#Something to make ya laugh hopefully

[nekrophoria]

@drawing-way-outside-the-lines

I see no difference.

[willowed-wisp]

stitches [simon ‘ghost’ riley]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader/you

Hopefully this doesn’t suck and makes sense for the most part. Thanks for anybody that reads this 🥰

WARNINGS: smut, descriptions of injury, body insecurity… a bit of plus size!reader

When you joined the Special Forces, you didn’t want to form attachments.

That was the only rule you held yourself to.

As a medic back at base, you thought it would be easy. Alas, fate had other plans in the form of Task Force 141.

Lead by Captain John Price- who had handpicked you for medical support- to stay back at whatever base looked like- whether it be a van or a safe house.

With that, you lived with the boys. John Price, Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley. You kept yourself to yourself at first, not confident among four SAS soldiers nor in yourself. Knowing of them only.

So you planned to stay huddled in the corner and quiet.

Then in the middle of the night, you came face to face with a black balaclava and a gruff voice, “Ya good?” You only remember the nightmares… more so flashbacks. They were relentless- creeping in the recesses of your mind, waiting for times when stress peaked. Unfortunately this entire ordeal was nerve-wracking.

You only noticed the warm hand on your shoulder, instinct led you to stare past the noir covering the majority of his face and into his eyes. Caring eyes.

He had no need to check if you were okay, he didn’t know you but, nevertheless, it was nice to see the lieutenant as something other than a looming figure.

The seriousness became too much to bear for you, “Do you sleep in that thing?” Using humour to take the edge off- well trying to.

“Soundly,” Earthy, rugged… British yourself, he sounded awfully English. That was when your eyes dawned on the clock- the time more specifically. 02:01.

“Do you sleep at all?” Another attempt but he didn’t laugh- your smile faded, maybe a tad intimated. He wasn’t exactly small.

He stood away, no longer crouching at your bedside. How tall was the guy? You tried to hide the wonder on your face, “Better than you… when I do get a kip…” Some pain in those words. “Better get some shut eye, Y/L/N… see ya at dawn.” You slept better knowing at least someone in 141 had your back.

After that you started integrating more with the lads. You learned that Johnny could clean his messes up exceptionally well, and that’s why he was called ‘Soap’. Price still thought the name was bullcrap but alas, not your problem.

You also noticed that Ghost never showed his face. Black face paint shrouding the skin showing around his dark eyes or his sunglasses. You preferred the face paint.

He had a habit of watching you from across the room chatting with Soap and Gaz- you blocked any possible avenues of relationships. Not that they’d be interested in you (your own thoughts). You didn’t find yourself attractive or good enough. A bit too much weight, you continued to think.

It was a good thing, you couldn’t get distracted.

That was until that day…

Supply checks… stock up on the sterilised needle and stitch thread. You barely had any use to 141, just a glorified nurse who had no business being given a code name.

“Stitches! It’s LT!” The brash Scotsman bolstered his comrade over to the gurney in the impromptu medical van. Blue eyes flashed over into yours, hulking the larger man to lay on his back.

Ghost wasn’t having any of it, attempting to sit up only for more blood to gush from his thigh. You rushed into action, “Soap, get us out of here,” said all too calmly for someone under such pressure. The man did as he was told and they were off. Meanwhile, you had pushed the lieutenant down on the bed. He grunted in pain each time he made a move, “For fuck’s sake, stay still so I can fucking see.” Blue gloves on, as he stopped wriggling, “Thank you.” You were still unimpressed but at least he listened. Unbeknownst to you under the mask he donned a pained smirk- unaware you could be so commandeering. Almost proud of you.

A grunt paused his pride, “Fuck…” Through gritted teeth. Your fingers working the tweezers with expert precision.

He went to sit up, your left hand pressed against his sturdy chest- pushing him down, “Want me to snag your femoral artery, Ghost?” In no time, a red-coated bullet laid in the metal tray and he sat there in his boxer shorts- watching you work and hitching a breath each time the needle breached skin.

They were the gentlest hands that had ever worked on him. “What happened?” Eyes boring into his as you cast off the stitch.

“Someone got the jump on me, should see ‘im,” you smiled at that, able to tell he was too. By his eyes.

The ones you dreamt of every night- except when the terrors returned. Johnny was too heavy of a sleeper to hear you, but Simon’s eyes were what you woke up to. In the flesh. He never asked what they were about, just comforted you.

When your deployment ended, and you returned home… you missed the guys. And his warm eyes whenever you returned to the land of the living.

Johnny contacted you. A pub crawl in Scotland, apparently Gaz, Price and even Simon were game.

Turns out you and Ghost didn’t live too far away. In ten minutes, a knock at your door and you met that deep gaze. “Johnny only just message ya, didn’t he?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m drivin’ us, don’t trust Gaz’s deathtrap…”

“Well… I just need to grab my stuff,” He started to walk away up the path to his 4x4. “You can come in and wait if you wanted?” Who was he to turn you down when you asked so nicely.

He helped you with your bags, “You sure ya gonna get through with that?”

“Haha,” dry humour, there was a reason you seemed to get on, “And if you want me to get more shit…”

You could see a glint in his eyes, “Nah, you’re alright, love…” That went straight down to between your thighs, the look on your face amused the man.

Surprisingly, the two of you weren’t awkward. Quiet here and there.

You assumed he wasn’t used to social interaction in general- especially wearing that balaclava, not good for conversation.

Simon was good to talk to, all waffled speech was redacted with him. Straight forward, sometimes sarcastic and wholly looking for banter- that’s what you preferred.

And there was no chance he would be interested in you. He has the aura of a guy who gets the attention of stunning women. Why would he want you? (You thought)

It was never going to happen.

By the end of that car ride, he learned about your messy string of exes and he had way too much Shania Twain on his playlist (and knew all of the words).

Johnny greeted you both with open arms, a tight hug for you, “You been ta’ing care of yourself, Stitches?”

“Better than you look, use more soap…” The laughs and hug came to an abrupt end- his stare directed over to Simon who loomed behind you. Was it just you, or did Johnny look scared?

“Let me show y’ where you’ll be sleepin’…”You went to grab your bags but Ghost already had it covered.

Poor you, you didn’t know what would await your stay at Johnny MacTavish’s.

The tip was a stretch, your head thrown back against the blanket pillow. Silent screams playing in your throat. He could feel the struggle and see the pleasure striking your visage. Murmurs of his name, “Si- Simon -!” Broken and whimpering. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t on the edge of losing his cool. You were pulsing around him so angelic.

“You’re takin’ me so well, lovie,” His hips took a full stroke, bracing your cervix. Thrumming and dripping wet. Another groan of his name.

The rhythm sank in, strangled moans trapped- your breathing wild against his ear. His thrusts swinging all the way back until they gutted you. Over and over. “Feels. So. GOOD -!” His hand covering your mouth, noting that the owner of the house was just next door and the other two at the end of the hall. Simon’s place supposed to be on the couch downstairs surrounded by Soap’s army memorabilia. Not right there, balls deep inside of you. Loving every second.

Cherishing every inch of you, kissing you in the moment to stay quiet so he could remain there for a while longer. So he may get some sleep, for the first time in a week.

Before you know it, his hand anchored around your ankles- spreading them to hook better. You’ve never moaned so loud in your life. Even echoing off the walls of the room. “Fuck it…” He was too far gone to care what the boys heard or thought. He had been thinking about that moment since he met you, looking so delectable with his cock hammering into you. Taking him so well.

You didn’t know if he would ever tire out, another rush of adrenaline and exhaustion swept over your limp body- numb to anything other than where his thighs slammed against your own and how raw you were going to in the morning.

Your legs fell, his grip focused at your jaw; leaning over- rubbing against sensitivity deep- and claiming your lips in a ravenous kiss that had your head spinning more than before.

Hands falling to your hips, thrusts sloppy as you tightened once again. “Where can I- ,” Drunk on how he tasted, your legs locked around his body.

“Inside,” Your hand found the base of his hair at Simon’s neck, holding on for dear life. Warmth spread downwards as your nails dug into his toned back and neck alike. A thick groan filled the air- enough to become addicted.

Neither of you panted, thriving in the silence. He savoured being hilted inside you, careful not to crush you beneath him. Hot breath spanning your collarbone. “Can’t tell ya how long I’ve wan’ed to do that…”

You felt so small against him, so yearned for. No face covering on his end, no boundaries. Laid bare to him and he wanted you anyway.

Fingers stroked at his thick hair, “Same, Si…”

Neither of you knew who fell victim to slumber first.

The morning came around, the boys had looked proud of themselves… too proud, too giddy. Especially Johnny.

“I think the gutters need check’ng, heard some weird noise last nigh’,” You’ve never threatened Johnny’s mohawk before but that day you grew close.

Price even had a glint of mischief in those clear eyes of his, “Vampires common in Scotland?” You didn’t check your neck, too caught up in the heat the previous night.

Gaz had a smirk on his face, “Not from what I know of, sir…”

Christ, you were never gonna hear the end of it.

______

masterlist

[satoruhour]

悟

a/n:a repost from my old blog ♡ / contains one sex joke / 0.9k

“satoru, come to bed, it’s late,” yawning, you pat the space beside you. he’s doing his nightly skincare routine, patting his face gently with the retinol serum he just bought.

“ya sure you don’t want to try it out?” gojo offers out the dropper, a hairband cutely pushed up to prevent his bangs from interfering.

“i don’t like slimey stuff on my face.” and you cringe, realising your mistake too late.

“and yet you give me your face to cu—”

“shut the fuck up,” you severely miss him, pillow landing on the floor beside him. he didn’t even bother to activate his technique, laughing out loud at your failed attempt.

gojo never did switch it on when he was with you. not when he decided that he’d give his all to you, not even he asked you to move in with him on a desperate full of nightmares, not when you first said i love you.

gojo satoru was soft around you, a sight that many would like to see yet only disclosing it to you. the you who got him falling when you’d hang out with his students, giving as much pointers as you could on cursed energy. that was when he decided, he’s sure. but again, there were countless other times where gojo recalls falling deeper and deeper in love with you. he smiles at that, capping the skin care bottle before quite literally jumping onto the bed.

“argh... satoru, what the hell? you’re heavy!” his weight was crushing you, emphasised more when he leans down to plant kisses on your features. the feigned anger turns to giggling and shielding hands which he easily seizes between his fingers.

“s-stop! ’toru!” your smile is like the first few hues of dusk. it makes him feel all warm and mushy inside, something the strongest normally wouldn’t have the luxury of feeling. satoru says, fuck it, because even i deserve love, even i deserve to be held. he repeats those words you said to him the first time he broke down in front of you, and he does it all the time, now.

gojo is brought back to reality when you cup his cheeks gently, not minding the slimey stuff as you caress his skin. your hands accommodate his smile, cheeks filling up with how he’s grinning down at you and you feel dizzy with the immense love you have for him.

“you’re insanely beautiful, satoru,” you say it like it wouldn’t boost his ego, but you can’t care much when that much is true, noticing how much his hair resembles starlight and how his azure eyes catch the moonlight so perfectly.

gojo could say the same about you.

he sucks in a breath when he hears the compliment, the familiar cocky smirk and corny line lingering on his lips — he figured it’s just different when the words come from you.

“say it again.”

“hm? you’re beautiful, terribly b—” your mouth parts in surprise when the other lowers himself to your side, which prompts you to lie on your lone shoulder.

“no, my love, i meant my name.” gojo pulls you closer, lighting your skin with flames.

“oh! okay! uhm, sa— toru?” you giggle, the name falling weirdly from your lips now that you were demanded to say it. you try again, “satoru.”

your lover smiles, scooting closer, “again.”

“satoru.” the syllables leaving your lips makes him feel dizzy and giddy. while he enjoys being told his voice sounds like silk and syrup, he finds that it fits you better, bringing his face to rest only inches from yours.

“again.”

“satoru,” you whisper, a shy smile overtaking your lips. soon, they’re captured by gojo’s, moving tenderly against yours. you’re certain you see the sky painted in many different colours before your eyes close, the mere thought of gojo sending you reeling and cheeks flushing.

gojo’s kisses are slow tonight, savouring every part of your mouth before he slips his tongue in, entwining with yours as he continues to make you fall harder. it works. breathlessly, you smile into the kiss to hopefully get a bit of air, feeling the reply of a grin on your lips when his irises open up to look at yours.

“love you.” you murmur, ghosting along his lips before he smashes his lips against yours again, albeit clumsily that you two let out collective laughs.

people only ever call him gojo satoru, the strongest. he’s never found much identity, always a pawn for the higher-ups to play with, but when sa-to-ru falls from your lips? god, he can compare it to being caught in cupid’s arms. you give meaning to his name — satoru, satoru, satoru, you whisper, knowing that it meant enlighten, and he’s certain that’s all you do whenever you’re around.

you’re always lighting up his life, always loving him with no restraint.

“angel?” gojo whispers in between kisses. you respond sleepily, tracing incoherent patterns along his chest. the words are caught in his throat when you fingers go over the 悟 of his name, three syllables packaged into a single character. he didn’t expect you to remember, but it breathes some life back into him when you do it over his heart. he can’t remember the last time he let someone trace his name so intimately.

“your first name is beautiful, satoru, just like you,” you peck his lips. “now rest, you have a long day tomorrow.”

“i love you too,” the other replies a little late. his heart clenches up at the sight of you, caged and safe in his arms that he isn’t sure what to do with his hands. “i love you. i love you. i love you so much.”

with one last lingering kiss, you both succumb to slumber in peace, with gojo satoru’s first name in the palm of your hand, and his last name aching to take its place in front of your own.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (prt 8)

Masterpost

The next day was less chaotic but not by much. They had to go through everything they’d taken from the Fenton’s lab, and reluctantly accepted Danny and Jazz’s help with the task because they were familiar with the tech. That was surprisingly needed since all of their gadgets were extremely obtuse and looked like household appliances. It was honestly surprising how good Danny was with all of this stuff, he knew what everything was, how to take it apart and how to put it back together to show the heroes how it worked. 

“They don’t all work for humans. Some have to be fueled with ectoplasm so they need to be constantly refueled. Dad used to wear a backpack full of the stuff ghost busters style but that’s really not practical so this one isn’t very useful to you. I can use it though,” Danny said as he screwed the last part back on the.. Whatever it was. 

“Okay, but why does it look like a blender?” Tim asked, baffled and impressed.

“Oh that’s because that’s what it was built out of,” Danny said with a crooked smile. “We repurposed a lot of household items into tech. Give me a couple toasters and a microwave and I’ll have three specter deflectors ready for you before dinner time.” He said as he pressed his hand against one of the gins and it started glowing intently green.

“Here don’t drop it,” He said tossing it to Batman, who did manage to catch it. “I fueled it with three shots, just in case Vlad shows up or another ghosts threatens you. And actually even with your charms I would feel a lot better if you all had specter deflectors since you’re all involved with me now,” He sighed and rubbed his face. 

“Well… we can get you toasters and a microwave but we can also get you more advanced parts if those will work better,” Bruce told Danny, gingerly holding the odd gun away from himself. It wasn’t a traditional gun so it wasn’t upsetting but he still didn’t like it. 

Danny looked very tempted but he shook his head. “No I’d better do it with what I know, I can get it done faster that way and they work. I’d love to play with some of those more advanced parts though. I’m sure I can come with some fun stuff.” 

Uh oh, Bruce didn’t like that look on Tim’s face, the last thing he needed was more encouragement! But Danny was the child of mad scientists, he would get along perfectly with Tim, Bruce was going to have to keep a close eye on them to make sure they didn’t accidentally make a death ray. 

“You can join me in my lab later,” Tim offered hopefully and Danny glanced up at him with a borderline feral grin. 

“That sounds great, I’m sure you have much better lab safety than my parents. Love engineering, would hate to die a second time.” He said it like a joke, just the way Jason tended to. Jazz laughed, but only to encourage her brother’s coping method, no one else did. 

“Alright, we’ll go to the nearest home appliance store and get you some toasters and microwaves,” Bruce said. 

“Hell ya, I should have been adopted by a rich family years ago,” Danny cackled. Oh dear, he’d been so traumatized yesterday Bruce hadn’t realized he was Feral. Why did this keep happening.

He informed Alfred of Danny’s request and by the time they finished going over the more confusing inventions and left for lunch the appliances were waiting for Danny in the lab that he and Tim would apparently now be sharing. Danny immediately dove on the machinery starting to take them apart with practiced hands. He seemed calm and in his element but Tim stayed to supervise, both just in case something went wrong, and because it was His lab and they hadn’t talked about rules of cohabitation yet.

Bruce left them to it. Alfred had informed him that Jason had arrived and headed straight to the kitchen without saying hello to anyone else. It wasn’t a surprise, he was closest to Alfred, he’s want to help with making dinner, and get the basic scoop from his most trusted family member before having to face anyone else. Bruce knew better than to intrude on that, but God did he want to. 

Regardless of what his children thought Bruce cared deeply for all of them, and he hated that sometimes they doubted it. He wished he was better at telling and showing them, but he’d managed to convince himself it was too late for him to change so he didn’t have to face the years of mistakes and trauma he had endured and inflicted. No matter what what image he tried to project, he was still only human.

He went to his office, but he couldn’t settle to anything, he did a little bit of this, and little bit of that, and just ended up pacing the carpeted floor. He left them alone as long as he could before he gave in and went down to the kitchen.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just needed a cup of coffee,” He said as casually as he could. The looks Alfred and Jason gave him said neither of them actually believed his excuse, which was fair. “It’s good to see you Jaylad, thanks for coming.”

“Well I’m not going to miss out on a new brother am I? You gonna have this one running around in spandex too B?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, it made Bruce wince but it Was progress because he was acknowledging their familial ties. 

“I’m almost two years too late to stop him,” Bruce said regretfully. “It’s been… a lot has happened. I’m sure Alfred caught you up on most of it, but I’d like to talk to you before you meet either of the siblings.”

“Trying to make sure I won’t be a bad influence?” Jason asked and Bruce couldn’t tell if he was joking or accusing. 

“No, nothing like that,” Bruce said, holding up his hands. “I just want to talk.”

Jason hummed skeptically, scrutinizing Bruce before turning back towards Alfred. “What do you think Alfie, can you spare me?”

“I always appreciate your help master Jason, but I can manage on my own,” Alfred assured, sounding amused. 

“Alright, to your office then?” Jason asked, turning back towards Bruce. 

“Or the sitting room, whichever would be more comfortable.”

“Office,” Jason said firmly, this was the distance that he was keeping between them. They worked together now, and Jason cared for his siblings, but he kept them all at arms length. For everyone’s safety really, if they set him off he didn’t want to hurt them, and he didn’t want to be set off either. It always felt like shit. Jason followed Bruce to the office and sprawled in the soft chair across the desk from Bruce’s. He remembered being a kid, sitting properly and nervously in this chair across from Bruce hoping desperately for his approval. How times change.

“I just wanted to talk to you about the new kids” Bruce started and Jason waved him away.

“I’m really not going to corrupt them or anything, I Probably won’t be around enough to make a difference anyway.” Jason said dismissively.

Bruce took a deep breath, controlling his expression and folding his hands on the table. “That’s not it Jaylad, Alfred must have told you that the boy died and came back?” 

Jason tensed and green swirled in his vision, it was the same thing that Bruce had seen in Danny when Zatana asked about Phantom. “Ya he did.” Defensive and insecure.

