#The Eyes Of Alice Cooper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year ago

Text

Ex Appeal

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin gets a frightful visitor on Halloween.

CW: Angst, fluff, suggestive themes, alludes to past cheating

WC: 3500+

This fic was written for @roosterforme’s Rocktober challenge! Inspired by the song Poison by Alice Cooper.

Masterlist

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jake says with a look of disgust – as much of it as he can muster. You, after all, have been his greatest source of misery as of late.

You give him a dirty look – your specialty – and barge into his home as though you own the place and Jake’s just a goddamn doorman. “I need to lay low for a bit.”

Jake narrows his eyes as he turns to face you. He keeps the door open because he’s still hoping you’re going to leave any minute. “Lay low?” he asks mockingly. “What’d you do? Commit murder?” He wouldn’t be surprised.

You peek around his arm to glance out at the street. “Someone’s looking for me.”

Jake watches you impassively. “Is it the police?” Then, after a moment, he adds, “Is there a reward?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re the only one in this neighbourhood that I trust,” you say, pushing on the door that Jake is obstinately keeping open.

Jake nods. “Shame that trust doesn’t go both ways,” he comments contemptuously.

You eye him irritably. “Close the door.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

“I just did.”

Jake shakes his head. “You could not have been more vague.”

You sigh. “Close the door and I’ll tell you.”

Jake exhales warily and shuts the front door. He surveys your outfit. “What are you wearing?”

You glance down at your ensemble: a black, form-fitting body suit and fishnet stockings. You’re also sporting knee-high boots and you’ve got what looks like six extra arms coming out of your back. You look back up at him with an annoyed expression on your face. “It’s Halloween,” you snap defensively.

Jake grimaces. “Yeah, I know.” He gestures to a cauldron full of candy sitting near the front door. “There’s gonna be a fuck-tonne of children coming through here trick-or-treating in like half an hour and you’re dressed like a gothic porn star.”

Instead of being offended, you lift your eyebrows in surprise. “You’re handing out candy?”

Jake sighs and places his hands on his hips, fixing you with a stern look. “Yeah, I’m handing out candy. That’s what adults do on Halloween.”

You stare at him as a smile materializes on your face. “Is that your costume?” you ask facetiously, gesturing at his checkered polo shirt. “Adult?”

Jake squares his jaw to mask the fact that he found your joke humorous, but you seem to notice the shift in his features because your own grin broadens. “My mom got me this shirt,” he says.

“Ah,” you respond. “A fellow adult.”

Jake tears his gaze away from you, focusing instead on the shiny, pointed toes of your stilettos. “Why’re you here?” he asks again, this time a lot less peevishly and a lot more grimly.

You bend down to unzip your boots. “I’m a spider,” you say. “Black widow.”

Jake glances up to meet your gaze as you straighten up. He nods. “Suits you.”

You give him a flat look. “I was at the bus stop and some dude started harassing me.”

Jake’s eyes trail down your scantily glad body. “You don’t say,” he remarks sarcastically.

Your jaw drops in outrage. “Are you victim blaming?”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “It was a joke.”

You cringe. “It was in poor taste.”

Jake closes his eyes and lets out a tired sigh. He’s had about enough of your attitude. “You wanna talk about poor taste?” he asks. “Where’s that lovely boyfriend of yours?”

You watch him sourly. “We’re not together anymore, if you must know,” you reply.

Truth be told, Jake probably didn’t need to know. But, now that he does, it’s only fitting that he respond with, “Shocking.”

You give him the finger. As if he were the one who’d been dating two people at the same time.

There’s a knock on the door. “Fuck,” he mutters, giving you a moody look. “Hide,” he says. “Unless you’d rather traumatize a bunch of eight-year-olds.”

You grimace at him. “You think eight-year-olds haven’t seen worse?”

Jake scans the low-cut neckline of your costume. He can’t think of anything more erotic if he tried. But, if he’s being honest, it’s not the outfit so much as your insane body that’s the culprit. He reaches out to grab your hand and pull you aside, making sure you’re tucked safely behind the door before opening it.

He smiles down at the two little kids on his porch when they yell, “TRICK-OR-TREAT!” at the top of their lungs.

“Well, well, well,” he says cheerily, bending down to grab a handful of candy out of his cauldron. “Who do we have here?” He puts the candy into one of their bags. “Are you a mermaid?”

The girl nods happily.

Jake wows in amazement. “You’re the prettiest mermaid I’ve ever seen!” He bends down to grab another handful of candy and drops it into the second child’s bag. “And you must be Iron Man!” he exclaims. “That’s one cool costume, bud. You look great!”

When Jake finally closes the door and looks at you, he sees that you’ve got your arms folded over your chest and a giant smirk on your face.

“What?” he asks darkly.

Your smile widens. “That was cute.”

Jake takes a step from the door and looks away from you. He’s not about to get sucked back into your web of lies, no pun intended. “You wanna hand some out?” he asks.

“I thought you don’t want me traumatizing the children,” you respond sarcastically, stepping out of the corner toward him.

Jake glances at you with a small smile. “I can give you some clothes, if you like.”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Adult clothes?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Come on, before more kids show up.”

He makes his way into his bedroom and grabs a pair of jogging pants and t-shirt and brings them back out for you. “Bathroom’s down the hall,” he says.

“I remember,” you respond, but you’ve already started to remove your bodysuit.

Jake turns away in alarm and holds out the clothes for you. “Do you?”

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” you say. “Shoot, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Jake groans. “Are you for fucking real?”

“You got a pair of boxers?”

Jake swallows uncomfortably. “Hold this,” he instructs, keeping a hand over his eyes as he hands you the crumpled clothes and starts back for his bedroom.

“You know what? I’ll just go commando.”

Jake takes a deep, cleansing breath and turns back toward you. He keeps his eyes closed and holds a hand out so as not to bump into anything as he walks. Of course, as luck would have it, he stumbles into you.

“What the fuck, dude?” you exclaim as his hands cling to your naked body, steadying you so you don’t fall over.

Jake squeezes his eyes tightly so that they don’t open inadvertently. “Sorry, sorry!” he winces, finally stabilizing both himself and you. He feels the softness of your skin underneath his palms as his hands do a final sweep along your back before he lifts them away from your body with a grimace. He’s bracing himself for a punch in the face.

“Are you a dumbass? Open your eyes!” you screech. “You’ve seen me naked how many times?!”

“Twelve,” he responds, a little hoarsely. All he can think about is how smooth your skin felt in his hands not a moment ago and it’s driving him a little mad.

“It was a rhetorical question,” you say pointedly. “You counted?”

“Are you decent yet?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“I’m never decent,” you mutter under your breath and Jake can’t help but smirk. “But if you’re asking whether or not I’m dressed. Then, yes, I am.”

Jake releases a heavy sigh and opens his eyes cautiously.

You scowl at him. “What, you think I’m tricking you?”

“Well, you aren’t treating me.”

You stare at him coolly. “You’re such a delight. Can’t imagine why we ever broke up.”

“Need a reminder?” he calls as you make your way back into the front hall. “It’s because you cheated on me!”

You’re standing at the front door with your arms crossed. “I didn’t cheat, for the last time,” you retort. “We weren’t exclusive.”

Jake presses his lips into a thin line. “I was exclusive.”

You shake your head in frustration. “Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Fine.”

“Great.”

There’s another knock on the door. You sigh irritably and reach for the doorknob.

“Hello!” you exclaim enthusiastically the moment the door is open.

The mob of children on Jake’s doorstep all look up at you with exuberant grins and yell their opening line in a loud, messy chorus.

You react with an animated gasp. “Oh my goodness! You guys are a frightful bunch!”

The kids laugh. Indeed, they’re dressed as zombies, ghosts, and vampires, and, when you comment on their appearance, they growl and make scary faces at you. Jake smiles at them and then at you as you distribute the candy from the cauldron excitedly.

Once the door is closed, however, you drop the act, giving him an icy look as you settle yourself on the little bench near the door.

Jake fights the urge to sit next to you and maybe get a little lost in the smell of your perfume. He still gets a whiff of it from time to time when he walks by his closet. Which reminds him –

“I have your sweater,” he says awkwardly.

You glance up at him coldly. “Well, why didn’t you give it to me? It’d probably look better than this.” You tug on the hem of the t-shirt he gave you.

Jake doubts it; the fact that he could see your nipples through the fabric of his own shirt is even more of a turn on than your low-cut bodysuit had been. But he responds with, “Probably. But I’m not about to let you change again.”

You snort. “Fair.”

Jake wonders just how detrimental sitting next to you might be to his personal journey of recovery. He figures that you also would prefer that he stay as far away from you as possible. Ultimately, however, he decides that it’s his bench, after all, and that he’ll be sharing it with you and not the other way around. And, with regard to getting over you, well, he can try again tomorrow.

Jake makes his way over to the bench and you eye him cautiously as he approaches. Silently, you slide to make room for him. He gulps nervously and lowers himself onto the seat beside you.

“What were you doing at the bus stop, anyway?” he asks, staring down at his own clasped hands because he can’t handle looking at you when you’re sitting so close.

“Frank and I were on our way to a party,” you respond sullenly.

Jake glances up at you despite himself. “Thought you two broke up.”

You meet his gaze and promptly look away – apparently, you’re not too keen on engaging in eye contact at this proximity either. “We did,” you say curtly. “About an hour ago.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “An hour ago?”

“We had a fight on the way. I hopped out of the car at a red light.”

Jake leaps out of his seat. “Are you crazy?” he exclaims. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

You give him an amused look. “Don’t you fly jets for a living?”

Jake gapes at you incredulously. “I trained for that,” he retorts.

You let out a small laugh. “You’re right,” you reply. “I should’ve practiced first.”

Jake draws a hand over his mouth. “Okay, so you got out of the car in the middle of traffic,” he says with a wince. “And he, what? Just let you go?”

You shrug. “Wouldn’t you?”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “In what you were wearing? I wouldn’t even let you go to the bathroom by yourself.”

You stare at him with a grin. “That’s a bit excessive.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “How many guys made passes at you before you finally decided that taking the bus home wasn’t the brightest idea?”

You lower your gaze without responding.

“As if that douchebag just left you,” Jake says angrily.

“Well, I wasn’t being very nice.”

“There’s a surprise.”

You eye him dangerously.

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” Jake says. “This isn’t the safest neighbourhood.”

You suck in your cheeks and nod. “Yeah, I was pretty freaked out actually,” you admit. “There was a group of guys following me and they kept making lewd comments. When I got to the bus stop, they sort of surrounded me…”

You trail off and Jake’s hands curls into fists of their own volition. “I could kill your boyfriend.”

“Ex,” you remind him.

“Whatever,” he says. After a moment, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. “I pretended to call someone – you actually,” you say with a laugh. “I had a whole fake conversation with you on my way over. They lost interest in me after a little while and took off.”

He watches you solemnly. “You could’ve actually called me,” he says.

Your face turns skeptical. “Right. And you’d pick up?”

Probably not. “Of course,” he responds. Then he sighs and shakes his head. “Maybe I wouldn’t.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Jake sighs and sits back down beside you.

Several more groups of trick-or-treaters come and go and you and him take turns answering the door. Occasionally, both of you jump up at the same time and end up oohing and aahing in unison at the various costumes that grace Jake’s doorstep.

This activity does little to help quell the feelings he’s tried for months to repress. He remembers grudgingly the night he told you he was falling for you and you telling him that you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment. That’s when he found out that he wasn’t the only one you’d been seeing.

In your defense, it’s not something you had been actively hiding. In fact, you probably thought that Jake was also sleeping around, given his reputation. But Jake caught feelings like an idiot and was heartbroken when you finally showed your cards.

