camera bag on the kitchen counter. “I could use your help in here!”

“What did you do now? If you cracked your screen off the stand again-” Your voice trails off when you enter the room and see him- he’s sure he looks fucking ridiculous, spread out like he is, and he feels the spread of pink pixels over his screen in a blush.

“I was trying to do something nice for you,” he says, “and got some water in my wires. Everything went haywire, and, well, now I’m here. Be a doll and help me get loose?”

The way you’re watching him is a little disconcerting- not bad by any means, he loved having your eyes on him, just a little unusual. You slide your jacket off your shoulders and toss it on the armchair, sliding your hair out of its bun that you wear to keep your hair out of your eyes while you work. When you go for the button on your jeans he clears his throat.

“I appreciate the strip tease, sweetheart, but there’s more pressing matters at hand here.” He lifts his wrists in demonstration, the wires brushing his skin in a way that makes him suck in a harsh breath, dick twitching in his boxers. “Come on, help me.”

You work your jeans and panties down your legs, his eyes trailing the whole way before settling on the space between your legs. Then your shirt comes off, perfect tits on display as you do a rotation, let him take in the visual of your body in front of him before running your hands down your skin and back up- one hand plucks at a nipple while the other dips down between your legs.

Vox’s mouth is hanging open, pixelated lines of drool coming off his mouth as he watches you, cock throbbing out of his reach. He tugs at his makeshift restraints, a little breathless when it sends a bolt of arousal through his body- seriously, what the fuck? “I am in no mood to be teased right now,” he tells you, but the words are a little reedy and almost whimpered. He clears his throat and tries again- “Seriously, help me.”

You come closer to the bed, climb onto it and settle yourself between his legs. “Come on, Voxxy,” you murmur, and the low, dangerous tone to your voice goes straight to his straining erection despite the use of that fucking nickname that he hated. “Tied up all pretty for me and not even going to say ‘please?’ That’s not how you get what you want.” Your hands run up his calves, up his thighs, and your thumbs brush into the dip of his pelvic bone. Your touch sends electricity crackling through him, static sparking between his antennae. “That’s what you always say anyway- you wouldn’t want to be a hypocrite, would you?” You drag the waistband of his boxers down, and he’s half-mortified when his hips automatically cant up to make it easier for you, his dick slapping heavy onto his abdomen when it springs free.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He can feel the manic grin on his face- confused by the turn of events, by his sweet, perfect doll not simply doing what you were told and, what? Trying to get him to beg? As if- even if it was hot as fuck (and it was, Christ). “Baby, I- ohhhh, fuck-”

Your head ducked down to lick a stripe up his cock, tongue curling around the head- his hips buck up, try to sink into the wet cavern of your mouth but you pull back with a soft smile. “Say please.”

“Fuck you.” Vox says this affectionately- he was the one in control in the bedroom, this was cute and all, but he wouldn’t plead with you for it.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t be,” you snap back with a wicked grin on your face. And you’re gone again, bent over to lick and suck at the hard length of him with your ass in the air, just the way that he likes.

Again, when he tries to thrust into your mouth you pull off, and he tugs uselessly at his restraints, head falling back against the pillows when you bring a hand up to cup his balls, thumb running gently over the sensitive skin. “Haah- you’re going to fucking kill me.” He’s a little embarrassed by that whiny moan that had escaped him, but you’re not even looking at his face, head resting on his thigh to gaze lovingly at his fucking dick while you stroke and kiss and generally tease him.

Vox thinks he might be losing his mind, just a little. But fuck does he want it, want to lose himself in the wet heat of your mouth, sink deep into your slick cunt and watch you bounce in his lap. He could still do that with his hands restrained, right? He wouldn’t be able to grip your hips the way he wanted to, or get his fingers on your clit and revel in the way that always made you clench tighter around him- but he could make do if you wouldn’t release him.

And there’s the thought that does him in- that maybe you wouldn’t let him go, would keep him tied to the bed with his own goddamn wires to tease him endlessly, unable to do anything about it himself, evidently unable to convince you to do anything for him. He was at your mercy here, the thought making him dizzy with arousal and an unprompted whine falling from his lips when he notices you working your fingers between your legs while you finally let the head of his cock slip past your lips, suction on the tip that makes him see stars.

