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poguesprincess · 2 months

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a lot of rafe writers do rafe x soft!reader. what do you think about rafe with a bad ass reader who doesn’t take shit from no one especially rafe? you can do headcannons or a blurb i don’t mind. thanks!

- 💌 (can i be if it’s not taken)

the way i just posted about this concept before seeing ur ask!! our brains ..

and yes, you absolutely can!!

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

it drives him absolutely mad, but he can’t seem to find it in him to ‘fix’ it. he calls it an attitude problem, but you don’t see it that way.

half your relationship is frustrated groans and grumbles from the boy— who’s just as difficult as you are, for the record. he’s always mumbling a string of curses and complaints (“dont know why i put up with your ass”) when you say or do something he doesn’t like.

when he first met you, he thought he could flip the switch in your brain eventually and get you to listen to him, but you were stubborn, and he was quick to realize that there was little to nothing he could do about it. there wasn’t a moment you didn’t do exactly what it was you wanted to do, and while it raises his cholesterol and creases the stressed lines of his forehead a little deeper— he gets caught up on how pretty you are, and how precious your doe eyes are, the way your eyelashes frame the large, demanding orbs— and then he’s too far gone to register that you’re completely disrespecting him.

don’t even get him started on how you dress— the scraps of fabric you call clothes and are so adamant on wearing in public have him on high alert at all times, constantly scoping out the scene to make sure no eyes are on his girl. he’s hardly ever seen without a possessive hand on your ass (that you’ll smack away every once in a while, just to tease him. “hands on your own cargo, playboy”, you’ll tell him).

“can’t you wear some fuckin’— normal clothes for once?” he whispers agitatedly into your ear. it gets you going how easy it is to rile him up sometimes.

when he tells you to slow down on the drinking when you’re partying, or orders you to sit on his lap when he’s dragged you to topper’s or kelce’s— and he’s met with your middle finger absently flung in the air in his direction, his jaw ticks.

“show some respect, will you?”

“why, cause you’re a man, ‘n that makes you the boss of me?” it always makes topper snicker.

“you— you’re fuckin’— insufferable, you know that? can’t fuckin’ listen to me for once in your life can you?”

you’ve heard it a million times, and you roll your eyes. you don’t even bother to look at him, and he could just about lose it. he doesn’t know why he puts up with you.

“y’aint the boss f’me rafey. ‘s time someone humbled you.” even the way you mumble it is laced with insubordination.

he lets out a frustrated huff, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he eyes you— his patience is running thin. you dont even flinch when he surges towards you, tugging you into a separate room to “talk you down” (it never works), face squished between his fingers painfully as he forces you to meet his gaze.

“i oughta fuck that attitude right out of you, huh? would teach you to stop actin’ like a spoiled brat.”

you smile, and his self control slips as the dopey, brattiness of it makes his dick harden. that teasing, defiant smile. when he fucks you, it’s like a challenge to see who’ll back down first. he always gets you right on the cusp of breaking before he hears what he wants to.

“you gonna listen to me, now?” the way he pounds into you and hits that spot every time has you nodding incessantly, moans spilling from your swollen lips without control. he’ll try and get you to say it out loud for him, but he still fails. you’ve got some bite left in you. it’s only when you’re screaming his name until he’s satisfied.

you’re trouble, but he just can’t seem to let you go. ‘specially not when you’re the best fuck he’s ever had in his life.

#꒰ ۫ ੭ requests! ୨ৎ ꒱#💌 nonnie!#εïз rafe prompt !#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe cameron prompt

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lumineary-arts · 5 months

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There's a severe lack of Bunnydoll content from me despite the fact that right now they're on my brain 24/7. I really oughta fix that!! D: Just for the record: this was Jax's idea.

#glitch productions #the amazing digital circus #tadc #gooseworx #tadc jax #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #jax x ragatha #jaxatha #bunnydoll #raggedyrabbit

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macfrog · 5 months

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wish you were here | one shot

thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.

word count: 1.9k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤎

Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.

A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.

Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.

We come to stuff.

When’s the last time you came to anythin’?

We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.

What – five months ago?

We like alone time.

Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.

Alone time – together.

Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.

He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.

It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

‘s freezing, pretty bird.

Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.

You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?

His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.

You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.

Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.

You ask him softly, Will you play me something?

His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.

I’m serious.

What do you wanna hear?

That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.

Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.

You know the one.

I know the one.

Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?

Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.

Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.

And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.

You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.

Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.

There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.

Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.

The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.

Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.

He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.

And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.

He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.

Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.

Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.

He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.

So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –

Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.

Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?

His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.

His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.

It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.

What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –

Wish you were here.

He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.

That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.

You nod. Only when you sing it.

I like the way we sound together.

You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.

His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.

I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.

You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.

Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.

You know, too. Mhm.

Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.

It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.

Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.

#happy max monday is this becoming a thing? can i claim mondays? boomtown rats move the fuck over #i just wanted to sit between joel miller's legs and look up at him all dumb and in love ok?#joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #jackson!joel #joel miller fluff

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touyasdoll · 2 years

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Kinktober Door #1: Body Worship

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (f!receiving), soft/intimate sex, this got sappier than I intended

Notes: I just miss Bakugou I think lmao not a very kinky start to my kinktober, but oh well. Enjoy <3

Katsuki is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the evening news droning on in the background when you plop yourself right into his lap.

You gently guide his phone away from his face and straddle him, winding your arms around his neck like you have so many times before.

“Can I help you?” He asks as his hands gravitate to your hips, his eyes drawn to the pensive expression painted on your face.

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

He’s practically insulted by the idea that you would even ask.

“The fuck d’ya mean do I love you? Course I fuckin’ do. What kinda question even is that?”

There’s a pout on his lip when he asks and you kiss it away.

“Why aren’t you payin’ attention to me then?” You muse as your hands card through his blonde locks. “I miss you.”

“I’m sittin’ right here and you’re on my lap. What makes you think I don’t love you?” His brow cocks as his large hands slide over your hips to grip your ass and his hips shift up into yours. “You want attention, huh? Baby, all you had to do was ask.”

And with that, he stands, effortlessly lifting you up onto his waist as he carries you off towards the bedroom, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“M’askin’ now.” You grin, tightening your arms around his neck while your legs lock around his waist. “I miss you, Kats.”

“I know, princess,” he says softly, stealing a chaste kiss when he stills through the door. “But we’re gonna fix that, ‘kay?”

He lays you down, wasting no time as he crawls up your body to attach his lips to your neck, kissing along your skin in all the right places.

“M’gonna show you just how much I love every fuckin’ bit of you, so you never have to ask me that stupid fuckin’ question again,” he murmurs as his lips hover over your pulse point, nipping at the thrumming beneath his lips.

“Baby,” you whine softly, hands traveling over his bare chest as you tilt your head to the side and he takes the opportunity to kiss his way towards your collarbone.

“Do I love you,” he scoffs, shaking his head as warm, calloused palms slip beneath your top, making quick work of stripping it off of you before he sits up to kneel between your legs and rake his eyes over your body. “You got no fuckin’ clue how much I love you. I don’t think you ever will.”

His mouth finds your breasts next, mawing at the soft flesh while he free them from their confines.

