#but in the instance that it’s not and you’re the person who sent this in (a while ago oops)

[tr4ggot]

Look into Claudia De la Cruz! She's a 2024 presidential candidate with the Party for Socialism and Liberation and she is actively participating in pro-Palestine protests.

on the off-chance this isn’t a bot that flagged my account because i posted that i won’t vote for biden, i wanted to clarify that i purposefully will be abstaining from voting, not just voting for someone else, in the 2024 election for a few reasons.

for one, i live in california. in los angeles county. we will be a blue county regardless of my vote, including my district. my abstention will have no effect on the outcome of the election. i would have otherwise held my nose and voted for biden again, but the point is that he lost my, and many other of my peers, votes, through intentional inaction in the face of genocide. to vote for another candidate would just be stepping on a different rake.

secondly, i am a progressive, but also understand how politics really works in terms of parties. voting anything other than democrat or republican is in practice casting a symbolic vote. there is no near future where any other party gains any degree of power in our government, by design. the last time there was a powerful third party to vote for in this country was a good 25 presidencies ago. when the upcoming election will be between someone who has enthusiastically and emphatically positioned the force of an empire against a people suffering a genocide against the will of the empire’s citizens, and a bumbling fool who is ready, willing, and eager to fully embrace fascism and punish political enemies, where both candidates are so reprehensible and morally bankrupt, to vote for either or even participate in the system that enabled them would be such a betrayal of every value i hold close that i could not and will not, especially when my vote would be in effect meaningless otherwise.

people can do as they wish, but i will not play a part in any of it.

and as a side, palestine will be free, but it will not be because of whatever american politicians do, it will be in spite of what they do.

[greengoblinswifey]

Can I request a Nicholas Chavez smut? Pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏😫 I was thinking maybe something where they have A LOT of sexual tension, and like they flirt and that stuff

Lovvvvv u💗

Just Friends— Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings— lots of flirting and sexual tension, oral(f), hand job, praise kink, ass slapping and grabbing, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, L bomb, fluff?

a/n— love you too, hope you enjoy my interpretation. yes it’s very long as usual, i had to capture the essence <3

Nicholas had been your friend for years, the type of friend who felt as familiar as ‘family’ but kept you on edge with the kind of sexual tension that always lingered just under the surface. You’d been there through his rise in the acting world, tagging along to premieres and red carpets as his “bestie.” Of course, all of your friends saw the way you two interacted, flirting that went far beyond innocent banter, lingering touches, and the looks you exchanged that seemed to say everything except “just friends.”

The first time he backed you up against a wall was at one of his movie nights. The rest of your friends were in the next room laughing over some game, but you and him had drifted to the kitchen for snacks. Somewhere between grabbing popcorn and pouring drinks, he leaned in close, his arm resting above your head, caging you in.

“You know, you’re a terrible influence,” he whispered, his face just inches from yours.

“Oh really?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Says the guy who’s about to be on his third cup of vodka.”

“No,” he murmured, voice low as his gaze fell to your lips, “I mean, the way you look at me.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Your breaths mingled, his eyes locking onto yours as he leaned in closer, his lips an inch away from yours. But then he smirked, as if breaking the tension intentionally, and stepped back.

Moments like these happened all the time. Like the photoshoots you’d both do just for fun, candid snaps and Polaroids capturing the way you looked at each other. In one, you were staring at him, your hands on his shoulder while his was around you waist, pulling you close, and in another, he was giving you a look that made you feel like the only person in the world. Anyone who saw them would have sworn there was something going on, but you always waved it off.

In one instance, the two of you were back at his place after an event, still dressed up, the excitement of the night still thrumming through you. Nicholas loosened his tie, watching as you kicked off your heels and stretched out on his couch, looking up at him with a smirk.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you teased, “and I might start thinking you’ve got a little crush.”

He scoffed, but there was a glint in his eye. “Oh, please. If anyone here has a crush, it’s you.”

You laughed, pretending to scoff, but leaned forward. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, you were the one who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves tonight.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to,” he replied, his voice dropping, and he took a step closer until he was standing over you. He leaned down, placing his hands on either side of you. “And what if I said I don’t want to keep my hands to myself now?”

Your breath hitched as his lips hovered near yours, but you weren’t about to break eye contact. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He lingered, his eyes scanning your face before dropping to your lips. “Just making sure you’re as ready as you’re acting,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers through you.

You felt a spark ignite, leaning up just enough so your lips almost touched his. “Nicholas, if you’re going to do something, now’s your chance.”

He grinned, biting his lip as if savoring the moment, but he pulled back, leaving you on edge. “Oh, I will. When you least expect it.”

Another night, you were at a friend’s place for a get-together, squeezed onto a crowded couch beside Nicholas. Someone made a joke about the two of you potentially being a cute pair and you rolled your eyes, but Nicholas just smirked, sliding an arm over your shoulder.

“Guess they’re onto us,” he whispered, leaning close to your ear so you felt the warmth of his breath. “Or maybe you’ve just made it too obvious you can’t resist me.”

You raised an eyebrow, nudging him lightly. “Resist you? Please, I’m just letting you hang around so I don’t break your heart.”

He chuckled, playing along. “Oh, yeah? Because I seem to remember a certain someone texting me at two in the morning, needing ‘company.’”

You felt your cheeks flush, but you shot him a quick, mischievous smile. “Company,” you retorted, “doesn’t mean anything more than a little late night fun.”

He tilted his head, giving you that same intense, teasing look. “Oh, so I’m just ‘late-night fun’ now?”

You shrugged, looking back at him with a challenging smile. “What can I say? You’re good for a laugh and a distraction.”

Nicholas laughed, pulling you a little closer. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

The “late night fun” you spoke of was just Nicholas helping you re decorate, watch your favorite tv show with you and continuing the banter.

Another time, you were at your apartment, watching a movie he had starred in on the couch. At some point, his arm settled across the back of the couch behind you, his fingertips lightly brushing your shoulder.

“You’re comfortable, right?” he asked, his tone smooth but a little too casual.

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “Unless you’re planning to do something that’d make me, uncomfortable?”

He smirked, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. “Only if you ask nicely.”

At a party, you’d both been teasing each other all night, throwing playful glances across the room. Later, in a quiet corner, he slid his hand down to your lower back as you leaned in close to talk.

“You know,” he whispered, “I think you like it when I drive you a little crazy.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm, maybe. But it’s nothing compared to what I could do to you.”

His eyebrow arched, a grin spreading across his face. “Is that a promise?”

“Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out,” you shot back, biting your lip.

“Dancing, huh?” you teased again as he pulled your flush against him to the rhythm of the music, meeting his eyes. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

He shrugged, but his grip tightened ever so slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold you.”

Your heartbeat quickened, but you kept your cool. “You don’t need an excuse.”

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping lower. “Good to know.”

Another time, late one night after a fun evening, you and Nicholas were walking back to his car together. Your fingers brushed as you passed each other on the sidewalk, a simple touch, but it sent a shiver down your spine. As you both approached the car, he stepped in front of you, blocking your way for just a second before he opened your door for you.

His voice was soft, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it. “Are you sure you want to go back home alone tonight?”

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, and said, “Why? You worried about me?”

He stepped even closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he whispered, “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just not ready to let you go yet.”

After this, you were standing near a group of people at a Hollywood party, but Nicholas was leaning against the wall just across the room, watching you, his eyes following every move you made. When you turned to meet his gaze, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you staring at me?” you asked playfully, your voice carrying just enough edge to tease.

He didn’t break eye contact, his gaze darkening as he took a slow step toward you, his tone low. “Maybe. I’m just trying to figure out if the rest of them can see what I see.”

You took a step closer. “And what’s that?”

“That you’re mine,” he said, his lips brushing just barely against your ear as he leaned in close. “And I’m not sharing.”

“Yours?”

“Y-yeah, you’re my best friend after all.” You’d never seen him this flustered and you both just laughed it off.

The two of you kept playing that game, a series of almosts, leaving you both hungry for the moment one of you would finally make the move neither could take back. Then it happened.

The after-party of the event Nicholas invited you to was alive with flashing lights and the low hum of conversation as he scanned the crowd, searching for you. When he spotted you in the corner, his jaw clenched. You were backed against a wall, leaning into a conversation with some actor whose name he didn’t care to remember. Your gaze was all doe-eyed and captivated, the same way you looked at him whenever the two of you got a little too close.

Before he knew it, Nicholas was striding across the room, sliding between the two of you and placing a firm hand on your waist. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer, pulling you away with that possessiveness you’d never quite seen before.

As soon as you were away from the other guy, you couldn't help but tease him, looking up with a smirk. “What was that about? I thought we were just friends?”

“Friends, huh?” he murmured, a challenge glinting in his eyes. He didn’t let go of your waist, keeping you close as if daring anyone to interrupt again.

The two of you spent the rest of the night practically glued to each other. On the dance floor, you found yourselves moving in sync, his hands on your hips as you swayed, flush against each other’s body.The warmth and closeness, the way his fingers skimmed your skin, left you breathless.

By the time you left and climbed into the backseat of his car, both of you were a little tipsy, laughter spilling between flirtatious exchanges and you could feel your pulse racing.

As you stepped inside his house, you threw him a mischievous look, lips curling into a smirk. “You know, for all your big talk, you never actually follow through,” you teased, voice light and playful. “It’s almost like you’re scared.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, his gaze darkening as he backed you up against the door, one hand braced beside your head as he looked down at you, his mouth curving into a smirk of his own. “Careful now,” he murmured, his tone low and challenging. “Are you asking me to prove something?”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart hammering as you nodded slowly, almost daring him.

He leaned in, his voice a low growl against your ear. “Not so mouthy now, huh?”

And then his lips crashed against yours, and suddenly, every ounce of that simmering sexual tension between you two exploded. His kiss was intense, consuming, and you found yourself melting into it as his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you felt him press you harder against the door. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you tangled together, caught in the heat of the moment.

He scooped you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward his room, lips barely parting as he navigated the hallway. You could feel the rush of his breath against your skin, hear the steady, quickening beat of his heart as he laid you down.

As you both caught your breath, you looked up at him, lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and managed to say, “Wow. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Nicholas chuckled, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “Likewise.”

His gaze softened slightly as he admitted, “I’ve waited way too long to do that.”

You smirked, leaning up to brush your lips over his again. “Well, you can do more.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he leaned back in, capturing your lips in another feral kiss. His hands were on you, warm and steady, slipping beneath your top and easing it off, then slipping off your mini skirt, leaving you in just your matching bra and panties. He paused for a moment, taking you in, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Wow,” he murmured. “Who’d you dress up for like this? Someone in particular?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Just—someone.”

“Who?” he pressed, a knowing glint in his eye.

You met his gaze and replied softly, “You.”

He smirked again, his fingers grazing over the straps of your bra before unclasping it, letting it slip from your shoulders. His eyes lingered as he gently pulled off your underwear, murmuring, “Lift your hips for me.”

As you did, he carefully slid it down, leaving you both breathless and wrapped up in each other, feeling that intensity settle into something unmistakably real.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, all naked for me, fuck,” he breathed, taking in the sight before him.

He leaned down, his mouth taking in your nipples and you gasped, feeling his tongue swirl and suck on it. Your hand went to his hair as he kneaded the neglected left breast and all you could do was moan as he continued.

“Mm— you like that baby? Yeah? You like when your best friend sucks on your juicy fucking tits?” he asked, in between sucking.

“Shut up and keep going.”

He did as he was told, then you felt a hand on your thigh, caressing you as you spread them open, practically begging him to touch you. You were soaked for him. A soft whimper left your lips as his fingers dipped inside your pussy.