“P-please,” he breathes out, and you release him with a pop, such excitement lighting up your eyes that he wishes he had given in sooner- you were so beautiful when you were pleased and excited, what would you look like when he gave in to you like this?

You move up the bed, legs on either side of his, and slide your drenched folds against the length of him. Leaning down so your face is next to his, you press a deep kiss to his mouth, slipping your tongue alongside his before you pull back and whisper, “again.” Your hands press into Vox’s chest as you slot him against you, rub the head of his prick against your clit and groan in ecstasy.

His hips jerk at the sensation. “Please, baby,” he says darkly, “let me fuck you.”

“Hmm, not quite what I’m looking for.” You lift off of him, slide back and out of reach again. “Try again?”

“What? Come on, I can’t-” He pulls at his restraints again, and the way your eyes go half-lidded at the sight gets the message through. “You wanna keep me trussed up, is that it?”

“Is it so wrong for the photographer to want to keep a pretty picture on display?” Your fingers twitch between your pretty thighs, grinding tiny circles into your clit while you wait for him to give you what you want. “I wish I hadn’t left my camera in the kitchen; I would love a shot like this. I’d have to get some different lighting…” Your hips stop moving for a moment as you look around the room. “Maybe candlelight would work? I think that would cast a nice glow on your skin, so pretty- fuck, should I go get my camera?”

“No!” The word breaks past the dam of his lips when you use one of his own tricks against him- the threat of ending the pleasure when you’re so fucked out and cock drunk, on the brink of cumming. “No no no, doll, don’t leave- fuck, please, alright? Please touch me, fuck me, ride my cock. I’m fucking begging, I need it-”

A shudder rolls through your body, and finally, finally you sink down on him, a slow, delicious slide that has his fingers clenching uselessly where they’re held, wishing he could hold you, dig his claws in like he usually did.

“I didn’t say stop,” you moan, watching him through narrowed eyes. “Come on, Voxxy, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to stop fucking t͖͖̠̬͛ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅi̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ me-” Your hips slow and Vox bites his tongue, rephrasing- and this time, to his chagrin, the stream of words doesn’t fucking stop. “Please, baby, don’t stop- f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, so fucking good, I w-want- I wanna cum, please, keep going, you f-feel so f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓-” An honest to God whimper comes out of him, so invested in both of you cumming that he can’t even find the sense in him to be embarrassed by what was happening. His screen is glitching out, his vision broken when he goes full static every couple of seconds, but the glimpses he’s getting in between of you with your head thrown back are going to fuel his jerk-off sessions when he can’t spend the night with you for the rest of his afterlife. You felt fucking perfect around him, your swollen pussy walls squeezing him just right as you rode him.

“Say please,” you command, fingers working between your legs, the back of your hand brushing against his abdomen and causing the muscles to flutter under you. “Ask me to make you cum- ask for permission and I’ll let you cum in me-”

And didn’t that just sound like the perfect end to the evening? He doesn’t even question it, couldn’t stop his traitorous tongue if he tried. “Please, doll, oh my fucking- please please p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ, p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ, let me do it, cum with me-” He feels the tension in his entire body, from his suspended arms to the tips of his goddamn toes- he might actually fully fucking short out, he thinks deliriously, processors overloading in his brain at the sights and sounds and the feel of you sucking him into your greedy body. “- p͔͔͚͉̬̋ͩ̾͗l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ let me, baby- oh f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔, I’m gonna-”

You hit the peak of your orgasms together, your body jerking in his lap like you’ve been electrocuted while your cunt wrings him like a fucking towel, tensing and rippling around his cock as he spills into the slickness, long pulses of cum as far inside of you as he can get and its not enough- he can never be close enough to you to feel complete so he settles for filling you with everything he has to give.

