#all I know is that I just want to hold him and cradle him in my arms because he's my baby

[peachesofteal]

I like to think about Kyle being the smartest one in the room sometimes. And I love to think about Kyle being the smartest one in the pub the night he meets you. Loud and laughing perched on a stool with a third vodka in your hand. You sit above the crowd, looking down.

He manages to intercept one of your friends on their way to the toilet, casually asking them what're they're celebrating tonight.

"Oh, the professor just got published. Again. We drag her out every time." 

It turns out you're a phd. Computer science and systems. Not his favorite, but he'll bite. He knows more than enough. And you, pretty thing, think you know it all. You're an asp, full of venom, coiling for a strike. Arrogant, cold. Buttoned up and sneering. You're smart, and you know it. You're smart, and you could shut anyone in this whole place down.

Anyone but him.

So, it starts with the wager.

"You'll ask me a question, and if I get it right, you'll drink. If I'm wrong, I'll drink." Your circle of friends oooh, and your lips press into a firm, unimpressed line.

When he gets the first one, you scoff.

"That was easy." 

"So, try harder. Are you really an expert in the field?" He's taunting you, but there's a pin prick of heat in your eyes, something telling him you like it, like this. The shade of embarrassment, the quick strike of embarrassment.

The second gets off just as well. You ask. He answers. You drink.

Again, and again, until you're vibrating with frustration. Until your friends have dispersed to different corners, different amusements.

"You think you're so smart."  You hiss, and he chuckles in a condescending way that makes your eyes widen, indignant.

But-

for a split second, it slips. Everything falls to the wayside and he finds what he knew was there all along.

I see you.

He digs deeper. Pushes you farther. Fans the flames.

"No, love. You think you're so smart. But we both know you've got a lot to learn, hm?" 

Later, when he has you underneath him in your bed, your legs pushed back, thighs framing your cunt like the prettiest picture he's ever seen, he leans over your body and grazes your cheek with his lips.

"Tell me, pretty." His thrusts are punishing, pushing you up the bed into where he's using the headboard as leverage. You want to come. You want to come so badly, the snake is back, gaze so full of rage he's surprised it's not red.

"Stop, either make me come or get-"

"No baby. You're not making the rules here. You're not smart enough, isn't that right?" He punches forward and you keen, curling up into his chest. He cradles your head close, kissing your ear. "Can't make the rules if you don't even know what's best." He's breaking you down, brick by brick, dismantling each and every layer until he finds the person tucked away in the rubble, the soft, scared girl in the center of it all.

When he makes you come, you cry, and he wipes those big fat tears with his tongue.

Afterwards, he tugs you close, holding your wrists together, holding you still. Trapped. "I'll make the rules now professor,” he murmurs gently, “I'll decide what's best."

[sturnioz]

How would fb!chris react if he accidentally hurt shy!reader? (Maybe burns her with a lighter or something?)

And how would shy!reader react if she accidentally hurt fb!chris (maybe she nut taps him somehow? Idk)

NUT TAP LMAO

── ♯; fratboy!chris accidentally hurting shy!reader.

chris isn't quite sure how it happens. all he remembers is mindlessly flicking his lighter on and off while scrolling through his phone, and suddenly, a sharp, painful yelp pierces the air. he turns to see you, your eyes welling with fat tears, cradling yur arm against your chest, your bottom lip wobbling.

"what?" he snaps, confused and irritated. "what happened? what did you do?"

"you burnt me!" you wail, your voice thick with tears, hiccupping between each word. chris' first reaction is one of offense; how could you blame him for something like that?

he opens his mouth to retort, but his words catch in his throat when he sees the angry blister forming on the skin of your arm.

"shit," he murmurs, dropping the lighter onto the bedside table to reach for your arm, but you flinch way, refusing to let him as you pull back, and that causes him to grunt. "let me see it. i need to see it, kid."

after some hesitancy, you extend your arm, and he takes hold of it, pulling it closer to inspect the skin, and a grimace settles on his face at the sight of it.

"shiiit... you — y'know i didn't mean that, right? wouldn't hurt you on purpose, like, you know that yeah?" chris glances up, meeting your tearful eyes, seeking some sort of reassurance. but something shifts, and he continues. "you — you shouldn't have been fuckin' messin' around beside me anyway 'cos i didn't even have the lighter close to you—"

"chris," you cut him off, sniffling, clearly not wanting to be blamed right now. in that moment, he realises what he's doing and he bites down hard on his cheek, wrestling with his emotions.

"right. right, yeah," chris coughs, trying to mask his discomfort. "i.. m'sorry, bun. okay? didn't.. didn't mean it. i wasn't payin' attention."

you sniffle again and nod, seemingly accepting his apology. chris nods along with you before he slips out of the bed, scratching the back of his neck as he disappears into the bathroom, heart racing a bit.

a few seconds later, he returns with a first-aid kit in hand, the plastic clattering softly against his thigh when he sits back down opposite you, and he notices the confusion on your tear-streaked faced.

"burnt myself a few times. know what m'doin', alright? gonna.. gonna need you t'be brave, 'kay kid?"

you remain silent, save for the occasional hiccup and sniffle, as he opens the kit and pulls out a few antiseptic wipes and a roll of gauze. he rips open the packet with a quick motion, glancing up to meet your eyes for a split second.

"might sting.." he warns you. "but uh.. but it'll help."

as he gently dabs the wipe on your burn, you flinch in pain, a small whimper escaping your lips. chris grits his teeth, tightening his grip around the wipe, scrunching his nose in concentration as he carefully applies the gauze afterward.

"there we go," chris murmurs, finally securing the gauze in place. "just keepin' it clean. need to keep it clean." he meets your gaze again, scratching his cheek awkwardly as he adds. "y'did good, bun.. uh, brave. yeah."