He spent nearly a year convincing himself that you’re absolute scum. Yet, here you are, looking cute as a button in his joggers and t-shirt, laughing giddily at the neighborhood children like you’re some kind of sweetheart. Like you could fool him now.

Jake slumps back down on the bench, trying to interact with you as little as possible. He can sense that you’re starting to win him over again, and he can’t have that happen. He will not be seduced.

You sit beside him with a grand sigh and lean your head back against the wall. “You get a lot of kids here,” you say lightly.

“Mm-hm,” he hums, bending forward to rest his arms on his legs.

“I’m getting hungry,” you say. “You?”

Jake closes his eyes. The last thing he needs is a fucking dinner date with you. “There are some leftovers in the fridge. You can go heat some up for yourself.”

You lay a hand on his back and Jake goes rigid. “You’re not going to eat?” you ask.

“Not hungry,” he manages to say.

Your hand slides unhurriedly down his spine, your fingers grazing him delicately. Jake brings a fist to his mouth to suppress a moan. “I’ll wait, then,” you say softly. Then, before Jake can gather the strength to remove himself from the situation, you lean your body into his and rest your head on his shoulder.

Jake sits very still, trying to decide how best to navigate this turn of events.

“Do you ever miss me?” you murmur faintly.

Jake turns his head to look down at your face while his heart springs into his throat to constrict his breathing. “What are you doing?” he asks huskily.

Your eyes stare deeply into his. “I’m just wondering,” you whisper.

Jake sighs and rubs his forehead. “You just broke up with Frank.”

Your eyes start to fill with tears. “I miss you.”

“Fuck,” Jake mutters and straightens his back. His head drops like a deadweight against the drywall in behind.

You’re displaced in the process but, once he’s situated, you slowly move closer, until your head is resting over his chest.

Jake grits his teeth but wraps his arm around you and, in response, you lay your arm over his abdomen. He can feel your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt. He tightens his embrace around your shoulders and curses some more, in silence this time. What is it about you that he just can’t resist?

You lift your head off his chest so you can be face to face with him. Jake tries very hard not to lock eyes with you because that would likely be the end of him. “Jake,” you say in a wispy sort of tone and Jake instantly loses that fight. He meets your gaze, and your eyes entrance him. “I want you to kiss me,” you breathe.

Jake can almost taste the citrus of your perfume; it hangs over you like a veil. He can already hear your melodic moans; he knows what you sound like when he touches you. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest, the ardent urging of your hands as they slip underneath his shirt.

But what he can’t do is kiss you.

Your lips… your lips are all he can think about. He wants you more than anything in the world but you’re not here the same way he’s here; you’re just passing through while he’s here to stay.

You come impossibly close, aching for just a split second of contact. “Don’t you want to?” you whisper.

Jake can hardly stand being this close to you. “Why are you doing this?” he asks in a low, uneven voice.

You gulp and the tip of your nose brushes his. “I want to be with you, Jake,” you whimper, your fingers digging persistently into his ribs. Your travelling hands ignite a chain of pyrotechnics under his skin that sort of set his entire chest ablaze. “Don’t you want that?”

If only you knew how much. He shakes his head, cupping your cheek in his hand. “How can that be? When you’ve only been single for an hour?”

Your eyes start to sparkle. “You don’t believe me?”

He’ll never believe a word you say. But that doesn’t make him want you any less. He catches the tears that stream down your face with his thumb.

“I never got over you, Jake,” you say, clasping your hand over his on your cheek. “I think about you all the time.”

Jake leans his head into yours and grips your hand in his. If you’re telling the truth, he sympathizes. But, more likely than not, every word coming out of your mouth is fiction.

You push him away and sit up straight, wiping at your tears. “I never meant to hurt you,” you say. “I made a mistake. I realized that the moment you left. And I was too proud to go after you.”

Jake grimaces. “So, you dated Frank for ten months?”

You shrug. “On and off. He cheated on me, so…” you trail off with a cynical laugh. “Got what I deserved.”

Jake furrows his brows. “You don’t deserve that.”

You glance up at him with renewed hope. “I don’t deserve you,” you say with a strangled sigh. “I know that. And you know that, obviously. Which is why you won’t kiss me.”

Jake shakes his head.

“I know that it’s long over, Jake. I’m not delusional,” you say, your eyes so penetrating it feels like they’re clawing right into his soul. “And, I swear, I did not come here for this. It’s just, seeing you again – and your fucking disgustingly adorable adult shirt – handing out candy like a well-adjusted member of society – it reminded me what I missed out on.”

Jake lifts his eyebrows. “A lame, costume-less, party-less Halloween?”

You smile. “It’s not lame. It’s perfect.”

Jake watches you wretchedly. You may look innocent sitting before him in his very own baggy joggers and t-shirt with your dizzyingly beautiful eyes. But you are a fucking black widow. With a venomous bite. And sweet lips that spew lies, webs of which he could never untangle. Poison on the tongue. Toxic to the bone. Fatal. “You’re perfect,” he says.

You gaze at him tenderly, waiting for your moment to strike. Jake is waiting too. There’s no use fighting it, he lost the moment he met you. And he’ll lose as many times as it will take to win you for good.

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. Let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

@atarmychick007

@callsign-sunshine

@shanimallina87

@wkndwlff

@thefandomimagines

@lunamoonbby

@xoxabs88xox

@Elenavampire21

@desert-fern

@averyhotchner

@Topguncultleader

@teacupsandtopgun

@lilyevanswhore

@sarcasm-n-insomnia

@avengers-fixation

@malindacath

@maddievevo

@widemiffyhappy

@dempy

@djs8891

@pono-pura-vida

@phoenix1388

@teaminator

@rascallyrascals

@kmc1989

@drakelover78

@hangmanscoming

@topgun-imagines

@thedroneranger

@joaquinwhorres

@abaker74

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@lynnevanss

@birdy-bat-writes

@alexxavicry

@scenesofobx

@hallecarey1

@rrocky0ah

@ekeel2016

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@maeleeme

@mamachasesmayhem

2K notes · View notes

pessimisticpigeonsworld · 7 months ago

Text

HOTD has made many interesting choices in their adaptation of the story of the Dance. One of their favorite excuses for many of their questionable choices is "feminism". Why did they remove Alicent's ambitions and autonomy? Feminism. Why is Rhaenyra less proactive and hesitant? Feminism. Why are Daemon and Otto the primary active agents in the lead up to the Dance? Well women can't be in the wrong or violent, so feminism.

These choices are the farthest thing from feminist; they're sexist, end of story. Every decision surrounding the women of the Dance reeks of benevolent sexism. One of the most obviously sexist decisions made is the purposeful removal of female cooperation and friendship.

Rhaenyra in F&B has many female allies and friends. Her ladies in waiting loved her so much, one of them, Lady Elinda Massey gouged out her eyes at the sight of Rhaenyra's death. Lady Jeyne Arryn, Lady Alysanne Blackwood, and Lady Sabitha Frey/Vypren are just a few examples of ladies who fought for Rhaenyra (Alysanne and Sabitha literally fought in battles). Lady Fell chose death over betraying her oath to Rhaenyra.

Now, we haven't had any opportunity to meet most of these women I listed in the show. Lady Fell was portrayed as she was written in the book, a very minor character who simply foreshadowed how most of the realm would choose Rhaenyra over Aegon. Elinda Massey, however was reduced to an unnamed servant, not even a lady in waiting. Her treatment is an echo of one of my biggest issues with HOTD, the treatment of Laena and Rhaenys.

Laena was Rhaenyra's dearest friend in the book, in fact it's implied that they had a romantic relationship. Whether you believe that telling or not, it's undeniable that she and Laena were extremely close. They chose to betroth their children while they were infants, Rhaenyra flew to Laena's bedside during her final labor, and she stood vigil with Daemon over Laena's body.

All of that closeness and intimacy was removed in the show to make room for Alicent. So let's break that down: they removed a long and healthy relationship between two women and replaced it with a short-lived (in terms of screen time) friendship that quickly fell apart and turned into an intense rivalry. Reinforcing an old stereotype of female friendship: that it is entrenched in rivalry and toxicity and can quickly be turned to enmity. Alicent was so quickly and easily turned against Rhaenyra and it's even implied that she was jealous of Rhaenyra long before they became enemies.

Rhaenys in the book was an ardent supporter of Rhaenyra. She happily claimed Jace, Luke, and Joff as her grandsons, advised Rhaenyra to go to war, and gladly flew against Aegon and Aemond.

Meanwhile, in the show, Rhaenys was turned into one of Rhaenyra's rivals. She constantly challenged Rhaenyra's ideas, dismissed her as a naive child, disliked her children, and even considered backing the Greens. On top of that, they turned her into yet another "peaceful" woman. She advises against the war, and seems to continue to do so in season two. Rhaenys is virtually unrecognizable in the show. They chose to take a woman who tried to prevent a younger woman being wronged by the patriarchy the same way she was and turned her into a bitter woman who resents Rhaenyra (for most of the show).

HOTD claimed to have wanted to tell a story about how the patriarchy pits women against each other. That's all very well and good, but that's not what they actually did. They took a story where a woman is wrongfully usurped because of her gender and is supported by many other women and turned it into another tired female rivalry story.

Rhaenyra has no female friends aside from Alicent. Laena was turned from her dearest friend/lover into simply a rival for Daemon's affection. Rhaenys was turned from a supportive mentor and defender to someone who took out her resentment for the system on a fourteen year old who only starts to support her when she's proven "peaceful".

HOTD chose to perpetuate a harmful stereotype about women: that we constantly view each other as threats/rivals and can't have truly healthy relationships with other women. Rhaenyra had women who supported and cared for her in the book, in the show all she has is Alicent. A woman who abused and undermined her for ten years, raised her children to hate her, and usurped her. Every change HOTD made in the name of "feminism" solidified just how sexist it really is.

#rhaenyra targaryen #canon rhaenyra targaryen #laena velaryon #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys the queen who never was #anti hotd #anti ryan condal #anti sarah hess #asoiaf #house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #anti alicent hightower

836 notes · View notes

shelbgrey · 7 months ago

Note

I NEED some of those smutty/fluffy head cannons for that beautiful sexy hot cake of a man named Jackson, Plz Pookie!!!

Poison(Jackson Avery)

Paring: Jackson Avery x Sloan!Reader

Summary: ever since the hospital merge Jackson and y/n Sloan didn't get along and would often bit each heads off dispite the growing tension. Then one day they both snap in a unexpected way

Warrings: SMUT! Enemies to lovers Smut, unprotected sex, sorta hate sex.

A/n: I'll do you one better, Pookie, I'll give a whole damn story.

MasterList ML2

Jackson wasn't expecting to see her in the on-call room, but today wasn't his day. Deep down he didn't mean to scowl when he saw her, but after losing his patient, Mark and his mother being on his ass he just wasn't in the mood. He wasn't even in the mood to make a sind comment when he see saw her. He just rolled his eyes and sinp out a comment “Great, just what I needed!”

Jackson and y/n have been working together for a while now and they could never stand each other. Everyone could see that, but everyone(aside from Jackson and y/n) could see the sexual tension that grew stronger every day.

She looked up from the chart she was studying and roll her eyes and got up from the bed. Her day hadn't been the greatest either and she had a long day. She wasn't on the mood to deal with him. “don't worry I was just leaving” she frowned and grab her lab coat that was crumbled up on a chair.

He looked almost amused as he watches the fire grown in the eyes he secretly loved. “Seriously, why do you always have to be so difficult?” He walks towards her, his body language aggressive, but still controlled by his emotions.

