#bonnie voice …. cat .

[betweenheroesandvillains]

goodbye my darling angel who used to yell at me 24/7 and had a weird thing about watching TV with people but at least realised after a few years that people petting you is actually nice

[lanternlightss]

📓 for the ask game thing! i want to know!

(ask game)

slides into the room and smiles. my first favorite thing to do to characters is squish and fawn over them. my second favorite thing is to torment them /j

anyways: what if. we took. a hammer to loop and siffrin.

SO. loop cat au. somewhere in, hmm, act 3, where you’re repeatedly fighting against the king !! and trying to get information !!! unfortunately this siffrin is tired and also is not good at fighting the king so he keeps. dying. to him. this is important information for later—notably the part where siffrin is beginning to take the dive into exhausted apathy and annoyance.

loop here. accidentally. makes a wish (i cannot decide how to word it, but something to do withh someone being better suited to the whole “guiding” thing. they don’t want to do this. they shouldn’t do this. the universe is just like ?? aren’t you already. oh well. squints. folks like cats, right.) And Well !! oops !!! when the next loop starts, they are no longer human shaped, and stare horrified at their paws. cut to siffrin who is laying in the field coming up with a new way to insult the king before hearing ?? yowling ?? coming closer to him ??? and getting a handful of cat launching themself at him.

siffrin trying to make sure this cat doesn’t get flung off: hello ????? are you okay ???? (since when was there a cat out here.)

loop: [Something. Has Not. Gone To Plan.]

siffrin: LOOP ???????????????

and now siffrin has a new snag to iron out !!! and a new party member, because, for as complicated loop’s feelings are towards siffrin, i feel like. they. wouldn’t want to be alone, rn. the universe already fucked them over once and now they’re having to deal with an even LESSER lack of autonomy. plus, this way it’ll be even easier to make sure everything goes right !!! (<- is what they keep telling themself, trying not to bolt from the house.) (i also really really want to explore what would happen if loop just dragged siffrin out, alone, and was like. okay we’re doing this ourselves okay. loop hangout part 2. you ready. i am not. don’t look into that. you didn’t hear that. let’s go. And Then continuing to experiment like that, just the two of them.) (<- ALSO ALSO this would make an act 5 situation :] very interesting. because they !!! have the optiioonnn. of following. right after. and also i wonder if this would make both of them even more “throw shit at the wall” after learning wish craft because. if they can break the time loop wish. they can. break this wish, right?) i swear this would be a mostly fluffy fic. loop cuddles up to siffrin when they have to sleep and keeps denying it.

loop does interact with the rest of the party at one point too :] after siffrin accidentally blows up the secret that they’re stowing away a cat, which does not go well 🤍 they look like this for almost the entire duration of it:

[thebramblewood]

An ongoing saga: will Praline ever learn to stop jumping on the bed or should her humans just give up and relinquish it to her already?

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

[prompt-heaven]

the ultimate list of AUs, kinks and tropes to inspire you for kinktober 

some of these are darker in nature since that is fitting for the spooky season. 

AUs

academic / teacher / professor / tutor 

addams family

babysitter / nanny

bartender

biker

bodyguard

bonnie and clyde

bounty hunter

boxer 

camp counselor

circus / carnival

cult 

demon / angel

fairytale retelling

fantasy 

farmer

firefighter

guardian angel 

historical 

hybrid

mafia / mob 

magic 

maid / butler 

mechanic 

modern 

monster / mythology / supernatural

paranormal investigator 

pirate / mermaid

post-apocalyptic

priest

prison

rockstar 

royalty

serial killer

sex worker / porn / camgirl/boy / stripper 

slasher

soulmate

spy / secret agent

steampunk / cyber punk

sugar daddy

tattoo artist 

time travel

treasure hunter 

vampire

werewolf 

wild west

TROPES

a/b/o

against a wall 

age gap

amnesia / memory loss

anonymous sex

balcony sex

boss x employee 

brothers best friend / dad’s best friend (dbf)

car sex

cheating

clothed sex

comforting sex

coworkers to lovers

cursed / fuck or die / sex pollen

dark / soft!dark

enemies to lovers

exes to lovers

fake relationship

forbidden romance

friends to lovers

friends with benefits

game gone wrong

hate sex / make-up sex

huddle for warmth

just the tip

library sex

loss of virginity

mirror sex

neighbours to lovers 

only one bed

opposites attract

period sex

pool / hot tub sex

predator / prey

professor x student

public / semi-public sex

revenge sex

reverse harem

romantic sex

roommates to lovers

rough sex

seduction

sex in an alley

sex in exchange for a favour

sex while camping

shower / bath sex

stalker

stepcest

table sex

unrequited love

yandere

KINKS

aftercare

anal 

begging

being recorded / taking pictures

body worship

dom / sub / bondage / bdsm / shibari

breath play / choking

cheating

cockwarming

corruption kink 

costumes / uniforms

creampie / breeding / forced breeding

cuckolding

cum in panties

cumplay

cunnilingus / face sitting / rimming / blowjob / deep throating / gagging

dacryphillia

dirty talk / voice kink

double penetration / double penetration in one hole 

dry humping / thigh riding 

dubcon / noncon / cnc / drugging

dumbification

exhibitionism / voyeurism

fingering

fisting

flashing 

food play 

footjob 

forced orgasm

formal wear 

free use

glory hole

glove kink 

hand kink

handjob 

hole inspection

humiliation / degradation

hunter / prey

impact play / spanking / whipping / hair pulling / pain kink

jealousy / sharing / possessive

knife kink / gun kink

lingerie / stockings / socks

massage

masturbation / caught masturbating / mutual masturbation

medical kink

monsterfucking / tentacles

multiple orgasms

orgasm denial / overstimulation / edging

threesome / orgy / gangbang

partner swap 

pegging

piercings

pillow humping

praise kink 

premature ejaculation / cuming untouched

pussyjob

roleplay

role reversal

ruined orgasm / cuming without permission

sensory deprivation 

sexting / phone sex 

facial / swallowing / bukakke

size kink / size difference / belly bulge

skirt stays on

somnophilia / getting fucked to sleep

spit kink

squirting

stripping / lap dance

teasing 

temperature play

thigh fucking

throat training

titty fucking

toys / object insertion 

OTHER PROMPTS

a ritual gone wrong 

a string of unexplained deaths

a summer fling gone horrible wrong, or right

alian abduction 

art come to life

basement wife 

being paralysed 

blackmail 

caught trespassing on private property

college party gone wrong

crazy ex

curiosity killed the cat

fate worse than death

final girl

getting stranded in a little town that’s not as wholesome as it seems

ghostface

halloween party

haunted house / abandoned house 

haunted object 

hitch-hiking gone wrong

hot neighbour that has an obsession with you

i was sent here to assassinate you but now i think i might be in love with you

Items moving and/or going missing

i’ll find you in every universe / century

kidnapping

lost in a maze

mad scientist 

magical healing 

marriage / wedding / arranged marriage/ forced marriage 

mind control / telepathy

mirrors playing tricks on the mind

oh, you had a long day? use me as your personal sex toy in order to unwind

oops, i summoned a demon 

oops, i’m dating a serial killer

playing games (like seven minutes in heaven, spin the bottle, hide and seek, etc.) but they have a slutty/dark twist to them

possession (ghost or demon)

power outage

ritual / sacrifice / blood magic

road trip

secret room

serial killers fucking in front of hostages

stalker landlord

stalker wearing the same costume as your partner 

stockholm syndrome

the return of a villain thought dead

torture

toxic frat boy

waking up from strange dreams and seeing bruises and marks on your skin that correspond exactly with the dream you just woke from

we’re the last people on the planet and you will be mine

you wake up strapped to a table just as a fuck machine is turned on

[sebsxphia]

your (my) life with rhett abbott.

rhett abbott x reader.

￫ summary: a life with rhett.

￫ word count: 680.

￫ warnings: mentions of sex, some angst, children and fluff.

￫ authors notes: this is a collection of daydreams i have about my cowboy husband. my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Rhett is a little awkward and shy. For a burly bull rider, when he first asked you out, his thumb moved between each fingernail to pick at it. His hands were twitching with nerves. From a first glance, he simply looked like a man asking a person out. His hands were by his sides and he stood tall.

His father told him to never look small, even though he made Rhett feel so small sometimes.

When you replied with a beaming smile that you would love to go out with him sometime, his cheeks became flushed with a warm pink, that spread over the tops of his ears and down his neck in a hot flush.

He gets grumpy too. His eyebrows knit together in a firm line. His eyes become stone and his eyelids grow heavy. He’ll focus on one particular spot of dirt on his jeans, not baring to look at anything else. He clenches his teeth tightly together and his jaw becomes firmly set.

But, he stands up for himself and what he thinks is right. However, it comes off as him being defensive and angry when really, he’s only trying to protect the things that he loves most. That being the life you’ve built together on your ranch and most importantly, you and your little baby girl.

Bonnie Abbott was born in the early spring. You spent many days in the summer standing on your front porch, with her in your arms and watching Rhett work not too far from your home. He couldn’t bear to spend long periods away from you both, so he always opted to do work closer to your home during the day.

You would hold her chubby little hand and wave it for her, humming in a sweet voice, “Wave to Daddy, Bonnie!”

