#OP-HEADS i-i don't feel so good ...

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[kyros-tha-soldier]

ONE PIECE Chapter 1099 SPOILERS

Kuma-bros, kuma-sisters... our man will keep on suffering that's all i can say

[doctor-who-war-doctor]

So hear me out, yeah?

I feel like maybe they had similar upbrinings? Yes Surr3al is essentially just an entity but they look more "mechanical" and "machine-like" than Sinist3r does. Surr3al gives me a created by another vibe while Sinist3r gives me they did that themselves.

Based on the little HHN lore I know I choose to believe Fear is their father and-or creater. Surr3al just needed a little more time in the oven so to speak and I think she was thankful rather than resentful like Nebula

Sinist3r might of been tortured by Fear similar to how Thanos would replace Nebula's body parts with machienary to improve her. But Surr3al viewed it as a necessary correction rather than Nebula's reluctant capitulation. Their heart got ripped out, replaced with a machine of some kind so they can only focus on her own and other's minds. Their head was torn open to expose their mind, creating greater influence over others. She thanked Fear after they were created.

What if she's recreating the cycle of abuse and torture she went through to be created in order to corrupt others? They never had or will have conflicting morals about this like Nebula because she genuinely enjoys tourturing the minds of people less than them, it brings them so much pleasure.

To reiterate, this is mainly a Surr3al headcanon. I don't think these characters are completely related I've just noticed very strange comparasions to them. They have scars on the same eye and side of their heads as eachother, isn't that interesting?

[bi-writes]

ghost is off limits. not just emotionally or romantically, but physically. you have seen the aftermath of when someone so much as bumps into him or brushes past his arm in a tight hallway. they learn very quickly that lieutenant riley isn't to be touched, not even a little, not at all. (18+)

ohhhh but not for the medic. your touch is clinical. necessary. ordered. ghost glares, but he does not tell you to go away when you make your way into captain price's office. it's late; they just touched down not even ten minutes ago, exhausted and burdened by an op that took a few weeks of their absence.

he smells like sweat, like grime, and you can taste the sand in the air when you take a seat next to him. even seated, he is taller than you. he takes up a ridiculous amount of space, dwarfing the office chair he sits in. you set your kit down on your captain's desk, turning to face your lieutenant.

"uhm...could you show it to me?"

he huffs in annoyance before he pulls his tactical vest over his head, tossing it onto the floor. you swallow, blinking, focusing, as he unzips the jacket he wears and lets it fall at his feet. your lips part a little as he reveals the strength of his arms, tight muscles straining against the shirt he wears and showing off the sleeve of ugly military tattoos that are sunburnt along one arm.

gorgeous, giant man, but then your eyes take interest on the nasty gash along one arm, a jagged wound that stretches nearly from shoulder to elbow. it looks angry and irritated, much like the look in his eyes.

when you put your hands on him for the first time, he flinches. not because he is in pain, but the feeling of skin against skin is so foreign, like a wound of its own. you blink up at him, soft and sweet, and you show him your hands, what you're doing with them.

"just going to clean it out and stitch you up, lieutenant. promise i won't take too long."

but he likes it. the way your soft palm cups his scarred forearm, running a cloth over the lines of blood that trace along the length to his wrist and drip onto the floor. the warm drag of your fingers pushing his skin together so you can hook the needle through and stitch him up solid and effectively. those easy, gentle strokes, threading through skin as you would hem a skirt, a pattern that you have not forgotten that is now being weaved onto his very body.

he'll wear your stitch pattern like a patch he has so dutifully earned. and you will wear his marks just the same, yes she will, the good girl that she is.

when you finish, he grunts, flexing his fist to gauge the tautness of his skin and the way the wound burns as he stretches his arm. he tilts his head to the side, glaring. your hands rest easy there, still pressed up against him, and he nods at you expectantly.

"open y'r mouth, sergeant."

and you do. because he's your lieutenant, and he has given you an order. he hikes his mask up, revealing a disgusting grin and the sharp edge of a torn lip, a face mangled beyond recognition. when he spits in your mouth, he tastes just as you expected--like sand and smoke.

"now swallow."

and you do, but not because he's your lieutenant, it's something else, something more. not afraid, but intrigued, somehow not put off, but needing sustenance.

when he crowds you in the infirmary later that night, you don't understand. you don't understand the sudden need to touch, the way he grips your ass, the nasty way he bites at your jaw and pushes your pants down your thighs and puts his cock between your thighs.

he promises he won't fuck you, promises he'll be nice this time, but it's hard to discern between reality and heaven when he lets the tip catch on your clit with every frantic stroke. you squeak with every rough thrust, pressing your ass against his pelvis as you arch your back, wanting to see his face, wanting to kiss him, wanting to make this tender and soft and a little romantic, but that isn't ghost.

ghost is mean. ghost isn't a giver, he's a taker. ghost is made of sharp edges only, broken glass on all sides, it's such a shame his cock is so nice and so big and so good, lieutenant, please, i need it--

"need more," is what you beg, even though you know he can't give it to you. you know, but he does it anyway, he slips a big hand between your thighs and opens you up, and you cry when he finally sinks deep, hoisting you up, your back tight against his chest as he learns how quiet the voices in his head are when he's so deep in your pretty, pretty pussy.

he slips another hand around your throat, baring it, giving himself room so he can bite at your neck and lick over the salt and brand you with the evidence of the reprieve he refuses to give, but you don't care, all you can do is smile.

you know his secrets now, the things he would never tell, the things he can't say out loud.

it's almost frightening that you don't really care if he has to kill you to keep you quiet.

[insectwmn]

you know when you see something that isn't wrong but manages to shock you to your very core? thats how i feel abt the randy south park shrine person

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘷. (𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴) 🐅

⤷ summary: spain and canada. lando's rizz is negative, mission is failed. plus, mclaren pr is about to fuck shit up 🗣️

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liked by ynusername, zbrownceo, and 42,908 others

mclaren spain you were forgettable at best 😔 on to the next one

18,980 others

user1 y/n don't insult your team on the team account challenge

mclaren is it really an insult if it's true

user2 we got a lando photo but at what cost

user3 lando fans can never win here

mclaren why you would ever choose to be a lando fan to begin with is beyond me

user2 you're so right queen i'm sorry

landonorris DON'T APOLOGIZE WTF

user2 fuck both of y'all honestly

user4 at least mclaren fans can always count on content, even if we can't expect results 😭

user5 lando and y/n in their friendship era, how the fuck did we get here

landonorris you're posting me now? oh you want me so bad 🥴

mclaren sending this to hr immediately

ynusername YOU'RE FIREEEDDDDDDD

user6 damn she logged into both accounts just to make sure he heard her ass 💀 double homicide

user7 oscar fans i can't even tell if we won or lost

user8 we didn't get a face pic but... we didn't get whatever the fuck the 3rd slide is

landonorris guys pLEASE

landonorris i won't post it she says... it's just for me she says

user9 LMAOOOO AND YOU BELIEVED HER???? 🤣 🫵

landonorris going dark, no one call me

user9 was anyone going to anyways 💀

user10 LET HIM GET UPPPP

oscarpiastri i'll pay you 20 dollars if you don't ever do this to me

mclaren 🤝

mclaren i mean you were never the target but now you will be if i don't get my money!!!!

oscarpiastri oh ok

lilyzneimer i have pictures you can you use if you need bb <3

oscarpiastri WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON

zbrownceo Very funny Y/n! Keep up the good work 👍

mclaren Thanks boss! (:

landonorris ZAK WHY

user11 zak is so supportive now, wait until he sees her comments 💀

zbrownceo I have seen her comments! Very funny! 👍

user11 blink twice zak, we can help you

maxverstappen1 This is the highlight of my week, thank you Y/n!

mclaren hey max verstappen of redbull racing! not sure if you heard but you did win the grand prix this weekend

maxverstappen1 No i know, this is just definitely better.

ynusername where's my photo credits 🫵

mclaren my bad bbg 😍

user12 nurse she got out again

oscarpiastri we'll win next time!!

mclaren who told you that 🤨

oscarpiastri the voices in my head

logansargeant you hold on bro, we'll find your meds soon

user13 i think moto moto likes you ahh image

user14 i need to shrink him and put him in my pocket and keep him there

user15 which one?

user14 lando

landonorris nuh uh, pick again

maxfewtrell you can't post pictures without consent mate

mclaren i didn't??

landonorris i didn't consent.

mclaren who are you gonna believe max? me? or the solid concrete evidence in front of you

user16 he looks like he can do some crazy tricks on a trampoline

landonorris this is the only comment about myself that hasnt made me viscerally angry

oscarpiastri unfortunately i feel the opposite

user17 lany/n at it again

user18 literally what the fuck do you mean

user17 if you dont get it, i can't explain it to you

user18 okay cryptic ass, fuck you 🙄

user19 they're in love guys, just wait and see

user20 yall just love saying stupid shit on this page huh

user19 i hate getting accused of some shit i actually do 😡 like yeah i do love that but who told you

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user20 op be so fr right now

user21 everytime one of these illiterate f1 drivers pulls one of the hottest women on earth a fairty dies

user21 *fairy

user22 fairty

user21 you shut the fuck up 🫵

user23 people when coworkers are seen together at their place of work

user24 do you hug your coworkers and follow them like a lost puppy when you could be on a break

user23 wtf no

user24 EXACTLY MF, THIS IS NOT COWORKERS BEING COWORKERS

user25 history will say they were just colleagues 😔

opeightywon this shit is a national tragedy

user26 every time i see a post like this i think about the fact that she has probably seen this and i shiver

user27 honestly praying on their downfall

opeightywon wtf

user28 lando fans be normal challenge

user27 idgaf about that white man, she's just too hot for him 😕

opeightywon oh yeah real

user29 i need another youtube video where they stare at each other longingly again asap or i fear i may start having withdrawal symptoms

user30 another hot girl lost to an average white man's swagless looks and cringe fail personality i feel sick

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liked by landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 44,786 others

mclaren not our best results in canada but we improved i guess 🙄 but on a much better, more exciting note: NEW MCLAREN YOUTUBE CHALLENGE OUT GO GO GO GO

17,998 comments

user31 my crops are watered, my skin is clear, my funds are tripled

mclaren all me 😮‍💨

user32 "yay challenge video" we all cry in unison

user33 OSCAR FANS IS IT REAL??? HAS IT COME TRUE??? IS THAT A FACE PIC I SEE

user34 and it's good quality too 🤩 what did we do to deserve this

mclaren you don't, but oscar bought me coffee all weekend

oscarpiastri yes i bribed her, i feel no shame

user35 lando's back in the dog house bro, he's back to no face pics

user36 but look at his beautiful brown eyes

mclaren babe they're greenish blue with the TINIEST bit of brown 💀

user37 how long you gotta stare at a man's eyes to know the exact paint blend 🫵

user38 DOWN HORRENDOUSSSSSS

lilyzneimer insert comical heart eyes here

mclaren flirting with your man 🤢 on MY cellular device

lilyzneimer my bad bb, he doesn't mean anything to me anyways 🥴

oscarpiastri ok what the fuck

danielricciardo DROP THE CAMERA SETTINGS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

mclaren check dms 🤲

danielricciardo thanks love you're the best

landonorris LOVE??? LMAOOOO

user39 bro is losing the dgaf war MISERABLY

user40 the way lando is staring at her the whole time she's behind the camera 😫 oh he's not even down bad, bro's down under

landonorris can i get the camera settings

mclaren has anyone ever told you how good you are at photography?? i'm not saying that, i'm just asking 😀

landonorris oKAY fuck you.

user41 the way she doesn't even pretend to care about the results

landonorris i know 🙄

mclaren i know p13 is nawttt talking back to me right now

user41 OHHH SHE ATE YOU UP HUH

landonorris y'all are some fake ass fans fr

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8:57 PM.