She took a deep breath and walked around him. “Seriously, Avery I'm not in the mood”

“I can see that. What's got you all riled up?” His voice drips with sarcasm as he steps infront of her, blocking the exit of the on-call room.

“Don't patronize me, we all know you hate me... Just as much as I hate you” that wasn't true, she didn't hate him. But she wasn't about to get used or her heart broke by him.

He stops, looking down at her, anger and jealousy clear in his eyes. “Fine, let's play it your way. If you hate me so much, maybe we should just get it over with” He steps closer.

She immediately back up until my back hits the wall of the on-call room, her heart is pounding. “g-get what o-over with?” I stuttered.

He smirks, taking another step closer. “I think you know...” his beautiful eyes stared into her soul as stepped closer, leaving nothing more than an inch between them. “You always know how to push my buttons.” He leans both palms against the wall, trapping her between him and the hard surface.

Her breath hitches as she stared at him with doe eyes. “the feeling is mutual Avery” she said, trying to stand my ground. Jackson smirked, capturing her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “which part?”

Jackson chuckles the dryly and grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head. “oh, I do know... since we're both feeling it, we might as well do something about it.”

She suprised herself when she did't fight him, she stood still and watch him as her heart pounded against her chest “Avery...what are you doing?”

“His face is inches from hers as he leans in, his breath hot on herskin. “I'm taking what's mine.” he said roughly then he crashes his lips against hers in a possessive, demanding kiss.

Her breath hitched and her eyes widened at the unexpected contact. She pull away, staring into his beautiful eyes with determination. “you don't own me, I'm not yours to take”

He grabs her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. “Oh, but you are, and I plan to prove it.” He kisses her again, harder this time, his anger and jealousy fueling the intensity. Her lips smashed against his, it was fueled with all her frustration. The first moan of this whole situation fell passed her lips as she felt his tounge brush against her lips demanding entrance. Feeling brave she doesn't, closing her lips denying it entrance.

He groans against her lips, his hands traveled down her waist to her ass, gripping it hard. She gasped at his roughness, giving him the opportunity to slip his tounge passed her lips. Their tounges fought for dominance, but she let Jackson win. As he deepens the kiss. His anger and jealousy start to mix with desire.

Y/n gripped his scrub top in her fist and and pushed him towrds the bed in the on-call room with force. Jackson stumbles back slightly, hitting the bed. His heart is racing as he looks at her. “You really want this?” He asks, his voice rough from the kissing.

“Shut up” she said roughly and stratled his lap, slamming her lips to his for a rough kiss.

Taken completely by surprise, Jackson groans into the kiss. His hands roam down her sides to her ass, pulling her body flush against his. “You're going to regret this when we're done” Jackson murmurs against her lips.

“Probably” she whispered then nipped as his jaw as she pushed him flat on his back on the bed.

“Fuck” He groans, his head falling back against the pillow. His hands slided his large hands under your lab coat, gripping her hips. Y/n quickly tugged her lab coat off and drop on the floor, his breath hitched as he watched her grind her hips against his.

“Fuck, Jackson” she moaned his first name for the first as she grind her hips a little hared. She let a moan slip past her lips when his growing erection pressed against her core.

Jackson groans, arching into her. His hands roam down your his, cupping her ass through her scrubs. “Fuck, I want you” he growls, biting his lip.

Jackson sat up, keeping her trapped in his lap as his lips trail kisses down her jaw and neck. His hands move to the hem of her scrub top, tugging it over her head. “I've dreamed about this for so long.” He whispers, grabbing her hips to control her movements against him.

“M-me too” she accidentally admitted.

His fingers brush against her bra, tracing circles against her clothed nipple with his thumb. “Then stop fighting me” He growls, capturing her lips once more in a hungry kiss.

“What's the fun in that?” she asked breathlessly as her fingers play with his short hair.

He chuckles against her skin, the sound vibrating deliciously. His hands slide underneath her scrub bottoms, caressing her ass. “You're going to be the death of me, you know that?” He teases, his lips trailing down her callorbone to the top of her breasts.

She bit her bottom lips so didn't give him the satisfaction off hearing her moan. She huffed, tugging at his scrub top, wanting it off. Feeling the tug on his scrub top, Jackson smirks against the skin of her breasts before pulling back slightly. “Impatient, aren't we?” He teases, helping to remove his scrub top, revealing his toned torso.

She gulped when she saw his chest, her eyes traveled down his toned torso and bit her lip again, stopping a moan as her hands instinctively traveled down his chest.

“slower,” he sighs, loving her delicate touch. His lips trail kisses up your neck, stopping at your ear. “Take your time.” He whispers, his hips pressing against her's again.

Her finger traveled down his chest slowly till she found the drawl strings of his scrub pants. He groans, arching into her touch. He moans as he watches her hands undo the strings and slide the pants down, freeing his cock. “You're so fucking sexy,” he whispers.

“you're driving me crazy,” he growls, his hands trailing down her sides, pushing her pants along with her underwear off. He discarded them then slides off the bed, pulling his boxers off. He climbs back on top of her, his erection pressing against her slick core. “Tell me to stop”

She shook my head no as pulled him down for a kiss. “Good girl” He whisperes, kissing her deeply. His hips start to rock against her, making he moan. He slowly pushing into her tight heat. He kisses down her jaw and a crossed her collarbone, sucking lightly as he continues to thrust.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes, his eyes locked on hers. His thrusts become faster, harder, as he loses control. “You're mine,” he growls, biting her bottom lip.

She wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him closer against her. “s-so good” she moaned an incomplete sentence, too distracted by the way he feels against her.

“I'm going to make you scream my name” he warns, his eyes burning with lust. He picks up the pace, driving deeper into her wet heat. His body shudders with the effort to hold back as he feels her clenching around him.

“Harder, Jackson... Please” she moaned desperately.

“Fuck” he hisses, slamming into her over and over again. His mouth finds her neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as he loses control. He groans her name as he feels his impending release, his hips bucking wildly.

“jackson!” she screamed against his shoulder as she bucked he hips up, trying to meet his thrusts. He cries out as well, his entire body tenses, shooting his seed deep inside. He holds himself over her, panting. “Holy shit.” He groans out, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

A loud moan leaves her lips as his climax ignited hers. She held onto his shoulders, cumming all over his cock “J-Jackson” she panted as held on to him.

Jackson kisses her softly, his heart still racing. Slowly, he pulls out of her, leaving a trail of their mixed fluids on his member. “God damn it,” he mutters, clearly frustrated with himself.

She look at him with a confused when she saw his expression. He runs a hand over his short hair, trying to calm himself down. He climed off the bed and slipped his boxers on. “I'm sorry. That was... I shouldn't have-” He trails off, not really sure how to finish that sentence.

Her heart crumbled. “I knew it” she mumbled, shaking her head. She had let her guard down and it was like he's already trying to hurt her. Did he hate her that much? This this all just a joke to him?

He saw the pain in her eyes. “No, baby,” he says, pulling her into a tight hug. His heart aches at the thought of hurting her. He knows he's messed up before, but he never meant to make her feel this way. He holds her close, breathing in her sweet scent.

She pushed him away gently. “don't call me that” she mumbled and quickly put her scrubs back on.

His heart sinks when he felt her push him away. He wasn't handling this well. He watches her put her scrubs back on silently, trying to maintain some semblance of distance between the two of them. “Look,” he starts, taking a deep breath.

“No! you got what you wanted” she started as tears pricked her eyes. “you can go back to hating me... I'm glad you got your frustration out” she gritted her teeth as the sarcastic comment fell out.

Jackson's eyes widen at her response, shocked by the harshness in her tone. He didn't expect her to react this way. “I... I didn't mean it like that,” he says, reaching out to touch her arm lightly. “I'm just...”

She shook her head as a single tear fell down her cheek. “J-just stop... Please” she whispered, shaking her head. She refused to look at him.

The sight of her tears only serves to further torment Jackson. He hates knowing he's the cause of her pain. But he also can't seem to control his jealousy. “Fine,” he snapped, having too much pride to tell he how he truly felt.

“I'm gonna go” she croaked out and grabed her lab coat, leaving.

As she walk away broken hearted, Jackson watches her, feeling a mixture of anger, frustration, and guilt. He knows he needs to deal with his jealousy before it destroys everything, but right now, it's consuming him. “God dammit,”

She quickly wipe away her tears and walk down the hospital hallway, trying to keep it together. Jackson remains where y/n left him, his fists clenched at his sides. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. This isn't like him – he's usually the one offering support, not causing pain.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Mark continued to talk, but Jackson wasn't processing any of it. He felt too terrible about how things ended with y/n, even worse he didn't know how to tell his best friend who just happened to be y/n big brother. Mark stopped and looked at him. “Avery, are you even listening?”

Jackson quickly looked up. “hm? Oh yeah... Burn unit right?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, he couldn't help but chuckled. “your way off... What's eatin' you?”

Jackson knew he'd be dead where he stands if he told mark the truth. “nothing”

Mark put his hand on Jackson's chest, stopping him in the middle hallway. “your distracted... What's going on with you?”

Jackson pushed his hand away and looked way, shaking his head. Mark caught sight of a red mark on his neck. Mark chuckled, grabbing Jackson's chin and turned his head to the side to see the hickey on his neck. “so you got laid and it ended badly, so what”

Jackson gulped and moved away from Mark. He felt terrible about y/n and what made things worse Mark ment alot to him. He pushed Mark away, but Mark wasn't done teasing. Mark grabed the collar of Jackson's Lab coat and pulled him back, his smile dropped when he saw the name on Jackson's lab coat wasn't his, but his little sister's. Jackson and y/n must have gotten their lab coats mixed up.

The color in Jackson's face drain as Mark let go of him. “you slept with y/n?” Mark said, his voice dropping. “my little sister”

“Mark I'm so-” Jackson was cut off by mark grabbing him by the collar of his scrubs and slamming him against the wall. Jackson was shaking and his heart pounded with regret. Mark raised his fist and Jackson flinched, but nothing happened.

“Mark, what the hell?” Derek asked, separating Mark from Jackson before he could get punched.

Mark ripped himself out of Derek's grasp. “the basterd screwed y/n”

Jackson was once again shoved against wall. This time he had Derek's arm against his throat. Y/n was just as much as Derek's sister as she was Mark's. “you what” Derek said through his teeth.

Jackson's regret tunred into rage, he shoved Derek off of him. “you don't think I regret hurting her?! She won't even talk to me now!”

“well fix it Avery! Before I knock your teeth out” Mark growled.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

Jackson finally got away from both Mark and Derek, he wanted to find y/n and explain everything and mend what he broke. He couldn't find her anywhere and knew knew she wouldn't awnser his pages. He was about to lose hope, but as he tunred the corner he ran right into her.

He stares at her for a moment before his expression softens. He sees the tears that she's trying so hard to hold back, and his heart aches for her but he can understand she was so angry. He slowly moves in front of her, putting his hand on her arm. “Please... can I talk to you for a minute?” He whispers, not wanting anyone to hear what he's going to say.

I have nothing to say... “she said softly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“y/n, please.” He gently brings her into one of the supply closets, locking the door behind him. He gently pushes her backwards, pauhing her back against the wall. Jackson leans his forehead against her's, holding her face in his hands. “y/n, I know I've hurt you, more than once. I know you probably don't want to hear what I have to say... but I need to say this.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as he pressed his forehead against her's “jackson...”

“I regret everything I've ever done to hurt you, the way I've treated you... I-I'm just...” he takes a deep breath. “I love you, I really, really do. I don't know how many times I've tried to tell myself that I'm not the man for you, I always believed you'd be better off without me, but god damn it” He leans down to gently holds her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, lifting her face up so their eyes met. “when I see your beautiful face I get so... lost.”