“Let’s start here,” he whispers, hot breath against your skin as he takes your nipple into his mouth. “You think I don’t love these? M’always fuckin’ starin’ at ‘em. Waitin’ for the next chance I get to do this.”

His teeth catch and pull gently, sending delicious shivers down your spine while your hands knit into his hair.

“And you think I don’t love this pussy of yours?” He pulls back to look down at you as if you’d tried to assert that the sky isn’t blue. “Like my dick doesn’t twitch every fuckin’ time I think about it.”

You gasp as his hand slips into your pants and under your panties to drag his finger between your folds. Your hands grasp at his forearms, hips shifting forward to chase his touch as the pad of his digit presses against your slick entrance.

“K-Katsuki,” you whisper, voice trembling as you teen with anticipation and all you’re met with is his smug smirk.

“You oughta know better, so I’m gonna show you exactly how much I love this sweet fuckin’ cunt of yours.”

It’s a promise. One that he clearly intends to make good on, but not without having his fun tormenting you first.

“Whaddya want, princess? You want me inside you?” His voice drops as he leans in close enough that you can feel his breath on your chin. “Which part, huh?”

His lips come so close to yours, but he doesn’t close the distance and when you try, he pulls back.

“C’mon, baby. Use your words. Which part of me do you want in your pussy first? Because you’re getting all of ‘em,” he insists as his fingers migrate to your clit, drawing it in slow, agonizing circles.

“Fingers. Please,” you beg, shifting your hips again as a moan is pulled from your lungs.

“Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding you by slipping his middle finger right where you want it most. “Like this?”

“More, please,” you implore, sighing with relief as he indulges you and adds another.

“Gettin’ greedy already?” He smirks, slowly postponing his fingers in and out of you and his lips finally meet with yours. “You have any idea how hard you’re makin’ me? Just feelin’ your insides—hell. Just lookin’ at cha makes me wanna shove my cock in ya already. It’s hard keepin’ my hands to myself when we’re out, y’know. Watchin’ everybody look at you, but they don’t get to have this.”

His teeth catch your bottom lip as his fingers start to move faster and your spine bows beneath him. His warm, wet mouth is on your breasts again, smothering them with kisses and love bites as he relishes in the feeling of you writhing beneath his touch.

“S’all fuckin’ mine. And I’ll be damned if you don’t understand how much I treasure every single inch of you.”

Before you know it, his tongue is between your thighs, expertly spelling out all the declarations that he’s made. His tongue delves inside of you, nose bumping your clit as a groan vibrates against your core.

“Fuck. Like I wouldn’t love a pussy that tastes this sweet,” he huffs a laugh and licks a stripe up your center, letting the tip of his tongue toy with your clit.

“Katsuki,” you whine, breath escaping in an airy whisper.

The sound of his name on your lips spurs him on and he starts devouring you like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. It’s sloppy, but it’s glorious. Your fingers knit into his hair, desperate for something to hold onto you when that familiar feeling threatens to have you spiraling out of control.

“Baby. B-baby, I—fuck!” Your hips buck and his hands seize them, wrapping around your thighs to lock them down into place as he continues his efforts.

He doesn’t relent when you slap your hands to the sheets, nor when your cries echo off of the walls. It isn’t until tears run over your cheeks and your hips nearly break free of his grasp that he finally lets go and sits back on his haunches. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, revealing a smug grin as he climbs over you, staring down at your trembling form with pride gleaming in his carmine gaze.

“You okay, baby?” His voice is softer when he leans down to brush the tip of his nose against yours.

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes closed and mind still reeling when you open them again as he captures your mouth.

You taste yourself on his lips, sticky and sweet, and then again on his tongue when he works it into your mouth. Your arms wind around his neck, holding him close as he shuffles out of his sweatpants, suddenly desperate to be inside you as your mouths work against one another in a struggle for dominance.

“I love you,” he breathes out, panting when he breaks away.

His forehead falls against yours and his hand cups your face. He decides that his primal urges can wait a moment.

“I love you more than anything. And for more than just your body, y’know.”

His thumb glides against your cheek as he pulls back to look at you, his eyes searching your face. A perfect face, he thinks. You can feel your cheeks filling with warmth and the urge to look away, but you know better. He won’t let you hide from him like that.

“I love the way you laugh. The way you smile,” he goes on, a fond smile ever present on his lips. “The way you never hesitate to yell at me when I’m bein’ an ass.”

You laugh and look away, but he gently tilts your face back to focus on him, mirroring your amused smile.

“I love how smart you are. How hard you work. The way you can always make me laugh. Even the annoying shit you do that I pretend like I can’t stand,” he chuckles. “I love all that too. I love every last fuckin’ thing about you, baby. And I always will.”

“I love you too, Katsuki,” you say softly, resting your hand over the one on your face. “I love you so much.”

“I know ya do,” he whispers, his tender smile leaving a kiss on your forehead as he takes your hands in his, intertwining them as he repositions himself between your legs.

He slowly nudges himself inside you, sighing with relief when he feels the comforting warmth of your walls hugging him tight and you respond in kind, a gentle gasp leaving your lungs as your brows pinch together.

His intention is everything it wasn’t only moments ago. It’s careful and purposeful. His hips roll at a steady pace, each thrust deliberately bringing you closer to euphoria as your bodies meld together like they were made for one another.

“I love you,” he whispers in your ear, trailing kisses along your jaw as he increases the tempo.

“I love you too,” you murmur back, breath catching in your throat as you squeeze his hands tight, moaning as you begin to feel that thrumming in your ears again. “Katsuki, oh my God.”

“I know, baby. I know,” he pants, giving your hands a gentle squeeze as he drives you both right up to the edge. “Fuck, I love you.”

A few more thrusts is all it takes to do you both in. You come undone with a sob and he folds his arm beneath you, keeping one hand tight around yours while he holds you close. He grunts, hips stuttering as he pours himself into you.

You both lay there for a moment, collecting yourselves through the haze of bliss with no shortage of tender touches and contented bums.

He eventually falls to the side of you to pull you against his chest and kiss the top of your head while his fingertips glide along your spine, your nerves still singing a beautiful chorus of elation.

“Still think I might not love you?” He murmurs into your hair.

“No,” you giggle, nuzzling your face into his chest while your arm folds over his middle. “I know you do.”

If you enjoyed this, likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading <3

#kinktober 👻#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader smut #bakugou x reader smut #bakugo x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 12 days

Text

you oughta know: part I

Spring Break

series masterlist

foreword: since Eddie Munson is our collective Ken doll to dress up as we please I present to you my new and improved: dirtbag!college!Eddie. now with 50% more tattoos and a splash of 90s grunge college academia aesthetic.

cw: drinking, intoxication, R has breasts, R and Eddie are slut4slut in this

___

The bass on this houseparty’s stereo pumps through the floorboards, rattling every wall of the building. Hiding out in the less-stimulating kitchen seems like a good option for tonight.

Apparently, this other guy thinks so, too, ‘cuz soon it’s just you and him across the counter from another. He’s handsome, actually. Moonlight from a window above the sink highlights strong cheekbones and a sharp cupid’s bow as he helps himself to a glass from the cupboard.

Slinking out from elbow-rolled shirtsleeves are thick, dark vine tattoos; they wind around his forearms, smattered with hair and freckles, the ink trailing to end at his wrists.