Y/n stared at the flashing numbers on the digital clock in the boardroom and huffed quietly. The table in front of her was covered in a mix of shredded mozzarella cheese and vibrant, red pizza sauce. Flour with evidence of handprints and bits of pizza dough decorated the wood and the woman internally sighed at the thought of clean up. Eventually she would have to get back to work.

Lando was on his phone across the table from her, and she fought the urge to stare at him. Oscar had left a while ago, having an earlier flight than them out of Canada. Lando and her had made the executive decision to stay and finish the pizza the two men had made during the "not my hands" YouTube challenge. It was messy, and didn't fully resemble a proper pizza, but it tasted good enough if not a little bit burnt. The two had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the time being while they ate.

In the time Y/n had gotten to know the British man, both on and off the track, she found herself warming up to him considerably. He was kinder than she gave him credit for at the beginning of the season, and far funnier. She could see now that more often than not he spoke without thinking or having any consideration, and maybe he was more than a little bit arrogant, but he also felt things deeply and cared passionately.

Before she could think about what she was doing, Lando's eyes met hers and he smirked. Y/n's face burned but she rolled her eyes at him and took another bite of their burnt pizza. Her ears caught the sound of him placing his phone on the table, and when she looked up again he was leaning his body across the table and toward her instead.

"What are you staring at? Hm?" He teased and she scoffed.

"You," she started and took another bite of her pizza, "have pizza sauce all over your face, you idiot. And I'm just thinking, not sure if you're familiar with the concept." He grabbed a napkin quickly and began wiping rapidly at his chin and mouth, and even his nose. She couldn't help but laugh loudly. There was nothing on his face. He was perfect actually. Unfortunately.

"Did I get it? Why didn't you tell me sooner, traitor!" She doubled over but nodded anyways.

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned as he settled back down.

"Just the season, you and Oscar," she muttered.

"Me? Thinking of little ol' me when I'm right here in front of you," she rolled her eyes with a groan.

"You have selective hearing Lando," he laughed and nodded.

"Well what have you thought about it? The season I mean. And myself of course, don't care much what you think about Osc," he leaned on his hand and stared at her intently. Y/n couldn't help that being stared at by Lando felt a little bit like being ocean, being pulled and pushed by the moon's gravity. Her brain didn't work properly around him.

Or maybe I'm just really dramatic and he's just hot, she thought miserably, Probably the latter.

"I just think maybe you and me got off on the wrong foot," she said as she fumbled with the lid of her water bottle, "and I think that maybe I enjoy this job a lot more than I thought I would." The comments seemed to sober Lando's mood up slightly.

Maybe I shouldn't have been truthful. Maybe it shouldn't have been that serious.

"What did you think of me?" He asked quietly. "When you met me I mean."

"Do you want me to be honest?" He looked at her quizzically.

"Of course I want you to be honest Y/n, or I wouldn't have asked."

"I thought you were kind of an asshole," she whispered and he laughed.

"So the beef was real for you," he smiled slightly and she let her face fall gently into her hands.

"Yeah," she breathed out a laugh, "yeah maybe a little."

"Doesn't seem like a little," he goaded and she shot him a glare.

"Okay Lord Lando, maybe more than a little," he pointed at her triumphantly.

"AHA! So it was the instagram comment. I thought you knew I was kidding," A loud groan filled the room as she smacked her head on the table. Lando's giggling could probably be heard down the hall but Y/n found she didn't care all that much anymore.

"It wasn't just the instagram comment," she defended weakly. There was a brief silence as Lando stared into space and shook his head.

"Wow... I can't believe you were actually mad at me and I just didn't know."

"It wasn't that big of a deal I guess, I just felt like you didn't really take me seriously."

"Well I mean you're not a very serious person," Y/n's heart fell to her stomach.

"What?" She asked, staring at him. She couldn't have heard him right.

"Well it's just that you're not very serious are you? Like since I met you, it's never felt like you were a serious sort of person." He added as if that was some sort of defense.

As if that isn't more hurtful.

"You're not like Zak or Andrea, or really anyone else here you know? You're just you, you're different. It was hard to be serious with you here because that's just who you are." He continued.

God just shut up, please for the love of God just shut up.

"This is my place of work Lando," she muttered bitterly. "I mean do you hear yourself." His eyes widened and he put his hands out placatingly. Like she was some sort of rabid animal he needed to calm down.

"No no no," he muttered quickly and stood up to round the table, "that's not what I meant Y/n, you know that."

"Stop Lando, just stop," she said as she began to clear off the table.

Why did she expect him to be different. What made her think he could've changed.

"You made it perfectly clear what you mean. What you think of me and of my work, my career" she spit out, swiping everything on the table into the trash. They hadn't finished eating the pizza and now it was in the bin, but Lando didn't deserve to eat the pizza she helped him make. He didn't deserve to be here at all. He wasn't her friend, he was her coworker and nothing else. It was better she accept that now.

"You misunderstood what I said," he grabbed her arm to stop her from cleaning and she whipped it out of his grasp.

"Stop Lando," she said raising her voice. She knew her eyes were teary but she didn't care. She knew her face was red with embarrassment and her hands were shaking with the force of her humiliation but she didn't care. Lando Norris could go fuck himself.

He looked at her in shock and winced as he saw her face. She steeled herself. She had never cried over a man before, why would she do it now.

"You need to leave, you have a flight in the morning," she said emotionlessly. "And I have to clean so I can go home." He tried to speak and she put her hand up, stepping away from him.

"Get out please, you're in my way," she said and his brows scrunched. He was angry? Good, so was she.

"I'm in your way?" He asked incredulously, as if she didn't have any reason to be upset. "You're not even going to hear me out?" He scoffed.

"No Lando, I don't have time for this. I have a job to do and you're in my way," she said emphasizing the words as if speaking to a child. His face fell. He looked angry.

"Whatever Y/n. What fucking ever," he muttered, grabbing his bag and storming out. Y/n waited. Footsteps in the hallways continued until a far off door slammed.

Y/n wilted like an unwatered plant as tears began to fall.

So much for friends.

She knew deep down she was hurt about much more than just friendship.

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this is the second to last chapter of part one! i hope you enjoy! please feel free to comment and send requests, i'm excited to hear your thoughts <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

[stardustedknuckles]

*scrubbing hands down my face* how can you compare magical ability to cocaine with a straight face and also support that the solution is to give Laudna unrestricted access to the cocaine. What mental gymnastics are you doing for that to make any sense. I know marisha used the metaphor. I also know people use metaphors that most closely match their life experiences and if parental/guardian/whatever broad mentor category Delilah belongs to abuse was something she'd struggled with, she very likely would have made that comparison instead! Creators are in fact fallible and trying their best with limited vocabulary and/or experience. It's not an entirely bad metaphor, but it does not take motivation and narrative impact as far as abuse and in fact puts Laudna in unflattering light that she doesn't deserve.

The magic wasn't making Laudna a worse person. Delilah was, and could also crucially physically take over her body to do shit she didn't want and which, again crucially, she was not actually responsible for. The magic was not interfering with her ability to live her life. Delilah was. And if anyone was hungry for power, it was Delilah.

Addicts are accountable for the actions they take in the name of getting their next fix, even though those actions are not what they would do without the disease of addiction and they are so often horrified by them and feel out of control. Laudna was never accountable for the things Delilah forced her body to do. The only possible blame she could take was MAYBE for not trying harder to get rid of Delilah earlier, which. She had fifty years to learn that wasn't fucking possible so forgive her if that certainty took time to change in the presence of powerful and kind friends giving her strength to not only try, but to even want to try.

Addiction as a metaphor for Laudna and her whole deal with Delilah would squarely assert by extension that everything Delilah did to her and through her was her own fault. The term for that is victim blaming.

Hey so can we stop with the addiction metaphors now that Delilah's been bejeweled. It was never a great metaphor and followed more along the lines of an abusive relationship, and now Laudna is in control of her life. Like. Addicts don't recover by continuing to access the thing that made them feel powerful, because again. Addiction was an incomplete and inept metaphor for that whole deal. The cocaine does not throw itself at your face and taunt your every waking thought, because it is in fact an inanimate object. Manipulators do that. People do. And when people do it, that's abuse.

[sunarc]

Praisers vs Degraders ~Pussy devourers edition

These boys would devour every inch of you. He’s a passionate lover, covering every inch of your body in kisses. His lips feel so soft pressing against your skin. His tongue glides against your body covering you in his love and devotion. 

“God you're so beautiful” he breathes the words against your skin as he inches closer and closer to your warmth.

Your body is trembling with desire, eyes wide watching as he inches closer to where you desperately need him. 

“Please” the word drools down your lip filled with desperation. 

Your eyes lock with his and you can sense the hunger in him. He’s ready to please you. With one simple word he’s at your service gliding his tongue across your core humming at the taste of you. 

“So fucking delicious baby” he groans.

His hands wrap around your legs pulling your body closer to him. The way his tongue dives in exploring every crease and corner of you leaves you shaking and whimpering.

“It's so good” your words are slurred

His moans vibrate against you as he devours you. 

“Fuck I love you” he groans “Love every inch of you baby, so good, so fucking good for me” the desperation of his words spill from his lips in between each slurp and kiss. He’s hungry for you, wishing he could live between your legs for forever. His fingers dig into your thighs pulling you so close you're almost worried he may take his last breath between your legs. Your heart is beating out of your chest, hand gripping the sheets as your back arches off the bed. It's as if he’s taking every ounce of you with his mouth. 

He’s obsessed with you. His eyes stare at you watching your every movement, loving the reaction he’s getting from you. He needs to see you fall apart on his tongue.

“Make a mess for me baby” his voice comes out in a whimper

“Make a mess and I promise I’ll give you the world my love.”

Characters:

AOT ~ Armin, Jean, Reiner

HQ ~ Hinata, Hanamaki, Bokuto, Atsumu

JJK ~ Itadori, Choso, Gojo

WB ~ Sakura, Akihiko

OP ~ Sanji, Usopp, Sabo

These boys love to tease you. He loves to hear you whine and beg, each word that slips past your lip being a desperate cry for him and only him. His eyes flash with lust as he craves to hear your voice whimpering for him. 

“Tell me what you want, baby. Closed mouths don't get fed, you know that” he chuckles lowly

You let out a soft whine embarrassed at the thought of having to beg. He knows you like the back of his hand. He knows how desperate you are for his tongue. His fingers dance across your skin, touching every part of you. 

“Please” you whimper

“Please what baby?”

 You groan, throwing your head back. Having to say the words feels so filthy. It seems ridiculous thinking this way when he’s pushed between your legs sucking deep marks into your thighs and easing the skin with his wet tongue.