── ♯; shy!reader accidentally hurting fratboy!chris.

you had got a bit overly excited.

you have been waiting for your results on your latest assignment for days, chewing the skin around your thumb, your nerves a mess as you repeatedly check your emails, waiting for the response from your professor.

then, it finally arrives — that email with your perfect score, and a joyful squeal erupts from your throat, echoing off the walls in the room. you can't help yourself; kicking your legs and flailing your arms in a fit of pure happiness, not even noticing that you are rolling toward chris, who lies beside you, blissfully oblivious and lost in a haze from smoking.

but then, in an instant, everything changes. your wild flailing fist makes contact with his balls, and your happiness shatters like glass when chris lets out a sound that is a half grunt, half gasp, his eyes snapping shut as he curls up in agony — that relaxed, floaty feeling he was experiencing, vanishing.

you freeze, your eyes widening in horror as you drop your phone, a gasp fleeting past your lips as you stare at him.

"fuck!" chris hisses, his voice strained. he squeezes his eyes tighter, cupping his balls protectively. "fuck.. fuck, you fuckin' b—" he stops mid-sentence with a sharp groan, and you know exactly what is about to call you, and you can't blame him.

"sorry sorry sorry sorry, i'm so so sorry," you panic through stammers, crawling closer to him, your heart racing as you reach out to touch his bicep. "chris, i'm really—"

"shut up." he grunts, cutting you off sharply. "just be fuckin' quiet — shit."

you jump out of the bed, your feet carrying you out of the bedroom as you flee downstairs, avoiding the weird and curious looks from other frat brothers as you dash into the kitchen, where matt stands in the corner, a peanut butter-covered rice cake frozen halfway to his mouth, watching you rummage frantically through the freezer to search for anything that might help chris.

you grab a bag of frozen veggies — a makeshift remedy — and sprint back up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. you catch a glimpse of nate as you pass, his eyebrows raised in confusion, but you don't stop to explain; you're too focussed on getting back to chris.

you burst back into the room, holding the back of veggies in your hands like it's a precious lifeline and hurry over to him, holding it out for him to take.

"seriously?" he manages to strain out, a mixture of disbelief and annoyance in his voice. reluctantly, he grabs the bag, grimacing as he places it down on his crotch, hissing softly in discomfort.

you watch him for a moment, your heart still racing. "i really didn't mean to—" you begin, but he shoots you a look that silences you, causing you to close your mouth instantly as you sit down on the edge of the bed, gnawing at your bottom lip.

[leighsartworks216]

I Want You

Sylus x gn!Reader

For all my folks who have been told they're not good enough to be wanted by anyone

Warnings: insecurity, kissing, alcohol, swearing, crying, embarrassment, not proofread

Word Count: 1,349

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Have you ever been with anyone?”

It’s a simple question, perhaps born from your uncertainty, here and now. Standing on a moonlit balcony, dressed nicely, dinner on a candlelit table behind you, already savored. It was all Sylus’s planning, of course. When he needed to go to another country, he’d invited you to join him, as a little vacation from your own work to help him with his. When he then invited you to dinner, well, you didn’t think it would be quite this… romantic.

You both stand side by side at the balcony railing, you with half a flute of champagne and him with his own glass of wine. With your elbows on the rail, the flute hangs loosely over the freefall to the ground below. Beyond that, an entire city stretches out into the dim horizon.

You laugh humorlessly. “No. Who would want me?”

“I want you,” Sylus answers quickly.

You don’t look away from the view. Instead, you swirl the champagne around the sides of your glass. The sardonic, deprecating smile slips slowly from your face. You don’t believe him.

He sets his glass on the railing and turns fully toward you. With gentle fingers, he holds your chin and guides you to look up at him. His eyes are sharp. “I want you,” he repeats, firmer this time. His hand slides up to cup your face, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “What will it take for you to believe me?”

You divert your gaze again as you try to pull his hand from your face. “Look, you don’t have to pity me, Sy. I know I’m not desirable-”

“Not desirable?” He scoffs. “Now who ever told you that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just everyone, my entire life? I know nobody wants me, you don’t have to bullshit me on this.”

“When have you ever known me to bullshit something?”

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t let you pull his hand away. Instead, he cradles your face in both hands, chasing your gaze. “I want you. I want… your laugh when you hear me singing, and your eyes when you’re trying to get a plushie from the claw machine.”

“This isn’t funny anymore.” You set your glass down to hold both of his wrists, trying to pull your burning face from his hold so you can leave.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking, sweetheart,” he scolds lightly. “I want your smile when we go for joyrides, and your frown when the Twins are playing tricks on you.”

He leans in, tightening the space trapped between you. The night air is pushed out. It’s just him and you, and your shared breaths. He looks so intense, but not in a frightening way.

Your whole body is hot and uneasy. This still feels like an elaborate joke meant to insult you and make your faux-vacation a personal hell for you to relive every 3am for the rest of your life.

“I want your courage,” he whispers, deep voice slightly raspy at this volume. “I want your stubbornness.”

Your eyes are burning. You’re so embarrassed - you wish you could just hide under the table cloth until the end of the universe.

“I want to watch that triumphant little dance you do when you beat me in Kitty Cards. I want to hear your voice when you first wake up.”

A tear slips free. His face is blurred by the breaking dam. He brushes away each tear with his thumbs.

“I want… every little thing about you.”

You sniffle. You hold tighter to his wrists, torn between continuing to push him away and pulling him closer. He doesn’t shake you off, either way. “What about all the things you don’t want?” you ask, voice trembling and weak and utterly pathetic.

He brushes his nose against yours. Your breath stutters. “Like what?”

“My temper and my recklessness and how- how naive I can be sometimes…” You close your eyes. You can imagine any expression you want on him like this, and right now, you can just picture so perfectly the realization that would come across his face when he realizes you’re right. When he finally remembers just how insufferable and annoying you are. More tears fall as you squeeze them shut tighter. “My fat and my pickiness and-”

“All of it,” he cuts you off. “Anything you can possibly think of. Everything. I want it all.”

His tone leaves no room for argument…

But you’ve never listened to that anyway.

“Why? Why do you want… all of this? You- You can have so much more than me. So much more. Why do you want to settle for me?”

