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golden-cherry · 2 days ago

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deal - cl16 (44/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Let's get this party started!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of previous smut), alcohol consumption, slight jealousy, a kiss

Word Count: 3.6k

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A/N: we love girls girls. happy Sunday to everyone! feedback is appreciated!

Your little heels click on the asphalt of the streets of Monaco as Kika and you walk towards the club, arms hooked and cheeks warm from the wine. Cold wind blows in your faces.

“I was so happy when Charles invited us to come with you,” Kika smiles and lays her head on your shoulder, which is certainly quite uncomfortable due to your uneven pace. But she doesn't seem to care.

You rest your cheek against her top of her head. "I didn't even know that you were coming tonight until a few hours ago," you say.

“He apparently only messaged Pierre today and asked,” the Portuguese woman says, lifting her head from your shoulder. "Very spontaneous. But all the better that it worked.”

You smile at her. "That's true.”

Together you turn a corner and immediately the club on the other side of the street catches your eye. Neon signs, which somehow don't fit with the rest of the city's atmosphere, draw attention to the building and the closer you get, the louder the music seems to get, penetrating through the walls. A few people are standing in front of the double doors, guarded by security guards dressed in black, discussing admission.

When you see the clipboards in the hands of the broad-built men, you stop abruptly, causing Kika to almost trip and bump into you.

“Are you okay? What's wrong?” she asks, looking at you in confusion.

Nervously, you nod in the direction of the club. ”They have clipboards.”

Kika looks at the bouncers and then back at you. “No shit, Sherlock. That's where the guest list is,” she replies and tries to pull you a little further. “Why are you stopping? Have you changed your mind? Don't you want to party?”

“Yes, I do,” you reply hesitantly. “But how do we get in there if they have a guest list?”

A grin spreads across Kika's beautiful face before she puts her arm around you and pushes you forward. “Do you really doubt that we'll get in?” she asks, and when she catches your nervous glance, she pulls you closer. “You were invited by a Formula 1 driver, querida. You're the last person who needs to worry.”

As you cross the street and stand behind the people who are still arguing with the bouncers, you realize how different your life seems to be now.

Ten days ago, you were worried about how you would pay your rent if you didn't find a job – and now you're spending nights on yachts, your best friend is a model and you're partying with Formula 1 drivers in Monaco's most chic clubs. And you're even living with one of them.

And you love him too.

The bouncers don't seem to be giving in, and the more unyielding they look, the more annoyed the men in their black suits appear. As people try to negotiate their entry and wave banknotes in their hands, the men look past them and nod to you.

Without hesitation, Kika pulls you through the crowd and comes to a stop in front of the entrance doors. She is about to open her mouth when one of the bouncers takes a step to the side and smiles at you. “Good evening, ladies,” he says in a deep voice, holding the door open for you. “Mr. Norris is expecting you.”

“Thank you very much,” Kika replies with a broad smile, quickly pulling you along behind her so that you can only say a quiet ‘thank you’ to the two men before the club's double doors close behind you and you are enveloped in dim light, warm air and music that gets louder with every step you take.

“See? That wasn't so hard,” your friend grins, and together you walk down a short hallway before entering a large room. To your left are a few seating areas on an ampore, some open and others roped off. To your right is a long bar stretching across the room, with lots of people already gathered around it. And right in front of you – there's the dance floor.

At the back is the DJ booth, currently manned by a woman who seems to know exactly what the crowd wants to hear. With precision and skill, she flows from one song to the next without you really noticing, and the audience is eating out of her hands.

“Hello, you two beauties,” someone suddenly says behind you, and when you turn around, you see Lando's face. He's wearing a white shirt, the top buttons casually undone so that part of his chest can be seen. With arms outstretched, he hugs Kika first before pulling you close and planting a kiss on your cheek. “How are you? How was Christmas?” he asks, taking each of your hands to pull you to the seating areas on the left. He briefly lets go of Kika's hand to untie one of the ribbons before letting you go ahead.

“It was great,” Kika replies and takes off her long jacket before dropping onto one of the dark couches. She crosses her legs. "But I think our girl here had the most fun," she grins, raising her eyebrows. You give her a dirty look.

Lando turns to you with raised eyebrows. ”Did you two fuck?”

“That's exactly what I asked!” Kika laughs and claps her hands joyfully.

You feel the heat rising to your face, and it's not because you're still wearing your coat. Tensioned, you take it off and lay it over the back of the couch. “We didn't,” you answer curtly and roll your eyes.

Kika and Lando exchange a meaningful look that you try to ignore.

“Where are the boys, anyway?“ the Brit finally asks, rubbing his hands together as if he can't wait to see his friends again.

“They dropped us off one street over so they could find a parking lot and so we wouldn't all be seen together,” Kika replies, reaching for the drinks menu on the small table in front of her. She begins to flip through it.

“Very good.” Lando turns to you. "Today, only guests are invited who I and Martin know personally and trust so much that no one has to worry about any photos getting out," he smiles, putting his arm around your shoulders.

You look up at him. ”Really?”

He nods. “So you don't need to worry. And neither does Charles.” He gently pulls you close before letting you go again. “So, girls. What can I get you to drink? Wine, cocktails, shots?”

“I'd like a strawberry margarita,” Kika replies, leaning back on the couch.

“A piña colada, please.”

“All right. I'll be right back.“ Without turning back to you, he leaves and heads towards the bar, where he is immediately greeted and hugged by a few people, while you first make yourselves comfortable in your seating area.

“Do you know this Martin guy?” you ask the Portuguese woman, who looks over at the crowd.

She nods briefly. “Martin is really nice. And he's a good DJ,” she replies, and you notice how her gaze sticks to the female DJ. “He just doesn't look as good as she does.”

You can't suppress a grin. ”He doesn't have to look good as a DJ, does he? He just has to be good at what he does.”

“That's right,” Kika agrees with you before turning to face you. She points with her thumb over her shoulder and towards the DJ booth. ”But she's definitely hotter.”

Before you can say anything, Lando returns with a tray and sets it down in front of you. Your two cocktails and more glasses are on it, but there are also small shot glasses filled with red liquid. He hands you your drinks.

“There we are,” Pierre greets all of you and briefly embraces Lando. Charles is standing behind him and smiles at you.

“I'm glad you all made it,” the Brit smiles, giving the Monegasque a quick hug before everyone sits down.

Charles takes a seat next to you, so close that he can press his leg against yours. “Hi,” he smiles gently. “Everything okay?” You return his smile and nod before taking a sip of your cocktail. His gaze flickers briefly from your eyes to your lips, which wrap around the straw. “Piña Colada?”

“Mh-hmm.” You hold the straw out to him and watch as he takes a sip. "Do you like it?”

“I do,’ he admits. ”But somehow I prefer the Nightmare Colada.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks at his words and the thought of the night when you got drunk on his boat. How you poured out your hearts.

“To a great evening,” Lando raises his voice and hands everyone a shot glass. Carefully, each of you takes one, careful not to spill any of the red liquid. ”Cheers!”

The drinks that make their way to your table over the next two hours taste so fantastically good that Kika and you doubt that there is much alcohol in them. The cocktails taste fantastic and the music puts everyone in a good mood, so you leave your table and hit the dance floor.

Your group dances to the beat that the DJ is playing like tipsy teenagers. Kika and you hold hands and dance together, causing the boys' eyes to almost pop out of their heads. The Portuguese woman presses her front against yours, her hands on your hips while yours are on her shoulders. And when she leans forward with pouting lips, you can't help but press a friendly kiss on her lips. You hear someone whistle – it's definitely Pierre – and when you both pull away from each other, you have to laugh.

Kika puts her arm around your shoulders and the other around Charles. “I can't believe I kissed this beauty here before you did, Leclerc,” she grins.

Charles looks at you with rosy cheeks, but his words are directed at Kika. “Is she a good kisser?”

“The best kisser I ever had,” the brunette replies with a grin before letting go of you and throwing her arms around her boyfriend.

Charles and you look at each other uncertainly.

Well, why haven't you kissed each other yet?

The thought is haunting your mind, but you can't answer the question.

Doesn't Charles want to kiss you? You've definitely done things that are definitely not PG-rated. You can almost feel his spent between your thighs and his lips on your neck, the tip of his cock nudging against your clit and –

Why haven't you kissed each other?

The Monegasque seems to notice your thoughts, but before he can say anything, Kika grabs your hand and pulls you towards the bar. You lean against the counter and wait for one of the bartenders to notice you when your friend takes your hand.

“Is everything okay?” She asks, raising her eyebrows in concern.

“Why do you ask?” you reply with a counter question.

When a bartender reaches you, Kika orders your drinks. "I didn't want it to be weird between you and Charles. I'm sorry.”

You smile weakly at her and give her a quick hug. ’It's all right. We won't let this ruin our evening, okay?”

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” She asks, tilting her head. ‘You can call me day or night and I'll come to you. I promise.”

Your smile grows wider. "I'm already aware of that.”

“And I really love you, you know that?“ She puts her hands on your upper arms and hugs you tightly. Apparently, Kika gets emotional when she's drunk.

“I love you too,” you return her embrace, and when the bartender puts your drinks in front of you, you both toast.

“To the coolest girls, aka us,” she grins. As you both take a sip, someone taps her on the shoulder. Your best friend turns around and apparently she knows the young woman standing behind her, because she pulls her into a fleeting embrace before introducing you. ”Querida, this is Elena. She is also a model.”

In front of you stands a breathtaking beauty. With her brown hair, dark eyes and dark complexion, she looks as if she has just flown in from vacation. She is wearing a black and white dress that highlights her figure and accentuates exactly the right places to make her look flawless.

You smile at her and introduce yourself as well. “Nice to meet you,” you say and extend your hand, but Elena kisses you on the left and then on the right cheek.

“It's nice to meet you, too,” she replies with a smile before approaching you. ”Wait. Wipe below your eyebrows. You have some mascara on there.”

Without questioning her remark, you do as she says, and apparently it's good, because both women look at you with satisfaction afterwards. “Thank you,” you say. “That's very nice.”

Elena waves it off. ‘Don't worry. I'd want someone to tell me that too." She leans against the bar. ”You already have your drinks, right? Should I order shots for us?” she asks, but before either of you can answer, she is already talking to the bartender, who quickly prepares a cocktail and sets down three shot glasses in front of her. "Here you go," she says, handing each of you one of the glasses.

After you've clinked glasses and emptied the small glasses, Kika fishes her cell phone out of her purse. ”Should we take a picture? I'm already drunk, but I definitely want a few more, and I don't think they'll get any better as the evening goes on,” she giggles, tapping someone on the shoulder to take a photo of you. First one of Kika and you, and then one of the three of you.

“What's your name on Instagram?” Elena asks you, also digging out her phone so you can type your username into the search bar. When your profile pops up, she immediately clicks the follow button.

Your phone lights up and the notification pops up on the lock screen, and when you tap it, you confirm her request and follow her right back.

Her profile has a very aesthetic and artistic touch. Every picture is exactly where it should be. The colors all match and at the top of her biography is actually her full name: Elena Montpellier – one million followers – model at Bijou Management agency.

“I didn't know that Lando had invited you,” Kika says to Elena, who just shrugs.

“I'm here with friends,“ she replies as the three of you return to your seating area. "A friend of mine knows Martin and asked me if I wanted to come. And as if I'd stay at home when Martin is playing here in the club.”

Confused, you look from one beauty to the other. "So who is this Martin?” you ask hesitantly, afraid that Elena will laugh at you.

But she doesn't. Quite the opposite. She slides closer to you and tells you about Martin, who is apparently a world-famous DJ. On her cell phone, she shows you videos of his shows and the crowds in front of which he usually performs, but in none of the sequences can you see his face. But suddenly she puts her cell phone down and motions for you to look up. “Speak of the devil.”