Vox doesn’t black out, but its a near thing- the explosion of sudden voltage to his circuits actually jump-starts the core of his cable tentacles and they spring to life, his wrists finally coming free and falling to the bed so he’s spread out like some fucked up crucifixion. They’re numb, he realizes, but before he can get to doing anything about that you shift, reaching for them and massaging feeling back into his limbs. There’s some light bruising, but nothing crazy, not any worse than you had whenever the pair of you occasionally delved into bondage.

The heavy breathing of you both evens out, and you bring his hands to your mouth to press light kisses to them. When you’re satisfied you release him, and his arms wrap around your back. You press a gentle kiss to his screen and rest your head on his chest.

“You know,” you mutter into his skin, “technically I didn’t give you permission to cum. That’s gotta count for… something. I’m not sure what.”

He snorts into your hair. “Doesn’t count for shit. You cheated, waiting until I was right on the brink to say that shit.”

You hum, and snuggle closer. “You liked it though? Maybe a repeat in the future?”

His instinct was to say no, but he couldn’t deny that he had enjoyed it- you were a dangerous force in control, something he would maybe have to mention to Velvette so she would let you direct your own goddamn shoots. “We’ll talk about it,” he settles on, still a tad embarrassed by his reaction to the whole thing. “I do think you should have to draw the bath now, though- for both of us, since I think you rode me so hard my thighs have bruises.”

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh into his chest, but you still roll off of him and disappear into the bathroom- the sound of running water fills the room while Vox tries to remember how to make his legs work.

“I better not see that camera in here, either!” He shouts, and your responding giggle brings a smile to his face.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56081230

#ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #simp shit <3 #x reader #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox smut #hazbin hotel x reader

92 notes · View notes

strawberryblue-blog · 16 hours

Note

Hey, hope you’re good. For the Barcelona football player povs, could you maybe do one about the moment he realised he was in love with you, thanks :)

FALLING IN LOVE

—FC BARCELONA.

summary: How would boys react when they realize they are in love?

words: +1.5k

warnings: none. cute, soft.

song recommendation:

Pedri González.

You were probably one of his first loves. Maybe he once loved someone but not like he does you. He really wanted to take things slowly but after not being able to hide his feelings, he would accept that he is completely in love with you.

Although he still doesn't know whether to tell you, he trusts you and knows that you would never hurt him, but he will wait for you to tell him so as not to influence your decision.

But he is very in love and you will see how he begins to have different attitudes towards you, his hands look for yours all the time, his eyes do not stop looking at you, his voice changes when he talks to you.

Ferran Torres.

You just got out of a relationship and didn't think you could fall in love again so quickly. But Ferran will not hesitate to tell you that her feelings have changed and now he sees you differently.

He really loves you, like you are the right person for him, he likes you with all your strengths and weaknesses. The way you laugh, when you seek his warmth, when he embarrasses you at his compliments.

He really admires and is proud to be able to say that he loves you. Because for him you are an honest, loving and kind person. So how not to fall in love with you?

Joao Felix.

Like Ferran, Joao also just broke up from a somewhat complicated relationship and although he thought he would not fall in love again for a long time, you arrived to ruin his plans (in a good way).

It was inevitable for him to think that you were a great woman, with clear values, principles and objectives. A woman who knows she wants him and loves that.

Compared to his previous relationships, this time Joao feels that it is real. That you understand and complement each other, that you don't need to tell the world about yourself but that you love and support each other.

Pablo Gavi.

For Gavi, loving you is something new in his life. Maybe she has had the odd romance but none like yours. He is completely lost in you.

Like a youthful romance and one of those that will last a lifetime. Gavi admires you, supports you and loves you no matter what. Willing to learn from you and everything that loving you entails.

He's a gentleman, he likes to be affectionate with you, tell you cheesy things, take you to cute places. He will show you to the world, because he loves you and he wants everyone to know it.

Fermín Lopez.

You have known each other since you were little and how could you not fall in love with such a man? He is everything to you.

Fermín is the person that everyone wants by their side, affectionate, kind, careful and respectful. And he loves you unconditionally. He has loved you forever, since you used to play in the gardens of his house.

I always accepted his feelings for you and he was always direct because he knows what he wants and that's you. So he's an old romantic and will treat you like the queen you are.

Marc Guiu.