He scoffs. “I’m not settling for anything. You should know by now, kitten, I don’t go for anything less than the best.”

You sniffle again. You can’t imagine what you look like, all gross from crying. One hand finally releases your face, slipping out of your grasp. You hold onto the railing tightly in its place. Something soft and cool brushes away the tears. It’s silk; it feels just like the expensive bed sheets he has on every bed in his base.

“Will you open your eyes?” He cups your face again, the silk pressed in between his palm and your cheek. He brushes his nose more insistently against yours. “Please?”

Water sticks to your eyelashes as you force them open. Under your eyes feels raw and heavy, but your tears have dissipated enough that his face isn’t blurry. He smiles softly.

“There you are,” he whispers, fondly stroking your cheek again. “I want you. Nothing you think will ever change that. Nothing anybody else thinks will change it, either.”

“Really?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up slightly higher, becoming a smirk. “Do I need to prove it to you?”

Your face burns with more than just embarrassment now. You nod ever so slightly. This close, you can see the way his eyes darken as they glance down at your mouth. You can feel his pulse under your hand where you hold his wrist, picking up speed. You just barely hear the slight hitch in his breath as his lips brush over yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and he fully slots your lips together.

He kisses you slow and deep, holding your face firmly to keep you there, to keep you from drawing away from him. It’s insistent. He pulls away for a breath and dives back in. Each kiss is more determined and desperate than the last, until he’s breathing heavily against your mouth, tongue begging for entrance. Until your lips are swollen as you let him in. Until he finally, finally draws away, and watches with hooded eyes as the string of saliva connecting your mouths snaps.

You’re just as dazed as he is. You haven’t even opened your eyes yet, dumbly seeking out his lips again for one more kiss until your mind catches up with the quiet chuckle that fans across your face. Your chest rises and falls with passion, your cheeks are burning with desire, and you look up at him like he’s just pulled the moon down from the sky and handed it to you. He can’t resist nipping gently at your bruised lower lip. He’s glad he didn’t, when you let out a choked whine, begging for more.

“Do you believe me now, my beloved?” he rasps. The name sends shivers down your spine.

You release his wrist and reach up to hold his face. He’s all sharp cheekbones and broad shoulders, but when your fingers brush his hair, it’s impossibly soft. He’s impossibly soft right now, leaning into your touch and sighing as your fingers scrape along the fine hairs at the base of his skull. Gathering all of the courage that he admires so much, you whisper, “I think I need a bit more convincing.”

He laughs, already kissing you when he says, “It would be my pleasure.”

And, despite all the things you’ve been told all your life, you think you’re really starting to believe him.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[revelboo]

Rev's been inactive for 15 whole minutes, everyone panic! Call the honor guard! The navy! Superman even!

/LH /J

Pffft

I’m just hiding out over here writing TF stuff because the Twitter writing community seems to be actively on fire right now and I don’t have the energy to deal with it

Broken Arrow Pt 10

TFP Megatron x Reader

• Curling an arm around you when you go limp against him, it’s almost impossible to let go of your wrist and shatter that connection tethering him to you, but he finally manages to let go, feels your fingers slide through his spark, the pull as he loses contact that urges him to curl himself tighter around you. Instead closing the plating protecting his spark, his servos unsteady as he stares down at you where you’re slumped against him, cheek against his shoulder. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, though he’s not entirely sure what he was thinking. Only that he’d wanted to feel someone touch him, he’d wanted to feel warm fingers stroking over his spark, holding and seeing him. All of him.

• Gripping your chin in his claws, he tips your head back. Your eyes are still closed and your pulse is slow when he strokes along the line of your throat, shifting your leash. Thinking about how you’d felt tangled in him, feeling you still, the connection new and fragile. Frightening. It’s not too late to end it, servos curling loosely about your throat even while knowing he won’t. He can’t when you’re all he really has that’s real, not plotting against him or scheming. That reminds him that he hadn’t always been the ruthless gladiator that had been born in that pit from pain and spilled energon. Staring up at the autocracy gambling on lives because everyone else had mattered so very little to them. Hating them and learning to be so much worse than they were just to survive. To throw them down.

• There’s a warmth coiled inside you, the thrum of something achingly familiar under your cheek and an arm curled around you, servos in your hair. That feeling is safety and home. Eyes opening at the soft clicking of a claw sliding back and forth over the length of your leash in Megatron’s fist, you try to figure out why you feel so exhausted. And then remember his servos gripping your wrist too hard, forcing you into contact with his spark, optics flickering that fitful purple from that crap he keeps taking. Everything after that kind of gets confusing as you flex your fingers and he looks down at you. Aware that he’s cradling you in his lap like a lover and of that scowl he’s aiming down at you. “Get off,” you mutter, trying to push against his chest and almost pitching backwards when lets you. Scrambling out of his lap on unsteady feet, because it’s not just exhaustion, you feel off balance. “You jerk.” Because whatever’s wrong must be his fault. “What did you do?”

• Standing slowly to tower over you, he catches your upper arm when your legs almost fold under you and you slump against him. It’s not a full bond, not exactly. He can feel it in the way his spark is aching, wanting to reconnect. Needing more than a one sided bond, because he can feel the jarring wrongness of it. Knows that a spark bond is meant to unite, to twine two halves together. Meant to be between two willing sparks, not this mess he’s made. Your little hands are pushing at him again, trying to break away and he wonders what it feels like to you. Does it hurt you like it hurts him, a shard wedged in his spark?

• “Stop fighting me, pet.” That command isn’t his usually demanding tone or his teasing, it’s almost tired and very bitter as his arms press you closer despite your attempts to get away. Because the warmth and feel of him against you is suddenly too much, you’re overwhelmed with him. Needing him to back off, because you can’t think beyond the urge to be closer. Claws on your chin, forcing your head up to meet his optics again. Demanding your attention as he stares down at you, optics narrowing. “Primus.”

Previous

[frudoo]

what happened with Oliver’s Dad???DID THE BOYS SAVE HER?!?! I NEED TO KNOW

WE’RE BACK BABEYYY

Warnings: Violence, of course. Poor reader is discovering too many things about herself. John is kinda mean in this one but he means well. Dark!Fic, DDDNE.