You lean forward onto the counter separating you two (well aware that you’re spilling out of your top), then tip the neck of your beer bottle at him- “Eddie?”

He spins to face you, raises a pretty brow, long lashes sweeping over auburn eyes- “Uh- maybe? Who wants to know, dollface.”

A scrunch of distaste with your nose at the nickname, you barrel through the discomfort- “Oh, I thought it might be you. I’m Robin’s roommate. She said her weed guy had cool tattoos.”

The guy’s face lights up with a lopsided smile, dimples peeking out as he preens, “So you think they’re cool?”

You roll your eyes, take an unamused sip of beer, press a bit further into your hands on the counter. A little thrill at your small victory- his eyes flicking down once, twice, to your cleavage- you ride the alcohol-gifted looseness and adrenaline. “Psst. Hey. My eyes are up here, perv.”

It’s a tease. A goad masked as chiding. Eddie sets his glass of water down, doe eyes fixed on yours, not falling for the trap of your quick inhale- “You seriously sayin’ that to me, when you’re the one with your tits out?”

He tsks, walks those big boots over, leanin’ in to your counter space, close enough to smell the spice of his cologne- “Would almost think you like the attention.”

You swallow hard. Hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, bust still on display- “Yeah, and you’d probably like to be the one to give it to me. In your dreams, pal.”

It’s getting harder to play hard-to-get as Eddie bumps his hip against yours. The whites of his eyes are slightly bloodshot (you can smell the heady undercurrent of weed wafting from his clothes), while the black of his pupils are already blown out with feverish lust. “C’mon, have a heart, angel. Can’t fault a boy for dreamin’.”

And goddammit if you don’t melt for that line. (He really is a rather great lyricist, as you’ll come to find out this upcoming semester.)

In retrospect, you’ll never admit it, but you did make the first move- pressed him right up against Linda Satler’s kitchen counter and kissed him, with tongue. Robin walked in on the two of you and got in a full shriek before either of you realized someone else had come in, jumping apart like two children caught arms-deep in a cookie jar.

“God, gross,” she gags, louder than the wave of sound flooding in from the open door. She crosses the room in a few swift strides and plucks at your elbow, a reproachful whisper- “I sent you to get weed, not to make out with the dealer!”

“I am getting weed, Robin,” you insist, patient but firm, pulling from her grasp to turn back to Eddie, teeth worrying at your bottom lip that shimmers with mixed saliva as you ask, sweet and simply- “Can I please have some weed?”

It wasn’t actually your plan to butter Eddie up for a better price (another fact you’d remain stoically opposed to, later), but he gave it to you, all the same- a laughably low amount for a bundle of pre-rolls.

Robin’s eyes bug out at the amount he hands it over- then she smoothly pockets the goods and pats you on the shoulder. “Okay. My mistake. I actually love that you’re both getting acquainted in this manner. You have my blessing to do it a bunch more, just- not when I’m in the room. M’kay?”

She grins cheekily at Eddie before looping her arm in yours, pulling you with her towards the door- you call out before it closes behind you both, “Robin’s number is our landline! You can call me there, if you want!”

Eddie stands still for a few moments after you’re swallowed up by the noise of the party, palm flat to the twinge in his chest. Cupid’s arrow, he can feel it sinking in.

He’s an RA, this semester. Really can’t afford to be seeing cute girls and selling them weed- at least, not at the same time. Gotta straighten up a bit over Spring Break, he thinks.

Then he cracks the window open. Lights up a joint. Smokes out into the fresh night air and tries really hard to think of anything other than your tits. (A game of mostly losses.)

#upcoming fic #dirtbag!Eddie #college au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 13 days

Text

This Didn't Happen

Notes: Just a silly thing; prompts 7 & 15 taken from this Morning After prompt list.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Sexual implications; behavior expected of our fave billionaire stinky bastard man

Summary: Had you gone to the conference planning to sleep with Nathan Bateman? No.

Had you? Yes.

Were you regretting it? Absolutely.

"Stop smiling at me."

"I'm not smiling."

"Yes you are."

"How do you know? You're not even looking at me."

"I don't need to look at you, I can feel it from here." You tried to smooth your rumpled clothing before drawing in a deep breath to steady yourself, gathering your thoughts.

Had you gone to the conference planning to sleep with Nathan Bateman? No.

Had you? Yes.

Were you regretting it? Absolutely.

The sex had been (insanely, mind-bogglingly) good. You were still sensitive, still buzzing from your orgasm as you tried to plan a graceful exit. It was proving difficult, given the circumstances—but there was no smooth way to dip out of a one night stand. Almost all of the conference attendees were staying at the same hotel as you were. What if you ran into someone that you knew in the hallway? Your wrinkled clothes would give you away immediately.

You gathered your courage before you forced yourself to turn and look at him.

Nathan was smiling—lounging in the bed with a satisfied smirk as he put his glasses back on and fixed you with a knowing gaze. You wanted to slap the look off of his face, but some part of you was certain that he would enjoy it. Not only was he smiling, but he looked criminally gorgeous. His cheeks were still slightly flushed from exertion; his forehead was still dotted with sweat; you were trying to ignore the few streaks of irritated skin where your nails had dug into his shoulder.

"We're not gonna cuddle?" He teased, brows waggling. You scoffed, turning away and beginning to hunt around his hotel room for your shoes.

"Listen, Bateman—"

"You have my attention."

"Good, 'cause I'm really gonna need you to focus up right now." You faced him again, planting your hands on your hips and forcing a stern set to your brow. "This didn't happen. Got it?"

"Didn't it?"

"No."

Nathan blinked at you a couple of times, lips curling into a teasing smile as he glanced toward to marks on his shoulder.

"Huh. Then I wonder where these came from."

"The mystery may never be solved." Son of a bitch, where are you goddamn shoes—

"So if anyone asks what we got up to this evening—?"

"Make something up," You snapped.

"What's your alibi?"

"I'll figure it out when I get back to my room."

"What if you run into someone in the elevator and they ask?"

"I'll make something up."

"You oughta brainstorm now. You don't improvise well."

"Thanks for the tip."

"They're under the desk."

"What?"

"Your shoes."

You went still, slowly glancing in that direction, and wincing when you spotted them. How the hell did they get under there?

"You kicked them off," Nathan added. "Almost broke your neck. Remember?"

You ignored the goad, picking them up and hurriedly pulling them on before heading for the door. You heard the rustle of sheets as Nathan pushed them off of his lap and stood.

"Hey," He called out.

"What?"

"You sure this never happened?"

"Positive."

You reached for the doorknob, freezing as Nathan crowded up against your back. You shivered at the feeling of his body pressing against yours, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"I hope it doesn't happen again sometime," He murmured. You began to turn to look back at him, only to spot yourself in a small mirror by the door. Your eyes narrowed as you spotted a mark blooming on your neck, and you couldn't stop yourself from whirling around to look at him.

"Did you really have to leave a giant hickey on my neck?!"

Nathan smirked, gaze sweeping over your face before he tipped his head to the side, getting a better look at the hickey.

"What makes you think I did that?"