You watch as your three ranch cats jump from the rooftops and fences of the barn. Your Anatolian Shepherd, Daisy, sits by your feet and keeps a careful and protective watch over both you and Bonnie. Robin, your Blue Heeler, is always quick on Rhett’s heels and trails around behind him, as he works in the hot and sticky Wyoming summer heat. Rhett whistles sharply between his lips and Robin is always quick to follow.

You still live in Wyoming, but you chose your ranch to be two towns over from Wabang. Rhett wanted to distance himself from his family, but he couldn’t leave them completely. He’s still holding onto this deeply entrenched guilt, that therefore causes him to tether to them.

He’s working on it though. He’s working on himself.

He doesn’t deny his mother and father of seeing his grandchild. You go back to visit when you can, but you normally leave after spending the day there. Rhett can only bear so many hours before the familiar and tell-tale signs of his set frown and tense jaw begin to appear. You still go back for occasions such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those are the only two occasions when you, Rhett and Bonnie will stay the night.

His old room is still there. It still comforts him.

You press up against Rhett in his small bed and keep him warm, whilst Bonnie sleeps soundly beside you both in her crib. His room is nearly identical to when he left it, but these small changes with you both now being in there with him, is what gives him the harmony to fall asleep.

You asked Rhett once if he would be gentle with you, as he had your beautiful naked body below him.

“Will you be gentle with me? Please be gentle with me.”

He gave you the love that you so dearly deserved. He calls you his “baby,” his “darlin’”, his love.

He is your dream. He is your cowboy, but a man who needs to be wanted. He needs to feel wanted. He gets so much validation from you, in every way. Emotionally, physically, sexually… And you give that to him without hesitation. He’s so over the moon with you. He’s so profoundly and deeply in love with you.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @currentlybradshaw @unmistakablyunknown @iloveprettyboysblog @flames-thebitch @randomfandomgirl97 @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

tagging those who may be interested: @sunblchdfly @sugarcoated-lame @lewmagoo @peachystenbrough @floydsmuse @rhettmotel @mearslot @rhettabbotts @hangmanapologist @withahappyrefrain @castiel-barnes @sandbarbirdie

[ivymarquis]

Not me vividly hallucinating about a certain scot eating me out until I cry

What you wish for

Pairing| John “Soap The Munch (tm)” MacTavish x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| ~500 Kinks/Content/Warnings| Cunnilingus, squirting, mentions of safe word, Johnny is A Munch(tm), the author is an American still trying to dial in a Scottish accent

Date a munch, they said.

It would be fun, they said.

And it is, for the most part- you can admit that with no hardship.

It’s just that occasionally (like now), it becomes obvious that Johnny is eating you out for his pleasure and your own is just a happy by-product.

“Shit, ah! Johnny! I’m gonna- hgn- Johnny I’m gonna cum,” you pant in warning as the Scot buried between your thighs goes to town on you like a man starved.

Every time this man drops to his knees in front of you, it is a guarantee you’re going to see stars.

This time he’s got you pinned on your back on the bed. You seem to be wiggling too much for his taste as he’s banded one forearm across your waist and the other hand grips one thigh to keep your legs spread for him.

No matter how much you cry and moan and buck and cant your hips, he just leans his weight on you to keep you still.

He alternates between broad swipes with the flat of his tongue or more pointedly circling your clit or lapping at the inside of you.

While he’s yet to disappoint, he really seems into it (re: you) today. Like teetering on has-something-to-prove into it.

With that sort of dedication and attention, it’s no wonder he’s got you squirting and squealing in record time as he slips two fingers inside and abuses that spot that has you seeing stars.

Johnny works you through your high, lapping up every drop of it like it’s his last meal. Your legs twitch weakly in his hold as he continues on.

You think that maybe he’s working himself down, that he’ll leave you be in a minute.

He doesn’t.

Less attention is paid directly to your clit, but he’s still honed in between your legs even as you squirm. “Johnny,” his voice is a whine in your throat. “Johnny I came- I already came,” like there was any possibility that he is unaware of that- given how you squirted all over his face.

He pulls off momentarily, eying you with a skeptical look. “The fuck’s that got to do with me, bonnie? Cum or don’t, I'm finished when I'm finished.”

Your brain needs a system reboot at that- you stare at the ceiling dumbly as he gets back to business.

He’s trying to kill you- there’s no other explanation for it.

(Distantly you remember how your ex never went down you- still expected head on a routine basis, of course!- and you swore that the next guy you dated would have to be okay with reciprocation. You certainly got your wish in spades, hadn’t you? Almost like the universe was apologizing in the most mind-melting way possible)

It’s all you can do to lay there and breathe. If it actually gets to be too much- well, that’s what safewords are for. But Jesus fucking Christ the man doesn’t do anything in halves.

It’s only after he’s wrenched your second orgasm from you that he lets up, crawling up the bed to collapse to the side of you.

“Soon as my legs quit twitching, I’m returning the favor,” it takes you a couple tries to stammer out the words. Johnny looks every bit like the cat that caught the canary.

“Oh I’m no done with that sweet cunt o’ yours- ye just looked like ye were gonna pass oot. We’ll give ye a break an then back tae it, hm?”

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 19

Kinktober Masterlist aegri somnia - “troubled dreams” TF141 x f!reader Kinks > sex-pollen, gangbang, semipublic, corruption Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You’re at a costume party on Halloween night on base with your team. The whole gang is there, and they sample something …strange… from the bar. The only cure for their fever? You.

Warning: drugged sex, dubcon, sex-pollen style scene, anal, vaginal, face fucking, some ghoap.

You were a kitty cat. Past tense. Now, you looked like a chimney sweep. This Halloween party had gotten way out of hand. The heating was cranked up to ninth-circle-of-Hell temperatures, and everyone was dancing, sweating, and getting completely fucking sloshed. 

Your whiskers and nose had long been rubbed away, and you’d lost the cat ears somewhere between the upstairs toilet and the sandpit volleyball game that the boys had set up in the basement. Two months of deadtime in the Urzikstani Green Zone had been great for morale but shit for discipline. Price was gonna be so pissed when he saw how Soap had painted the TAC-V like a big pumpkin. 

“You alright, love?” Gaz slurred, stumbling a bit before resting his arm around your shoulder, half-in and half-out of his own Paddington Bear getup. He still had the red hat, but the blue jacket was tied around his waist, and the matching shorts looked like little more than boxer briefs. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Parched. What’s that?” You pointed to his hand, jealous that he had a cold beverage. 

“Mm,” he took a sip and handed you the cup, “I dunno. Soap was passin’ it around. Orange, mysterious, probably lethal.”

“I’ll take my chances,” you laughed, downing the last sip.

“Speak of the devil…” Gaz nodded over to the makeshift bar.

There, on top of two stacks of crates, stood Soap, pouring his orange concoction right into Simon Riley’s open mouth. Soap was dressed in a little red devil outfit, complete with pitchfork, and Ghost was… well, he was just himself. The skeleton mask did the trick, you supposed. 

You shook your head, laughing at them, and Soap looked up to see you there. 

“Oy! C’mere, bonnie. Got somethin’ special for ya.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you grumbled, walking over to the bar with Gaz in tow.

Soap was crouched over in his tight red onesie, digging through an ice chest. He emerged with a wide, mischievous smile on his face and a bottle of eerie, murky liquid.

“Pinched this from Ale and Rudy when they were in last night. Probably that killer tequila he’s been on about. Didnae wanna try it by meself.”

He started to pour out four cups, and you turned your nose up at it,

“Oh, Jesus, Johnny. This smells like piss.”

“Quit your whingin’, lass. You’ve had worse things in your mouth,” he winked, downing his shot and wearing a twisted face of immediate regret.

“Suppose that’s right,” you shrugged, drinking down your own. 

It rushed through you like burning fire, and it made you feel like you’d been punched right in the jaw. 

“Holy fuck,” Simon coughed, “The hell is this, Johnny? Fuckin’ petrol?”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Gaz complained, trying to breathe slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

“Ach! C’mon, it’s not that bad,” Johnny protested, going back for a second dose.

Suddenly, a husky voice came out of the darkness behind the crates, 

“What’s all this then?”

“Oh, hey, Cap’n,” Johnny tried to look normal. He failed, but at least he tried.

Price rolled his eyes, but he held out his cup and held it out to the sergeant,

“Go on, then. Give us a taste.”

You watched as Price took two big gulps, your own stomach turning from the memory, and gaped in amazement as he mostly controlled his expression. Show off.

You were already sweaty, but this tequila made you feel like you were going to burn right up. You wanted to move. The music was deafening, and even though you didn’t know this song, you begged Gaz for a dance. 

“C’mon! Just one.”

“Alright, love. But, you know I can never have just one,” he twirled you around, making you feel even drunker than you were, and led you out into the warehouse where Ghost had rigged his huge boombox to make a dance floor.

Everyone was dancing. Time was moving at an insane rate. Fast and slow, dilating in and out, and you were like a shadow, letting it pass right through you, drunk and high and everything in between. 

Soap and Ghost joined you, and Price watched on from the edge, smoking and looking a little red around his eyes. 

Suddenly, Gaz’s hands were on your hips, pulling you back into him, grinding you against his crotch.

“Hey,” you turned over your shoulder, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin’, babes. Just dancin’. That alright?”

You nodded, smiling up at him, 

“Yeah, I guess so. Feels like this tequila went right to my head.”

“This fat arse is goin’ right to mine,” he said, staring down at your butt, squeezing it roughly.