“Jesus Christ, we’ve barely started and you’re soaked. You’re making a mess on my sheets, look.” Looking down you realized there was a large wet patch on his sheets and you closed your eyes, heat rising in your cheeks and between your legs.

“That’s okay baby, it’s gonna get even messier when I make you squirt all over it.”

You gasped and he took the opportunity to kiss you, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. His fingers began moving inside you rapidly, his palm grinding against your clit and making you feel pleasure beyond what you’d ever experienced before. Maybe it was the level of attraction and sexual tension between you finally overflowing, you didn’t know, but you were certainly enjoying it.

“Nicholas, I- I’m gonna—”

“Shh, I know baby, I can feel your tight pussy clenching around my fingers, cum for me.”

His mouth moved to your tits, suckling as his fingers curled inside you and you finally let go. You moaned his name as your pussy soaked his fingers, your orgasm taking you over so intensely that you were shaking.

“That’s my good girl, that’s it,” he praised, “finally being obedient for once.”

You rolled your eyes but they immediately rolled back, as Nicholas fell to his knees, his tongue on your clit. He laughed at your cockiness merging into pleasure, continuing to suck on your sensitive clit. He was a man starved, his mouth engulfing your pussy, making sure every part of it felt his tongue.

“God, Nick, I’m gonna cum again,” you whimpered.

“You taste like heaven sweetheart, cum again for me, I need to taste everything.”

He gripped under your thighs, slurping and sucking and soon, you granted his request, squirting in his mouth as he drank everything you had to offer. His fingers slipped inside your pussy and his tongue flicked your clit, guiding you through your high as you soaked his sheets, the patch growing larger and larger.

“I knew I could make you feel better than anyone else can,” he chuckled, sucking off his fingers.

Smirking, you leaned over to stroke his hard cock. He was decent. Oh, who were you kidding, he was fucking huge. Of course he was.

“Like what you see? You’re practically drooling baby,” he smirked. Soft whimpers left his lips as your warm hands stroked him and you spread the pre cum that was oozing from the tip.

“F-fuck, oh my god you’re hands feel so good around my cock,” he moaned, “as much as I’d love for you to stroke and suck me, I need to be inside you, now. I’ve waited so fucking long for this.”

Your arousal grew as his body went between your legs, your eyes locked on each other with the whole world ceasing to exist. He rubbed the tip of his cock up and down your folds, the sound of your pussy squelching filling the room.

“I’m gonna fuck you raw because you’re mine, is that okay?”

“More than okay.” A cocky grin tugged at his lips and your jaw fell open as he pushed inside you slowly, inch by inch.

“Oh my god,” you moaned in unison.

Nicholas moved slowly, his touch tender but full of that same intense energy that had been simmering between you two for so long. As he pressed into you, it was like the culmination of every teasing look, every playful comment, every stolen moment, all building to this point.

You gasped softly, feeling the thrill of finally crossing that line. He stilled for a second, his forehead pressed against yours as he whispered, “You feel so perfect.” His hand found yours, fingers interlacing as he held on tightly, grounding you in the moment.

You exhaled shakily, barely able to form words. “Worth the wait?” you managed to tease, a small smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Better than I ever imagined.” He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his voice soft but full of meaning as he added, “You’re everything I wanted.”

With every thrust, the intensity built, the shared glances and flirting making each moment feel like the answer to everything you’d both been waiting for. It felt like more than just a moment, it felt like finally, the reward for all the pent-up desire and all the time spent dancing around what had always been between you.

Nicholas began moving with a more intense rhythm, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. The pleasure seemed to crest with each movement, both of you lost in the heat of the moment. His voice came out low and husky as he murmured, “You feel so damn good. I knew you would, with that fucking mouth of yours.”

A shiver ran through you as you whispered back, breathless, “And you— mm, you look so hot above me.”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned down, his hand sliding to your hip, steadying you as he picked up the pace even more. “Cum all over my cock,” he urged, his voice barely a whisper but filled with a mix of tenderness and demand. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

The pleasure built up, and with one final hard thrust, you let go completely.

“Nicholas,” you moaned, biting his shoulder in the rush of release.

“Ow— I’m so attracted to you,” he said, kissing your neck, “I’m not done with you yet, I want you to ride me.”

Without another word, you switched positions and you straddled him as he sat up, his back pressed against the large bed frame.

“You are breathtaking, you know that?” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I need you so bad,” you whimpered, sliding your pussy along his cock.

“I need you even more baby, now sit.”

Slowly, you sank on his cock feeling him slowly fill you up.

“You’re s-so big, god, just stretching me out,” you gasped.

You began riding his cock, your tits bouncing and his eyes went to them, mesmerized by the view before him. His lips went to your nipples, sucking as he grabbed your ass, guiding you to take his dick deep.

“Keep bouncing on my dick baby, just like that, don’t stop.”

Your bouncing sped up, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you.

“I’m close, I- I can’t hold it,” you screamed.

“Don’t hold it beautiful, let go for me, cum on my cock,” he demanded.

With a moan of his name, you draped your arms around his neck, grinding against him as your orgasm washed over you. He held onto you for dear life, his hands grabbing your ass as your pussy clamped around his cock and your juices soaked him.

“Good girl, that’s my baby,” he moaned, “I want my baby to cum one more time, turn around and ride my cock again so I can see that fat ass bounce.”

You whimpered as you turned around, his cock still inside you, the feeling of it swirling inside you making your head spin. He slapped your ass, startling you.

“God, this fucking ass. Could you tell when I’d let my hands brush over it? How I’d have my hands on your lower back teasing lower and lower?”

You couldn’t even form coherent words, the feeling of him so deep inside you was the only thing you cares about.

“Bounce that ass on my dick,” he added, slapping your ass harshly.

Your ass slammed onto him, little moans leaving your lips as your hands were on his legs, propping yourself up.

“Fuck, fuck fuck, oh my god Nick,” you cried out.

“That’s it baby, moan for me, scream my fucking name. You waited so long for this, make it fucking worth it.”

His hips began thrusting up, meeting your ass as he kept slapping your ass cheeks moving from left to right, willing you to bounce faster.

“This tight pussy is just gripping my cock. I’ve got such a good view. It’s just sucking me in, so tight around me,” he moaned, watching your pussy glide on him.

“You feel so good, filling me up so much,” you croaked out.

He grabbed your ass, his hips still slamming against your ass, the sound of skin slapping making his cock even harder. Suddenly, your knees gave out and he continued thrusting up into you.

“Give me one more sweetheart, cum on my cock, soak these fucking sheets,” he demanded.

Your fingers dug into his legs and you soaked his cock and the sheets, your orgasm ripping through you like a sharp knife.

“What a horny little girl, so good for me, now it’s my turn.”

He held you down, his hand going to the back of your neck and pushing you into the mattress as you arched your back. He slammed into you harshly, slapping your ass and moaning your name as he chased his orgasm.

“Shit, where do you want my cum princess?”

“Inside me, please Nicholas, I need your cum inside me,” you begged, gripping the soaked sheets.

“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked.

“I’m s-sure, just please, I need your cum in me, now.”

You didn’t have to tell him a third time, he pressed you into the bed, his cum filling you up, the warm feeling making you both moan in content.

“Yes, yes, shit,” he whimpered, his voice shaky.

He flipped you over, your body landing on top of him and he quickly plugged your pussy with his cock again, preventing any of his cum from leaking out.

The two of you lay there, bodies entangled, your head resting on his chest as you both caught your breath. Every unspoken word, every stolen glance over the years, had led to this moment, and the weight of it felt as satisfying as it did intense. The quiet between you was comfortable, filled only by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

Nicholas’ hand trailed gently up and down your back, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “That was a long time coming,” he murmured, his fingers brushing through your hair. “All that teasing, all those ‘just friends’ glances, guess it had to break eventually.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling his warmth and the closeness of the moment settling around you. “Guess you’re not as good at resisting me as you thought.”

He chuckled, pulling you a little closer. “Can you blame me? You’re impossible to ignore.” He paused, then pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his expression growing a bit more serious. “You’re amazing, you know that? And, that was amazing.”

As he spoke, his eyes softened, and he looked at you with a depth that made your heart skip a beat. “I love you,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, but carrying the weight of everything he’d been holding back.

Your breath caught as you met his gaze, eyes wide in surprise. But the sincerity in his eyes, the way he held you close, made everything fall into place. “I- I love you too, Nicholas,” you replied, your voice just as quiet but filled with certainty.

He smiled, his hand cupping your cheek as he drew you in for another kiss, one that was slow, tender, and filled with the promise of everything yet to come.

[ghostaholics]

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself) ➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap). ➸ WORD COUNT: 2k

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.

Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.

It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.

Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?

𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.

And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.

But no.

Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.

Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.

Law of the jungle, plain and simple.

To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.

Incredible.

You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.

All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.

From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.

Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.

But somehow he did it with you beside him.

You try not to think about the implications of that.

𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.

Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?

The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."

Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.

Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.

He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.

For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.

But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.

More witnesses.

Great.

Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?

Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.

Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.

Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.

"Say cheese."

An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—

"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.

You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—

"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.

"Aye, thanks mate.”

Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.

Fucking traitor.

"Knobheads—"

They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.

"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.

"Bite me, MacTavish."

"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.

"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"

"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.

And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.

"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."

"Sod off."

"He'll appreciate bein' included."

Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”

“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.

What.

There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.

Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.

So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.

Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."

Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"

There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.

But somebody else beats you to it.

“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”

Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.

There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.

And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.

But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"

"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:

"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"

"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"

"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."

"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."

He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."

Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”

[sanakimohara]

Chan who thrives off non sexual dominance??? He’s always been in control of anything and everything in his life. Why would you be an exception? It’s always the smallest things too. You need help reaching for something and he can’t help but to reach above and get it for you. Want him to tie your shoe or zip up your dress? He’ll do it and tell you how pretty you look all dressed up for him or how you’re cute asking him for help.

Chan is obsessed with doting on you, keeping you close, and treating you like his personal little helper. You’ll follow his every command without question and even ask him what you should wear, if you should braid your hair or leave it down, and even what to eat if you can’t decide.

“Need my help baby?”

“What’s wrong princess?”

“Here let me do that for you, sweetheart..”

“C’mere and sit with me.”

“I said sit.”

“Good girl, now tell me what’s wrong..”

“You’re so cute when you ask for help.”

“Is that how you ask me, baby? Say please..”

“It’s okay I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ve got you, you’re safe with me, baby..”

Chan loves it, craves it, leading you without even having to try. It’s in his nature to be in charge. The pride he feels when you call him immediately if there’s something is wrong makes his heart swell. He doesn’t have to redirect you often, even if you are bratty to him at some point he’s quick to correct your attitude, but oh does he love seeing you try to be defiant. One look or a simple reprimand from him always halts your dramatics. You don’t have the courage to press his buttons all the time and so in the rare instances you do he’s not phased but more so entertained.

“What was that?”

“Go on say it again. I wanna hear you loud and clear this time.”

“Careful, baby..”

“Oh, really?”

“Watch you mouth or I’ll put it to use..”

“I said, no.”

“Being a brat won’t get you what you want baby…”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Chan is always there, spoiling you, keeping you safe and happy. He’ll buy you whatever your pretty little eyes land on. Want that gorgeous designer bag? He’ll have it sent to you the next day. You could pick up every plushie in a store and he’d happily pay for it all just to see you giggle and gush about it. You thank him over and over the whole way back to his dorm and he’ll tell you it’s what you deserve.

Chan likes to spoil you, says it’s a reward for being so good to him, so understanding of his career and passions.

“You want that? Of course you can have it, sweetheart..”