“It seems like he, and his sister who was sort of a caretaker to him, know a lot more than we do about the effect that that has on a person. To help us take care of Danny she gave us a presentation about it, it… makes a lot of sense. You should probably talk to her and Danny about it really but I just wanted to apologize. 

“I’ve been trying to fix this, fix… you for a long time and I know I’ve been going about it wrong and I’ve been hurting you.”

“You got a new treatment plan in mind, old man?” Jason asked, his arms crossed and Bruce wished that mistrust wasn’t earned. 

“No,” Bruce sighed looking down. “Really Jason I don’t, I know I was wrong. This is something I just didn’t know I didn’t know about,” He hated his own ignorance, he hated to admit it! He was Batman! The way he kept up with other superheroes was always being prepared for everything and knowing more than everyone around him, but he hadn’t even known there was something there to know!

“This isn’t about that, and it’s not about you staying away from the new kids. Exactly the opposite actually, since they know more about this, and Danny might be one of the few people who really understands what it’s like to die and come back like that, I was hoping you’d spend more time here, around them. I think it might help you both.”

“Huh,” Jason sounded, blinking rapidly because that was the most sincere apology he’d gotten from Bruce and he didn’t quite know how to react to it. “Maybe… maybe.” He hadn’t met the new siblings yet after all, maybe they’d hate each other. 

“Can I meet them now?” He asked looking back up at Bruce curiously. 

“Of course, the girl's name is Jasmine Fenton, called Jazz, the boy goes by Danny. Jazz is turning 18 soon, Danny is 16.” 

Right Tim had mentioned that, so Danny was about 3 years younger than him then. That shouldn’t matter too much, and maybe Tim will be right about the sister and can tease Jason about it. He’d been single for a while and wouldn’t mind changing that.

“Of course, I think you should meet Jazz first, she’s protective of Danny and she hasn’t been very involved in all of this. I think she’d feel better being allowed to… vet you first for lack of a better word. Are you okay with that?” Bruce asked Jason politely. 

“Sure, I don’t really care what order I meet them in and… Look Bruce I know I’m mad at you, and I was really hard on Timmy when everything was still raw. But I’m never going to knowingly hurt a kid, or make life harder for them. If I can help them I will,” Jason said sincerely. 

“Jason, the girl is less than a year younger than you. You’re a kid too,” Bruce said sadly. Jason froze for a moment, Yes he was 19, his mind wasn’t fully developed yet or whatever the hell, but he hadn’t felt like a kid since his death. Even before that, the responsibility for his mother, and then the work as a hero. Bruce wanted soldiers, Jason had never gotten a chance to be a kid really.

“Whatever,” Jason scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and standing up, closing himself off from that sincerity. “Do you know where she is?”

“She’s in the library,” Bruce said, his lips twitching up in a smile. “She loves books almost as much as you did, though she seems to be more drawn to non-fiction.” 

Jason hummed and nodded, heading towards the door since he knew his own damn way to the library, Bruce didn’t have to lead! He did follow through, he was clearly protective of these kids so of course he would want to be there when Jason met them.

When he entered the library he saw a young woman sitting at one of the tables with some sort of text book. Her back was straight and her legs tucked under the chair with her ankles crossed. It looked like she was self consciously trying to look put together. She looked up at them, blue green eyes looking him over critically, he could practically see her picking him apart in her mind and he tried not to fidget.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Jason Todd,” He said, walking over and offering her his hand to shake. She was very pretty, but he was surprised by his own complete lack of attraction, she just didn’t register that way, she seemed more… maternal almost.

“Ah, the dead son,” She chuckled, getting up from the table and reaching out to shake his hand, her grip was strong and her hands were soft and cool. “It’s nice to meet you, they mentioned you. Nothing bad,” She added when she saw her face. “And I don’t mean to be rude, I know some people are sensitive about their deaths being mentioned. Danny jokes about it all the time so… I just wanted to let you know that I know, and I accept you.” Jazz said with a warm smile. 

Her easy acceptance caught him off guard and before he could help it he was baring his teeth at her in a snarl, defensive and probing, did she mean it? She grinned sharper bearing sharp fangs at him in a matching sign of… friendly aggression, something inside him settled. He chuckled and took a step back. “Well thanks, nice to meet someone who doesn’t look like they bit a lemon every time I make a death joke.”

“It’s your death, as long as it’s healthy you can own that however comes naturally to you,” Jazz promised, sitting back down at the desk. “I’d love to talk more and get to know you, but we can do that later. You really should meet Danny.”

“You don’t want to come with us,” Bruce broke in, sounding worried. Jason had almost forgotten he was there, he hadn’t realized how… all encompassing the short interaction had been.

“I’ll probably follow,” Jazz said with a shrug, her gaze turning stern as she looked at Bruce. “Remember what I said about never breaking up a fight,” She told him firmly. 

Well if that didn’t make Jason nervous he didn’t know what did. Why would he fight with Danny? Would Danny fight with him? Why? “You really think it’s a good idea for us to meet? Why would we fight?” Jason asked her sharply.

“Of course,” she agreed, her eyes softening as she looked back at him, though her expression remained a little mischievous. “It’ll be good for both of you.”

Next

[wileys-russo]

leah williamson 🫶

reader saying i like you instead of i love you to leah and leah getting annoyed

the bet II l.williamson

"do you want anything love?" your girlfriend murmured quietly where she was squished in beside you, about to get up to grab a drink where you were sat down for a movie night with some of your friends.

"another slice of pizza? please." you smiled hopefully which the blonde returned. "course, anything for you." she mumbled pecking your lips a few times sweetly causing your cheeks to warm.

"i love you." you sighed happily, both of you staring into one anothers equally as lovesick eyes. "i love you." leah whispered back kissing your nose. "i love you more." you grinned kissing her cheek. "i love you more." leah retaliated with a cheeky smile, pecking your lips.

"oh would ya give it a rest! shut up man." katie moaned from the floor, a pillow smacking the two of you in the head as the irish woman launched it your way.

"i love you most, end of." leah warned with a playful glare, kissing you softly again before grabbing the pillow and standing, swinging it with much more force than katie had as it thwacked her in the side of the head causing her to nearly topple over.

"oi!" you rolled your eyes with a snicker as the older girl shot up to her feet and chased your girlfriend out of the room, the sounds of their squabble echoing from the kitchen.

"you are down so bad." laura shook her from beside you as you gave her a strange look. "who taught you that? shut up!" you laughed quietly, knocking your shoulder into hers. "she's not lying. disgustingly in love!" beth fake gagged from on the other lounge.

"you're one to talk bethany!" you scoffed at the girls own neediness. "i do not shove my tongue down my girlfriends throat or feel the need to tell her i love her every thirty seconds!" beth defended herself, movie now forgotten.

"leave them be they are very sweet." lia chuckled as you sent her an appreciative smile before turning a frown on beth again. "i am not needy! and we don't do that." you huffed at the accusation.

"you do. i bet ya couldn't go one full training session without telling leah you love her or lockin lips!" beth challenged as your eyes narrowed and laura oohed beside you as again you shoved her.

"i could too! you're on mead, tomorrow." you accepted, beth settling back into the lounge with a satisfied grin as viv rolled her eyes at the theatrics.

~

"do you want a tea for the meeting babe?" leah asked sweetly as you played with her fingers where they were interlocked with your own under the table, everyone finishing up breakfast as todays session was an earlier one.

"yes please." you smiled appreciatively, leaning in to peck her lips but with a subtle kick to your ankle you turned your head to glare at beth as leahs lips fell to your cheek instead.

"forgetting something are we?" beth smirked as your girlfriend left and you remembered the bet from last night, sighing tiredly and shaking your head. "no! starts from now." you huffed, shoveling the last mouthful of your fruit salad into your mouth.

"you won't even last the first hour." beth teased with a smug smile as you ignored her and engaged lia in conversation instead. "here you go gorgeous." leah dropped back down in the seat to your other side with a smile, placing down the takeaway cup of tea in front of you.

"thanks baby." you hummed appreciatively, everyone starting to make a move for the meeting room. "i love you." leah smiled softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "i appreciate you." you returned her smile, booping her nose with your finger.

~

"stop!" you whispered with a grin, shoving away leahs hand which wandered higher and higher up your thigh, the blonde giving you a cheeky smile seemingly in quite the mood today.

"no." leah whispered back, hand darting out to pinch you as you smacked her, the two of you resorting to playing footsies as the meeting continued.

"do you want to go for dinner tonight? i can call and book us in somewhere after this." leah asked quietly, arm now draped across the back of your shoulders as your hand rested on her knee, finger tracing absent minded shapes.

"yeah that sounds nice." you agreed, kissing her cheek quickly and turning back toward the staff at the front of the room. "i love you." leah whispered, finger dipping just below the collar of your training top.

"we could go to that new italian place that just opened? i'm sure they have a childrens menu for you baby." you teased, leah rolling her eyes playfully as you both paid closer attention once the defensive tactics came out.

~

"looking good number twelve." leah whistled as she wandered past where you were squatting, steph shooing her away as to not distract you as the two of you were partnered up to spot one another.

"away with you!" steph warned as leah sent you a wink and a wolfish grin over the australians shoulder and returned to her own program where kim was waiting for her.

but of course considering the mood leah was in it wasn't long before she was hovering nearby again, everyone now having broken off individually to stretch and cool down.

"hello sexy." leah dragged her mat over and sat right beside you where you were rolling out some tension in your hamstrings. "hi." you smiled, not missing the way her eyes roamed your legs as your free foot shot out to kick her.

"eyes to yourself thanks we're in a work environment." you teased, switching over to the other leg and exhaling as the knot you were working on slowly started to dissipate.

"not illegal to look now is it? don't think i could bare to exist in a world where i couldn't stare at you." leah cheesed with a charming smile, laid down on her mat.

"stop perving on me and start stretching williamson." you flicked her with your towel as her grin only grew but she focused a little more on her stretches. "i love you." your girlfriend sang out with a wink, grabbing her roller and starting to work on her calves.

"i love me too, so glad we have so much in common." you teased, well aware of beths eyes on you from the other side of the room as you gave her a sarcastic wave.

"i love you." leah repeated, a slight frown growing when you pretended not to hear her, turning to work on your other leg as you chatted away to laia who was on your other side.

"i love you." you felt your girlfriend poke at your shoulder and you could practically hear the pout in her voice as again you pretended not to hear. "ow! leah." you felt a sharp pinch to the back of your leg and glared at her over your shoulder.

"i love you. say it back!" the blonde scowled as you rolled your eyes. "don't pinch me when you don't get what you want, you're not a five year old." you warned, finishing your stretches and getting to your feet leaving her behind with a bewildered look.

~

"thats good thats good! now press in tighter leah, block off any options of them getting it in the air lotte." jonas called out, arms crossed as you sat on the sideline with your water bottle, the team split into four as a series of small 6 on 6 games were being played as a cool down.

"so, how are you surviving without all your love and affection?" beth slung an arm round you from where she sat beside you making you roll your eyes. "perfectly fine! see i told you i could do it." you smiled victoriously.

"do what exactly?" alessia asked curiously from your other side with a raised eyebrow. "beth bet me i couldn't go all of training without kissing or telling leah i love her." you rolled your eyes as alessia hummed and beth made kissy noises at you.

"well that makes sense then." the blonde shrugged as you gave her a curious look. "what makes sense?" you questioned as beth finally left you be to annoy poor stina instead. "you haven't picked up on it?" alessia asked surprised as you shook your head.

"picked up on what?" "on leah!" "what about leah?" "how she's acting." "less i would appreciate it if you stopped speaking in riddles and explained yourself please."

"she's been grumpy all afternoon. even asked me if you'd said anything about being upset with her, and you've been avoiding her all training." alessia pointed out, taking a large scull of her water.

"well yeah because she looks like a kicked puppy every time she says she loves me and i don't say it back!" you groaned quietly as alessia smiled. "only proving my point that you are both disgustingly in love. its only been a few hours!" beth chimed in as you sent her a glare.

"less! don't encourage her." you smacked your friends knee as she grinned at beths words, the whistles blowing to end the session as everyone gathered around listening as the water bottles were passed around.

you could feel your girlfriends eyes burn a hole in the side of your head and it took every ounce of your self restraint not to turn to meet her gaze, skin prickling under the intensity of her stare as everyone was dismissed.

"now remember training doesn't officially end until you leave colney. no cheeky change room kisses!" beth warned with a wag of her finger and a grin as you pushed her off you with a huff and headed away back toward the training center.

"oi!" you heard the familiar accent call after you but pretended not to hear, walking a little faster as leah ran to catch up with you. "are your ears blocked today?" you skidded to a halt as leah popped up in front of you, arms crossed over her chest and scowl embedded into her features.

"maybe a little, hot shower might help." you tried to duck past her but had no luck as your body thumped into hers. "you're being weird. why are you being weird?" leah questioned, and you shot beth a glare over her shoulder as she waved at you happily.

"i'm not being weird. i'm just...tired." you lied with a small smile, patting her shoulder and stepping around her as her steps fell in line with yours easily, legs longer considering she was taller as again she stepped in front of you.

"okay. when we get home i'll run you a bath and give you a massage and we can take it easy babe, we can go for dinner another night." her hands gently fell either side of your face, eyes bright with concern as your stomach dropped with guilt.

"sounds good." you nodded with a smile, ducking as she leaned in to kiss you, her lips meeting thin air as you pried her hands off and hurried toward the training centre.

"babe!" leah huffed after you with a confused frown, concern melting into annoyance at your odd behavior as you spared her a glance over your shoulder and practically sprinted off away from her.

it didn't take long before she cornered you again, towering over you at your cubby. "are you mad at me? did i do something? say something?" leah asked, eyebrows knitted together as you shook your head.

"then why are you being so weird! you won't kiss me, you won't tell me you love me, anytime i try to speak to you you run away?" leah threw her hands up with a deep exhale and yet another signature scowl.

"yeah, you are being pretty weird! why is that?" beth decided to chime in, false concern written on her face as leah agreed and set her glare down onto you. "baby. i'll explain when we get home, promise." you stood and squeezed her bicep.

"kiss me." leah demanded, tapping her lips expectantly. "leah!" you blushed, well aware of more of the girls tuning into your conversation. "what? you don't normally care unless we're in the middle of a game or a session. so, kiss me." your girlfriend demanded again as beth grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

"i can't. i've got a...a cold sore. so we should get home!" you grabbed your bag and tried to leave but the taller girl moved to be in the way. "you didn't complain about a cold sore this morning." leahs eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"its only come up today." you lied, clutching your jaw with a fake wince of pain as alessia shook her head from behind leah at the display. "fine. i love you." leah spoke, raising an eyebrow.

"i value you." you replied with a soft smile which did nothing to melt the annoyed frown in her features. "i love you." she repeated again, tapping her foot impatiently.

"i appreciate you." "i love you." "i really like being with you." "i love you." "i really like you." "i. love. you." leahs jaw clenched as beth watched on with delight at your obvious struggle as the changing rooms started to empty, viv and alessia watching on with a wince at the awkward exchange.

"thank you?" you tried every way you could to get around it, though that last response seemed to be the final nail in the coffin as the vein in your girlfriends neck looked ready to pop.

"really? you can walk home then!" leah spun around on heel, having driven the two of you today, and started to storm towards the exit as alessia shoved you from behind and gestured toward leah.

"wait!" you called after her, the blonde pausing but not turning around as you chanced a glance to beth whose smile almost looked like it was hurting her it was so wide.

"i made a bet with beth." you sighed, leah spinning around and eyes narrowing as she strode on back toward you. "you what?" the older girl stopped once again chest to chest with you.

"beth wouldn't stop teasing me about how affectionate we are and calling me needy, so she bet me that i couldn't go one training session without saying i loved you or kissing you." you admitted, the defender scoffing.

you prepared yourself for her to rant and rave, to yell and scold, to drive home without you and for a night to be filled with grovelling.

what you didn't prepare for was for leah to look right over your head, glare directed not at you but at beth who paled at the sight. "beth." leah dropped her bag to the floor and gently moved you aside, fists balled by her side.

"five, four, three-" leah started to count down, beths eyes widening as she looked around the room, jumping to her feet and running off as leah took off after her. "leah!" you called after her with a groan, hearing them start to argue outside.

"huh, that was not what i expected." alessia pondered as you sighed, grabbing both your bag and your girlfriends and hurried off. "really?" you stepped out of the change rooms to find leah had beth in a headlock yelling at her, the shorter girl fighting to throw her off.

"leah!" you called out, both of them stopping at your words, beth still locked up in your girlfriends arms. "i love you very very very much. can we go home now please? and i'll show you." you spoke calmly, your girlfriend instantly perking up at your words as beth groaned in disgust at the not so hidden intent behind them.

"oi!" the girl yelled as leah let go but not before pushing her to the floor, ignoring the colorful language hauled her way as viv appeared and helped her up, a smile of amusement painted on her lips having already tried to warn beth against meddling between the two of you.

"hey you lost the bet!" beth yelled after you in reminder as leah grabbed her bag and slung an arm over your shoulder steering you toward the exit. "yeah i did. but we didn't actually bet anything for if i lost beffy, have a nice night!" you grinned at her as her jaw dropped in realization.

"come here." leahs soft voice commanded your attention, her hand grabbing your jaw and tilting your head to the side, her lips ravishing yours as whistles sounded after the two of you at the display.

"leah." you pulled away with a slight blush as her tongue swirled the inside of your mouth and she sucked on your bottom lip before dragging her teeth down to release it with a slight pop, smirk present in her features.

"what? you've got a lot of making up to do baby girl."

[enmie]

*♡∞:｡.｡ Just a Nap ｡.｡:∞♡*

➶ bllk's Sae, Kaiser, Rin, and Shidou and their goofy selves try to make you prove your love

➶ they fake sleep and you carry them back to bed

➶ poll results. cw: cussing. insults. implied fem reader

𓅪 first bllk fic lesgoo

𓅪 this took three polls. THREE.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Sae Itoshi's

Each tick of the clock, each breath from your lips, each blink of your eye— you watched Sae's sleeping presence. He looked so peaceful you didn't dare disturb him, no matter how much of a trouble maker you were to him. There was something so off and comforting about his shallow breaths, in comparison to his usual stoic attitude, the one that pushes you away. But you stay anyway.

And he thinks he's such a little trickster.

Sae's eyelids flutter to to take a peek at what you were doing, his breathing shallow and soft to make the act convincing. Of course he's fake sleeping. He would never fall asleep in front of you.

He flinches. No, he doesn't jump, but he internally flinches when you attempt to stand him up from the couch, his one arm flung over your shoulder. It was one hell of a movie night, but every movie you watched was plain trash.

He could've spent the night practicing, yeah, but who was he to turn you down? All that's in his head now is fuck, fuck, fuck, I need to wake up—

— but everything's too good. He needs to know what happens next.

You struggled to lift him up. What was he, double your weight? You were tiny compared to this man, what the hell were you thinking trying to get him up? With a groan, you stand up, your weak knees trembling as you lift one side of his body, the other side hanging. But you notice he was on his feet. Maybe it was a reflex.

"Alrighty, let's get ya to bed," You say more to yourself than to him, each step excrutiatingly slow. Slow and shaky, your breath more ragged than his. Why were you even putting in this much effort?Effort wasted. Because you throw him onto the bed, hands on your knees as you panted. You thought he was a light sleeper, initially.