Your men join you and, like you, they have someone new with them. The face looks incredibly familiar. He kisses each of the girls on the cheek before introducing himself to you. And then it clicks.

“Oh my God,” you gasp before he can say a word. ‘You're Martin Garrix.”

“That's me,’ he replies, visibly confused, glancing briefly at Lando, who puts his arm around your shoulder – skilfully ignoring Charles' scowl.

“My friend here hasn't been in this industry for very long,“ he explains, gently pulling you over to his side. "This is all still pretty new.”

Martin looks back at you from Lando. ’Then I'm glad you're here today,” he smiles. “How did you end up with these guys, if you don't mind me asking?”

You're about to open your mouth to answer him, but Charles is faster. “She's my best friend,” he replies, standing next to you, his arm around your waist. He glances at Lando, who quickly removes his arm from your shoulder and catches your uncertain glance.

“Okay, cool,” Martin simply replies. ”I still have about half an hour before I have to go to the desk. So, what's going on in your lives?”

While everyone is chatting, you hold back and watch. Pierre and Lando are talking, while Charles, Elena and Martin have moved closer together and the latter is showing something on his cell phone to the other two. You lean back into the couch and sip on your cocktail, Kika leaning on you.

“I'm sorry he introduced you as his best friend,” she says, only audible to you.

When you shrug, her head wobbles. “It's okay. I've made my peace with it,” you reply with a half-truth.

Of course, you would prefer to be more than just his best friend – after all, you share a bed and the images of his expression when he came and painted your thighs refuse to leave you – but if his friendship is all you get from him, then that's that.

“Please take care of yourself.” Kika raises her head and looks at you anxiously. ”I don't want you to get hurt. You've already been through so much.”

You gently press a kiss on her forehead. “I appreciate your concern.” Your gaze flickers over to Charles, who is now talking only to Elena. He shows her something on his phone and they both have to laugh. The woman leans forward a little to get a better look at the screen, but holds her neckline of the dress so that you can't see inside.

Charles eyes move from his screen to you, without looking at Elena once.

You smile at him, but before he can return it, the woman next to him says something and his attention is back to her, as if you weren't there. Maybe he just wants to be polite, after all, Pascale has taught him well and Charles is not one who just -

“Hi,” someone interrupts your train of thought and when you look up, Martin is standing in front of you. "I'm going to the DJ booth now and I thought you might like to join me," he suggests. ”As a kind of welcome and an apology for being so strange just now.”

You raise your eyebrows in wonder. “Actually, I should be the one to apologize. I'm not quite into the ‘famous people know other famous people’ thing yet. I'm sorry.”

Martin waves it off. “Don't worry. It takes some getting used to. But maybe it will help if you support me at the DJ booth.” He holds out his hand.

“I've never done this before. So I can't guarantee anything,” you smile, which makes him laugh.

“I'll show you everything. And if necessary, you can just stand next to me and look beautiful, but that shouldn't be a problem.“

“All right.” Without hesitation, you put your hand in his and he helps you to your feet. You take a quick glance at Kika, who grins at you and pushes the rest of your cocktail into your free hand, wishing you lots of fun.

Your eyes flicker over to Charles, whose eyes are already glued to you. He doesn't seem to notice Elena at all, she talks and talks and apparently shows him something without realizing that his attention is not on her right now. He looks from your face to your hand, which is still holding Martin's, so that he can guide you through the crowd in a moment.

It doesn't feel right to hold another man's hand, even if it's just for a moment. It should be Charles' hand holding yours. Charles' fingers entwined with yours. But Charles is sitting there with Elena, knee to knee.

“Are you okay?” Martin asks, looking from you to Charles, who can't take his eyes off the two of you.

You swallow and smile at him. “I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?” the DJ asks implausibly. “Charles looks at me as if he wants to kill me. You're just friends, aren't you?”

With your eyes fixed on Charles, you answer him. "Best friends," you correct him with the words of the Monegasque, before turning to Martin. ”Shall we?”

"With pleasure.”

As the two of you leave the seating area and you don't turn around to catch the eye of your best friend, Charles clenches his jaw.

He already knows the feeling that is welling up inside of him, but last time it was Lando who triggered it and he had to work on himself not to see the Brit as competition. Which is complete nonsense, because Charles knows that Lando would never come between the two of you, not after he called the Monegasque and put him in his place while he was in Italy.

And Charles knows that he has nothing to worry about. He is the man you go home with later. He is the man you share your bed with at night. He is the man who will later push up your dress and is allowed to touch you where you need him most.

He knows all of this. And yet there is nothing he can do about it, except feel increasingly jealous with every step you take away from him.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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nothorses · 2 days ago

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shinigami eyes is inaccurate sometimes. that doesn't mean it's evil.

I've seen more people talking about the shinigami eyes extension lately, specifically because it seems like some "trans inclusive" radfems have been using it to incorrectly mark anyone who disagrees with their hateful rhetoric as "anti-trans".

the conclusion I see people drawing is that shinigami eyes is full of transandrophobic, exorsexist/enbyphobic, intersexist radfems using their moderation powers for evil.

that's now how this works!

shinigami eyes is crowdsourced. everyone who uses the extension can mark anyone and anything as "anti-trans" (red) or "trans-friendly" (green), or "clear" any current markings they might have.

that input is taken into account when determining how said blog/website/account/whatever shows up to everyone else using shinigami eyes, but you will see things marked the way you mark them immediately.

shinigami eyes claims to have some level of human validation involved when they determine public changes to how things are marked, but it's not clear what that looks like. looking through their (fairly inactive) github community page, I stumbled on this person asking about what to do if they've been incorrectly marked "anti-trans":

which confirms my understanding of how shinigami eyes tends to work.

basically, shinigami eyes isn't actually told why anyone marks anyone else as "safe" or "unsafe". even if/when there is "human validation", they're most likely just making their best guesses based on the information available to them: a cursory glance over the blog/account/website that was marked, and how other people have marked the same thing.

if someone's blog is incorrectly marked red, it's probably because one or more people completely unrelated to shinigami eyes moderation submitted that marking. if there was nothing near the top of that person's blog to indicate that person was vocally supportive of trans people (and not just trans themselves) if/when it was checked by a human, they likely just went with what seemed to be the safest bet.

which means if people are abusing this extension to mark folks as "anti-trans" when they're not, we can take action to fix that!

If someone is marked red/"anti-trans" when they shouldn't be, mark them "trans-friendly" yourself. then tell someone else who uses the extension to do the same. it'll update the public marking eventually.

if you are marked red/"anti-trans" when you shouldn't be, and you want to reverse that & prevent it from happening again, it might be a good idea to put something explicit in your bio- like "trans rights are human rights"- so it's front & center if and when a human at shinigami eyes checks a marking someone submitted.

there's another conversation to be had about how much people should be relying on shinigami eyes in the first place, but it's not evil. it doesn't hate you. it's not even exclusionary, historically speaking.

the one thing I will say is that there is definitely some very valid contention around this specific stance they currently hold:

I understand why they might want to avoid wading too deep into questions about what "counts" as a transphobic slur vs. what does not when it comes to intra-community issues, as a pretty public-facing tool for the trans community broadly speaking. but like, "theyfab" is a pretty explicitly exorsexist term, imo.

still, I think this should probably just be taken to their github issues board, where folks can have more of a conversation than the reviews page allows for. trying to pressure them into compliance isn't going to cut it, and our community deserves better than that anyway.

#trans #shinigami eyes #transandrophobia

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draconeko · 2 days ago

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I just arrived and I apologize in advance if I write a lot of text but omg I like to explain what's on my mind even if there's no need @asperanna @jonksi @onionowt @nanomii @rainbigbrain @ejsuperstar @ebi-skycotl ( You don't have to read my ramblings but I put the tags anyway )

Pluto is a mix of orange, skrunkly and smol. The kind of cat that I would totally hold in my hands but end up with a bitten finger. They are funny, they talk a lot and I find them very authentic, the kind that you imagine running energetically around you and their motivation rubs off on you, when I met them I thought they were more chill but I never felt disappointed for being wrong

Jojo/Kitty/Catofaurora I would say is a mix of Loaf and skrunkly, she is very funny, she makes you feel welcome, she is understanding and her humor always makes me laugh, she always has some joke to make about some random post. You can tell she has a good heart, that's why she is a loaf to me, I wouldn't be here if she hadn't found me.

Onion, nanomii and Rain were definitely (maybe still are) Tux, but now that I've interacted with them they're more of a mix of Tux and other cats

Regarding Rain, I agree with Pluto, they're totally a cloud, they're chill, they're calming and friendly, probably introverted like most of us, but they're the perfect person to talk to when you have an anxious mind.

Onion is a shorthair! Outside of admiration, I always remember the post that talked about their studies, I've always perceived them as someone who has worked very hard but is unable to notice how much their effort has paid off. As a person they seem very soft to me, maybe that's why the hug, must protect?

Nano is smol, we're both too anxious to even talk, we probably want to but we don't know how, if you read this nano, I appreciate you just for leaving little messages on rbs

EJ would say they're smol too, maybe smol creature? they are right in the middle where they are not chill enough to be a cloud, but not chaotic enough to be orange or skrunkly. It's a balance that I find very curious. I can't describe this with cats but I find them very full of passion, I admire people who are passionate about the things they like (even if it's just a hyperfixation). Basically a person that makes me very curious but I'm not sure how to interact

Ebi, Ebi is Loaf and shorthair, they makes me feel cuteness aggression, very soft, very gentle, a good listener not only to friends but to total strangers, sometimes very altruistic too. It's a surprise that there's so much evil for their ocs in their heart, I can expect it from Ari, from pluto, bohap or aria, but ebi… Anyway I still remember what they wrote when thet made the drawing of the deer of the nine colors, I think it's something that totally stuck in my memory and I don't know why.

I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, I'm sure I can assign a cat to some other mutuals but right now my mind isn't bringing them up.

WHAT KINDA CAT ARE YOUR MUTUALS

I REALLY WANNA SIT HERE AMD GO THROUGH TAGGING EVERYONE BUT I HAVE TO GO TO BED NOW SO I’LL DO SO TOMORROW!!!

#They have a place in my heart #and I'm just emotional

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gayeddieagenda · 1 day ago

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❤️ 🎵 Number 9 if you’re still doing the prompts? thank you!! I hope you’re having a good day!

another scene prompt game! - 9: listening to the other’s heartbeat + ❤️ 🎵

“Huh,” Buck says.

Eddie knocks his ankle against Buck’s. “What?”

“I’m not trying to freak you out,” Buck says. He has his serious face on and that, more than anything, makes Eddie squint at him, suspicious. “When was the last time you went to the doctor?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “I had a checkup a month ago, jackass.”

“Texas doctors?” Buck says skeptically. Eddie huffs at him. Buck adjusts his grip on Eddie’s arm, pressing his index and middle fingers more firmly into Eddie’s wrist. “It’s probably nothing. It’s just, I can’t find your pulse.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“I’m being serious!” Buck tries another spot on Eddie’s wrist, then another, shaking his head both times: nothing. “You should definitely have a pulse.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, deadpan. “What if I’m already dead?”

Six months. Eddie waited six months to see Buck in person again. Buck had made a noise like a dying animal on the phone, when they realized that he was going to be in the first hour of a 48-hour shift when Eddie and Chris got in from Texas.

Then, when Bobby asked if Eddie wanted to be scheduled for the last 24 hours of the same shift or wait four more days until his first shift back, Eddie signed on for the earlier shift without thinking twice about it. It meant not waiting a second longer to be back where he belongs—at the 118, on the job. It also meant this: seeing Buck for the first time since…since Texas, since everything, surrounded by all their coworkers.

“Don’t worry,” Buck says. “I have something else I can try.”

Buck releases Eddie’s hand. Eddie draws his arm back to his body, unconsciously reaching his other hand up to grip his wrist where Buck’s hand had been holding him a second ago.