“Get as much as you want.”

“Do you like it. I knew you would, princess.”

“How can I say no to you…”

“It doesn’t matter how much it is, if you like it, I’ll buy it for you princess.”

Chan hovers and sticks close to you if you’re out with others. You can feel him watching you intently, barely listening to what’s being said around him, and when you glance at him with a shy smile he’ll smile back. You’re his. All his. Every inch of you belongs to him and he’s so aware of it that he can’t help but focus on you. Even around the members he’s protective of you. Needs to have you close, on his lap, holding his hand, hugging his side. He doesn’t care as long as you’re next to him. The others don’t say anything, knowing Chan is regularly clingy with them, but with you it’s assertive and domineering.

“You’re such a good girl for me. So proud of you…” >>>>>

[izurou]

STOP TELEPHONING ME FT. BLUE LOCK MEN

features: shidou ryusei, michael kaiser, mikage reo, itoshi sae, bachira meguru, and when someone calls you during sex.

contains: female reader. pro! blue lock charas. penetrative sex. oral sex. fingering. semi public for reo and bachira. a creampie from sae. brief filming in shidou’s. she and her pronouns used. you or him are on the phone in all of them so yeah !!

note: these are so long for hcs i am so sorry about that

SHIDOU RYUSEI

one of the sweetest things about ryusei, is that his camera roll is filled to the brim with you.

countless rows of what seems like every image of you ever—screenshots of your instagram stories, all those pictures you’ve sent with the message do i look ok attached, and of course—the dozens of photos he’s snapped of you himself.

sweet indeed—although, he’s still him, and so this habit of his isn’t all innocent admiration and good intentions. he has zero hesitation when it comes to filming you during sex—it’s a nasty side effect of his little obsession and, even nastier, he prefers leaving that type of media on your phone; sweet videos of him with his cock stuffed inside you.

so when he’s doing just that—using your device to record himself fucking you from behind, and the words can i help you suddenly leave his mouth—your heart nearly stops. did he really just? with a reluctant glance over your shoulder, you find him holding your phone up to his ear, grinning. he did.

“ryusei! what the fuck? who’s—” you attempt to scold him through an aggressive whisper, but get cut off by your own gasp when he pushes down on the side of your head—forcing your cheek flat against the mattress. he rolls his hips forwards with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but melt into the cotton sheets and moan when he does so—being effortlessly tamed by the thickness of his cock.

“oh? you sure you wanna talk to her? she’s a little busy right now,” he sneers into the receiver, grin tripling in both size and arrogance when he looks down and sees your face—scrunched up in pure ecstasy as you fist the fabric on either side of your head. yeah, busy being all fucking his.

nevertheless, he thinks it’d be rude of him to not transfer the call over—this person went through the effort of dialling your number, after all.

so he tucks your phone between his shoulder and his ear, and uses both hands to pull you upright—flush against his chest. with his left hand latching onto your throat, and his right now holding your phone a couple inches from your ear, he purrs, “it’s for you, babydoll. wanna say hi?”

there’s a beat of silence, and then you hear it, a voice seething with anger—one that belongs to none other than your ex boyfriend. shit.

you’re holding your breath now—hoping that if you can remain silent, he’ll give up on his attempt to reach you altogether. a decent plan—but not for someone who’s currently dating the world’s biggest instigator. “c’monnnn, at least tell him how good your boyfriend’s fuckin’ you.”

he hums in content as his left hand travels south—between your tits and eventually, onto your clit. he uses his middle finger to rub tight circles, and with his cock still pressing kisses to your sensitive spots, with his tongue dancing across your neck—a whine slips out from between your lips.

and your ex hangs up—spewing a few unsavoury comments about your boyfriend before doing so.

“awwww, we were just getting to the best part,” ryusei whines, but he doesn’t stay down for long. “get ready to cum for me baby, and don’t fuckin’ hold back. we’re gonna leave him a voicemail.”

MICHAEL KAISER

when it comes to you, michael is both equal parts selfish and selfless.

he’s great at sharing. everything from his clothing to his habits—routines he’s stuck with for years, changed, because he wants his luxe life to be something you can experience with him.

like tonight, for instance—where a past version of himself would have returned home from practice, and immediately gotten into a hot bath to loosen his sore muscles. present him is in fact relaxing in a hot bath after a rather shit practice, but present him also has a pretty girl to help him wind down.

and while your boyfriend has no problem sharing with you, hell would freeze over before he’d share you. you’re his, and though he seldom allows his possessive behaviour to control him—it seems to linger on his shoulders nonetheless, particularly after a bad day.

you’re doing your best to lift his spirits—bouncing on his cock, pressing needy kisses along his inked neck—when your phone starts buzzing against the tiled ledge surrounding the tub. he knows you’ve been expecting an important call, but he doesn’t want you to stop—he’s not going to let you stop. even so, he’d be a pretty bad boyfriend if he ignored the call altogether, so he’ll answer it himself—seeing as you’re preoccupied.

“hello?” his voice is smooth, nonchalant—a little too much so. you still your movements, watching expectantly as michael’s gaze shift to yours. he smiles before continuing, as if he’s softening the impending blow. “an interview? sure, let me pass you to her.”

his eyes darken ever so slightly as he holds your phone out, mouthing the words take it.

you obey your boyfriend’s command with a little too much confidence—bringing the device up to your ear and barely managing a hello of your own before michael has you cupping a hand over your mouth with a sharp thrust of his hips. he doesn’t stop there either—grabbing onto your waist tight, more or less holding you still as he begins fucking into you at a steady pace.

“uh, i-i’m,” your mind goes blank as the voice of your potential employer rings in your ears with a simple question—what does your availability look like? michael is eavesdropping of course, sucking feverishly at the delicate skin on your neck as he strains to hear the conversation.

“monday through friday my love, isn’t that right?” he purrs into your opposite ear—handing you the answer on a silver platter. he wants you to get at least one response out before he inevitably, but indirectly ends the call. maybe it’s his sour mood tainting his train of thought, but the future where you have a job—is one where you have less time for him, less time for this. he doesn’t want that. “because you’re all mine on the weekends, aren’t you? such a precious girl, letting me fuck you like this. i don’t know what i’d do without you, baby.”

the words drip from his mouth like honey, sweet and genuine. it’s times like these that prove how scary love is, because in the heat of the moment—you’re convinced that you don’t really want this job, that all you want is to be his.

the water sloshes against the walls of the bathtub as you crumble onto his shoulder with a whine—phone silent and blank as it sits uselessly in your hand. michael runs his palms up and down your back in an attempt to soothe the upset he just assisted in—cock jumping when you sit up and pout at him.

“you’ll definitely get the next one, my love. in the meantime, this can be your full time job,” he grins—smug, but not insincere in the slightest. “you’re already a perfect fit.”

MIKAGE REO

reo, prim and proper at first glance—the perfect textbook gentleman, is anything but.

he has the courteous mannerisms down to a tee, all charming smiles and soft touches as he opens the door to his luxurious car—holding out a hand to help you inside. once you’re seated, he’ll do an adorable little jog over to the driver’s side because—keeping a pretty girl waiting just isn’t right.

his chivalry ends there though, because a parking lot is the perfect place for you to suck him off, he thinks.

and oh, how absolutely perfect you are—leaned over the centre console with your tongue swirling around his tip. he can’t help but pant a little as he lets his head fall back against the seat.

but his euphoria is short lived, because the sound of your ringtone fills his vehicle almost as quickly as it kills the mood—bluetoothed and displaying a name on the dashboard’s touch screen. seishiro. reo figures he’s only calling you to ask about him, but it’s awfully late, and while he has no reason to distrust his best friend—he finds himself curious, wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation.

so, he taps his finger on the little green button.

“ynnn,” nagi’s voice emanates from the speakers—syllables drawn out and on the whinier side. you peer up at reo, and he’s looking down at you, eyes heavy with anticipation as he waits for a follow up. “are you with reo?”

your boyfriend visibly relaxes upon hearing that—and with his curiosity fed, he reaches forward to hang up, but—you swat his hand away.

“no, why? what’s up?” you hold eye contact with reo as you speak—ghosting your lips over his tip before licking up his shaft and taking him back into your mouth. you’re hoping that nagi will start to ramble, because if he does—reo will have to stay quiet, or at least attempt to.

and nagi happens to want an unreleased game, one that reo could pull a few strings and get his hands on if he wanted to—all things the voice on the other end is in the midst of explaining. he’s mere background noise though, because your attention is solely on reo and his cock.

you hold him near the base, using your hand to pump whatever your mouth can’t accommodate. reo shifts in his seat—biting down on the knuckle of his index finger as he goes one on one against the urge to buck up into your face, because that’d really conjure up a sinful sound.

and reo worries he might draw blood when you hum against him—sending vibrations throughout the length of his cock, and oh fuck, he’s so close. his brows knit together as he taps frantically on the screen—ending the call. he cums seconds later, head thrown back in pleasure as he groans and gasps through his orgasm.

“c’mere,” he breathes heavily—cupping your face in his hands and crashing his lips onto yours for a messy kiss. “you wanna sit on it, sweetheart? we can head to the backseat.”

ITOSHI SAE

it might not seem like it, but there’s nowhere sae would rather be on his day off than here.

sitting on a small padded bench inside the private fitting room of a store, with you straddling his lap in a little floral mini dress. he figures that if he’s going to blow this much money on so little fabric, he might as well trial the garment’s true purpose—sex whenever and wherever he wants.

and now, as he watches you grind down onto the growing bulge in his pants—dress bunched up at your waist with one of the straps slipping off your shoulder, he can definitely see himself getting his money’s worth.

he’s just getting into it—running his hands over your ass and hips, tangling his fingers around the lace of your panties—when your phone starts to ring. at first, neither of you even acknowledge the sound, but it persists with a second call, and out of his peripherals—sae sees his manager’s name sitting the top of the screen. great, so much for your alone time.

“hello?” your voice is soft, and yet it still manages to catch your boyfriend off guard. during his brief sulk, you’ve not only answered the call, but put it on speaker as well. “is everything alright?”

the words i need to talk to sae come through, and you feel the breeze from his eye roll. you run your fingers through the hair at the back of sae’s head, pulling him a little closer as you continue to move your hips. he nuzzles into your neck soon after—eyes heavy as he watches your movements in the floor to ceiling mirror directly across from him.

“sorry, no can do. you know he needs the break,” you hum into the receiver, and you swear sae’s grip on you tightens. he loves it when you defend him like this—he thinks it’s hot.

so hot—he just can’t keep it in his pants anymore. he’s unbuttoning and unzipping—pushing fabric out of the way until his cock is springing free, and finally, he’s sinking into your cunt.

a breathy fuck falls from his lips as he leans his head back against the wall—staring up at you like you’re some kind of deity, which—in this dress, just might be true. his nails carve into your hips as he drags you along his shaft, and oh—it’s so easy for him to get carried away when you’re hugging him so tight.

“he’ll call you first—first thing in the morning.” you fumble over your words a little when the head of sae’s cock presses against a sensitive spot, but you get the response you wanted nonetheless—a that’s good thank you, and the call ends there.

a reward worthy performance, he thinks.

“oh god, sae,” you whine—and he buries his face back into the crook of your neck, recognizing the familiar knot unraveling just below his waist. his teeth sink into your shoulder, and he cums hard, breathing heavy against your skin as he watches the mirror’s reflection through hooded lids—staring intently as white starts to leak out of you, and down the side of his cock.

“careful, you’re gonna ruin the dress,” he mutters—knowing full well that the sticky mess is all him. “guess i have to buy it now, huh?”