“I-I need you to … just please” you struggle to get the words out covering your face in an attempt to hide from the embarrassment “Please lick it” you whisper the lewd words earning a devilish smile from him.

His tongue slowly glides between your plump pussy lips taking in your essence. “Like that?”

He grins watching you nod your head with wide eyes and a jaw stuck open. 

“So naughty” he chuckles as his tongue continues flicking the bundle of nerves between your legs “Practically begging like a slut for me to lick your pussy”

His words leave you a shy mess, hiding behind hands that can barely cover the shame of it all. 

His tongue feels like it understands your body more than you ever could. He’s exploring parts of you that you never knew could be found. 

“Don’t get shy on me now” he laughs as you try to hide from him. “Look at me. Watch me while I make this slutty pussy cream on my tongue.” 

His words go straight to your core. You can't help the way your hands find their way to his hair. Your eyes look down at him watching as he breathes you in, taking you in with each flick of the tongue. 

“I want your juices dripping down my chin, you understand me?” His voice is rough as he grips your thighs pushing himself further into your warmth. 

“Don’t be shy, get nasty for me baby”

Characters:

AOT ~ Levi, Erwin, Ony, Connie, Eren

HQ ~ Tsukishima, Kuroo, Matsukawa, Kita, Suna

JJK ~ Sukuna, Toji, Geto

WB ~ Suo, Togame, Umemiya

 OP ~ Ace, Smoker, Doflamigo, Crocodile

[pathologicalreid]

heart to heart | s.r.

in which hotchner!reader is set to have heart surgery, and Spencer can't help but be concerned for her

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x hotchner!reader category: angst content warnings: fem!reader, chronically ill!reader, spencer is anxious, inadvertently made jack hotchner a glass child, hospitals, medications, surgery, heart transplant, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, mostly medically accurate, rejected proposals, spencer's pov, mentions death and dying and wills, howl's moving castle word count: 2.51k a/n: this might be my favorite margotober post of the week. i don't know. it's very introspective. twas a request!

Ironically, his heart was racing. Spencer made his way through the cardiac unit with nothing but his imagination to guide him. He had just left the building a few hours ago when you insisted that he sleep in a real bed, and now he was back.

Your dad hadn’t told him what was going on, he just told him to get to the hospital. It was an hour’s drive from his place in D.C. to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore—you could already be dead by now.

He didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye to you. Not a real, proper goodbye. He told you he’d come back in the morning, which felt ridiculous now.

The sterile fluorescence of the intensive care unit only added to his irritability as he washed his hands upon entry, the CVICU had been your home for the past two months, and in a way, it had become Spencer’s as well. He couldn’t be shocked, you’d been in heart failure for nearly two years, and there was no way he could ignore the worried glances between your doctors and nurses.

You slept more than you were awake most days, Spencer and your dad took turns staying behind on cases, and you usually didn’t have the energy to hold a conversation.

That’s why he’s so surprised to see you sitting up in bed with a cap over your hair, talking to your cardiologist. You looked drained, dark circles gave your eyes a haunted look, but Spencer’s chest filled with relief at the fact that you were still very much alive. “Hey,” Spencer said, looking around the room for even the slightest clue as to what was going on.

Sluggishly, your head turned to look at him, “Hey,” you said back, a weak smile on your face.

He wanted to tell you to lie down, sitting up was obviously draining you of what little energy you had, but more than that, he wanted you to tell him what was going on—he couldn’t guess, he couldn’t bear to be wrong. “What is it? What happened?” His questions were frantic, your father had never called him in the middle of the night like this.

“I’m getting a heart, Spence,” you told him, your voice was gentle.

So, the sky wasn’t falling. The feeling of impending doom that he’s had for the last two years was potentially going to be lifted away, “When?” He asked, stepping further into the room and setting his bag in the chair, crossing his arms as he joined the conversation between you and your doctor.

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth, “Tonight.”

He needed to sit down.

“We’re just waiting on some final pre-op labs,” your doctor confirmed, nodding at the both of you. “It’s a good match,” he assured Spencer, “I’ll let you two talk.”

As soon as you were alone, Spencer guided you down to the pillows. Too weak to resist, you leaned back until your shoulders hit the pillows, “Where’s Hotch?”

You hummed in response, “Jack freaked out when we told him I was getting a new heart, dad’s with him until our aunt gets here.”

“He’s worried about you,” he observed, sometimes it was hard to put the age difference between you and your brother into perspective, but at times like this, he remembered just how young Jack really was.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head once, “He’s scared that my new heart won’t love him the same.”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “So, what did you tell him?”

You smiled softly, “I told him it was like in Howl’s Moving Castle.” Pausing for a moment to catch your breath, Spencer took your hand in his, “They’re not taking my love away, I’ll be able to love him even more with a new heart.”

“So, now he thinks your heart is on fire,” Spencer pointed out, tucking a stray hair underneath your cap.

Sighing, you shut your eyes for a moment, “Sometimes it feels like it.”

His chest tightened in sympathy while watching you try to catch your breath, vaguely aware that this was the last night that tonight would be like this, “Are you scared?” It seemed like a foolish question to ask, knowing that you’d had more procedures than most people your age, but this was a big one. This was the big one.

You nodded gently, there were so many things to be scared of, surgical complications, transplant rejection, but you looked at Spencer with pity in your eyes. You were pitying him, “My will is in the top drawer of my nightstand,” you started.

“No,” Spencer interjected, denial creeping up on him.

You sighed, it took everything in you to hold back your tears, “Spence, we have to talk about this.”

He shook his head, “No, we don’t. You’re going to be fine.”

“I need you to be rational,” you pleaded. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, you were begging him to think rationally as refusal crept over him. “You know the statistics. In fact, you probably know them better than me,” you said pointedly.

He sniffled, “You have good odds,” he insisted. “Even if you didn’t have good chances, you’ve always been good at beating the odds,” he reminded you. The two of you had said goodbye before, a nasty battle with bacterial endocarditis had put you in a coma, but you had come out of it, sending you even higher on the UNOS transplant list.

Issues with your kidneys had knocked you out of the running for some hearts, so your only hope was a direct donation. It seemed like you were getting your wish. “My heart won’t be as big,” you murmured, not having the energy to debate Spencer on probability.

“No,” he affirmed, “It’ll be a bit smaller.” Your heart muscle was thick as a result of your cardiomyopathy, and your pacemaker wasn’t able to keep up with your deteriorating health. A transplant became your only hope.

You sighed contentedly, “You always made me feel so lucky.”

“Stop trying to say goodbye,” he told you, tilting his head to the side.

Nodding, he could tell that you understood him, “You’ll never get rid of me, I’ll come back and haunt you.”

Spencer shook his head dismissively, “No dying, sweet girl. We’ve got to take care of your new heart.”

A peaceful silence blanketed the two of you, sitting and waiting for someone to tell him it was time to go. He didn’t want to go. He’d go with you to the operating room if they’d let him.

He said goodbye to you in the hallway, watching you get wheeled away before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking to the waiting room, stopping in his tracks at the sight before him.

A majority of the BAU had gathered in the waiting room, taking up all of the chairs on the right-hand side, settling in for the long haul. “Hey,” JJ was the first one to speak, giving Spencer a quick embrace before stepping back, “How was she?”

“She’s good,” he answered absentmindedly, still looking around the room, a few familiar faces nowhere to be found. “She was tired,” and a bit morbid toward the end.

Jack was curled up on one of the loveseats, a blanket tucked over him. Spencer continued looking around, confusion settling in until Emily spoke up, “He’s in the chapel. Rossi and Morgan are with him.”

Hotch was in the chapel, likely lighting a candle for Haley while Rossi and Morgan said a prayer for you. Oddly enough, it brought Spencer comfort to know that his friends were pulling for you in the ways they knew how, especially when he didn’t believe in it himself.

Spencer looked at the bracelet that you had placed in his hands, it was one of your most prized possessions, and should something happen to you, he was under strict instructions to hand it over to your father.

You were still a teenager when you were first diagnosed, and you were scared of having a big scar from open heart surgery, so your mom went out and bought you a charm bracelet. For each procedure after, you’d gotten a new charm for the bracelet with Hotch continuing the tradition after your mother had passed away.

There was no doubt in his mind that there would be a special charm for this surgery, Hotch usually had Penelope and JJ help him pick it out.

Penelope walked in, handing Spencer a cup of coffee. The average heart transplant takes six hours, but you have so much scar tissue that he wouldn’t be surprised if it took longer than that.

You were two years younger than him, and he found himself enamored with you from the moment you met. Your disease had forced you to leave college early, but your dad had set you up with a job in records at Quantico, both to give you something to do and to keep you nearby.

Until you just kept getting sicker, you were the best person they had working in records, but eventually, you had to leave that too.

The rest of the team caught on to Spencer’s crush, but you found yourself avoiding him like the plague. You turned him down eight times before you finally acquiesced, come to find out the only reason you said yes is because Hotch pushed you in that direction. Of all people, your father had just wanted you to continue living your life—he didn’t want you to become a hermit.

You would be one now though, with all of the immunosuppressants you’d be on post-transplant, you’d be spending a lot of time at home.

Rejection became a trend in your relationship when Spencer proposed to you last year. He’d done it properly, asking your father and Jack for permission, but you’d said no, rattling off some excuse about how he shouldn’t shackle himself to someone with one foot in the grave.

That night, after you had all but broken up with him, you’d collapsed and ended up in the hospital. The two of you made a promise to each other. If you ever got a new heart, you’d finally say yes.

The promise had been your idea, claiming that karma had caused you to collapse in your apartment because you turned him down. Spencer didn’t believe in karma and fate the way you did, but he did believe in you. That was enough for him.

Hotch came back up first, setting a comforting hand on Spencer’s shoulder before he walked back to where Jack was sleeping, your Aunt Jessica was back there with the two of them.

They hit the two-hour mark with no update, and Spencer convinced himself that no news had to be good news.

Derek and Rossi had made their way up to the waiting room, pulling out a deck of cards from the hospital gift shop and dealing around the table. Spencer just watched, he’d played more than enough card games in this hospital before, and he’d likely be playing many more in the future.

You’d have to stay in the hospital post-transplant for approximately a month, but it was some comfort to Spencer that instead of your health declining, you would begin feeling better. It hurt to hope, but he found himself excited at the prospect of you regaining your strength.

By the time five hours had passed, JJ and Derek had fallen asleep in their chairs, but everyone had committed themselves to waiting for you.

Spencer wanted to take you home, settle you into your shared apartment together, and let you heal, but you weren’t going to come home with him. When your month in the hospital was up, you’d go home with your dad and Jack. Your apartment didn’t have an elevator, and he worried about you having to use the stairs all the time. Your dad’s apartment had an elevator, so it became the obvious choice.

You told him you didn’t even remember what home looked like anymore. He couldn’t wait to bring you home.

He’d started to worry after six hours had passed, but just before hour seven hit, your cardiothoracic surgeon came out to the waiting room.

Careful not to wake Jack, Hotch stood up from his chair, approaching the surgeon with a wariness that Spencer had never seen from him. He waved Spencer over, silently inviting him to join the conversation.