Vulnerability wasn't something he usually showed, yet here he was now, spread eagle on his twin-sized bed, hair in his face and his arm red from your tight hold. You did have a harder time.

And that's why you hated, hated him for opening his left eye, and he had his lips in a smug little smirk, that shitty bastard. You grumbled, throwing a pillow at him.

"What's wrong? You're surprisingly strong, y'know," He remarks, sitting up to fix his hair. Sae ran his fingers through the magenta strands, his eyes looking tired but accomplished.

"Lose some weight so I can carry you next time." You muttered angrily, sulky as you sat on the edge of his bed. "There's a next time?" He slips himself down the bed to sit next to you, gauging your reaction. And that goddamn smirk is still on his face, to the point where it seems his eyes are smirking, his ears are smirking, his cheeks, too. So annoying.

"Hopefully..."

"Not,"

"Yes,"

"No,"

"..."

"Fine." He eventually sighs. "I'll come over again, pendejo."

Michael Kaiser's

It was the first time you ever saw him asleep. Of course you wouldn't know this grown ass man still takes naps in the afternoon. The sun was up and blazing, glazing its color on Kaiser's undershirt, his muscles bare and exposed. You've never seen him like this, vulnerable, not teasing you, not absolutely annoying you. It was comforting in a way.

But Kaiser thinks he's such a clever man. He stifles a laugh, sensing how you're admiring his sleeping form, his fake sleeping form. He's supposed to be practicing with some people today, but he chooses to mess with you over anything else. It's just how he shows his love.

So it surprises him, really, when you start to stand up and grab his waist and back, supporting his body as much as you could. Were you really going to take him to his room? He lets out an audible groan, but keeps his eyes closed for convincing effect.

With every step you take, he drags his feet across the wooden floor, your grunts loud and strained. Why does he have to be so heavy?

You immediately let go of Kaiser once he was in his room, collapsing the supposedly sleeping body on the mattress.

Then this jerk starts laughing. Boisterously. Disturbingly. Honestly, you feel so shocked that you could only blink slowly and process everything that's happening, the man you thought was sleeping was laughing so hard it pisses you off.

"Jerk!" You exclaim. "Oh, you're such a comedian! You really do love me!" He says, sitting up to see that reaction he found so cute. "I was helping you, fucking bastard,"

"That's me," He says confidently, flexing his bicep. And it annoys you.

"Now, if you excuse me, I got to practice," He stands up, getting dizzy at the sudden adjustment. But before he even leaves, he wobbles to the drawer unexpectedly, pulling out a face towel with cute rubber ducks on it. "Here, saviour. For your sweat."

"I really can't tell if you're trying to be nice or pissing me off," You groan, wiping your forehead and your sweaty neck.

He looks at you with some sort of... admiration, in his eyes. And he laughs again, softer and more genuine this time. "I think you should come watch me practice." You roll your eyes. "After I tore all my muscles carrying you? You wish, asshole,"

Kaiser's never felt this way. Why was he finding your anger so cute? He puts on his jersey for practice, his long hair getting snugly stuck underneath the neckline. So you go and untuck it, getting dangerously close to this man.

Yeah. He thinks he's in love.

"You're so damn small, it must have been a miracle when you carried me here," He whispers. Kaiser doesn't whisper. He yells. A lot.

"Miracle, me?"

"... Yeah, you."

Rin Itoshi's

One turn of a head, and he's fast asleep? That was so unlikely of him, you think. Because, you're talking about Rin Itoshi here, asleep, beside you, so close you could feel the faint pitter patter of his heart and the even fainter breath. So deep into that slumber you felt bad even thinking of waking the striker up.And he doesn't usually mess with people.

But he wants to see that reaction that he finds ever-so-slightly, cute. When you scrunch up your nose in frustion, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids low. He loves it. It's one of the only things he finds himself looking for in every living moment he spends. But he doesn't quite know why, why he adores your long hair and every curve of your body he longs to touch.

He's cute, too. But Rin doesn't know that. Only you do. Or, at least, you're convinced you're his biggest fan, his best-est friend, or even something along the lines of.

That's why— he's currently trying to peek at you, while also trying to keep pretending he's asleep. Oh! He shuts his eyes tightly, once you turn to look at him. No, no, if he gets caught without saying it himself, it'll be embarrassing. So maybe... maybe he should just come clean already, and—

Panic, panic, panic.

You can hear his breath hitch softly and his eyelashes flutter faintly. Maybe he just does that. You take him by the arm, throwing it around your neck and over your shoulder to take him to his room, to let the pretty boy fall asleep. And oh, how you struggled.

But Rin thinks he's struggling more, trying desperately to stop himself from getting too flustered at the proximity he didn't expect. He makes himself lighter so you didn't have a harder time. He'd usually weigh himself down purposefully, or not fake sleep at all, but he found himself acting different around you.

Not too different. Only... less indifferent. You were more tolerable than the rest.

So once he plops down onto the bed, free from your helping grip, he feels this longing. This yearning. Your touch was too much for him, and now he wants more and more and more. You begin walking away, deciding to let him sleep, but—

"Sorry." Your head snaps in his direction. You'd almost gotten whiplash.

"Huh?! What happened to your sleeping ass?" Still half-lidded, Rin fiddles with the hem of his sweater, avoiding all form of eye contact with you. He just tricked you. And he was guilty. So unlike him. "I wasn't asleep."

You cross your arms with a smirk on your face, oh you knew well. That look on his cute face says it all, that he enjoyed how you were nice enough to accompany his heavy weight up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"You act better than I thought," You tell him. He just hums in agreement, coming back to his original attitude.

"Little trickster."

And when he looks up at you— oh, you think you're about to fold.

"I know."

Ryusei Shidou's

He's snoring loudly, smiliarly to an old man. Damn this boy. Was he serious or was he serious? You think it's very Ryusei Shidou of Ryusei to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation, because not even ten minutes into the topic of leopards, he's passed out, his head facing the side. No wonder the idiot's snoring.

But it's all an act.

Ryusei is wide awake. He may have underestimated how hard closing his eyes for more than a milisecond was, but he is more than determined to see if you'd kiss him with a true love's kiss. Like a fucking Disney princess.

You groaned, standing up with your hands on your hips. You theorize that he's fake sleeping, since there's a goddamned smirk on his face, but you believe it anyway. "Holy shit, you fell asleep, you asshole." With a sigh, you decide to snap a photo of him before deciding to be a nicer bitch for once.

He accidentally opens his eyes and groans when you start lifting him up, but closes them tightly as to keep the act up. Where were you taking him? Upstairs? Ryusei hears your grunts as you desperately try to grab him. He falls back on you anyway, his back pressing against your chest and tensing up. Not like you felt it.

"Alrighty, here we go," This man is eighty percent muscle mass, and you were attempting to carry him?

Get this, he was so comfortable despite your struggle, that he actually falls asleep. For what seems like a mere split second, his breath shallows and his snores get quieter, and his muscles relax on you. You're confused.

The floorboards creak with every step you took, dragging the blonde by his waist weakly. Maybe if he didn't go to the gym so much. With a grunt, you throw him on the bed feeling strained as hell. "Fuck you, honestly."

Walking to the edge of the bed, you pull out your phone to see the picture, and there's this laughter. His laughter. You sigh as you shake your head, knowing your first thought was right after all. He wasn't really sleeping.

"What? Had a hard time?" Ryusei teases, the volume of his laughter baffling you. "Shut up."

"No, no, I'll sleep, I'll sleep," He makes a snoring sound again, but not before laughing his ass off. You're extremely annoyed. You regret being nice. But, you have to admit it, his laugh did bring a smile to your face, in some weird way.

He sits up to peek at your phone not-so-sneakily, chorting. "Ya even took my pic!"

You squeak, and find Ryusei immediately at your side, looking at his fakely asleep self on your phone. His hand is on your waist instinctively, as he stares with that smile, that grin you used to hate. But you love it now.

"You're so obsessed with me," He says. "You gonna make it a wallpaper like a lovesick simp?"

Turning your head and smirking, he blushes. Yeah, he might just be into every other girl, but you're the only one who made him blush that much.

"Maybe so,"

"... Fuck you."

ⒺⓃⓂⒾⒺᛌⓈ bllk fanfic

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

You were carrying the fawn in your arms as Daryl walked beside you, one hand on the strap of his crossbow. He couldn't stop himself from glancing sideways at you, taking in the way you were cradling the baby deer that had already fallen asleep in your arms.

Finally, you looked over at him as he stole another glance and you laughed lightly, the smile lighting up your face. "That's like the fifth time I've caught you glancing over here! What is it?"

He shrugged, ducking his head. "Nothin'... s'just... I dunno. Ya just ain't like anybody I've ever met," he said nervously. He hazarded a furtive glance in your direction to see one of your eyebrows cocked up in a question.

"Because of this baby?" you asked, looking down at the sleeping fawn. "What was I supposed to do, just leave her to starve? Those walkers killed her mom." You lifted a hand and ran your finger gently over the soft fur down her back.

Daryl shrugged. "A lot of people would've left it... or—put it down," he said. "Ain't gonna be easy to keep her goin'."

"We'll figure it out. I'll find some formula or something somewhere. Besides, she's not a newborn. Eventually she'll start grazing."

Daryl smiled at you again. "It ain't just this. Yer just—different, I guess."

You laughed again. "Okay... Hopefully in a good way."

He ducked his head again. "Yeah. Ya just—despite how the world is now, ya do little things that make it... better."

You hummed a thoughtful noise. "Well, you do too. A lot of us do, to keep each other going."

Daryl scratched thoughtfully at a spot on the back of his neck. "Yeah, but—it ain't just that. I—I ain't good at tryin' to explain it..." he trailed off. In truth, he could have, but his nerve was rapidly diminishing. You were the person that treated him with the most softness, the most kindness, the most steadfast belief in him as he was and you were strong at the same time. He didn't understand how you did it... and he was quickly figuring out that he'd fallen for you a long time ago. "Let's just get that little one home and warm, yeah?"

Prompt: "You're not like anyone I've ever met."

[prncessjaeger]

eren and his mystery cheerleader gf! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

syp: no one believed eren had such a pretty gf…until now

trin speaks!: be mindful i might have errors. it’s normal.  

“so where’s your so-called "girlfriend" at? or did you make this one up too like the last time-”

“oh fuck off, connie, that was one time, and i was 12!” the rest of his friends surrounding him laughed at his embarrassment, (apparently he was the only one without a girlfriend so he made up having one…like i’m talking fake messages and everything.) currently, they were at a rival school’s basketball game since you didn’t go to their school and of course eren decided to come and support you…but his friends armin, connie, and onyankopon tagged along with him, wanting to see who his “special lady” was. “so is the game gonna start or…?” “uh, i think? it just turned 6-” armin was cut off with a set of claps and loud stomps from the side of the bleachers, cheerleaders could be heard shouting a set of words while the boys ran out through the middle of them. parents, children and other spectators could be heard yelling in excitement for the intense game that was yet to happen. 

eren looked around to spot you, finding you sitting on the bottom bleacher scrolling on your phone, and the boys traced his eyesight, “bro no way you date that girl sitting on the bottome row?” “huh?” connie pointed at you, “her? she’s toooo fine to be dating you-” “hey?! what’s wrong with me?” “-she should be dating me!” everyone around him rolled their eyes, “if anything she should date me, black love is the best love-” “right, but she’s entitled to date anyone she dates, besides we don’t know her,” armin was received with blank stares from all three of em while ignoring eren’s mumbling claims of, “i’m the one dating her,” soon or later it was halftime, which was a break time for everyone.

the dance team began to perform and all the cheerleaders went their separate ways. connie and armin went to concessions and onyankopon was talking with a girl he’d just met, so eren searched and searched for you, until he felt a pair of cold, soft hands hindering his vision. “guess whooo~”

“my beautiful baby i’d hope?” you kept his eyes covered as you moved infront of him, then removed them happily, “well you hoped right! hi eren!” you hugged him and sat next to him, leaning into his arms, “oh wait- you see our new uniforms?” “yes, its looks amazing- they added glitter to the school letters?” your curls shooks as you rapidly nodded, “yes! and the other sports coaches complained about it, wanting the letters to be unisex but i mean, glitter is glitter, and THEN the coaches made us run 5 laps before the game because someone left their bow at home, and now…” he turned towards you so he could listen to you better, and once the buzzer went off, you had to bid your goodbye, “you taking me home?” “you think you could ride home with sasha - i have the guys and i don’t wanna make it too crowded, i’ll get you once you get home?” your slight frown turned upside down and you noddied happily, “okay! see ya!” you waved enthusiastically and he waved back, sighing in content. “who’re you waving at?”

“my girlfriend?” they all stared at eren for like 5 seconds, then bursted out laughing at him, “oh man eren, you are too funny!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after dropping his friends off, eren sat outside your home, waiting for your arrival and decided to do something that’ll hopefully get into his friends head that he’s actually dating someone. he smirked at his phone, editing up his caption and nearly jumped hearing his car door open, seeing you in his hoodie and some cute grey shorts, “hey baby,” you kissed his cheek and saw his phone, “uhh why are you…?”

“you’ll see.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

can i request for power bottom Butcher (the boys) overstimulating subtop male reader until he's basically crying and shaking? :3 bonus points if reader has powers (but is not a sup)

Billy Butcher x Supe male reader

Ficlet

This lit something in my brain, but I am also tired, so the writing might be kinda messy. I didn’t have any specific powers in mind, but spiderman was in the back of my mind, so kinda based off that.

It’s been hard to get in the smut writing mood for a while, so im tryna dip my toes back into it. Hopefully it’s still good even though I’m rusty.

not proofread 🤞

The motel room was hot and humid, sweat running down the side of your forehead and into your hairline. You could taste the salt whenever you licked your lips, the dingy mattress under you soaked from all the sweat and other bodily fluids that had left not only you but Butcher as well.

The yellowed sheets were streaked with dirt from his heavy boots as he crouched above you, your chest shuddering as his strong hands grasped tightly at your calves. If it wasn’t for your healing factor, dark bruises would have dug into them a while ago, but they faded as soon as Butcher left them on you, making him grumble something about supes and their stupid powers.

You were the only one naked out of the two of you, body glistening in what little light passed in through the blinds, your hair a mess and eyes wet from unshed tears. Butcher had only kicked off his pants, even dragging them down and off, leaving his boots on before he had clambered up onto the bed and shoved your legs up by the knees.

Amazon position, you think it was called, something you had only seen online once or twice. But here was Butcher, smirking down at you as you grip at the sheets, tearing the cheap covers like tissue paper as you panted and moaned. There was something feral in his eyes as you tried to hump up into him, but the way he held your legs and pressed his weight down on you made it almost impossible, even with your super strength.

“B-Butch” you pant out, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to find the words, tongue feeling thick and useless, leaving you floundering like a fish out of water. You two had been going for hours, or rather, Butcher would push and pull at you, put his mouth on you, or jerk you till you were almost there. But then he would pull back, patting you on the head and telling you “Be good” before doing something else.

It could be anything from scrolling through the few channels on the cheap motel tv, to him going out to smoke a cigarette, or leaving to just wander the area or going to the store. The last one he had done before he came back to climb on top of you as he was now, his sturdy body bearing down on you so deliciously.

You were so close, close enough that it made you feel like you were about to cry. Something Butcher could easily tell, if the growing predatory smirk on his face meant anything. A warbled cry left you as he pulled up and off you again, a slick wet noise sounding as his hole pulled off your cock. You didn’t need to look to know that your length was a deep pained color, your balls so full and heavy that they felt almost as tortured as your cock.

Butcher laughed, voice heavy and dominant in the way that made your brain feel like mush melting out of your ears. Your bottom lip drew up and wobbled as you tried hard not to beg or cry, vision growing so blurry with tears even as Butcher’s hand reached down and patted your cheek. “Come on pup, you can take it, can’t ya?” he laughed, his voice so deliciously taunting and cruel that it made you throb, precum pouring out of your slit and down your sensitive aching shaft.

“Ya wanna be good for me, I know you do. My little supe” Butcher purred, leaning down just enough to ghost a kiss against the crown of your head. His satisfied tone made the tears spill over, a shaky sob leaving your chest as you dug your fingers into the mattress, a loud rip ringing out throughout the motel room.

The tsk that left Butcher made your heart ache, another pitiful pained sob leaving you. But this time it was not from the gut aching need to cum, but the very idea that you might have disappointed him. As his hand cradled your face more surely, you couldn’t help but nuzzle into it, kissing at his callused palm as you whimper out broken slurred apologies.

The silence felt heavy and loaded, but in the end, Butcher just sighed like one would sigh if they found out their pet had chewed up the carpet. “Can’t expect a supe like you to control himself. But ya did good enough, good boy” he rumbled out. And before you knew it, that tight wet heat was swallowing up your cock once more, punching the breath out of your chest as you keened, lost for words as Butcher started riding you like he was punishing you.

“come on boy, cum for me, show me what a supe like you has to offer” he growled out in that hot purred way, his weight slamming down on you as he worked his knees. You felt dizzy, sweat pouring off your body as you gasped and let out noises closer to a bark than a moan, the noise punched out of you every time his weight fell on your own.

It was almost enough, but there was something missing, even Butcher seemed to realize this. So, as you cried out tears of edging and sensitivity, Butchers strong hand grasped your chin, pressing his thumb and fingers into your jaw to make it unhinge and hang open. Your vision cleared up just enough to see him purse his lips, and watch as he spat into your mouth.

You couldn’t even tell if his spit had hit your tongue before you came, a noise coming from deep inside your chest as your entire body shook, jolts and quivers rushing through you as your entire lower body burned. It felt like you were underwater, his deep voice nothing more than a pleasant hum as he presumably praised you, his body pressing down on yours more insistently until you could only imagine he had finished too.

You felt like a well loved toy when he rose up off of you, standing on the ruined torn mattress as you spread out like an unfolded piece of paper, silent tears still running down your cheeks as you shivered from the aftershocks. A shaky whimper left you as you sensed Butcher getting off the bed and leaving to somewhere, but he was back before you could start crawling out of that blurry but pleasant spot you were in.

Butcher pressed kisses to your sweaty hair as he wiped you down, his voice low as he rumbled more praise and words of affirmation, even though he knew you couldn’t fully register what he was saying yet. His beard tickled as the kisses traveled down to your cheek, before they pressed against your own, Butcher leaving a sweet lingering kiss on your bitten lips.

Easily Butcher picked you up, moving you to the second bed of the motel room. There was no saving of the torn monstrosity that had been the bed he had played with you on all day, with the large rips and the stuffing spilling out. Hed remember to leave extra cash for it when you two left.

With a sigh Butcher shrugged off the rest of his clothes, crawling into bed beside you, letting you melt into his hairy chest as Butcher scrolled through the few channels on the tv. He settled on some Spanish telenovela, a loving huff leaving him as he felt your hands sticking to his chest as you lost grip of your powers. With a last kiss to the top of your head, Butcher settled back, letting you take all the time you needed to come back to earth. After that, he would get some food and drink in you, and a shower, you both needed that.

[mcumorningstar]

begging for more riff x reader smut 🫣 I’d love if they were in a heated argument over riff buying a gun and riff says something disrespectful to reader making her slap him and then they just immediately go at it from the heat of the moment

Bang Bang

pairing: riff (wss) x reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, kinda toxic but kinda cute, unprotected p in v (wrap it!!), riff’s got a gun, (I think that’s everything)

a/n: sorry this took so long I was on vacation. I’ve never done a request before!! Thanks for submitting :) This was more like I don’t wanna lose you sex than heat of the moment but hopefully this is okay!!