You felt his cock through his shorts as he danced with you, rubbing himself against your leotard and fishnet combination, chasing his own high. 

Soap joined you, dancing in front of you, lacing his legs between yours, dancing even closer to you than Gaz. He looped one arm around your neck, and he threaded the other around your waist, moving his hips in time with the beat, drinking another cupful of tequila when he got the chance. 

Ghost was behind him, and he began peeling off the lycra onesie, revealing Soap’s broad chest to you, rubbing him down with his hands, playing with his nipples in front of the entire base.

Had you been in your right mind, you would’ve balked at such behavior. But, for some reason, it felt right. You wanted to touch him, too. So, you did. 

You reached out in front of you and ran your hands down his belly, lowering the zipper even further, feeling his heated skin.

“Mmf-fuck,” Ghost moaned, “Tha’s hot.”

Soap seemed to agree, his arching erection obvious through the thin, red outfit. 

Gaz’s hands moved from your ass to your tits, squeezing them as he pulled your body against him, thrusting himself against you to the rhythm of the drum and bass, letting you feel his incredible length across your backside. 

“Look at these, mate,” Gaz cooed in your ear, talking to the other boys, massaging your breasts and pulling at the fabric of your leotard until it almost let your heavy tits fall out. 

“Gaz… what’s…” You tried to clear your mind, “What’s gotten into you lads?”

Your lieutenant leaned forward across Soap’s shoulder and kissed you through his balaclava, moving his mouth into yours, letting you feel the outline of his full lips. You tried to kiss him back, using your hands to flip up the edge of his mask, finding his chin and cheek, moving over so you could taste him properly. 

He was full of that dark tequila, and a hint of his menthols, musky and manly in the most enticing way. When he pulled away, he went immediately to Soap’s neck, sucking on his flesh and making him moan aloud in the middle of the dance floor. 

Suddenly, a large, strong hand gripped your face and turned you towards him, kissing you full on the mouth. His beard and mustache were the only giveaways that it was your captain, feeding you his tongue and choking you with it greedily. 

What was happening? This was insane. Something was wrong. What was in that drink?

“Cap,” you whispered when he allowed you space for a breath, “What’s happening?”

“Need you, love. Need you right fuckin’ now.”

Gaz’s hands reached into your leotard, around your cotton cat tail, and tugged at the gusset. The button snaps popped, revealing your ass, covered only in fishnets. He dug his fingers into the large holes of the fishnet leggings and pulled, ripping them apart, making room for his fingers to sink themselves into your dripping hole. 

You fell forward, grabbing onto Johnny’s shoulders, loving the way Gaz’s hand felt as he moved it inside of you, each finger was like its own challenge, delving into you and reaching for your soft spots.

“Fuck, she’s wet,” Gaz revealed, and you felt your cheeks warm with shame.

Soap smiled down at you, reaching between your legs on his own accord,

“Oh? Is that so, bonnie girl?”

He touched you right beside Gaz, both of their hands vying for position, sometimes shoving their fingers into you at the same time As Gaz would pull away, Soap would bully his knuckles forward, swiping up into you like a greedy thief, reaching for more of your silky wetness. Then, Gaz would return, playing at your clit and then feeding two of his fingers inside of you again, stretching you to make room for both his and Johnny’s eager hands, not caring who was there first or whether or not you were enjoying yourself. 

You were enjoying yourself. But, that was beside the point. Weren’t you at a party? What were you doing before this? There were other people around, right?

But, they suddenly didn’t matter. Price tugged down your shoulder strap to reveal your breast. He marveled at the puffy nipple, pebbled and waiting for his mouth. He bent and began to suckle from you, feeding his other hand across your chest, groping you under the fabric of your outfit as he pulled you into his mouth.

Johnny’s ragged moan cut through the fog of your pleasure, and you looked up at him. He was nearly naked, his devil horns the only thing left from the waist up, and Ghost was kneeling behind him, his mask pushed up, eating his sergeant’s asshole and spreading his cheeks apart cruelly. 

You reached down to feel Soap’s cock, and it was leaking through the fabric, barely concealed anymore by the costume. You pulled him free, jerking him off, smearing his glossy precome all over his pulsing, pink head. 

Price grew tired of your clothing, and he began to rip your costume away from you. Gaz helped him, pulling and tugging and tearing at the fabric. You were left in your fishnets and heels, stumbling between the men surrounding you, feeling the tequila worm its way into your core, stirring your body and making you yearn to be fucked by their heavy pricks. 

Gaz was the first to press himself into you. You were shoved forward, your face smashed into Johnny’s furry belly, his sweat painting your cheek, and Gaz held you in place. He gripped your hips with a painful clutch of his hands, and he swiped his dick through your lips, back and forth, coating himself in your wet warmth. Then, that familiar, aching stretch, and he was inside of you, humping his cock into you deeper and deeper, filling the empty space within your core. 

“Holy fuck,” Price purred, grabbing you by your hair at the nape of your neck.

He pulled you toward him, his fat prick in his hands, and fed himself into your mouth, shoving your head down onto his shaft, choking you with his girth. 

Soap pulled you from him, giving you the same treatment, and you could taste the salty precome that he was leaking with, using the momentum of Gaz fucking you to find a rhythm with your mouth. 

They took turns using you, moving you back and forth, fucking your throat until it burned, pushing you further and further down until your nose was buried in their dense curls, tickling you with the matted fur at the root of their cocks. All you could do was swallow and try to breathe, but it was little use. You were drooling all over them, unable to control your body and its desperate attempt to prepare you for their huge pricks. 

Gaz had ripped an orgasm from you twice, making you scream around the base of Price’s cock, shoving his thumb into your twitching, tight asshole as his cock ruined your pussy. He was well and truly gone, at this point. His grunting was like that of a beast, and you could feel the sweat dripping off of him and onto your back. 

Ghost grew tired of tasting Johnny’s asshole, and now he was fucking him in shallow, huffing thrusts. Every time he would push himself further into his hole, Johnny would leak a little more, his come running down his shaft like sap from a huge trunk, sticky and sweet and endless. 

You were in the middle of tasting Johnny’s dripping head when you felt Gaz bottom out inside of you. Then, he shouted out a long, whining, rumble as he pumped you full of his come. You felt it spilling out of him, pouring into your cunt, spraying rope after rope of his seed into your walls, soaking your hole, desperate to seep into your womb.

Price all but shouldered Gaz out of the way, manhandling your body until you were wrapped in his arms, your legs slung over each giant bicep, and you were being lowered onto his impossible phallus. 

“I… I can’t…” You protested, unsure of whether or not you would survive whatever your captain had to give you.

“You will,” he purred darkly, his voice demonic in its timbre, “Oh, baby, you will.”

He slipped his head into your hole, but that was all that slipped. Everything else was an uphill battle. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to take some of the weight off of your core, but it was no use, he was using his heavy hands to pull you down onto him, squeezing himself inside inch by agonizing inch. You said a prayer of thanks to whatever sick gods were watching your debasement that he was not as long as Kyle.

You hissed in a breath when he reached a new level of thickness that your body had never experienced before.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed in your ear, “Be a good girl, love. Relax for me.”

His hands readjusted, moving lower to pull your cheeks apart, and he used his middle finger to dip into your asshole, playing in Gaz’s dripping come, swirling it around the puckered rim, teasing you by prodding you with shallow thrusts of his finger.

It was enough to distract you from what he was doing to your poor pussy, and he shoved himself in to the base, shocking you enough that your blood ran cold. You held your breath, unable to even cry out. It was as if you were a machine that had been unplugged. You were gone. Your captain had fucked your mind right out of your head. 

“That’s it. There she is,” he smiled sinisterly, pumping himself in and out, using your own weight to fuck you on his heavy rod. 

Two, greedy hands reached around to grope your breasts, grabbing them roughly, pinching your nipples until you whimpered and squirmed. Johnny was behind you, being fucked hard by Ghost, teasing your heavy breasts and rubbing his cock against your ass. 

Price’s hands were in the way, but when he felt Johnny’s cock, he positioned you so that his sergeant could reach. Then, you felt Johnny’s slick cockhead writhe its way inside the very brink of your asshole. He was so close to coming, it didn’t take much depth to take him there. As Simon fucked him, he thrust himself up into you, stretching your hole, unable to fit inside as deep as he would’ve liked with Price in the way. There was just no room. 

Johnny came in you messily and with total abandon. He bit down on your shoulder, keening and groaning, spending himself inside your asshole and letting it drool out of you as he left you there, warring with Price and his weapon.

Ghost let Johnny sink to the floor, and he took his place behind you. He was as tall as the captain, and his cock was almost as large, but there was no gentle rubbing like what Johnny had given you. Simon spread you wide, making you cry out from the way you were being spread apart, your cunt desperately clenching around Price, trying to find a way to hold onto something, anything. Then, he fed his cock inside your asshole, wet already from Johnny’s greedy core, shoving and pushing and squeezing his way beside Price, not taking any sort of laws of physics too seriously.

He began to kiss your neck, staying perfectly still and buried in you to the hilt, letting Price do all the work. The captain kissed you on the other side, biting you and leaving huge red marks where his teeth were too mean on your tender flesh. 

“Too fuckin’ tight,” Ghost complained, moaning into your skin.

“Knew she could take it,” Price smiled, kissing your slack mouth.