Maybe at first he tries to hide his feelings, we all know that he likes to seem like a tough man but deep down he is not.

He is completely in love with you and he won't be able to hide it for long. Because he loves it when you laugh, when you get close to him, when You are free and fun.

He likes it when you care about him and take care of him, it makes him want to love you more than he should. So he will confess and he won't let you go, he is determined to have you in his life and he knows that you want it too.

Héctor Fort.

You are the first girl he has liked since he can remember and it will be a little shy and embarrassing for Hector. He doesn't know how to tell you, act, or approach you.

He will probably feel a little insecure at first but he will gain confidence when you are the one who approaches him and shows him that you are also interested.

Everything will be like the first time with him, loving each other, understanding each other, taking care of each other, but it will be so magical because Héctor is simply in love with you in every way.

99 notes · View notes

jeongin-lvr · 21 hours

Note

OK ok, but yk that fic about jeongin and beomgyu? Now, imagine jeongin pulls the “I’m going on tour” card and your bestie beomgyu pulls up and reader can’t HELP but want some of that d and lil beomgyu gets revenge on jeongin girlfriendddddddd?

I love your brain mwah… for those interested this is the original ask :p

Jeongin didn’t like it but it had to be done; he had to leave for tour. It was only a few short months but to him it felt like an eternity, and he was sure that he’d die in that little span of time. He’d told you with his whole heart that you’re his even when he’s away, whispering late at night the few days before he had to leave that, well, he loves you but also that you’re forbidden from doing anything without him. And by anything he means touching yourself, even if you’re desperate. And you could tell by the stern dimness of his eyes that he meant it. “Don’t even think about it, baby,” Jeongin demands and for a second you pout, wondering what you’ll do when times get needy for you. Jeongin was strict, very, very strict. Honestly it was a little cruel but he was set in his ways. And if he says no touching yourself, he really fucking means it.

The thing about Jeongin is that he knows you too well— he knows when you’re needy and he definitely knows when you’re aching for him. So he wasn’t worried about anything like that. He knew that you were very obedient (most of the time) and you always managed to do as you were told. However, he had the complete opposite feeling toward his supposed best friend. The same man who spent hours yearning for you; groaning into his hand as his fingers wrapped around himself, pretending it was you. Oh, Jeongin knew it all. Beomgyu was more than willing to pounce as soon as Jeongin was away. Jeongin found himself demanding another thing of you, “And while im away, love, don’t even think about talking to Beomgyu,” to you, that was simple. You never truly longed to converse with your boyfriend’s friends, but when Beomgyu received a text from the very same man, he was livid:

“Dont touch her,” Beomgyu read with a sneer on his face, grimacing as another text loaded, “Even when I’m away she’s still mine.” And Beomgyu suddenly had it set in his mind that he didn’t just want you anymore; he needed you. Not only that, he needed to prove that Jeongin didn’t have as much control over the two of you as he thought.

Quite frankly it was easy. You were dumb, he was conniving. So it didn’t take long before he’d weaseled his way into your life; meanwhile Jeongin sat in a hotel bed across the world, oblivious to how Beomgyu had you bent over the bed right now. Oblivious to the way Beomgyu’s name rolled off your tongue between indecent pants; hips rolling along with every little thrust forward he made into you, drool pooling on the side of your cheek and into the thin fabric of your bed sheets. It really didn’t take long; Beomgyu had you broken for him in a matter of days.

“You dumb fuckin’ girl, going stupid on my cock,” Beomgyu berated between breathless groans. He’d wanted this for so long; now there was no one in his way to stop him from finally having what he wants. He possessed his prize, he didn’t intend on letting this moment go to waste, “Doesn’t that feel nice? Better than your stupid boyfriend, yeah? He can’t make you feel this way— this good.” Beomgyu’s words did nothing but egg you on, cunt clenching around his length— it was so different from your boyfriends. Beomgyu was a little longer, curved different and the lewd stretch of his cock was dizzying. Your boyfriend would just about lose it right now if he saw this; you moaning another man’s name, taking another man’s cock. “Say something, baby, c’mon,” Beomgyu bent to your face, pressing his chest into your sweaty back, aching to hear your voice.