“Everything went well, she’ll be in the CVICU still for a few days before she’s strong enough to be transferred,” the doctor explained, garnering the attention of some of the other people in the room. “Visiting hours don’t start for a few hours, but if one of you wants to stay with her until she wakes up, then I’d be willing to arrange an exception.”

You’d be waking up in a bright room with a tube in your throat, and having someone that you knew with you when you woke up would hopefully ease some of your fears. As soon as Spencer was about to offer to keep an eye on Jack so Hotch could sit with you, Hotch interrupted his train of thought, “You should go.”

Spencer frowned, glancing over your father, “Are you sure?”

Nodding, Hotch looked back at Jack, still sleeping on the loveseat. “I need to stay with him, and she wouldn’t want him to see her first thing,” he explained.

If Jack’s fear from earlier was any kind of forewarning, Hotch probably had a point when it came to wanting to stay with his youngest. Even still, Spencer protested, “I can stay with Jack.”

There were a number of people in the room who could stay with Jack, but Hotch clearly wanted to stay, “Don’t keep my daughter waiting, Reid.”

He did not have to be told twice, turning around and following the doctor to your room, scrubbing his hands before approaching the door. Faltering slightly at the doorway, Spencer found himself staring at you. There were so many wires and tubes connected to you that he’d have to take his time doing inventory of them all, there was a tube breathing for you, but your heart—your heart was beating steady.

“You can take a seat here,” a nurse said, gesturing to a chair for him to use. He sat down obediently, setting his bag on the ground next to him.

You wouldn’t come out from under the anesthesia for hours yet, but Spencer found comfort in knowing that he’d be here for you when you woke up. He could let you squeeze your hand when you felt pain, and he’d be there to wipe your tears away. At this point, he’d do anything you asked of him.

For now, all he had to do was wait. He clasped your hand in both of his and sat at your bedside, a ring box burning a hole in his messenger bag—waiting for you to be ready for it.

[mytheoristavenue]

How MHA Guys React to Fangirls

Summary: Dating a pro hero can be a challenge, especially one so handsome, with so many rabid fans.

Warnings: jealousy, fluff, gn!reader, very little angst

Katsuki Bakugo:

Bakugo has never been into having fans as he is just being all together admired. Not one for social interactions, he tends to clam up and become defensive when asked for an autograph, so when he's approached by a fangirl, he wants nothing to do with them. Especially if he's out with you, off duty. If one does happen to approach, and ignoring them doesn't do the trick, he'll make sure he's not their favorite hero anymore by the end of it.

"Do I look like I'm on duty to you? Can't you see I'm out with my partner or are you fucking blind? Piss off, I ain't signin' any damn autographs."

Izuku Midoriya:

Izuku totally understands how it feels to be a hopelessly obsessed fan, so he cuts his fans a lot of slack- sometimes too much. Though he rerfused to admit it at first, he has a lot of fangirls. and he's never the type to hurt someone's feelings on purpose, so he almost always stops for free autographs and photo ops. It can be sometimes frustrating how much of a people pleaser he can be, but rest assured, if he feels like you are getting too uncomfortable, or a fan is becoming too bold, he politely and swiftly ends the interaction.

"Hey, thanks for the support! I'd love to stay and chat, but it's actually my day off, so me and and my partner here are gonna move along. Hope to see you at the next event I attend, though!"

Tenya Iida:

Iida does truly enjoy interactions with his fanbase, but he considers that part of the job, and he's very strick about working off the clock. Because of this, he declines nearly every interaction if he's off duty. He absolutely has no tollerance for being flirted with, either, especially in front of you.

"I appreiciate your enthusiasm, but I and currently off duty and will not be indulging in fan interaction at this time! Please feel free to catch me anytime you see me in uniform! Good day!"

Shoto Todoroki:

Shoto doesn't beleive he has fans, genuinely. He can't quite wrap his head around having a fanbase, or being a fan of a celebrity in the first place, due to how he grew up. It tends to bewilder him when strangers approach him on the street wanting autographs, even more so when they try and put the moves on him. It just goes in one ear and out the other.

"You want an autograph? Why? Well, okay, I guess, but then we should get going. My partner and I are busy."

Eijiro Kirishima:

Kirishima tends to have a very healthy balance of pleasing fans and knowing when to say no. He loves giving out autographs, taking selfies, and giving hugs to all his fans. He especially loves interactions with child fans because it reminds him of how he idolized Crimson Riot, and he hopes to inspire someone like that too. He is, however, very aware when he's being flirted with or sexualized, and has no issue with promptly, albeit politely shutting it down.

"Alright, ladies, I understand someone as manly as me attracts a lot of attention, but my partner here is the only one I've got eyes for, and I ask that you please respect that."

Denki Kaminari:

Unfortunaely for you, Denki loves attention from fans, especially from his fangirls. He never turns down a signing or photo op, posing with girls however they want, even if it means something suggestive. To his credit, he will stop if you ask him to, but you still have to ask.

"Oh, what's that? Okay. Sorry ladies, we gotta run, but catch me at the next meet and greet!"

Hanta Sero:

Like Kirishima, Sero seems to have a pretty healthy mix of reactions. He loves his fans to death and would do most anything for them, especially kids. He lets his fangirls sexualize him to a small extent, knowing they probably don't totally realize he's a real person, but if they come to commenting on his body, or touching more than his shoulder, upper back, or elbows, he puts a stop to it.

"Now, that's enough, ladies. I appreiciate the admiration but even us celebrities have to set boundaries. It was nice meeting you, but it's actually my day off so me and my partner are gonna get, have a nice day!"

Minoru Mineta:

Like Denki, Mineta unfortunately lets his fangirls do whatever they want to him, short of carry him off. He actually does sometimes feel guilty for hurting your felings, however. He just doesn't realize how his flirting can affect you at times. He hopes you know that, even if he does flirt back, it's you who he truly loves!

"Awe, babe, I'm sorry! They don't even matter to me, I swear! It's you that I love, not some silly fangirl!"

Tokoyami Fumikage:

Tokoyami for the life of him does not know how to interact with his fans. He gets overwhelmed by crowds, but can usually handle interactions if they come one or two at a time. He typically caters to most requests, unless they happen to be personal questions, or something embarrassing. He doesn't like the idea of some fans being attracted to him, as he's only attracted to you, and he feels guilty beign someone's unrequited love. Due to this, he doesn't entertain any kind of flirting from any of his fans, no matter what gender.

"Sorry, I'm not comfrotable signing that for you, can you pick something else? My partner here is my only love, so it wouldn't be right of me to sign your photo with anything romantic."

Mezo Shoji:

It took a lot of convincing to get Shoji to understand that he had fans, let alone ones that were attracted to him. he's just not used to people other than you thinking of him that way, with his mutations and all. You actually had to show him all of the fan works of him online to get him to believe you. That being said, Shoji loves his fans, but he tends to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and the fact that the can forget he's a person, not a character. In the past, he's had issues with fangirls stroking his muscles during photo ops, squeezing his pecks, and one even tried to yank his mask down. Luckily since then, he has learned how to manage fan interactions much better.

"Hey, don't do that. I'm a person, just like you, please treat me how you'd want to be treated. And don't disrespect my partner by tyring something inappropriate right in front of them."

Mashiroa Ojiro:

Like Shoji, Ojiro had a hard time accepting he had fans, but took much less convincing on your part. What he really struggled with was coming to terms with some of his fans liking him romantically. He doesn't typically turn away fan interactions, even on his days off, but he does cut them shorter that he would if he were working. If someone tries anything inappropriate, he ends the interaction right there.

"Sorry, I don't appreciate what you just did. Besides, it's my day off and I'd like to spend it with my partner here. I forgive you though, and hope to see you again at a meet and greet in the future!"

Tamaki Amajiki:

Tamaki appreciates the thought of having fans, and when standing intront of a cheering crowd, he can soemtiems handle it, but he really hates fan interactions. He never knows how to handle them, and many end up with him just nervously standing by while a stranger takes pictures with him, many times without his permission. Many times, you have to step up from him and ask the person politely to move along, which he always appreiciates.

"T-Thanks, babe... They were making me really uncomfortable but I didn't wanna hurt their feelings..."

[oceantornadoo]

betrayal (simon riley x f!reader)

in the same universe as two lieutenants

--

"what the fuck, simon."

you slammed down a stack of papers on his desk. he tilted his head up, eyes moving fast as they read what was in front of him. leaning back, he crossed his arms and spread his legs in his desk chair, the picture of composure. "use your words, lieutenant."

you scoffed, unbelieving. "i put in a transfer and you deny it? we're the same rank, you shouldn't even be able to do that." he shrugged, eyes darting away. guilty. "don't know what yer talkin' about. same rank, remember?" you rolled your eyes, feet starting to pace his office floor out of anger. "i thought we were friends, simon." you stopped, the hurt swelling into your words. all your emotions hit at once. betrayal. sadness. you thought he'd be different. "and- and then i see this?" you swiped a hand angrily at your eyes, wiping away the tears before they formed. "what, you just want to hold me back? i want to be a captain and i can't be one on this team. you know that."

he knew that because of late nights in his room over tea, sharing deep secrets. you on his bed, him in his extra chair, whispers exchanged in the dark of the night. the trust you put into your fellow lieutenant was unimaginable, the weight of it immeasurable. your foolish mistake had come to bite you in the ass.

"dove, 's not what you-"

"don't you dare call me that." your finger up against his chest, accusing. his nickname for you too hurtful for you to hear right now. "lovie, let me explain i-" you turned around, heading for the door. done with this bullshit.

and then suddenly you were up against the door, simon's masked hand covering your mouth. he wasn't even breathing hard, the exertion barely making a dent in his stamina. he towered over you, eyes shining through his eyeblack and his simple black balaclava. the thumb of his hand covering your mouth brushed your jaw, a soothing motion to calm you down. "gonna be a good girl and listen?" his thigh was wedged in between your legs, mostly to keep you from bolting, but he used it to emphasize his words. you felt wetness pool in your underwear, your body betraying your mind. you rolled your eyes, but after seeing his facial expression not change, you finally nodded. he took his hand off your mouth, brushing your cheek before leaving it, his thigh forgotten between your legs.

"i denied it 'cause i'm a selfish bastard." your eyes widened in shock. confusion. were you right? "i just-" he took a breath, hand reaching to run through his hair before realizing he had his mask on. he yanked it off, throwing it to the side.

"i just wanted you to myself, ok? heard the team you applied for was gonna go dark for years in russia in an undercover op. and i can't-" his eyes seared into yours, both sets of pupils dilating in the moment. you understood.

"you won't lose me, simon." you reached your hand to run it through his hair, dirty blond strands easily passing through. you both stood there for a moment, taking comfort in the fact that this thing you two had was finally being addressed.

"i can't. after everythin', it's jus- not you too. can't lose you, dove." his masked hands cradled your face, glad your physical friendship boundaries were finally being crossed. you gave him a sad smile.

"i know you want captain. i asked 'round and there's other teams open. closer. was gonna tell you this afternoon but got interrupted." by you, choosing to believe he was like all the men before, who wanted to make you small so they felt big. by you, choosing to protect yourself first, not in the wrong but not optimistic either.