The tears wouldn't stop, her heart pounded against her chest from his confession. Y/n looked into his eyes and saw nothing but the truth. She couldn't hold it back any longer, no matter how badly he hurt her “I... I love you too” she said softly.

“You do?” He asked, his eyes searching her's for any sign of sarcasm. After a beat of silence he leans back down and presses his lips against her's, kissing her softly. Y/n kissed him back, holding his face in her hands. This kiss was a lot more gentler and more loving than the first. It was a sign that the odds were in their favor.

“Yes... I forgive you” she said softly, giving him and loving smile.

#Jackson Avery #Jackson Avery smut #Jackson avery imagines #Greys anatomy smut #Jackson avery x reader #Mark Sloan x sister!reader

558 notes · View notes

tkwrites · 11 days ago

Text

Happy Halloween! - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Title: Happy Halloween!

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Warnings: None, it's just some silly, kitschy fun.

Summary: Quinn and Sarah plan for and attend the Canucks team Halloween Party

Word Count: 2,800

Comments: Happy Halloween!

I wasn’t originally planning to write this fic, but an idea lodged itself in my brain after listening to Feed My Frankenstein by Alice Cooper on one of my friends Halloween playlists. It’s kitschy and cheesy, more than a little ridiculous and very, very fanfiction-y. But it turned out so cute and I love it. I hope you do, too!

If you've never heard Feed My Frankenstein before, give it a listen so you can get the vibe.

If you enjoyed this Snapshot, please consider commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask about it. I love talking with you!

Happy Halloween!

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“So I’ve been thinking,” Sarah said as they were on the phone one night.

“About what?” Quinn asked.

“About Halloween.”

A laugh bubbled out of his chest, “isn’t it a little early for that?” The season hadn’t even started. There were just two short weeks before he’d be back in Vancouver, and three and a half weeks before she’d move into his apartment. His stomach filled with giddy butterflies every time he thought of it.

“It’s a big deal for you guys, right?”

“Well, I mean, we have a big party. But, last year, I bought my costume the day before.” He didn’t mention that he’d broken things off with June for good the week before the party and had to scramble to find a costume on his own.

She made a humming noise.

“We can do it earlier if you want,” he said.

“From what Bella told me, people go all out,” she said. “We don’t have to. I just thought I’d throw it out while I have the mental capacity to plan a costume.”

“No,” he pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, “let’s talk about it. Did you have something in mind?”

“Nothing I have my heart set on,” she said, “but I had a few ideas.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“I want to hear yours, too.”

“I just started thinking about this two minutes ago, so I don’t have any idea, yet, but if I think of one, I’ll let you know,” he said, his smile teasing

Sarah rolled her eyes.

“What are your ideas?” he prompted.

“Well, we could do Captain America and Agent Carter,” she offered, “Or I thought the casual look of him and Black Widow from Winter Soldier, with the baseball hat and glasses, when she’s in the hoodie?”

“Okay,” he nodded, “I like the second one. We wouldn’t even have to go shopping for that.”

She giggled. She’d thrown that one in precisely because she knew he’d like it. It was her fallback if none of the others stuck.

“And then I thought about Zombies. Like, we could have someone do skull makeup.”

Quinn winced. “I really don’t want to do face paint. Brock did it last year, and he was finding blue paint all over for days.”

She figured that was the case but thought she’d shoot her shot anyway. “Okay. My last idea was to go as Drs. Grant and Stattler from Jurassic Park.”

“That one wouldn’t be too hard, either.”

“Khaki shorts and button ups,” she agreed.

“And hiking boots,” he mused. It sounded like the most comfortable outfit to him. “The rookies could wear those blow-up dinosaur costumes,” he said with a snort.

Sarah barked a laugh, “we could recreate the arrival scene in your jeep.”

“If we do that, I’m renting a Jurassic Park jeep.”

She’d mostly been kidding about the arrival scene. “I mean, if you want to.”

He beamed over the FaceTime connection. “I think we should do it.” It was a unique costume of something he actually liked, and he could involve some of the guys who didn’t have partners or didn’t want to think about finding costumes. Tanev had done that for him his first year, and it’d been a lifeline he hadn’t known he needed.

So they got to planning, buying the outfits and accessories. He spent way too much money on some cosplay recreation of Dr. Grant's hat Sarah found on Etsy.

After scouring the internet and going on fan forums, Quinn found a local guy who had built a few replica jeeps. He also happened to be a huge Canucks fan, so when Quinn got in contact and told him who he was and what they were trying to do, the guy was eager to help and even offered to drive so drop them off at the party to make the scene a little more realistic.

Dane picked them up a block from their apartment. Thankfully, the sky was clear.

He was all in. He even had the hat and sunglasses the driver wore in the movie. His wife tagged along, sitting in the backseat with Quinn, and they chatted as they drove. He’d tried to pay them, but Dane had refused, saying it was an honor. He slipped Andi an envelope with some rental money and tickets to a home game anyway.

They were headed to a private event space a ways outside the city for the party, and Quinn had organized for everyone to be outside for their arrival. He’d invited some of the single guys to dress up as the dinosaurs they’d be awed at. Silovs jumped on it, not having much experience with Halloween, and eventually, Hoglander and Aman jumped in, too.

It wasn’t a whole herd of brontosaurus, but it was better than nothing. And Quinn felt better, making sure those guys felt included in a tradition they didn’t grow up with, especially at an activity that was generally so partner focused.

He’d asked Bella to film it. They were putting so much work into it, he wanted to have some sort of record. Plus, he knew his family would want to see it. His grandpa was the first person Quinn watched Jurassic Park with, and Quinn knew he’d especially enjoy it.

When they pulled up and everyone turned to look at them, Sarah felt an instant fit of giggles overtake her. Forcing herself to look at the large, plastic monstera leaf she was holding, she tried to hold it in.

Just like he asked, the guys dressed as dinosaurs were at the front of the crowd. All three of them wore different costumes. Hoglander was in a ridiculous fabric dilophosaurus costume, while Aman was in a dinosaur onesie. Silovs was in the inflatable T-Rex costume Quinn had sent them as an example. He wasn’t too surprised. It allowed him a certain amount of anonymity, which Quinn knew the shy goaltender appreciated.

He was worried he would look incredibly unnatural doing this whole thing, but found it actually came quite easily. It’s not like he was making a fool of himself on national television. These were his teammates.

The fact that he had a girlfriend nerdy enough to go in on this bit with him made it all that much easier. They were making fools of themselves together. While June would have done this with him, she would have taken it incredibly seriously and had a three person camera crew on location to get the best shots and reactions so she could post it on her socials.

When the Jeep came to a stop, and everyone looked over at them, Quinn threw off his hat and stood on the seat before shakily removing his sunglasses.

The whole team started to laugh, but he could tell most of them were impressed with their commitment to the bit.

Sarah was prattling on about the fauna in her hand, and he reached over to turn her head. Still trying not to laugh, she tore off her sunglasses and stood up, mouth agape.

They both scrambled out of the car, walking up to their small herd.

Quinn turned to her, the hand still holding his sunglasses waving, “It’s…It’s a dinosaur.”

“Uh hu,” Sarah agreed, barely holding herself together with everyone else laughing and cheering.

“Welcome — to Jurassic Park!” someone yelled in a very bad British accent.

Sarah lost her composure, laughter peeling out of her mouth in hearty guffaws.

Quinn turned back to thank Dane, who said it was a pleasure before he saluted and drove away.

“That was so good!” Meghan exclaimed, gathering Sarah into a hug. She was dressed as a beach-goer with a very realistic bite taken out of her arm. Conor was in a shark onesie. “I can’t believe you got Huggy to do that whole thing.”

“The arrival bit was actually his idea.”

“Really?”

Sarah nodded, “he’s secretly kind of a nerd.”

She laughed, knowing full well how much of a nerd he was. There was a reason he and Conor got along so well.

Walking into what Sarah knew must be a ballroom, she was a bit surprised at all the decor. The space was completely transformed. Decorated to look like a spooky forest, there was a fog machine and strobing lights and a bartender aptly dressed as a werewolf.

“How much did you guys pay for this?” she asked.

Quinn shrugged and pointed out the karaoke stage set up in the corner. “Will we get to hear you sing tonight?” he asked, slipping an arm around Sarah’s waist.

She let the subject drop. It wasn’t the way she’d spend her money, but she didn’t have the excess of it most people in this room did. “Maybe once I get a few drinks in me. I’m way too sober to make a fool of myself in front of your teammates.”

His eyes were alight with the memory of her singing in Nevada. She’d been good. Well, as good as someone tipsily singing Time of the Season can be. Mostly, it had been fun to see that looser side of her.

The party was fairly chill. An open bar with themed cocktails and lots of dancing. Once everyone was a bit more tipsy, thanks to the jello shots that were passed around, Conor started the karaoke with a horribly off-key rendition of Ghostbusters. Meghan went next singing, Look What You Made Me Do.

The rookies were encouraged (read: forced) up on stage to perform Everybody (Backstreets Back). Sarah felt bad for them. Most didn’t even speak English as a first language and were now being forced to sing an awful song from an outdated boyband she wasn’t sure any of them had even heard before.

A few more songs were sung as Sarah caught up with Bella. She and Brock were dressed as Fred and Daphne from Scooby Doo. It was an excellent fit for them. Bella looked killer in her little purple dress and white go-go boots, and the 70s style fit Brock better than Sarah would have previously thought. Then again, it was pretty difficult to make him look bad.

“What is this?” Bella asked when a hair metal guitar solo rang through the speakers.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Feed My Frankenstein by Alice Cooper.”

When Bella gave her a surprised look, Sarah explained, “my dad loved metal and shock rock. We used to sing it together all the time.”

The intro started again instead of continuing on and Sarah turned, wondering why no one was singing yet.

Quinn was standing right behind her, a shit eating grin on his face as he held out a microphone.

Her laugh rang through the karaoke speakers. Shaking her head, she backed up.

“Oh, come on, you know you want to,” Quinn encouraged, before starting to chant, “Sar-ah! Sar-ah!”

People immediately joined in.

“Oh, please?” Bella begged from beside her. “I wanna see you get your metal on!”

The alcohol singing in her veins transformed her trepidation into courage. Snatching the mic, she sauntered onto stage, feeling a kind of performance alter ego take root.

Slipping the mic into the stand, she said, “you owe me, Hughes.”

He laughed.

The intro started again, and she pulled out her ponytail, flipping her head upside down to shake out her hair. Someone wolf whistled.

She flipped her hair back up, grabbed the mic stand to pull the mic to her mouth, and yelled, “Feed my Frankenstein.”

Surprised, Quinn’s eyes blew wide. He knew Sarah loved karaoke. She’d told him, as had her best friend Beth. And he’d even seen it first hand in Nevada, but this was different.

Swinging her hair and hips grinding with the music, she didn’t sing so much as yell in tune. It was obviously a song she knew well. He’d known she would - Beth had sent him a list of some songs she knew Sarah wouldn’t be able to resist.

Pointing right at him and tilting her head in a sort of predatory way, she sang,

“Dude!” Conor yelled, clapping Quinn on the shoulder.

I'm a hungry man

But I don't want pizza

I'll blow down your house

And then I'm gonna eat ya

Bring you to a simmer

Right on time

Run my greasy fingers

Up your greasy spine

He was too stunned to respond. He’d heard the song before, from watching Wayne's World, but hearing the lyrics come out of her mouth gave them a whole different meaning.