“Needy slag,” your lieutenant growled, leaving marks of his own all across your throat. 

He was playing with your tits, pinching your nipples between his forefinger and thumb, holding them up and out, making you feel like you were trapped in his hands. Then, he would knead them, feeling the weighty softness, enjoying your vulnerability, revelling in your corruption. 

Price’s thick cock was moving you both, shoving and bullying Simon’s dick through the thin flesh between your holes, making his masked officer harden like a stone inside of you. 

“M’gonna come in you,” Ghost promised, whispering against your earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. 

You could only cry out, your brain too fuck-drunk to make any words. Sluts didn’t need words. They just needed to come hard and clench their tight little holes around these two, huge cocks. You were nothing more than a hole to be filled. 

Simon thrust in opposite motions from Price, moving himself through your asshole at an absurd speed, fucking you into a shuddering orgasm, and blowing his load deep inside your belly. You could feel its creamy warmth, and as he pulled out of you, you felt it drip from your gaping hole, mixing with Johnny’s fallen seed on the floor. 

Price was still pounding away, brute that he was. Now that he was alone, he lay you on the crate beside him and held your knees open wide, splaying your thighs apart and staring at his cock as it thrust through your folds. 

You were moaning like a paid whore, coming in waves, your whole body feeling the effects of your pleasure, full of come and hungry for more. 

Suddenly, the music kicked off with a thud and you heard laughter coming from across the room.

“Déjame adivinar…” Alejandro’s rude tone came through loud and clear, “You filthy perritos got into my Damiana, verdad?”

Rudy reached behind the crates that Gaz and Soap were leaning against, panting, sweating, and covered in come. Then, he pulled out the bottle, half-empty. He let out a low, pitying whistle, watching as Price buried himself in you with loud, wet slapping noises filling the room, 

“No mames, güey,” he shook his head, showing Alejandro the bottle, “Mira. They’ll be hard until next week.”

“Mierda!” Alejandro cursed your group, all worn out in your pitiful states, “This was expensive stuff. I had it made by a bruja! Extra strong. You owe me, pendejos.”

Their crackling laughter made your head spin, and as you listened to the pounding of flesh on flesh, you knew you were in for a long fucking night.

Hope you enjoyed this year's Kinktober adventure! Thanks for sticking around. Happy Halloween, everyone!

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving me a like or a comment to let me know. As always, reblogs are deeply appreciated. Want more from me? Check my AO3 profile. I have over 100 COD fics! (I know, crazy.) Discord: @californicationist

[harleehazbinfics]

since i loved that catalastor drabble so much i thought why not duplicates of catalastors 😂😂 cannibal!Y/N kept it a secret and suddenly the hotel is overflowed with catalastor to the point alastor just grabs y/n (bridal style) to somehwere private or somewhere 😂 just a random thought because i love catalastor so much

More Fucking Cats

Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

"mew"

"What was that sound?" Alastor asks shifting his gaze from his newspaper to you who suspiciously had your back on the closet.

"N-nothing!" you nervously replied trying to set a smile on your face.

He cranes his head disliking how you lied to him. Your sweat drips down your back as he walks forward towards you making your heart squeeze both in guilt and lovesick. You point your gaze at his hooves with a pout.

"(y/n), move."

You hesitantly move from the closet door and hide behind him. Trying tug him gently away from the door to save yourselves from the chaos that will ensue.

When Alastor opens the door, his eyes meet a pair of red beady ones. With a single blink, multiple pairs of red eyes appear, making you gulp and tug at Alastor's coat harder. He immediately catches you in his arms as he disappears onto his shadow and outside the hotel.

"What the fuck is--"

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"KITTIES!"

"THERE'S SO MANY CATS!"

"(Y/N)!!!"

Both you and Alastor reappear at his studio where you were safe from the mob of angry cats and/or Vaggie. You gave Alastor a guilty smile trying to gain some sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Sir," you apologize while pouting.

He sighs and holds you tighter while he had you in a bridal style hold.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't lie to me," he says bumping heads with you.

Lovestruck from the affectionate action, you held back your squeal and nodded your head, unsure if you could lower your voice if you opened your mouth.

🔗TAGLIST:

@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @kimmis-stuff, @lucifers-silhouette, @kimmis-stuff, @bontensbabygirl, @janey, @akiqvq, @wonderlandangelsposts, @azullynxx

[soap-ify]

PUP!SOAP INFLUENCING PUP!READER TO BREAK THE RULES SK HE CAN WATCH THEM GET PUNISHED BY PRICE/GHOST SINCE HES JEALOUS SHES GETTING SM ATTENTION FROM HIM

screaming because your mind !!! soap is such a little shit. we love to see it.

very much a part of poly!141 au with owner!price and pups!reader, ghost, gaz and soap btw !!

cw 18+, alcohol, spanking, no real fucking just suggestive stuff here and there, very price x soap x reader focused.

soap tried to be nice, he really did.

it was just that you were swallowing everyone’s attention, especially price’s, leaving him all alone in the corner. feeling sickeningly neglected.

he knew he was being selfish, the attention he got from the other two pups and price never decreased. yet here he was, royal blue eyes glaring at the way ghost would let you nuzzle against his ears, or the way gaz would brush your tail ever so gently while you would happily give him ear scratches, or the way price would let you sleep on his lap.

why were you getting all the attention?

he was just a very greedy pup.

price had this one rule that all his four pups had to follow — never get drunk late at night if on the base. for the sake of attentiveness during trainings and missions.

it was a very simple rule that you had easily respected so far alongside the others. though soap was keen on changing that tonight.

“c’mere, lass. need yer help with something.” he pawed at you gently while you were sleeping on your bed, coaxing you awake, all confused and sleepy as he led you out of your quarters, both of you making sure to be quiet as you tiptoed your way behind him, eventually reaching his room.

confusion struck you when he handed you a bottle of bourbon, grabbing one for himself. “johnny, we aren’t supposed to drink…” you mumbled nervously.

“hush. ye will be fine. no one will find us, eh? s’our wee secret. plus i was really bored. needed company of a sweet bonnie like ye.” he assured you, a wolfish smirk adorning his lips, his words somehow easing your nerves since you trusted him.

minutes passed by as you drank the bourbon, getting more and more drunk, not even realising that soap hadn’t touched his bottle at all.

-

“i tried to stop them, but they weren’t listenin’ to me at all!” johnny huffed innocently, snuggling against price while the captain glared daggers at your hunched and nervous form, seated on the couch inside his office.

your bad hangover was too apparent throughout the training and price was clearly concerned for your wellbeing.

until soap spilled it all out, not mentioning how he was the one who told you to get drunk.

you whimpered and chewed on your bottom lip nervously, feeling betrayed and humiliated at the sergeant’s little snitching act, your tail tucked behind you nervously and ears hung low.

“c-captain, i didn’t mean to…” your weak voice fell to deaf ears as price stood up and walked over to you, settling down on the couch before harshly pulling you down onto his lap.

you whined sadly, face buried into his thick clothed thighs while you obediently pushed your ass up, his fingers roughly undoing your pants and pulling them down, leaving only your panties on you.

“such a fuckin’ bad pup. couldn’t even follow a simple rule.” he clicked his tongue in irritation, one hand holding your face down, fingers tightly laced with the strands of your hair while his other hand gently rubbed the soft flesh of your ass, callused fingers grazing against your skin before he delivered a harsh slap, not holding back at all.

a choked sob left your lips, eyes stinging with incoming tears as you sniffled and tried to not squirm, heat rising within your skin.

slap. slap. slap. you had mentally lost count on how many you got before he finally let go, roughened up hands gently rubbing your poor beaten up ass, panties all soaked and neglected.

you were a mess — lips wet with drool and cheeks all tear streaked, hair messy and sticking to your forehead while your glossy eyes distantly tried to look around, finally catching soap in the corner, a shit-eating grin plastered on his lips while having a visible boner, his eyes admiring the raging hand marks on your skin. soap was such a fucking bastard. what you didn't know was that he liked you better when you were a punished, sobbing mess.

price felt a bit guilty for being so mean despite you clearly having broken a rule, his hands slowly cupping your face and bringing you up, looking at the way you nervously hicced and cried, mumbling soft apologies over and over.

he couldn’t understand why you would break a rule. you were such a sweet pup! all new and sweet in the taskforce, everyone’s favourite.

but you were so dumb too, not complaining about soap at all, not wanting the other pup to get in danger.

-

once price did find out about soap’s little act (he never told anyone how), he made sure to give you extra special treatment the whole week while keeping the sergeant locked up.

ghost and gaz just watched from the sidelines, not feeling any remorse for soap. they would never mess with a cute pup like you anyways.

soap was a sad horny mess, thinking that at least ghost would sneak the pup out. but even his lieutenant was a meanie, and so was gaz — both visiting the cage and snickering at him the whole week while you got to be spoiled rotten by price.

[screamingviridianforest]

How would task force 141 react to the reader giving them puppy eyes (🥺)when they want something?

AND how would task force 141 go about getting the reader to do something for them? Would they get payback and use the puppy eyes as well? or do they have some other method?

Ahhh this is such a cute idea!! I love these sort of asks. This is gonna be quite long

Gaz - he doesn't immediately fold to the puppy eyes, but they do weaken his resolve by quite a bit. With enough pleading and over the top dramatics, he folds quite quickly.