You nodded stupidly, jaw hanging open and eyes fluttering as his big hands came to grip yours; the touch was nothing like Jeongin’s either. Beomgyu’s fingers were colder, his palms bigger and the grip he had on you was harsh. You moaned into the mattress, too dumb to even think about regret. “It’s— fuck, mm, it’s so good! Gyu—“ Beomgyu always loved when you called him that, now he found another reason to love it. His hips smashed into yours quicker, not caring how overwhelming it all was for you. He needed to memorialize this moment forever; capture it not just for himself but for a particular someone who’s kept you away from him longer than needed. Beomgyu’s eyes drifted, falling to your phone that lay unattended a few spaces away from your head. Oh, it was sick, it was borderline evil. But Beomgyu grinned like a mastermind as he let go of your hand and reached for the phone. Your mind was too hazy to realize but he’d swiped left on the screen and opened the camera, giggling slightly as he pressed the red, enticing record button. You didn’t realize he was recording so you moaned his name, and you moaned desperately, wishing he’d moved his hips again with that same needy vigor he had before. Now he was simply rolling your hips against his, the phone stuck on where you sucked him in so good.

“That’s it, say my name,” Beomgyu grinned, moving the camera to sit on the pillow beside your head, getting the view of your fucked out face and his own evil grin. You saw yourself, dumb expression embarrassingly staring back at you, then you saw Beomgyu, wrapping his hands around your waist as he pulled out, leaving just the tip in, eyes falling to the camera again, “What, shy now? Baby, c’mon, don’t be scared…” Beomgyu slammed himself inside of you and this time, the embarrassment you felt melted away, your nails clawing at the sheets. Beomgyu had no shame in this; if anything he felt glee. Pure pride that he’d finally gotten you.

When he saw that video Jeongin sent him a few weeks prior he swore he’d never felt a rage like that; this was just revenge, and it was better than heaven. He hoped that Jeongin would receive this at the worst time; he hoped that he’d feel even a fraction of what Beomgyu had felt just a few weeks ago. Jealous didn’t even begin to describe it.

#txt smut #txt x reader #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu x reader #jeongin smut #i.n smut #skz smut #skz hard thoughts

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saphronethaleph · 9 hours

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“There are… rumours, in the Senate, about Master Kenobi,” Palpatine confided. “Many believe he is not fit for this assignment.”

“Not fit?” Anakin repeated. “Why would anyone think that?”

Palpatine spread his hands slightly. “They say his mind has become fogged by the influence of a certain female Senator.”

Anakin blinked.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Who?”

“No one knows who she is,” Palpatine said, slyly. “Only that she is a Senator.”

“Oh, okay then,” Anakin replied. “It’s complete nonsense.”

Palpatine frowned.

“You seem very certain about that, Anakin,” he noted.

“Yeah, but rumours are usually pretty specific about details like that,” Anakin shrugged. “It’s a rumour in the Senate, right? So it’s a rumour about a Senator, too.”

Palpatine began to object, then paused.

“Well, yes, but not specifically-” he began.

“Are there rumours about a Senator whose judgement has been impaired because she’s sleeping with a Jedi?” Anakin went on. “Because if there is then we just line them up and that explains who it is. Or who it’s supposed to be.”

He frowned, minutely. “My money’s on Mon Mothma, honestly. Or Bail Organa. Are we sure the rumour said female?”

Palpatine raised a hand.

“Well-” he began, but Anakin was already standing up.

“Actually, I’m going to ask someone else about this,” he said. “See you later, Chancellor!”

“Anakin, I’m trying to-” Palpatine said, but he was talking to an empty office.

“Really?” Padme asked, then shook her head. “No, that’s not one I’ve heard.”

“You’re sure it’s not one that’s passed you by?” Anakin asked. “I don’t know how much Senators talk to one another.”

“We do it a lot,” Padme told him dryly. “It’s the main thing we have time to do. Are you sure the rumour said female? Because I’m getting a lot of my information from Bail Organa, and he’d be my first guess.”