Feed my Frankenstein

Meet my libido

“She's a psycho"

Not that he was complaining. It was incredible to see Sarah let loose like this.

Feed my Frankenstein

Hungry for love and it's feeding time

It was most surprising to him that her seemingly mild-mannered, engineer father liked music like this and had shared it with his daughter.

In the interlude, Sarah decided she might as well commit, and making her way off the stage, she walked right to Quinn. The crowd parted, all cheering. If she was going to do it, she was going to do it right.

Velcro candy, sticky sweet

Make my tattoos melt in the heat

Well, I ain't no veggie

Like my flesh on the bone

Alive and lickin' on your ice cream cone

She was glad to see a few people had their phones out. At least she’d be able to see just how much of an ass she was making of herself later.

“Yeah, Sarah!” someone yelled from her left, “show him who’s boss!”

That almost broke her, and she lost her composure for a moment, looking into Quinn's eyes and giggling. It was hard to want to seduce him while he still had that ridiculous hat on.

She growled that last bit into his ear as she tore off the hat and threw it into the crowd.

Meet my libido

“She's such a psycho"

He let out a surprised laugh and someone whooped.

Holding him by the front of the shirt, she pulled him with her as she got back on stage.

Feed my Frankenstein

Hungry for love and it's feeding time

Quinn went willingly, finding his heart pounding a little harder than he expected.

She finished the last riffs with a few last whips of her hair and lowered the mic.

Quinn turned her around, and she took a dramatic bow, laughing all the while. It wasn’t until he led her off the stage and the adrenaline rush of being in front of the crowd began to ebb away that she realized exactly what had just happened.

Resting her forehead on the front of Quinns shoulder, she moaned, “I can’t believe I just did that.”

He laughed, running his hand up and down her back, “I can’t really either. I had no idea you felt so passionately about Alice Cooper.”

She was blushing furiously as she pulled away, a playful glare on her face, “I’ll have you know I used to sing that song in front of my mirror when I was little. Twelve year old me thought it was very scandalous.”

Laughing, he leaned in to kiss her. “You did good.”

“Now you have to get up there,” she said.

“No.”

“Yes,” she argued.

“I paid my dues as a rookie. I’m never doing that again.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m lots of fun.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to the bar.

Quinns arms snuck around her waist and roughly pulled her against him, “do I need to remind you how much fun I am?”

“Uh-hu,” she said, twisting in his grip. He grinned and winked. “By singing some karaoke.”

His smile slipped, and he shook his head.

“Then,” she leaned in, “you can remind me of all the other ways you like to have fun on the way home.”

“I really don’t –”

Her mouth came dangerously close to his ear, “I’ll get you off on the Uber ride home if you do.”

Feeling suddenly breathless, he asked, “if I do - hypothetically -” he added, not quite ready to commit, “do I have to do it on my own?”

Knowing she was halfway to winning, Sarah smirked. “Of course not. I bet Brock would do it with you,” she said, stopping the tall blonde with a hand on his arm.

“Oh my god,” Bella squealed, bounding up to them. “Please, please, please? Brock said he won’t unless someone does it with him!”

Some kind of teammate telepathy was exchanged through a few raised eyebrows that ultimately ended with Quinn turning to the bartender, “can I get another shot?”

“Of what?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

They pushed a purple jello shot over the counter before tilting their head at the group of them. Sarah nodded, and they pulled out three more.

They all cheersed and shot back the slippery, sweet cocktails.

Smacking the shot glass back on the bar, Quinn grimaced. “Let's get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit!” Bella teased.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Sarah said, smacking Quinn’s butt as he followed Brock to the stage.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey romance #hockey fic #Spotify

158 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 13 days ago

Note

hiii can i have 1 ticket to the give em' a pumpkin to talk about starring luke castellan with popcorn and candy??

welcome to my nightmare

[STARRING: LUKE CASTELLAN x reader “Just forget you saw this happen.” “I’ve just never seen you this mad before.”] wc: 700+ a/n: no warnings this one's just dumb and goofy and inspired by sylus x mc's aether tie from LNDS if yall have ever played haha; title from the alice cooper song

monster mash-terlist

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

For the past week, you and Luke Castellan have been stuck at the hip. Well, kinda…and definitely not by choice.

“I swear to the gods, when I get my hands on you Castellan…”

“Sure, go ahead. Call on Nemesis again and maybe this time if I stay quiet, the goddess of retribution will keep me out of whatever stupid punishment you get next!” he spits, yanking at the invisible force that has your wrists linked together. You chew a guy out in the presence of a sacred temple once and now you’re stuck to him indefinitely. Perfect.

“We can’t go out like this,” you groan exasperatedly, “you’re messing with my game.” Luke’s eyes might roll to the back of his head if he tries any harder. Everything is always a game with you—and he’s about to lose it.

“You’re the only person I know that would pull the shit you do, y’know? He was being annoying,” Luke scoffs, remembering the barista who was trying to chat you up an hour earlier. He never thought he’d say this, but he absolutely cannot wait to get back to Camp Half-Blood. You stop in your tracks to protest, “He was being nice! And I was trying to score us a free lunch, but you had to be all macho, ‘Can’t you see she’s cuffed?’ CLEARLY NOT!” The invisible link between your wrists strengthens as you try to tug your arm away from him—the pull almost tightening around your skin as his arm follows the shape of yours with no dispute.

“He was too nice. There was something wrong with his face.”

Your eye twitches as you snort, “I’ve just never seen you this mad before, is all.” Luke stops short in front of you, turning suddenly and it makes your arm jerk towards him. Standing toe to toe, he looks down at you with an unreadable expression, grumbling, “I’m not mad.”

“Jealous, then.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I think it would be less painful to hack my arm off with a sword than be stuck to you,” he starts walking again, hoping that if you stop trying to start a fight you can make it back to camp by nightfall. It’s never that easy though— you start walking back towards the cafe, making his knees buckle at the force of the redirection, “Are you serious?”

“You won’t mind if I walk in there and get his number then?”

Luke’s bound hand catches yours so that the unfamiliar feeling in his stomach will settle. Actually, he does mind—and he thinks it wouldn’t be so bad to be stuck to you for the rest of eternity if it meant you don’t go back in there to get that guy’s number.

There’s an unspoken tension that reverberates through the both of you as you stand there in the parking lot and neither of you can find the words.

“Don’t.”

Luke’s voice is soft under the flickering streetlights, “Not without me,” and you could’ve sworn he was going to say something else, but he doesn’t.

“Not like I have a choice…” you start, and he bites his lip reluctantly—”Not like I would want to. Brighten up, Castellan. We still have to get home.” Your tone is less serious now, nudging your shoulder against his, and you’ve barely noticed he’s still holding your hand, or the fact that the pull between you two is less of a punishment and more of a surprising reward for this situation.

The gods do love a good joke.

Walking back into the cafe, you follow Luke towards the direction of the bathroom and he’s back in a goofy mood now that there’s an irrevocable understanding between you two. He pushes the door open slightly, smirking at you as you scan the area to see if anyone’s watching you follow him into the men’s bathroom. After a week of having no privacy due to your predicament, nothing is that awkward anymore.

“So…” he smirks, “You wanna hold it?”

You whack him across the chest. A glass clatters to the floor behind you and it’s the cute barista from earlier. Your face pales, “Just… forget you saw this happen.”

With Luke’s eyes meeting his, he tugs you in by the hand anyway.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ma1dita's monster mash is closed for requests but ongoing for the rest of october!

#ma1dita's monster mash 𓉸ྀི #made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

156 notes · View notes

astroboots · 10 months ago

Text

Kiss Me Again

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: You discover that Marc has a thing for lipstick

Content: Marc blushing -- Oh mai, domestic shenanigans, lotsa yearning, creampie, explicit sex babeh.

Credit: Inspired form Leslie's gorgeous Love Mark series and in particular this beautiful image. Part of the @moonknight-events Bingo scorecard Challenge: Morning After.

Word count: 3.5k

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMS’ MASTERLIST |MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

There is something about waking up in the morning to the sight of Marc standing in the kitchen.

The sight of that wide back turned to you. His firm shoulders fill out that t-shirt oh-so-perfectly, and you can make out the rounded curve of his bum practically bursting out of his jeans. The familiar rigid stiffness that is stitched into every nook and cranny of his frame while he's standing in front of the stove cooking you breakfast.

It's Sunday today, which means the familiar warm and breadlike smell of pancakes permeates the attic flat. It also means that Marc has let you sleep in.

God, what time is it?

Judging from the brightness of the sun, blinding your eyes, he must've let you sleep in late.

You glance at your wristwatch on the bedside table, squinting your eyes to make out the time.

Fuck! Eleven Twenty-Seven?!?!

You grumble, dragging yourself out of bed, grabbing the neatly folded clothes next to you and pulling them on haphazardly. "Why didn't you wake me? It's nearly noon."

Marc is unmoved by your accusatory tone. He flips the pan with a flashy move, flinging the pancake into the air before catching it with ease, right back into the pan.

"You were tired from last night."

He doesn't turn around, but you don’t need to catch the expression on his face when you can hear the playful smirk in his voice.

And he's not wrong. Marc did wear you out last night. The soreness between your thighs as you're making your way to him would prove as much. As does the state of the bed and its rumpled sheets.

You're practically hobbling your way to the kitchen when you finally manage to join him and perch yourself on a stool near the counter.

From the corner of your eye, Marc turns ever so slightly until you finally catch the amused wry quirk of his lips in person.

"What?"

He doesn't answer you. Just slides the pancake onto a plate, pouring in more batter into the pan, before he brings your plate over to you. Then he looks at you with that same amused expression.

"What is it?" you ask again. Have you suddenly grown horns on your head? Why is he looking at you like that.

Your confusion only adds to his amusement. A huff (that is borderline a laugh) escapes him as he looks at you with a fond expression.

"You're a mess."

Wow. Rude.

You shake your head, your boyfriend never was known for his manners... This boyfriend at least. Steven has the manners of an angelic saint.

Scanning the space, you spot your handbag that's conveniently sitting on the counter and reach for the small pocket mirror, flicking it open.

A deranged Alice Cooper impersonator looks back at you. Mascara running halfway down your face.

Shit.

Okay, Marc might have a point. Your hair looks like a runaway freight train blazed through it, mascara has run halfway down your face, and your lipstick is smeared all over, vivid red splotches and smears dotting your chin and cheeks. How did you even manage that?

You grab a wad of face wipes to take care of the worst of it. Then you glance back up at Marc. He is in considerably much better shape than you are. Hair combed back, already dressed in his regular t-shirt, with his grey jacket and fitted jeans like it's his designated uniform.

That's Marc for you. Unfazed. Un-rumpled. Untouchable.

Your Mr. Tidy, who needs everything to be in its proper place, no matter the time and place. It leaves you craving to achieve the unachievable, to make a mess of him.

Always put together. Always in control. Always has the upper hand on you.

Well… Your eyes drift to his honed cheeks and you can't help but grin at the sight. Almost always.

Today, there's a chink in his tidy armour. A red smear on his throat, matching the ones you just removed from your own face. Unsurprising perhaps, given the way you mauled this throat last night.

"You're a mess too," you counter.

He tilts his head questioningly, and you flip the mirror back at him to let him see the damage.

You expect him to frown. Expect him to grumble and reach for a wipe or scrub off the offending mess with the back of his hand.

Marc does none of that. Instead he freezes, eyes growing wide as he just stares into your pocket mirror.

You don't know how long he just stays like that, frozen in place, and you can practically see the little spinning wheel icon indicating that he brain has stalled out over this new input. It’s fascinating. You have half a mind to just leave him be, curious to see how long it takes his mind to reboot, but then you smell something off in the kitchen. Burnt, like smoke.