~

"Pleeeease?" You ask, holding up your phone to show some online shop selling something you've been after for ages. A soft plush that has a giant blanket inside. "It would be perfect for movie nights!"

Kyle sighs, "c'mon, love, we have enough blankets and plushes around the house for movie night now."

And when you pull out the puppy eyes with some more soft pleading, he just sighs.

~

Though, when he wants something, he's more sly about it. He 100% uses that charisma to get what he wants without puppy eyes, and he's so smooth about it. It almost makes you mad.

Soap - Folds. Immediately. No hesitation. Your puppy eyes are his greatest weakness and you know it.

~

"Look at her! I could use a companion while you're on missions!" You show him the newspaper listing that someone was selling kitties.

"No, bonnie! I don't want to have to share you with some wild cat!" Johnny pouts at the idea, crossing his arms.

And when you pull out the puppy eyes, he's immediately calling the listed phone number. One would be fine, he supposes.

~

This man would definitely use puppy eyes to his advantage in return. You don't fold quite as quickly as he does, but you still do eventually. It's a win-win, really.

Ghost - I mean, he was more than likely going to buy you whatever you wanted anyway, so the puppy eyes just speed it up. He likes showering you in gifts because he knows he isn't always the best with words. Though, the gifts are meaningful(mostly)

~

"Si!" You shout from across the apartment, running to show Simon what you had just found. "Si! Si! Si!"

"Woah, dove-" Simon grabs your waist, stopping you in your tracks. "What's got you in a hurry?"

"Look!" You shove your phone to his face, your screen showing off a matching pajama set. "I want matching pajamas with you!"

And you already do, but you want another pair so you don't waste any time using your best puppy eyes.

Simon sighs, "Alright, giv' it here, I'll get 'em."

~

When he wants something, he just asks for it straight up. He doesn't ask for much so you know if he's voicing it, however nonchalantly, he must really want it. He spoils you so why can't you return the favor?

Price - Does NOT work on him. He finds it more amusing than anything. Even if you know it doesn't work, you still always try because what if it does work some day?

~

"John, can we stop at that new restuarant?" You ask, pointing it out as the two of you walk around the city.

It was date night, and he was already planning on taking you somewhere even nicer, though you didn't know that.

"Not tonight, luvie," John replies, squeezing your hand. "I have somewhere else for us."

"Oh, please?" You plead softly, pulling out your puppy eyes. "I really want to try it with you tonight."

"Not tonight, maybe some other time," he chuckles softly, "now c'mon, we've got to keep walking if we plan on making it in time."

~

This. Man. Does. Not. Ask. For. ANYTHING. You basically have to pry it out of him, and even then, it's a fight. He just wants to spoil you, and he does not want you spending your hard earned money on him. That's your money, not his. Still, getting him to talk after a few heavy-handed glasses of whiskey is pretty easy.

[1-ker0sene-1]

Would you consider writing for a reader with face blindness and the other ways they have to identify the boys with?

Like whenever they just freshly walk into a room the reader has to stare at them for a moment until they say something or until they spot the part of them they use to identify them, then they get all happy to see them.

I just think it’d be really cute and face blindness is never a disability I see anything for, it lacks a lot of representation but affects a lot of people. Living with face blindness is a serious struggle, because even if someone is family, they’ll always wear the face of a stranger

{I don't mind at all! I did have to do a little research, as I personally was pretty curious at how somebody with this disability sees faces. If I got anything wrong please let me know! ♥️ As always I hope you're having a lovely day anon♥️}

Price

It took John some getting used to. Not that he doesn't try to accommodate, he just often forgets you don't see the way he does. He's so caught up in loving on you, he doesn't really mind whether you see him. So when he's meeting up with you on dates, coming over to sit at the table where you're already waiting for him.

Seeing that pretty face of yours contort into confusion and even a bit of nervousness makes his brows raise.

"I um.. I'm waiting for someone-"

You mumble out to what you assume may be a stranger.

"Are you now Darlin'?"

John chuckles, reaching to hold your hand from across the table. Lifting it to kiss your knuckles, blue eyes softening at you.

"I'm right here."

Gaz

Kyle would get used to it pretty quickly, trying to find ways for you to recognize him easily. Fuck he'll wear a goddamn cat collar if you ask him to. He won't want you to feel bad for it either.

"You don't need to see me lovie.. you know me. You feel me. And you've done a hell of a job loving me."

He mumbles, if you still feel bad- he'll take your hands and place them on his face. Telling you to just close your eyes and feel.

Anytime he sees the confusion starting in your eyes he tilts his head and cheekily tells you.

"The best boyfriend-"

"Kyle!"

He grins when he gets to watch your reaction to him. It's kind of ethereal.. He gets to see in real time the love bloom across your features. It hits him to, just falls for you everytime he sees it.

Soap

Luckily, Johnny can never really sneak up on you, purely cause he can't keep his mouth shut around you. He didn't even know for the longest time before you outright told him of your disability. He always calls out first, with that Scottish accent and slang, he's pretty recognizable. Between his call outs of-

"Bonnie!"

"Aye there's my lass.."

"Where you ofta' hen?"

Followed by being swiftly scooped up or pulled into his arms. You will have to explain the condition, he's gonna ask questions. Not that he has any doubts, he's just incredibly curious at how you see the world. He'll listen to every word as you describe it, holding your hand to his cheek. Your thumb brushes over the scar on his chin.

Ghost

Personally I believe Simon would be the most effortlessly accommodating. As soon as he finds out you have this disability, he finds a pretty good solution in his eyes. His balaclava. Not many wear a skull balaclava in fucking daylight. So often he wears it until you at least see him, just so you don't panic and can somewhat recognize him better. Then he'll slip it off.

There's maybe a couple times he doesn't wear it. Most likely he just forgot, arriving home. His stealth can sometimes be a curse when you can't recognize him. Poor doll. Nearly jumped out of your skin seeing some big guy in the corner of the room.

"Fuck- it's me love- jus' me."

He does feel bad about it. But the way your eyes light at his voice never fails to make him smile. Tugging you into his arms. Mumbling an apology for scaring you as he kisses across your skin.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x You

Summary: It was supposed to be an entertaining evening. Boxing fights, booze and party. It wasn't supposed to be one of the worst days of your life. || Featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 4.5k

TW: angst+++, alteration of canon events, canonical violence, depictions of slaughter and body horror, main character death, Reader's husband dying, suicidal thoughts, graphic murder. Parts in bold are direct quotes from the show. Parts in Italics are direct quotes from preceding chapters. Also, Tommy will take more space in the next chapters.

Notes:

✞ Shorter chapter because it's extremely violent and angsty. Also, I'm super rusty so I tried to write it in a more direct style so it's prolly less poetic and beautiful.

✞ This is chapter 16 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The extraordinary general meeting of the Shelby Ladies Club.

This is what Polly called this unexpected little meeting in the bathroom right in the middle of the rigged fight happening a few rooms away. When you entered the lavatory with Ada complaining about the sparring between Goliath and Bonnie, Aunt Pol was taking a cigarette from the silver case she was holding while Lizzie was fixing her hair.

“I love your messy bun, Heaven.” Lizzie complimented when she saw your reflection in the mirror she was using.

“Thank you Liz. Ada scolded me and decided that it would be a better hairstyle for tonight.”

“You never style your hair except for braids and it’s a fucking shame considering how beautiful and long your white mane is.” The young Shelby sister insisted.

“If you say so,” You snorted, amused, “What are you doing here? Plotting and scheming? Leave these for Thomas.” You smirked, sitting on the edge of a sink with movements as nimble as a cat. Your little cutting remark had the expected effect: the three girls laughed with sincerity, somewhat amused by the beef between you and the family’s boss. They had eventually learned that nothing could ever ease the tension between the two of you, so laughing about the matter was the only thing they could do. A part of you couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t find it that amusing anymore if they knew the unhealthy turn your mutual hatred had taken.

What did you feel when we kissed? A shiver ran down your spine as you heard Tommy’s husky voice, as charming as venomous, whispering in your ear. It might only have been a memory, but you could almost feel his hot whisky breath brushing your skin.

“Heaven has some news.” Polly’s voice resounded in the bathroom, snatching you from your thoughts.

“Me?” You asked, batting your bambi lashes in incomprehension before the understanding of the situation slapped you right in the face.

“Well, tell her. Now! While the men are screaming for blood.”  Polly sneaked a cigarette between her thin, red lips. 

Your blood momentarily froze in your pale veins for this unexpected pregnancy wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. For sure Aunt Pol didn’t mean to do harm, but the surrounding chaos and your last encounter with Luca Changretta seriously eroded your wish to have a baby. The baby who made you so vulnerable during times that were anything but good. Moreover, a quick glance at Lizzie’s sad and anxious eyes had been enough for you to understand that something was weighing on her shoulders. Something you had guessed for a few days. Something she needed to talk about more than you. The corner of your mouth turned up in a half-smile.

“Well, I discovered something about Lizzie but I think she should be the one making the announcement. Shouldn’t you, Lizzie?” You winked, replacing one of your long white strands of hair behind your pierced ear with a naive pout. Glitters of hope and gratefulness suddenly sparkled in the ocean blue of the secretary’s eyes to whom you replied with a discreet nod before grabbing Polly’s cigarette case.

“I’m up the duff. And it’s Tommy’s.”