"ugh, you're the worst." fuck, had he gotten in wrong? this whole thing wasn't what he'd planned. the whole confession wasn't in the cards, and now he was paying for it. except-

except you were pulling him in for a hug, standing on your tippy toes so you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. his hands immediately rested on your waist, the feel of it so foreign and yet so right. this was the first time you'd ever embraced him like this, so open and emotional. he memorized the feel of you in his arms, just in case, always just in case, then let himself live in the moment. he dug his face into the crook of your neck, sniffing the scent of your contraband shampoo, the scent that chased him in his dreams and nightmares. his thumbs caressed your skin, drawing circles into your waist.

"yer it for me, you know? you see it now? but if you need to choose between me and captain, i get it." he waited for your answer with bated breath, squeezing you tighter in case you turned him down. in case it was his last chance.

you answered with a peck to the side of his head, making simon all warm and fuzzy inside. "you're mine too, idiot. i can still make captain without going to russia." finally, he relaxed. the hug had gone on for longer than necessary at this point, but he didn't want to let you go. slowly, you pulled back, making eye contact. "so when are you taking me out on a real date?"

--

this is for the girlies guys and pals who have always had to feel like they had to choose between a man and a career. with the right man, you deserve both! (i wouldn't know i'm just a hopeless romantic trapped in a college town but i'm trusting what the books say.)

[robo-writing]

Hello!! I came from your single mom one shot and I am in love with how you write Logan. Could we have a worst!Logan and wife!reader at a bar and he’s getting hit on relentlessly by a girl who won’t take the hint even though he has stated that he is happily married MULTIPLE TIMES and then reader comes in and rips the girl a new asshole and Logan likes it a little too much and practically drags her home to fuck because of how hot he got from her getting angry and defending him?

How very Beth Dutton of you op! The girl that stands in front of him flashes him a smile—pearly whites, black hair that reaches down to her back, topped off with a low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that draw the eye of everyone behind the bar—everyone except him that is.

He knows what she wants from him before she can utter a single word, eyes shamelessly moving across his body with not a hint of subtlety. A few years earlier and it might've worked, she's cute enough. A vixen, all doe-eyed and determined, if he was a younger man she might've been his type. But that's all in the past; she's cute, Logan thinks to himself, but she's not his wife. His eyes don't move from where you're standing at the bar, barely giving the girl more than a passing glance as she speaks. "Hey there, mind if I keep you company?" He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps himself in check in hopes that he can resolve this without any trouble.

"I do unfortunately," he says, flashing the pretty gold band around his finger as he takes another swig of his beer. His fingers play with the ring around his finger, smiling to himself like a love-struck fool when he remembers what it symbolizes. He'd hope that would be the end of it, but unfortunately for him, it is.

The gal's either too drunk or too pig-headed to get the hint, so instead of backing away she leans in real close, too damn close—close enough that it starts to draw your attention from across the bar.

Suddenly your interest isn't in your drink anymore, and before you can walk closer Logan puts his hands up, mouths out lemme handle this, before speaking up again. "Listen, I'm a taken man." He says with a sigh, giving her his full attention. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, a coy smile tugging on the ends of her lips. "That's a shame. Your wife know you're here?" "She does," he nods with a smile, "and she's right over there." He points right to you, where you raise your glass with a thin-lipped smile, sarcasm evident in your body language. He can tell you're in a good mood tonight because you haven't dragged the girl by the hair yet, and he'd rather not ruin the night because she can't take a hint. Surely, she'll leave—except she doesn't. No, she does the exact opposite; she looks back and sees you, laser-focused on the two of them, and with all the audacity in the world, she fucking smiles back. You almost shatter the damn glass in your hand. "Oh, that's alright," she whispers with a wink. "Lemme go talk to her." His eyebrow damn near reaches his hairline, looking at the young girl as if she's truly lost her damn mind. Normally he wouldn't give a damn if someone wants to catch their death, but he takes pity on her for the sole reason that he really doesn't want to get kicked out. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Don't worry," she says, and to put the icing on the cake she puts her hand on his chest, loops her fingers around his dog tags and tugs him down. "I can handle myself." With that one gesture he knows she's just sealed her fate. No, you can't, he wants to say, but she's already making her way across the bar where you stand, looking like hell itself. You know he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, but it doesn't matter—someone else touched what's yours, so you have to remind Logan where home is. He's not really sure if he should feel happy that his girl is so protective of him, or sad that he's about to get kicked out of his favorite bar. Logan sighs and puts his beer down, reaching into his pocket and dialing 9-1-1 just as the telltale sound of glass shattering echoes across the bar. It really is a shame—he liked this bar too. The only good thing that comes from tonight—minus the visual of you with blood across your face—is the jaw-dropping sex that ensues the moment the two of you get home, remnants of rage seeping through every touch as you drag him upstairs by the collar. He's more than happy to let you take the lead, content in being your personal scapegoat if it means he gets to see you bounce on his lap like a woman possessed.

Lips intertwined, clothes askew and hair tousled. The taste of iron—a split lip, he remembers—then moans into your mouth when he remembers how you got it. Is it wrong to say you look your most beautiful when you're mad? He doesn't give a shit if it is, especially if his punishment is your pussy gripping him like a vice. He likes you like this—jealous, protective—it's what drew him to you in the first place, how you bite down on what's your and refuse to let go. From the moment you saw him you staked your claim and he was more than happy to follow you for the ride. "You like it when she touched you?" You mutter, lips pressed against his as you ride him for all your worth. Sweat beads off his brow, eyes closed in bliss, he nods his head no but it's not enough—you want to hear him say it. You teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, a delicious groan erupting from him as you repeat yourself. "Answer me Lo, did you fucking like it?" "No, no—" he gasps, hands wandering across your body. "Wasn't even looking at her, swear to god—" "And who were you looking at?" you ask, and the answer makes your walls flutter across his cock. He lets you hear him loud and clear, giving you a lop-sided grin as he thrusts up into you.

"You, sweetheart, only you." "Louder," you moan, scratching at the expanse of his back, encouraging him. He repeats himself, fucking into your gushing cunt, his words bringing you to a new high with every thrust. His words are long, drawn out, caught in his throat as he struggles between speaking and catching his breath. "Only got eyes for you baby—fuckin' christ—" He speaks long after you've stopped, so engrossed in pleasure you can barely hear anything beyond your ringing ears and the slap of your ass against his thighs. "All yours baby, all fuckin' yours."

[cyberrose2001]

Heyo! Can I request some stress sex with Op, fem reader and Ratchet? The two work so hard and maybe some.joking around when mentioning the readers name, the two stressed bots snap, and reader ends up railed into?

TFP Optimus x human!Reader x Ratchet

Hayy thank you for requesting! I've kind of just jumped right into the good stuff since I wasn't entirely sure what you implied with the joking around. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: AFAB Reader, Established relationship, Poly, Implied Mass-Displaced, Cum Dumping + Cum Shots, Masturbation, Fingering, Spit, Slight Oral

Word count: 2,186

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

"C'mere, you." Ratchet catches your chin with a servo, bringing your lips closer to capture them in a long-anticipated kiss. His other servo holds your lower back, inching closer down to cup your ass.

Moaning into the kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck. Hard steel meets soft fingertips as you play amongst the seams. The medic groans with you as he presses his glossa against your teeth, a gentle command exuding confidence that makes your knees weak.

A new set of metallic lips meets your body. It's a welcomed one, inviting your other lover in by tilting your neck just enough. The Prime licks and sucks at your already bruised skin, reminiscing of all the previous bouts of love poured over you. His servos find the side of your ribcage, running the tips over and between where they lie under your shirt.

"We missed you today," Optimus says breathlessly against your ear, nipping at your lobes, "I apologise for our busy schedule."

Parting your lips from Ratchet, who responds with a groan and a small flick at your lips with his glossa, you turn your attention to the mech behind you, "I don't care," You lift your hand to caress his face, "Just fuck me."

"With pleasure," Ratchet mumbles into your neck, having seized the opportunity to nuzzle himself against you. He dips his servos down to tug at the hem of your shirt.

"Here- let me." Optimus strips the fabric over your head, dumping it on the ground. Ratchet is next, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. With hands as dexterous as his, he quickly does so and lets it fall from your shoulders.

Optimus groans at the sight, snaking his servos in front to cup at your breasts. They fit against his palms perfectly, as if you were made for him. He kneads them together, squishing and squeezing them. It causes a soft moan from you, and you lean your chest into his touch. His metal is cold to touch and sends a shiver down your spine.

"I'm takin' these off." Ratchet focuses his attention on your pants and dips his digits underneath. He grips your underwear, too, and pulls them down to your ankles to let you step out of them. As soon as he does, Ratchet's dermas are attached to your skin, and he kisses his way upwards. No stone unturned; not one inch of your flesh is spared from his opened-mouth kisses, worshipping your flesh like it's the last time he'll ever get a taste.

You can feel Optimus' impatience poking at your lower back, surely pent up from the stresses of leadership. You can feel your own arousal start to build at the thought of his impatience plunging into you. Rubbing your thighs together to ease some pressure, it catches the attention of both hungry mechs.

"Come on, Optimus," Ratchet grips onto your hips, standing up to full height, which seems to be miles above your head, "Let's get 'em on the berth; I'm far too impatient for mere foreplay."

Optimus agrees entirely, wrapping his arms around your midsection and effortlessly picking you up. He steps back until the back of his knees hits the berth, hauling you up against him. With a small surprised shriek from you, he flops back to lay fully onto the berth, your back lying against his chassis. Your other lover closely follows, climbing up to plant himself between both yours and Optimus' thighs firmly.

"Who's spiking first?" Ratchet asks, placing both servos onto your spread thighs. His optics hold the weight of cement, and he cannot look anywhere but your exposed folds.

"I will allow you first, old friend," Optimus presses his face against the side of yours, "I am sure our little love does not mind either way, hm?"

You nod, a desperate whine dragged from your throat when Optimus snakes his servo around to circle at your clit, "Yes, yes, I don't care, just- just please fuck me."

"I love it when you beg like that," It takes no more convincing from Ratchet to unsheath his spike. It's much smaller than Optimus but large and thick enough to keep you begging for more. He brings a servo to his mouth and spits on it before working his oral lubricants over his spike. Once satisfied, he leans down to kiss the inside of your thigh before letting his lubricants well up in his mouth and spits on your pussy. Optimus chuckles lowly at your reaction, allowing the warm spit to lubricate his digits to spread it all around your folds.

Once he feels sufficiently hard enough, Ratchet presses the tip against the threshold. He's too eager and can hardly wait a moment longer, "Oh, Primus-" He pushes further, slowly working half of his shaft inside.

He's barely seated inside you, and you're already trembling, resisting the urge to cry out. Optimus holds you steady, whispering soft praises and encouragement through it all.

"So well," Optimus watches with hazed optics as Ratchet sinks fully inside you, his digits continuing to work on your bud, "You take Ratchet exceedingly well."

Ratchet lets out a rough grunt, "Though a rather tight fit, might I add-" He leans his body over, making a sexually charged sandwich out of you, "But you feel like fragging silk." He shivers above you, and you've got no choice but to stare into his optics as he withdraws his length and thrusts hard back into you.

"Oh my god-" Your speech falters, and you arch your back against Optimus. Though not as fast-paced as the Prime, the medics feel longer and more powerful each time and ring your vocal cords like a bell.