Buck gestures at Eddie’s neck. “Can I—”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t want to say it,” Buck said. His voice was low and frustrated through the phone. “Not like this.”

“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling furious, feeling lightheaded. Feeling alone, in a silent Texas house three sizes too big for him. “This is it. I’m here. You’re there. If you’re pissed at me, I’d rather you just tell me.”

Buck reaches for the collar of Eddie’s turnouts. He peels back the velcro strip covering the neck, then undoes the top snaps—one, two, three. He hooks two fingers of one hand on Eddie’s chin, tilting his head back. Sets two fingers of his other hand on Eddie’s neck, just below his jaw, in the divot just behind his trachea, just in front of the muscle.

It’s stupid. Eddie’s fine. He fell down, that’s all. He was rounding a corner to get back to the engine when a kid came sprinting around the other side, running at full force. She ran headfirst into his stomach and they both went sprawling on the grass. Buck caught up to them first, checking over the kid and giving her a sticker after telling her she should consider a career in wrestling. Eddie pushed himself up from the ground, angling to sneak back to the engine and drop off his gear. Buck caught his arm, giving him a where do you think you’re going? look.

So, now they’re here. Sitting in the back of the ambulance, parked in South Pasadena at two in the morning, Chimney’s classic rock radio station still playing quietly from the front seats. The kitchen fire that called them out was put out half an hour ago, but when the upstairs neighbor cracked his door to figure out what had brought a fire truck to his driveway, his cat bolted. Chim spotted her up a tree in the backyard—literally, a cat stuck in a tree. It doesn’t get much more stereotypical than that.

Chimney’s got it handled, apparently, though it’s been twenty minutes and he and the cat are both still in the tree. Eventually, he’s going to get the cat down or some new emergency will materialize from nothing and someone will come looking for Buck and Eddie—but for now, for a minute, they’re alone.

The pads of Buck’s fingers are gentle on the side of Eddie’s neck. His hands are warm. Buck presses in, just enough pressure on Eddie’s throat for him to feel it.

He’s looking Eddie in the eye while he touches him. Eddie looks back. He takes in a slow breath, feeling his throat expand under Buck’s hand. Watches Buck blink back at him. They’re so close like this, Eddie can see where Buck missed a spot shaving just below his sideburns, where Buck’s hair dried flat to his head when he had to pull on his helmet straight out of the shower. He can see where his eyes are crinkling at the corners, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“Nope,” Buck says. “Still nothing.”

“Oh, no,” Eddie says dryly. “Do you need to start CPR?”

“I’m sure I can think of something else before it comes to that.”

“I’m not taking off my pants for you to check my femoral.”

“I wasn’t going to do that, Eddie. We’re at work.”

Buck takes his hand off Eddie’s neck. Eddie misses it immediately.

He backs up a little, as far as he can get in the cramped quarters of the ambulance. He rests his hands on his hips, giving Eddie an assessing look.

“I’m not pissed at you,” Buck said, voice low. “That’s why I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

“When do you want to have it?” Eddie asked. He’s angry, and he’s picking a fight, and he can’t stop himself, when this is how he gets to talk to Buck now: in broken halves of conversations, eight hundred miles away. “When you visit in six months? When Chris graduates high school in four years?”

“Come on,” Buck said. “That’s not fair.”

“Then tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Eddie asks.

“Pretty sure I’m the firefighter here, thanks.”

Eddie rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. “Didn’t realize.”

“Here,” Buck says.

His hands are back on Eddie’s jacket, undoing the rest of the snaps and opening his jacket. He hooks a hand in Eddie’s suspenders, pulling lightly at them, adjusting Eddie until he’s sitting on the edge of the gurney, knees between Buck’s legs. Eddie goes easily.

Buck places a hand on Eddie’s chest, above his heart.

They’re at work, Eddie reminds himself. It’s two in the morning and it’s Pasadena, it’s the distant sound of Chimney going here, kitty-kitty, and the low hum of the radio.

Buck glances at the ambulance doors. They left them open a crack, but all they can see through the gap is the empty street, cast in yellow and red from the streetlamps and the fire engine lights. No one’s looking for them.

Buck turns back to Eddie. He leans in in one movement, replacing his hand with his ear to Eddie’s chest.

It’s awkward, kind of. The ambulance isn’t exactly roomy and Buck is folded in at a weird angle to get his face to Eddie’s chest. Eddie knows he still smells like the kitchen fire, like smoke and burnt fish and sweat. Any second, someone’s going to realize they disappeared and come barging through the ambulance doors and into this, into the tableau that is Buck leaning on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie breathes, chest rising and falling. Buck moves with it.

He was scared to see Buck again. He can admit that now, with Buck in front of him, the way he couldn’t when he was still in El Paso.

There’s a conversation they’ve been waiting to have. They started it a month ago, on the phone, Buck in his loft and Eddie in the kitchen of his rented house in El Paso. By now, Eddie’s pretty sure he’s figured out where this conversation is going to end. He knows he’s not going to find out here, in the back of an ambulance in Pasadena.

They decided, by mutual agreement, that they wouldn’t touch it until after the shift. They kept their word. Instead, Buck’s been doing…this. Messing with Eddie. Sticking close to him. Touching him, under the barest pretense of medical necessity.

It—this, them—has been an idea in Eddie’s head for so long that he started to lose track of what it was, exactly, that he was waiting for. It doesn’t feel real, that Buck could say something on the phone and a month later Eddie could be in Los Angeles again, cashing checks they wrote when they were eight hundred miles apart.

“I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” Buck said, low, into a phone speaker in Los Angeles. Into Eddie’s ear, in an empty room in El Paso. “I’m in love with you.”

Buck’s head resting on Eddie’s chest is real.

It’s right here. It’s the easiest thing in the world, for Eddie to put his hand on the back of Buck’s neck, where the soft ends of his hair curl. For him to breathe in, slow, and feel the weight of Buck leaning on him.

“Yeah,” Buck says finally. His voice is quiet in the back of his throat. Eddie can feel it in his chest. “Found it.”

#buddie #911 fic #emoji prompt fic #buddie fic #my fic tag #this is silly goofy <3 #i'll post it on ao3 also just gimme a sec

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willowed-wisp · 2 days ago

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NSFW ALPHABET [ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

THE AFTERCARE KING!

He was raised to treat his partner like a goddess and you took him so well for so long… he’s waiting on you hand and foot, whatever you need. Bath being drawn? Food? More sex? He’s more than willing.

Even after a quickie, he’s checking you’re alright. Praising you for being so perfect, and more often than not it will lead to more sex because those eyes draw you back in.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ON HIMSELF: He knows how much you love his eyes, probably the reason you even gave him a chance. Also they’re the reason he can watch your curves and how your lips widen when he slips into you… his eyes have a lot to do with his job and his life.

ON YOU: Johnny CANNOT pin down what he loves about you more. Your thighs when they tighten around his hips? Your lips that give him a run for his money no matter what they’re being used for?

He just loves YOU in general, he’s more of a personality guy but it’s an added bonus that you’ve got so many benefits.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Breeding kink is written all over this man. Inside all day long, he knows you don’t like having to clean up the mess on your body and the image of you carrying a little one of him… it’s too tempting for him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Still hasn’t told Ghost that he fucked you over the arm of his couch when you were staying over at his.

Simon definitely knows, he could smell the unmistakeable scent of fresh sex as he came through to the living room. And the scrape marks on the wooden boards- the sofa had moved a few inches to the right.

Not to mention the scratches up Johnny’s arms, and the abrasions along your collarbone.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Johnny was so dead set on going into the military that girls may not have had his full focus.

He’s definitely experienced, have you seen that face ✨irresistible✨ and he’s an impossible flirt. Not a manwhore by any means but DEFINITELY knows how to pleasure you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

STANDING: He’s got muscles and what’s the point in having them not to use them on the person he cherishes most. He’s fucking into you while you’re suspended in the air- only thing stopping your descent to the ground; his arms hooked under your bent knees and hands clutching your ass.

DOGGYSTYLE: He can get so rough and bothered with you on all fours, watching your fingers clutch into the soft sheets of his bed. Your pretty voice filling the void between the flesh slapping and mattress creaking. Johnny doesn’t care if he doesn’t last as long as usual, he can’t help loving how your ass jiggles against his spread thighs.

IN HIS LAP: Sitting up with you in his lap wrapped so perfectly around him. Christ, he’d die a happy man if he got to see that every day. Your moans so loud like that, him buried so deep. Your body shivers and nails clutch deeper into his tattooed shoulder blade.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s gonna laugh if you guys fall off the bed. Doesn’t mean he’s gonna stop fucking you. It’s a unique image seeing this buff guy, covered in a range of scars and tattoos have such an angelic smile while defiling you. A weird dichotomy but you see it in your fucking dreams.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Johnny’s a clean shaven guy down there. The guy even styles his facial hair and even his mohawk. He’s definitely got a handle of the hair down there.

There’s still a dark brown shadow down there but no hair in sight.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s so intimate.

When he comes home from deployment, he enjoys being cuddled up to something soft and breathing instead of crawling around in the dirt.

He’s so lively with his hands, cannot keep them off you. That’s how you end up under his heat, or how you end up spread with your beau on his knees eating you like he’s been a starved man.

Takes you out on little dates, nothing too fancy- he’s a down-to-earth guy. Normally in his local pub, you don’t mind as long as you’re with your man.

He’s so protective, and anybody would be stupid to cross this stocky built man with an SAS emblem on his forearm.

Johnny doesn’t even look at other women, as far as he’s concerned you are the only woman on the planet.

J = Jack off (masturbation head-canon)

Before you definitely jacked off once a day maybe more but after meeting you, you became the main focus and after you were ready to go all the way, you two have sex everyday. He just has an unquenchable need to be inside of you and feel that buzz.

During deployment, he doesn’t have the time or the drive to keep that amount up. But when he finds the time, the memories of you are his only assistance.

He’s definitely glad to get back to you, his safe place. His home.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BREEDING: You’re the only person he’s wanted to knock up. Before he didn’t even know if he COULD be a father… he’d be gone for too many days for him to bear the guilt. He didn’t want to be an absent dad but knowing you were there to take care of the kids… he melts at the thought of two boys and you pregnant with a girl.

The reason he makes sure to come out alive, a family waiting for him.

BONDAGE: He gets way too excited being at your completed mercy. Hands behind his back, tied with a pair of your tights, on a dining chair. His blue gaze entranced watching you work your magic all over his tensed body. Until he breaks out of his restraints… you have one hell of storm coming…

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Doesn’t really care where you have sex just as long as it’s comfortable. The bed is a classic place.

CAR: Not too keen on places that are too open. He drives either a Ford Ranger or a relatively modern BMW, hop in the front seat. Or if he’s feeling more handsy and in control- back seat, hands on ass type of doggy style. It’s like candy to him

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. You’re just the whole motivation for this man. You’re the reason he HAS to come home.

Rubbing his hair is a kind of turn on for him, any type of sensual touch. Caressing his tattoos and running your finger along his scars. He’s like a puppy dog turned to a wolf.

Wearing his clothes. He can’t help it, he wants everyone to know your his- maybe he bought you a shirt that said ‘MacTavish’ on the back just to fuck you in. Got matching hoodies as well. Even if you’re not married, they say ‘Mr and Mrs MacTavish’. They don’t stay on for long, most likely stripped with his bare hands.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that would harm you. You’re too precious and delicate taking him so good.

No degrading you- he will never call you a ‘whore’, ‘slut’ or anything of that sort. You’re his lady, he’ll treat you like a goddess till the day he dies.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Doesn’t really care about blowjobs, prefers you taking him in other ways.

As for oral, he could eat you up for days and you’d gladly let him. He’s great at running his mouth and eating you up.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Truly is your decision or how long he’s been away from you.

If you’re begging him with those pretty eyes for him to jackhammer you- he will and lose himself in it.