BACHIRA MEGURU

meguru’s fatal flaw is his attention span, or rather—his lack thereof.

the dinner reservation was at seven—a table for four. you, him, and two representatives from a sports brand that’s interested in sponsoring him.

it’s a few minutes past the hour, and the other duo is evidently running a little late—no big deal, but your boyfriend thinks otherwise. he’s sitting with his chin in his palm, twirling a straw around his fingers, and crumbling under the weight of his boredom. unfortunately, you don’t think this is an establishment that’d have a colouring page and some crayons for him, but not to worry—he’s just found something else to entertain himself.

“meguru, behave,” you shoot him a glance as he scoots closer—hearing him mutter a yes ma’am, but still feeling his hand beneath your skirt a few seconds later. he brushes his middle finger over the thin fabric of your panties—gently rubbing over your clit before he begins tracing what you think are hearts onto your cunt.

your gaze floods with desire—a look that meguru knows well, and loves dearly. he’s getting excited now, tail wagging with delight, because he knows that you’ll let him continue—so long as he doesn’t make it obvious to anyone in the room.

this means that, when one of the representatives suddenly starts calling you, he technically doesn’t have to behave.

“hello?” you bring your phone up to your ear, and at the same time—meguru’s hand slips past the waistband of your panties. he sighs in content—slouching back in his seat and lolling his head to the side. you’d almost think he was the one being touched. “w-what? you can’t find it?”

ah, so you’re saying they’re lost—which loosely translates to you have more time to play. good.

using his index and ring finger to spread you open—he sinks his middle into your warm cunt, curling it upwards and moving his hand side to side a bit. meanwhile, the voice on the other line is begging for directions, and you’re struggling to give them.

you lean into meguru’s side and hold his wrist—not to stop his movements, but to limit them, at least until you manage to get off the phone. but your boyfriend—sweet as pie and smart when it’s convenient for him, presses a kiss to your temple, and decides that he’ll take care of it for you.

“look for the big arena tour billboard, we’re right below that. see you soon,” he leans in and hums happily into your phone, and the rep thanks him before hanging up. with time now running out, he brings all three of his fingers up to your clit, where he rubs tight circles. “mmm, i don’t wanna stop, baby. wanna make you cum.”

“megs, that’s them!” you squeak—spotting two well dressed, important looking people scurrying past a window on the opposite side of the room. you claw at meguru’s wrist—but his fingers stay glued to your clit for as long as possible, and he ends up pulling away mere seconds before they round the corner.

he’s all innocent smiles and waves as the two approach the table—not so subtly licking up the side of his middle finger, which—wouldn’t be so awful if there were more than just drinks on your table. either way, it’s swept under the rug, and the four of you begin introducing yourselves while looking over the menu.

and your phone is on silent at this point, but it lights up with one new message from meguru.

bathroom in 5? <3 i know what i wanna eat ;)

[eevees-hobbies]

i can NOOOOT get *your* suo out of my head like, i gotta ask a question abt him,, ok so we know he likes to share his yummy gfs pussy but does this include without permission 👀 like say she comes home and surprises him with her pussy already creampied by someone else (and making him guess who by the taste ughhhh), would he be more upset or turned on? Im just wondering where they draw the line bc we know suo has all the power 😍. Or like how did he even bring up sharing her first, what a conversation to be had lol!

I sent a rq under this name but im 🍒 anon btw!!

Hi, 🍒 Anon! I love your mind and that you can’t stop thinking about Suo because that’s precisely how he’d like you–as obsessed with him as he is with you! And, yes, I’ve seen your other ask! I’m hoarding it until I can give it the attention it deserves! I may have written a scenario below to answer your question. I am so sorry!! I am sometimes not good at being brief, but I always get super into anything involving Suo because deep down, this man has me in a-.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Hayato Suo. Togame remains the villain in my fics (sorry, sweet boy!). Cheating by anyone else standards but consented infidelity by Reader and Suo’s (they match each other’s freak), cuckolding for Endo and Sugi, one instance of a smack to the thigh, dirty talk, degradation, dacryphilia, Suo knows you better than yourself, be prepared to hear Suo's inner thoughts because he is stressed, obsessive/worshipping kind of love, pussy inspection with fingers, cum eating, mentions of threesomes. Tis smut! Minors Do Not Interact. 

Word Count: 2K

Story banner by me. Divider by Saradkia

Now, let's get into it, myes? You have some great questions about Suo and his girlfriend, who are an interesting couple. I think that some Wind Breaker men are built so differently that eating another man’s cum out of their girlfriend’s pussy would seem appealing or something that they would consider.

Endo, for example, is spreading you open and wide to lap Takiishi’s cum out of your sloppy, abused cunt without a second thought. In fact, he thinks you’re at your most delicious when Takiishi has already had his fun with you, and he eagerly takes his seat between your thighs to taste his favorite person and his girlfriend.

Sugishita isn’t necessarily into sharing, but he wouldn’t fault you if you were enamored by Umemiya—because, duh, why wouldn’t you be? It doesn’t strike him as odd that you let Umemiya hit it raw, and of course, Sugishita would be more than willing to help clean you up with his tongue.

But Suo? Yeah, sharing you doesn’t bother him in the slightest—your pleasure is his pleasure after all, but he’d much prefer to take a supporting or leading role in your sexual liaisons with his friends. That’s why I have always written them as engaging in the pleasures of the flesh together because Suo needs to be with you as you experience every ounce of pleasure–you two, after all, are simply one-half of the same beating heart.

The idea of you getting fucked by anyone and him not being present to watch does not sit right with his soul. 

He needs to be there to provide instructions to your lover because he knows your pleasure better than anyone else–including you–ever could. He needs to be there to deliver quick quips aimed at you so he can see how your flustered eyes dart away from him. He needs to be there to offer whispered words of praise and gentle touches to build you up as he guides your hips in a rocking motion while you ride your temporary lover's cock like the goddess you are. 

He wants to see the way your eyes roll back into the back of your skull when the tip of Umemiya’s cock pushes past the entrance of your tight cunt with a pop, his length bottoming out in you immediately.

“Aw, come on, sweet girl, don’t get that fucked out expression just yet; we’ve only just started.”

Suo wants to see the way you blush when Nirei moans desperately into the sweat-slicked skin of your back as he takes you from behind.

“Isn’t that cute, pretty girl? Nirei really can’t help thanking you for getting to try out your sweet cunt. I bet it’s the best he has ever had.”

And Suo wants to watch you swallow and lick up every single drop of Sakura’s cum no matter where it lands: on the bed sheets, on the floor, or even on Suo’s cock. Wow! How did it land there?

“Looks like you better get on your knees, dove, and clean up the mess you both made.”

To imagine himself absent, not being the one to finish you off, and not being the last one to leave his mark inside of you makes him feel like he just might lose his grip on reality.

Because you need him, don’t you? Your temporary lover can only do so much for you, but the one who makes you scream until your throat burns and your voice cracks isn’t Nirei, Umemiya, or Sakura. No, the one who makes you quiver and shake while he holds you in his arms as he strokes your hair after a particularly intense session is Suo. 

Truly, it’s how you bond, so how could you do it without him? It’s like if you were binge-watching your favorite TV show with your partner, and then you come back the next day and they had continued to watch without you! That shit fucking hurts! It’s a betrayal to Suo–just not for the same reasons as it would be to those of us who are more “traditional” in our way of thinking.

So if he comes home to find you with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you tell him you have a surprise for him, he’ll be delightfully curious—were you thinking of him enough to plan a surprise? You shouldn’t have, but of course, he’s glad that you did! 

At first, he’d smirk, approaching you while already unbuttoning his pants. As you spread your legs, his eyes would travel down to the thick, white seed that would be oozing out of you, and despite his usual stoic demeanor, you’d notice the unmistakable but slight clench of his jaw. 

Suo knows what reaction you’re trying to get out of him, and he’s more than willing to give it to you. You want him to lose control, to let his well-placed and perfectly maintained mask slip.

All because you’re a brat.

All because you want to be fucked within an inch of your life.

All because you seek discipline and a firm hand to remind you who is genuinely in charge.

Well, sorry, but this simply isn’t the type of behavior that Suo plans on rewarding. And tonight, your self-imposed limits on your body's ability to receive pleasure—and for how long—are not his problem or concern. Tonight, he plans on pushing you past what you think you can handle. Do you think you’ve seen the brink before? Tonight, the brink is the starting point. 

“I’m not hurt, just disappointed,” he’d start as his fingers would wrap around your ankles, his grip tight as he’d pull your entire body down the length of the bed and toward him.

“C-cliches, Hayato? You’re so much better than that-OW!” A sudden swat to your thigh gives you pause as you lift your ass a few inches off the bed in response to the sting, but that damn grip of his keeps you anchored.

“The only thing I want to hear out of your mouth unprompted is an apology. Now, who was it?” 

As you divide your plush lips to speak up–probably to say something that’s not in your best interest–you hesitate at the sight of Suo narrowing his eyes at you. Nothing but dangerous intent swirls behind ruby-toned irises, sending a shiver down your spine. But you know Suo, and he’s dangerous to everyone but you. To him, causing you pain would be akin to causing himself pain and he isn’t in the business of torturing the other half of his soul.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t plan on putting you in your place. Suddenly he’s hovering over you, his tassel earrings dangling in your face and tickling the gentle curve of your cheeks.

“W-who? Well…” you stammer, your eyes avoiding his sharp gaze.

While you’re wrestling with how honest you should be, he’s pushing two fingers deep inside of you, twisting his fingers to churn the cum in a way that feels violating. The sound of his fingers swirling the cum makes you blush because, between your heavy breathing, it’s the loudest sound in the room. 

“I knew she was greedy, but I had no idea you lacked self-control.” He pauses as the pace of his fingers pushing in and out of you quickens, and the squelches get more obscene. 

“Let’s see if I can figure it out. I know exactly how she feels after being ruined by each of our friends.” 

He’s not bluffing.

“Look how loud she is for me already. Was she this loud for…” he pauses as he goes down a mental list of who could have done this to you–and the duration of his pause makes your eyes narrow, and the tip of your ears heat up because now he’s being petty.

“Sakura?”

The way you snort lets him know he’s off base. Part of him is relieved it isn’t Sakura; his crush on you is borderline pitiful, and he wouldn’t want his friend to get the wrong idea. But if not Sakura, then who? Who would be brave–or stupid–enough to bypass him to get to you? 

As he twists his fingers inside of you, pulling a groan from your lips, his eyes linger on the way your nose scrunches up in pleasure and slight embarrassment. He leans in closer. “Tell me. Now.”

“I-it was Togame!”

Suo pulls back and looks at you like you just spat at him, making your heart speed up. His reaction is so visceral that you hold your breath in response. 

“Shishitoren trash?”

You wince; surely that beef was squashed long ago, you think. In some ways, it was, but there’s a bit of tension between Suo and Togame when it comes to you. 

Suo notices how Togame’s eyes sweep over you–as though he’s devouring you in his mind. Suo doesn’t mind the looking too much, but it’s the way Togame eye fucks you mercilessly and the way he somehow always manages to find excuses to touch and brush against you. 

He’s not threatened by his presence exactly, but the audacity of Togame pisses him off because not once has he asked for permission, not once has he approached him in the way that a gentleman would inquire about tasting what Suo considers his, not once-

Suo is snapped out of his spiraling as he notices your breathing has grown more rapid and your eyes glazed over long ago. Because, fuck, of course, he was still finger fucking you during his descent into madness. As you approach that oh-so-familiar edge, your toes curling in the way that tells him you’re close, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty and anything but sated.