"That's it-" Ratchet buries his helm into your neck, his work of breathing increasing with every plunge into your plush pussy, "Take it- take all of it."

Optimus chimes in, his voice strained with anticipation and longing, "They certainly are-" The driving force of Ratchet causes your back to grind and rub against his spike. He breathlessly nips at your ear lobe, "Tell him how he makes you feel, sweetspark."

"S-So good-" You moan, stringing together whatever words you can claw at, "Feels so good- nghn-"

"Yeah?" Ratchet grunts as he increases his speed. His grip on your waist tightens with every thrust, all indications point to his overload inching closer and closer, "Gahh- Frag, say my name-"

A filthy rendition of his name falls from your lips, slurred and full of lust for the mech. His thick spike is grinding and pressing against every sweet spot known to humankind. Your hands find his shoulder plating, gripping on for dear life as your own orgasm breaches the horizon. Optimus holds you steady and keeps you from squirming, letting Ratchet indulge in your flesh freely.

"Oh, you sweet thing-" The medic sits upright, pistoning his hips while hungry optics gaze down on your wobbling flesh, "So fraggin' gorgeous."

It takes only a few more pumps of his spike before you call out each other's names. Ratchet presses his pulsing spike as far as he physically can inside you, his frame shaking as he pumps full to the brim. Your body tenses, and your hands shuffle to find Optimus' servos, gripping them as you cross the threshold. The Prime responds by comforting you, intertwining his digits with yours, and murmuring praises against your ear.

"Primus, just when I- guhh-" Ratchet pants, squeezing his optics shut as you clench around him, "Just when I thought you couldn't get tighter." He taps a digit on your other lover's thigh, "Your turn. Ready?"

"Whenever you are satisfied," Optimus says. He snakes his servo to your front once again to prepare for Ratchet to pull out. With a strained groan, he does, and as soon as his spike unsheathes itself from you, Optimus shoves a digit inside to plug you up, preventing the flood of transfluids from escaping you.

"Here, let me help." Ratchet slips Optimus' spike out from under you. He presses the tip against your entrance alongside Optimus' digits, quickly slipping it past your folds, "There you go."

The Prime underneath you groans, vibrating your entire body. He grips your hips with restraint but with enough force to push you down his whole length, helped out by the slick of your pussy and Ratchets' transfluids. The sheer girth has you keening as your walls stretch and clamp down onto it. Ratchets' dermas are automatically on yours to capture your moans and cries.

"Primus-" Optimus lifts you higher onto his hips for a slight adjustment before he begins to move within you. The warmth of your pussy mixed with the hot transfluids has him clenching his optics shut and burying his face against the side of your neck, "You feel wonderful."

"They sure do, don't they?" Ratchet kisses your tear-stained cheek after your soft lips, "You're perfect."

Your ability to speak leaves you when Optimus gives you a particularly harsh thrust, and you cry out his name. Shaky hands find the ones holding onto your hips as you, once again, hold on for dear life as you're fucked for the second time tonight.

Ratchet sits up again, his lust-filled optics trained on the way your pussy stretches around the thick spike, how your face twists in pleasure, and how the drool inches down your chin. You're a complete and utterly fucked mess, and the sight of it all has his spike standing tall and erect once more. He bites his lower derma as he takes his aching spike in his fist and pumps himself, moaning with you and Optimus.

The Prime glances up from your neck, noticing his friend masturbating to you being fucked, "Not- aghh- finished yet, are you, old friend?"

"Never-" Ratchets' hips stutter, gritting his dentae as he squeezes himself from base to tip, "Never finished."

Optimus growls lowly into your ear, "Then we better give him a worthy performance-" He then wraps his arms tightly around your chest, causing you to forget how to breathe for a moment before he fucks up into you so hard you nearly black out. You no longer have control as he pinned your arms against you. He's unrelenting, rutting into you hard enough that the remnants of Ratchets transfluids spurt and dribble out of you. And the said mech groans in approval, jerking his cock faster and faster.

"C'mon, sweetspark," Ratchet edges closer to another overload, shuffling forward so his spike is within inches of your stretched-out hole, "Overload again- nghh- for us-"

"I- fuckfuckfuck-" You whimper out, unable to squirm or even move in Optimus' embrace. Your body starts to convulse, and your head falls back against the mech's neck as your whimpers bloom into sheer, unrestrained, and sinful cries, cumming around Optimus' cock.

"Primus, yes-" The Prime groans, his vocaliser strained. He pushes you down as far as you can take, dumping his load deep within your little organic valve. His own frame begins to tremble, jolting with every squeeze you give him. Your jaw goes slack, feeling every crevice within you filling up with with sticky transfluids. It causes a bulge in your stomach, a wonderous testament to how pliable your little human body is.

Ratchet is close by, desperately pumping his spike. His other servo finds your bulging stomach, caressing and pressing against it, "Frag yes, t-take it..." He moans wantonly, his second overload walloping him. Thick ropes of hot transfluid shoot out onto your stretched pussy, coating your outer lips and clit; some miss and shoot out onto your stomach. It causes another moan to leave your lips, the heat against your sensitive folds sending a tingling sensation up your spine.

He finishes himself off, squeezing every last drop from his tip before he sits on his heels, spikes brushing limply against your inner thigh. Optimus, once barely recovered from his overload, takes a moment to peer over your shoulder to gaze lovingly at the utter mess between your legs. A mess that they caused.

"Goodness," Optimus chuckles lowly, releasing his grip from your torso, "Look at the state you are in."

Your entire groin and everything in between is soaking in their sticky transfluids. It drips down your folds and along the shaft, still buried deep within you. It's a lewd sight, for sure, worthy enough for both of the bots to snap a picture and save it to their internal hard drives.

Ratchet breathlessly laughs with him, caressing your inner thighs soothingly, "Quite the mess, if I say so myself."

"It was..." You pant tiredly, your pussy still clenching around Optimus' dully throbbing spike. Your heart races, but you feel utterly relaxed against his frame as you soak in the afterglow, "Well worth the wait."

Optimus gives you an exhausted smile, kissing the side of your reddened and bruised neck, "I share the same sentiment."

"Speaking of, I hope we all share the same sentiment regarding getting you cleaned up," Ratchet shuffles back and leans down to bury his face between your thighs, licking a stripe up your drenched clit, "I'm peckish for dessert."

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"let me help you out" ft. the monster trio!

in which, an experienced you gets to teach them something new

ft. (inexperienced) luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader

warnings: short nsfw drabbles; oral (both m!receiving and f!receiving), dirty talk, handjob, sub!op men (im a whore for pathetic men)

luffy:

bark bark woof woof icanbealightshade-

- "aww?" you nibbled on his earlobe, deft fingers swiftly moving up and down his shaft, "are you okay luffy?" - "it feels so good u-gh" he was panting, eyes closed, lips bitten till they were red, hair damp and tangled words on the tip of his tongue, "ple-ease please don't stop ha-" "hm?" you teased, licking a stripe from the base of his throat to his jaw, "what will i get in return?" - "anything" his hand is on top of yours, calloused fingers pumping his dick alongside your delicate ones, "anything you want, i will do i- it" "hands to yourself, baby you know the rules" pressing open-mouthed kisses against his tattered skin, you move downwards till youre sucking on his tip, swirling your tongue slowly and tasting the salty precum - "relax" you whispered as you licked up his cock, tracing the faint veins with the tip of your tongue as he shivered under you - as you're sucking his dick, he stretches it ever so slightly so that it's hitting the back of your throat. he lowly whispers, "just w-anna see your throat getting fucked" - you let him do as he pleases - after all, first times are supposed to be fun aren't they?

zoro:

im not above the temptations of the flesh im afraid

- you're pushing zoro against the wall, kissing him as he stares at you with wide eyes "yn?" he's whispering against your hot kisses, looking down at your tits as they spill out of a flimsy tank top, sensitive even to your most casual touches, "somebody's gonna see us, baby" "let me help you, zoro" - the rest of the crew was doing their usual around the deck and thankfully, nobody had wandered into your little corner yet - you bite down on his pulse, tasting the citrusy soap on his skin and leaving behind purple bruises - when he moans, you press a hand onto his mouth, "shh, they'd hear us. you don't want to let them see you like this right? so obviously fucked out by me?" - and then you're on your knees, pulling down his pants and freeing his cock from the cloth-bound cage. you look up at him, biting your lip as you give him an innocent look, "can i suck your dick hm?" "somebody's gonna catc- fuck, god, fuc- k" his breath hitches as you take half of his dick in, swirling your tongue and playing with the hard cock, "darling, quit playin'" - his back is pressed against the wall and his hips are matching the torturous rhythm of your hand, he's fucking himself, rutting desperately into your hands as his grip in your hair tightens "'m so close, so so close, angel, fu-ck" he throws his head back, hands pulling your mouth to his cock again, "faster, fasterf- please baby" you hum against his member, "wanna cum on my face?" - never have you seen this man come undone so soon

sanji:

hehehehe marry me 💍💍

- "yn, yn, yn~" he's rutting into air, waiting for any sort of friction that you deprive him of, "please don't make me wait" - he whimpers as you slip a finger in and moan out his name, you smile at him through the stimulation, "i thought you wanted to just see?" "let me touch it just once pleas-" "sanji, sit still" you silence him, letting your fingers mercilessly circle your own clit as you choke down sobs and cries - when you were done, you crawled over, making him taste your fingers, "see, you were so patient, so, now i should give something in return shouldn't i?" - he's whimpering when you palm him through his dress slacks and realize suddenly that he ha already cum "aw? that all you could take?" he flushes and as you continue palming him, he feels himself getting hard, grnding against your soft hands, "please yn, please don't make me wait" "aww, if you're in a hurry come help me" you encourage and he's pumping himself with your pace. - his eyes are rolled back, head thrown back as he struggles to breathe,"pl-ease just a little more, please plea" - his face is flushed as his cums undone in your hand

a/n: hope you enjoyed this lol and please please let me know the artists if you know them, full credit for the art to them!!

[bi-writes]

ok simon and his mail order bride live rent-free in my head now and, like, what i wanna know is what their anniversaries look like? not just their one year anniversary, but also their fifth or tenth? how does it change as they settle into that deep comfortability that comes with being with someone a long time? -391780

this piece i still consider canon mail-order bride, but i see it almost as an extra than a continuation of the current story since it is very much in the future of that timeline. <3

mail-order bride

it's difficult to see the potential of something so mangled. sometimes things are so worn out and so used that they don't reflect what their purpose was. instead of function, they see flaw. instead of value, they see waste.

sometimes you wonder if that's what they saw in you. sometimes you wonder if that's why you were given to him.

that's what they made him. simon was a tortured dog they let loose. they saw value, but only what was left, and perhaps they thought something like you might help them squeeze just that little bit more out of him. one more year. one more op.

the sunlight wakes you up. you forgot to pull the blinds, but when you see simon sleeping peacefully next to you, it's worth it to be up so early. you know as soon as you move, he will wake, so you keep still for just a few more minutes.

today marks ten. he doesn't look much older. he seems to have stopped aging ever since you asked him to put in his papers.

like always, as soon as you sit up, simon blinks awake. he's bleary, but conscious, and when your eyes meet, you smile at him. he lifts his big hand and rubs your back gently. you don't speak any words so early in the morning, but you don't have to. there isn't much to say when the love of your life loves you, and you love them back.

you push the blankets off, giggling when you reveal the black and orange balls of fur that blink up at you. they almost seem irritated that you interrupted their sleep, snuggled in the heat that simon radiated. they'll just have to deal with it.

you drag your hand down simon's leg wordlessly. you hear his deep breaths from behind, and you reach into your bedside table to press a little balm into your hand before spreading the ointment across his knee and under it. you work it into the muscles nice and slow; any faster, and simon will hitch his breath in pain, and you'll have to start over.

you kiss his knee before laying back down, settling into his side, and you lift up your left hand, wiggling your fingers knowingly at him before looking up towards his face. he smiles down at you sleepily, raising his hand to cup your fingers.