But when he’s gentle and deep, it’s almost as affective because eye contact is involved… losing yourself in their waves.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves a good quickie, for him it’s like a warmup to actually worshipping you. It helps get that darker side out of him, he’s almost animalistic during quickies so he can pay attention to your own needs.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Johnny is open to trying new things except the no nos. He loves learning new positions and strives to keep you satisfied when you’re just happy with him.

He definitely takes risks- gets his blood pumping and he’s not the shy type. If someone does catch you in the act- he’ll just carry on… they shouldn’t have walked in. While you’re there mortified.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He could last all night and day if you wanted him to. His stamina is diabolical, but he’ll take care of you after the ten rounds he’s capable of managing through a 24-hour-span.

That normally happens when he gets back on leave. The neighbours definitely know when that is.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s definitely open to try anything new. But he’ll always protest after it that you were louder with just him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Have you met this man? He’s the poster-boy for teasing in whatever degree.

Will get so far with foreplay and get distracted… but fluttering your eyelashes has never worked so well. He always concedes.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Definitely is shouting praises at you under his breath. About how good it feels inside of you and how he could stay there forever.

He gets louder with each round, it’s raw and rugged hearing his accent really come through so you can barely understand it.

That doesn’t mean you’re any less riled up by them.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would maybe play with the idea of a threesome with Ghost… it’s slipped across his mind more than he’d like to admit.

You and Simon seem to get on great, and as protective as Johnny may be, it turns him on thinking about you being fucked by himself while choking on LT.

He knows it would never happen but it’s a weird fantasy he contemplates. And it’s only an idea, jealousy runs writhe in his veins at the thought of another person touching you like or at all.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s confident for a reason- about 7 inches but very thick.

You’ve never been so split in half before.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Craves you every minute of every day. He’s a fiend for your body… even without the sex, your company is his own drug.

On a scale of 0-10, he’s an 11.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he’s been going at it, he’ll wait to see if you needed anything before slipping into bed beside you and his chest being used as your personal pillow. He sleeps so soundly since he met you.

————

masterlist

#johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap smut #soap call of duty #soap x reader #soap cod #soapghost #soap mw2 #cod smut #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod #smut alphabet #smut

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ariestrxsh · 6 hours ago

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જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content warning: smut, use of vibrator, degradation, unprotected sex, dumbification, size kink, threesome, dom!matt, dom!chris, sub!reader

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 author's note: this is the second ending i wrote for this fic. enjoy! 🤍

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 summary: chris and matt find a flaw in the bet you made with them, meaning you submit to them.

love potions part two (second ending)

Chris was using your vibrator on you, the same vibrator he'd just found you using on yourself as you laid completely naked downstairs on their couch.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Fifteen

"I'm tired of you being such a little slut all the time," a shirtless Chris smirked down at you while a shirtless Matt was pinning your wrists above your head.

They had just woken up and come downstairs for breakfast to instead find you, practically begging to be fucked by them both.

You had been getting annoyed at how disciplined the two of them were, ignoring your teasing and not giving into you. It was halfway through No Nut November, and you were doing everything in your power to get into the two boys' heads and make one of them cave on the bet you'd made with them.

"I bet you're both gonna have to go touch yourselves after this, aren't you?" You asked, giving both Matt and Chris a devious smile. You peered down at the way Chris' cock was straining against the cotton fabric of his pants.

"Why would I touch myself when I could just fuck you?" Chris wondered aloud. "Because then you'd lose the bet, and you'd lose No Nut November," you replied between whimpers as the soft buzz of your toy stimulated your clit.

"Well, there's a loophole in the bet you made," Matt replied, tightening his grip on your wrists. "If one of us loses the bet because they fucked you, then the other gets to fuck you after. And so did either of us really lose?" Chris asked, sneering at you.

"I like the way you guys think. Not as dumb as you both look," you responded smugly. "We might both look dumb, but not as dumb as we're about to make you on our cocks," Chris shot back.

Chris turned off the vibrator he held in his hand, tossing it off to the side, and he started to pull down the waistband of his sweats. You watched as his cock sprung out, letting out a gasp at how big it was.

Before you had much more time to react, he was gently running the tip up and down your slick folds. "I knew you wouldn't be able to go a whole month without nutting," you scoffed at his lack of self-control.

"Doesn't matter, sweetheart. I'm still getting what I want," Chris told you as he rested the tip at your entrance and without skipping a beat, he thrust his hips forward, stretching you out as he entered you inch by inch.

You gasped and let out a squeal while you peered up at him wide-eyed. "You love how big it is, don't you?" Chris asked in a sweet voice. You nodded.

"Say it," Chris demanded, dying to hear you compliment the size of his cock. "I love it, Chris. I love how big you are," you whimpered. It had been so long since you'd been properly fucked.

"Take this big dick, you little slut," Chris panted, relishing in the way you gripped around him. He quickly picked up speed, moans pouring from his lips while he plunged his cock into your drooling hole, bucking his hips back and forth and watching the way his member moved in and out of you.

"Fuck," he groaned under his breath, admiring the way his length looked coated in your arousal each time he pulled out before pushing it back in again.

"You like being used by us, don't you?" Matt cooed, running the back of his hand delicately along your flushed cheek. You bit your lip and nodded. "Use your words, princess," Matt softly ordered you. "Yes. I love being used," you whined.

Chris slammed into you over and over, both of them studying the way your tits bounced and admiring the metal jewelery that decorated each of them. Chris reached down and cupped one of your breasts. "So fucking hot," he whispered, running his thumb over your pierced nipple, drawing more pornographic sounds from you as he teased you.

Chris could usually last a long time in bed, but it had been weeks since he'd cum, and it had been weeks of your relentless teasing. He could already feel that familiar feeling in his lower belly quickly building. You could feel the way he throbbed inside of you, begging for relief.

His pretty blue eyes were locked on yours, his expression softening, and the prettiest moans you'd ever heard falling from his full, pink lips. Before he could even make the conscious decision to finish, he was injecting you with his milky, white fluid, his cock twitching as he filled you up.

"Oh my god," he softly whimpered, looking down at the mess he made in your hole. A satisfied smile formed on his fucked out expression as he delivered a few final thrusts, pulling your climax from you as well.

You started to clench around him, your legs shaking, and your eyes rolling back into your head while Matt held you down against the couch, watching the whole scene unfold.

Before you could even recover from the incredible sensation, they were switching spots. Chris' grasp around your wrist was tighter than Matt's had been, and it immediately turned you on again to have him handling you that way.

Matt positioned himself between your legs, pulling out his poor, neglected cock. He wasted no time before he drove his hardness into you, stretching you out once more.

"Oh, fuck," the words passed through your parted lips as Matt rocked his hips back and forth, quickly gaining momentum and chasing sweet release as soon as he entered you.

Matt placed both your legs on his shoulders to gain deeper access, and you both moaned louder as he orchestrated himself further into your pretty pussy. His hands wandered towards your breasts, and he gently squeezed each one.

"You like taking us both, one right after the other, don't you? Fucking slut," Chris smirked down at you. You didn't need to answer. The desperate look on your face said it all.

Matt's cock was extra sensitive after being neglected for so long, and he was already on the tail of his climax after only a few more minutes. His fervent moans filled the room as he peered down at the way he slipped in and out of your drooling slit.

It was too much. He couldn't take it anymore. He started to pulsate inside of you, pumping you full of his seed. His expression was steeped in pleasure, his brows drawn together in an almost-concerned-looking manner, his cheeks flushed and pink, and his jaw hanging slack in awe.

His hooded blue eyes were fixated on your pussy and the way you started rhythmically tightening around him as you finished as well. He studied the mixture of both of your fluids that varnished his pretty cock as he pulled out of you, nearly collapsing from how intense his orgasm felt.

"Fuck," Matt breathlessly whispered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "We both got to tag team you, and didn't even have to wait until November ended," Chris chuckled, amused with himself for being the one who found the loophole.

You laid beneath them in a puddle of cum and drool after having the sense fucked out of you. You could barely form a thought or a sentence, but you finally mustered up the brain cells to utter the words, "Well played."

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #dom chris sturniolo #dom matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you

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revelboo · 1 day ago

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Even If It Kills Me Pt 2

TF Armada Starscream x Reader

• Primus, help him, because the sound you make when he does finally manage to catch you almost makes him immediately drop you. Screaming your little head off as the Mini-Cons flinch away, chirping and upset by the noise. But as he lifts you to optic level, you give up and fall silent. Those eyes are defiant when they meet his glare head on. “So is this where you crush me like a bug?” You ask, and venting raggedly, he doesn’t know what to make of you. Afraid of him, but so blunt. Almost like you fully expect him to hurt you. Like you’re used to it and resigned that it’s your lot. And staring at that discoloration around your eye, it clicks. He’s seen that on the human kids before. A bruise.

• That uncannily human face is frowning at you, huge servos warm where they’re wrapped around you. But not gripping you so tight you can’t breathe. Not breaking ribs even though he easily could. Which means you might get out of this unscathed, though given your track record, you doubt it. Hope is something for other people. “Humans aren’t supposed to know we’re here,” he says before looking down at the little robot that had wandered up to you first and his servos flex against you. You’re not sure if he can understand the little guy’s beeping, but he suddenly vents hard enough warm air stirs your hair. Laying your palms on his hand, you wonder what he’ll do to keep his existence secret.

• “Will it be quick?” You ask and he freezes, because you’re staring at him, expression oddly blank. And he understands that emptiness, of knowing that pain is coming for you no matter what you do. You took his words and assumed he’d end you to protect himself. No arguing or pleading, just tired acceptance, too broken to resist. Too beaten to even think about fighting.

• Optics narrowing at you, you wait for it to come. Honestly it’s kind of funny, you’d just assumed he would be the one to put in the ground eventually. Never expected this, though. If there’s any justice in the world, your death will still get pinned on him. He can spend the rest of his life sober and caged like an animal. One last act of spiteful rebellion against him. And you are laughing now, crying and coming apart all at once. “Primus,” the monster growls.

• Completely at a loss, he looks down at the Mini-Cons then at the human wheezing and sobbing and laughing like a mad thing in his grip. Much more broken than he’d thought. How much further could Megatron have pushed him until this was him? Cautiously, he runs a servo against your hair. Reaching out to you like the kids had reached out to him. And when you touch his servo with a trembling hand, you’re still crying as you look up at him and he knows he can’t just leave you here even if he wasn’t under orders to not be seen.

I caved and finally replaced my old Wacom tablet so I can remind myself that no, I cannot in fact draw

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #armada starscream

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silaslich · 2 days ago

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The heat of imposition

John “Soap” Mactavish x f!reader x Simon “Ghost” Riley

Summary - Rugby AU. While watching a rugby match with Kyle you happen to catch the attention of not one, but two of the players. Neither of them like the fact that the other wants you too. [part 1/3]

Wc - 4.8k

An - I know fuck all about rugby so ignore any inaccuracies, we’re here for sex not rugby

It isn’t by chance that you find yourself at the pitch.

Your arm had been twisted- hands tied. You’d lie and say you had no choice, but the truth is that you simply have nothing better to do on a random rainy Saturday in October.

Kyle hadn’t given you much of an alternative when it came to making plans; his idea of fun might be sitting in the cold as he nurses a cheap beer and ogles a cluster of beefed-up middle aged men while they run around tackling each other- but you? It wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when he’d texted you and asked if you were free to hang out.

You know him well enough to know that he’s called you in to be his wingman; someone to keep the beers coming to feed his already brimful confidence, someone that will push him if the chance for him to chat someone up arises. It’s what usually happens when the two of you meet for a drink or for dinner, his eyes wander and his intuition carries him toward the closest thing to a decent lay.