“Would ya bloody drive faster?!” Kyle is shaking uncontrollably in the backseat, shoving off Price who keeps trying to calm him down.

“M’already goin’ twice the limit,” Simon snarls, dark brown eyes focused on the road.

It’s a bumpy, borderline suicidal ride whenever Simon drives, but with the added anxiety of your message and the uncertainty of what it meant, the experience is far scarier. Johnny is the quietest he’s ever been, holding back tears as he watches the trees and street signs rush by in a blurry daze. He’s got one hand on Simon’s thigh, thumb rubbing in slow circles to try and ease both of their nerves.

“Two minutes, darlin’, two minutes,” Price mutters to you, wherever you are, his grip on the phone so tight it’s almost sure to crack.

One perk of being a killer is knowing where all of the backroads and hidden trails are that police either don’t know about or refuse to patrol. It eliminates the fear of getting pulled over or followed, and greatly reduces the risk of passing civilians reporting them. It especially comes in handy now as the truck screeches with every reckless turn its driver makes, nearly spinning out of control as they approach the house.

Your car is in the driveway, but you’re not inside. That in itself has each of them seeing red. Simon barely remembers to put the truck in park before hopping out, wide shoulders bouncing with every broad step he takes. He doesn’t bother checking to see if the door is open, just kicks it down with full force. It comes off of its hinges without a fight, slamming onto the floor right by your unconscious body.

“Fuck- John! Get in ‘ere!” Simon yells, knees croaking as he crouches to check for a pulse—when he finds one, he gently picks up your body and cradles you to his chest.

Price comes running in with the other two men right on his heels. John’s eyes harden when he sees the state of you, instantly on high alert.

“Simon, take her out to the truck. There’s ammonia in the glovebox—wake her up. Garrick, Tav and I are gonna go find the fucker who did this,” John barks, crooking his pointer finger in the direction of the truck urgently.

Simon follows orders without hesitation, long legs carrying him to the vehicle faster than he can blink. He throws open the door to the backseat and carefully lays you down, hands shaking as he rummages through the glovebox. Sure enough, there’s a bottle of ammonia buried at the bottom just as Price said. He opens the bottle and cradles the back of your head in one big palm, holding the substance right beneath your nose. It wakes you up instantly, and as you suck in a deep, almost painful gasp, Simon allows a tear to fall.

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, pulling you up into a sitting position and engulfing you in his burly arms. “Fuck- fuck, th-thought we lost ya.”

“Simon,” you hug him as tightly as you can, nails digging into the flesh of his back through the shirt, but he can’t find it in him to care.

His girl—their girl—you are alive.

“Si- Si, where are the others?” Your eyes suddenly widen in horror, and you scramble to exit the truck.

Simon firms his hold on you, dragging you into his lap. He can see the beginnings of tears glistening in your eyes and he cups your cheeks in his large hands, wiping them away before they can even fall. Somehow he doesn’t see the fury that presents itself in your pupils.

“They’re fine, lovie, findin’ the bastard tha’ did this t’ya.”

“No!” You yell with an undeniable edge of rage in your voice, trying to break free from his grip. “No! I want him!”

He’s never seen you like this before—feral. The fire in your eyes is something he’d expect from his other partners, but not you. Honestly, it scares him, enough to make him let you go, but not to make him stay back. He’s right on your trail with a fist tangled into the back of your shirt, keeping you on a short leash so that you don’t go and do anything crass.

You walk in on Johnny putting your attacker in a chokehold, the muscles of his biceps rippling beneath his tanned skin. You’re ready to pounce, shove your lover aside and rip apart Oliver’s father yourself, but Simon calls John over to help restrain your wriggling body.

“Darlin’- hey! Watch!” Price grabs your chin and cheeks and forces you to observe the scene in front of you—Johnny is, in fact, not killing him, just knocking his sorry ass out. “See, baby? You’ll get your chance, but ya have to wait.”

Kyle appears from around the corner with a roll of duct tape. Johnny slowly lowers the bastard’s body onto the floor so as not to crack his skull and spill blood all over the floor, then aids his partner in taping his mouth. Then they flip him over carelessly and hobble him, tying his wrists to his ankles so that when he wakes he’ll be rendered unable to move. It’s cruel, and it makes you salivate.

Johnny and Kyle hoist the deadweight up and head for the open entry where the door was before Simon broke it down. Price carefully carries you bridal-style back outside, setting you in the passenger seat of your car and buckling you in. He shushes you with a harsh snap of his fingers when you try to protest.

“Zip it. One o’us will drive ya back home, and the other lads will deal with the… cargo.”

His voice is sharp, demanding. It’s the way he talks to his victims, a snarl evident in every venomous word that pours from his lips. Instead of rage, you feel humiliated. You feel silly. Your eyelids droop with exhaustion. You blame it on your sudden lack of energy.

“I-I want Johnny,” you mutter, fiddling with your fingers as your hands rest in your lap. “Can he drive me? Please?”

John’s eyes soften at the change in your tone—it’s obvious that the rush of adrenaline that the ammonia caused has run its course, and the sweet, timid girl he knows and loves is coming back to light. He leans down to press a long kiss to your temple, breathing in the scent of you like an expensive perfume.

“Yeah, darlin’. Johnny’ll take ya home,” he whispers, muttering a soft apology against your hair.

You nearly nod off while waiting for Johnny to finish loading up the truck. The sound of the driver’s side door gently shutting stirs you back to consciousness and you find the Scot biting his knuckles as he looks at you. Gently, you pull his hand to your face and rest your cheek in his palm, holding onto him tenderly.

“Gave us a reit scare, ye did,” he chuckles sadly, leaning in to give you a proper hug as best as he can while you’re buckled up.

“I’m glad you came,” you whisper into the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply to ground yourself with the smell of his sweat.

“Anytime ye need us, bonnie. We’re nothin’ withoot ye.”