Sinking into Riff’s lap was the perfect remedy to a bad day. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer, your pelvis pressed to his.

Usually you would be reduced to a puddle of contentment but the hard press and sharp sting of metal pushed against your lower stomach.

Pulling back, you scrutinise Riff for a moment before tugging up his shirt. A small revolver was nestled in the waistband of his jeans.

“Like Billy the Kid, don’t ya think?” Riff smirked up at you, pretending to shoot bullets from his fingers.

God, it was easy to forget, because of his troubles, but Riff was so young.

“Get rid of it,” You stared at the weapon with wide eyes, “I’m not playing around, Riff. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Born to die young, baby-o,” A wide grin plastered across Riff’s cheeks, smug and teasing. He squeezed your hips but you weren’t impressed.

“You gonna be laughing when you’re on a slab in the morgue?” You tried to stand, wanting some distance between.

“Don’t think like that,” He attempted to calm your nerves and refused to let you move away, pulling you closer.

A manicured nail jabbed into his chest, “Because I sure as hell won’t. I don’t wanna be a widow before I’m a wife.”

Riff sighed, his thumb rubbing against the empty space on your ring finger. An empty space waiting for a promised ring.

“They always bring heat. We gotta be ready,” He reasoned with you but your blood boiled as he removed the gun and examined it.

You scoffed, “This shit is so stupid, Riff!” You shoved his chest and rose from his lap, storming into the bedroom.

Riff followed you with a heavy sigh and heavy footsteps. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“You expect me to go in there with nothing but the clothes on my back?”

“What I expect you to do is use your brain! Your daddy was in the exact same position as these Puerto Ricans you’re going to war with!”

“He was nothing like them.”

“Why? ‘Cause he speaks the language?”

It was a low blow but you wanted him to know how it looked.

“Don’t turn this into something it isn’t! This is a turf war,” Riff tried to level his steadily raising voice.

“Turf war? That slang for prejudice little boys with no jobs and nothing to do but terrorise foreigners?”

“Prej-? You know goddamn well that I’m not like that!Like you know what you’re talking about anyway! I’m not taking life advice from a hairdresser!” Riff snapped and, before he could have the nerve to feel bad, your open palm collided with his cheek.

You stood in silence for a moment as a red mark bloomed against his alabaster skin. It was not the ‘be the better person’ you were trying to drill into him, you knew that, but he pissed you off and it was almost involuntary.

“Shit” Riff jostled his jaw in all directions and rubbed a finger against his reddened ear, “You smack like my ma.”

Your hands cupped your slack jaw, “Baby I’m so sorry.”

Riff spared a glance in your direction as you stepped closer to him.

“Less of the smacking, yeah? I need my good looks or you got nothing to stick around for,” He smiled warily, “I ain’t no murderer, am I?”

You shook your head, biting your lip to hide your thrill at his decision, and smiled softly. Tentatively, you reached up and brushed your fingers against his red cheek.

“I’m sorry, baby. Never meant to damage your pretty face.”

Riff almost melted, his eyes softening, “You think I’m pretty?”

“A real diamond in the rough,” You brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead and cupped his jaw, “I couldn’t bear it if I lost you. Not for something this stupid.”

Riff pulled you closer and pressed his forehead to yours, “Never gonna happen. You’re stuck with me.”

A smile twitched at your lips. Despite the Jets, being stuck with Riff sounded heavenly. He dipped his head to kiss you softly.

“Never,” He whispered, pulling back an inch, his hot breath fanned across your lips.

“Good, because underneath it all, you’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever known. I don’t wanna lose you.”

Riff pulled you back for another kiss. A clash of tongue and teeth as the kiss grew heated. You needed him to know how true it was, needed him to know how much you needed him.

“I love you,” He panted between the hot collision of lips. A soft moan rose from your throat. Riff dropped his hands to your hips, pulling your body flush to his.

Your nails clawed at his neck, fingers getting lost in his hair.

Clothes were shed, lying in piles on the bedroom floor. Riff hovered over you as you lay back on the mattress, pressing himself between your legs.

Clinging to his bare flesh, Riff trailed open-mouthed kisses along your neck and pulled your leg higher on his hip.

His hard cock pressed against you through his boxers, as his hips began to grind against yours.

A breath moan escaped your lips, “Riff… please.”

Usually he would tease you. ‘Please what, baby?’ he would say, but not this time.

Riff nodded over and over again as he pushed down his boxers and pulled your panties down your legs. The full weight of him rested against your bare skin as your lips met again.

With tender hands holding you close, Riff pressed into you. It was slow and sweat beaded on your skin when a low groan from the man above you vibrated against your neck.

“Ugh god,” He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face further against your clavicle, littering messy kisses there.

“Move baby please,” You panted out, rubbing his back with firm fingers.

Riff pulled his hips back a few inches before rocking into you again. He pulled his head out of the shelter of your neck, connecting his eyes to yours.

His hips moved languidly, skin slapping with every collision of his pelvis to yours and pushing against that spot inside you that made your toes curl.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Riff panted, pressing his forehead to yours, “For- for what I- I said. I love you and- and that’s never gonna change. Not for turf, not for nothing.”

The rhythmic strokes of his hips rendered you non-verbal, only capable of moaning and nodding. Your eyes fluttered closed at a particularly hard thrust.

“Look at me, baby,” Riff wrapped an arm underneath your head, the crease of his elbow and the muscle of his bicep your new pillow.

Forcing your eyes open, you met his eyes - a gorgeous swirl of blue and brown in the left.

He’s beautiful.

“Never want to be without you. What was I thinking? Taking a gun? You’re right to call it stupid, baby. So stupid” Riff rambled on. You could tell he was getting close by his loose lips.

Riff mumbled between moans, sloppy kisses and panting breaths against your skin until your chest was soaked in his spit.

It was euphoric. His hand snaked between your sweat slicked bodies, pressed so tightly against one another, to rub circles against your clit.

A loud moan ripped from you and your fingers gripped the back of his head, holding his face so close to yours that you breathed each other’s oxygen. All while staring into the starry night abyss of his eyes.

As the band inside you grew tighter and tighter, you gripped onto Riff tighter. Your legs wrapped around his waist as if he were going to be ripped from you entirely and red crescent moon imprints of your fingernails bloomed against his skin.

“I’m gonna cum. Can’t- can’t hold on,” Riff groaned, doubling down on his efforts between your legs. His thrusts were losing rhythm but he was hitting spots deep inside you and working you with his fingers.

White spots clouded your vision as the band inside you snapped, gushing onto his fingers and cock. The feeling of your orgasm pushed Riff over the edge, whimpering ‘I love you’s’ as he finished inside you.

Warmth bloomed inside you at the feeling and, as you came down from your high, a giddy grin crept onto your lips.

With heaving chests, Riff gazed down at you and a grin equal in size and feeling graced his lips.

“You were right, doll. Nothing is worth sacrificing you for.”

“Oh I’m gonna need that in writing,” You teased, stroking your fingers through his hair.

Riff laughed and playfully bit your jaw until you pushed him off, rolling around the bed with blissful laughter.

He stayed in that night. The gun was gone by the following morning and in its place sat a vase of red roses.

[tojipie]

I love your prison bf toji series so much!! Also, in the newest installment of the series Toji says that Shiu has had a crush on the reader for a while? I’d love to see how this crush developed, how Toji found out and how Shiu dealt with his feelings!!

ughhhhgghgg i love this prompt so much :(( bless your heart you’re a genius <3

prison bf toji series linked here <3

context ! -> fic takes place very early on in reader and toji’s relationship. this is pre-prison and at a point where he hasn’t introduced him to his men yet :D hopefully this makes sense !

content: fem reader, brief piv smut, mentions of incarceration, objectification of reader by stranger, fluff, they make up dw ! jealousy, angst, unrequited love

purple hickeys bloom across your chest as toji makes his way from shoulder to shoulder, pinching bouts of delicate skin between his teeth while length ruts into you.

the drag of his cock is delicious, hitting that special spot at just the right angle from the way he has you laid out on the couch, both legs thrown over his shoulder with your head propped up on a cushion.

toji was always like this after securing a deal at work, soft, sensual, taking his time with your body as an act of celebration. half-empty glasses of champagne still lie on the coffee table where you’d left them, leaving rings of cool sweat on the glass surface.

“gonna cum,” he groans, pulling away from your neck with a pop and blowing cool air against the saliva-soaked hickey. you squirm at the stimulation, throwing your head back as your high creeps up on you t— was that a key in the door?

toji pulls out of you with unmatched speed, reaching for a couch cushion to shield his manhood. he rucks a throw blanket over your body with a string of curses, using his massive build to hide the silhouette of your body from view. 

“what’d i tell you about waltzing into my fucking house?” your boyfriend yells, staring down the suit-clad stranger with a look that screams blood-lust.

the smile that breaks out on the man’s face is nothing short of filthy, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat

“awww didya get us a hooker boss-man?” he sneers, cigarette hanging from his lips. “could’ve waited till i showed up to start but i’m down for whatever.” he laughs, gingerly placing a pristine briefcase on the coffee table before taking your discarded bottle of champagne as a parting gift.

“don’t have too much fun, alright?” he teases, stepping out the door as quickly as he’d come in.

the two of you are speechless for several minutes, looking back and forth between each other, the door he didn’t even bother to close, and the mystery briefcase you’re not sure you want to see opened. 

toji sits up with a string of curses, stalking over to kick the door shut with a sigh. 

“that’s.. shiu,” he mumbles, clearly embarrassed. 

you sit up from your spot on the couch, letting the blanket guarding your modesty slip down to your waist. toji settles down on the opposite side of the couch, arms outstretched to let you climb onto his naked form. 

“handles money,” he clarifies, tracing abstract shapes onto your spine. “my cut from today is in the case.”

“do you trust him?” 

he nods, resting his head in the crook of your neck with a sigh.

you figure that’s all you need to know.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

the apology shiu gives you the next time you meet goes on for ten minutes. variations of “fuck i didn’t know” and “i’m so so sorry i really am” spill from his lips while he bows at your feet, forehead firmly pressed to the wood floor of your dining room.

toji sits at the head of the table, shoveling bites of dinner into his mouth in between heart laughs.

“mmf— tell her again i don’t think she heard ya.”

the truth is you’d kind of forgotten about your boyfriend's right hand after the incident was over. was the hooker comment uncalled for? sure, but judging by the saturated fear in the suit-clad man’s eyes you figure toji had done something to set him straight.

plus you’d both gone two more rounds after the initial embarrassment had died down, making up for the little roadblock on your path to an orgasm. 

“it’s okay, promise,” you say quietly, not entirely sure what to say at this point. the suit-clad man stands again, bowing to both of you with a sigh. 

“now give her our little present,” toji says, stalking over with his arms crossed. 

a sealed bottle of champagne— the same kind he’d so graciously swiped from your home— is placed in the palm of your hands before you’re able to question either of them. 

you shoot the other man a greatful smile, and shiu realizes he quite likes the feeling of your soft hand shaking his.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

toji’s annual new year party was a sight to behold. alcohol, dancers, and booming music was the typical atmosphere, though the event had taken a complete turn once you’d entered the picture. 

gone were the days of loose dollar bills and stray panties littering the floor, the smell of sex and smoke in the air.

in were the days of… a modest bar and fancy catering, much to his men’s dismay.

toji didn’t quite know how to throw a party that could be deemed “professional” but he figured not having strippers at the house might’ve been a step in the right direction. some of the guys even brought their wives this time, fun right?

and so, toji sits toward the back of the room, watching you socialize with a drink in hand, his best friend beside him. 

tension hangs in the air as both men watch you from afar. one with pride, the other with longing.

“do you want her?”

“… what?”

toji doesn’t elaborate on the cryptic question, peering at his friend over the rim of his glass.

shiu pauses, downing the rest of his drink as he thinks of what to say. a warm hand settles on the meat of his shoulder, letting him know it’s ok.

“yeah man, i do,” he admits, too ashamed to look up from the floor.

greed. the word that’d graced toji’s knuckles since the day he turned 19. black ink needled into a canvas of tan skin, bleeding into the rest of the tattoos like water flowing upstream. 

it fit him perfectly. it did then, and it does now. toji always gets what he wants, regardless of how other people feel. a man overcome by what he believes he deserves. 

the hug he’s pulled into isn't filled with malice. the threat of violence isn’t there, unlike the time toji had taken him by the collar and threatened to gut him like a fish over the comments shiu had made the first time he met you. 

this hug is.. soft. inviting. an embrace that tells him “it’s okay, i trust you.” the fact that toji hasn’t bashed his nose into his skull is a telltale sign that there’s no fault in feeling the way he does, so long as he doesn’t act on it.

shiu truly doesn’t know what to say other than yes, he does want you. he wants you to be the one he comes home to each night, he wants your soft skin on his, wants to spoil you and make you smile.

you were kind, attentive, shy at times. the complete opposite of toji and his brutish demeanor. a flower cradled in the hand of a dragon.

but you weren’t his, and you never would be. not when toji had been the one to sweep you off your feet, securing a place for himself in your heart that shiu could never fill. 

and that was ok. he was here for his job, not you. shiu was fine with you being oblivious to his feelings, in fact, it was better that way for the three of you.

that’s exactly why he breaks away from the hug as you pad over to their table, shooting you both an apologetic smile before heading over to the bar. as long as he’d still be able to catch a glimpse of you every now and then, he’d live. 

edit: forgot abt the taglist oopsies 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq @i-literally-cant-with-this @emikokomura @moonriseoverkyoto

[pinkanonwrites]

Repaying The Favor

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 4600+ words NSFW, Valveplug, Miscommunication, First Time, Oral Sex, AFAB Reader - They/Them Pronouns for reader

The sequel to "Oh! That's What That Does?!" is finally here! Same reader, same Rumble, same trying to figure each other out, only this time they get to slam down crazy-style about it. When will Frenzy get his turn in the spotlight? Eventually, I think! Maybe once I've finished a few other pet projects.

NSFW WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

It had been exactly fifteen days since you had last heard from Rumble. 

Not that you’d been counting.

Sure, the cassettes probably had more important things to do than lounge around your workshop waiting for your attention, but that's exactly why it was so odd. They always had better things to do, things that they were pointedly avoiding doing by barging in on your work and taking up what little free space the shop had remaining. But since your little tryst with Rumble, you hadn't seen armor nor optic of any of the usual cassette bot suspects.

Maybe you'd broken some sort of ancient, space robot taboo that you'd never heard of. Or maybe Rumble was just embarrassed that he jizzed all over your jumpsuit. Either way, it wasn't like you had any way of getting ahold of them besides them dropping in, so there wasn't much to be done about the situation but wait.

You were leaving the corner store when you heard it, the cacophonous boom of a jet flying far too close to the tips of the skyscrapers overhead. The sound sent you reeling, bags crumpling to the sidewalk as you hurried to cover your ears. Down the street you could make out the screech of metal smacking against metal, see the flailing limbs of two massive robots staggering clumsily through the street as they traded blows with each other. Neither of them were one you recognized, the red Autobot with the oversized chest window wrestling one of the identical jet Decepticons into a clumsy headlock. As they stumbled about one of them trampled on a car parked along the curb, and you winced as the metal shrieked and crumpled under his massive foot.

Yeah, time to get out of here. You gathered up your bags and ducked into the alley between the buildings, slipping past trash bags and old graffiti, trying not to tread in any unidentifiable puddles. Off in the distance you could hear an emergency siren start to wail, hopefully signaling that whatever the space robots were quarreling over this time would be settled sooner rather than later. All you really wanted was to get back home without any further interruptions.

But as you emerged from the back alley entrance and found yourself hoisted into the air by two massive metal hands around your waist, you'd decided to kiss that chance goodbye. Your bags clattered to the ground once more, bread and fruit and canned goods spilling out around a familiar pair of pedes. When you glanced up to his faceplate, the glow of his visor was nearly enough to blind you.

“Rumble?!”

His visor dimmed enough that you could see his intake, which had just before been pulled into a maniacal grin, drop open in visible shock. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced instead with a tight, furrowed frown. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He barked.

“Buying food. Or trying to, at least.” You glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Ravage pounce on that yellow Autobot with the horns that was always showing up in the news. “You guys having a little play date or something?”

He scoffed out a laugh, quickly stifling it with a clearing of his vents. “Whatsit matter to ya? Didn't think you cared dat much about lil’ old me.”

“Rumble, what…?” Was he seriously pouting? Or maybe trying to guilt trip you? For what, making him cum? “What are you even talking about? I haven't seen you in like, two weeks.”

“Aww, real funny! You know what I mean! I let you poke around in my chassis and run up my charge, an’ after that it's radio silence? Whaddya humans call it… ghosting? Make a mech feel like second-rate shareware, why don't ya?”

You blinked at him once, twice, mind spinning as you tried to process his words.

“Are you- are you mad I didn't call you?”

His optic lights beamed as he bristled, armor flaring with a hiss before clamping tight back to his frame. “I told you to comm me!”

“Rumble, I don't have your number! I couldn't call you even if I wanted to!”

His grip went slightly slack as he stared at you, leaving you dangling from your armpits like a cat. 

“I… I hailed you my frequency. In da EM field.”

“Humans don't have… whatever that is. Do you have a phone number?”

He stared at you again, much longer this time as the discordant crashing of giant metal men continued in the background. Then, with a sudden jolt, you were slipping free of his fingers as he dropped you unceremoniously to the pavement. It wasn't a far fall, just enough to make your feet tingle upon landing. When you looked up you saw he had both servos covering his faceplate, a string of muffled curses eking out between the digits.

Your mind was reeling. He actually wanted you to call him? To… repay the favor? Heat pooled in the pit if your stomach as your mind conjured up wicked memories of his stifled gasps and whimpers, how he’d squirmed beneath you as you prodded around his spark chamber. How behind all the billowing and smashing and Brooklyn-accented bravado, when you got down to the core of him, he was actually kind of… cute.

“You- just- I don’t- Get outta here! Go on, scram! Before you get stomped on or somethin’!” His face plate was flushed and glowing as he shooed at you. You would go, that was certain, you really didn't want to get stepped on after all. But first you were going to say something potentially risky, deeply embarrassing, and undoubtedly very, very stupid.

“Come over.”

His optics shuttered, flickering for a moment as he stared down at you, frozen.

“What?”

“Not right now. Tonight. When you guys are done getting wailed on? Come over.”

He opened his intake, then closed it. When he opened it a second time you caught a wisp of steam slipping through the gap in his dentae. He swallowed, hard. He never stopped staring at you.

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Awright. I'll be there.”

“Cool. Watch out for the yellow guy.”

“Huh-HGGRRK!?!” You stumbled back a few steps just in time for the Autobot to chuck Ravage directly into Rumble’s helm, sending him crashing into the brick wall beside you.

“Sorry! Are you alright?” The little Autobot called. “You should probably get out of here!”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The news was just wrapping up their coverage on the ‘latest Decepticon assault’ when you heard a rap on your warehouse’s roll-up door. There wasn't much to see peering out the window, the street only haphazardly illuminated by old street lights. Not that you really needed to look, there was only one guest you were expecting at this time of night anyway. 