Your eyes snap open, their ferocity almost enough to make Suo forgive you right then and there and make you chant his name as he gives himself over to you–but lessons must be taught.

He holds the fingers up to your lips, the scent of Togame and yourself wafting into your nostrils and serving as a reminder of the intimacy you shared with him. Your bottom lip quivers ever so slightly and Suo drags his cum slicked fingers against your bottom lip, the sheen it leaves making you look so delicate, beautiful, and worthy of worship. His eyes flick down to your pout, lingering with an insatiable hunger that makes your core flutter. 

You can see his adams apple bob as he tries desperately to hold onto the thin thread of restraint threatening to snap. He can’t help but wonder if Togame got to see this side of you as he pushes his digits into your hungry mouth. You groan at the mixture of salty and sweet cum that coats your tongue and you can’t help but hollow your cheeks as you suck Suo’s fingers clean, your eyes never leaving his.

God and the way you twist your face in pleasure makes him want to lean in and taste your lips, allowing his tongue the privilege of experiencing what you taste like with another man’s essence on your tongue. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and it’s a toxic mixture of possessiveness, fixation, and lust that makes him ache and throb for you.

He should have been there to watch you take Togame’s cock. He should have been there to revel in the way your hot, fat tears flowed down your face as he encouraged Togame to stick a thumb in your other hole. He should have been there to stifle your loud moans and gasps with his cock as Togame gave your greedy pussy deep, deep strokes. “Didn’t know you liked the dirty, skeevy appeal that Shishitoren offers. How did he fuck you? Tell me every single detail; I have all fucking night.”

And Suo does have all fucking night, and suddenly, so do you.

“You like being stretched out by Shishtoren cock? Maybe I should drop you off at the Ori and let the “Devotees of Power” have their way with you. How about Choji, hm? He’s a bit of a biter, you know, and I know how sensitive you are, darling; I don’t think you’d last very long” He grips your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“I want to see every place where he touched you. I want to see where he touched what’s mine, so I can make you forget all about Jo Togame.” 

His eyes trail down, amused and pleased that you’re already obeying. Your fingers slip between your thighs as you watch his hungry gaze take in the way you spread your folds, and you know you have him exactly where you want him.

Anyway, 🍒 anon, this might be how it would go, but I wouldn’t make a habit of it because Suo has his limits, and I can’t promise he’ll be merciful next time. 

@pixelcafe-network @hayatoseyepatch @interstellar-inn

[buckets-and-trees]

Devour: ACID

Collection: Devour Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x f!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.1k Summary: A month since SALT and three weeks since FAT, your situation with the mob boss who bought your restaurant is still evolving in unexpected ways - including an unexpected episode after work tonight.

Content Warnings: explicit smut, oral: female receiving, analingus: female receiving, vaginal penetration/fucking, some light drinking, mob boss Bucky is kind of dom

Logistical Notes: I had planned for this to punch the ticket for week 10 of my Hot Bucky Summer 2023 collection for the prompt "Long day at work?" and so this is late for the @buckybarnesevents event itself, but I'm a completionist and am marking it off on my personal list for my own satisfaction. Also ticking off the U3: "Kink: Concubine" square of my Bucky Barnes Bingo, Round Five card for @buckybarnesbingo.

Additional Notes: @mlibbydp and @goldylions were so benevolent in doing some beta work on this so HUGE AMOUNTS OF LOVE TO THEM for what they both contributed to the piece and to me personally. This chapter is much longer than the previous two and just as part two evolved their relationship, part three makes some more significant moves and ... I needed the notes on making sure this still felt like Devour. Also... @biteofcherry you might see something interesting in here that's definitely included because of a throwaway comment you made earlier this summer.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

When you walked out into the garage, there was a black luxury SUV idling near the exit with Sam Wilson leaned up against it. Seeing you, he slipped his phone into his pocket and pushed off the side of the vehicle.

“Hey, Chef,” he greeted you with a grin.

“Really?” you sighed. “Now?”

He shrugged. “Please?”

“And is that you asking nicely, or him?”

“You know I just do what he says.”

You huffed. “You don’t always do what he says, but he knows you’re the most charming one and I wouldn’t refuse you.”

Sam laughed as he opened the door to the backseat. “Don’t let the charm fool you, honey, if you said no, I’d throw you in the back regardless, it would just be less fun for you.”

You knew that, too, which is why you simply got in without a fuss. Bucky, Sam, the rest of his men? They were all mobsters running mob business, dangerous beneath the surface.

As the door closed behind you, you looked to the front to see who was driving, then clucked your tongue. “He sent both of you?”

Steve smirked. “Buckle up. And of course he sent us. You don’t think he trusts just anyone with his girl, do you?”

Oh. You bit your bottom lip and looked away and out the window, a small warmth stirring in your belly. As inconveniently annoying as this ordeal seemed to you in this moment, there was that piece. Being his. You were starting to feel it.

You had told Bucky that second night in the restaurant that you needed more than gifts and sex.

He had taken your word seriously.

There had been walks in the park, an auction, brunch on his yacht, a gallery opening, a rooftop wine tasting, even a dinner party at Sam’s place where he ended up proposing to his girl. You had enjoyed all of them, but except for the night at Sam’s, the time with Bucky had been last minute – sometimes there was a text, but most times it was him showing up or – like tonight – someone sent to fetch you without notice. He seemed all too aware of your schedule, so none of these instances were logistically inconvenient, but with it happening once more again tonight, you couldn’t help but notice this pattern of behavior was clearly becoming a habit – being summoned. In general, you didn’t mind, you saw that he was demonstrating that he wanted to spend time with you, but if you were his girl, you didn’t want to be treated  like one of the droves of people who were at his beck and call and certainly not like a concubine kept solely for his whims.

The SUV slowed and pulled up to the curb of an incredibly unremarkable building that spoke to money for how unremarkable it was – the kind of money that demanded magnificence but privacy. You’d never stepped in a place of residence quite like this before – you hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet, but even in the darkness you already knew.

Both men slipped out of the front seat. Sam opened your door and offered his hand to pull you to the sidewalk. “No frowns needed tonight,” he said.

“Says you.” You didn’t realize you were frowning.

Sam grinned, then headed around to take the driver’s seat just as Steve appeared at your side.

“I’ll walk you up,” Steve gestured for you to enter the building with him.

“This is his place?”

“One of them,” Steve responded.

You took a deep breath and followed him in.

Sharp looking doormen, green marble floors, golden elevators.

Chatting with Steve was always easy, and it was no different on the fifteen-floor ride up to the penthouse at the top of the building. However, you did feel a touch of nerves as this was your first time at Bucky’s place. You weren’t quite sure what to expect but were keen to learn more about this enigma of a man by seeing where he lived.

And there he was, ready to meet you as the doors of the elevator opened, hands in his pockets, tired smile on his face, but his blue eyes dancing with excitement, and that stirred the storm of butterflies immediately in your stomach. He reached out a hand to pull you into him.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said, though he didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Sure thing, Buck.”

Once the elevator closed, Bucky brushed his fingers over your cheek, cradled your head in his hand to tilt your jaw up, and then his lips were on yours, your back pressed up against the wall. Within moments you were breathless.

In the intervening weeks since seeing him at the restaurant he’d also kept his physical contact minimal, only a few light touches, an arm around you when it seemed natural for the occasion, except for two lingering kisses. One of those instances was after a walk in the park when he’d kissed you full on in the afternoon daylight, then deposited you into the car he’d arranged to take you directly to work, where his heated kiss had distracted you throughout your shift. The second was three nights ago, the last time you saw him, and that had been only a ghosting of his lips against your ear, along your jaw, and then a soft kiss pressed to your mouth before withdrawing and leaving you at your door, but it had gotten your whole body humming for him and haunted you as you went to sleep and in your dreams.

This, after so long, so much wanting, was like a wave crashing over you. You moaned softly, you let him pull you in, melting against him, and you nearly let him sweep you away, but then you pressed insistently against his chest.

“James.”

“Yes?” he did move back, but only enough to look into your face fully.

“What is this?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“So, you just summon me?”

You knew he didn’t miss the tenor of agitation in your tone because he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the smirk before he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the juncture at your shoulder. “I was hungry for you,” he said, completely undeterred. And as his lips moved solely along your throat, your core begged you to forget the conversation you were attempting to have.

“Why?” you barely managed to ask.

“You know why.”

“Do I?”

Bucky pulled back again, frowning this time, but you put your hand on his face to soften his reaction. “Steve and Sam said I’m your girl, but…”

“I told you you were mine. Surely over the past few weeks, you can’t doubt that.” His stare into your eyes was steady, straight.

You didn’t doubt him.

You did need to hear those words said just that way though. You didn’t know how much you had needed to hear them.

It gave you the surety to say what you needed to say to him. “I’m not just another girl. No more summoning me, Barnes. I’m not one of your people, I’m not your plaything.” With your hand now resting on his chest, you let your fingers brush soft strokes up and down over his heart. “If you want me, want all of me.”

He hadn’t interrupted your statement. He’d let you finish without argument. You could see the way his face changed, and the shift of the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. He drew you in closer, encircling his arms around your waist. “Oh, I want everything, don’t doubt that.” He brushed his lips softly on your forehead. “I was only waiting for you to want this.” 

Your chest tightened at those words, but the next moment you couldn’t think because then he kissed you again.

And that kiss, though brief, was thick with heat, and when he pulled back he said, “I see your point about the summoning. Just know that I was eager to have you around at any opportunity.”

You smiled because he smiled. “I can forgive you for that – I guess I can be a bit irresistible,” you teased. Somehow his confidence made you feel steady enough with him to be direct, to be flirtatious, to simply be around him.

He brought a hand to your cheek again. “I’ll mend my ways, but let’s be honest… a little bit of you likes it – the spontaneity of it.” His smile turned to a truly wolfish grin.

You sighed but rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe a little.”

He stepped away, taking your hand. “Come. You can have a tour later.”

Rather than asking where you were going, you simply let him lead you through the grand apartment. You didn’t take in every detail, but it was big without being too big. Rich and luxurious without being cold or opulent. There were sleek lines, but also elements of warm and comfort folded into the power that was also clearly on display. But your focus was on the way he held your hand and led you through his domain. He had no question that you would follow.

Were you so easily his?

No.

Your mind wasn’t made up.

You weren’t all in, but you weren’t reeling to run away.

He stopped in front of a mahogany door and looked over his shoulder at you. You arched your brow.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Alright.” And you did.

He opened it, and you let him lead you inside, through a room, clearly walking you past some furniture. You heard the sound of a fire in a fireplace, then you heard another door opening, and he ushered you in front of him and through that door. “Take your time,” he said softly, lips against your ear. “I’ll be waiting.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind you.

You opened your eyes to the sight of a large jade green-tiled shower enclosed with glass and four gleaming gold showerheads. Turning around, you couldn’t help a soft giggle falling from your lips. The lavish bathroom was sheer perfection. Showering after your shifts at the restaurant was ritual for you. You toed off your shoes and began peeling off your clothes. Off to the side of the palatial shower, there was a gorgeous clawfoot tub, and next to that a plush navy settee with what looked like some silky things set out for you. After inspecting the knobs and heads of the shower, you got them running, adjusting them to the perfect water temperature easily, and stepped under the streams, a sigh falling immediately from your lips.

One of the shelves was stocked with some of the skin and haircare products you used, some you hadn’t but certainly knew the name and reputation of (but hadn’t indulged in for yourself), and the other shelf was stocked with men’s products. It reminded you of the significance of where you were – in his home – and the element of intimacy it evoked, being naked where he had been and would frequently be again. Where he likely would be naked with you. You bit your lip. You pulled down the bottle of his shower gel, popped the top open, and inhaled. You hated how much you already loved that smell.