Johnny cups your face in his clammy hands, leaning in to passionately lock his lips with yours. It’s like the first kiss all over again, albeit less desperate, but with all the same electricity. He’s home to you, your safe space, the first one who captured your heart out of the bunch of them.

It’s silent as he holds your hand the entire way back to the farm, calloused thumb caressing your knuckles adoringly. You finally speak up when he pulls onto the familiar dirt road, breath stuttering as you look at his profile.

“I-I don’t wanna kill him.”

“Tha’s fine, hen, we dinnae-” he begins, but you cut him off by squeezing his hand tighter.

“I just wanna watch.”

[killerpancakeburger]

Halloween w/ Soap

Tags: established relationship, gn!reader, fluff, reader is a cat person. 0.6k words.

“BONNIE!”

Your boyfriend's enthusiastic scream barely makes you move from your cosy spot on the couch, where you're laying on your side and scrolling on your phone.

“Hmm?” you reply, distracted.

He noisily rushes to your side, kneeling on the rug.

“C'mon! Time to get ready!”

You look up to stare at him with perplexity.

“Ready for what?”

“Halloween, f'course!”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, expression hesitating between a smile and a grimace.

“I don't wanna ruin your fun, honey, but you don't think we're a bit old for that…?”

“I promised I'd take my nieces! You're coming with, right? Right?”

Here comes the puppy eyes. You sigh in defeat.

“Do you have a costume?”

He rewards your capitulation with a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Got us matching ones.”

In a normal instance, you would have felt self-conscious about wearing that kind of attire in public, even on the last night of october. But, as if he read your mind, Johnny's attention in getting you matching outfits helped a lot with the matter. Not to mention that he couldn’t go wrong with a black cat attire.

The costumes were very casual— all black, comfortable clothes for you, with cat ears you could clip on in your hair and a cat tail you could stick on the back of your pants; a headband with wolf ears and the bushy tail that came with for your Scottish companion. You were bracing yourself in advance for all the pussy jokes he wouldn’t miss to make.

You didn’t expect to find yourself caught up in the game, but here you were, staring in the mirror and lost in thought. When was the last time you got ready for Halloween…?

“Ye like it?” prompted Soap as he sneaked behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle, a mischievous smile floating on his lips.

“Are you supposed to be a wolf or a werewolf?” you quipped.

“Whatever you think is sexiest,” he purred as he nuzzled into your neck.

You chuckled softly at his willingness to please. Your gaze lingers on his reflection, in particular on the way his torn jeans hugged his muscular thighs. You already knew that if the occasion presented itself, you'd lag behind on your halloween stroll just to enjoy the view of that bubble butt of his.

“You know I like it. But it's missing… something… last time I did this, my mom did my make-up. Smoky eyes and black lipstick. It would fit nicely.”

You turn around to look at him.

“Eyeliner would look insane with your eyes,” you sigh wistfully as you contemplate them, tenderly cradling his cheek.

He snorts, amused.

“Have yer way with me.”

Moments later, you’re putting the final touch to his make-up after doing yours, standing between his spread legs as he sits impressively still, silently following your commands and keeping his blue eyes fixed on you like you were a particularly fascinating chemistry experiment. Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work, tilting his head backward with one finger under his chin.

“Damn it, you’re so beautiful. That's not fair.”

He excessively bats his eyelashes at you to make you laugh, and it works.

You proceed to examine your loot after you two dumped the content of your bags into the biggest bowl you own. 

“Do you want the…? I like them, but nowhere near as much as you.”

He grabs you by the waist and playfully pretends to bite your neck.

“Got my favorite treat right there.”

A cheeky smile spread on your lips.

“Oh? So you won't mind if I take this all for myself?” you taunt him as you turn away while possessively cradling the bowl against yourself.

“Oï, that's not what I meant and ye know it—” he exclaims, acting more outraged than he really is.

You laugh frankly as he tries to seize the candies, but fail when you move the bowl out of his reach. Changing tactics, he tickles your sides and you squirm out of his hold while yelling your surrender.

[wtfdemother]

Slasher AU Voorhees!König yummy, hockey masks. NSFW below, happy Kinkvember day 12 ☃️🤝

post dividers by tsunami-of-tears

CW: Outdoor sex, creampie, he chases you around camp. Established relationship.

Voorhees!König X CampCook!Reader

Voorhees!König who was in a peculiar mood that morning. Hell, the sun wasn’t even up yet and he was getting hungry. For food? Definitely, breakfast was on the list of things to do, among other things… namely you.

Voorhees!König who lazily laid at your side, waiting patiently for you to finally stir so he could kiss you. He waited, and waited, peering down at your peaceful expression as the first chirp of the morning song birds sounded outside your window. Warm sun rays bask the wood of the cabin in its gentle glow, you open your eyes. “G’morning…” a groggy smile tugs at your lips.

Voorhees!König who wastes no time reuniting his scarred lips to yours, how he loves the feel of them. Reverently he presses his forehead over yours and closes his eyes, taking a moment to inhale a deep breath in and appreciate what he’s got, of who he has. To be thankful of the face he gets to wake up beside to every morning. You. Sweet, beautiful you.

Voorhees!König who follows you around camp as you make your first rounds, knowing the place like the back of his hand plus your faithful routine. He uses this to his advantage later on in the day, where the sun isn’t as far up in the sky anymore and that it got a lot darker outside. You spook easy, and that greatly amuses him. He thought he’d have himself a bit of fun, already up to no good as he stalked the forest grounds, mindful for his size of the assortment of dead leaves scattered across the earth. Not making a peep.

Voorhees!König who looms over in the corner of your eye, Camp Crystal Lake was beautiful… when the sun was out to shed light on every nook and cranny. Not so much beauty anymore as it was terrifying now that the wilderness was shrouded in darkness. Still, something eerily drew you to that tall, dark figure who somehow gave the impression of dwarfing the tree beside him with only the width of his shoulders. “König?” You tentatively call out, hesitant to take a step forwards or back.