You’ll wave him off with a smile and mouth at him to call you when it’s convenient- usually to update you on how incredible or lacklustre the sex he’d abandoned you for was. You’re not bitter about it, not really, you have to give it to him. At least one of you is getting something. You suppose it’s for lack of trying, what with work and a sheltered nightlife- you can’t exactly say you’re putting yourself out there.

Kyle has tried time after time, sliding folded pieces of paper with your number scrawled on it to punters as they sit at the bar waiting for their drinks or pulling you with him as he ventures to the dance floor- accidentally bumping you into strangers, drawing their eyes and their attention. You appreciate his efforts, but you’re not exactly looking, it’s all the same to you. You’d slept around abit at uni and enjoyed it to a point, chasing that high and filling the endless void of assignments and work placements- you need something more now.

Settling is a scary thought. You’re not sure that’s what you’re after, but you don’t want a meaningless one-night stand either. You haven’t found that happy-healthy medium yet, you can’t be sure it exists. At least not to the men in this town, everyone knows everyone- it’s hard to get away from that.

You grit your teeth hard, feeling the way the cold ebbs its way into your bones. Even the beer isn’t keeping you warm, and that usually does the trick.

“Is it nearly over yet?” Your teeth chatter around the words, Kyle tuts at you.

“You can’t be serious” he turns to look at you, noting that you are in fact very serious. He frowns slightly. “It’s not even halftime yet”.

The sound that’s choked out of your throat makes him quirk a brow. Yet, Kyle’s attention is drawn back to the pitch by the sound of a whistle, some kind of swap between players has stilted the gameplay.

You’re not that well versed in rugby. Have kept up with it here and there, mainly because of Kyle and your boss because it’s all they talk about at work. They put it on every telly in the pub when their favourite team is on and they start to become idle when it comes down to the last few minutes of gameplay- stood there like toddlers that are transfixed by dancing fruits on a screen.

It’s quite funny really, watching Kyle as he barely tries to make it look as though he’s still working- rubbing a dry cloth over an already cleaned down table.

“Oh shit” Kyle’s breath carries on the breeze, drifting across your face as he speaks. It’s just that cold.

“What’s happening?” You mimic Kyle in the way he leans forward in his seat, watching carefully at what’s unfolding on the pitch.

Kyle doesn’t answer, instead watching as the away team’s players crowd together, meanwhile the home team congregates closer to their benches- they’re swapping someone on.

You see a wide smile crack across his face from out the corner of your eye, it pulls you to look at him fully. Seeing his wide-expectant eyes and gaped mouth, you grimace, slightly put off by just how much he’s enjoying watching on- you think you’d rather watch paint dry.

“When do they start brawling, ay? This is boring” you smack your lips together and take a heavy swig of your beer. It warms your throat, barely. Kyle turns to look at you, smiling like an idiot.

“Funny you should say that” he raises his brows and jerks his head in the direction of the players they’re swapping- you follow his gaze, it doesn’t enlighten you in the slightest.

You open your mouth to question him but Kyle beats you to it, already preempting your confusion and overall lack of culture for his favourite sport and his favourite team.

“They’re putting their main prop on, Riley” Kyle’s eyes watch the player in question and so do you, observing his team mates as they pump their fists and clap him on the back- following on as he moves further onto the pitch.

“He fight often?” You ask, eyeing the dark ink that stretches across both of his arms and retreats under the sleeves of his jersey.

There’s skulls and bones and snakes and gnashing teeth that make up a portrait of something that might be a dog. It’s hard to tell from all the way up in the stands; you’re sat within hearing distance of their shouts as the players go over strategy- but your eyes can’t quite focus enough to read the letters that brand his knuckles and the blocks of black ink that cover the backs of his hands. Shame.

Kyle laughs, something deliberate and knowing. “Yeah, you could say that”. His smile is hiding something, you just know it. You raise a wry brow.

“That why he was benched?” The look on Kyle’s face alone tells you all that you need to know, he nods as you shake your head with an unamused sigh.

“He’s been benched the last few games, close to being banned altogether from what I hear” Kyle observes Riley as he speaks, they’re about to restart play with a scrum.

You continue watching the game, noting another player that’s almost as big as Riley is. The back of his jersey reads Mactavish. He has a sharp smile on him, even with his mouth guard, you can’t closely see the rest of his features all that well, apart from his grown out mohawk- you didn’t realise this was the 70s.

Mactavish is quick to be on Riley, jumping high and wrapping his arms around the bigger man’s neck, hanging off him like a scarf. Their mouth-guard-smiles are wide and Riley swats at Mactavish, manhandling him until he’s got him hoisted off the ground entirely- that’s when he pushes him away and kicks his legs out from underneath him. Sending him skidding across the grass.

It’s rough housing. Simple play fighting. Kyle tells you it’s common practice for these two in particular, spending half their time butting heads and charging at each other like rhinos. Much to the dismay of their coach by the sounds of it. A whistle blows and it’s shrill in your ears.

“Pack it in bellends! Head in the game!” There’s a gruff looking man shouting from the side lines, he’s tall and broad with a beanie that’s pulled tight over his head- there’s specks of salt and pepper hairs in his mutton chops.

The two men snap their necks toward the coach and do as their told, trying to kick each others legs out from one another as they run toward where the rest of their team is forming up to restart play.

It’s starting to get interesting, because they’re not half bad to look at, these two, not half bad at all. Mactavish especially, bar the haircut. Riley on the other hand, he’s got that unconventional attractiveness about him; with his wonky nose and ashen blonde hair, hooded eyes that contrast heavily- they’re as dark as his tattoos. Perhaps it’s the way he carries himself too- his wide shoulders and thick chest, strong and solid and unbothered by the way the other men move out of his way when he passes the opposite team.

You don’t realise you’re gawping until Kyle waves his hand in front of your face, making you blink. He laughs to himself.

“Like what you see?” He asks, amused, watching as your cheeks flare. You bristle.

“Fuck off” you hate being caught out, especially after giving Kyle gripe this whole time about how boring all of this is. You stand abruptly, “I’m off to get something to eat, you want something?” Kyle eyes you, a smirk creeping up his face.

“Something salty if you don’t mind” he wags his brows and you smother your palm into his face as you squeeze past his legs to retreat down the steps toward the food kiosks. You hear his laugh follow you as you reach the bottom of the steps.

You keep an eye on the game as you walk, flitting your eyes from the pitch to the ground so you don’t slip on the steps. As you steal another glance over toward the home team, you find a pair of bright blue eyes looking right back at you. So blue they practically glow, burning right through you. As blue as celestite, something shines in them when he looks at you- but you’re quick to look away and scurry down the steps. Cheeks heating once again, for reasons even you’re not sure of.

It’s without your knowledge that Mactavish’s eyes follow you the entire time as you retreat. His stare trained on you. Distracted completely. Riley is quick to bring him back to earth, watching Mactavish watch you, he grunts as he steps toward the Scotsman, yanking out his mouth guard with a wet shlack sound.

“You ‘aven’t got a chance, now move your arse” Riley smacks the back of Mactavish’s head when he doesn’t move, watching you right up until the point you disappear out of his view. The Scot smiles wildly around his mouth guard, then spits it into his hand.

“Wanna bet?” he turns to Riley and Riley has seen that look before, many times, and it’s never ended well. Yet, he raises a brow as he looks down at the Scot, matching that same look himself.

After paying extortionate prices for a portion of chips and a burger to split you forego another beer each and go for water instead. It’s blatant daylight robbery.

You make a point not to look out onto the pitch as you make your way back to Kyle, save yourself from embarrassment and ending up falling on your arse. Kyle moves his knees to allow you past and you slump down into the seat, offering up the food to him so you can take a swig of water.

“You okay? You look flush, was it a long walk?” He picks up a few chips at a time as he shoves them into his mouth, chewing quickly and blowing air through his mouth from how piping hot they still are. You throw him a look, an unimpressed look.

“I’m freezing my tits off Kyle and I’m hungry, allow it” it’s a whine that leaves your mouth and Kyle soothes you mockingly, offering you some chips- you take them gladly.

Halftime comes and goes. The food has sated you, if only a little bit, but it saves Kyle from any more of your complaining. You find it easier to follow now, a belly full of food and the rest of Kyle’s beer that he didn’t want to finish- it makes you more palpable, makes you sit a little less stiff in your horribly uncomfortable plastic seat. Kyle appreciates it.

Mactavish and Riley don’t escape your eyes, not for the remainder of the game. It’s easier to gawp at them from up here, if they glanced over they wouldn’t exactly know that your eyes are fixed on them specifically, all they’d see is a pair of eyes looking in their general direction- obviously just following the ball as it passes hands. Little do you know, that they are indeed glancing over, as fixed on you as you are them, they’re just better at being sly with it. Only moving their eyes and not their heads and necks, not making it obvious. Not until Mactavish ups the ante.

It’s as you’re distracted for a second, turning your attention to your phone- your boss, Nik, asking if you can come in tonight. You text back quickly, letting him know you’ll see him at six. Looks like Kyle isn’t getting away from me at all today. That’s when you feel Kyle’s elbow in your ribs.

“Ow” you make a point to overemphasise, nudging his arm away from you like his touch burns.

“Look” his hand pats down repeatedly on your thigh as his opposite hand points towards the pitch, your eyes follow the point of his finger and your face pales.

It’s Mactavish. Waving both arms to get your attention, and when he has it his face beams- it makes you sink down into your seat, beyond blushed and embarrassed. He continues to wave as he rejoins the play, you watch the teams come back his way and then he winks at you, moving to turn fully to flank a teammate.

“Lucky bitch” Kyle’s mouth hangs open in shock, looking from you to Mactavish as he darts across the pitch. You groan.

“You have him then” Kyle laughs but you don’t, as nice as the player is to look at, you’re not in the mood for games.

“He wasn’t waving at me, love” he wags his brows and grabs your arm, flailing it around as he giggles like an idiot, far more excited for this than you are. You sit stock still and ignore Kyle, hoping he’ll pack it in. He does- eventually.

Before long, the game finishes and it’s the home team who are victorious. They jump and shout and knock into one another, again pulling each other into embraces and slapping each other’s backs with closed fists. It’s all well and good, you stand and pull Kyle with you- you’ve had enough of Rugby for one day.

Kyle lets himself be pulled along, filtering out amongst the thinning crowd. You’ve both got a few hours before you’re due to go into work, a quick nap wouldn’t go amiss, you guess it depends how fast Kyle can drive.

You’re walking in step with Kyle, careful of the slippy stairs, you clutch the sleeve of his jacket for stability and then there’s a voice that rings out. Thick with a Scottish accent and with an abundance of audacity to go with it.

“Oi! She yer lass or wha’?” It’s Mactavish, and he’s looking directly at Kyle, jogging over toward the stands.

Kyle stiffens and you glance at his face, he looks startled. Or would it be star struck? These players are celebrities to Kyle, you imagine this isn’t how he would want his first interaction with them to go. You watch Mactavish as he vaults over the first set of barriers, coming closer to where Kyle is now frozen to the spot- you’re stuck alongside him.

The stands are completely separate to the pitch and are raised up off of the ground instead of starting right at the pitch side, so Mactavish can’t actually get that close to talk. He instead has to settle for standing about ten foot beneath where you and Kyle are stood, craning his neck to grin up at the two of you. From this improved distance you can see him a lot clearer. There’s a prominent scar that cuts through his right eyebrow and reaches down his cheek and there’s the slight growth of stubble coming through on his cheeks and chin. He’s more handsome close up, you’ll give him that, it goes with the brashness he exudes. He knows he’s pretty.

He’s out of breath as he stands there, hands on his hips and so sweat slicked that you can see the way it drips down from his chin to his chest. It’s his eyes, still, they’re hardly natural. So bright and pale and beautiful to look at, you could fall right into them.

“Well?” The Scot wants an answer, you’re sure he won’t move until he’s got one.

Kyle wets his lips to speak but you cut him off.