"still love me?" you ask softly, and simon pretends to think about.

"mmm..." he rumbles. "still love ya."

"but do you still like me?"

"more everyday."

the first few years were spent trying to play catch-up. fancy dinners, expensive gifts, handwritten letters that could've been novels to try and stuff the love you have for each other all in one night. they were all wonderful; you think about those nights all the time, and you cherish the gifts he's given you like they are a part of you, but today feels different.

today might not be just another day, but it's just as special as yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that.

when it's time to really wake up, you let simon guide you. he walks easy, barely a limp, and he sits you down at your vanity to help you do your hair as you add your serums and moisturizers. he's good with that brush, running it through gently, parting your hair the way you like so he can tie it up. he'd braid your hair if you asked him to (he said it wasn't unlike all the knots he knows how to tie--and he meant it, no one dutch braids like him), but you know your show came out last night, and you want to watch them with the scones you have proofing in the fridge.

he makes the coffee and tea while you set the scones in the oven. you fill the cat's bowls while he cleans out the water fountain. it's wordless, the morning routine, but you like the times when you brush by him. when your arm runs against his. when your hands bump going for the same cabinet. when he leans down as he passes you, kissing along your jaw before he keeps walking.

bliss. fucking bliss.

he's waiting for you in the living room once you pull the scones out of the oven. your coffee sits on the table on its coaster, in your favorite mug, and he's under your blanket as he flips through the tv. he already knows what you'll want to watch, and you bite back your smile when you notice him typing it into the search bar because he didn't see it when he scrolled past (you keep telling him to wear his glasses, but he'll never listen).

you take a seat next to him, thumbing at his cheek, and he takes a scone off the plate before biting into it. he smiles when he tastes chocolate, looking at you knowingly, and you reach for his hand as you settle against his chest.

you used to be mangled, too. a mess. pretty on the outside, dying on the inside. all fried wires, a traumatized animal, learned behavior of relieve and appease that kept you out of trouble and out of sight.

you have never seen simon this way. and simon has never seen you this way. no hopeless potential. no wasted space. no diminishing value.

i matter because you matter. you matter because i matter.

hidden, not broken. disguised, not incomplete. you did not have jagged edges, only armor that you tried to put up to protect yourself.

you tip your head back to look up at him, and when he cups your jaw to stare back at you, you're relieved by what you see in his eyes.

ten years. it will be nothing like forever. it will be nothing like your next life, nor like the life after that. it's comforting to know what home looks like. maybe you will recognize it the way you recognized it in this life.

no, that can't be it.

you recognized it because it had already happened. in some other time, in some other place, you were sitting where you sit now, looking at simon the way you look at him now.

you knew who he was before you even met him, and you will know who he is when you meet him again.

[lila-lou]

✨Stubborn Heat✨

Summary: Jensen is exhausted and coming down with a fever during a busy convention, but his stubbornness won’t let him rest—not until he’s had his way with you.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, language

Word Count: 4458

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As Jensen walks into the green room, his eyes are heavy and slightly red. He sniffs a few times, texting you to inquire about your whereabouts. But before he can send his messages, you return from the toilet. The two of you are alone, since everyone else is occupied giving autographs or on stage. Jensen doesn’t look particularly good right now.

"Hey", you say softly, noticing the fatigue in his eyes.

"Hey", Jensen replies, his voice sounding tired. "I thought you might've gotten lost".

You give him a sympathetic smile. "Nope, just had to pee".

Jensen nods, but there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. It's your first convention together, and despite being officially together for a year now, it's been a rough journey since his divorce from Danneel became official six months ago. The weight of the past still lingers between you, adding an extra layer of complexity to your relationship.

As Jensen lets himself plop down on the couch, he holds out his hand, signaling for you to sit with him. His forehead rests on his palm, and you can tell he's really tired. You take a seat next to him, feeling the weight of his exhaustion.

Gently, he wraps his big arms around you, pulling you close against him. You lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. Despite the fatigue and the challenges you've faced together, being in each other's arms feels like home.

"You okay?", you ask softly, running your fingers through his hair.

"Yeah", he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "Just… tired".

You nod in understanding, offering him silent support as you hold each other in the quiet of the green room.

As Jensen holds you close, you mumble softly, "You really don't look okay, Jay".

He lets out a weary chuckle, but it lacks its usual warmth. "Just a long day, baby. Nothing I can't handle".

You're not convinced, though. Carefully, you place your palm against his forehead. It's a bit warm, but not alarmingly so. Still, concern flickers in your eyes as you gaze at him.

"I think you might be coming down with something", you remark, furrowing your brow.

Jensen lets out another sniff, and you can tell he's trying to brush off your concern. "I'm fine, really. Just need some rest".

But you know him well enough to recognize when he's pushing himself too hard.

You had about 15 minutes until Jensen went back on stage. You stand next to a security guard, not wanting to disturb either the fans or Jared and Jensen on stage. From your vantage point, you watch Jensen plaster on a smile for the audience. Despite his fatigue, he's a professional, and he knows how to put on a show for his fans.

As he interacts with the audience, answering questions and sharing anecdotes, you can't help but admire his dedication. But behind the façade, you can still see the weariness in his eyes, the slight slump in his posture.

As the panel goes on, Jensen's voice cracks slightly now and then, but he overplays it perfectly, making it seem like part of his natural charm. The fans are none the wiser, laughing and cheering along with his jokes.

Once the panel ends, Jensen barely has a moment to catch his breath before he has to head to the photo op. The schedule is running a bit behind, leaving him with no opportunity to see you or take a little break. You can see the annoyance etched on his face as he rushes past you, giving you a quick, apologetic glance.

You manage to catch his hand for a brief moment. "Hang in there", you whisper, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

He nods, a tired but grateful smile flickering across his face. "I will. See you soon".

As Jensen moves towards the photo op area, you watch him summon the energy to engage with the fans, each smile and pose a testament to his professionalism. Yet, you can't shake the worry gnawing at you, knowing he desperately needs a moment to rest and recuperate. You resolve to be there for him as soon as his commitments allow, ready to offer the comfort and support he needs.

It was about 8 in the evening when Jensen finally entered the green room with the rest of his colleagues. He looked even more tired than before, dark circles under his eyes and his shoulders slumped. You could see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face.

Without even giving you a glance, he grumbled a simple, “Let’s go”.

You felt a pang of concern but nodded, gathering your things quickly.

While Jensen gave the fans one last smile and wave, you walked more between the bodyguards and assistants than beside him, since the two of you wanted to keep your attendance this weekend low-key. The crowd’s cheers and flashes of cameras felt distant as you made your way through the throng of people.

As you reached the exit, Jensen finally turned to you, his eyes softening slightly. “Sorry for being grumpy”, he murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Let’s just get you home”.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet. Jensen leaned his head against the window, eyes closed, as if savoring the brief respite.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, you guided Jensen to your room, helping him out of his jacket and shoes. He collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh, clearly relieved to be away from the chaos.

You knew he didn’t want to be grumpy with you, but you couldn’t hide your disappointment about today. It was your first convention being the new girl at his side, and you saw him less than the fans did. And then he gave you the grumpiness while the fans got the smiles and charm.

As you moved around the room, tidying up and getting things ready for the night, you couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. You understood the demands of his job, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle the disconnect.

Jensen, sensing your unease, opened his eyes and looked at you. “Hey”, he said softly. “I know today was rough. I’m sorry I took it out on you”.

You paused, turning to face him. “I know you’re tired, Jensen. I just… I guess I hoped we’d get to spend a bit more time together. It’s hard seeing you give everything to everyone else and having nothing left for us”.

He sighed deeply, sitting up slightly.

With a soft sigh, you felt a pang of guilt for expressing your frustrations. You knew Jensen's heart was in the right place, even if his actions sometimes fell short of your expectations.

Suddenly, Jensen's expression softened, and he reached out his hand to you. "C'mere", he said softly, waving to himself lazily.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should accept his invitation. But his warm gaze melted away your reservations, and you slowly walked towards him, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation.

As you reached him, Jensen pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly. Finally being close to him again, you nestled into his embrace, feeling the tension melt away.

With his arms tight around your waist, Jensen's lips brushed against your jaw and ear, his murmurs sending shivers down your spine. "You know, sweetheart", he whispered, "there's something special I've been saving just for you. How would you like it if I showed you something that only you're allowed to get from me?".

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, anticipation coursing through your veins. "I'd love that", you whispered back, a smile tugging at your lips.

Jensen smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously as he pulled himself away slightly.

"How about", he murmured, his voice low and husky, "you get out of that little dress of yours?".

A flush spread across your cheeks at his suggestion, but excitement bubbled in your chest. With a coy smile, you leaned in closer, letting your fingers trace lightly along the collar of his shirt.

"Only if you promise to make it worth my while", you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen's grin widened, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. "Oh, sweetheart, I'll make it more than worth your while", he replied, his voice laced with promise.

You pulled your dress over your head, revealing nothing underneath but a delicate lace thong. Jensen's breath caught in his throat as he watched, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with hunger.

A deep groan escaped his lips as he took in the sight of your hardened nipples, the desire in his eyes intensifying. Without a word, he reached out to pull you close, his hands trailing along the curves of your body as he kissed you hungrily.

With a sense of urgency, you gently pushed Jensen farther towards the headpiece of the bed, determined to take care of him. As you started to unbutton his dress shirt, Jensen watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, a mixture of desire and exhaustion swirling in their depths.

But as your fingers brushed against his skin, you couldn’t ignore the heat radiating from his body. His chest practically glowed underneath your fingertips, and you could feel the fever simmering beneath the surface.

Despite his efforts to overplay it, Jensen was definitely sick. The realization sent a pang of worry through you.

Jensen sensing your hesitation, rolled his eyes and growled softly, a mix of frustration and determination crossing his features. In one swift move, he turned you over, overplaying the dizziness that accompanied the motion. Now, he hovered above you, his hardness pressing insistently against your still-covered core.

“Jensen, you’re not well”, you demanded, concern lacing your voice.

His eyes darkened with a mixture of defiance and desire as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna fucking show you how pretty well I am”, he mumbled, his voice rough but full of intent.

Despite the heat radiating from his fevered body, his hands moved with practiced ease, sliding down your sides, eliciting shivers of anticipation. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, a mix of passion and worry intertwining as Jensen sought to prove his strength and you struggled to temper your concern.