Voorhees!König who you couldn’t see clearly even in the dim, white light the moon offered. Something cold rushed down your spine like someone doused you in ice water. When the figure remained still you bolted, dread telling you to run. You were right, the person gave chase moments later. You speed through the cedars, left right left, dodging narrow paths and jumping over deeply embedded tree roots in the soil. You think you’re being clever changing directions, but no sooner did you hear the thundering steps of the man coming from behind you.

Voorhees!König who is hot on your trail, adrenaline burning in his veins as heavy footsteps boom through the forest. Your lungs burn, inhaling greedy gulps of air with every hastened breath. Your vision blurs and your ears ring loud enough to block out any sound. When your legs threaten to buckle underneath you, he catches you, sending both your bodies rolling down a pile of dead leaves, scattering them above in the crisp atmosphere.

Voorhees!König whom you can feel silently laughing to himself as he holds you close, mirth tinting a pair of baby blues behind that stupid hockey mask. Your nose turns sour from the smell of embarrassment, you scowl. “I hate you so much for that. Asshole.” You try to shove him but he doesn’t care, doesn’t even budge from his place. He cradles you on the forest floor, it’s not as cold and hard in his arms. He doesn’t let the adrenaline die down, tugging at his cargo pants until they sit snug at his hips. He lifts his mask up enough just to kiss you, roughly palming an asscheek as he swallows all complaints. “You didn’t have to scare me…” you mumbled against his kiss.

Voorhees!König who gives you one last sheepish grunt before sinking himself deep into your warmth, just wanting to fuck you nasty. His hips snap forward, stuttering to find a good rhythm, his mind too far gone to think about aesthetics now. He just wanted to fuck you raw, right now and here where you could be as loud as need be. His balls hung heavy with unexpressed semen, peering down at your caged form through the haziness, pupils blown and unfocused with want and desire swirled into one dangerous cocktail.

Vorhees!König who shamelessly groans into your ear, hoisting your hips up in the air as he grabs a hold of the ample flesh of your backside, hearing the wet, echoing sounds of flesh slapping with every given thrust. He just wants to be lost in you, consume you whole and let be consumed by the one he adores most entirely. He’s lost in the feeling, you coat him so generously in the sheen of your own arousal, he can’t help but to pepper your flushed, cherub cheeks in kisses as a silent praise. He grunts approvingly, wishing he could say you were taking him so well, instead he smooths the hairs back from your forehead.

Vorhees!König who can feel his cock twitch inside you, rubbing his face against your cheek in a wordless apology that he cannot last much longer. Your pussy spasms around his shaft before he could reach and it makes for his release all the stronger. You cry out his name in broken syllables, drawling out the letters until they intermingle with your moans. He bites down on your shoulder, hard, tears pour from the corners of your eyes as they roll to the back of your skull. A shared, searing warmth washes over you both as you come undone. König spills himself deep, hips slowing down their pace to a slamming halt, his tip probing at your cervix as it pulses ropes of his essence into your welcoming cunt.

Vorhees!König who lays with you until you both catch your breath, making no visible attempt to pull out, at least not anytime soon. He lays there with you on the cold, hard dirt, taking in the variety of smells of his surroundings. The fresh scent of damp soil contrasted with the heavy musk of sex in the air, he’s never felt so at peace with all this energy spent.

Vorhees!König who carries you back to the cabin like the gentleman he is, drawing you a nice warm bath before sinking in himself, nuzzling into your shoulder from behind. And before you crawl into bed that night, he kisses you on the crown of your head, only pulling away enough to sign, ‘I love you’.

Lucky him who gets to wake up to breakfast in the morning. He deserves it anyway.

[manikeri]

too rough..

content warming: rough sex, dirty talk, stomach issues (he tore your shit up), breeding, aftercare, little bit of begging, whiny dom! eren, sub! reader, enjoy!

summary: Eren just can’t control himself when he’s inside your pretty pussy! He goes so rough that you have cramps, don’t worry though. Your renny would never ever just leave you like that! Forgive him?

“Heyyy baby…” Eren coos while rubbing your back gently, his weight putting a dent in the bed as he sat next to your cradled body. Your knees to your chest with the blanket over your body. You nudged your body forward a little before wincing at the pain that shot through your tummy.

It was all his fault!! You had the whole day planned out! You were gonna go on a coffee run, go on a target shopping spree, maybe even grab a bite to eat! But nooo…

Don’t get it twisted you love your pretty boy, so much! He just has a problem.. an addiction.. to your pussy. Last night was the 3rd time this week he woke you up in the middle of the night to have sex!!!

I mean.. you weren’t sleeping anyways.. but that’s not the point!!! You were getting there, ok?!

“please don’t be like that.. I said sorry..”

“…”

“really? Silent treatment?”

“…my stomach hurts”

“i know baby, I’m sorry I brought you some aleve and water”

Eren kneeled in front of you as you sat up from your fetal position holding your stomach. You took the pills and drank the water while staring at him.. god he was so pretty

His forearms resting on his knees as his head was tilted to the side, you watched as he brung his tattooed hands up to your things rubbing them slowly. You couldn’t help but let your mind wander off to what happened last night

“fuck! too r-rough ren!” you screamed for the millionth time tonight.

“pussy feels so. fuckin. good. babyyyy… oh my god i love you so much” he whined as he continued fucking himself out in your pretty cunny

You layed your head back down as he gave you the most lethal backshots known to man, you tried putting your hand on his abdomen but that didn’t work.. he was saying things like

“shitt.. no, not right now baby. please don’t keep this from me right now”

“please baby please just let me have it. All of it”

“Stop doing that..! I need this so badly, please let me make the both of us feel good baby.”

All you could do was whine along with him! You both were so pathetic. Fucking each other stupid at 1 in the morning. Your eyes rolling back as you bit the blanket. His hips having a mind of their own, his cheeks dusted a baby pink, his eyes furrowed in pleasure, and his mouth hanging open as he watched where you both connected.