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @writefightandflightclub ; @thedukeofcaladan ; @beepboopyoda ; @foxilayde ; @rachelwritesstuff

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #prompts

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oliveisme533 · 3 months

Text

My dad's neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 2

Joel Miller x you

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

Warnings: Verbally abusive boyfriend. Talks of mental health and self harmI will put a sign for what paragraph to skip if you want to avoid that content

Of fucking course Ben would call you... your rub your temple and groan. "It's too late for this shit" you mutter to yourself and flick off the light with a little more force than you intended.

Sunday morning you slept in. It wasn't until about 11:00 that you heard your dad banging around in the kitchen downstairs. You drag yourself out of bed, highly motivated by the smell of coffee making its way to your nose. As your feet hit the landing toilet freeze, the fog of sleep dissipates instantly and your insides turn to liquid. "It's really no problem! I can have it fixed in a couple hours, plus you don't want to wait around with that kind of shit. It can turn into a much bigger problem real quick if you don't take care of it soon" that was Joel's voice. What is Joel doing in your kitchen at 11am on a Sunday?!! Especially when he was just here..last night? Do him and my dad really spend that much time together?? You contemplate running back upstairs but then your dad catches a glimpse of you before you can execute your plan. "Well hey babydoll! Didn't know if you were still alive up there" you offer him a grunt in response as you make your way to the coffee pot. "Good morning to you too" he laughs. "Oh hey, the water is going to be shut off in a bit because there's a leak in the water pipes upstairs. Joel said he would take care of it so water should be back on in an hour or so." "Do you just call Joel instead of a plumber these days?" You question your dad with a raised eyebrow. He chuckles "no, I basically sent him a text this morning asking for his opinion on whether or not this needed to be fixed asap or it was no big deal. I was going to call someone on Monday, but he insisted". Your dad lowered his voice slightly as he then said "between you and me...I think he's trying to stay real busy these days. I know having Sarah with her mom for the summer has been a really hard adjustment for him" that seemed logic enough to you and you said as much to your dad before Joel came back through the front door carrying several tools.

"Well good morning sunshine" he said with a smile that stirred inside of you. "One of these days I oughta teach your dad how to be useful around the house so he can carry on without me" "yeah you two are like a married couple" you joked. Joel chuckled "mmm well who could resist this handsome man" he said gesturing to himself. You rolled your eyes "you're old" it was a cheap shot, but also you secretly would admit his age because you were curious. He laughed and said "yeah Sarah says the same to me" but he didn't say anything else. He walked out of the kitchen and began up the stairs towards the leaky pipe or whatever the hell he was here to fix. As soon as he was out of sight you flung your head back "why...why couldn't dad just call a freakin plumber" you resolved to deal with the Ben situation after you had some breakfast in your stomach. It was not something you were particularly looking forward too, but you knew he wouldn't let up until you responded. Sure you could block him, but it wasn't like he was some tinder date gone wrong. You two had spent years together, not to mention you were adults who needed to handle the situation like adults and not take the easy way out.

After breakfast you found an outfit that wasn't an old t-shirt and shorts with little owls on them. You were still mortified that Joel saw this look. "Okay you can do this" you breathed, picking up your phone and tapping Ben's name." Of course he picked up almost immediately. "Hey.. how are you?" You responded politely, but quickly veered the conversation to what he really wanted to talk about. "Well, I've been thinking. I really think you and I are meant to be together. It just feels right, and I know I haven't always been the best at showing up or just being a good boyfriend in general, but now I really feel I'm ready for that level of commitment" there was a short pause

"listen, Ben ... I just don't see it that way. I've spent too much time over the years being disappointed by your actions. I've broke my own heart so many times because I convinced myself you were really going to change and then to I didn't. I can't do that anymore. We're too old for this. I'm glad you feel like you're ready to commit and I hope you find a girl who is too, but at this point in my life I just can't offer you that." You had feared he would be angry, but weren't prepared for what came next. ⚠️CW⚠️ "Are you fucking serious?? Like after all these years you're just going to throw all that away?! Like honestly I didn't need to come back and give you another chance but I did and" "GIVE ME another chance?!! What the fuck Ben..HOW do you even see it that way??" "WHAT DO YOU MEAN??" He shouted back "babe I have put up with so much of your shit over the years and now I'm saying that it doesn't matter and I'm going to stick around regardless of all that!" Oh now he has crossed a line "MY SHIT?! WHAT, PRAY TELL ARE YOU REFERRING TOO?!" "I have had to do SO MUCH for you like when your mental health is bad you just shut off completely. It's like trying to be in a relationship with a fucking wall! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD THAT IS...WHAT KIND OF TOLL THAT TAKES ON ME." Hot tears of anger were streaming down your cheeks. "I CANNOT believe you said that! Did you ever consider how hard it is FOR ME in those times?! Like honestly Ben you only think about yourself." "Oh really is that why I took off work so I could drive you to the hospital when you slit your wrists and you called me, crying?? Obviously that shows I care for you! You cannot tell me I only care about myself when I had to do that kind of shit for you!" Your chest was now rising and falling very rapidly. You certainly were not thinking about how loud you were being right now, but luckily your dad was outside mowing the lawn, well out of earshot. "Ben that is the bare MINIMUM A PERSON CAN DO. Like you're really hanging that over my head??! fucking grow up! God FORBID YOU TAKE THE TIME TO DRIVE ME TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM DURING THE WORK DAY. How about we talk about all the shit I've done for YOU over the years." You could now hear him laughing. A hollow laugh, but a laugh all the same. "Oh DONT EVEN. What could you POSSIBLY have done to compare to me being your GODDAMN NURSE when you're a grown adult." It was all too much. You were all but sobbing at this point. "You are such an ASSHOLE Ben! Don't EVER call me again! THIS IS OVER. I will NEVER love you and you will NEVER speak to me this way again. If you so much as text me...I'm going to get fucking restraining order!" You choked out. "A RESTRAINING ORDER ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?? My dads a literal LAWYER you know that right babe?! I'm NOT going to let that happen!" "Do you even hear yourself right now??! LEAVE ME THE. FUCK. ALONE."

End of CW

You hang up the call and crumple to your bed with heaving sobs. You are interrupted by a knock on your door. Presuming it's your dad you walk over to open in and all but fling yourself out the door way knowing he's standing right then ready to hold you. Hug you and tell you everything will be okay like you're 13 or something. The blurred your vision and it was not your dad on the other side of the door. Your head hit his chest and you flung your arms up around his neck. "Dad I hate boys!" You sobbed. But then you realized the height wasn't right, the smell wasn't right, the arms and chest weren't right...

you practically jumped backwards and to your horror saw Joel Miller standing before you. His soft puppy dog eyes heavy with concern and care. "I-um sorry. I assumed it was my dad or I never would have" Joel held up a hand to cut you off. "It okay, you don't need to apologize...I've got a daughter of my own don't think I haven't had the same hug and those same tears." His voice was soft and gentle, and he smiled at the last comment. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." You could only nod. "It's none of my business, but this guy sounds like bad news and it's a matter of your safety...does your dad know about all this?" You nodded again. "Yes he knows about Ben...although I'll need to update him on the new low that Ben stooped to today. But my dad knows and I feel safe...and in blocking Ben's number." Joel's brows were knit together. "Okay...I don't need to know about but your dad does and it sounds like you've got a good thing going there." You felt awkward and more than anything wanted to disappear and forget this interaction ever took place. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and picked at your fingers "um yeah I think everything with be fine now" you said awkwardly. "Alright well I apologize for intruding into your private life, but I'm glad you're safe and under your dads roof." He started to walk away when you heard yourself say "Thank you Joel..I really appreciate it."he smiled at you and said "don't mention it" "You better finish up fixing that leak before my dad finds something else to break." Joel laughed "don't worry I'm just about done and I'll be out of yalls way in a jiffy." What a day... and it's only noon

#lovers #joel tlou #joel miller #smut #fanfic #joel and ellie #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff

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miintsprigz · 2 months

Note

Hi! I was wondering if I could ask for the Demo, Engie, and Heavy for the fear-punch prompt if that's okay. Thank you!