You took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke by your nostrils as the attention was now on Lizzie. Even though Ada almost choked on her sip of gin, she quickly showed interest in the tall woman’s pregnancy. The only one you didn’t fool was old and cunning Aunt Pol who gave you a brief “okay I get it” glance before turning back to Lizzie.

It’s a girl. Call her Ruby. Ruby Shelby. She’ll be a star in a Hollywood movie.

You watched the scene with a light smile floating upon your plump and glossy lips, satisfied by the outcome of your little trick as well as the surprising unconditional support Lizzie was receiving after years of being seen only through her job as a prostitute. Admittedly, the reason behind the little push you gave to Lizzie Stark was purely selfish, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you kind of liked the woman despite never really interacting with her. She got the attention, and you got peace. It was a win-win situation.

“Congratulations, Lizzie.” You said, your siren-like voice as soft as a lazy ocean.

“She’s a real Shelby lady now. Just like you, Devil.”  Polly’s smirk betrayed her amusement. You rolled your eyes teasingly before proudly showing your left hand and wiggling your small fingers to display the magnificent wedding ring Arthur had gifted you.

“What about you Hev? When are you planning to give us a little Arthur?” Ada suddenly asked, Lizzie's news had visibly rendered her sour mood better.

“I think one Arthur is enough for now, don’t you?” You got up from the sink and carefully smoothed the folds your revealing black dress, “Anyway. Ladies, let’s rejoin our gentlemen.”

“I guess the meeting is over.” Ada added with a little chuckle

Joining deeds to words, Polly gently hooked her arm with yours in a motherly gesture and guided you outside, where the crowd’s roars were echoing.

Laughs and cheers filled the room as Johnny Dog put on a show to get more men to bet on the winner of this fight. Swallowing a mouthful of gin, your seraphic traits turned into a wince at the burning sensation the alcohol left in your throat – that new batch was strong, indeed. The sweet taste that exploded on your tastebuds, when the tip of your rosy tongue licked your juicy lips, made you grin, or maybe it was the all-consuming smell of sweat and blood that lingered in the air. It might come off as surprising for other women, but you enjoyed watching fights. There was something brutal but so real about them. After all, humans were just animals wearing suits. Animals which, according to you, had barely learned to speak instead of growling.

Your lips pinched the cigarette as you took another drag you quickly blew, your eyes following blood spurting from Bonnie’s nose and splattering the ground. Although quieter than Polly, Lizzie, and Ada, who were laughing, screaming, and sometimes nudging you in excitement at each violent blow the Romani boy gave back to his opponent, you had a lot of fun. Until a peculiar but familiar feeling blossomed within.

It started with a chill creeping down your spine and ended up with light tremors shaking your frail silhouette. Instinctively, you raised your piercing gaze and searched for Arthur somewhere among the crowded rows of folded seats. Your usual calm demeanor faltered as you noticed that your husband seemed troubled by something, rapidly glancing from here and there, attempting to read the room for whatever reason. He didn’t even pay attention to you, far too busy observing the men that were around the boxing ring. Eventually, Arthur stood up and left, his steel blue eyes fixed on someone he followed through the depths of the building. Let me do my fucking job! That’s what he barked at Tommy, or at least what you thought you overheard.

You frowned as a strange sensation rippled through your mind – like a distant, haunting whisper of something looming, a threat. Nervously swallowing your saliva, your first reflex was looking at Tommy. You couldn’t place it, but the odd feeling gripped you tightly like an omen you couldn’t shake, warning you of an approaching storm. It seemed like little King Shelby shared your inner agitation though, for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes dived into yours with the same nervousness and incomprehension. Whatever the many reasons behind your hatred, you were definitely on the same wavelength at this very moment. The silent conversation, expressed through brief eyebrows and eye movements, was more or less the following:

-Where is he going?

-I don’t know. It’s prolly the booze and the pills.

-It’s not. I’ll check.

-Don’t fucking do that.

You stood up from your seat with a clenched jaw and, feeling the vibration of this bad omen quaking your soul itself, you nimbly snaked in and out through seats and followed Arthur’s steps. As was the case for your husband a few minutes ago, the dark corridor into which you rushed engulfed your ethereal silhouette like a hungry giant.

“Fuck.” Tommy mumbled, straightening on his seat and leaning forward, “Fuck.” He repeated, torn between his own doubts and his disdain for you. Nevertheless, if there was one thing he had learned since you joined the family was that your gut feelings were never wrong. You proved it several times, starting by foreseeing Charlie’s abduction. The dark-haired gangster sniffed and nervously rubbed his chin, his catlike eyes going back on forth between the corridor and the crowd. A few minutes later, Tommy finally left the fighting pit.

Something was definitely off.

Cautiously walking through the maze of dark hallways dimly lit by a bluish light, you tried to ignore the maddening beat of your heart that was drumming so loud you felt it hammering in your temples. You didn’t really know where you were heading, nor where Arthur went, but the more you moved forward, the more this unbearable feeling of dread and panic invaded you. Your aimless wandering came to an end when the strong and metallic smell of fresh blood and the atrocious sight that followed jumped at your face.

No.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw him – your husband, slumped on the ground, blood soaking through the collar of his shirt as it gushed from the wound across his throat.

No!

Time seemed to slow down, and your heart seemed to stop as you took in the scene: the gun the Italian bastard was holding in his steady hand aimed at Arthur’s head.

Panic crashed over you like a tidal wave, washing away everything but the rage that had piled up within you during all these years. In that moment, something primal and destructive snapped inside of you. In a blur of rage and raw instinct, and with a guttural scream that seemed too inhumane to come from you, you launched yourself at the mafioso, who barely had the time to turn around. Another furious shriek escaped from your quivering lips, similar to the rabid screech of a wounded banshee, and with your fingers curled into claws, your sharp nails slashed across his face.  

“PUTTANA!” The man yelled and gasped, taken aback by your unleashed fury.

The mafioso fired with his gun in a desperate attempt to kill you but the brutal impact between your two bodies threw him off balance and the shot reached the wall instead of your brain. As his spine crashed against the tiled ground, Changretta’s henchman dropped the weapon. You gave it a brutal blow to make it slide away from him.

Another wave of insults followed as he realized that he struggled to overpower you. You were fighting like a cornered animal, wild and relentless. Your claws scratched him again and again, leaving raw and jagged lines of blood all over his face. The mafioso's strength was starting to falter as he realized that you weren’t just fighting to win; you were fighting to kill him, your body moved by the instinct of a bloodthirsty beast that refused to be caged.

"Stop it, you fucking bitch!" A scream of utter pain brutally tore the air as, completely out of your mind, you dug your thumbs into his skull, pushing harder and harder in an attempt to gouge his eyes. The Sicilian man produced a second sound so twisted that it seemed beyond anything a human throat could produce. The more you pushed with your thumbs, the more you felt his eyeball turning into a viscous pulp. The feeling of the moist and warm liquid on your fingers didn’t stop you. Nor the man’s wails of pure agony, with its pitch far too high and too broken.

“Ajùtami! Ajùtami!” He pleaded, his hands felt the ground in panic, searching for anything he could use to push you away from him. Anything to make you stop. Realizing that nothing was around him, not even the thread he used to attack Arthur, he managed to overcome the pain and gather his strength to grab your throat.

With your air squeezed, you wheezed and removed your fingers from his skull to claw his strong hands. “S-Stop!” Panic flooded you as your vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The harder you fought, the harder he strangled you. Seriously lacking air, you clawed at his arms, desperate to breathe, but his grip was iron. Now you had to do something and do it quickly if you wanted to have a chance to save Arthur.

Your thoughts raced, frantic, until instinct took over.

I love your messy bun, Hev!

The judas stick – now you had a chance. With one quick movement, you brought your hand to your bun and your fingers fumbled for the sharp metal judas stick that was holding your hair in place. It came in handy. With a choked sound, you drove it upward and sunk the sharp edge of the stick into the man’s side.

One time.

Two times.

Three, four, five, six…

Side, chest, shoulder, face… 

Each impact was vicious and powerful, tearing through the flesh like butter and drilling into organs and bones with the sheer will of maiming your enemy. Hot blood splashed all over you and around, but you didn’t care. The only thing that made you stop stabbing him was when you felt the man’s grip loosen around your throat until his arms dropped on the red-smeared ground in a loud thud.

“Fuck!” You sucked in a sharp breath, your voice hoarse from being choked. However, you quickly got up from the corpse to run to your husband.  “Arthur!” You screamed, rushing to his side, your hands trembling as you knelt beside him – or rather as you dropped to your knees, your legs unable to support your weight anymore. Panic seized you even more violently as you saw Arthur's deep wound and the blood—too much blood.

“No, no, no… not like this,” You whispered, voice cracking. You couldn’t lose him, not here, not now. Never. Your fingers brushed over his chest and, in your deepest desperation, you looked for his pulse. A pulse you found, but which was becoming slower and fainter as seconds flew by. “Arthur! Please!” You started sobbing, tears streaming down your face and mixing with the fresh blood that was painting your skin in a disgusting shade of red. You had to face the truth: Arthur was dying. The damages were too serious and the bleeding too much… But you were a witch. The gift of healing was coursing through your veins. The only problem was that if you tried to save him by using your magic, you’d hurt the baby. After all, that was what happened when you tried to kill Luca Changretta with a heart attack.

The baby.

Your husband or the baby?

Your heart painfully raced in your chest. Your erratic breathing and your sore throat made you feel like you weren’t getting enough air.