You started to throw it back a little on him, you hated seeing him do all the work. You never wanted to be a pillow princess. You love pleasing your man, and man did he love you pleasing him

“shit! you trynna one up me baby?”

“n-no.. just wanna make you feel good”

“makin’ me feel real good baby”

He let out a shaky sigh before grabbing your hips and ramming into you with all his might. You squealed into the blanket as you took his harsh strokes. Eventually you felt a tingly feeling building up in your stomach, Eren knew before you could say anything to him.

“I know baby i feel it, just let it go.. fuck me…”

“want you to cum with me!”

“fuck! You’re driving me crazy y/n… shit im gonna cum, cum with me please baby please”

You came on instant a loud moan leaving your lips as your eyes crossed and squeezed you eyes shut, a loud groan coming immediately after.

All that could be heard were heavy breaths and squelching as eren rode out both of your highs. He finally pulled out and laid down next to you, only to find you already dead asleep. He kissed your forehead before drifting off himself

“if you keep staring at me like that you’re gonna be complaining about your tummy for the rest of the week” he said poking the flesh and giggling after you kick his calf.

“Just jokes beautiful, come on, I got you a surprise” he says getting up and walking to the door before turning around and seeing you still on the bed.

“hey, baby.. im really sorry i went so rough yesterday. You have every right to be angry-”

“im not angry ren.”

“so why aren’t you coming wit-”

“I can’t walk…”

His mouth opens in realization before walking out with explanation, then back in with a bunch of presents. Your favorite drink, snacks, new plushies for your collection. Some bags from your favorite store.

You smiled and held your arms out for him to hug you, he put everything on the bed and walked over to your side of the bed with a smile

“I love you rennie”

“I love you more baby.”

[cozzzynook]

I bring some TFA hurt/comfort Ft:Prowlbee

When Prowl died a part of Bumblebee did so as well. For the next few weeks Bee had refused to come out of his room and speak with anyone, all he wanted was to be left alone with his grief. No none had been none the wiser to their relationship which only hurts Bee's spark more.

As time passed Bee was spending one day wrapped in a nest of blankets while just slowly picking away at his energon. Optimus despite being busy these days often stops by to drop off energon as well checking in on him so he has someone to talk too. Today however was different, Bumblebee had noticed a small bump forming on his tank but he simply brushed it off as frame gain since he hasn't super active or left his room in a while. After finishing up the last of his energon Bee gave a soft grumble as he slowly streched before leaving his nest of blankets, only to stop suddenly as a wave of pain washed over him forcing Bee back onto the padding. Afraid and panicking Bumblebee suddenly sends a com to Optimus and Ratchet knowing it would take a while for them to answer. Just as another wave of pain creeps its way upon Bee's back, he then crawls back into his nest softly whimpering while holding his tanks. After shutting his optics tightly he wishes this just a bad dream just one big terrible dream.

Some time passes and the sound of a door almost being tore of its hinges could be heard as both Optimus and Ratchet rushes inside looking for Bumblebee. They quickly scan the room until they find Bee quietly cooing and whispering to something while tears fell down his cheeks. Optimus softly gasps when he spots the tiny sparkling in the yellow mech's arms, meanwhile Ratchet gets to work helping Bumblebee sit up and starts checking them over while softly hissing at Optimus to stop standing around and grab some clean blankets for the sparkling. Once they get into the med-bay and everything starts to settle Bumblebee is finally able to get a good look at his little sparkling who is currently napping away in their little cradle. The sparkling is almost a perfect of Prowl with minor changes such as having more yellow accents and a slightly longer chevron than their Sire's, but for Bee they are perfect as he gently nuzzles their little helm with his own while softly purring promising he will love them with every glimmer of his spark while also keeping them safe.

(little Bonus: Prowl's ghostly sprit stood at the edge of the medical berth with a soft smile on his face. He watched Bee's chest rise and fall with each soft vent as he peacefully recharged, in his arms he held their little sparkling close as they nuzzled up close to their Carrier's chest enjoying the familiar hum and warmth of Bumblebee's spark. Carefully stepping to the side Prowl's smile grew wider as he leaned down to place a careful kiss on top of Bee's helm. He knew he likely would never feel it or hear his words but he wanted to to tell how much he loved him. "They are perfect Bumblebee...thank you for such a wonderful gift. I love you" Bee suddenly smiled in his sleep and muttered "Love you too, Prowler")

😭😭😭😭😭😭

I love it 😭😭

[moonspirit]

Imagine Annie taking care of Armin when he’s sick. Fever, sore throat, runny nose, nausea... he, unfortunately, catches some kind of virus and is now forced to stay in bed for a while. He is exhausted not only mentally, but also physically.

At that moment, Annie realizes that she's never taken care of someone sick. Especially not someone as close as Armin. That's why it's so strange for her...that she wants to make herbal tea for him, air out the room, and change his blanket for a warmer one.

Hello hello!!

Sick scenarios are so cute because both of them are just so vulnerable T_T So much room to explore sides of the two that might show up for the first time even!

I imagine that a sick Armin really struggles to accept any sort of pampering. Because of course not, he shouldn't burden Annie, he shouldn't stress her out, he shouldn't be so weak to fall sick in the first place ffs. So his apologetic streak is really winning the race when he's constantly reassuring her he's fine, that he should get back to work now (so the others don't have to do it, of course #_#), that he'll be as good as new with some coffee! Quite predictably, he's keeling over like Titanic the second he's out of bed.

Annie, on the other hand, is pretty irritated by him being like this. But then, like you said, she can't help but feel worried and anxious over his state, and these feelings of so much intensity are quite new. To tend to someone and nurse them back to health is an act of service, not one she's accustomed to receive, much less deliver.

But this is Armin. And when he looks so vulnerable like that, reaching to hold her hand while delirious, she just can't help but want to cradle him in her arms until he's alright again.

I honestly believe such an event would help Annie open up to accepting her capacity to actually save someone as opposed to killing them. As much as it's an act of service, it's also incredibly fulfilling for the self, and it goes without saying that it's tenfold for a loved one. In giving Armin care and affection, she also draws from it the knowledge that she's soft, she's tender, she can wipe his sweat and change his sheets, all of it without hurting. All this not out of her need to be perfect and execute things like the father's daughter she was raised to be, but simply because this is love.