No, you didn’t.

You inhaled deeply again, then set it back on the shelf.

After that, you set to reveling in the flow of the water over your body, and got to washing, unsure of the time, only focused on the smooth feel of the soap and textures over your skin, feeling more and more relaxed, and ultimately refreshed and clean.

Once you had shut off all four showerheads, you reached for towels more plush than any you had ever used in your life and dried yourself off before wrapping the large bath sheet around your torso. You padded over to the settee to discover a short black silk robe waiting for you.

And nothing else.

You shook your head but grinned. “Audacious bastard,” you whispered.

But you didn’t bother with anything else.

At the vanity there were more hair, face, and body care products and tools clearly stocked for you – again some familiar and some you’d only dreamed of, none of this really a shock given your experience with this man. You weren’t certain how long you’d taken in the shower, having lost track of time, but here you suddenly did find yourself trying to take more time, a small fluttering of nerves in your stomach, because though he'd had his way with you in the kitchen of the restaurant and discreetly pulled an orgasm from you at the table in the dining room, this would be different.

Tonight, your body would be his, no restrictions. There was no worry for privacy, no limited amount of time.

There were also emotions now.

You had set the terms – that you needed to be more than a body to him – and he’d met them, courting the rest of you these past weeks, and putting the physical on the back burner.

He had made his intentions for tonight expressly clear.

And you wanted him, too.

But you were still nervous.

When you put your hand on the doorknob, you closed your eyes for a moment, taking one deep breath to steady yourself. Then you stepped out and into the next room, which – to no surprise – was a grand and spacious bedroom. Bucky was sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace you’d heard earlier, but immediately set a book aside and stood when he heard you. You were happy – and feeling a little more heat in your core – to see he was out of his earlier clothes and down to only a pair of silk pajama bottoms.

“How was your shower?” he asked, standing up and beckoning you over.

“The shower was glorious. You’re a bit wicked to only leave me a robe, though, aren’t you?”

He placed a kiss to your forehead and motioned to get comfortable on the couch while he moved over to a small bar cart nearby to get you a drink. He shot a smug over his shoulder. “I plan to get lucky.”

You snorted. “You brought me here late at night, kissed me like you did earlier, sent me to shower, left me only a very slinky silk robe to wear, and then greet me again looking like this,” you gesture at him, “fixing me a drink, and you call that ‘planning to get lucky?’”

He shrugged, his smug grin only growing. “Do you think there’s any way in hell I’d be where I am if I hadn’t strategically hedged my bets? Absolutely I plan to get lucky. I make sure I don’t give luck any reason not to go my way.”

You didn’t need alcohol. He was beyond intoxicating. He had been from that first night.

“And I’m assuming I don’t get a choice of drink tonight, either?”

He looked at you again. “I let you choose a lot of things, but I want you to try this. I think you’ll like it.”

You bit your lip and tucked your legs up under you, draping an arm over the back of the couch and facing him as well as where he would return to sit once finished mixing your drinks. His back was to you now, and you were not surprised he seemed to want to keep his preparation a mystery at least for a few more moments.

“Long day at work?”

“Work?” You weren’t expecting such a normal inquiry about it.

“Yes,” he chuckled, “work, my beautiful, talented chef.”

He handed you a wine glass with clear liquids over ice, garnished with fresh mint and slices of lemon, while he had what looked to be a whiskey smash in his other hand. You took an experimental sip as he sat close to you, angling his body to face you, resting his arm over the back of the couch as well. The citrus and mint blended with something floral and…

You swished the contents of your drink in your glass before taking another sip. It was bright and refreshing and not quite the evening night cap you would have expected.

He watched your face, gaging your assessment as he sipped his own drink.

“What is this?” you asked.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” you countered, “but what is it, James?”

Your name on his lips ticked the corner up in a half smile. “It’s a Hugo cocktail.”

“It’s not a predictable choice for the middle of the night.”

“It wasn’t my intention to bring you hear and tuck you in straight away.”

You laughed. “There’s no question what your intentions were. We established that.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re not picking up on all my intentions.”

Your brow furrowed. Then you let out a little yip of surprise as he pulled you closer, you clutching your wine glass to keep from spilling the drink.

He had already positioned himself close to you, but this was even more intimate. You were nearly in his lap, and he did pull your legs up to drape across his thighs.

“Now tell me about your day.”

“Oh, you were serious.”

His hand settled on one of your bare thighs, just next to your knee.

“If I didn’t want all of you, I would’ve fucked you in the foyer and let you go home. I want this, too. Now talk.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you smiled. This really was him – demanding but not inflexible, and certainly giving you more than you expected.

So, you did talk, just as you had been really starting to the more he had brought you around to spend the time with him these last weeks. However, there was no getting around that this was more intimate. No others around, no distractions, no functionality of a thing you were doing together, only the two of you.

His line of inquiry was genuine, and he listened intently.

Almost too intently.

You were his singular fixation, and you knew he was thinking of nothing but you as you spoke.

And his fingers brushed idly over your thigh as you conversed.

The soft, repetitive motion wasn’t distracting at first, but it wasn’t long before it was an overwhelming tease of what wasn’t happening.

The physical touch you hadn’t experienced at his hand in weeks.

He was asking questions about how some of the new members of your kitchen staff were integrating, and all you wanted him to do was glide that hand down between your thighs.

You sipped at your drink, and as you continued to talk, you let your other hand drift to rest on his arm still draped over the back of the couch, and your fingers traced along a vein on his forearm. Although it was difficult not to let your eyes drop to his bare chest, you kept his gaze. If he was going to continue talking like this proximity and the lack of clothing between you both wasn’t affecting him, you were determined to match him.

Finally, he moved his hand from your thigh, but it went straight to your waist to curl just above your hip. “Kiss me,” he said.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips hungrily to his without hesitation. He set his drink to the side, then grabbed yours to do the same. With both your hands free, neither of you wasted another moment. Your hands went to his neck while one of his hands traveled slowly up your spine, the other holding your face. As impatient as you were for him, both of you kissed to savor, but there was no rush to it. His lips moved against yours, your tongues explored together, tracing, memorizing, exploring. It wasn’t enough, the tenor moving from savoring to consuming, and you shifted, moving into his lap.

He broke off the kiss briefly, turning his head to the side, but his left hand remained firmly against your back, keeping you close, and you rested your forehead against his temple. His other hand reached to the side table, and he plucked one of the slices of lemon and some mint from your drink. Curious, you lifted your head away. He brought the mint leaf to your mouth first, pressing it along your bottom lip. Then he pinched the fruit against your lip. The mint played with the acid of the citrus deliciously as he kissed you again, this time each of you nipping and licking intermittently through the kisses. Your hands explored the broad planes of his chest now, and his hands raked up and down your sides, thumbs skimming over the side swells of your breasts.

Keen for more, you pressed your body closer to him, pushing your core directly against the hardness of his cock. Rocking your hips, you drew a debauched moan from him that made you swell with pride and made your pussy ache even more for him. You needed him, each moment driving that need exponentially now.

The thick arms and broad chest you were getting to explore freely for the first time held only some of the rippling muscles that made it seemingly easy to push up off the couch while still holding you close with one arm, and it made a broken whine escape the back of your throat. You wrapped your legs around his torso, and his other hand squeezed and held your ass against him as he moved you from the seating area across the room to the bed. He tossed you down on the mattress, then pushed the silky robe – which was naturally already askew – off your body and flung it away. You pushed yourself back a bit more on the bed, and he was only a half second behind crawling up after you.

He pushed your legs wide open, and dove immediately for your dripping cunt. You laughed, a little flushed, but also more than ready for him to bury his face between your thighs. You let your head fall back against the soft bedding, closing your eyes. Then you yelped as there was a sharp slap to your pussy instead of his lips on your folds. You jerked up to look at him, and the devilish grin on his face, the darkening of his eyes made your heart stutter.

“Don’t laugh, Chef, I told you I was hungry for you. Keep your eyes on me,” he said.

You took a deep breath, leaned back on your elbows, and gave him a solemn nod.

He pressed kisses slowly along your inner thigh, his deep blue eyes locked on yours. The fluttering in your stomach rose steadily, your pussy desperate for his attention. When he planted his lips in the crease of your thigh, he left his mouth there. A broken whimper leapt from your throat, and you pushed your hips up. 

He pushed your hips back down with one of his large hands and moved his mouth the opposite direction and bit at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you yelp.

“Please,” you murmured.

“Eager for me?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation.

“Good.”

And then he worshiped your cunt, kissing it with as much fervor as he had kissed your mouth, and you moaned openly, no worries over anyone but him hearing you here. You didn’t look away, completely captivated because this was also a new level of intimacy that you felt both ready and unprepared for. Receiving oral sex from other partners had never felt so purposeful. This man in this moment was so avid in the way he was pleasing you, making you watch him, you brain was having a hard time recalling if sex with anyone before him had ever been so intense. You didn’t think it had – that first night when he’d demanded it from you in the kitchen, the next time he’d coaxed you into a few moments of pleasure in the dining room, and now inviting you here to have you without restraint – each encounter had been unlike anything before.

The pleasure was overwhelming as his lips and tongue licked, sucked, flicked your clit, delved into your folds, and he kept a keen eye on your every reaction. You began to feel lightheaded with the mounting waves of bliss, your toes curling, breaths coming in short gasps until your head fell back because you simply couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t do anything but feel, ready to fall over the edge because of him again.

But then he pulled his face away, jerking you back from that edge of ecstasy and you would have whined, but he was already manhandling your hips to flip you over. One of his rough palms smoothed slowly and firmly up your spine, applying delicious pressure, but you still felt the lack from the orgasm he’d dangled then withdrawn. “James,” you moaned. “James, please.”

He drew his palm slowly back down your spine. “You’ll have me, Chef, don’t doubt that.”

You whined again, but he pushed your thighs apart and slotted himself again between them, holding you splayed open for him with his broad shoulders. It was a little uncomfortable, stretching your legs, but you settled and breathed through it anticipating what was coming next.

His tongue teased at your clit for a moment, then slowly licked up and between your folds to dive into your cunt, lapping inside, and you shivered. But then one of his hands pushed at your ass cheek and his tongue continued moving up, and you gasped and tried to move away when the tip of his tongue teased your tight, puckered hole.

“Easy,” he said softly but firmly, his other hand moving beneath you and hooking at the juncture of your thigh to pull your hips back flush against him. He pressed a kiss to your round ass cheek.

“I’ve never,” you admitted enough, he knew what you meant. He kissed the same spot on your ass cheek, but then he shifted, and you felt him moving up over your back, his body pressing lightly against you until he was up at your shoulder. He pressed a kiss there, and then looked at you.  

“Then I won’t give you more than my tongue tonight, but you know I’ll make you feel good, don’t you?”

You nodded.

He smiled, then left the ghost of a kiss to your temple and slipped back down behind you.

Resuming his exact same positioning, his left hand curling under to anchor at the juncture of your leg, his right pressing you open to expose your ass, you pressed your cheek into the pillow and took a deep breath. You reached your left hand down to meet his, and he twined his fingers reassuringly with yours as they sought him. Then his mouth pressed in, and his tongue darted out, swiping over the tight ring of muscle.

“Just relax and feel,” he instructed.

You concentrated on breathing and then the new sensation. Unexpected. Then a different kind of pressure, then pleasure. It wasn’t awful as had always been insinuated. It was debauched more than anything else, and he soon had you moaning and panting and wriggling back against his tongue which alternated between lapping at the hole and teasing in and out. It was when you pushed hard back against him that he pressed a kiss again there and pulled back.