FINALLY WRITING THIS. I appreciate your patience so much, Anon. It means the world to me.

GN!Reader fear punching the Mercs, part 2

Characters: Demoman, Engineer, Heavy (Team Fortress 2)

Warnings: uh some stuff relating to anxiety/panic attacks, cuz fear response.

Part 1 can be found linked below!

Demo ⚔️

You finally had the base to yourself, or at least, you thought so. Everyone had been all up in arms lately, it was just exhausting. Having fixed a cup of your preferred hot drink, you went to walk back to your room.

A door suddenly opened loudly behind you, and with your free hand, you swung, not even registering what you were doing until your fist made contact.

“Hey—oof!”

Your mug clattered to the floor, breaking and spilling everywhere.

“Demo!?”

“…oh! Did I scare ya there? Sorry ‘bout that!” His eye caught the mess on the floor as you tried to catch your breath.

“…now, that won’t do—”

“Tav, lemme—”

“No, no; I scare you, you drop it, tis only fair that I clean up the mess—”

Stumbling over to the closet to grab a broom, mop, whatever else he might need—still a little hungover—Tavish got to taking care of it in no time. He worked with surprising efficiency.

“Now, we oughta replace that drink o’ yours.”

“…Tav, I’m sorry.”

“Wha? Whatever for?”

“…I punched you…” Your voice shook a bit. The guy had only just woken up, and you’d socked him in the face.

He seemed confused at first, then touched the side of his face that you’d struck tenderly, realizing.

“Ah…that ya did.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Oh no, no! That’s alright, luv. Sometimes ya just get spooked. Used to do it to me mum all the time.”

“Really?”

He smiled in a somewhat tired sort of way. “Yup. Ya’d think I’d be more careful, especially cuz she couldn’t see me, but I guess I sorta forgot m’self there.”

Demo gave you a pat on the back, gentler than the usual. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’ve definitely knocked a few lads on the floor m’self, so trust me, I get it.”

“Thanks, Demo.”

“O’course, mate!” Your hair was lightly ruffled, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Want me to help ya replace that drink though? Heh, maybe I’ll make one for me, too!”

“That might be good. Do you want some ice though?”

“…nah, nah I think I’m good.”

Engineer ⚙️

It had been such a long day. You were more exhausted than you’d thought you were capable of being.

So when you arrived back at home base, you basked in the peace and quiet and decided to kick back and read for a bit.

Hearing sudden rapid, thundering footsteps, however, your adrenaline skyrocketed again, and so when the “intruder” inevitably entered…your adrenaline did the work.

The Engineer bursted into the room, clearly quite excited about something he was working on.

“Ah, (Y/N), c’mon, I gotta show ya—agh!!”

Your eyes locked onto him, staring daggers in fright as he rubbed at his jaw, wincing.

“Now what in Sam Hill—oh. Oh no.”

Those wide, terrified eyes told him all he needed to know. He didn’t even realize how suddenly he’d come flying in…

“…oh, darlin’. I scared the daylights outta you…”

“A little…” Your voice came out as a squeak, and all at once, everything became all too much. Tears flooded your field of view.

“Honey, I’m so sorry…”

“I, I didn’t mean to hit you…”

“Shh shh shh, I know…I know, I’m okay… lemme just…”

Offering open arms to silently ask first, Engie wrapped you in a hug when you stepped closer, petting your hair softly. He didn’t say anything really, aside from the occasional coo of reassurance that it really was okay.

There was a slight sway to him as he held you, trying to soothe the sudden rush of anxiety he’d accidentally triggered.

You knew, but between the fright and the guilt you felt for socking him in the face like that when he was just excited about something…you couldn’t help but cry for a minute or two.

After a bit, he pulled back, looking almost as though he could cry himself.

“I’m…sorry about that. I wasn’t thinkin’. I know ya had a long day, I just…”

“You were just excited to show me something.” With one last sniffle, you smiled over at him. “It’s okay.”

“…would ya still wanna see? I get it if uh, you’d rather have some time alone…”

“No, no! I’d love to see…”

That warm smile returned to his face once again. “You promise you’re alright?”

“I promise, Dell.”

With a nod, he took your hand sweetly. “Well alrighty. I think you’ll really love this, (Y/N), I’ve been tinkerin’ with this new feature for weeks, and I think I finally got it down!”

Chuckling, you followed after him, feeling your frantic heart slowing once again as his fingers gave your hand a light squeeze.

Heavy 🥪

You are in the thick of it now—bombs flying all over, a hail of bullets seemingly around every corner.

Truthfully? It was too much. But you had no intention of letting the enemy team know that.

Although it seemed cowardly to you, you ducked behind a corner for a minute to just…exist uninterrupted for a moment.

Your overwhelming didn’t go unnoticed though. Help was on the way…but you were unfortunately not able to fully recognize it.

A tap on your shoulder sent the tension building in your mind over the edge. Your fist made contact with the stiff gray of Heavy’s protective vest.

“(Y/N)! Is only me! Do not be afraid. Am here to help you.” Thankfully, the person you’d struck was basically a brick house. He had hardly felt it. He didn’t look angry…actually, he seemed worried.

“Uh…Heavy?!” “Da, it is me.”

“Well. I punched a friend. Great…” Looking down at your hands as you went to pick your dropped weapon up, they were shaking.

“Hold one moment, (Y/N).”

One huge hand carefully cradled yours, holding it steady.

“All due respect, I am giant man. Is very hard to hurt me. So do not feel so bad, okay?”

You tried to breathe, and it caught in your throat. Carefully setting Sasha to the side for a moment, Heavy looked down at you. Even with the chaos nearby, his eyes were so soft when he looked at you.

“Take deep breath.”

You followed that direction as best as you could.

“Very good. Again?”

It got easier.

“Perfect. Battlefield can be scary place…I know that too. Is okay to be afraid.”

He gave you a quick hug—it seemed he really was full of surprises today. His hand practically covered your shoulder as he gave it a pat when you pulled apart again.

“You need minute? Heavy is here! Giant man is on your side, remember?”

Now that you thought about it, maybe you’d be a little more prepared if you had a minute or two to yourself. “…could I just take a second back here out of range? I know it’s kinda chicken of me—”

“Not at all, (Y/N)! What do you think I carry sandvich for! Even big strong man need break. Smaller strong one like you no different.”

To your surprise, he actually handed you half of the tasty treat in question.

“Here. Enjoy, eat, and do not worry.” Picking up his minigun, Misha gave you a determined smile. “Heavy and Sasha will crush anyone who move too close until you are ready.”