For Armin, then, being taken care of would be a kind of acceptance on his part, to receive. He's good at giving, not so good at accepting, because of his belief that's he's not deserving, among a wealth of other things. Sometimes it's being helped up, wiped down, and fed when you're too weak to hold the spoon, that says "Yes, please help me" the best. Knowing she loves him will help him understand that she doesn't see it as an obligation or duty, but rather does it because she cares for him so much deeper than shows on the surface. It tells him he's valuable, priceless, irreplaceable, all for more than just what he's good for.

Because "Let me take care of you," and "Yes, please take care of me" are just other ways to say "I love you."

[darkgunslinger]

Debacle R update! New Chapter!

Just wanted to give this story/update a shout out for anyone who remembers/wants to know what it’s all about! I will continue to update, if you’ll please give this story a look! Thanks for all your support and feedback! If you are new, don’t forget to check it out!

Summary:

All his life Dib has wanted to capture Zim and gain the victory and fame he has always wanted. When his wish comes true, his dream doesn't quite play out as he imagined.

CHAPTER 14: THE COST

As the connectors began to tear from the ports, Zim helplessly fell to shrieking. Then there was a sharp crack and the PAK snapped free. Antennae dangling down, he numbly watched as sweat speckled the floor below him.

He tried to escape to someplace else as the disconnection shivered through his system, and focused on the monstrous shadow of the cradle, with the tall silhouettes of the scientists mulling around him. But they barely gave the sobbing, shivering creature much attention as they focused on what Carlson was holding as if it was the Holy Grail.

Williams hit the stopwatch to begin the ten minute countdown.

Amazing cover art belongs to Weevmo!

Link down below!

[sxldierselfship]

I don't know what's been up with me lately (as in, the last two or three days), but all I seem to want to do is hold him so close and keep him in my arms. It makes me wonder if all of the guys are touch-starved to some degree, and if my sweetheart is, then I clearly have to fix it.. I just feel this incredible need in me to have him in my arms whenever it's possible, and I'm not quite sure why 🥺

[toshkakoshka]

been playing with the idea of the fact aether and lumine are millions (if not even an infinitesmal) of years old and its got me thinking about them having kids. like surely the worlds theyve been in have in fact brought them to having lovers and eventually kids??? and who knows how many lifetimes theyve lived through just to be with them…

also including: trans twins! so aether has definitely been pregnant enough times to be very used to the childbirth pain… when he has his children in teyvat, he’s completely silent throughout the birthgiving, which would shock his partner lmfao…

[revelboo]

OOOO! Yes yes yes! Please more of the Lost Light crew! I love them all so much!

And more Shockwave (any gen) PLS PLS PLS he is my absolute favorite!!!

Your writing is amazing! All of it! I love every update! Every story is such a treat and the way you write is delicious!

Thank you!

Invisible Monsters Pt 5

Lost Light Megatron x Reader

• “What’s going on?” You mumble as he reaches up to curl his servos around the warmth of you where you’d apparently draped yourself against his neck while he recharged. Hates moving you, but his data pad is lit up. Carefully cradling you to him so he can sit up and reach for his data pad as it dings again. “Megatron?” The worry in your sleepy voice makes him slow down, tracing the curve of your cheek with a servo. Wanting nothing more than to just lay back down with you, because he’s rested better feeling the beat of your heart against him than he has in forever. How long has it been since his recharge wasn’t haunted by nightmares? Somehow, having you there, feeling you, banishes them.

• “Everything’s well.” His words are reassuring, but there’s the faintest hint of a growl in his voice that contradicts him and you’re wide awake now. Whatever that alert was, it’s bad. That feeling strengthening as the former warlord shutters his optics for a moment as if gathering himself. Or praying for strength. Rodimus maybe? “I’ll be back,” he adds, lowering you onto his berth as he stands, hesitating to drape a blanket around you before leaving.

• Stiffening when the finds Ultra Magnus waiting outside his quarters, he falls into step beside the other mech, heading for the bridge. “How many?” And how had no one realized what idiocy Brainstorm was up to? Preceptor is supposed to be watching him, reining him in.

• “Aside from the one currently in your possession?” The look Magnus shoots him clearly giving away his opinion on leaving a human in his care. And it’s not that he doesn’t understand the other mech’s concern, but it still bothers him that Magnus assumes you’re in danger with him. That he’d hurt you. “Three more have been found so far, but Brainstorm isn’t exactly being forthcoming. If that device has been randomly pulling humans here since the first one appeared, there’s no telling how many there are. It doesn’t help that we keep finding new areas of the ship or rooms that were walled off.”

• Primus, what a mess. “The others?” He asks servos lifting unconsciously to touch his throat where your warmth was before he realizes what he’s doing and drops his hand. “Who has them?”

• “Rodimus has one that he tried to pawn off on me. Drift has another that seems to be having some sort of lingering issue with being transported. And Whirl.” Venting tiredly at him as Megatron’s steps falter, Magnus holds up a hand. “I know, but considering their immediate instinct when faced with him was to punch him? I’m not too concerned. I’m more worried that Brainstorm said there’s likely more not on the ship.”

• Running his servos over his face, he swallows a growl, because this mess just gets better. Because how to tell you that they’d figured out what had happened to you, but that you’d been one of the lucky ones? That you might not have been is an uneasy feeling twisting through his spark. He’d never have known what he was missing, never have felt the touch of those trusting, little hands on his much bigger ones. Hands that before had only been used to hurt. “Dead, then?” He hazards as they enter the bridge and he spots Rodimus and Drift both cornering Brainstorm, the scientist appearing bored with them.

• “Or on another ship or world we passed too near. From what Brainstorm and Preceptor have volunteered, humans were only shifted to places where Cybertronians were.”

Previous

[humantome]

i wante. to kiss the robot. please </3

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Oh god the Dean feels