With a soft sigh, you stopped resisting, knowing exactly that Jensen would get his way like always. You were putty in his hands, and he knew it. The moment your resistance melted away, Jensen's lips found their way to your jaw, kissing it down to your neck.

His touch was both urgent and tender, each kiss sending shivers down your spine. As he continued his trail of kisses, his hands roamed over your body, heightening your senses and deepening your desire.

"That's it", he murmured against your skin, his voice a mix of satisfaction and raw need. "Just let go, baby".

You arched into him, your body responding to his every touch. Despite the worry gnawing at the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the electricity between you, the way he made you feel like no one else could.

Jensen's hands slid down to your thong, his fingers hooking under the delicate fabric and slowly pulling it down. The anticipation built with every movement, your breath coming faster as you felt the heat of his body pressing against yours.

"Jay", you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of need and concern. "Promise me you'll rest after this".

He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes. The fevered intensity in his gaze softened slightly, replaced by a glimmer of affection. "I promise", he replied, his voice sincere. "But right now, I need you".

His words sent a fresh wave of desire through you, and you reached up to pull him closer, your lips meeting in a searing kiss.

Shortly after, you pushed him back, forcing him to sit on the bed, and crawled above him, your movements deliberate and commanding. His eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and anticipation reflecting in their depths.

“We’re doing it my way, then”, you ordered, your voice firm yet sultry. “Meaning I do the work”.

Jensen’s breath hitched as he watched you take control. You reached for his belt, fingers deftly working to undo it. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops filled the room, adding to the tension building between you.

His hands rested on your hips, his grip firm but allowing you to take the lead. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his fevered state only heightening the urgency of the moment.

With his belt undone, you moved to unbutton his jeans, your hands brushing against the hard outline of his arousal. Jensen let out a low moan, his head falling back slightly as he watched you with heavy-lidded eyes.

Jensen tried hard to focus, but his sickness clouded his mind. Still, as you undressed him, his erection stood hard and proud, showing his desire.

Despite his fever, Jensen responded eagerly to your touch.

You gave him a few pumps, feeling his hardness pulse beneath your touch. Then, you straddled his lap, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you. With his head resting against the headpiece of the bed, Jensen watched your every move.

With a knowing smile, Jensen brushed his thumb over your lips. Without hesitation, you eagerly licked his thumb, coating it with saliva.

He then brought his wet thumb to your clit, which was inches above his hard erection, rubbing your sensitive nub lazily. Each stroke sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body.

You moaned softly. Jensen's eyes darkened with desire as he continued to tease you, his movements deliberate and tantalizing.

He grabbed the base of his dick, positioning it just at the entrance of your slick folds. With a slow, deliberate motion, he spread your arousal with the hot head of his cock, dragging it through your slick slit, up to your swollen clit.

You gasped as he teased your most sensitive spot, the friction driving you to the edge of ecstasy.

Jensen's touch was both gentle and firm, his movements expertly calculated to drive you insane. With each stroke, you felt yourself growing closer to the edge, the tension building to a fever pitch.

With a throaty voice, Jensen leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Sit".

As you obeyed his command, slowly lowering yourself onto him, you felt the familiar pang of pain as you stretched to accommodate his size. But like always, you couldn't take him completely, the fullness almost overwhelming.

Jensen's hands gripped your hips firmly, his touch both possessive and reassuring. "That's it", he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Take me, baby".

You gasped at his words, the pleasure and pain mingling together in a heady rush. With each inch that disappeared inside you, the tension in the air grew thicker.

Jensen groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he let his head fall back, overwhelmed by the sensation of you surrounding him. His grip on your hips tightened, almost bruising, urging you to move, but you needed a moment to ease the pain.

Feeling his urgency, you placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back onto the bed. “Give me a moment”, you whispered, your voice strained with discomfort.

Feeling your discomfort, Jensen's usually attentive nature struggled to break through the fog of his sickness. His mind was clouded, his thoughts sluggish and muddled, making it difficult for him to focus on anything other than the overwhelming sensation of you surrounding him.

Usually, he would have made sure you were alright, his concern for your well-being paramount in his mind. But in that moment, his body was beyond weak, drained of energy by the fever raging within him. So instead of speaking, he simply nodded in response to your request, his eyes falling shut every now and then as he fought to keep himself present.

As you took a moment to ease the pain, Jensen let out a soft sigh, the tension in his body slowly dissipating as he allowed himself to relax. Despite the discomfort and the overwhelming fatigue that weighed heavily on him, he couldn't deny the spark of desire that still burned within him, fueled by the raw intimacy of the moment.

You started to move your hips, the slow, deliberate motion sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Your hands steadied yourself on his biceps, feeling the strength beneath your touch, while Jensen held onto your hips lazily.

As you found your rhythm, the tension in the air grew thicker, the anticipation building with each thrust. Jensen's eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking with yours in a heated stare.

"You feel so good", he groaned, his voice thick with desire.

You moaned in response, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming your senses. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment of raw intimacy.

But as you felt the heat radiating from Jensen's body, concern gnawed at the edges of your mind. Carefully, you placed your palm against his forehead, your breath hitching as you confirmed just how hot he was.

Sensing your worry, Jensen weakly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability. Before you could speak, he let out a low growl, his voice hoarse with exertion.

"Don't even fucking think about it", he demanded, his words laced with stubborn determination.

You hesitated, torn between your concern for Jensen's well-being and your desire to continue. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the fierce resolve that burned within him, the same determination that had carried him through countless challenges before.

With a sigh, you relented, knowing that Jensen wouldn't back down until he had proven his strength.

Jensen's hips met yours with a forceful thrust, a reminder to stay present in the moment.

You winced at the depth of his thrust, feeling the pressure build within you as you struggled to maintain your balance against his chest.

"Jensen", you gasped, the intensity of the sensation overwhelming. "Easy".

But Jensen's response was a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening as he urged you to keep moving. "Don't stop", he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Keep going".

While you moved your hips, Jensen leaned forward, pressing soft, heated kisses along your collarbone. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close as if he could draw strength from your connection. You could feel his breath hot and heavy against your skin, mingling with the fever sweat that dampened his forehead.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands and pulling gently, urging him to continue. With each movement, you took him in deeper, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through both of you.

"Jensen", you breathed, your voice a mixture of concern and desire, "you're burning up".

He groaned against your neck, his forehead pressing against your skin. "Don't care", he murmured, his voice strained but determined. "Need you…need this".

The raw need in his voice sent a thrill through you. You moved together, the rhythm building with each thrust, the heat between you growing more intense.

"Just…stay with me", Jensen whispered, his voice rough and filled with emotion. "Don't stop".

Your heart ached with a mixture of love and worry, but you nodded, determined to give him what he needed.

With his hot lips kissing your skin, you clenched around him, the sensation driving him deeper inside you. Goosebumps rose on your skin where his arms held you tightly, the contrast between his fevered body and your own adding to the intensity of the moment.

Your breathing grew heavier, each gasp and moan escaping your lips as you felt yourself nearing climax.

“Jensen”, you moaned, your voice filled with both desire and urgency.

Hearing his name, Jensen pressed you tighter against himself, his head still weakly buried in the crook of your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, mingling with the sweat that dampened both of your bodies. He held you as if you were his anchor, grounding him amidst the fever and exhaustion.

“Come for me”, he murmured into your neck, his voice rough and commanding despite his weakened state.

The raw need in his voice pushed you over the edge. With a final, shuddering gasp, you let go, your climax washing over you in powerful waves. Your body tightened around him, drawing a deep groan from Jensen as he felt you pulse around him.

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, your nails dug into Jensen’s shoulders, the sensation sending a jolt of pain and pleasure through him. He hissed against your neck, the sound muffled by the heat of the moment.

Feeling you clenching so tightly around him, Jensen couldn’t hold back any longer. With a throaty groan, he released deep inside you, his body tensing as he spilled himself into you.

“Fuck, Y/N”, he moaned, his voice hoarse and exhausted, his breath coming in ragged pants. He buried his face against your neck, seeking solace in the warmth of your embrace.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, lost in the aftermath of your shared release.

Jensen could barely catch his breath at the intensity of his climax and the strong dizziness that followed. His body felt even weaker now as he held onto you. With each ragged breath, he tried to regain his composure, the waves of exhaustion washing over him.

You felt his dick slowly softening inside you. With a tender touch, you ran your fingers through his hair, soothing him with your touch.

"Are you okay?", you whispered softly, concern lacing your voice.

Jensen nodded weakly, his forehead still pressed against your neck. "Yeah", he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just…need a moment".

You nodded, holding him close as you both caught your breath.

After a few seconds, you gently pushed him to lay back, brushing a tender kiss over his cheek. “I’m going to get some medicine for you”, you murmured softly, your voice filled with concern.

As you carefully got up from the bed, you moved with gentle care, not wanting to disturb him further. Making your way to the bathroom, you took a moment to clean up and pull on some clothes.

As you returned from the pharmacy, your heart sank at the sight of Jensen emerging from the bathroom, his figure clad only in boxers, still sweating and clearly exhausted. His eyes were half-open, glassy, and red, a clear sign of his illness. With a heavy sigh, you set the medicine down on the bedside table and approached him with concern etched on your face.

"Hey, Jensen", you said softly, reaching out to brush a gentle hand over his arm. "Got some medicine for you".

Jensen's eyes flickered with recognition as he glanced at you, his expression a mix of fatigue and gratitude. "Already?", he murmured, his voice hoarse and strained. He made his way back to the bed, his muscles flexing with each step.

You nodded, offering him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah", you replied gently. "Let's get you feeling better, okay? You look like you could use some rest".

With a weary nod, Jensen settled back onto the bed, his exhaustion evident in every line of his body. As you handed him the medicine and a glass of water, you couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for him. But you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on providing him with the comfort and care he needed in that moment.

After taking the medicine, Jensen leaned back, his eyes closed in a futile attempt to find some relief from his discomfort. “I feel like shit”, he grumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. A quiet cough escaped him, punctuating his words with a harsh reminder of his illness.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy as you watched him struggle. “I know", you murmured softly.

Jensen let out a tired sigh, his frustration evident in every line of his body. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hell with the second day of the convention”, he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laid your palm carefully against his forehead again, sighing as it still felt hot to the touch.

Heading to the minibar, you grabbed a bottle of water and returned to his side. "Here, drink up", you instructed gently, holding the bottle out to him.

Jensen nodded weakly, accepting the water. He took a few sips, the cool liquid providing some relief to his parched throat.

As he drank, you quickly shed your clothes. With a soft sigh, you settled back onto the bed beside him.

As Jensen looked towards you, his gaze filled with longing, you could see the silent question in his eyes. Why wouldn't you cuddle against him? He weakly brushed his arm up the pillow, silently inviting you to slip into your usual place beside him.

Feeling a surge of warmth in your heart, you couldn't resist his silent plea. With a soft smile, you shifted closer to him, sliding into the space beside him on the bed. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you close against his warm, fevered body.

With Jensen's steady heartbeat as your lullaby, you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day finally catch up with you.

A sense of relaxation washed over him as he felt the coolness of your body against his fevered skin. Your face nestled against his chest, you wrapped one arm around his torso, seeking comfort and solace in his embrace.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth and security of being in Jensen's arms. Despite his sickness and occasional grumpiness, being with him felt like coming home.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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