“I know what you like.”

It wasn’t a brag; it was a statement of possession that sent a shiver through your body. Because he was right, and you couldn’t deny that.

“Now come here,” he said, pulling you by your hips up to kneel, presenting for him. “Such pretty folds.” His fingers circled your clit, then slipped briefly inside your cunt, drawing a happy gasp from you.

He grabbed his thick member and brushed the tip up and down over your sensitive parts a few times as you pushed up on your elbows, your back arched in a beautiful bow for him. When you looked over your shoulder at him, he finally sunk his cock into you. His hips pushed forward against you slowly until he was completely buried inside you, filling you, pressing so intimately into you. Fully sheathed, he stayed there for a moment, and he ran his hands over your hips and your lower back, caressing, relishing in the fill. He pulled back slowly, but only a couple of inches, then pushed back in, clearly wanting to relish in this for a moment. You had no desire to rush him either.

When his hands gripped your hips, you dropped your forehead to rest your forearm on the mattress, and then he began to fuck you, building a steady rhythm. He built up bit by bit, and you both let words and sounds fall out of your mouths as the physical feelings increased in intensity. Having been so close twice, when he finally moved a hand to rub expert circles into your throbbing clit, your body quickly responded in releasing your orgasm, and your spasming walls pulled him right along with you, and he came with a shout over your moans, a stuttered thrust, and then he continued a few more pushes, his hot spend coating your walls.

He wrapped an arm around your stomach and pressed kisses into your back, and you curled up into him with a hum of contentment.

When he pulled out, he reached over to the bedside table to retrieve a waiting damp hand towel – you shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d prepared to this detail – and then cleaned you up and then him before tossing it away. He stroked your back once more, then scooped you to your side, and pulled your naked and spent body to him so he could spoon up against you. You put your arm over his, and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Stay?” he murmured simply into your ear.

This you didn’t answer immediately. You let your chest fill and empty with a few breaths, weighing your answer between your head and your heart. But neither of them fought to leave.

“Okay,” you finally breathed.

He settled in even closer, then reached for the sheets to pull up over the both of you. “I told you that first night that you would warm my bed.”

“Don’t be smug,” you protested.

“I’m not,” he insisted, and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, “I’m only pleased I’ve finally got you here.”

next part: HEAT

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[shalomniscient]

@ the anon who sent in the fuckgirl feixiao ask, tumblr died on me and sent your ask into the void while i was working on it 💀💀💀 so i’m rewriting it as a regular post shdhskksks my apologies 😔😔😔 this has some abo themes and very generous usage of the ‘love at first sight’ trope. also do mind the tags !!!

cw. allusions to/mentions of slavery

feixiao likes to call herself the lacking general, for she lacks in rivals, regrets and worries. yet for all she enjoys this title, there are instances where it certainly does not apply. for example, she does not lack in loyalty, in strength and in courage. but perhaps most importantly, is thatshe very much does not lack in women.

the merlin’s claw has somewhat of a reputation for being a rather… notorious tomcat. it is not uncommon to find the general at one of the few turquoise pavillions dotted across the yaoqing. of course, these establishments are vetted and regulated by the responsible commissions, and any services provided within the walls of the compound are entirely legal. after all, it would certainly be quite the scandal if the general frequented a place outside the law for any other reason than to bring down its judgement. in any case, many of these establishments eagerly await the foxian’s arrival upon every victorious battle, which is when she arrives with her entourage of soldiers in tow, high off a win against the abundance devils. drink and pleasure and debauchery flow freely on these nights like lifeblood.

and in the middle of it all sits feixiao, the great general and the star of the show. she’s surrounded by courtesans eager for her attention, who giggle and coo and bat their lashes at each word she says. they’re pretty—naturally—and perhaps a little too well into their cups. the bolder ones reach out to touch her arms, bare of her coat, tracing their fingers over the muscles of her biceps. they breathe sultry promises into her ears, coy and inviting, but feixiao hardly hears a word, because she’s far too preoccupied looking at you.

you’re entertaining a group of her men, refilling their tankards and smiling politely as they babble drunkenly. she drinks in the sight of your profile from afar like you’re the only drink she’ll indulge in tonight, from the line of your jaw to the swell of your lips and the bare, exposed skin of your nape. her gaze lingers on your hands, definitely smaller than hers, and she wonders what it’d be like to lace them with her own. what it’d be like to feel them card through her hair, scratch the base of her ears, and cradle the curve of her cheek. something bone-deep aches in her, and she’s standing up and moving before her brain even catches up to her body. the whines of the courtesans she’s left behind don’t even register as she walks up to you, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome flutter in her chest.

(feixiao will later learn that what she feels is want. she doesn’t recognise it at first, because the first thing all slaves learn is that your wants are unimportant. but she is free now, has been for years, and this wanting in her chest is here to stay—and all it wants is you.)

so when you lift your head look at her, meeting her teal eyes, she’s completely and utterly gone.

feixiao has never believed in true mates. the childhood she had—if it could even be called such—could certainly kill any notion of fate or romance in a person. nothing could ever undo those scars, but something in her soothes at the sight of you and the scent of you that fills her nose, light and sweet like mint and honey. it settles on her tongue, and she swallows like she wants to drown in it. to feel it fill her lungs until it permeates into her blood. she runs her tongue under the pointed tips of her fangs, aching with want, before offering as charming a smile as she can muster and asking for your name.

you give it to her, and the rest, as they say, is history.

[killxio]

bluecollar!reiner headcannons

word count: 725 [ 2 min 40 sec read] | ✪ content warnings: smut, kitchen sex, blue collar men :/ but a good one, p in v sex in general, fingering.. uhhh

bluecollar!reiner x black!reader / constructionworker!reiner x black!reader

✭ you and your blonde-headed personal bob the builder

bluecollar!reiner who does construction and pools.

bluecollar!reiner who sleeps like a LOG. like, has rolled over ontop of you on multiple instances and it’s taken having to literally slap him to wake him up.

bluecollar!reiner who absolutely throws down at cookouts and get togethers, you and your friends and family are just so good in the kitchen and babyboy needs to EAT.

bluecollar!reiner who works so hard because his favorite view of you is on a beach, or poolside at a fancy resort taking his cock in a risky, barely covered blind spot.

bluecollar!reiner who, 8/10 times cannot sleep without your manicured fingers scrubbing at his scalp or smooth palms scanning over his body and rubbing soothing circles.

bluecollar!reiner who sometimes brings you small bouquets if the landscape of the construction site he’s on has some pretty ones for the taking.

bluecollar!reiner who saved the petals from those flowers and proposed to you surrounded by them.

bluecollar!reiner who walks so hard for literally no reason. :/ like, he comes home late after pushing through the end of his customers pool build and i stg you think the rapture is occurring. it took you a few months of dating to get used to the fe-fi-fo-fum ass walking he does but even sometimes he still manages to wake you up.

reiner finally emerges in the bedroom after putting away his lunch box and heavy work boots to see his poor poor fiancé glaring at him from underneath a pillow.

“i woke ya’ didn’t i?”

“yes mister braun. you did.😐”

bluecollar!reiner who does that thing in the gym where he uses you as a weight for his pull ups sometimes. your lock screen is a photo of you smiling as reiner is doing a pull-up and you can see his abs on full display overhead.

bluecollar!reiner who looks forward to the massages you give him every night, working out the knots in his shoulder blades, soothing the aches in his biceps..

bluecollar!reiner who thanks you for the massages by doing you one better:

the plat plat plat of his dick sliding in and out of you resonates through the room, and your back is arching off the wall. reiner was supposed to be carrying you back to bed after a show and a massage on the couch, but here you are only halfway down the hall and coating his dick in cream.

“please please kiss me” you plead, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten and swell.

he huffs a little and between your deep kisses you can feel the stubble of his beard.

“reiiiii ‘m gonna cummmm” you whine, looking at him with that hazy glint in your eyes as you release on him.

“good girl, so so good for me doll.”

bluecollar!reiner who’s socials are empty besides a few photos of you or you and him and MAYBE a selfie.

bluecollar!reiner who you send video rants to throughout the day to keep him company while he works. he responds with videos of his own if he can.

you open the video reiner sent twenty minutes ago.

he’s propped his phone up on the back of his truck, his work shirt is absolutely covered in wet cement so as he’s responding to whatever you said in your previous video, he’s taking off his shirt and putting on a new one.

“.. oh yeah and lunch was amazing. not burnt or overcooked. thank you princess.”

his video ends after a quick wink and pop of his gum. meanwhile, you’re thinking about the way reiner was far from concerned about his lunch while you were trying to make it. he had you bent over the counter, knuckle deep in your cunt and tongue circling your clit. reiner wasn’t focused on anything besides the way your wetness was dripping down his arm, but you’re busy struggling to keep tell him about the food on the stove.

“r-rei baby.. i have- fuck.. i have your lunch for t-tomorrow- ah.. on the stoveee.”

“uh-huh.. god this pussy is so fucking delicious.” he says, only coming up for air for a brief second and continuing to ravage you.

bluecollar!reiner who has a photo of you on the dashboard of his work truck.

bluecollar!reiner who loves letting you ride him slow while he talks over the plans and spreadsheets for the next big project he has.

bluecollar!reiner who loves you to the moon and back and will build anything for you.

[ameliathornromance]

“Is that him there?”

Wind blasts through the train tunnel, past you and your Orc Boyfriend. Your Orc, raised an eyebrow and followed your finger pointed.

The person you were referring to, a human male with waterfalls of black hair, curling at his shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot and contoured with black rings, matching his dark hair.

The phrase, ‘Love, not hate’ tattooed above his left eyebrow. His scowling at passers by, wrinkled nose and judgemental stare opposed the important sentiment he decided to ink his face with. Sitting on the bench, he jogged his knee to an invisible jig, chain around his neck swaying.

Your Orcs’ eyes flicked from the phone screen in his hand, to the suspect and back to the screen. “Yup.” He tucked the phone away in his jeans pocket. “Now, let me handle this.”

“No,” you put a hand against your Orcs shoulder, stopping him from moving towards the subject. “We talked about this, you always come on too strong. And this isn’t too dangerous is it? It’s just an escort job.”

The Orc wrinkled his nose at you, “don’t say it like that, you make it out to be that we’re some kind of prostitutes.”

You rolled your eyes, “you knew what I meant. I’ll go and make contact, you hang back behind me and step in if it gets to be too much!” And without waiting for a response, you approached the man.

“Hey, Mr Mimac.” You started gently. The last time Mr Mimac had been seen was three months ago in Monaco… Snorting some kind of white powder, surrounded by Fae show girls and gambling away all the money his… ‘law abiding’ father had given him as a 21st birthday present.

God knows if he was on anything now.

But that’s why you and your Orc had turned up. Your duo went by many names in underground spaces: Good & Bad Cop, Brains and Brawn, Summer and Snow – fitting really, considering both of your conflicting appearances & approaches.

Orcs and Humans don’t normally get together like the two of you do. But it’s good to have a balance on perspectives, isn’t it?

Even if you disliked the brashness and ruthless behaviour of your boyfriend, you couldn’t deny that it paid off to have a scary guard dog with you wherever you went. It made you feel safer, especially when dealing with things like this.

Mr Mimac Junior didn’t even spare you a glance, eyes still glancing around the stations platform in the same critical gaze. “We’re here on behalf of your dad, he’s asked me and my partner to bring you back to him. He’s very worried about you.” You explained as delicately as possible.

“Fuck off…” The Junior turned to you, his scowl deepening. “I don’t care what my father asked you to do.” His voice slurred slightly, a strong chemical smell hit you like icy water.