You'd stopped at home first, mainly to take a shower and put on something that wasn’t a pair of mechanic’s overalls. But for some reason the nerves hadn't hit you until right now. You clamped down on the prickle of… anxiety? Excitement? Somewhere between the two? As you pulled the strap at the base of the roll-up, the groan of shifting metal slowly gave way to reveal…

“Are you wearing a bowtie?”

“Not bad, eh? Don't say I never cleaned up or nothin’. Here.” As Rumble stepped from the dark street into the light of the warehouse he pulled something from his subspace: a large, green bottle that he offered to you pinched between two fingers. A bottle of wine. Judging by the label, an expensive bottle of wine.

“Where did you get this?” You turned the bottle over twice in your grip, scanning the details on the back. French Merlot, aged… fifteen years? Holy shit.

“Dat fancy Italian place on the corner of Fourth and Vine! What, ya don't like it?”

“I didn't say that!” Rumble positively beamed as you clutched the bottle. “I just didn't expect it, is all. Are you… wining and dining me right now?”

“Is dat a good thing or a bad thing? Your human movies said you’re ‘sposed to bring a little somethin’ somethin’ before, y’know,” There was a sly, lopsided charm to his grin as he pulled the roll-up back down with his pede, clanking shut behind him, “Before you let me run your charge for a change.”

“You know, you don't have to try so hard to im…press… me.” You trailed off, staring down at the bottle in your hands, then back up to him, then back at the bottle, then him again. When you made eye contact with him the slyness seemed to falter a bit, leaving behind something softer in his smile. Something a little more vulnerable.

 How did it take this long for it to click for you? He was wearing a bowtie, for Christ’s sake. 

“Oh my God you're trying to impress me.”

“Eh?” A fidgeting servo tugged at his bowtie- which appeared to be made of… an old seatbelt? “Nah, you're crazy! Dis is jus’ what humans are ‘sposed to do!”

“Oh my God you are!”

“H-Hey, what'd I say about you and gettin’ big ideas?” He tried to deter you, but your mind was already racing a mile a minute. 

“Do you actually like me? Like, want to date me? Do alien robots even date, cause I didn't know th- MMPH!”

With a massive metal palm pressed to your chest, Rumble pushed you back into your adjustable work table, still sitting at a mostly upright angle from the last time you'd repaired him. The table against your back was cold, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat from his servo as he pinned you in place with his hand. His face was inches from yours as he leaned over you, visor now gleaming with frustration and embarrassment.

“You can't get enough of dis, huh? Like pushin’ my buttons so much?” His servo pinned you down just a touch harder, forcing the air from your lungs in a breathy wheeze. “‘Oh, it's so fun to get Rumble all flustered! Lemme mess wit’ his head a lil more!’ Well maybe it’s Ol’ Rumble’s turn to do da messin’ around, huh? See how you like it when someone’s toyin’ with your sensitive bits.”

He bared his dentae as he spoke, another hiss of steam curling around your cheeks. It made your hair stand on end. A hot thrill ran through you, and you fought the urge to let your knees knock together, confident that Rumble would be able to keep you in place with brute strength alone. You could feel his thumb smoothing back and forth across your shirt, and as he glanced down at his servo the glare of his visor lessened slightly.

“...Why’s your fuel pump goin’ all crazy? You scared or somethin’?”

You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, willing your foggy mind to function. “Not… Not scared, exactly.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before the wickedest, prideful grin crept back up across his faceplate. 

“Oh? Is dat so?” His other servo rose to grip the top edge of the table, fingers molding to fit the dent he’d left there previously as he loomed over you. “Well maybe we oughta do somethin’ about tha- SCRAP!”

His flirtations were cut short by the sharp SNAP of the stabilizing lock on your workbench failing under Rumble’s weight and flipping 180 degrees over. The world pitched and spun as you tumbled backwards, yelping as the table flipped and deposited you upside-down on the floor, legs sticking akimbo in the air. From between your dangling feet you could see Rumble peering over you with his sly expression wiped off his visor by one of concern.

“Slag! I didn't crush your little pedes when you flipped, did I? Cause I don't no nothin’ about fixin’ up injured squishies.”

Miraculously, you had managed to make it through that ass-over-elbow fall without hitting your head on anything, or Rumble accidentally pinning your legs in place between his bulk and the table frame. “I’m alright! Just didn't expect it, I’m okay.”

“Dat’s good. Here lemme jus’-” You felt a servo close around each of your ankles. With an effortless tug Rumble dragged you back up, tabletop tipping with you as it clunked back into its standard, flat position. Of course, this now left you with your ass and legs dangling off the edge of the workbench, Rumble standing between them with a servo resting on each knee. “Better?”

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to look overeager. “Better.”

“Ah, slaggit all…” But instead of putting his servos back on you (where you most certainly wanted them) Rumble began to scratch at the back of his neck, failing to meet your gaze. “Guess I ain't really cut out for all this… whaddaya call it? ‘Winin’ and dinin’?’ Can't even get my servos on ya without fraggin’ it up.”

“Hey, I’m definitely not complaining.” You attempted a jokey tone, but it didn't seem to do much to dampen Rumble’s current self-deprecation. You let the playful edge fall away as you dropped into something a bit softer. “I mean it though. You don't have to try to impress me. I mean it's appreciated! But, y’know, I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't already happy with the bot I was getting into it with.”

“Heh. Even if I end up crushin’ you a bit?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

He barked out another laugh, accompanied by a coil of thin steam hissing through his gap-dentae. “Well I guess I better make it worth da risk, shouldn't I?”

He snuck a servo under each of your knees, pushing them apart as he rocked his modesty panel against your clothed core. You stifled a gasp, the ridge of sturdy metal almost hot against you, even through layers of cotton and denim. The slow roll of his hips made your own stutter up off of the table, desperate for further friction.

“Cute. You like grindin’ on my panel? Should I make you bust jus’ like this?”

Despite the warm curl of arousal pooling in your stomach from the feeling, you knew this wouldn't be enough to get you off. Rumble seemed to know it too, letting out a low, pleased chuckle at your desperate expression.

“Jus’ yankin’ yer crankcase, sweetspark. I got somethin’ a lot more fun in mind for tonight anyway. Dat is, if you'll start gettin’ dese off.” He hooked a digit through your belt loop and gave them an experimental tug.

“Mmh, what, you don’t want to take them off yourself?” 

“Oh, I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya. Just figured you’d take care of dis part here…” His thick digits slid inward, ghosting over the button of your jeans. “So I don't gotta rip ‘em off ya instead.”

You weighed your options. On one hand, the image of Rumble tearing denim apart with his bare servos as if it was no more than wet tissue paper was far more appealing to you than you would have originally expected. On the other hand… well, they were new jeans.

“I got it.” You mumbled, quietly filing the image away in your brain for later use as you undid your button and zipper. “Careful with th- Oh!”

With a sharp yank, Rumble tugged your jeans and underwear off your legs and let them crumple onto the floor. Shoving himself into the space between your knees, you could only barely make out the top of his helm over the slope of your stomach as he knelt before you, spreading your folds with two digits and… staring.

You waited for a response, a quip, the slow drag of metal over your slick hole, but were instead greeted with silence. Something prickled in the pit of your stomach as you fought the urge to squirm. In the back of your mind you vaguely remembered that you hadn't really gotten to see what Rumble was packing, and only now were you grappling with the truth that you were trying to have sex with a truly alien being. Would your bodies even be compatible? Was he weirded out right now? You tried to pull your knees together, only to be stopped by a rough servo shoving them back open.

“...It's rude to stare.” You muttered.

“EY! I ain't starin’! I'm, uh, admirin’. Dat’s it.” There was a similar tightness to Rumble’s voice. You shuddered as a thumb stroked the crease of your thigh. “Soft… An’ it's supposed to be dat pink?”

“Y-Yeah… that's, mmh, normal.” You shuddered at a wave of steam curling over your sensitive heat as he spread you again, visor locked on your twitching entrance.

“Primus. And you're really gonna let me spike ya in this tiny little hole?” You could feel his thumb just brushing the rim and stifled a groan at the sudden, aching emptiness, the demand to be filled. “I don't wanna tear you in half or nothin’.”

“It’ll fit.” You whined, core tensing around nothing. “We’re, unh, we’re pretty flexible. C’mon, Rumble…” You forced your knees further apart, pushing your hips up into each of Rumble's far-too-light touches. His motor snarled in response, a massive hand gripping the inside of each of your thighs.

“Slag. You're really achin’ for it, aren’tcha?” His voice was lower than you'd ever heard it before, deep and resonant and primal. “But I ain't gonna give it to ya dat easy, doll. Gotta make sure you can take it first.” 

He raised his helm for just a moment, just enough for you to get a peek of his beaming visor and his wicked, gap-toothed grin between your legs. Then he descended, lathing his thick, hot glossa up the length of your cunt. You choked on a gasp, his servos the only thing keeping your hips from rabbiting up off the table. It was hot, his glossa thick and sturdy and drooling with oral lubricant, a thin layer of silicon over sturdier metal mesh dragging up through your folds.

“Easy, sweetspark…” You weren't the only one enjoying themselves. Rumble's low, rattling groan pulsed through your cunt. You swore you could just barely make out him groaning your name but it was lost, muffled as he pressed his faceplate further between your legs and his servos shivered where they gripped your thighs. He was messy and all too eager, arousal and oral lubricant spilling down his chin as his glossa stroked you; slow, deliberate drags up your folds until you were left dripping. At the apex he found your clit and took it between his dermas, a teasing hum rattling throughout his engine that had you gasping, thighs clenching around his thick helm. Your legs jerked as warmth bloomed outward from your core, hips writhing against the onslaught of pleasure. Dragging across his back your heel caught in a rounded divot, pulling a raggedy vent through Rumble’s dentae as his frame twitched.

“”Mmpfh!~ E-Ey, watch da spindle. It’s sensitive in dere…” He groaned, face still pressed into your cunt, servos only dragging your ass further off the table in his efforts to get somehow even closer to you. But instead you dug your heel in harder, pressing into the ridged divot and twisting your leg. The internal ring jerked with a sudden CLICK CLICK CLICK, each pop of noise making Rumble’s frame spasm like he'd just been electrocuted. “FRAG! Primus, that’s- ghh!~”

“Feel good?” You teased, breathless. His optics beamed back up at you, an oscillating, glistening red as you caught another peek of his gap-toothed grin from between your legs.

“So dat’s how you wanna play dis? Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll.” 

You barely had a chance to respond before the noise was punched out of your lungs in a sharp whine as Rumble shoved a thick, metal digit into your drooling cunt. Achingly hard, unrelenting, he flexed it against your rippling walls as his dermas nestled themselves snugly around your clit. The hum reverberating through his frame coursed through your body like a wave, hands scrabbling desperately at his helm as the twinge of pain at the sudden intrusion melted into thick, syrupy pleasure. 

“A-ah, fuck! Rumble, Rumble that's good, that's fucking good.~” Metal clanged as you lolled your head back against the table top, no longer able to keep it upright. Each drag of his digit, textured and ridged and unrelenting, sparked euphoria behind your eyelids. You felt every muscle in your body starting to prickle with pleasure, radiating outwards from your cunt and pooling in your head, your stomach, the tips of your toes…

You all but whined when he drew his digit away, dermas releasing your swollen clit with a slick pop. “C’mon! Rumble!”

“You want it dat bad, huh?” A shadow cast over your rumpled form as Rumble rose to his full height. From between your legs you could catch a glimpse of silver and blue panels fluttering and folding away, one of Rumble’s servos hiking the underside of your knee and the other stroking the gap between his thigh and pelvic armor as his spike rose to full attention. Christ, he was huge, the thick metal rod draped across your lower stomach as he rocked experimentally against you. Each thrust had the tip drooling a translucent, pinkish fluid you remembered scrubbing from the back of your jumpsuit, hot and vaguely smelling of well-oiled machinery and pooling across your bare stomach.

Rumble, for his part, seemed to be as entranced as you felt, visor vibrant and flickering as he stared down at the place his frame rubbed against your soft, supple body. A harsh ex-vent punctuated each roll of his hips, steam coiling around the corners of his slack, open intake as he pulled back, letting the tip of his spike slide wetly through your folds.

“Dat’s it, doll… You're gonna get exactly what you want. Gonna get you bouncin’ on dis spike, jus’ beggin’ for it…” His tone was low, entranced, just barely tinged with desperation. He dragged his tip through your folds again, and again, covering your cunt with his thick transfluid, making your breath hitch whenever he slid over your clit just right. You angled your hips up, guiding it right over your entrance, toes curling at the promise of pressure. 

But before you could utter his name again, or any other placation or demand, you felt the heavy press, the slow, aching slide as he entered you. It teetered just on the edge of pain, muscles twinging at your inner thighs as you forced your legs wider to accommodate his bulky armor. And his spike offered just as little give, covered with a thin layer of silicon like his glossa but still distinctly sturdy, inflexible metal. Your walls rippled helplessly around the intrusion, stretched to a delicious degree as he bullied his way inside you.

About halfway to being fully sheathed in your heat he paused, visor hazy and unfocused, intake still hanging open as he vented steam. A servo was resting on each of your hips, but while one stayed in place the other slid up, up, bunching your shirt around his digits and shoving it up above your chest. There his servo paused on your side, his massive thumb stroking back and forth over your nipple, quickly pebbling under the cool metal.

“Primus.” He breathed, distinctly softer than you ever remember hearing him before (and oh, if that didn't do just as much for your arousal as everything else). Finally, his hips began to move again, that intoxicating ache only beginning to border on near-unbearable when you could feel your ass and the backs of your thighs smushed against his pelvic armor. For another moment he paused, one servo cradling your hip and the other your chest.

Then he drew back, and thrust home.

The first thrust forced the air out of you in a desperate, sharp wheeze. This didn’t slow him, not in the slightest, digits sinking into the plush meat of your hip as he jackhammered into you. Each thrust had the entire table rattling, the sharp clang of metal against metal where his thighs hit the dented table’s edge. His quiet reverence had given way to an onslaught of erotic babble, visor locked on your face as it twisted and furrowed in pleasure.

“Takin’ it so fraggin well… You’re just made for takin’ my spike, aren’tcha?” He scooped his servo under your hip and lifted you further up, all but folding you in half as he loomed over you. His dermas brushed the curve of your jaw, just below your ear, and you could feel the heat of his ex-vent making your skin tingle. “You’ve jus’ been waitin’ for me to frag you stupid, plug up that achin’ valve til you can’t think of nothin’ else.”

“Mmmh…~ It’s so big.” You slurred, thighs slick with sweat and slipping on his plating as you struggled to lock your ankles in the small of his back. His frame shivered like an electric current ran through it, clutching you somehow even closer to his massive chassis.

“Nghh…~ Yeah? You love dis fat spike, don’tcha? Say it.”

“I love it!~”

“You want me to spill my load in this tight little valve, don’tcha?”

“Please!”

“Aghh, slag! Y-You’re gonna get it, sweetspark. You’re gonna take it all, j-just-mmfh!~” His vents were ragged and desperate, thrusts stuttering as he neared his release. You squealed as his thumb found your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in rough, tight circles. Euphoria was buzzing throughout your body, the ache of your lower back buried beneath the onslaught of pleasure and heat coiling in the pit of your stomach and blooming out through your limbs, legs shaking, hands trembling.

Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as your orgasm washed over you, hips jerking weakly against Rumble’s. There was no give to his spike at all, thick and steady and unyielding as your pussy squeezed and pulsed around it. You felt a flood of something molten spill into your core, filling you nearly to the point of aching as it spilled out around the tight ring of your hole around his base. Rumble’s frame stuttered, jittering, a harsh crackle of static and mechanical chatter pouring from his drooling intake where it was still buried in the crook of your neck. Finally, finally, his frame grew still. The only noise between the two of you were your shared, harsh breaths and the low churn of the occasional car driving past outside.

“Mmmmnnghh…” Rumble groaned, shifting his hips to pull his shrinking spike from your core as he rose unsteadily back to an upright position. You could feel transfluid dribbling from your hole as he tucked himself back away- thick, translucent globs spilling down the insides of your thighs and hitting the floor with a splatter. His engine gave a little, stuttering snarl despite himself as he dragged his digit tips through the shimmering line along one of your inner thighs. “I oughta take a picture of dis…”

“Don’t you dare.” You kicked weakly at his servo, legs now tingling with static as blood rushed back to them. He barked out a sharp laugh, effortlessly batting your foot aside. His servo rested atop your lower stomach and gave a teasing press, and you shivered as more globs of thick transfluid drooled from your cunt. “Jerk.”

“Eyy, you love it!”

“Unfortunately.” There was no real bite to your tone, you could tell by the way Rumble grinned. “Think you can give me a hand getting over to the bathroom before my knees give out?”

“Depends. Does dat count as you owin’ me a favor?”

[hazbinshusk]

husk x gn!reader. two anons asked for husk teaching you how to make a drink behind the bar. one request was for sweet, one for a little spicy, so here's something that hopefully somewhere in between. 1.3k

featuring: basically non-stop flirting, wandering hands, and husk being hot as shit making drinks in close quarters.

“I’m just saying, honey, it wouldn’t kill you to add a little flair every now and then,” you say idly, tip-toeing your fingers across the bar top in front of you.

The look Husk gives you is completely devoid of emotion, and he keeps that deadpan expression as he tosses the shaker he’s holding up over his shoulder. He catches it with his other hand behind his back, returning to shaking it without pause. You purse your lips to try and stop your smile, and he smirks, knocking the shaker open and straining the contents into a glass. He slides it across the bar so it comes to a stop in front of you.

“Show off.”

He snickers, drinking the dregs of the cocktail right out of the shaker. He wrinkles his nose at the sweetness of the first sip, but tips the rest of it down his throat anyway. “You gonna try it or you gonna leave me on tenterhooks all night?”

“When the bartender doesn’t even like it?” you tease, lifting the glass obediently. “Shudder the thought.”

“Drink, smartass, before I take back the offer to teach you anything.” Husk tells you, and you grin, tipping back a mouthful pointedly. The sweetness of the honey liqueur teases over your tongue, undercutting the bite of the vodka. “Well?”

You lean across the bar, pressing a kiss to the side of his muzzle by way of answer. “What’s it called?”

Husk grins, reaching up to cup the back of your head with his paw and pulling you into a proper kiss. He lets it linger, tasting that same sweetness on your lips. “’s the Bees Knees.”

“It sure is,” you joke, and he rolls his eyes as he releases you.

“You’re a fuckin’ dork, ya know that?”

“Sure do,” you reply cheerfully, easing yourself up off your stool. You clap your hands together, bouncing on your heels. “Now, are you gonna teach me how to mix you a drink, or what?”

Husk smiles in exasperation, waving a clawed hand to beckon you behind the bar. “I’m already regrettin’ this.”

“Oh, hush,” you shoot back as you round the bar and come to stand next to him. “I’m gonna be great at this. Now what am I making?”

“The Last Word.”

“Sounds ominous.”

Husk smirks, rinsing out the cocktail shaker and setting it down in front of you. “Cocktail outta the prohibition era. If I’m gonna waste my time with all that bells and whistles shit, might as well pick a drink that’s strong as fuck.”

“Charming,” you tease, giggling when he pinches your side in retaliation. “Okay, okay… what do I add first?”