"Uhm, Marc? I think... the pancakes are burning."

That snaps him right out of it.

"Shit!"

He leaps into action. In a split of a second, Marc is back at the stove, yanking the offending pan off the heat. He seems a bit off kilter, grumbling to himself as he carries the whole thing to the bin and starts scraping the burnt remains of charcoal pancake off.

The whole scene takes you aback. You don't think you've ever seen Marc just freeze like that. What could have happened?

Was it the mirror? Mirrors serve as a neat conduit for communication between the boys. Perhaps Steven or Jake said something that distracted him?

You watch as he moves back to the sink without so much as a glance in your direction. Hoping for some insight you hop off the stool and walk up next to Marc, but he stiffens unexpectedly at your presence, ducking his face towards the sink, and avoiding your gaze.

Something is off with him. Something is definitely wrong... and--

You don’t see it at first. His head is tilted down, casting a shadow over his cheeks, but you think you see…

Wait wait wait. Is Marc... blushing?

You lean in closer, peering over his shoulder to stare at his face.

"This is distracting. I'm trying to clean," he mutters, tilting his face away from you.

Oh wow!

He is!

Marc is blushing!

Your veins buzz at the revelation. You're so excited by this new development, you don't even connect the dots at first.

He's blushing! Why is he blushing? God knows!

But it’s adorable! You need to know how to make this happen again.

Mirror. You need to get the mirror– Or wait, no. That doesn't make any sense does it? It's not the mirror that made him blush, why would it?

You retrace your step. Not the mirror, must've been something he saw in the mirror. It could have been something Steven or Jake said, but…

You think back to the night before. The way Marc’s dark eyes had gone darker, deep and bottomless, as he watched you get ready to go out. The way his eyes never left your face as you talked, always circling back to… your lips.

Excited to test your new theory, you leave Marc at the sink and head for the corner of the counter where you left your bag, fishing around until you can locate the tube of lipstick.

Yanking off the cap, you nearly end up mashing the red tip with how hard you press it on your lips. That done, you recap the tube and drop it back into the depths of your handbag, and rejoin Marc at the stove where he’s already poured another round of batter into the newly cleaned pan.

He's not looking up at you, eyes glued to the bubbling forming on the half-cooked pancake with strained concentration. But you bet you can change that now that you know what you know.

You tip-toe forward, reaching up to press your lips square centre on his cheek. You keep the contact soft and brief. Just enough pressure that you can make sure you've marked him in red with the shape of your lips.

Marc freezes again bound in shock. His eyes are so startlingly wide, for a moment you could almost mistake him for Steven.

Bingo.

You're grinning so widely it almost physically hurts. "Sorry, I think I got some lipstick on you."

He doesn't respond. If you didn't know better you'd think you'd turn him into stone with that small kiss. But you can see the way his fingers are wrapped so tight around the handle of the pan, the cast iron could crumble from the pressure.

Oh my, this is fun.

Leaning up you do it again. Pressing your lips to his cheek again, inches from where you had before, just as soft. Just as brief, and watch the red mark join the other one.

Marc tenses up all over again. Slowly but surely, you see that gorgeous crimson spread across his cheeks. It's a fascinating sight. And god, it makes you want to paint every inch of his skin in lipstick red, like a blank colouring book.

It takes him entirely too long before he gathers himself again. Eyes blinking rapidly like trying to wake himself from a drunken stupor, before shock is replaced by that familiar grumpy scowl.

"I'm–" he pauses to clear his throat, "I’m trying to make breakfast here."

"So do it," you respond cheekily, leaning in to kiss him again, "Don't let me stop you"

You keep pressing little kisses to his skin, leaving red lip prints all over and delighting in the fact that his face gets hotter with each one. More than a little bit smug to see the pink flush deepen and spread over his cheeks and down his throat.

For once, Marc-nothing-can-faze-me-Spector is struggling to keep his cool, and you are taking entirely too much joy in being the cause of that.

You reach up again, hands cupping his cheeks to tilt him to your mouth and press a kiss against his lips until they are stained bright lipstick red.

Marc remains still, but you can feel the frustration vibrating off the surface tension of his skin.

This time he lets go of the pan, and it clatters loudly back onto the stove.

You step back to the sight of that familiar irritated glare in his eyes even as he's blushing an unfamiliar bright barbie pink on his cheeks. His thumb hovering over his lipstick smeared bottom lip.

At first you think he's going to wipe it away. He doesn't. Instead his thumb just lingers over the mark, hand trembling slightly.

"Stop teasing," he grumbles.

It’s meant to be a warning, you’re sure, but all you feel is excitement of what's to come.

There's a saying isn't there? About not poking a bear with a stick. Except in that scenario it’s because you don't want to anger it and have it maul you, and in the present, that's exactly what you want from Marc.

You step in close again, tilting your face up to deliver another kiss.

All you can hear is a low growl, and then Marc is moving. His hand comes to the back of your neck and reels you into him, so close you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating from his cheek as if it were your own.

Then his lips are on yours, and joy and love surge through you, blending in a dizzying concoction that makes your surroundings spin.

You expect his kiss to be harsh and hungry, but Marc continues where you left off, pressing gentle, nearly chaste kisses to your lips over and over again.

It could almost be innocent if it weren't for the way he's panting against your lips. The way his strong arm wraps around your waist. The way his fingers dig into your hip as he drags your hips against his, crushing you against him until you can feel him—all of him, the length of him hot and hard against your stomach—even through his jeans.

His hand slides down over your hip to your thigh, one firm palm gripping and lifting to hook your leg over one side of his wide hips so he can grind against you. It's desperate and frenzied, the bulge of his cock slotting perfectly between your legs. Pressing forward until you’re so close that you can feel it jerking against you with each shuddering roll of his hips.

And through it all, he kisses and kisses and kisses you, gentle presses that grow just a little bit harder with each one. It sparks through your veins like an ember, heady and sweet until you think you could melt from it.

His lips drag against your own until finally, he parts them. The slight edge of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, like he wants to devour you whole.

And you'd let him. You’d let him bite in and swallow every morsel of you without resistance, but for some unfathomable reason, he… doesn't.

Instead he stills. Pulls back. Both of you gasping and shaking as you just look at each other.

He doesn't say anything. His gaze drops to your lips, his own parted and trembling.

You're just about to ask him what's wrong, when you realise that nothing is.

You've been together long enough now that you are finally starting to get the hang of hearing the things Marc leaves unspoken. Can read that hesitant look in his eyes and know what he’s thinking.

You know that in this moment all Marc wants is more. That’s what he doesn't know how to say.

Because Marc is still learning to ask for what he wants. And you know that the more he wants something, the less able he is to ask for it. (And the more you want to give it to him.)

And right now, the thing he wants more of is…

"Hang on a tic," you tell him, holding up a single finger. Your voice sounds throaty, but somehow miraculously calm despite the way your heartbeat is pounding in your ears. You reach behind you, scooping up your discarded handbag and plucking your lipstick from it as easy as you please. The small round tube nearly falls into your hand like it's guided by divine inspiration.

Marc's hands tremble on your hips, fingers gripping tight, tighter, tightest until it's almost painful. Somehow that only makes it better.

How many people on this earth can say that they've managed to make Marc Spector tremble?

Somehow your hands are still rock steady. Uncapping the lipstick, you feel his cock jerk hard against your thigh once, and then again as you twist the tube and begin to slick the bright stoplight red onto your lips.

You don't have a mirror. Don't need one. Don’t even have to look to know this is the cleanest application you'll ever manage, for all that your lips were already smeared to hell when you started. Your lipstick is perfect. You can tell by the way Marc is looking at your mouth. Staring at your mouth. Staring at you, like you're a goddess come to life. Every desperate desire he's ever had made flesh, made divine.

Marc Spector makes you feel divine.

Twisting the lipstick back down, you recap it, barely managing to tuck it away in your bag with hands that are just beginning to shake. Then you reach for him.

Framing his face with trembling hands, you lean forward to press a single, perfect kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"There we go," you manage, before the need for him rises up to swallow you whole and your voice goes ragged, unspooling at the edges.

"Now, Marc. Please, now."

You don't need to say more than that. You watch the muscle in his jaw jump as he grits his teeth.

The ground beneath your feet vanishes in an instant, all you feel is Marc's arms wrapped around your waist as he hoists you up against the nearest kitchen counter. Firm, thick thighs framed against your sides as he presses you down against the hard surface. All you hear is the fumbling and swearing as he struggles to get his tight jeans undone and pushed down because his usually-rock-steady hands are trembling.

You’ve never seen him like this. All of him is shaking, every muscle in his body straining, so worked up he's practically vibrating with need. And you feel it too, his desperation seeping into you like a contagion, until you can barely breathe. Until you feel sick with want for him.

You reach down to help him with his fly, the material of his jeans sticky against your fingers, his cock jerking under the fabric at your touch.

"Fuck. Baby," his voice is a raw and ragged thing, dragging in his throat like the air from his lungs has been wrenched from him.

Everything inside you tingles with excitement at his tone. It doesn't matter that you're still sore from last night. That your legs are still wobbly from the pure physical exertion of it. All you want is more. More of this. More of Marc.

Clumsily, you get his zipper down and reach inside. He's hot and hard, the skin velvety smooth and slick, his cock jerking under your touch as you free him.

He shoves a hand between your legs in return, drags the soaked crotch of your knickers to the side, and unceremoniously slides two fingers into you, filling you so perfectly that you gasp at the sensation.

Heat spears through you, your hips bucking forward so hard you nearly fall off the counter, but he's there to hold you down with his weight.

His hips pressing forward. His hand pulls back, knocking yours out of the way so he can grab himself. Line himself up. The slick, fat head of his cock pressing against you.

It's hurried and frantic. Your head spins from the blood rushing through your head so fast your vision blurs.

Then Marc presses inside.

His cock is hot. Slipping into you like a fiery brand. Like the missing heart of you coming home. Burning you from the inside out. You both moan, gasping into each other's mouths.

When did you start kissing again?

You don't know. Why did you even stop? You never want to stop.

You can't move. Can’t think. Can't fucking breathe, but it's okay. You don't need to. Don't need anything except this. His cock pressing into you. Lodging itself inside you until it's as deep as it's possible to go.

You gasp again, and your head falls back, breaking the kiss as pleasure spears though you, sharp and blindingly sweet. It’s too much. It’s perfect.

Marc says something as his hips retreat, but you don’t register what it is, barely realise that he’s spoken.

You don’t register he's talking to you, asking you for something, until he stops moving. You whine, clawing at his shoulders because whatever he wants, the answer is, 'yes.'

"Again," he repeats, and yes, that’s what you want. You want him to fuck you again, but he’s not doing it. Why did he stop?

"Baby," he says, the word scraping its way out of his throat like it's made of broken glass, "Kiss me again."

Oh.

It doesn’t register with you then—not really—the significance of his ask. How unusual it is that Marc is asking you for something that he desperately wants. You’ll remember later. Notice later. But for right now, it doesn't matter, because you want to give him what he wants regardless. You always want to give this man anything and everything he wants.

You lunge forward, his stubble scraping against your lips as you glance off his chin leaving a red smear.

Hot pleasure blooms as he thrusts forward into you.

"Again," he says.

You whine as he pulls back, but you're quicker on the uptake this time. Kissing his throat and get to watch his Adam's apple bob under the red lip print you leave behind, before your vision goes fuzzy with the next overwhelming thrust.

"Again."

You kiss his jaw, and he barely pauses before fucking back into you.

"Again."

His throat, again. and you're rewarded with the hot perfect press of him inside.