 “I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

You could save him. You had to. Despite this torture of a dilemma and the harshness of the decision, nothing could change your mind, not even the feeling of your heart shattering into millions of shards. Closing your eyes, you placed one hand over his throat, the blood warm under your palm, and the other on his chest. Wasting no time, you channel all your strength – the connection sparked, and the raw, untamed magic you inherited from your mother surged through you. It seemed to work at first, his pulse lightly responding to yours.

But the more the magic surged, the more you felt a terrible pain in your belly. It started as cramps but quickly escalated into suffering so high that you felt like someone was stabbing you. A trembling squeal escaped from your red lips. You were killing it, you knew it. You were killing your own baby.

"Come on, come on," You muttered, pushing harder, forcing your will into his body. "Stay with me, Arthur," You whispered, tears streaking down your face, each sentence cut by muffled cries of the mafioso you had slaughtered and who was still alive— not for too long to be honest. He seemed to say something in Sicilian but you couldn't understand what. And you didn't care. "Just... stay with me." You gritted your teeth, doing your best to put up with the pain.

Click.

You froze.

“You nosey little slut. You should've stayed with the others.” 

Your heart missed a leap at the unknown male voice, carried by a thick Italian accent. The mafioso’s colleague looked at you, gun pointed right to your head.

"Remember me?" He asked with a wicked smile, recalling the moment he had offered you a cigarette a few hours ago. During your brief chit-chat, he told you that his name was Damiano but you didn't make the connection between Changretta and his Italian heritage.

“Don't cry, you're going to meet with your husband again very soon." the imposing man added, a few seconds away from ending your life. However, Damiano didn't know what you were capable of. Even less now that you were driven by pure rage and despair.

“Shut the fuck up!” You suddenly yelled, your claws firmly anchored in your husband to make Damiano understand that no one would snatch him from your arms. Your voice, a seductive melody that could enchant like a siren’s song, suddenly sounded monstrous. Raw and primal, the way you screamed the threat echoed in the entire maze of hallways and made Tommy’s blood freeze in his veins, a few corridors away. “Fucking die!”

Damiano didn't know that he never stood a chance. You sealed that man's demise with one blunt arm movement as if you had wanted to chase a mosquito from your face.  

"Wh-What..."

Damiano, fell on his knees next to his dying friend, and writhed on the floor. With his two hands pressing on his chest, he suddenly started to choke and, right after, threw up a great amount of thick blood. Apart from the vomiting, blood soon seeped from his eyes and ears, bubbling like something inside was boiling them alive.

"P-Please!" He begged but you didn't stop. The man obviously tried to scream but the only sound he could produce was disgusting gurgles.

"Don't worry, you're going to meet your friend pretty soon." You replied with a cold and sardonic tone before closing your fist, the man's lungs responding to your gesture by imploding in his chest. Like his colleague's arms did a few minutes ago, Damiano's whole body crashed against the floor with a thud.

Quickly, you shifted back your attention to your husband and kept giving him all your energy while ignoring the black dots that were dancing in front of your eyes, as well as the awful, unbearable stabbing sensation in your core. You were definitely hurting yourself by using your power that much but you didn't give a fuck. “Arthur, please.” You growled, a feeling of dizziness building up so bad that you didn’t even hear the hurried footsteps that were coming closer, nor the hoarse, familiar voice of your brother-in-law.

"FUCK!" You exclaimed. You were losing Arthur again.

The three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

The Peaky Blinder's boss took two steps back and brought his calloused hand to his mouth, fighting against the urge to puke – and God knew it took him a lot considering the atrocities he witnessed and did during the war. His turquoise gaze scanned the room, which had turned into a slaughterhouse. A fucking pool of crimson blood. First, he saw the limp and distorted corpse of Damiano, whose eyes were open wide in horror despite him being dead and cold. The terror in his frozen facial expression left no doubt about how awful his last moments must have been: he had suffered, and he had suffered more than a lot. Then, he caught a quick glimpse of the second victim. With his eyeballs reduced to a reddish foul mush, the lacerations on his face, and the abnormal number of stabbing wounds, the mafioso’s body was so maimed that it looked disgustingly grotesque.

Then he saw Arthur.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and pungent scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

Tommy reacted immediately and knelt near his brother with a panic so uncontrollable that it swept away every ounce of coldness and self-control he usually displayed. He slapped his brother's cheeks several times in a vain attempt to help him come back to a conscious state but it didn't work. Thomas Shelby's fist hit the floor with frustration as the feeling of powerlessness crept into his heart. He was losing another brother and there was nothing he could do to save him.

But you could.

"Heaven, d'ya hear me?"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses saturated with one unique sound: a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

“Oi! Listen to me!” Tommy’s powerful voice suddenly snatched you from your daze just enough time to catch your attention and plunge his turquoise iris into your Arctic eyes.

“I—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t...” You repeated in a whisper, just like a broken record, because your husband’s pulse was weakening again, blind to your exhausting and painful efforts. Arthur was dying, your baby was dying and the intensity of the pain you went through was so insufferable that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wait for death to make this nightmare stop.

Tommy rapidly shifted his body to be by your side, his sharp eyes focused, but softer than usual. “You’ve got this,” he whispered, meeting your panicked gaze. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” He pressed his hand firmly over yours, steadying the trembling fingers that worked to save his brother. His voice was low, gravelly, but laced with a quiet strength he tried to share with you. His grip was warm, grounding you in the chaos, his presence like an anchor. At that moment, the weight of the world felt momentarily lighter with him by your side. You replied to his help with a muffled sob.

"You've got this!" Tommy tried to keep you from falling apart but the sight of a thin trickle of blood slowly running down your nose worried him almost to death. He looked at you and he knew. He knew that you had given everything – every ounce of your energy to save his brother, your magic now drained. Your hand trembled, still pressed to Arthur’s chest, but the world around you was seriously fading to black.

Caught amid this Hell with Tommy by your side, you didn't hear nor feel Polly, who had found the crime scene.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him,

"We're fucking losing her too!" Tommy exclaimed, "fucking help me!"

"Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream one last time. A haunting and otherworldly wail that pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The smell of blood hid Tommy's musky perfume that was tingling your nostrils. The deafening ringing in your ears covered Polly and her nephew's voice. Your breaths came shallow and weak, your body becoming heavier as darkness crept in. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut. In one final movement, you collapsed beside your husband, your last thought a silent hope that he would live.

Or that you would at least die trying to save him.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature

[starl3ght]

141 + more with a reader that sleeps a lot

A/N: I’m back from the dead, haha Melanie Martinez kinnie. I have a cousin that sleeps till 3 in the afternoon like wtf😨 I live for these men. They’re fine as fuckkkkkkk I loved making this

Requests are open and follow for more <333

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Simon “Ghost” Riley

• He won’t be worried that much about you

• Maybe you’re just tired so he lets you do your own thing

• He respects you and what you just do around the house so he allows it

• But notices how you nap like every 3 hours a day and he gets concerned

• You just drop wherever. The couch, the living room floor, he found you outside in the grass one time.

• He throws a blanket over you each time and rubs his temple wondering what he’s gonna do with you

• “Love, you know this isn’t healthy right?”

• You had just woken up from your 4th nap.

• You look at him with your puppy eyes

• “But I’m tired”

• Don’t melt his heart, it makes him weak.

• “Trust me you’re gonna regret it, now up you go.”

• He’ll throw you over his shoulder and makes you do some random activities for you not to fall asleep.

John “Soap” Mactavish

• Might do the same thing but not much as you.

• He thinks it’s weird that you just close your eyes and stay dead for a few hours

• Might wake you up for fun

• He likes seeing you angry

• He sprayed you with the bottle one time. That wasn’t a good thing to do let’s just say.

• But seriously he is a bit concerned for you

• So when he walked into the literal, pitched black living room with the tv on and opened the blinds to the sunlight you hissed like some savage cat

• He only looks at you with a weird look

• “Jesus…alright, up and at em love.”

• You’ll just throw the blanket over your face again

• Ok, that’s how you wanna play it? He can play that game too

• He’ll grab your legs and drag you off the couch

• “No Johnny” you’re hugging a pillow against your face and he keeps dragging you “Not letting go that easy love. Now up.”

• He’ll pick you up putting your legs around his torso and your arms around his neck

• “We’re going out, dunno where but you’re done with your hobby for today bonnie”

• You went to Starbucks together( ˘ ³˘)♥

John Price

• Concerned as any parent would be

• Limits your sleeping time

• Has his alarm on his phone to wake you up

• “Love rise and shine, well technically it’s 4 in the afternoon so…”

• You’re still dead.

• He’ll stroke your face to wake you or just come back to existence💀

• Kisses your forehead and shakes your shoulder gently

• If you wake up he’s not letting you go back to sleep

• “You ready to stay up now love?”

• You violently shake your head no but he takes you to the living room so you can watch tv or read a book

• He needs you to be more active🤷‍♀️

• Might consider taking you to a doctor but tries to help you first

• Watches your sleeping habits well

• If it’s insomnia he’ll comfort you in his lap as you rant on about your sleeping issues

• He’ll make you sleep at the same time as him and takes you out to keep you busy or distracted.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

• Honestly it’s ok with him

• He just doesn’t like it when it happens for like a week straight

• 2-3 days is alright him because it’s a long tiring week so.