Husk’s shoulder brushes against yours as he moves to stand beside you. “You want about an ounce of everythin’ in there – it’s a real straight forward recipe. But before you do anythin’, if you’re makin’ this right, you wanna chill the glass.”

You raise a brow, amused. “You never chill the glass.”

“Yeah, well, I never make it right.” Husk retorts, smiling when you laugh. He turns his head, leaning into you and ghosts his lips against your temple.  “Ice in the glass, pet.”

“Yes, sir.” you’re only half-mocking in your reply, and you scoop out a shakerful of ice, tipping half of it into the glass he’s set out for you.

“Good.” he mutters, and you feel his arm brush against the small of your back, his hand curling around your opposite hip. You smirk to yourself, but otherwise, you don’t acknowledge his touch. “Now gin.”

You turn to reach for a bottle, and Husk tugs on your waist in reprimand. “Uh-uh. Not the cheap shit.”

You give him a pointed look. “I’ve seen you drink that paint thinner like water.”

“’s a fair point, doll,” he agrees, amused. “But you’re puttin’ the effort into makin’ me a drink – I should probably have the chance to enjoy it.”

A frown pulls at the edge of your lips at that, but now isn’t the time to address his addiction. Instead, you select one of the fancier labels from the shelf and measure out a neat ounce. You pour it into the shaker just as Husk sets a slim green bottle down beside it. You tug the stopper out of it, bringing it up to your nose and sniffing. “Ooh, and this is?”

“Maraschino liqueur,” Husk tells you. He’s moved to stand behind you, watching over your shoulder as you work. “Same amount, baby.”

“Aye aye, cap’n.”

“Shut it,” he growls in your ear, and you can’t help the shudder that rolls down your spine. “Cheeky bitch.”

“You love it,” you retort, doing as instructed even as you say it. The bartender rewards you with a kiss to the side of your throat, his claws claiming your hips. The cold, wet brush of his nose is an addictive contrast to the warmth of his lips, and you hold back a gasp when the rough barbs of his tongue dart out to tease briefly over the same spot below your ear. Still, Husk notices your reaction, and he chuckles, breath tickling against your skin. “Stop… stop distracting me.”

“I ain’t distractin’ you,” he murmurs, sliding a bottle of lime juice across the bar to you. You didn’t even notice him grab it. “Now, usually you’d need fresh lime juice, but I ain’t picky and cuttin’ ‘em up’s a bitch. ‘Specially when the only one who ever asks for ‘em is Angel.”

“Noted.”

“But if he asks, tell him they’re on back order,” Husk says in your ear, and you breathe a laugh, measuring out an ounce of the juice. He hands you a bottle labelled ‘Green Chartreuse’ and you do the same. It smells kind of peppery, but you catch the hint of mint as well. He steps back, giving you a little more space. “Good girl. Now we shake.”

You follow the same motions you’d seen him do a thousand times – pop the top on and smack it down firmly into place with the heel of your hand. You lift it and start to shake, stopping when Husk chuckles. “What?”

Husk takes hold of your elbows, lowering them back to your sides. He steps in close to you again, pressing his chest up against your back. “Jus’… take it easy. You’re mixin’ a drink, not takin’ flight.”

Warmth spreads through you at his touch, and you shiver as he trails his claws down your forearms to your wrists. You can feel his breath fanning softly against the side of your throat, and his nose bumps against your pulse point. You turn your head slightly, chasing his lips with your own, and you catch him smile as he nods down at the shaker in your hands. “C’mon, doll, concentrate.”

“Don’t wanna.” you say petulantly, but your voice comes breathy and soft.

“We’re almost done,” he tells you, volume matching yours. From him it’s a low tenor, a rumble that you swear you feel down to your bones. “Promise.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Focus, pet.”

“Oh, I am, trust me.”

Husk chuckles into your throat, brushing a teasing, biting kiss over your skin. “On the drink, pet.”

You sigh, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. “Fine.”

Husk smiles, touching his lips to your temple before you straighten, letting him guide you into shaking the cocktail like a professional. You dump the ice from the glass and set it back on the bar top, and Husk hands you the strainer with a smile so you can pour the drink. You pick it up as soon as it’s poured, turning around to face him.

There’s only a few inches between the two of you as you lean back against the bar, holding up the glass in offer.

“And voila.”

Husk’s claws curl around your hand as he takes the glass from you, lifting it slowly from your grip. He holds your gaze as he takes a sip, and you wait impatiently for a moment before saying, “Well? How does it taste?”

“’s good,” he tells you, swallowing back another mouthful. “You did good, doll. Want a taste?”

“Sure, I—”

“Good.” Husk grins, grabbing hold of your bicep and pulling you into a kiss.

[luvsickbugs]

TRENCH COAT

Character: Remy 'Gambit' Lebeau x male reader

Plot: What happens in vegas stays in vegas.

Warnings: Smut, Top Remy, Bottom male reader, Mentions of riding, Mentions of rogue, hair pulling, vibrating hands (idk honestly, i think i saw it in a tweet once.) Dick size gets mentioned and there is alot of teasing, kinda actually has a plot. (I think that's it, I wrote his accent like mine is and how people around me sound, i tried to even add extra twang hopefully its good!!)

The bathroom door pushes open and Remy's snores come to a halt as the light shined across his face, He groans and rub his face. He leans up on his elbows and squints his eyes, His face quickly heats up when his eyes focus on the man in the doorway.

His eyes dart up and down at the clothes you were wearing-- You were only wearing two pieces of clothes but the sight of them was making everything on him go warm.

You were wearing those tight white boxers that Rogue had got you as a gag gift for valentines and a trenchcoat- his trenchcoat. It looked perfect on you, It fit you wonderfully, Not too big or too small.

His mouth dried up as his lips stretched into a grin, His eyes faltered for a second on the marks on your collarbones, "Somethin' 'bout you wearing my coat gives me a mighty big feelin' of possessiveness, cher." His eyes finally go back up to your face.

You shook your head and rubbed your eyes, You had just grabbed the first thing you saw to cover yourself to go piss.

When you got closer to the bed, Remy hooked his fingers into the pockets on the side of the coat and tugged you forward till your knees hit the mattress. "Lemme cuddle for a bit." He wanted you against him, He already felt cold even though he had two thick blankets covering him. He wanted your legs between his and your hands in his hair, He wanted you all over him.

When the blankets were lifted, You crawled under the covers. Your legs naturally found Remy's legs and you threw one of your legs around his waist, He was warm. You felt his hand slip under the trenchcoat and laid flatly against your side, His fingers lightly tracing up and down. It felt nice, He felt nice against you.

Remy buried his face into your hair, He kissed your head before leaning back and cupping your jaw to stare at you, "Good mornin'," He grinned, "I feel like I got hit by that motorcycle of yers, Did ya really ride me that hard last night?" He leans down and kisses your forehead.

You laughed and pushed his face away, "Don't be so vulgar."

He leaned into your hand and kissed your palm, "Ain't vulgar if it's true," He kept eye contact with you, He knew eye contact made you squirm. "Besides, Gambit's only askin' a question."

He smirked when he watched you turn your head away from him, His hand that was under the trench coat dragged his fingers down till they grazed the waistband of your boxers. His smirk grew when he felt your hips move up against his fingers. "You usually wear more clothes than just gambits coats an' those tightey whiteys you call boxers."

"They aren't that tight." You mumbled, You felt the flush crawl up your neck and your heart was beating fast and the teasing fingertips dipping in and out of your waistband didn't help.

"They are tight," He hooked the waistband with his index finger, "Don't see why you feel the need to wear 'em so small. You tryin' to show off?"

Remy slipped his index out of the waistband and instead traced your obvious bulge, He felt you twitch under his fingertips, "They're almost indecent." He swallowed, He just wanted to take them off you and make you feel so good. You looked so pretty laying beside him, He could feel your fingers tracing his collarbones and it just made a shiver go down his spine and his own cock pushed against his boxers. "Might as well not even be there."

You wrapped your hand around his wrist-- God, He wants that hand to be wrapped around something else. Fucking your hand would be enough as long as you look up at him with those pretty eyes and talk to him and he'd be set. He just needed you. It has never mattered what way, He'd have you any way you'd let him.

A groan left you and your hand tightened around his wrist, You wanted to jut your hips against his hand for any friction, But you knew as soon you did that he'd pull his hand away. He was a bastard. "It's just the brand Rogue got."

Remy scoffs, He stares down at you and you squeeze his wrist tighter, He laughs softly, "They basically are see-through," He takes his free hand and drags it down your chest, "Can see more comin' out of these than out of those damn shorts on yer suit. Don't take that as complainin' 'cause I ain't."

"You aren't supposed to look at me doing missions."

"And you're not supposed to be fightin' in something so damn small," He murmured, "Can see yer everything, There ain't much left to the imagination."

He moved his free hand down your chest and cupped you, "You expectin' me to ignore a view like that when I know I'm the only one who's allowed to see it?"

Your breath hitched and your grip loosened on his wrist, "and rogue."

He squeezed you, Just to hear the small gasps, "Don't know how the hell she resists you sometimes." He grumbled, He watched as a small wet spot formed on the front of your boxers. He rubbed your tip through the fabric and your hips jutted up against him. He smirked and stopped moving his thumb.

Your hips jutted upwards again, You groaned when he pulled his hand fully away, "She has this nice thing called restraint and control."

Remy chuckles, He moved so he was positioned in between your legs and leaned over you to kiss you on your collarbone and up your neck. "I don't have an ounce of restraint or control, 'specially when it comes to you two, cher."

You leaned your head back and hummed, Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his lips against your skin, "You need to work on that."

He smiled against your skin, His hands grabbed at your sides, "It'd be a boring life if Gambit was on his best behaviour all the time."

A laugh escaped you when his stubble brushed against your jaw, "You drool when we stand close together and if we're in our suits, You melt."

The sound of your laugh made him grin, He closed his eyes and he just wanted to soak all of you in, He was smitten. "I'm only human, darlin', ain't got the same self-discipline as you." He kissed your jaw, He wanted to make you laugh again. "I oughta just start wearin' a bib."

"Besides," He murmured against your skin, His hand drifting back downwards, "I'm still holdin' up pretty well, All things considered."

Remy kissed every spot on your neck that he had missed last night, He grazed his teeth against your collarbone. He watched as you leaned your head back to give him more room.

"Are you?" Your voice was quiet and your eyes were closed, You were just focusing on him.

"You've currently got my hand in ya underwear," He squeezed against you and a gasp left you, The feeling shooting up your spine and your cock pushed more against his fingers. "My hard on pressin' against ya ass as we speak ... so, yes, I'd say I'm doing pretty well."

You grab onto his shoulders, Your fingers dig into the flesh and you spread your legs to wrap around his waist, You could feel him through his own underwear and it just made you want to whine. But you didn't want to fuel his ego, You physical had to swallow it down.

He grabbed onto your thigh, His fingers couldn't fully wrap around the flesh but just the sight of his slender fingers made you feel empty. "Vous allez me tuer, cher."

You felt yourself twitch, Fuck, You needed him and he obviously needed you.

You grab onto his hair and pull him to your face, "Get the lube," You whispered. "It's in my bedside table."

The response he gave you was a shaky breath as he leaned forward, which just made him push his dick more up against you. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you, It was sloppy. You could hear him fumbling in the drawer with his hand.

You tighten your hand in his hair, It was soft in between your fingers. You tugged the strands to make his head turn and give you more control in the messy kiss.

"Merde-" Remy groaned, He pulled back from the kiss and he was gasping for air. He glanced over to the bedside drawer and he wrapped his hand around the bottle. A shiver ran down his body and straight to his cock when he felt your lips against his jaw. He fumbled with the cap, But he just couldn't focus on opening the damn bottle. "Ya gonna have to let me sit up."

You kissed along his jaw line and whispered, "Just focus." You guided his head to turn the other way, You wanted to kiss every inch of him. You felt him shiver against you and gasp as you kept kissing his neck. Your fingers wrap around his jaw to keep his face still.

"Hard to do that when you keep doin' that." He grumbled, He's got the cap inbetween his teeth now and he's trying to pull it off.

"Condoms." You just remembered that those were needed, You blinked and leaned back and your hand trailed down from his jaw to his collar bone. You felt his throat move as he swallowed. "The large should be in the drawer."

Remy looked towards the drawer, The lube tube hanging from his mouth like a dog toy. You could see lube dripping down his chin from where his teeth pierced the plastic. He grabbed the condoms, Your hand still in his hair and you pulled him back towards you with it.

"Y'know," Remy pulled the lube from his mouth with one hand and the other hand had the whole box of condoms. "Gambit thinks ya got a kink for usin' ol' remy's hair as a damn leash."

"Works doesn't it?"

Remy lets the condoms box fall beside them, A few of them spilled out onto the sheets, "Can't argue with that," He gave your thigh a hard squeeze, "Just might have to return the favor, cher."

You raised a brow and brought your thumb to his chin and wipe off the lube that had dripped onto the skin, "You're just a mess," You mumble, "Is this shit even edible?"

His shoulders lifted then fell and his head dipped a inch to lick the lube off the tip and he tilted his head in mock thought, "It tastes like cherry," He nibbled on your thumb with a grin and he kept his red eyes on your own. "So it must be, no?"

You can't help the laugh that climbs out of your throat, Your lips stretched into a grin, "Give it here," You moved your hand away from his teeth, "Best make sure you won't fall over and die on me."

"I aint gonna die from some cheap lube," He huffed, But he tossed it onto your chest.

You flip the box, "Lucks on your side," You looked back at him, "Its a water based formula."

"Now," Remy smirked, "Let's get back to business, shall we, mon cher?" He placed his hands on each side of your head and leaned down to kiss you, He wanted to part your lips with his tongue, He wanted to taste you so fucking badly but he pulled back a few inches to whisper, "Top or bottom?"

You almost wanted to laugh, but you pursed your lips and answered, "You grabbed your condoms, So ill just bottom."

He immediately dipped his head and kissed your neck, He felt your adams apple move as you swallowed and he felt each breath you took, god, He could die doing this. "Just lemme-" He grabbed the lube and pulled his glove off with his teeth, He left his glove on once while jacking you off and it took forever to get the stains out. "just lemme finish preparin' and i'll give ya exactly what ya need."

He grabbed the underside of you knees and pulled them apart, "Merde," He swallowed as he stared at you with hunger in his pretty eyes, He added a ton of lube on two of his fingers and he dipped his hand in between your thighs. "So pretty." He whispered as he slipped a finger in, He watched as you turned your head away and covered your mouth with the palm of your hand.

Remy tsked, "Cher, We're going to have a word about all that noise that ain't being made." He leaned forward and snatched your hand away before curling his finger inside of you, His fingertip searching for that bundle of nerves.

"Fuck--"

"There it is!" He laughed, He nipped at the inside of your thigh, "Ya get too quiet sometimes."

"You talk too much," You grumble and your hips dug down and took more of his slender finger inside, "and don't do alot."

"You- We both know," He slid another finger in, "that's a damn lie."

He kissed on your thigh, "Don't go forgetting who makes sure ya don't walk normal for days after our little meetups, cher."

"Bit cocky," You gasped as you closed your eyes and you began to fuck yourself on the two fingers.

Remy's fingers move and he pushes against that bundle and then stops just to push everywhere around that spot, "When i'm right, I'm right." He grazed your thigh with his teeth, "You'll be the one walking funny, not gambit."

Your back lifted off the sheets as he taunted you with not pushing that bundle of nerves again, Your hips moved downwards trying to make him brush against it, Your dick was aching and you knew it was weeping precum at this point, You felt it dripping down the side.

Remy pulled out and wiped his fingers on the sheets as he grabbed one of the condoms with his other hand, "Taking that as a compliment," He grinned and he ran a hand through his hair and out of his face, "Though," He pulled the wrapper off, "your about to be able to tell how hot you are and how damn good remy is in--" He slipped the condom on and smirked as he looked down at you, "in thirty seconds or so."

He leaned forward and grabbed a pillow, "Iift up f'me," He shoved the pillow under your hips when you lifted them.

You wrapped your leg around his hip and the other found its place on his shoulder, His hands found their place on your knees again, He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, "Careful," He looked back down, "Might just take this as you wanting it rough, mon cher."

He slowly pushed his hips forward and he felt you swallowing him whole and with a groan and after one pause he was fully in, His head dipped down and he murmured something in french that your ears couldn't catch.

Your hands climbed their way up his neck and back into his hair as your back lifted up and your mouth opened with a groan.

"Ya hellbent on destroying those perfectly styled tresses of mine, aint ya, cher?" He slipped out a few inches before pushing back in, His eyes rolled back in his head at the warm feeling of you around him.

Your hands pull his face down towards your own as your teeth dug into your bottom lip, He shook his head as he looked down at you, "No, no," He poked your cheek with his thumb, "youre gonna keep makin' those damn sweet sounds--"

Your lips met his and he gasped when your teeth sunk into his bottom lip, His hips jutted forward at the sting. You pulled back and he blinked, "oh." He leaned back down to get your lips against his again.

"faster," You murmur as your hand pushed at the back of his head to push him closer to you, You felt him twitch inside of you as he moved a hand down to your thigh, That gave you a wonderful idea. The leg around remy's hip pushed against the small of the red haired's back to push him deeper inside of you.

"Merde--" Remy whines, His lips brush against your chin as his head ducked down to stare at the place you two connect at. He moved his hips in a familiar pace, His hand tightened around your thigh as he tried to ground himself. You were just so warm and good and that fucking mouth of yours, jesus, you were going to kill him. "If ya aint good."

You kissed his forehead and his head shot up which gave you the perfect angle to kiss his jaw, which you gladly did. You placed sloppy kisses all over the flesh.

"Darlin'" His hips move quicker and his voice gets more whiny.

"hm?" Your kisses stop as you get closer to his ear. His dick drug pass that spot and your eyes fluttered as you moaned, Your fingers nails dug into scalp as you started to move your hips to met his and his head dipped down to bury itself against your neck, He kissed your skin, which made your turn your head to give him more room.

Your leg around his waist pushed against his back again which this time made him lurch forward and his stomach brushed against your abandoned cock, That made the feeling in your stomach get worse and your cock weeped even more. You opened your mouth to ask remy to touch you but all that came out was more moans.

"I aint gonna last another goddamn minute if you keep this up," His thrust grows faster and then it stops immediately. A whine escapes your throat as remy gasps for breath above you, "I gotta change the damn position, cher."

He kissed your neck and leaned back up, He looked down at you, He moved his thumb to hook inside of your mouth, "Don't worry," He murmured as he moved his thumb around your mouth covering it in spit, "You won't be empty for too long."

Your brows furrowed for a second but before you could even process a question he pulled out and rolled over so he was laying down beside you, His thumb slipped out of your mouth, now both your holes were empty, how annoying.

Remy pats his thigh, "Come on, darlin'," He beckoned you with a curl of his index finger, "Ride me."

"Not even a please?" You whispered. Not that he needed to beg, you would gladly ride him all night long if he so wished.

"Ya know damn well the please is heavily implied." He grumbled, He moved his hands to his side as you climbed onto him. His hands went back to your hips.

"You gonna be good f'me, mon cher?" He leaned back onto the pillows and up at you.

"I feel like that question might be more for you then me," You grabbed his cock in your hand and slipped it back in, It was such a wonderful feeling and your head fell back as you sighed and your eyes closed as you soaked up the feeling of remy becoming one with you.

"Ha, You're real funny," His nails dug into your skin, "How's the view? You enjoying it?"