“I’m no one’s lass, mate” there’s certain ways to hit on women, and coming right up to them and asking whoever they happen to be with if they’re single or not isn’t the best way- not in your humble opinion at least.

“Good news f’me then” his smirk cracks across his face, impossibly wide, your face doesn’t change at all. Still not impressed.

“What makes you think that?” It’s a honest question for him, does he think that because he plays a sport (sometimes)professionally that you’ll let him get in your pants? Does he seriously think that?

The man dips his chin as he stands there, shaking his head, it messes up the sweat-soaked length of his mohawk, when he looks back up at you again it’s messier then it had been. His smile is just as wide as before, his eyes crinkle from the autumnal sun as it beams from behind you. He flattens a palm to his chest and taps against it.

“Names Johnny” you raise a brow at him but it doesn’t deter him, not even in the slightest.

You’re not giving him clear indicators that you’re completely uninterested, more so that you don’t appreciate how he’s gone about the whole thing. Again, you must admit, he’s very lovely to look at.

It’s quick when you walk away, a game of chase, he can suffer for his pig-headedness. Kyle stands there, a little more than dumbfounded, while he wants to follow you- he also wants to speak with Mactavish, he’s been a fan for a long time. When he turns to look at the Scot down below, he finds him still smiling up at him, there’s a look of mischief in his eyes.

Only a few feet behind him stands another, it’s Riley, and he’d heard every word of your conversation with Johnny. He guesses the game is set now they know for sure that you’re single, but let’s be honest, they would have both been game even if you weren’t.

______________________________________

“Hold on a second, say that again?” Your jaw is locked tight, molars grinding, he can’t be serious.

Kyle scratches at the back of his head, sheepishly, there’s worry lines that are creasing his forehead as he looks between you and Nik. Good, he should be worried where you’re concerned. He fucked up.

“Look I said I’m sorry, alright? What was I supposed to say to him?” Kyle sits on a stool at the bar, opposite to where you and Nik stand side by side on the other side of it.

Nik throws you a glance and you shake your head at him, he’s just as unimpressed as you are, you both know that Kyle is smarter then this- at least, he is most of the time.

“How about not telling him where I work? Thats a start. May as well tell him where I live, Kyle” your tone drifts, while Kyle is your friend, he clearly hadn’t thought before he’d spoken. Thinking more about impressing his rugby idols than the safety of his best mate, these guys could be any breed of weirdo for all you know.

“I agree with her Kyle, you need to think before you say things like that” Nik folds his arms over his chest, thick brows furrowed as he stares at Kyle, who is scratching a single finger against the polished wood of the bar top.

You aren’t trying to gang up on him, he knows he shouldn’t have told Mactavish anything, but he still did- that wouldn’t change just because he suddenly felt bad. He’s got some grovelling to do, to say the least.

“Do you want to head home? I’m sure we can find a way to manage, doll” Nik’s eyes find yours, he’s always been a softie, always looking out for you like you’re the kid he never had. Your brows furrow.

“Absolutely not, I’m not about to be bullied out of work by a bunch of thick skulled ball chasers. Let ‘em try something Nik, they’ll soon find out” you leave the conversation at that, following the repeated wails of the glasswasher in the back as it lets you know it’s ready to be emptied.

—————————————————————————

For the most part, the night is typical. It’s a busy Saturday night in a louder part of town and there’s everyone from regulars to students to tourists. It’s an easier night for you thanks to Kyle, his want to get back in your good books means he’s doing all of the shit jobs. Cleaning the bogs and serving tables. Clearing the glasses away and scrubbing the sticky tables. All while you’re tucked behind the bar pulling pints and making drinks, it’s something you could get used to, Kyle should piss you off more often if this is the treatment you get.

You watch the clock out of habit and notice it’s almost half nine, only an hour and half before you close, not long before you can go home and wash the day away and sleep all of this off. You just have to get through another hour and a half unscathed, that’s it.

Mactavish dashes those plans.

Before you see them, you hear them. It looks like the whole team might be here, they pile in through the door and already look as if they’re half Irish. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, knowing you’re in full view of not just them but other customers too.

Mactavish squeezes through the bodies as they linger around the booths and seats, not all able to fit comfortably, Mactavish sings your name.

“Fancy seein’ you here, bonnie” he grins wide, no longer obstructed by the mouth guard.

Compared to earlier when he was covered in grass stains and sweat, you hate to admit that he scrubs up well. Dressed casually with a shirt that’s close to matching his eyes, he doesn’t seem like the type if you’re honest.

“Oh yes, what a coincidence” the sarcasm reaches, you watch it in his eyes, the way his jaw flexes. He smiles and shakes his head.

“Tough nut to crack, ain’t ya?” He’s unapologetic with the way his eyes wander, the music thumps loudly in your ears but you can still hear the heaviness the alcohol adds to his tongue.

“What makes you think I wanna be cracked?” You make a point to busy your hands, to do anything to distract you from his eyes, there’s lemons in front of you that need slicing- they’ll suffice.

He raises a brow at that. Sliding his elbows onto the bar, bringing his height down to yours, eye to eye, if you’d just look at him.

“Saw the way you were lookin’ at me bonnie” he drops his tone, practically husks the words, he’s teasing. You laugh.

“Bein’ pretty bold to say I’ve got a knife in my hand” you hammer the point in, bringing the knife down heavier then before against the chopping board only to raise it up to slide your finger across it to catch the juice. He watches you carefully.

“You know how to use it?” He asks, again teasing, seeing how much he can get away with. He wants to soften you up. It’ll take more than that.

“D’you wanna find out?” It’s an open question, depending on how he behaves he could very well lose a finger, you’d deal with any charges he might want to press tomorrow. He just grins at you stupidly.

“I wanna take you out” he leans forward, reaching an arm over the bar to swipe a lemon slice, you watch as he sucks it into his mouth. Never breaking his eyes from yours, he’s got you.

“I want a lot of things, doesn’t mean I can have ‘em” you haven’t clocked him yet, not completely, he seems pretty harmless. But don’t they all?

He hums, sliding the lemon out of his mouth between his fingers, considering you. “Could give ‘em to you” his eyes meet yours but you’re quick to look away, returning to the lemons.

You scoff. “If I agree to a date will you go away? I’m working” just because you agree to something doesn’t mean you’re obliged, you’ll think on it more clearly when you’re not at work- being stared at by those burning blue eyes.

“Pretty rubbish conditions if ye ask me” he slurps at the lemon obnoxiously, you see the flash of a tongue piercing.

“Well forget it then-“ he interjects.

“Chill yerself bonnie, I’m goin’” he holds his hands up in surrender as he stands back to his full height, the lemon slice is replaced back between his teeth- for a brief moment.

He moves to step away but he’s quick to turn on his heel, chewing the lemon down till it slots inside his cheek. “Be back for yer number to arrange that date” he wags a finger in your general direction as he speaks, quickly turning back toward the booth where his teammates are all squashed in together.

—————————————————————————

Half an hour. Just half an hour and you can start to close up. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel.

Mactavish had behaved since leaving you at the bar, hardly looking in your direction, which you appreciated. You didn’t need him and his stupid blue eyes knocking you off of your concentration, not when you’re handling this much glass. You steal a glance over at his table from time to time, hearing his roaring laugh and watching the way he interacts with his mates. They all look close. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, making them soft, sitting on each other’s thighs with arms slung around each others necks. You imagine it’s normal that they’re all so close, they must spend hours and hours and hours together just training let alone at matches.

It’s quietening down now as a whole, some tables still linger to chatter, like the rugby lot. Most have gone now, moving onto the better clubs, this is just a pit stop usually- somewhere to line their stomachs before they get so paralytic that they’re soon laid in the streets laughing their heads off or spewing their guts up.

It’s an opportune time to start clearing glasses, now that the bar is quiet if not ready to close. Gaz is in the cellar doing whatever it is that he does down there, you hate it down there. So you’ll take the better job of clearing glasses and shoving them in the washer, fully prepared to forget about them until you’re back tomorrow.

This is usually the case, balancing a dozen glasses on one tray because you’re too lazy to make two trips. You’re so close to the bar, almost within reaching distance, and then someone from the rugby table throws his hands up and throws you off balance.

You close your eyes as you feel yourself tumbling, you’ve had too many shards of glass blasted out of your eyes by Nik and his saline bottle of doom, so you squeeze them shut tightly. There’s suddenly a warm pressure that coils around your waist but you’re too distracted by the sound of the glasses smashing to think about it. You dare to crack your eyes open, gaze immediately falling to the ground and seeing the mess that you’ve made. For fucks sake. Your eyes skate from the broken glass on the floor to the hand at your waist, gripping you tight, flush with something solid.

From up close you can see now that the tattoos on his left knuckles read soul.

Riley’s breathing is heavy against your spine and you don’t move, you daren’t move, and it seems Riley is much the same. Not until you hear a whistle from across the rugby table.

“Looks real cosy, Simon” that accent, it’s Johnny.

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anxiousapplepie · 3 days ago

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hi i woke up this morning and my brain chose violence. so. so so so. the Death Corridor. who, uh. who's the trap finder in the role swaps? because i'm honestly not sure which is worse: your first loop coming out of the novel experience of being crushed to death by a giant rock, or your first loop coming out of the sheer distress of it happening to your friend.

and now, for happier thoughts! Mx. "please crush me into the mattress i am touch starved beyond comprehension" Siffrin (any of them) + Mr. "deliberately hand-Crafted myself into the human form of a weighted blanket" Isabeau (again, any of them) = joy! joy! joy for Siffrins! joy for one thousand years!

well, joy as soon as they can. y'know. say something about it. anyway! joy be upon ye! ^w^

Some mornings be like that! And buddy I am going to reward your brain for choosing violence because this is a TASTY thing to think about >:3c Atm I am thinking Siffrin is still the trap-master for all the roleswap AUs! Mostly because I laughed at the idea of Housemaiden!Siffrin being like "Oh yeah! I forgot! this is Death Corridor! I can't remember where the switch is to deactivate the trap, but the House is frozen in time so maybe the trap won't work anyway! I'm sure we'll be fine-" and instantly gets crushed like a pancake. The delightful idiot- can't even walk through his front doors without dying XD Bonnie is gonna scream bloody murder if it happens more than twice AS FOR THE HAPPIER THOUGHTS. You have no idea how much I am trying to resist drawing Fighter!Sif and Cook!Isa fluff bUT ALSO! Researcher!Siffrin, if they aren't wearing their cloak to bed for some reason post timeloops, lamenting "I miss the comforting weight of being crushed by all my books" Isa would be like "............. I might have an alternative solution." Joy is stored in the Sifs and Isas being disgustingly adorable <333

#ISAT Role!Swap AU #Joy for a thousand years #suffering for a thousand years too!!#the fun never ends when you've got so many flavors of your favorite dorks to stir together into self-indulgent cocktails!

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valkyrieromanoff · 2 days ago

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God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

PREVIOUS NEXT

CHAPTER THREE: NIGHT BREEZE

synopsis: after Anakin's embarrassing outburst at the wedding anniversay, you escape to the ship's deck for some air—only to find yourself face-to-face with your boyfriend's father once again.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, mild flirting in front of his wife

words: 1.4k

a/n: hello there, I'm so happy with the engagement the fanfic is getting, I'm thinking of having 10 chapters. So, get ready because in the next ones we'll have a little more action, if you know what I mean… kisses, and enjoy reading ;)

The mixture of alcohol and the constant sway of the high seas was a disastrous combination. You realized this as your steps wavered across the deck, each movement feeling heavier, less certain. The lingering tension from dinner still buzzed in your veins, amplified by the wine that had flowed too freely. Luke had left, needing time alone after the awkward family reunion. You hadn’t noticed his departure until the silence around you grew loud and the chill of solitude seeped in.