"Again."

Everything starts to blur. His words slurring together; your lips barely leaving his skin. The heavy weight of him pushing its way inside you.

You're panting open mouthed against his shoulder, lips sliding and sticking against his skin.

"Again," he demands, even though there's no longer any lull in your movements,

"Again." No break in contact of your lips on his skin.

"Again." No pause in his rhythm.

"Again." No respite from the way the feeling swells. Coils tight, right where his cock is pounding, relentless, into the very centre of you.

"Again."

You can't–

"Again."

Oh god, you’re about to–

"Again. Again. Aga–ngh"

The litany breaks off, words dying, replaced by a strangled groan, when you come hard, your body clamping down, clenching around him.

Through the waves of overwhelming pleasure, you feel the sting of his blunt fingernails digging in too hard at your hips. Hear the tiny, ragged "Oh. Baby. Fuck." that leaves his lips like it's been punched out of him.

You swear you can feel the heavy weight of him swell inside your still-clenching cunt, and then the reflexive, aborted jerk of his hips, as his cock begins to pulse.

He holds you there, tight against him, or maybe you hold him or both of you hold each other, as you shudder there together for long, endless moments.

When it's finally over, he presses one last, gentle kiss to your lips and pulls back.

You watch, heart so full of love for him that your chest aches, as one side of his red-smeared mouth pulls up in a rare, happy smile. You trace the corner of it with one mostly-steady finger, and can't help smiling back.

“Well now," you say, once you're certain your voice won't betray you too badly, "I've made quite the mess of you, haven't I?"

Marc's eyes roam over your face. One warm hand comes up to cup your jaw, and you lean into his touch, letting him drag his thumb over your lips. You can feel it sticking slightly on whatever's left of your lipstick, but what does it matter? It's not like he can make it any worse now, is it?

"Yeah," he says. His thumb lingers. His gaze too. Eyes gone soft and warm the longer he looks at your mouth. "Your mess."

Something constricts in your chest at the words. A deep-rooted, possessive protectiveness that takes hold, then unfurls, spreading everywhere, warm and sweet.

"Yes," you agree, tightening your arms around his back to pull him closer to you. "All mine."

A/N a sequel to the angsty Love Bites where Marc gets his yearning fulfilled. @thirstworldproblemss and I wrote this ages ago before Christmas but then we felt that there needed to be more ✨ yeaaaaarning✨ Hope you had fun reading.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#oscar isaac #moon knight #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #marc spector #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you

680 notes · View notes

lipglossanon · 1 year ago

Text

Because

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

puppy!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

Shoutout to all of those who gave me the inspo! There are many anons and mutuals; the few I can remember are 🐶 anon, @rusty-phasma, and 🪷 anon

big kisses to everyone not listed as well; you guys are all amazing and thank you for encouraging me! 😭 💜

Warnings: 18+, puppy!leon, hybrid!leon, pet/owner dynamics, eager Leon, switch Leon, kissing, licking, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), collar and leash play, mounting, knotting, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, reader says no but doesn’t really mean it so slight noncon if that’s triggering

Not proofread ✍️

Title from Because by Alice Cooper (cover of the original Beatles version)

☆───── ⋆⋅🐾⋅⋆ ─────☆

“He’s so cute!”

“Oh, he’s just adorable.”

“What’s his name?”

You let the chatter of strangers disappear into the background when bypassing the mall’s pet shop window as you walk to the parking garage.

“Thinking about adopting him?”

High pitched laughter, “With those list of issues, no way!”

“Thought you said he was cute!”

“He is, just not that cute.”

Frowning to yourself, you turn to see what new addition they added to the storefront to garner so much attention.

Oh.

He is cute.

You glare at the retreating backs of the group of people laughing and giggling as they walk away from the window. You step closer, now that you’re able, and just watch the hybrid as he tinkers with something in his hands. He looks really sweet, blue eyes almost shielded by his sandy blonde fringe.

You step a little closer and he tilts his head to the side before raising it all the way to look up at you. He smiles, floppy ears perking up on his head as his tail wags. Internally, you’re yelling at yourself not to do it, but you find yourself looking down at the little page of information taped to the glass.

“Leon, huh?” you murmur, eyes glancing over at him before going back to the paper.

You can understand why they were snickering to themselves; he’s never had an owner and looks like there’s still a lot of room for improvement since he’s not fully house broken yet. Your eyes skim through the rest, but it’s just height, weight, etc.

Turning back to him, you see that he has moved closer to the glass, eyes watching you excitedly.

“Leon,” you mouth at him and he nods, stepping up to the window and placing his hands on it.

Sighing to yourself, you hope you don’t regret this later, you place your hand on the glass with him repeating the gesture.

You smile at him and his tail wags back and forth so fast it’s almost a blur.

“Hi.”

You adopt Leon on the spot, probably the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done in your life. The clerk helps you with all of the paperwork, happy the hybrid wouldn’t be stuck here too long. He informs you of the do’s and don’ts of hybrid care, giving you a folder full of information as well as a little duffle of items.

“He’s excitable so you’ll have some issues with him trying to run off. I’d keep him leashed til you get home,” the clerk hands you a leash, leading you to the back where Leon was taken as you filled out the application.

“Hi,” his smile makes one appear on your face.

“Hi, Leon, you’re coming home with me today.”

He dashes across the room startling you as he pulls you into a bear hug.

“I’m so lucky, you’re so pretty and smell so good, and—“

“Leon,” the clerk’s firm voice cuts him off, quickly slipping a collar on his neck.

Leon’s ears droop and he scuffs the floor with his shoe, “Sorry miss.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur where the clerk can’t hear, “I know you’re just happy.”

His ears perk up and tail starts to wag, “Yeah, yeah I really am.”

Leon bares his neck to you for you to snap the leash clip on his collar. He preens as you lead him out of the store and through the mall. Luckily you were headed home to begin with, so taking Leon straight there isn’t an issue. He behaves the entire drive home much to your relief, a little worried about what the clerk meant by excitable.

You find yourself falling into an easy pattern with Leon; he’s a fast learner, so he adapted to your routine pretty quickly. The housebroken issue resolved itself (he just never lived with anyone before so they had to say that on the form). He enjoys having his own separate room and loves taking baths.

Leon even helps with chores around the house so by the time you’re home from work, you can cook a light meal for the two of you and relax on the couch. He always waits for you by the door, eagerly pressing against you and licking your neck and face in greeting.

Today’s routine jars you when coming home, there isn’t a happy Leon waiting at the door. Frowning to yourself, you kick off your shoes and drop your bag on the counter.

“Leon?” you call out.

Walking further into the house, you pass by your half closed door and hear whining. You pause and peek past the door frame, surprise making your eyes wide.

Discarded knotting toys from the pet shop lay scattered all over the floor— obviously used recently as they’re all dripping with jizz. Looking over you can see Leon completely naked on the bed, buried in a pile of your clothes as he ruts into a toy. He looks fucked out already, hazy eyed and tongue lolled out, panting.

“Leon,” you murmur, stepping inside the room.

“Miss owner,” he whines, tail thumping against the bed, tears making his blue eyes seem bigger, “‘m sorry for making a mess. Hurts.”

Your heart beats fast as you take in his pitiful face.

“It’s okay, it looks like a rut or heat of some kind,” you keep your voice soft, stepping up to the bed to ruffle his ears.

He whines again, pressing up into your touches as hips keep humping into his toy, before looking at you with big eyes, “Oh no, oh I’m—“

He growls and you watch as his cock knots the toy, cum bubbling out of the sleeve until it’s spilling down the sides and coating your shirts and panties underneath.

“Leon,” you watch dumbfounded as he ruts down, smearing the cum across your underwear specifically.

“Smell so good, miss,” he moans, dilated eyes staring at the hem of your skirt, “makes me wanna—”

“No, Leon,” your voice is firm, “the toys are okay, but you can’t be… doing this every time, okay? This is my bed and clothes and it’s just inappropriate.”

He whimpers, head ducking down as he shrinks in on himself.

Your hand hesitates but you softly brush his fuzzy ears, “Hey, I’m not mad, Leon. We just need to learn boundaries, okay? This is a very,” you pause trying to think of a way to say it.

“Personal moment,” you gently move his head to look up at you, “I don’t want you to feel bad for something natural.”

“Not mad?” he sniffles, tail sluggishly wagging.

You smile and pet him more, “Not mad, baby. You’re such a good boy for me.”

He smiles through his tears, “Love being your good boy, miss.”

Your eyes drop to the mess covering your sheets and he flushes hotly.

“I’m gonna clean it up, just,” he trails off embarrassed, “I have to wait for my knot to go down.”

“That’s okay,” you stroke his ears one last time and step back, walking to the door, “I’ll go make dinner, just clean up and meet me at the table.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs, tail beating against the bed.

A week goes by and there isn’t another incident, although you’re sure you’re missing some clothing items but you can’t for the life of you figure out what.

Leon’s whines and whimpers can be heard throughout the house late at night, disrupting your sleep but you don’t have the heart to tell him to stop. He’s already mentioned how painful it can be if he goes too long without any relief.

After endless google and Reddit searches, you’re at your wits end on how to help. The answers are all over the place but all agree that the toys are a temporary fix. You stumble across a thread run by hybrids themselves with much more informative and helpful answers. You bite the bullet and post your question to the page under a throwaway account. In no time at all, you have dozens then hundreds of replies.

Aside from the silly joke or meme answers, you get a lot of information, all of it basically saying you should offer your hybrid help with his rut. A simple handjob can stave off urges for weeks at a time. You bite your thumb nail as you read the more steamy answers, feeling a pulse of arousal throb in your clit at picturing Leon in such a way.

You hold off but by the end of the second week of Leon looking miserable, you finally cave and offer to help him (your own bubbling arousal and curiosity peaking). His eyes light up and you gesture for him to sit down on the couch.

“Only my hand, Leon. And if you misbehave then you’re going to be sent to your room.”

“Promise I’ll be a good boy,” he nods so hard one of his ears flip backwards making you giggle.

He smiles at you and licks your cheek, “So pretty, miss owner.”

“Leon,” you roll your eyes feeling shy, “sit next to me so I can help you.”

He quickly undresses and sits down, thigh pressing against yours, legs easily falling open as his cock bobs and leaks everywhere.

Whining, he nuzzles into your shoulder, “s’this okay?”

You hum, “Yeah, you’re okay, Leon.”

Your hand reaches out and grasps his hot throbbing dick, making him arch up with a sigh. Biting your lip, you try to ignore how much you’re getting turned on from this.

“Thank you,” he mouths at your skin, “thank you so much, promise to be so good for you.”

You suppress the shiver those words give you and slowly stroke along his thick cock.

“You’re really big,” you mutter out loud before thinking twice.

He groans, “That’s good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you laugh softly, “it’s very good, means you’ll feel good inside someone.”

His cock kicks in your hand, globs of precum dripping from the tip to coat your fingers. You lick your lips and tease across his fat tip, coaxing more precum to dribble out.

He pants and whines into your shoulder as you tease him, dragging out your quick handjob into something that edges him for hours.

He’s slurring and whining against you, shoulder and neck soaked with his spit as he laps and licks at the skin he can reach.

“Miss owner, I wanna cum, I’ve been such a good boy,” he whimpers, “wanna knot your hand, please. You said I could.”

“Not yet,” you’re so turned out, your panties are wet and sticky with slick, “wanna see how long you can last.”

He growls and whimpers but lets you keep teasing his cock, playing with the head before feathering your fingers across his balls and knot.

You watch as tears drip down his cheeks when he clenches his eyes shut. Feeling a little bad for him, you pick up your pace and jerk him off, getting a little rougher in your movement.