“He was my second,” Anakin told his wife. “But, no, Palpatine was sure it was a female senator.”

“Then I’m out of ideas,” Padme said. “I’d have thought Mon Mothma, but she’s happily married to Perrin Fertha and he looks more like Qui-Gon Jinn than Obi-Wan.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Anakin said. “And, honestly, I don’t really believe it myself… he didn’t shack up with Satine even when it would have been a net benefit to the Order and the Galaxy and stuff.”

He frowned. “Unless…”

“Unless?” Padme asked. “That sounds like you’ve had an idea, Ani.”

“What about if the rumour was trying to throw me off?” Anakin asked. “I heard it from the Chancellor, but maybe he has another reason to say it. He is a politician… maybe Obi-Wan is seeing Palpatine, and the female senator bit was to throw me off?”

Padme blinked.

“I’m fairly sure they don’t like one another very much?” she tried.

“That’s just what they want us to think, right?” Anakin asked. “Think about it! That’s actually a way better way to disguise a relationship than what we’ve been doing.”

He glanced at Padme. “What have we been doing to disguise our relationship, actually? I’m sure there’s something.”

“We don’t tell anyone that we’re married?” Padme said. “It’s worked so far.”

“True,” Anakin agreed, relieved. “I’m glad we’re doing something.”

Padme smiled, then her smile turned into a frown. “Now I think about it, I can’t remember a time when Palpatine was interested in women – as a Senator or as a Chancellor. So it’s not immediately wrong… I just can’t think of a time he was interested in men either.”

Anakin looked thoughtful. “I think… I’m trying to think of a time he’s looked at Obi-Wan that way, but the only person I can think of he looked at that way is me…”

Obi-Wan’s commlink rang, and he nearly crashed his starfighter into the raw matter of hyperspace itself.

“What is it?” he asked, picking up the commlink in one hand.

“Master!” Anakin said. “I think Palpatine is just using you to get to me!”

Obi-Wan, who had no context whatsoever, just sort of stared for several seconds.

“What?” he said, then noticed that the nav computer was giving him urgent warnings and yanked back on the hyperdrive lever. His Actis fighter dropped out of hyperspace, and he disengaged from the hyperspace ring with the practised motion of someone who had become very, very good at a thing they fundamentally didn’t like doing very much.

“I thought about how he’s been looking at me,” Anakin explained. “Whatever he’s told you, I don’t think it’s real.”

“Anakin, what are you-” Obi-Wan began, then paused. “Actually… wait.”

“What?” Anakin asked. “You don’t believe me?”

“I am trying to think,” Obi-Wan answered. “And fly a ship, as well. I have a job to do before Cody gets here.”

“All right, Master, I’ll wait,” Anakin said. “But this is important. I don’t want your heart to be broken.”

“My – no, this is important, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied. “You killed Dooku, correct?”

“This seems completely irrelevant, but yes,” Anakin answered. “Why?”

“I was thinking about something Dooku told me once,” Obi-Wan told Anakin. “He said that Darth Sidious had control of a lot of Senators.”

“Still not seeing the connection, unless you think those Senators have been seducing you,” Anakin replied.

“I think the Chancellor is Sidious,” Obi-Wan declared. “And, Anakin, you’re going to have to tell the Council and get help sorting it out, I am landing in less than two minutes.”

Anakin was silent for several seconds of those less than two minutes.

“If you want to break up with him, Master, you don’t need the whole Jedi Council to do it for you,” he said. “And if you think he’s hideous, why did you start sleeping with him in the first place?”

“Put Padme on the line,” Obi-Wan suggested. “No, wait.”

“Waiting, Master,” Anakin replied.

Obi-Wan took a deep, calming breath.

“Put your wife on the line,” he resumed. “Or, if she’s not there, tell her that I’m fairly sure Chancellor Palpatine is the other Sith we’ve been looking for. And get her to call a vote of no confidence, she’s good at those.”

Satisfied that that would buy him the time he needed, he began making his final landing approach.

It was only a shame he wouldn’t get to see their faces, really. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #padme naberrie #padme skywalker #palpatine #obi wan kenobi #Palpy's rumour backfired again

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