You staggered, the thin heels of your sandals a cruel joke on the uneven deck. Squinting, the world swayed, lights blurring into golden halos. "Oh, for fuck’s sake," you muttered, the words slurred and childlike. Your foot caught on an unseen groove, the delicate heel wedging firmly into the platform's slope. You shifted your weight, trying to free it, but your movements were slow, uncoordinated. The imbalance felt inevitable, gravity pulling you into its sway.

Suddenly, strong hands gripped you. “I got you, angel.” Anakin's hoarse whisper ignited goosebumps along your skin, his breath hot against your ear. The scent of whiskey and spice enveloped you, grounding and disorienting all at once. He held you suspended a few inches off the ground, one arm around your back, the other firm on your waist.

You met his intense gaze, an electric current crackling between you, unspoken desires simmering in the depths of his eyes. His fingers, strong and calloused, pressed into your waist, searing through the thin fabric of your dress. Every nerve seemed to wake under his touch. Neither of you moved, the moment stretching into something charged and unspeakable. When he finally set you back down, his hand lingered, the heat of his palm a brand against your skin.

You tried to speak—to thank him, to say anything—but the words tangled, emerging as a soft, incoherent murmur. His eyes danced with amusement, a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Oh, angel, do you need some help?” His voice was a low, teasing drawl, the nickname sending a shiver down your spine.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. He smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he knelt before you. The sight made your breath hitch. His hands, strong and sure, slid over the arch of your foot, fingertips barely brushing your skin.

The feather-light contact sent electric tingles racing up your leg, each touch igniting sparks that spread through your body like wildfire. You couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips, the sound barely audible with the waves of the sea, but he heard it, his eyes drawing back to yours, a smoldering intensity burning in their depths.

With careful precision, he unbuckled the delicate strap of your sandal, his fingers warm against your ankle as he worked. It was a simple task, but the way he touched you, the way his gaze never left your face, made it feel like so much more. Like he was unwrapping a precious gift, reverent and hungry all at once. As he slid the shoe off, his touch lingered, calloused fingers skimming along the sensitive skin of your instep, drawing another breathy sigh from your parted lips.

Anakin's eyes never left yours as he repeated the process with your other sandal, his movements slow, deliberate, each touch a caress. The heat of his gaze seared your skin, igniting a different kind of fire low in your belly. By the time he straightened, both shoes removed, you were flushed and trembling, your body thrumming with the force of your desire.

He held out your sandals, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Can't have my angel stumbling around all night." The words were casual, but the underlying growth in his voice hinted at a deeper possessiveness. As you took the shoes from him, his fingers brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice small and unsteady.

Anakin’s eyes softened, the intensity giving way to something warmer. “Come on, let’s get our feet wet,” he suggested, taking your hand. His grip was firm, grounding, as he led you to the pool.

You watched, bemused, as he sat at the edge, pulling off his shoes and rolling up his pant legs before dipping his feet into the water. He looked up, a boyish grin softening his features. “The water’s good.”

Tentatively, you joined him, gathering your dress in your lap as you dipped your feet in. The cool water was a relief, soothing the ache you hadn’t noticed from the heels. The tension in your shoulders began to melt.

But the relief was temporary, quickly replaced by a different kind of tension as Anakin's thigh brushed against yours. You tense, heart racing, the heat of your skin burning through the thin fabric of your dress.

Anakin's eyes were on you, warm and intense. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low, his thumb brushing over your knee.

You nodded, swallowing hard, trying to find your voice. "Yeah, just... tired." The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but it was easier than admitting the truth. That you were dizzy with forbidden desire, that every touch from him set your nerves on fire.

He smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. "Well, then, let's relax." His hand slipped higher up your thigh, his touch light but insistent. Your breath hitched, the ache between your legs growing with each passing second.

You couldn’t look away. Every inch of you was hyper-aware—of the way his shirt clung to his broad shoulders, of the roughness in his voice when he’d spoken your name. On the way his fingers had lingered on your skin, igniting something dangerous.

You knew this was wrong, knew that he was your boyfriend's father – well, technically, you're just pretending to be Luke's girlfriend, but still – he’s married, so much older than you. But none of that seemed to matter in the face of the raw, pulsing need that consumed you. Your eyes fluttered closed as his hand crept higher, your hips shifting unconsciously, seeking more of his touch.

Anakin's breath hitched, his fingers stilling. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His gaze drifted to your lips, his own parting slightly. Your breath hitched. The space between you felt electric, fragile. Time seemed to slow, the air thick with unspoken desires and impossible possibilities.

Would he kiss me? The thought was intoxicating, terrifying. Do I want him to? Your heart pounded, each beat a thunderous echo in your chest. The answer, whispered from somewhere deep and reckless within you, was undeniable.

Yes.

The silence stretched, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you. His hand, rough and warm, shifted slightly, almost reaching for you. You leaned in, breathless, the scent of him—spice and whiskey—filling your senses.

But before the moment could shatter into reality, footsteps echoed on the deck. You both froze, the spell broken. You pulled away abruptly, your heart hammering as the sound grew closer.

A uniformed crew member appeared, clearing his throat apologetically. “I’m sorry, but the pool is closed at this hour.”

You swallowed, cheeks flaming. “Oh, of course. Sorry.” Your voice felt too loud, too breathless.

Anakin’s eyes never left you as he stood, extending a hand to help you out of the water. His grip was firm, steadying you when your legs wobbled. He held your high-heeled sandals in one hand, his gaze lingering as if he wanted to say something, but the words hung unspoken between you.

You stood there for a moment, barefoot on the cool deck, your eyes locked. The world seemed to tilt, every rational thought fleeing in the face of what had almost happened. What would have happened?

As you walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last, the questions swirled in your mind, relentless. Would I have let him kiss me? The answer, a dangerous yes, twisted your stomach with guilt and something darker—desire.

You reached your cabin, sliding down against the door, heart pounding. The cool metal at your back did nothing to calm the heat still simmering under your skin.

What the hell am I doing? This was Luke’s father. Married. Older. Everything about it was wrong.

Yet the memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, burned like a bonfire. The trip was going to be harder than you’d ever imagined. And a part of you, a reckless part you tried to ignore, knew you were already in too deep.

#anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #dilf anakin x reader #dilf anakin #alternative wolrd #star wars #hayden christensen

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sapphhireblue · 2 days ago

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𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭

⟡ pairing: han taesan x fem reader

⟡ genre: nsfw (mdni), drabble, fluff, roommates to ??, kissing, foreplay, fingering, nipple play

⟡ tw: teasing, orgasm denial

⟡ wc: 1.1k

⟡ net: @onedoornet

⟡ a/n: well well isn't it almost winter? here's a summer fic to tease your longing for a hot day w taesan

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It's an excrusiatingly hot summer day. The couch feels overly warm, leaving a print of sweat on the brown leather when touched. You look at Taesan, who's busy playing mario kart sitting beside you sucking on a lemon popsicle. Both of his hands are busy fidgeting with the joystick, while his ice lolly is resting prettyily between his plush lips.

He gazed over at you through his curtain bangs to see you drooling. He deducted it might be the frozen treat, and not you thirsting over your cute roommate who you have the hots for. "It's in the fridge, there are lots of flavours" he says with a playful tone; his lemon tainted tongue peeking from between the words. You rush over to the fridge to grab the one you like, strawberry rush. You suit yourself on the couch again, legs folded not to draw attention to your scant silk shorts. But something tells you his eyes took a peak. You fixate on the lolly, putting your almost soaked hair in a bun, while it rests between your lips.

A sweatdrop runs down your neck and you can still feel the burning stare. "Enjoying the sight?" You give a teasing stare to taesan and he is flabbergasted. He furrows his eyebrows, "As if" paying attention to the game again. You start licking it with your tongue, brushing back and forth, sucking it occasionally. Taesan takes glances at you from playing the game, how exposed your legs look from thighs down. How the messy hair frames your face and the thin top becomes transparent due to sweat. Your tongue gets tainted with bright pink from the lolly, so does his mind with unknown colors.

And a rush, a subtle rush bubbling from inside. He bites down his treat to supress the forbidden thoughts. You, moderately oblivious to the fact, enjoy sucking yours. Taking in the cold it has to suffer, your throat feels finally at peace. Taesan notices your flushed cheeks, crafted by the heat. You look cute. He bites his tongue facing his own thought. He shakes his head and tries focusing on the game again. It doesn't get any better when you are savouring it furiously, sucking it whole and taking eager bites. Fixing your bangs with the back of your palm and he can't help but gulp down. How it'll feel having his length around your mouth- he bites his bottom lip and focuses on the game again.

The lolly leaks some drops and makes its way on your crop top, right on the crook of your chest, making a mess. Spreading even more when you fix it with your lolly smothered fingertips. Taesan noticing the sight, takes a tissue and presses it. You get startled at the sudden movement but only keep licking your lolly as it drips down more. He starts cleaning it, dabbing it softly and soaking up the fluid.

But his eyes get stuck at your swollen pink lips. You accidentally catch him on the spot and your lips form a smirk. "What?" you ask with a sneer. "Nothing" he says coldly, still cleaning your top. "Want a taste?" you speak directly looking into his boba pearl eyes, almost at the end of his wit. You are pretty sure you implied having a taste of the lolly and not your lips which he is brutally pressing againt his at the moment. His hands slides down to your palm holding the lolly, it drips on his thumbs but who's taking count of that when he's busy exploring the insides of your mouth. His tongue darts inside, taking over yours in a winning fight of control. You close your eyes, shock melting away at sense of his luscious lips.

The room fills with erotic sounds, he takes in the tangy starwberry scent as he captures your lips from one side to another in a hungry pace.

"I want to do so much more to you." He whispers, pulling back from you with a string of saliva, leaving you wanting for more. His cold fingertips sliding under the back of your top and teasing the skin beneath. Your breath hitches at the sound, you start to get nervous.

Taesan was madly enjoying it, like a payback for all the taunts you give him. "What, you don't like the way you're feeling right now?" He questions, his eyes blazing with a glint, you can't quite figure out. "Because I can see how turned on you are." His hand cups your breast, thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple through your shirt. "Your body is already responding to me" You close your eyes in pleasure, only sparing the approval "fuck, taesan.." He pulls you closer, his lips crash down at your once again. He pulls your peak with this thumb and index, rolling it in between. "I want all of you" he murmurs against your ears. His hand slides down to your thigh, hitching it up around his waist.

He moves his hand back up to your breast, squeezing lightly before sliding his hand down between your legs. You lightly moan his name "taesan.. " a plead, more so an invitation to finally ruin whatever was casual and repressed between you two. You rest your hands on his chest when he rubs against your clit firmly through the shorts, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"I can tell you're soaked for me already". "that feels so good.." you let your thoughts out verbally, he increases his pace with a smirk. His other hand teases your nipples, making it portrude outward. His thumb, lulls down your folds in between, to edge you further. You throw your head back, a certain annoyance playing on your eyebrows, for, you want to reach the high he's denying. "Faster" you say with a desperate need and he can't help but scoff. "You want me so bad? Say, please then" he asks removing your top.

".. taesan" you hold his wrist, as he deliberately slows down more. "I said, please"

"Please.."

"Should've said so" he strokes your clit in a haste, engulfing one of your nipple in his mouth. It draws a circular motion, smothering it with his saliva. The panties end up on the floor moments after. He inserts his middle, followed by his ring finger and pushes through. You throw your head back again, he continually moves it around your hole. You grab his hair, interwining in a tangled way with his soft strands, reaching your high. He sees your breath rising, your abdomen going up and down. He thrusts it this time with more urgency, then your back arches, giving you that sweet release. Your mind goes into the oblivion. He massages the area to ease you up, before parting with your folds and your release on top of his index. He gently licks it off, staring at you mischievously, "Tastes like strawberries"

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twoflowers · 1 day ago

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Sentimentality - Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: The newest addition to the Straw Hat crew grapples with their easy affection, and especially with the attention from their doting cook.