If you weren’t where you were right now, it honestly might have made you cry. “Thanks, Heavy.”

“Of course, (Y/N). You are very important to me, you know that?”

A bit of warmth rushed into your face as he gave you one last grin before walking back out from behind your little shelter to face the opposing team.

“That’s right, I AM BACK! YOU MAY NOW RUN AWAY! HAHAHAHAHA!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you took a bite of the sandwich and breathed easy, knowing nobody would get within range of you anytime soon.

Whew! I hope that was good, Anon. I had fun writing it. I’d love more Heavy, Demo, and Pyro requests! I don’t write for them much but they’re a lot of fun!

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literatecowboy · 3 months

Text

Dr. Feelgood

11. Almost Domesticity

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: Wrote most of this in a post-organic chemistry exam haze. Nearing the end! I'm thinking ~1 more chapter and than an epilogue to slap a wholesome happy ending bow on this fic. What should I write next? Trying to start/keep writing more frequently as a brain break bc all of my classes are hardcore STEM Warnings: Hospitals, minor mention of broken bone

Masterlist

-----

“Fucking– yes!” you shrieked, throwing yourself at Simon and wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tight. He chuckled, setting the box on the ground and sitting down, pulling you into his lap. He kissed you gently, tangling his fingers into your hair as you kissed him back. You pulled away and rested your forehead on his, smiling as you stroked his cheek.

“I love you, Simon,” you murmured, laying your head against his cheek and snuggling into him. He didn’t get a chance to reply before you winced and pulled away, rubbing at your cheek and giggling.

“You’re pokey, you need to shave,” you giggled, caressing his cheek. He took your hand and pressed a kiss to your wrist.

“I used to dislike my facial hair,” he mused, and you furrowed your brow.

“Oh, what happened to change your mind?” you asked, leaning your head on his chest.

“It grew on me.”

It took a moment for the joke to register and when it did your jaw fell open and you pushed away from him, unable to hide your laughter.

“You terrible man!” you shrieked. “The wedding’s off!” you giggled, turning to run out of the med bay. You only made it a few steps down the hall before he grabbed you by the waist and hefted you up from the ground, making you shriek and giggle and playfully push him away.

“Let me go!” you giggled, but he only held you tighter, cradling you as he carried you toward his bedroom.

“Not gonna happen, love. You’re all mine,” he said.

—

You and Simon were conspicuously late to breakfast in the mess the next morning, prompting grins from Soap and Gaz.

“Ye know LT, those med bay walls aren’t as thick as ye think,” Soap said. Gaz elbowed him in the side and Soap shot him a look.

“What makes you say that?” you asked, your brow furrowing as Simon sent the sergeants a withering glare.

“Guess I didn’t peg you for a giggler, that’s all,” Soap said, wiggling his eyebrows. You felt Simon tense in his seat and rested a hand on his knee.

“We weren’t having sex,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I save that for when I get the chance to visit your mother.”

This made both Soap and Gaz laugh, and Ghost relaxed under your touch, rolling his mask up to sip the tea the boys had made him. You reached into your shirt and pulled out the necklace Simon had given you the night before, letting it rest against your shirt before returning to eating your breakfast.

It took them a minute to notice it. Gaz was the first to pause, his eyes fixed on the glittering metal as he elbowed Soap.

“Ow, what was that for?” the Scot grumbled, rubbing his side. He only looked up and found what had fascinated Gaz when the other man extended a finger to point directly at the thing. They were both frozen then, eyes wide and mouths agape. Soap was the first to look up.

“Is that - are you gonna get married to the LT?” he choked, the excitement evident in his voice.

“Yup! We’re engaged now,” you said happily, leaning your head against Ghost’s shoulder. He just kept eating, ignoring the sudden commotion until Soap sprang from his seat and practically launched himself at the lieutenant.

“Well done, mate! We oughta figure out where to have the stag party!” he shouted, pulling Simon into a bear hug. Simon indulged him for a minute before shaking him off and letting him slide to the ground.

“Don’t want one,” he grumbled, downing the last of his tea and rolling his mask back down.

“Come on, LT, going into a club or something wouldn’t kill ya. Think about it - all your drinks paid for, spending time with your mates, gettin’ a good bite after - doesn’t it sound like a grand time? Won’t even hassle you about dancin’!” Soap said. Ghost thought for a moment, then shook his head with a sigh. You rested your hand on his shoulder.

“Love the enthusiasm, but why not something quieter? Hit the seaside, grill up some food, enjoy a day in the sun. Maybe a bonfire, just the lot of you spending time together.” you suggested. This made Ghost perk up a little, which made you smile.

“I’ll think about it,” he said eventually, rising from his seat at the table. “Gonna go write up mission reports.” This made Soap groan and stand as well.

“Fuck me, I’ve got recruit duty today. Just remembered. I’ll catch you later,” he said, trotting off after putting his tray in the dirty pile.

“That leaves you and me. Want to go pick up the Captain from the hospital? He’s being discharged sometime this morning - told me to show up around 9:30.” Gaz said, offering you a smile.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss seeing that old grump for anything.” you said.

—

It didn’t take long to reach the hospital, and as you were passing through the entrance, a familiar face caught your eye. The ER supervisor you had assisted previously was coming out of the doctor’s lounge, water bottle in hand, and seemed pleasantly surprised to see you.

“Good morning!” you called out, offering her a smile as you approached.

“It’s good to see you again! I’ve been meaning to call you - I heard about the court martial you’re being put through.” she said, a frown creasing your features.

“I hope it has nothing to do with you assisting us here. I haven’t been contacted for any information, but I wanted to reassure you that I’d be happy to testify to your competency and decision making skills. You and your task force have served us well and I’d love to return the favor,” she said. You froze, shocked still by her words.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your heart swelling at her kindness. “That really - it does mean a lot to me. You could really save me here.”

“What are they trying to call malpractice? I saw to your captain when he came in the other day and he told me it was a life-or-death situation. Any reasonable medical professional would’ve been forced to come to a similar conclusion.” she said.

“The charges are bogus. Someone is trying to take the doctor away from my squad. We can’t go on missions without medics nearby - it’s almost like someone is trying to keep the task force offline.” Gaz said, folding his arms, his brow furrowing.

“My opinion is that the case will get thrown out the moment the judge examines the facts in the pretrial hearing. But, if you need me, you know where to find me for testimony. And please, don’t let this scare you and your task force away from continuing to volunteer here.” the doctor said, offering a smile as she turned and headed back toward the emergency room. You smiled.

“Guess word of the 141 doing volunteer work these past few months has gotten around. You all seem to like it though, right?” you asked as you and Gaz made your way to the elevator, heading up to Price’s room.

“Honestly it’s more fun than it seemed at first. I’m glad Price signed off on letting us spend a few hours here every week. It’s refreshing.” Gaz admitted as you stepped off the elevator and turned down the first hallway.

Price was already up and out of bed, arguing with a nurse as she tried to get him to sit in a wheelchair.

“Really, this isn’t necessary, ma’am. I feel well enough to walk.” he said. The woman was unflinching, her arms folded over her chest as she nodded at the wheelchair.

“No, sit down. Would you rather spend another night here? I won’t have you collapsing in the hallway, sir.” she barked, pointing a finger at the wheelchair.