You tilted your head as you stared down at him, He did look beautiful, his red hair was spewed across the pillowcase and his cheeks were a dusted pink, You could see the marks you left on his chest and neck the night before. You moved your hand to lay flat against his chest and you felt each breath he took as his chest lifted and fell, god, he was so pretty. You could just bite him.

You began moving up and down, His body arched and his neck was bared to you, Something overcame you and your fingers wrapped around his throat as you went faster.

"You really are going to kill me, cher," He whined, His hips began moving up to met you in the middle. It had you groaning and squeezing tighter around his neck.

The sound of flesh hitting each other bounced off the walls and the room was filled with the sounds of both of you groaning and moaning each other's praises.

"A damn kiss would be good f'me right now," Remy moaned, His hips went faster to met your slower movements that made your head swim. "Come on, be a good boy and kiss ya man."

You nodded, he felt so deep inside you, so fucking good. You leaned down to give him a quick peck.

His hips started to go faster, Which made you moan and your back arched, your fingers dug into his shoulders. Your eyelids closed and your mouth opened to let out all the noises that climbed up your throat.

"Mmmmf-" Remy groaned, He pulls you down faster on his cock, you felt so good and warm and there was that squeeze you did ever few seconds that just made him--

You felt the condom swell inside of you and your brows furrowed and you gasped for air, "Did you just...?" you questioned him as his hips slowed down.

His head fell back against the pillows with a groan, "Yeah," He closed his eyes as he took deep breaths and you watched his chest go up and down quite quickly, "I have a damn good excuse, cher."

"Yeah?" Your own cock was still abandoned and weeping as it brushed against the abs in front of you and each brush made your hips lift, You wanted to paint remy's skin in you.

"Shaddup," He swatted your side, "I swear im not this quick, usually."

You nodded and leaned down to place your hands by his head as you started to lift your hips again to chase your own release.

"Oh--" He whined. He stares up at you, his eyes scan every inch of you and he couldn't help but admire you. The small shine that decorated your skin from the lamp on the bedside, Every thing about your body was perfect to him and he wanted to kiss all of it.

"Keep going?"

"Hell yeah," He nodded, "I aint nowhere done with ya, cher." He moves his hand down to grab your weeping cock, His thumb rubbed against the tip. You immediately reacted and thrusted up into his hand you moaned, The feeling of finally being touched was amazing. Your head was feeling light and that knot in your stomach tightened as you fucked his hand.

"Ya just love gambit's hand on ya," His hand squeezed the base of your cock and he slowed down his hips to match the pace of his hand.

You were being drowned in pleasure, You couldn't decide if you wanted to fuck yourself on his dick or fuck his hand, Both felt so good, everything felt so fucking good. You whined and thrusted in his hand, your tip brushed against his stomach and fucking hell--

Your back arched as you grabbed onto his shoulders, He was so deep inside of you and his hand was warm and squeezed you every few seconds, sweet jesus, this man was amazing.

"Not so gentle tonight," He smirked up at you, "are we, mon cher?" His breath hitched at the nails digging into his skin, it was definitely going to leave crescent shapes.

You blinked as his words met your ears and you leaned down to kiss on his collarbones for a silent apology.

"You're not sorry," He laughed, His hand tightened and slowly dragged themselves from the base to the tip.

You kissed the crescent shapes and looked up at him with eyes that you knew made him melt inside and his knees into noodles. Your mind swam at the feeling of his hand, You tried to focus but all you wanted to do was fuck his hand.

"Ya gonna apologize to every mark you'd made," He questioned, His free hand drug its nails against your scalp and through the strands. He watched as you nodded.

"Damn good manners," He looked down and watched you fuck his hand and the way your mouth opened, He wouldn't be surprised if you started drooling. The idea of you doing something that pathetic made him flush, He would have to see if that would be something you'd find hot. "Gambit likes those manners."

You head tilted to the side and laid against his chest, You moaned as your hips kept fucking his hand. Your head was swimming and you only had one thought, like a dog in heat. All you could do was fuck and whimper.

"Ya close, darlin'?" He loosened his hand on your cock, "I know that whimper ya get every time ya get close."

Your hips faltered but he picked up your slack, Your eyes rolled back into your head. "Shit." You whined.

"Ah-ah," He chided, "language."

Your head struggled to process the words because if you did process them you wouldve made a comment about how he uses that language as well, But you couldn't process shit as his hips started to move again with the same fast pace as his hand. Your legs were starting to burn as you moved up and down, you were slowing down now.

You whined when you felt his hands start to vibrate, It was a weird sensation and something that you didn't even know he could do. You looked down to see his hands growing that familiar pink hue that comes from his powers, "When did you learn you could do that?" The vibrations were rushing up your spine and it made you want to release even more, You were getting closer to the edge now and his thumb-- vibrating thumb at that was pushing against your tip and smearing your precum all over your cock, "Ah- fuck- remy-"

"Ya say that like i wasn't doing all sorts of fun with my powers since the beginning." Remy laughs, He drags his thumb down from the tip and down the underside of your cock all the way to your balls, which he cupped in his palm. He tilts his head and watches every little emotion that crosses your face, His eyes dart all over your body watching every reaction that your body makes, like you were his own personal experiment.

Your head fell back and your hips dug down, All your thoughts were mush, You couldn't even think properly right now, All you think about was his cock and his hands and those beautiful eyes of his that seemed to be glued to you.

"Ya like that, don't ya?" His hand moved to wrap itself back around your length and it moved down to the base and sat there, "Ya getting close, cher?"

You nodded, The knot in your stomach was getting tighter and you wanted to unloosen it, You leaned down and buried your face in his shoulders and your mouth opened to bury your teeth in his flesh.

"Gonna make a mess on gambit's chest?" He groaned at the feeling and his hips were starting to falter again.

Your let go of his flesh and turned your head to be buried in his neck instead, "sweet jesus." you whined.

"That a prayer, cher?" He moved his other hand to grasp your balls, "Gonna keep moaning f'me like a pretty little thing?" His hand started to vibrate around your balls as your eyes rolled back into your head, "Make me feel like the lucky one here, cher."

Your teeth sunk back into him as you finally came, The feeling made your head feel fuzzy and your body relaxed into his, God, that felt good.

"ah-ah," He chided, "Watch those damn fangs." His hand grabbed onto your locks and pulled you back, He glanced down at his shoulder and he was sure he could count all your teeth in the mark, "Damn, cher, gonna have a mark for a week."

"Sorry," You swallowed, Your eyes blinked slowly as you stared at him. You felt so good, right now.

"Better be," He smiled at you, He released your hair and patted your cheek, "damn sharp teeth ya got there."

You lifted your hips a little to slip him out and flopped onto the pillows beside him.

"Tired, darlin'?" He leaned up and grabbed a handful of tissues off the bedside, he leaned back on his thighs and began wiping your stomach clean before doing himself.

"What are we gonna tell charles and erik?" The fact that you two weren't supposed to be together this night came rushing back to your mind ruining every good feeling you just had.

"Nothin'?" Remy laughed awkwardly, "We're grown ass adults-" He pulled the condom off his cock and cleaned himself off fully, "They don't need to know."

"I know that," You grumble, You watched every move he made.

"Ya think they're suspicious we're bangin'?" He teased, He tossed the used condom and tissue into the bin beside the bed. He laid down on the pillow beside you.

"Erik will probably think you're corrupting me," You teased.

"Erik has called me worse, cher," He grabbed his cigarette off the bedside and fumbled with the lighter, He took a deep breath once he finally got it lit.

You stared at his lips that were wrapped around the end of the cig, "What time is the flight tomorrow?"

"bout noon," He held the cigarette out for you to take a drag. You shook your head, you didn't want to smoke right now. He brought it back to his lips, "Ya gonna stay up all night?"

"no."

His free hand ran its way through your hair, "Gambit isn't gonna let ya sit here and worry all night about the professor and that metalhead."

You laughed, "Metal head."

"They'll say their piece, We'll tell em a lie, then we'll go back to bangin'" He blew some smoke up towards your face, Which in response you lightly shoved his face away. "Rude."

"Goodnight, remy," You patted his chest before rolling over onto your side and closing your eyes, You tried to ignore as your boss -- erik -- face flicked into your head.

"Night, cher."

Now it was just a waiting game, It was time to see who would leave first. It always happened the same way: one of you would wake up first and leave without waking the other. The one who left would always make sure to leave a stack of cash on the bedside to cover all expenses.

It was just a question on who would it be this time?

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Paper Pirates (Conclusion)

MDNI

Shanks x f!reader

Summary: An unconventional member of an unconventional crew, you finally solve your captain's equation.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, piv, swearing, smoking, allusions to power imbalance

A/N: Merry Christmas and happy holidays! - Ya filthy animals. Thanks for all the support! I have another Shanks piece brewing (a genuine one-shot, even!) that will hopefully see the light of day in the coming week. Til then: stay tuned, drink water, kiss someone you like, and survive the holidays!

Shanks is, as ever, a bonfire on a winter night. Blazing bright and beautiful. A human beacon with a smile so bright it made his hair dull by comparison. He should be ridiculous, maybe even an object of pity with his scarred face and missing arm, but he’s confidence given legs – legs in ridiculous printed trousers, even.

He holds court in the bar closest to the docks. He’d swaggered ahead with all your worldly possessions under his arm, chatting up passing locals. You’d followed, drowning in his wake. The storm inside you didn’t touch him.

You followed him here, met up with the crew after picking open you scabs so he could see how deep the infection ran, and now you’re once again ducking under too many waving hands and wondering how the hell these killers and thieves smile so readily. As he guzzles sake and laughs with Lucky Roux, he feels farther away than ever. Memories are easier to hold close. Now you can only calculate the gulf between your understanding and his plans.

The sea between your feelings and his easy charm.

This must be what a cuckoo chick feels when it realizes it has the wrong feathers.

Cheering voices shake the tavern walls, and you sit among the merry-makers, pretending to enjoy yourself. But you know your voice would come out wrong if you joined in. There’s a reason you never fit the atmosphere aboard the Red Force. Even when they were trying to be kind, your comrades must’ve sensed something strange had hatched in their midst. An intruder in the crow’s nest, so to speak.

You sit, stewing in your own self-pity, taking the barest sips from your glass. You can’t afford to be drunk. Not tonight. Not after your conversation with Shanks.

Maybe things have never been easy between you and the Red Hair Pirates, but everything spiraled after you revealed yourself on a tide of rum and fatigue. Drinking is a solitary activity now. No way in hell will you make things worse. You still hope, a little desperately, for an amicable separation.

You spill your drink twice, fetching refills to keep up appearances.

That game ends when Beck joins you. He lands across the table, filling the corner where you settled with the excuse of eating away from flying elbows and table dancing. The stew smelled so appetizing every other time you passed the place, but you’re struggling to do it justice. Doesn’t help that it gets colder with every bite.

Still makes a marvelous diversion from Beckman, though.

Until he opens his big, stupid mouth.

“Hongo seen the wound yet?”

Which wound? The time you shot yourself with your own big, stupid mouth in his company or the bullet you caught during your year or isolation?

“No wound.” You shovel a spoonful in your mouth, buying a moment of peace. “Just a scar. And he’s threatened me with a thorough exam tomorrow.”

“Shame. Earned your first major scar of on your own.”

He makes it sound like your fault somehow, and that grates. Your tolerance is growing thin, and you haven’t spent more than ten minutes in each other’s company tonight.

It isn’t your fault they left you behind. As always.

It wasn’t your fault the Marines fucked up a good thing. As always.

It sure as hell wasn’t your fault that you got shot in one of the most chaotic battles you’d ever seen.

The world turned and you clung on where you could.

You wonder if Beckman even remembers what it’s like to have no one at his back, no ship to rely on.

He taps out a fresh cigarette. “Would’ve been an opportunity to celebrate.”

You laugh as he lights up, almost genuinely. “Like you’ve ever needed one.”

If the crew celebrated every first scar acquired on the sea, they’d never stop drinking. But maybe they do. It would explain some things.

“Hn. It will be good to have you back on the ship. Never enough good crew.”

“Oh please, we both know I’m average at best.”

“Do we?” Beckman didn’t take his eyes off his match. “Captain talk to you about his plan yet?”

Your spoon circles the bowl’s rim. The vibration shakes into your fingers as metal drags over rough crockery, but the men are too loud for you to hear the chime.

“We talked about a plan. Wasn’t really his.”

One more bite. Just to soak up the drip of booze you’ve choked down. Nothing’s ever as good as you hope these days, and you’re starting to wonder if it’s your own fault.

You push the meal away, hoping no one asks why there’s so much left. The folks behind the counter work hard, and you’d hate to insult a family recipe.

Beckman shakes out his match, and his cool eyes fix on you. For all the bodies in the room, his attention carves out a private space. You might as well be back on deck, drinking in the dark after they party’s over.

You lean back. Cross your arms.

“I do sometimes look up from the books, you know.”

If the Captain agrees to your plan, it will impact Benn’s role most. And you’re comfortable with him. He doesn’t ask for much. So long as you meet his expectations, he doesn’t demand a sunny smile and a performance. You’re grumpy bastards both, the eyes in the back, assessing and measuring. You don’t know what answers he’s looking for at your table in the corner, but you can guess a few questions.

“Shanks only brings aboard people who’ve already… become what they’re gonna be, I guess.” Just saying his name pushes your gaze to find him across the room.

It’s no wonder you fell in love. Doesn’t make you any less of a fool. “It’s why he doesn’t take on apprentices, I think. He knows he’d protect them. They’d get hurt. They’d have to, at some point, or they’d never push themselves. So, he always turns the young ones down.”

Benn doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t twitch. He blinks, slowly, like a cat, and a ribbon of smoke fades into the rafters. You look him in the eye.

“That’s how I know. I am what I am. Good at numbers. Entirely average in every other respect.”

“Tsk.” He looks away. Uses his boot to grind out an old cigarette that’s been cold on the floor since before you arrived. “You see the numbers, but you’ve put ‘em in the wrong places. A transcription error. Get out of your own way.”

Your arms cinch tighter around your chest, and the eye contact slips up and away. The rafters offer an escape. You study graffiti carved by a thousand daggers over endless decades by happy drunkards. Maybe they’re a map to sanity. A star chart of curses, confessions, and promises.

Are you even having the same conversation? It feels like everyone is pushing you to the brink of madness.

Nothing adds up anymore.

“You’re smart,” Beckman says. “And you’re strong.”

He kicks you under the table to reclaim your attention from the ceiling, and you jump, yelping. You regard him with a hint of shock. It’s minor violence, yeah, but it’s friendly violence. It’s a new level of engagement. The routine mandates sitting and snarking over more booze than you want to drink. Beckman isn’t the touchy sort.

The cigarette dips as he grins.

“Let yourself believe in something, girl.”

“I – I don’t – what?” Your tongue is too big for your mouth, and your teeth keep getting in the way.

Beckman glances away, and you follow his line of sight through the shouting, and the drinking, and the rowdy delight to your captain.

Shanks.

He’s in the middle of a story, slapping the bar for emphasis. Part of you wishes you could sneak closer. Hear his tall tales and measure them against his usual bullshit. Bask in his presence. But your overwhelming common sense tells you it would burn to sit beside him. Bonfires can catch.

Seas. He really is beautiful.

You remember who you are sitting beside.

The first mate chuckles, and your face burns.

Flailing to your seat, less graceful than most of the drunks, you cough up an excuse.

“I’m going for some air.”

Cigarette smoke chases you out the door, and you march away from the windows, turning the corner into an alley where you can breathe.

Fuck’s sake.

You press cold palms to your cheeks, horrified by the heat. Did your feelings show? Beckman clearly spied something to amuse himself with in your expression. Who else? How many witnesses to your shame would cackle at your expense in the morning? Maybe they’d just assume you stepped out to throw up. Because you had good manners, unlike the rest of them.

Not a bad thought, actually. You feel like hurling.

Night has settled over the town, and the locals are giving the pirates their space. Normal people have normal work to do in the morning, and even Shanks can’t chat the stars still. A breeze carries whispers of the sea into your hideaway, and you ache for the clean smell of deep water far from shore.

Your resolve cracks like an egg.

Slumping against the brick wall at your back, you accept your truth. It doesn’t even take half a bottle of rum this time.

You love Shanks. You crave life aboard the Red Force. The captain shared a taste of his world and instead of thanking him for the experience, you’ve gotten addicted. Demanding. It will never be enough. Given the chance, you’d die happy at sea, listening to the ship groan creaking lullabies.

You might die if they agree to your proposal.

If Shanks leaves you forever.

Even though that would be safest. That would be reasonable.

That would be good for the crew. For him.

“There you are.”

Think of the devil.

Shanks, framed in moonlight, invades your sanctuary. “Thought you might be sneaking off.”

You freeze. Your mind goes blank with the fear of being caught and the contrary urge to impress. Something spews out of your mouth, but you have no control over it.

“Just breathing.”

What a fucking stupid answer. Might as well tell him there was no air in the tavern when you noticed how his eyes sparkle when he laughs.

“Well.” He picks a spot on the wall across from you, mimicking your position. “Can’t have you stopping that, can we?”

An obligatory smile. You’ll give him whatever he commands, but there’s no joy here.

Believe in something.

Sure. Just like that. Drop all your defenses as you waited for the executioners’ spears.

Shanks smiles at nothing and glances towards the sky.

“Your thoughts aren’t too far from mine,” he says. “The old system needs adjustments. Can’t have you catching any more bullets with just your skin.” His eyes flick back to you, fixing you in place. You aren’t sure whether it’s your nerves or his haki.

“But we have very different ideas about your future with the crew.” His captain’s voice rings between the broken crates and empty barrels surrounding you. He’s found something he doesn’t like and he’s working out a solution, gearing up to state orders and fix his will on the future.

It’s a challenge. You rise to it.

“And what’s your great idea, then?” If he thinks he’s solved the equation better than you can, let him prove it.

“No more layovers. You stay on the Red Force like every other crewmate. The Den Den Mushi aren’t a bad idea, and I agree we’ll need new eyes and ears on shore, but your place onboard is essential.”

If people keep telling you things like that, you’ll start to believe it. You shake your head, knocking the warm fuzzies away before they rot your perspective like mold.

“I kind of doubt that. No offense.”

His eyebrows rise. “You think I’d have brought you on if I didn’t think you could cut it?”

“I mean,” you gesture broadly at the crew that isn’t there, “anyone can do the numbers with a little time and training.”

“Sorry to ruin your rosy view of the world, but they really can’t.” That captain voice is gone. He’s all smiles again. Teasing almost. Like he knows a secret and is watching you walk into a trap. “Not like you. Mathematics are strategy in your hands, and we need more of that. You have no idea how many times Building Snake complains when you aren’t around, or how often Lucky Roux moans about larder management. Your work touches everything.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting in the distant streetlights, and props his arm against the wall just over your head. Heat radiates from him and that stupid unbuttoned shirt he always wears. Can he feel the warmth curling out in answer from your own skin?

“And I agree with Lucky, by the way,” he croons. “You’re very scary.”

Your breath physically stutters. It’s entirely involuntary, and you bite your tongue, eyes wide as you struggle to read him. He still wants you on the crew. Alright. But what else?

Logic strains under the pressure of his regard.

You force yourself to breathe. Hopefully that will help you think. Unlikely, though, with the way Shank’s scent fills your head. It’s dizzying.