• When its 5 times every day he’s not allowing it

• Feels bad for waking you up

• “Baby?”

• You’re still in the world of dreams

• “Love, it’s time to wake up now”

• He uses that sweet soft voice you love so much

• But you won’t wake up

• He doesn’t know what to do that he might consider calling Price for help

• When you do wake up and look at him with your eyes with bags under his heart melts

• You must be having some issues

• He’ll make you sleep early so you’re ok for the next day

• He’ll take care of you, trust me

Alejandro Vargas

• Future husband mode activated

• Worries that waking you will get you angry

• But remembers it isn’t healthy

• So he uses your weaknesses to wake you up ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

• Mans kisses the crook of your neck and strokes your hair

• “Mi amor…wake up for me” That deep sweet voice he’s got for you

• You shift around in your sleep and open your eyes

• You just go to the bathroom and go back to the couch to sleep again

• He’s standing there frozen🧍

• “Ahora si, wake up mi vida.”

• He picks you up and that’s when you wake up

• You’ll slap his shoulder from anger

• “There we go…”

• He takes you to the bedroom and gives you a reason to be tired if you know what I mean🙂✨🌹

Rodolfo Parra

• AYYYY BABY😍😍😍😍

• He loves you too much

• He’s very worried for your health

• “Mi vida por favor, wake up.”

• You just won’t budge

• Worries a bit much now

• Like what if you’re staying up all night and he hasn’t noticed and so you sleep all day

• But that if that wasn’t the issue he would calm down

• You just sleep…like a lot

• Considers giving you melatonin for the night and taking you out the next day to have your energy

• He always gently touches you and when you wake he’ll give you something to eat

• He’s literally like a parent having to take care of you

• Will help you with your habits

König

• Won’t wake you up

• He’s scared

• Like what if you’re so peaceful and he upsets you from waking you up

• But reminds himself this is for your own good

•If you fall asleep on him then may he rest in piece.

• He’s not getting you off of him anytime soon and not easily

• Will nudge you shoulder hoping you open your eyes

• “Schatz??”

•You’re still sleeping. Are you even breathing??

• “Please wake up” oh now his voice is anxious

• “König what are you doing, it’s 8 in the morning”

• Wtf is wrong with you👁👄👁

• “Umm, meine liebe it’s 2 in the afternoon actually…”

• You reach out your arms like a baby wanting to be picked up

• So he does

• Picks you up gently as if you were the most fragile thing

• “Geliebte I think we should talk about your habits my dear.”

Alex Keller

• This mf let’s you do whatever you want

• He only gets curious when you’re in random places napping

• That’s when he realized it’s weird that you sleep a lot

• “Baby, you should’ve been awake 3 hours ago. It’s already 9 pm ”

• He’s literally standing in the living room and you’re on the carpet floor with a blanket over you

• Bro reaches for the blanket and throws it across the room and you wake up whining

• “Alex stop, let me sleep.”

• He gives you an almost offended look

• “It’s already been 5 years, it’s time for you to rise. Now go eat something”

• Drags you to the kitchen and makes you eat

• Now when it’s time for bed you don’t wanna sleep

• He’ll make you either way and holds you to his chest so you can’t escape

[angelcqre]

CoD TMA AU

ARCHIVIST

Statement of [Name Redacted], regarding her camping trip in The Grampian Mountains. Original statement given January Fifteenth, Two Thousand and Fifteen. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

Now, before you say anything, I know how I sound. I know that it was stupid to go out into the middle of uncharted wilderness and get piss drunk. Believe me, I'm not interested, the park ranger gave me an earful when he found me and the cops did the same. Especially now. But.. something happened, something bad, and if I don't - if I don't say it, I don't know. I'll explode.

So…

I'm not really an outdoors type. I'm an inside cat, I like to curl up with a good book and a cup of tea and my cat, but Farah insisted for her birthday that we go camping. She's always been like that - hiking, caving, camping, it's her thing, and when Farah wants something, she's set on it. Doesn't let it go, especially because she knows how to cash in favors.

So - we went. I didn't want to go, but we went. Me, Farah, her boyfriend, Alex, and her boyfriend's friend. John. I didn't really know him, but he seemed nice enough. We were supposed to spend a long weekend roughing it, three days and three nights for the holiday. We packed plenty of booze, plenty of food, all the proper first aid crap.. and we spent four hours hiking to what John said was the perfect spot.

He was strange from the get-go. A little too touchy-feely, a little too in your space, but he seemed… enthusiastic, I don't know. Eager. He was obviously passionate about it, kept stopping me to show me edible plants, poisonous mushrooms, whatever caught his eye. If it was notable, you'd best believe he was stopping to point it out. It was almost kind of cute, if it wasn't so.. feverish. [VOICE DROPS, ASSUMING SCOTTISH ACCENT.]

"Look, bonnie, look here," and he kept saying it, over and over. It felt like he was trying to prove something - like that he could take care of me, maybe? I don't know.

He just.. didn't stop. He had so much energy, kept moving, expression bright and eyes wild, kept insisting I call him Johnny. It wasn't.. flirting - I don't know what it was. Too familiar. He was so big, just this huge guy, looming over me, smiling with these insanely white teeth that..

Is it crazy to say they looked sharper than.. normal? I know, cliche, but they looked.. sharp. Like fangs. Whatever.

So we settle down on the first night, and of course we all start drinking, set some sausages over the fire, the whole deal. Farah is a clingy drunk, so she disappears with Alex into the woods as soon as she's got some booze in her, and then it's just me and John - Johnny. He hasn't drank a sip the whole time we've been there, just clutching the same beer bottle, nursing it for hours, just.. watching us, and his gaze is so intense. Like he's sizing us up.

At some point, he gets up. Says something about it being "about time", offers me this wink, and then he's strolling off into the woods, whistling to himself.

A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go…

He doesn't come back for naarly an hour. They don't come back for nearly an hour, and I start to get a little worried. I mean, look at me, I would not be able to, like, fight a bear if it came down to it, you know? I just keep feeding the fire, getting jumpier and jumpier, but eventually, he comes back, and..

At first, I don't know what it is. He just looks.. dark. His mohawk looks wet, and his clothes are stuck to him, outlining every muscle, but he doesn't step out into the firelight, stays in the shadows, so only his eyes and his teeth are visible, reflecting the light, and it feels wrong, feels sick.

He asks me, point blank, if I'm tired, and angles his head towards one of the two tents, and I tell him no, not yet, I'm waiting for Farah to get back, and he, uh.. he tells me she's not coming back.

When he steps into the firelight, it's like he's prowling, stalking more than walking, you know? He's moving like… like a predator, all smooth and uncanny, and now that I can see him, I can see that the wetness is.. blood, and he's covered in it, like, head to toe. It's worse at his mouth, his teeth are totally stained, like he was just.. ripping into something, I don't know. Biting. And his teeth are too sharp, and with the way he's moving, and the blood, and.. the look on his face, I just.. bolt.

And he laughs.

I can hear it echoing through the woods, bouncing off of every tree, but I don't hear him running after me. No, he just.. starts walking, and that scares me more, because he's so casual about it. Like he knows I won't get away.

But I run, and as I run, I can hear it, bouncing off of every tree, and it's December, right, so there aren't any leaves to block the moon or muffle the sound. I can hear him whistling as he walks, always seeming to be too close to me, no matter how fast I run, just out of sight, and eventually, I get to a clearing.

Everything feels too still. No nightlife - and there hasn't been any wildlife, no birds, no squirrels, nothing, and I'm realizing how bad that is.

And of course, I trip. My foot gets stuck in a gopher hole, of all fucking things, and then I'm dropping down, and he's on me.

His hand on my wrist, leaning down, and he's -

I don't know.

His eyes are blown out, manic, his teeth so large, ears.. pointed? I don't know, but he's drooling as he ruts against me, all but frothing at the mouth, mumbling about mates and calling me his little bunny, telling me that I had my fun, but that he's ready to have his prize, and-

And I have my bear mace still.

Because I can't fight bears.

He starts fidgeting with my clothes, and I just.. I pull it out, spray him, and he's so big, so unnaturally big, his muscles all.. I don't know, tense, wrong, and I spray him until he's howling and then I run.

I don't think the park ranger was happy to see me, but I was sure as shit happy to see her.

The thing is.. and why I came to you guys..

I keep.. getting this feeling.

Like I'm being watched. Hunted.

Like I never really escaped him.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends. We attempted to contact Miss [REDACTED] following a similar statement we'd received months ago, regarding a man fitting the same description, but when Martin spoke to her, she informed him that all was fine, and that she was happy now.

That she was expecting pups.

Knowing Martin, he likely misheard her. I'm likely to dismiss this as a hallucination; with the mushrooms she discussed, perhaps she ingested some. The police seemed to think the same, and administered a drug test upon her statement, which came back... clean.

There isn't much more we can do here. If Miss- er, Mrs. MacTavish, doesn't wish to aid in further investigation, we, unfortunately, are stuck at a standstill.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

[feralforfrank]

siimon riley x fem!reader

like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.

one

once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).

he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.

you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.

despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.

soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.

"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"

"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.

you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.

the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.

"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."

soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

"my lovely savior."

what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.

there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.

some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.

"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."

you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.

the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.

your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.

"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.

your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.

"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."

before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"

"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.

"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.

it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.

"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.

you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"

"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.

"fuck off."

"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."

he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.

um....this got out of hand....idk.....