Tags: SFW, character study, slight slash, scientist reader, no use of Y/N, female reader. First impressions, nakamaship.

Word count: 1397

Special thanks to @mere-mortifer for the encouragement to post my Sanji fics. I love your Sanji very much.

This one isn't very slash-y and honestly feels a bit incomplete to me, but I'm obsessed with this man in a psychological way and need to post at least something, even if it captures only an ounce of my insanity about him and the crew.

Also: thinking about making this into more of a series (as the reader is kind of based on an OC of mine...!). Please, please, Sanji fans: give me any and every prompt you can imagine.

Sentimentality

Every morning you settle into the golden-glowing comfort of the breakfast table: the press of arms against arms, the jostling of bodies to the time of the waves, the hard wooden bench softened despite it all.

The captain is not at all what you expected. He’s a kid, and a downright grabby one at that. You have to slap his rubbery hands away from your plate at every meal, and if you don’t catch him, Nami always does.

You sit next to Chopper, whose tiny, furry body is so very warm. He likes to plan the day over breakfast, still thrilled to have another scientist on board. You watch him nibble at pancakes with his blocky teeth (it really is hard not to coo over him, but he has his dignity to uphold, so you restrain yourself!) and sip his milk and grin, white mustache and all. Robin leans over with a napkin to clean Chopper’s mouth, and he fusses, but concedes. Some of his drawings hang on the fridge, secured by magnets. You think of siblings with a pang in your chest every time you see them.

Roronoa Zoro is inexplicably softer than you imagined. There’s something about the curve of his cheeks, the careless sprawling stance, the way his nose whistles lightly while he sleeps. He barks laughter at Luffy, leans on his swords like they’re children, even smells better than Nami likes to say.

Robin terrified you at first, but you quickly became a sucker for her mellow gaze and old book smell. Besides, educated women are always of interest to you. Nami and Robin are incredible, always encouraging: proof that somehow, someway, a woman who has been chased out of her old life and hunted by the darkest parts of herself can uncurl and be seen.

The first few sleepless nights aboard the Going Merry, you stared at the ceiling, heart pounding at the vulnerability of sharing a room. You are a scientist. You’ve long denounced the need for sentimentality, though Luffy manages to wring a few spare drops out of you every day. How could you have accounted for the love that permeates every board of this ship? How have you gone your entire life wondering if belonging like this could exist, only to find it among a notorious pirate crew- a crew who, really, is more bumbling than you could have imagined? How can Luffy stroll into any place- town, restaurant, heart- and break down every wall without a second thought?

And the cook…

You have to look away from him sometimes. The first time he made a meal for you, he sank to a kneel to present it, like he was a servant and you were a queen who could take his head at any moment, and have it willingly. You took the plate with shaking hands and nodded a thank you. When he stood back up, there was a bit of dust on the knee of his fine-pressed pants. You kept your eyes on it as he fluttered around, crooning to the women and brusquely serving the men. What were you supposed to make of that?

Sanji squeezes your heart like it’s an old rag. The way he remembers your favored flavor profiles makes your toes curl. You’re not even sure you’ve managed to smile at him yet, even a month after joining the crew, because he throws you so off-balance you’re left feeling like you’ve been thrust into a hurricane without any solid structure to grip onto.

His… whatever it is- admiration, loyalty, devotion, all of the above and more- has only gotten stronger in the past month. He floats into the lab as if on a cloud to tell you he made you a snack and left it outside, mindful of the potential for contamination. He tells you how lovely your eyes look that day, and every day- that you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and that he lives to serve you.

“A snack for you is outside, miss,” he says today, like he’s itching to bow. “I prepared carrot cake and spiced milk for you, with turmeric, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Let me know if anything is not to your liking.”

You side-eye him from your bench, pipette paused in midair. Miss, miss, miss. Every time he says it you’re left breathless. As usual, you nod and mutter a thank you, still focusing on your work, lest you do something stupid like offering him your hand to kiss or backing him into a wall to taste his neck.

He usually leaves right away, but you don’t hear the door close today. When you look back at Sanji, he’s beaming, eyes practically heart-shaped.

“May I make anything else for you?”

“No. That will suffice.” Something in your chest is shouting at you for being so formal with him.

“I like carrot cake,” you add.

Sanji’s smile turns tremulous and melty. A hand moves to cover his heart. “I will keep that in mind. And I don’t wish to disturb you- your work is very important- but it will be best eaten soon, while it’s still warm.”

You surprise yourself by setting down your pipette and moving to the sink to wash your hands. Sanji is still lingering at the door as you scrub between your fingers and under your nails, similar to the way he washes his after handling raw meat. You take extra time drying off, the feeling of him behind you prickling at your neck.

In the hallway, the cake and milk are placed carefully on a table. The mug is to the top right of the plate, handle tilted at the perfect angle for you to grab. A dainty dessert fork leans against the plate, next to two sprigs of mint forming a heart.

“I almost don’t want to eat it,” you say. “It looks perfect.”

“I can make you as many as you’d like, all with love. Please. It’s my pleasure.”

You lift the fork, and Sanji leans forward with the eagerness of a child witnessing a magic trick. When you take a bite of the cake, his visible eye widens.

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Sanji.”

Sanji lets out a shaky breath. “Of course, miss. I can make you anything your heart desires, provided I have the ingredients. And if I don’t, I will make sure to procure them as soon as we make landfall. And if you want them before that, I'll swim to shore.”

Why does the man have such puppy-dog eyes? You know with certainty that he would do anything you asked of him, or else die trying, and you’ve hardly spoken to him. There’s a string of tension in his body when he’s around you, loosened slightly now that you’ve complimented his food. Is he just that eager to please?

You have met many men happy to go through the motions of wooing you for one reason alone, but something about Sanji tells you that he would be at your beck and call for the rest of your life, even if you never said “thank you” again.

You nod, moving to try the spiced milk, which is, of course, perfect.

“I noticed that you like cinnamon, so I tweaked the recipe to add more.” He sounds hopeful. “You don’t find the turmeric overpowering?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, lowering the drink. “It’s good. You’re very… perceptive.”

“Of course! I pay special attention to my lovely ladies.”

You’re included in this group, somehow. Why does that make you want to push and prod at him, despite the measured indifference you’ve culminated?

“Sanji,” you say, and he snaps to attention.

“Yes?”

“Could I have some marmalade with this?”

This is the first time you’ve requested anything from him. A broad smile spreads across his face.

“Right away.” He falls into a bow before walking down the hallway. When he’s out of view, you hear him begin to run, legs pounding the wooden floor strong enough to rattle the pictures frames on the walls.

You pluck a sprig of mint from the cake, grinding it between your teeth. It’s refreshing, new, with a bit of a kick. You smile to yourself, imagining Sanji in the kitchen, carefully scooping marmalade into a dainty dish, heart thrumming with the thrill of receiving an order from his newest object of affection.

#sanji x reader #one piece sanji #opla x reader #one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x you #character study #fluff #this is my first fic for sanji and it's not very slashy #but it certainly contains some of my tenderness for this silly cook #sub sanji #sure i'll tag that!#sanji calling me miss would fix me.#my fics

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goodyordle · 2 days ago

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An Analysis on Season 2 Vi

SPOILER under the cut

I have SO many thoughts about how they wrote Vi this season. So I get that they wanted to go with a more vulnerable Vi this season compared to the tough character we had in season 1. I was excited for this direction for her character, that’s why I’m kind of disappointed that she felt flat and more one-dimensional this time around.

Firstly, I felt like in season 1, Vi was such a centerpiece to the show. From her relationship with Jinx and following Vander’s legacy. She actively moves the plot with these two elements.

But in season 2, I barely see her do anything that contributes to the plot actively and takes a much more passive role. This time, Caitlyn and Jinx are taking the lead on shaping her goals (whether this is her becoming an enforcer or her saving Vander). As a viewer, I do empathize with Vi. We see time and time again that she is a character that values loyalty and keeping her loved ones close to her, and she keeps getting betrayed.

But we never see these arcs get resolved, at least in a satisfying manner. We never see her find strength in her vulnerability or regain courage to find herself again. And this is an arc that most, if not all, characters in Arcane had. All of them had some sort of redemption and willingness to make things right.

We never see Vi try to grow beyond her comfort zone (which is using her fists / brawling). We don’t see her use her vulnerability as a new way to show toughness to her character.

For instance, the argument with Caitlyn. Now I enjoy this ship as much as the next person but I felt like the conflict got resolved a bit too quickly? It’s clear that Vi’s trauma of betrayal and abandonment runs deep (man, I feel so bad for her tbh).

My interpretation of this last shot of Cait and Vi (after Caitlyn asks “are you still in this fight, Violet?), in my opinion, also reflects this lack of resolution, where Vi generally looks more closed off. There is no raw vulnerability that Vi displays. She never expressed how hurt she was with Caitlyn’s actions. Even when Vi says she is the “dirt under Cait’s fingernails��, her expression looks quite pained and tired.

Then we have the argument with Jinx. Their sibling dynamic is the key plot of Arcane and is a heavily emphasized theme but their resolutions feel underwhelming both times.

The first time was when Jinx locked her up in the cell. I mean the fact that Vi didn’t immediately go look for Jinx given that she was depressed felt a bit out of character for me. Like she gave no emotional reassurance to Jinx who was obviously guilt-ridden from Isha’s death. Again, no vulnerability. And the placement of the Caitvi *cough cough* scene was questionable, considering it was right after Jinx expressed her anguish. Yes, she wants Vi to be happy, but wasn’t Vi’s character this whole time shown as one who is happy when she can take care of the people she loves?

Like if I were to draw a parallel to Jayce and Viktor, where Jayce says that he just wants his partner back, they could’ve had done something similar between Vi and Jinx. Vi could have expressed that she just wanted her family back. She needed her sister, which is something she never expressed because the dynamic was always of Jinx needing Vi.

Anyways back to that scene, I felt like it would have been more impactful honestly if Caitlyn even encouraged Vi to find her sister since I think that is quite fitting to Caitlyn’s arc as well and adds more depth to her feelings towards Jinx. If they had a bit more emotional resolution, I feel like her final scene with Jinx would have been more impactful. (And probably would add more emotional weight and spiciness to the Caitvi scene too iykwim)

That brings me to the second scene when Jinx sacrifices herself. The aftermath felt too rushed for me. When we have Vi acting like “normal” right after Jinx’ sacrifice, it diminishes their relationship in my eyes. Granted, I doubt she’s normal. In fact, I think Vi looks really resigned in her final scene but again, this is a bit difficult to pick up if there are no context clues.

Like in terms of the concept, I get it. I believe the writers were trying to make a full circle moment where Vi, who was the protector of her little sister, is now the one being protected by Jinx, who is now all grown up. It’s just the execution that doesn’t sit too well with me. Maybe it’s the pacing because I feel like as a viewer, you have to digest so many emotional scenes at once.

I just wish we had more opportunities to see Vi be vulnerable and show that as a source of new strength and as a way to reinforce her relationships with Jinx and Caitlyn. But unfortunately, her character development ended up static. And honestly she’s such a tragic character that had that potential. They showed her trauma even in the final scene with Vander/Warwick and how she couldn’t even bring herself to move despite Jinx’ warning. Like show more of that!! Let her be the one that needs to be protected by those she used to protect, instead of just following them around and beating up their enemies. As a result, I felt like she didn’t really add much weight to the finale (low key Maddie had more of a plot). Like this show is still a 10/10 with solid writing but this, after processing the show, I believe is its weakest point.

They can never make me hate you, Vi, you deserved a better character arc :(

#arcane #arcane s2 #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane season 2 spoilers #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #arcane season two #arcane vi #jinx #vi arcane #arcane caitlyn #vi and caitlyn #caitvi #caitlyn and vi #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #jinx and vi #vi and jinx

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