“Oh, oh, that’s so good,” he mumbles, “gonna knot you, gonna knot my sweet owner.”

Your thighs clench together trying to alleviate the want building in your core. He growls and grunts as he pushes up into your fist, knot bumping against your fingers as it gets bigger.

Snarling against your shoulder, he humps the tight tunnel of your fingers until sticky cum spurts from his tip, coating your hand as it drips down onto his knot and sac.

“Good boy, Leon,” you keep your voice warm and soft, “you did so good for me.”

He keens in the back of his throat and nuzzles your spit covered skin.

“Thank you, I feel better,” he sighs happily, ears drooping as he yawns, “gonna take a bath.”

“Okay,” you reply as he shuffles to his feet and makes his way to the bathroom.

You listen for the door to click before you bring your hand up to your mouth. Just pure curiosity is what you tell yourself as you press two cum covered fingers into your mouth. A moan slips past your lips as Leon’s salty flavor coats your tongue.

Your phone buzzing jolts you from your illicit deed, arousal and shame warring in your chest as you quickly head to the sink to wash your hands. You look into your own eyes through the mirror; you were just curious that’s all, you project to yourself.

100% nosey curiosity.

So what if you got even wetter at tasting Leon’s thick cum.

Now that you know what it’s like in your mouth, you’ll never have to think about it again.

Totally not a big deal.

Period.

Hours later as you lay in bed, glaring at your watch face reading 2:37am, that little voice of doubt chimes in that maybe it was a big deal after all.

You muffle a groan into your pillow, tossing and turning until you can find a comfortable spot. That Reddit page said you could offer a lot more than just your hand.. is the last thought you have before you finally succumb to the sweet embrace of sleep.

The next morning Leon is rousing you much too early for four hours of sleep.

“But you said we could go to the park today,” he pouts, his blue eyes pleading.

“I did, didn’t I?” you sigh to yourself, scrubbing a hand over your sleep filled eyes, “alright, I’m up.”

“Thank you,” he jumps onto the bed, tongue lapping at your cheek making you giggle.

“Leon!” you laugh harder as he crawls completely on top of you, pinning you down to lick across your jaw and ear.

“Thank you so, so much,” he hums against you, mouth panting as he licks across the seam of your lips.

“Leon, don’t—“

Your words are drowned out as he licks into your mouth, sloppy puppy spit dripping all down your lips and chin. Whining, you try to push him off but he has your arms pressed down into the blankets.

He hums louder, tongue now slowly lapping into your mouth making you squirm underneath him. Moaning, you go limp as his tongue flutters against yours, drooling all in your mouth so much you swallow it down before you choke. He takes it as a sign you like it, making sure to drip even more puppy spit into your mouth.

Your nipples tingle as he deepens the sloppy make out, Leon rocking his hips down onto you as he keeps up the slow motion of pressing his tongue in and out of your mouth. When you shift your thighs, you can feel how your wet panties cling to your cunt.

Moaning, you start to suck on Leon’s thick tongue, crossing that imaginary line you drew for yourself. You want this so why not let yourself have it? Leon notices the change and excitedly presses his mouth closer, now using his lips to messily kiss you instead of just licking into your mouth.

At some point, Leon shifts enough for you to move your arms, but you only bring them up to tangle in his hair—being mindful of his soft ears. You sigh and mewl as he gets more aggressive, teeth nipping your lips before fucking his tongue roughly into your mouth. After deep, sloppy, spit filled kisses, Leon finally pulls away.

“God, you smell so good,” he pants and chuffs against your neck.

“W-what,” you clear your throat, feeling all out of sorts, “what about the park?”

“Can we still go?” his ears perk up, making you chuckle.

“Yeah, but I need to get dressed.”

“Will you wear that pretty dress?” Leon leans up to look at you bashfully.

You squint up at him, a confused smile on your face, “Sure, I guess. If the weather is nice enough.”

His tail wags, “It is! I’m gonna go get my collar.”

He scrambles off the bed and beelines it for his room, leaving your door open. You sigh and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, feeling like you should take a cold shower.

Lugging yourself out of bed, you grab your change of clothes and head into the en suite bathroom. You finish your ablutions and change—shooting yourself a thumbs up in the mirror as you leave the bathroom.

Stepping back into your room, Leon’s already crowding you, collar on as he presses the clipped leash into your hand.

“You’re so pretty,” he gives you a wide smile, blue eyes gazing down to your dress hem, “smell so good.”

He drops down onto his knees and presses his face under your dress, burying his nose against your panty clad pussy.

“Leon!” you gasp, hand tangling in the leash and pulling, but he rears against the pressure, tongue lapping at the thin lace gusset of your panties.

You pull harder and he groans, bringing his palms up to press on your hips, sending you stumbling back against the wall. He quickly shifts with your body, nosing your thighs before sloppily licking against your cunt.

You shakily pull up the edge of your dress until you can see Leon’s face. His dilated eyes flicker up to yours, hair ruffled and messy, ears twitching.

“Leon,” you whimper, feeling his teeth tug and nip the fabric until he’s able to rip a hole into it.

His tongue slips into the tear, making it larger until you’re basically wearing crotch less panties. Tugging on the leash just makes him grunt and moan into your pussy, tongue licking up the slick dripping from your hole.

“Fuck,” you rock your hips making Leon growl, tail wagging behind him as his tongue flutters in your clenching hole.

He moves up, tongue dragging through your pussy lips to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves til you’re whimpering.

“G-good boy, Leon, right there, oh god,” you grind your sensitive bundle against his mouth as he suckles it between his lips.

He whines and teases your pudgy clit with his lips and tongue as you yank his leash to keep his face right where you want. He pants and moans, moving his mouth against your pussy, tongue fluttering in and out of your hole.

You tighten the pull on his leash and ride his face with a moan. You can hear how wet you are from the messy sounds of Leon’s mouth. He moves back up to lap and suck at your clit, tail thumping against the floor as he groans against the sensitive bud like he can’t get enough of your taste.

He finally pulls away with a huff, mouth swollen and shiny with slick. Before you can say anything, he’s standing up so fast you lose grip on the leash and he’s shoving you over the edge of the bed and flipping your dress up. Your panties are ripped in half and you feel his thick cock pressing into your hole.

“Leon,” you try to raise up but he snarls and boxes you in, sinking his cock into you fast and deep.

You wail and thrash as he grunts, rocking his dick deep into your soaked pussy until the tip grinds against the opening to your womb.

Clenching and moaning, tears bead your water line, “S’too much.”

He licks the shell of your ear making you shiver, pulling halfway out of your pulsing walls to fuck back into your cunt.

“Been wanting to knot your pussy for ages,” he whines, the sound of skin slapping together making you clench against his dick.

“So naughty, letting me fuck your hand, cumming all over you, letting other pups know you’re all mine,” he mouths and lick all over the back of your neck and across your shoulders.

“Just wanted t’help,” you mumble, feeling your pussy throb as he bullies his cock against your g-spot, bottoming out on every thrust.

“Mm but you are helping now, miss owner,” Leon chuffs the back of your head, hips flexing as he ruts his dick into your greedy cunt, “sweet pussy all wet and willing for my puppy knot.”

You clamp down hard on his thick cock with a loud whine, “Oh, f-fuck.”

He picks up on that instantly and growls low, “Like my puppy knot? Wanna feel it lock me inside your tight wet hole?”

Hot arousal curls in your abdomen, clit throbbing at the thought of Leon knotting you.

“Leon,” you mewl, fingers twisting in your sheets, cunt squelching loudly around his dick as you get even more wet and tight.

“That’s it, miss owner,” he rumbles low in his chest, sloppily licking your shoulders, “get that pussy nice and slick for my knot.”

You’re coated in puppy spit and precum at this point, nipples hard and pointed as Leon drags you back onto his cock.

“Gotta show you how good of a mate I can be,” he nips at your neck, “show you I can fill you up how you need, give you lots of pups.”

“Leon,” you whine as he bullies into your soaking wet hole over and over, “n-no pups, you gotta pull out.”

“But I gotta give you my knot,” he licks across your shoulder blade, “gotta breed your pussy deep.”

Shuddering, your arms give out, forcing your back into a deeper arch allowing Leon to fuck your pussy harder.

“Gonna make you my bitch,” he growls into your ear, drooling all over your neck, “gonna mount you whenever I want, knot you so good you’ll beg for it.”

Hearing him call you a bitch in that low growl makes you press back harder into his thrusts, pussy squeezing his cock like crazy.

“Leon,” you drag out his name with a moaning pant, “we can’t.”

“Why? Tell me one good reason why and I’ll stop, miss owner.”

“Cause,” your mind’s foggy with arousal, “cause…”

You shiver as he ruts deeper into your slick pussy, bullying that spongy spot in your cunt that makes you clench on him repeatedly.

“Why?” he licks your ear, “cause you like it too much? Don’t want my dripping puppy cock filling you up? Giving you a thick creampie to make you feel nice and full.”

“Yes,” you moan, “I shouldn’t—“

“Miss owner, just let me do it one time, just so we both can see how it feels,” his voice is sweet making your thoughts syrup thick, “just let my fat puppy cock knot you one time.”

You shudder, pussy pulsing and fluttering around him as slick leaks down your thighs, “Just once?”

He growls in satisfaction, “Yeah, just once. Promise.”

You both know as soon as he knots you, you’re going to like it too much to stop. It’s why he laughs into your shoulder making you moan.

“Can’t wait to empty my balls in your fat pussy,” he grunts.

You wail as his tip knocks against your cervix roughly.

“Love the way you sound,” he nips your neck, “love the way you smell, love how sweet you taste,” his voice dips into a deeper octave, “love how your hot pussy grips me so fucking tight. She’s really working for that puppy knot, huh?”

Drooling into the sheets, you whimper in reply, walls fluttering and clenching around his thick cock. The way he’s thrusting into your hole grinds your clit against the bedspread, orgasm steadily building higher and higher to its peak.

“G’nna cum,” you slur out, toes curling as your hips shake, “gonna cum, fuck, Leon!”

You bury your face in the sheets as you cry out, cunt pulsing and milking his cock as he keeps railing you into the bed.

“Yes, yes,” he snaps his teeth over your shoulder, “feels so good, gonna make me pop my knot early, fuck, take it, take it, miss owner, take my fucking cock.”

You keen pitifully as he bares down over your body, pressing his knot past the wet, clenching hole of your pussy with a low howl. Feeling his knot seal you together, your cunt clamps down around him tightly squeezing around his cock and knot.

“Mmm so perfect,” he huffs against your ear, “doesn’t that feel so good? So warm and sticky inside? So much puppy cum filling you up.”

You mewl pitifully as he rocks against you, cock grinding all against the spongy spot in the front of your cunt making a second orgasm wash weakly through you.

“Can knot you all day, miss owner,” he kisses the side of your cheek, “instead of going to the park,” he licks the corner of your mouth, “can I? Promise it’ll feel so good.”

You turn your head to suck his tongue into your mouth. He moans and eagerly licks into your open mouth.

“S’fine, Leon,” you pull away with a sigh as he grinds your clit against the bedspread, “this’ll help, right?”

His tail wags happily, “Uh huh, help me out so much. S’okay to knot you again and again right? As much as I need?”

Brain feeling like thick syrup from the best orgasm of your life, you nod, “As much as you need.”

#lipglossanon #puppy!leon s kennedy #puppy!leon kennedy #puppy!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #puppy!leon s kennedy smut #puppy!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #fem!reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #lipglossmasterlist #hybrid!leon s kennedy #hybrid leon kennedy #hybrid au

1K notes · View notes