“It would still be a problem.” This isn’t reasoning. This is pleading.

His smile flicks to life, and like the helpless little moth you are, you prepare for it to scorch you.

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

One of his feet slides forward, not quite invading your space, but close. His toes linger in the gap between your feet, suggesting a path of navigation you know will take you past whirlpools and monsters.

He doesn’t get it. A quick pity fuck won’t fix this.

“It’s easy to ignore feelings you don’t have, Captain, but it would be a problem for me.” There’s nowhere to look but his eyes or his pecs, so you swallow your jagged anxiety and focus on his face. A strong twitch would bring you together, you’re that close. He deserves a punch. But that might just be an excuse to touch him. And you’d rather do that softly. Fuck.

“If we’re going to talk about it, then let’s get to the point.” There isn’t much space to draw yourself up, but you try, and you don’t miss the way his lips twitch. You want it to make you angry, but the rage just won’t kindle. “I caught feelings. That’s my fault, and you’ve been more than gracious about it, but I meant what I said, and if the best thing for the crew – for you – is to peel off, that’s what I’m going to do.”

That’s it. You’ve said your piece. Now he can make his move as captain. Chide you. Dismiss you. Laugh. Your eyes shut, and you brace for words you don’t want to hear. If he’d just cooperated with your plan and let you distance yourself, maybe you could’ve –

Hair whispers over your face, and Shanks’ temple presses to yours.

Your eyes pop open. He’s right there. Right here. He wasn’t supposed to come closer.

He chuffs, and his breath rolls down your collar.

“So stupid.”

He kisses your forehead as you stand dumb and amazed.

The…fuck?

What?

His little chortle cracks into a hearty laugh, but it isn’t mockery or a mere diversion from your shame. He laughs all the time, for all kinds of reasons. But this one’s real. His shoulders shake with it.

“So smart. But so stupid.”

There must be a proper response to this. But it feels like your first meeting all over again. Your decisions have been upended, and it’s all his fault.

But it’s a good thing. Isn’t it? Wasn’t it even back then, when he arguably ruined your life and turned you into a pirate?

It isn’t bad.

But it can’t be real.

Even though he’s filling your senses, and you’d never dare hope for something like this, let alone imagine it.

But –

Cigarette smoke wafts down the alley with Beckman’s shadow as he turns the corner. “You both are. Makes you well suited.”

The glowing tip of his cigarette is shockingly grounding. The bright red is familiar. It isn’t the romantic, pale moonlight or the dim yellow streetlights that cast everything in chiaroscuro. That’s really Beckman. This is really happening.

Your soul and mind slam back into your body with the violence of a shipwreck. Your defenses splinter, and it feels like your whole chest cracks open to put your heart on display, leave it pulsing and naked for a careless pirate’s strike.

Oh, holy shit.

You have absolutely no idea what your expression is doing at the moment, but Shanks leans even further in, letting his cloak block you from his first mate’s view. His lips hover by your ear.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Do you trust me?”

Trust. Beyond his role as captain. Shanks the man. Shanks the man who said he doesn’t have a problem with your feelings. Shanks the man who doesn’t have a problem with your feelings and dropped a kiss on your head while crowding you against the wall in a dark alley.

Simple answer, really.

“I guess I do.”

He pulls back and grins like a gods damned shark.

“All I needed to hear.”

For the second time that night, he rips the ground from under your feet and flips your world on its head.

Fairly literally, this time.

Between one fluttering heartbeat and the next, he’s ducked, thrown you over his right shoulder and launched out of the alley. Straight into the air. Wind rips tears from your eyes, and your hair stings where it lashes against your skin.

Backman and the tavern shrink below, and gravity yanks on your stomach.

“Shanks!”

His laughter rumbles through his shoulder into your belly. He must’ve been expecting to sacrifice an eardrum to your shriek, and whatever he’s getting from this must be worth it. To him at least.

You’ve only seen him sky walk once or twice, one of many abilities he stores under good humor in case of bad weather. Since the Red Force practically demands fair weather by its very presence, you haven’t seen him break out the weatherproofing often.

Nails sinking into his cloak, your mind blanks on adrenaline. There are no equations in freefall.

Just as you begin to lose altitude, he steps again, and you howl, trying to sink into the man’s flesh. You’re like a cat frantically trying to cling to a human raft.

He touches down on the deck of his command ship, and you can’t unlock your knuckles from where they’ve knotted into his clothes. Just as well, because he doesn’t take his arm from around your knees. A few steps bring him to the captain’s quarters. A kick opens the door. A second kick closes it. And then – finally – he helps you slide down from his shoulder.

Your legs are boneless. You refuse to let go. Your dignity hangs by the thread count of his clothing.

“I thought you trusted me?”

Looking up, you meet his shit-eating grin, and you pant in lingering terror and growing rage. “Fuck you, Shanks.”

He’s practically glowing, he’s so happy. Cackling in glee, he falls back into a wide chair, pulling you to sit across his lap, your back supported by his remaining arm.

Shaking the hair from his eyes, he beams at you. Like you’re finally in on the joke.

“I think I need to keep you closer. Hard to take care of me from so far away, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He isn’t wrong. The distance between you swelled like an ulcer, a terrible little fear you couldn’t help worrying as you scanned the newspapers and bounty posters for an update. For proof he was alright. Safe. Well.

But as the ringing fades from your ears and you take stock of where you’re sitting, you’re afraid to add up the final sum.

“Captain – Shanks.” You catch yourself. His hand rests on your knee, and because you have no idea where to put yours, you clutch one fist to your chest and let the other settle over his wrist.

What is happening? A black and white answer is all you want. You can set a course if you can just find the difference between north and south.

“What is this?”

His nose traces your jaw, and you turn into the contact as eager butterflies cannibalize the anxious moths banging around in your gut.

“What do you think?” He’s lured you close enough, and he steals a kiss. A satin brush of desire that conjures a sigh from his chest. Warm eyes find yours as they blink open, like sunset at sea. “It was never your problem. It’s my fucking problem, too.”

Whether or not he’s lying, there’s only one good response to that.

You know what to do with your hands now.

Taking his jaw, you pull him into another kiss. A proper one that delivers on all the restrained promise of the first. His grip rises to your waist, pulling you into his chest as his lips tattoo his feelings over yours. You’re far from a blank page, but you doubt you’ll ever be able to read old notes under the bold script he prints.

He pulls back to breathe, and he smiles under the little pecks you pepper over his face. Skilled fingers explore everything he can reach, and you know you’ve gotten too close to the bonfire. You’re starting to melt.

“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long,” he murmurs.

When his hand wanders over your chest, firm enough to spark every nerve to life, your head falls back, and he takes advantage. He mouths along your neck, around your ear as he continues.

“At first, I wanted to prove to myself that I could be good, that I wouldn’t take advantage of you. Be a responsible captain.”

He squeezes a breast, and the jolt rushes down your spine, trapping itself between your legs. Red hair twists between your fingers as you desperately explore him in return. He’s too busy talking and tasting to kiss.

“Wanted to give you room to breathe. To come to your senses.”

The wandering hand drifts. Smoothing over your sternum and down your belly, spreading over your trousers’ fastening.  

“But then one thing led to another, and Beck handed me your bounty poster.”

It shouldn’t surprise you that Shanks has a motormouth, even as a lover. His words touch as skillfully as his hand, though, and you’re drunker than you’ve ever been on rum. He doesn’t have to be good. Whatever he wants, he can have. You’ve been a cold pile of kindling for an age. He’s set you blazing to match his heat.  

His touch lingers on the buttons, and you kiss whatever parts of him you can reach. The crown of his head. His temple. You map his shoulders with curious fingertips, pushing under the collar of his loose shirt. He listens to your cues.

The first button pops free.

“I have no doubt you could go out on your own.”

The second button.

He slips his hand under your knee, pulling your leg to straddle him, your back to his chest.

“Make a name for yourself as a pirate. Terrify the world with your numbers and your revolver. But I couldn’t bring myself to be happy for you if you did.”

Back up your thigh, over your hip. He lets you simmer, anticipating his next move. Even as he finally moves under your clothes, he pauses short of the goal, and you whimper. Your head rests against his shoulder, allowing him every piece of you he desires, and he nips your earlobe.

Drunk off him as you are, he wants you to hear every word that comes next.

“I want you to be my pirate.”

Calloused fingertips creep between your folds, and you immediately roll your hips, chasing him the way you’ve wanted to for so long.

He grazes your clit in passing, and your back arches. “I am. I’ve always been yours, you idiot. Please, Shanks!”

Boyish giggles trail over your flesh as he finally touches you, strokes you, finds the proof of your unquenchable infatuation. He hums, beyond happy with himself and the task in hand.

“Poor thing. Have you been aching for me like this all year?”

You gather enough breath to pant, “Longer.”

He croons and licks the first dew of sweat blooming along your throat.

“Poor little pirate.”

Quick circles over your most sensitive spot push you staggering towards the precipice in record time. You’ve never gotten yourself off so fast. No partner has ever managed it, that’s for fucking sure.

But it’s him.

And he’s holding you, and all but purring as you flutter and jerk against him, and you want to…

One finger pushes in, and you buck, crying out. You’re still riding the cliff’s edge, and you aren’t sure if this is better or if you’re going to give him another scar for abandoning your clit. You whine, and the finger pulls back. It returns with a friend at a fresh angle that grinds his palm exactly where it belongs.

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

He searches, stretching you as he goes. When he finds what he’s looking for, your eyes all but roll back into your head. The both of you groan as you clench. He shoves you over the border, and you lose yourself. The orgasm rips your mind away, and you float, convinced you’d drift to the ceiling if he wasn’t holding you. Wasn’t still knuckle-deep, drawing out the fall.

By the time you settle back into your own skin, your toes and the tips of your fingers are tingling. He removes his hand and it only makes you want to cry a little.

Until he brings it to his lips. Sucks his fingers clean. Winks as you stare.

“To the bed?” He isn’t even trying to hide how excited he is. You can feel him, long and hard under your thigh, but the roguish glee in his eyes reveals more.

Once you’re in that bed, he won’t be letting you up for the rest of the night.

“Just a minute.” You pet his face, almost slurring as you explain. “I need to catch my breath.”

“Mn. Take your time then.” He nuzzles into your neck, and without the distraction of his fingers curling inside you, it tickles. A lot. His stubbly little beard rubs into your flesh, and you realize he’s doing it on purpose when you flinch and the hand resting over your belly squeezes. He draws his cheek over the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Hmm? Something wrong?”

“N-no.” Fuck that. You can win this game. Even though you’re already biting your lip to keep the giggles locked in.

His whiskers move down your neck as he aggressively cuddles into the tender skin, hunting for the spot that will break your resolve. He finds it in the gap between shoulder and neck. Laughter tears out of you, and the hand on your belly dances to your side, setting you writhing on Shanks’ lap.

“Alright! Alright!” You go to stand, but his arm keeps you pinned.

“Thought you needed to catch your breath?” He doesn’t move away from your neck as he speaks, using his lips and breath to continue your torment.

“I yield,” you gasp. Tears gather in your eyes as you wriggle, trying to push your way free. “Let me go.”

The tickling fingers smooth flat again, and he stops attacking your neck. Only to place a chaste kiss there. “Never.”

But he does, letting you rise, sliding his grip down to hold your hand. He looks up at you, his heart in his eyes, and everything inside goes still.

It’s like sailing through a Calm Belt after passing through a storm. It’s the same ocean, but everything looks different.

Right.

This is it.

Safely at anchor, the ship barely moves, but there’s always that subtle sway that keeps the light moving. Your sea legs find it a thousand times firmer than shore. A dance that lulls and leaps. Home and heart.

His thumb rolls over your fingers.

Here’s the solution to the equations that never quite fit.

The solution brings your knuckles to his lips for a kiss, holding your gaze until you blink back to yourself.

“Take off some of those layers for me.” He’s all suggestion, in every sense, and nodding, you step back, letting your fingertips slide free of his hold.

You have no idea how to perform a striptease without making yourself ridiculous, so you stay practical. His attention keeps you safe, and you don’t look away as you shed your jacket, pull off your boots, tug away your socks. When your hands drift to your trousers, still unbuttoned from Shanks’ good work, his eyes dip to follow. The fabric falls, and his tongue runs over his lower lip, almost like he’s caught in thought. But his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide when he meets your eyes again, and you doubt there’s anything left in his head besides visions of what he’s about to do to you.

You begin working on your shirt buttons, and he stands. His shirt pulls smoothly over his head, a feat he performs gracefully even with a single arm, and your fingers shake, stumbling in their task as you appreciate the view. Golden skin and a warrior’s build. It isn’t even the first time you’ve seen him shirtless. Damn.

He basks under your appraisal, shaking back his hair and leaning his hips forward so there’s no mistaking his interest as he unbuckles his belt.

It dawns on you, as you struggle with your buttons, eyes lingering over inappropriate places, that it has been a very long time since you got this far. Romantically. With a man who’s clearly well endowed.

Math can be a cruel mistress. Even if physics isn’t your specialty, you understand some things about pegs and holes. Laws of volume and stretch. That sort of thing.

“Stop calculating.” He’s caught you. As usual. And he’s laughing you both past any anxiety. Easy as a strong wind under blue skies. “I can feel those damn numbers stealing your attention from me, and I’m a greedy, greedy pirate. I need it all.”

Your own grin catches, spreads.

A greedy pirate you can trust. Do trust.

Equations be damned. Shanks has always found a way to get what he wants, and you know he wants your pleasure as much as you want his.

He kicks off his sandals as he swaggers up to you and pulls you tight, banishing your calculations and concerns with a kiss. When his tongue begs entrance, you oblige, hurrying to meet him, eager to feel and touch and play in thrilling new ways.

You find the bed together. Or it finds you. Maybe, like Beckman, it has some secret understanding with the captain. A conspiracy to place you somewhere soft and vulnerable. Regardless, you fall back, never leaving your lover’s embrace.

Shanks is more than happy to finish with your shirt, making a show of slipping each loop free with his one hand. Everything else comes off in a rush. The man’s an octopus, groping, squeezing, and surrounding you like he has twice as many limbs as most men.

He has you on your back, bare, one leg hoisted over his shoulder. As he takes his time coating himself in your slick, a moment of clarity breaks through the crush of sensation.

“I really do want to take care of you.”

There’s no pause. He lets your words soak in, rumbling in satisfaction as he slowly breaches your entrance. He falls forward to rest on his forearm, covering you as he rocks in and out, creeping deeper like an incoming tide.

“Oh, you are. You’re taking such good care of me.”

He seals any further complaints away with a kiss, moaning and lapping into your mouth. There’s too much to parse into individual feelings. You’re so full, and he’s so warm. Pleasure thrums through you, and everything tangles into the press of bodies, the unspeakable intimacy of the act.

Some unknown time later, when you sneak a breath and a thought, you gasp, “Not fair.”

Wicked laughter answers, and he pushes deep, grinding up against your clit to chase away any idea of the world beyond how good he feels.

 “I’m your captain. Nothing about this is fair.” He bites your lip and moves faster, gleefully driving you to the brink of insanity once again.

Your body delights in his, and it fights to keep him as resolutely as your mind tried to escape. Every time you flutter and clench around him, his eyelashes flutter over his cheeks. The muscles over his back roll under your grip.

It’s strange and wonderful. A day ago, you expected him to abandon you to your sensible plans. Now, well, it’s a whole new world, isn’t it?

Whispers of his name pick loose strings from his control.

When you crash through your orgasm, burying your scream in his shoulder, he pounds you through it. His mouth moves, full of words he’s beyond articulating, and a groan from the depths of his soul shakes through the both of you as finds his own release.

He falls beside you, hair damp with sweat, meeting your pleasure-numbed eyes with a lazy smile.

“C’mere.”

His arm loops around you, pulls you back to his chest, and the afterglow hums over you like music.

Distant voices remind you of the crew outside Shanks’ quarters.

“I hope you know,” he mumbles, “you don’t have to worry about finding a spare hammock below decks ever again.”

He snuggles into your neck, and you stroke the arm anchoring you.

This dickhead.

How many crewmates saw the captain’s little show? How many put the pieces together after you both disappeared? How many heard you chanting his name?

Gods. You’ll have to find some energy to worry about that tomorrow.

Might be a good reason to get drunk, actually.

[uravitypng]

Shameless smut for atsumu with a chubby reader?👉🏼👈🏼

you ask and i deliver <333 (because i can't help myself when it comes to writing about tsumu asdfghjk.) there may be some mistakes in this, it's only something short i wrote so hopefully you like this short shameless smut everyone !! i love atsumu with a chubby reader, here's a full fic i did with atsumu and a chubby reader (x)

"tsumu we're going to be late! our reservations are at half seven, we're meeting all the others in less than an hour." you're meant to be celebrating a msby win with the team and their partners but instead you're laying in your shared bed with your fiancee with your dress bunched up.

"don't blame me. it's yer fault for looking so hot. you can't blame me when my wife looks so good."

"wife? not yet." you try and pull your dress back down but atsumu isn't having it and swats your hand away, not letting you.

"shut yer trap, ya know what i mean." while keeping your dress bunched up he runs his large hands over your thick thighs, enjoying your soft skin underneath his hands.

you giggle at his response but your laugh is cut off as he places a kiss over your clothed clit making you gasp. " 's not my fault when you look so hot in that dress, clinging to all your curves like that. you're making me go crazy." he pulls down your underwear and throws them somewhere behind them not taking any notice to where, "we can be a little late."

"a little?" you snort as you stare of in the direction of your discarded clothes. he smirks and kisses your hip, pulling down your dress too at the top so that your tits are on display and your dress is only covering the middle part of your body. atsumu pulls down your bra and gropes your breasts.

"this is stupid," he says suddenly before he starts pulling up your dress to take it off completely and moves up to face you so he can look at how pretty you are.

"i thought you said it looked hot?" you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss him.

"you do! ya just look better with it off," he smirks and allows you to pull him down. kissing messily, all tongue and teeth, clashing , right in the moment, he just can't help himself when it comes down to you and you're not one to complain just as swept up around atsumu as he is with you.

his clothes come off just as rushed as yours did, hastily pulling down his jeans and boxers all at once. he quickly threw them behind him too, getting the same treatment as your clothes did.

atsumu lifted your thigh up, resting his palm at the bottom, where he's slung your thigh over his shoulder and he's folding your body as he plunges his fat cock into you. your wet heat envelops him and he groans, "jesus baby, i love you s'much."

he ruts into you hard and fast, causing your plush body to jiggle with each thrust and atsumu doesn't know where to look, you look like a goddess in his eyes and every inch of you is perfect he just doesn't know where to look. your tummy rolls that are squished together, your breasts that freely bounce without any bra, your cute face and chubby cheeks, your pretty pussy that keeps sucking him back in with every thrust, not wanting him to go, leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock with every thrust. he can't decide where to look- you're perfect.

you admire how handsome your fiancee is above you, bleached dyed hair that's became messy after him jumping on you, a light sheen of sweat covers his forehead and his lips plump, looking slightly swollen from how much you've been kissing. you reach a hand up and tug his hair, pulling him down so he's close enough for you to kiss again and you do kiss.

one hand is still holding onto your thigh occasionally squeezing the softness making him harder. his other hand is holding onto one of your hands, fingers intertwined. "love you too 'tsumu!" you moan and you're gripping onto his hand even tighter.

you turn up to dinner late, very late.