“Best listen to what she has to say, Captain. We’ve got work to do. Can’t have you stuck here for the rest of your life.” you teased. He sighed and begrudgingly sat down. The nurse passed Gaz his things in a clear plastic bag and then you all set off for the car waiting down below.

“Missed you, Cap. Got some news you might be excited about,” you said, hopping into the car and buckling your seatbelt as Price and Gaz did the same.

“Did the charges get dropped? I’ve been laid up in that bed with no intel. Laswell’s working on it but nobody would tell me anything. The nurses kept saying I need to ‘heal.’” he grumbled, gazing out the window as Gaz pulled out of the hospital lot and toward the 141’s homebase.

“Not yet, but I spoke to a colleague who said she’d be willing to testify on my behalf. It seems the charges are likely to be thrown out at the first hearing.” you said, fishing the necklace out of your shirt and turning around in your seat to show it to Price.

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning forward to get a better look at it but wincing as his abdomen contracted.

“Simon and I are getting married,” you said with a smile, taking the necklace off for him to better examine the thing. His eyes widened and a smile grew across his face as he took it in his hands, examining the delicate metal thoroughly.

“Congratulations, love, you two work well together. I’m happy I’ll have you around for good now,” he said, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiled.

“Soap wants to have a stag party for ‘im but he’s a bit resistant to the idea. Help me talk him into it?” Gaz asked, looking in the rearview mirror. Price nodded.

“Gonna talk to him as soon as we get back. Need to tell him I’m damn proud - I’m sure I can weasel in the suggestion of a little celebration.”

—

That night as you were busy treating a recruit’s broken wrist, Price slipped out of the med bay and made his way down to Ghost’s office near the back of the building. He didn’t have to knock more than once before the door opened.

“Good to see you, cap. How do you feel?” Ghost asked, showing Price inside before shutting the door and sitting back down at his desk.

“Good, now that I’m back here. Never much liked doctors or hospitals, but that woman of yours - she’s different. Makes me feel safe when she’s around.” he said, sitting heavily on the couch.

“Me too.” Ghost murmured just softly enough that Price barely heard it.

“She told me you asked her to marry you. I’m proud of you, son. You’ve got a good woman and you’re smart to keep her.” he said, producing two cigars from his pocket and offering one to Ghost, who took it and rolled up his mask.

“I love her.” Ghost admitted frankly, rolling up his mask and accepting the light offered by Price. They sat in silence for a while, smoking together.

“Soap wants to throw you a party. Doesn’t have to be anything outrageous, but you should let him. If he doesn’t throw one for you, he will for her, and who knows what kind of trouble they would get up to,” Price said.

“Was thinkin’ - have an idea for something we could do,” Ghost said, leaning back in his seat. “It’s a bit big. Would need your approval.”

“Hit me with it.” Price said.

“Want to take her back home to California for a little surprise vacation. Would bring the rest of you too. Could call that a joint stag and hen thing,” Ghost said. Price nodded.

“Good idea as usual, Simon. We’ll go as soon as everything here is settled.”

—

The next day, as you were supervising training (and occasionally joining in) an official bearing documents from the legal department came in to notify you of your court date - three weeks to the day. You were set up for an appointment with your appointed lawyer. Everything was set.

The time passed slowly. You spent your days with the 141: helping Soap and Gaz train recruits during the day before going out for drinks at night and keeping Price company as he healed and helping him manage the operations of the task force. You spent more time with Simon, though - cooking together, watching movies, going on dates and making love. You would almost use the word domestic to describe your life.

Every week you’d wrangle the boys into the car to go volunteer at the hospital. Ghost was a delight in the NICU - babies, when placed into his large arms, would stop crying instantly. Soap was a preferred playmate in the pediatric ward and thoroughly enjoyed coloring with the children. Gaz spent his time at the hospital charming elderly women in their knitting circles and modeling their creations. Price also volunteered with the elderly but spent most of his time on the ward swapping war stories with old veterans. You assisted in the emergency and trauma departments where you could, having more than earned the trust of the medical professionals there.

But the court date loomed, and before long, it arrived. You showed up to the courtroom early, the rest of the 141 at your back, but they were not allowed to sit up front with you. Instead, they sat in the bench directly behind you, all well-dressed in suits. Ghost had even swapped his balaclava for a black medical mask.

You had helped him tie his tie earlier in the morning, and he had pulled you in for a long kiss and a reassuring word before you set out.

“Whatever happens in there - whatever happens to us from here until forever - I’ve always got you.”

-----

Taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #mw2 #ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod mwii #cod x reader #call of duty #cod modern warfare #simon ghost x reader #cod

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thefreakandthehair · 6 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 18th: Journaling | Twin Size Mattress - The Front Bottoms | Introspective a/n: eddie first-person pov, stream of consciousness, post-canon fix-it, canon-typical injuries and recovery, pining, pre-steddie. this one will get a second part the week of halloween! un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

October, 1986

It’s been awhile, huh? So many blank pages between March and now. It’s kinda weird because so much has happened— things I can’t even write because of the stupid fucking NDA— but blank pages are fitting because I don’t know what to write anyways.

The hospital sucked. That’s probably obvious, especially when you’re innocent of something for once but everyone’s convinced you’re a murderer. Thank God for Wayne and Steve, pretty sure they would’ve accidentally pulled a plug or something before I woke up from the coma. I don’t have all the details, but I guess after Max woke up, Steve moved his cot into my room and struck up a pretty weird friendship with Wayne. Not sure how I feel about that yet, but he’s been around a lot more. Even now. Not sure how I feel about that yet, either.

Our trailer was wrecked but the government gave us a new one for those NDA-related reasons. Being in Hawkins is still fucking rough, kinda feels like I’m drowning most of the time, but I got a queen sized bed now. That’s a plus. Be better if Steve someone shared it with me but that’s asking for too much, right?

Survival’s a tricky thing when you make peace with the fact that you’re about to bite the dust. If I ever start writing songs again, I oughta save that line. But it is. I’m home now, the town’s rebuilding, the kids are back in school, and life moves on but what the fuck do I do with myself?

They gave me a diploma and shoved me out the door, which is great and all, but no one wants to hire the Freak Murderer. Trust me. I’ve tried. Wayne tried getting me in at the factory and was laughed damn near out the building. Robin and Steve tried getting me in at the video store but not even those two could convince that asshat, Keith. And selling is out now. That’s a given.

So what do I do? Hell if I know. But at least I’ve got pen and paper, and a new guitar to replace Sweetheart (RIP). Steve said everyone pitched in but Dustin can’t keep his mouth shut, so I know that was all Steve…

Shit. I’m writing his name a lot. That’s a bad sign. I should stop.

So yeah, pen and paper, new guitar, I’ve made so many fucking mixtapes to pass the time. And at least I’m home in time for Halloween. I wonder if horror movies will be as much fun now that I’ve been the victim of a real life slasher flick.

Guess I’ll find out.

#steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie month prompts #myblurbs

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babybluebex · 11 months

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Since you asked for requests how about just cuddling Tom grant after a hard day just in his bed in his trailer as you can hear the TV from the living area his full weight on you

charlie, my love!! thanks for sending this in! it's kinda short, more of a blurb than anything else, but i think you'll like it hehe :)

The rain beat down on the roof of the trailer, tinkling away. The day hadn’t been easy, prepping cabins and getting yelled at by your boss, and coming home was a welcome respite from the hellish day. Tom had already been home for a while by the time you got there, sitting in his tracksuit and watching telly, and, the moment you had come in and set your bag down, his big brown eyes had canvased you and he had said, “What’s wrong?”

You sighed. “A lot,” you answered honestly. “Can you just… Can we go to bed already? I’m exhausted.”

“It’s only half four, though,” Tom said. “Was it really that bad of a day?” You pushed back your rain-wet hair and nodded, and Tom frowned. “Well, that won’t do. C’mon, let’s see what we can do to fix this.”

“I really just want a cuddle,” you said softly, the words sticking in your throat. You felt silly asking for affection, and you didn’t want Tom to have to do anything he didn’t want to, but you really just needed to feel him, to feel his skin and warmth and love.

“Oh, love, I can do that, no problem,” Tom said quickly. He stood up from the small sofa and grabbed your hand, and he tugged you back to the bedroom, settling down on the small bed and pulling you on top of him. You let out a heavy breath and nestled your head into his neck, and you felt the hot pinpricks of tears hitting your eyes.

“Could you…” you started. “Lay on top of me? I just need to feel your weight.”

“Are you sure?” Tom asked.

“It’ll be the best weighted blanket ever,” you told him. “Please, Tommy?”

After a moment of contemplation, Tom turned you on your back, and he settled himself over you, tangling your legs together, and he kissed your cheek as he settled down on you. His weight felt good, not crushing but just heavy enough, and you carded your fingers through his curls absently. He really was a good boyfriend, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your arms around his middle.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Of course, love,” Tom whispered. It was quiet then, only the sound of the television in the other room, competing for sound with the rain on the tin roof. It was so calm and comforting, so gentle and loving, and your heart burst at the feeling of Tom adjusting himself to lay more comfortably, his weight settling even further on you.

“I love you,” you whispered finally, and Tom hummed softly, pressing his lips softly to your neck.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “Does this make you feel better?”

“So much better,” you told him.”You’re amazing.”

“Ah, well,” Tom mumbled. “Just doing what a good boyfriend oughta do.”

#tom grant #tom grant x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #makeup 2019 #tom grant x you #joseph quinn x you

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deke-rivers-1957 · 9 days

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Scott's World of Tomorrow

It was February 1956, a young Scott Heyward had just turned 16 years old. His father, Duster Heyward of Heyward Oil is about to spoil him.

"Well son taday's yer birthday. What do ya wanna do?"

"Can we go to Disneyland Pa? They have a whole section called Tomorrowland and a race car track called Autopia."

Mr. Heyward smiles as he claps Scott's shoulder.

"Tha's mah boy. Disneyland's gonna be a great client ta have. Can't be runnin no rides without oil."

"Yeah and maybe if they have real cars there I can take some notes for the research department."

Mr. Heyward chuckles as he goes to the phone.

"Ah'll just let yer tutor know yer goin on a field trip. That oughta make 'em happy yer doin yer science project."

"Ok, Pa."

Time Skip

"Alright then son. Ah'm gonna be talk with some a Disney's people. They said some fella named Bob Gurr's gonna be walkin ya through Autopia."

"Wow. Thanks Pa!"

Scott sits down on a bench with his camera and notepad. A young man his 20s approaches him.

"Are you Scott Heyward?"

"Yes. Are you Mr. Gurr?"

"That I am. Just call me Bob today. It's really an honor to have you and father come to the park today."

The two shake hands and start to walk to Tomorrowland.

"Now as you can see, the Moonliner was designed by one of my colleagues, John Hench and of course sponsored by Howard Hughes of Trans World Airlines."

Scott takes some pictures as they walk through the attraction. They get to the Monsanto Hall of Chemistry.

"Are you familiar with Monsanto, Scott?"

"Oh yes. I was only 7 when they had that explosion down in Texas City. Pa sent a crew to bring oil down to the site. He managed to get a deal where we can have a couple ships down at the port."

Bob nods. Eventually they make it to Autopia.

"Now this is what I helped design. I used what I learned from working with Ford."

"You worked with Ford? What did you do?"

"Well I helped design the Lincoln Continental. I published a few books on automotive design and that's what brought Mr. Disney's attention over to me. He wanted me to analyze the chassis for these cars. Originally designed by Hartmann Engineering, they were having issues regarding the ability to be mass produced. Too noisy and smokey with a lot of vibration. Eventually the company dropped out so I was brought on permanently to come up with a different design."

Scott's writing all of this down the best he can. Mr. Gurr's slowly turning into an idol.

"So where did you get the design for the cars? They don't look like anything I've ever seen."

"Take a closer look. If you're familiar with Porsche, I took the idea of their 54 550 Spyder and combined it with the recent custom made Italian Ferraris. Of course the Chevrolet Corvette also served as inspiration."

"Wow."

Bob continues telling his story. Scott listens to every word including everything about engineering he has yet to learn.

"What make are these cars now?"

"Currently these are the Mark II's. I had to fix the chassis so they can accommodate a sturdier, smoother-running engine. We've been getting a lot of youngsters so it was necessary to add booster seats and extensions on the peddles. I just finished a prototype for the Mark III and already started work on the Mark IVs"

"Why? What's wrong with these models?"

"Longevity and ease of repair. With how popular this attraction is getting it's only a matter of time before these cars will need repairing. Every month we're learning something new about what people like and don't like about the car. Just goes to show that even when a product is a success, there's still a lot that needs to be done to perfect it."

Scott writes this down as Bob finishes talking.

"Would you like to ride in one of these, Scott?"

"Yes! I'd love to."

Bob chuckles as they wait in line to ride in one of the cars.

Time Skip

"How was yer trip son?"

"I loved it Pa. Mr. Gurr let me take so many pictures and showed me all of Tomorrowland."

Mr. Heyward smiles as they make their way back to Texas. Scott would recite his notes and Bob's story. His father could only nod along as he never really got into the science side of business.

"Well Ah bet yer science project'll turn out real good."

"Oh yeah Pa. Until science finds a better way, everything needs oil. Even the rockets."

"Thatta boy. Yer gonna be takin Heyward Oil inta space."

Scott smiles and sits back in his seat. He starts to fantasize about making his own world of tomorrow.

AN: Shoutout to @xanatenshi for requesting this story.

Tagging: @mercsandmonsters, @georgefairbrother, @imaginationlast, @hooked-on-elvis, @arrolyn1114,

@teamnefarious, @blighted-star, @ab4eva, @thetaoofzoe, @vintagepresley,

@myradiaz, @jaqueline19997, @kiankiwi, @ahundredlifetime, @mydarlingelvis,

@tupelomiss, @elvispresleywife, @karel-in-wonderland, @tacozebra051, @sillybookmarks,

@dusintv, @velvetelvis, @livelaughelvis, @slayingjd, @anamiad00msday,

@mistyspresley, @i-r-i-n-a-a, @yoooooooh, @southcarolinawoman, @peaceloveelvis,

@squaggleson, and @idk583838.

#scott heyward #clambake #ecu fanfiction #thanks for the request!#disneyland #autopia

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