You opened your mouth to respond, try to ease him into coming with you. But there was no time.

“Alright,” your Orc Boyfriend spoke up from behind you. “The lady asked quite politely.” He growled.

Still, Mr Mimac did not move. He sent a glare at your Orc, “so? I don’t take orders from anyone, do you know who I am?”

Uh oh.

“This is how it’s going to play out, hm?” Within an instance, your Orc was in front of you, hands leaned on the benches arm rests, bent down to the Juniors height.

The man’s eyes widened, leaning as far as he could before hitting the tiled wall behind him.

Any trace of irritation had gone from Mr Mimac’s face as your Orc continued, “My lovely lady may be polite, but me?” Your Orc Boyfriend drew a sharp breath, air between his large tusks. “I’m not so nice. You’re going to do what the lady says, otherwise your father is going to get a bloody pulp of flesh, and when he asks why you turned up in that state, I’m going to say that you were refusing to co-operate and I had to use some light force… I might just have to even break that pretty little necklace you have,” your Orc flicked a dangling diamond chain from around the man-child's neck.

You stifle a sigh, covering your forehead and blocking your eyes from the scene.

“Now, you’re going to apologise and come with us quietly.” Drawing himself back to you his full height, your Orc looped his thumbs through his belt loop, waiting for the Human to respond.

The man’s eyes darted to you, then back to your Orc. “’m sorry.” Mr Mimac squeaked.

“Better.” Your Orc jerked the Junior standing, the three of you marching out of the train station.

*

Mr Mimac Senior thanked you both profusely as his son was led away by his mother. Mimac Senior handed you a briefcase and sent you both on your way.

Getting back into the car, you cracked open the briefcase. Taking a stack of bills, you examined them carefully as your Orc Boyfriend turned the ignition and turned the car around.

After checking the bills authenticity, you snapped the case closed. The clicking of the cars indicator punctuated the air.

“I told you I could handle it.” You said, quietly.

“You did. He was just behaving like a jackass.” Your Orc replied, checking the lane before pulling out of the drive way. “I’m not going to let anyone talk to you like that.”

Despite the point being lost on your Orc, you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. “Thank you.” You meant it, how could you not? He was only looking out for you. “I feel bad, you’re always doing the dirty work. You should get some time to sit back and handle the easy stuff.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad. Remember what we agreed? I get my hands dirty, you keep yours clean and deal with business.” The car stopped at the traffic lights. "You’re smarter and better at negotiating.”

Engine humming, the streaking of red light illuminating his appearance, your Orc turned to you. “I love you, you know." He held his hand out to you.

You took it, intertwining your fingers with his. “I love you too.”

[watchtowerindistress]

for the love of ... bob? - jake seresin x reader (1/2)

Summary: Being Jake's (best) friend - sorry, Javy - proved to have its ups and downs but there was something about having him in your corner you couldn't resist. Jake and you just clicked on a deeper level. That's why you didn't get it when the Southern boy was acting so weird.-

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Language, Jake being an idiot (what else is new?), Jealous! + Soft!Jake, fluff

Author’s note: Just something fun I wanted to write. I kinda hate myself for not writing for Bradley first, since I love the guy. You know, Jake's fics I love to read, yet I couldn't stand him while watching Maverick. Go figure.

I haven't watched the film enough to distinguish the traits of the characters, so I can't guarantee for accuracy for the side characters. I can only include a handful of people - that's why I don't have people like Reuben in there since their character traits aren't included in the fandom page.

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @silenthappyplace @mrsevans90 @dempy @yourgirlypop (blank blogs can't be tagged)

Read me on AO3 | Series masterlist

“So, tell us all the details. Preferably, the humiliating kind,” Natasha asked with a curious air.

You smiled. “What about?”

“Hangman, of course.”

The Dagger Squad was the perfect company to be around, you decided. Jake, your childhood best friend, who you haven’t seen in years, offered The Hard Deck as the place for you to wait until he arrived. Video calls didn’t hold up to the real thing. Especially, with you two being very busy people and you finally getting out of New York to spend some quality time together.

“I need to get the embarrassing goods, at least before Hangman shows up. I mean, we have the perfect person to interrogate. In the rare instances, when he talks about something other than himself, Hangman keeps mentioning you,” she mused.

“Nat-” Bob interjected, who was sitting next to her in a booth while the rest of their squad were scattered in the bar.

Natasha turned her head. “Aren’t you a little bit curious about the depraved mind of Jake Seresin?”

“Not really.”

You snorted at their torn convictions when Mickey and Javy arrived at their table with bottles of beer.

“What did we miss?” Javy asked.

Natasha’s stubborn gaze didn’t stray from yours for many seconds. “I’m trying to crack Y/N.” Her eyes met Javy’s over her shoulder. “Tell Rooster he needs to stall him until I get to the good bits.”

You looked around speculatively. “Is this some sort of initiation or baptism by fire Jake should’ve warned me about?”

Javy offered a small reprieve. “Don’t mind her. She just wants to pick your brain. How long are you going to stay?”

“About a week. Enough time for Jake to show me around San Diego.”

Mickey took a gulp from his drink. “Good luck with that.”

Warm breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine when someone whispered into your ear, “Did I just hear my name?”

Your body jolted at hearing the unexpected voice. “Oh my God.” You turned and found a cheeky Jake standing behind you. “You little f- Don’t startle me like that!” Clambering out of the booth, you jumped into his arms, while giggling from the shock. “Hey, you,” you said, holding on tightly.

“Hey, yourself. Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes, darlin’.”

“You’re such a jerk,” you whispered into his neck.

Jake swayed you lightly. “You love when I’m a jerk.”

Leaning back, you pressed your fingers an inch apart. “Just a tad.” You hesitated. “Like about 10%.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Talk about 75%. It’s part of my charm,” he murmured, stroking your lower back.

“Is this what you tell everyone here?” You teased, pointing to his colleagues behind you.

Javy’s scoff was joined by the others.

You looked back to see their reactions. “You know, I’m starting to really like your group of friends.” While turning back, you narrowed your eyes when you saw Jake glowering at the Dagger Squad before his expression turned into an innocent one.

“I’m starting to question your taste in people,” he said.

Someone snickered next to him. “That’s funny, … Hangman.”

Realizing that another person joined their company, you turned towards the man who looked vaguely familiar from the pictures Jake had sent you. Not to mention, you remembered Natasha’s remark from earlier that Jake would show up with someone else.

“Rooster, right?” You stepped away from Jake’s embrace and shook Bradley’s hand in greeting. Jake merely sighed and crossed his arms.

“Bradley’s fine.” He faced the rest of the group. “By the way, am I the only one that felt really awkward just standing here, watching those two?”

Mumbles echoed all around. “No, you’re not.” Still slightly by the display of the too-long-hug.

A sigh left Jake, who placed an arm around your shoulder. “Don’t listen to the others. And the words of the chicken shouldn’t be trusted. I hope those knuckleheads treated you right.”

You shrugged. “It was fun. I was this close to reveal your darkest secrets for a slice of a good ol’ fashioned apple pie made by … Phoenix, was it?”

“There’ll be no revealing. And no pie,” Jake interjected before pointing at Natasha. “You’ve already been in the company of Phoenix and the goon squad for less than an hour and Nat already found out your weakness for sweets,” he whispered against your neck. “At least you didn’t have to be subjected to the likes of Rooster here.” A shiver coursed through his body. “I shudder at the thought of you having to listen to him at first. He’ll probably want to talk about his caterpillar of a moustache.”

A languid smirk drew on Bradley’s lips as he stroked his mentioned facial hair. “Very funny. You jealous?”

You tilted your head at their teasing. “You have some weird fixation on Bradley’s facial hair. Didn’t you talk on the phone about-”

Abruptly, Jake took you by the hand and dragged you to the bar counter. “Let’s get some food into you. Your blood sugar’s getting awfully low. Someone’s getting tired already.”

“You’re being such a grump, Jake.”

Jake leaned against the counter. “I’m not. I’m just making sure you’re getting some nachos into you, darlin’.”

“You need to be nicer. We both know you’re more of a sweetheart than this.”

He rolled his eyes. “I have a reputation to uphold. And don’t let yourself be bribed by the others.” Jake turned to Penny. “A basket of nachos for this one, Penny?” You rolled your eyes at seeing Jake point at the top of your head.

There was something about Penny’s playful glance that warmed you upon first meeting. The woman nudged her head at Jake. “Be careful with this one.”

With mischief in your eyes, you stole a glance at him. “I know. This one … has been trouble for as long as I can remember.”

“Hey!” Jake uttered in mock outrage before he did introductions. “Penny, that’s Y/N. She’s my friend,” he said, placing his hand on your back.

“And here I thought I was your best friend.”

Jake hushed any further confessions, whispering, “But don’t tell Javy.”

You turned to Penny with a smile. “See? He’s such a big softie.”

Penny smirked. “I’m starting to. Where are you from?”

“Moved around a lot as a kid. Dad’s an Air Force pilot.” You waved towards him. “We grew up together in Texas. But I live in New York.”

Penny’s eyes lit up at the mention. “I’ll get you some cheese dip.”

“Thanks.”

Jake watched Penny wander off with a speculative gaze. “Someone’s making friends quickly.”

“It’s okay. I’ll teach you my ways,” you said only half-teasingly and stroked Jake’s arm. Your hand lingered on his muscles. Wait, were they flexing? “Woah, what happened to your arm, dude?”

Jake’s voice turned concerned. “Why? What’s wrong?”

There was something akin to awe in your voice. “Your bicep feels like it’s going to rip through your shirt.”

His shoulders were shaking when he chuckled. There was something about Jake turning his head to hide his blushing cheeks that stunned you even to this day. “You’re such a smartass.”

“I’m serious. Someone’s really working out, huh?” You mumbled to yourself, “This could make a girl feel weak in the knees.”

“Okay, you need food,” Jake said with a resolute mindset, before calling over your shoulder, “Thanks, Penny.”

He pushed the basket towards your elbow. “Get some chips into you.” Jake just watched you munch on your crispy snack. “Speaking of food, you want to join me and the group to some Barbecue this weekend?”

You barely lifted your head. “Barbecue? Special occasion?”

“Rooster’s uncle Maverick is celebrating his birthday-”

“Woah, hold your horses, Jake.”

You raised your hands. Either to stop Jake from continuing or to restart your own brain. “Come again? Maverick?” Your hands hovered over your mouth, as you mumbled, “You’re inviting me to Maverick’s birthday barbecue party? I don’t feel prepared for this.”

Jake groaned. “Oh great, I forgot your dad is such a Maverick fanboy. Of course.” He closed his eyes in a mixture of misery and defeat.

“Jake,” you breathed in deeply and covered his shoulders with your hands, mindful of not dropping nacho dust on his shirt. “Jake,” you began again, “I’ve never told you this, but this is the first time when I realized how absolutely invaluable you are to me as a best friend.”

“I’m seriously regretting telling you this.”

You nibbled on your lip. “I think I scared Jake off with my … how do I say it … domineering admiration for Maverick. I’m getting the feeling he’s embarrassed of me. You have no idea how quickly he dashed the moment we arrived here.”

Natasha appeared nonchalant at your worries while she took a bite from her noodle salad on her paper plate. “Not possible. I’ve only met you yesterday and can affirm that man couldn’t be closer to you. Hangman was probably held up by something. Or he’s just elevating his testosterone level with Rooster again. You met the birthday kid already?”

“Nope.” At the mention, your hands tightened around the food container.

A soothing smile tugged on Natasha’s lips. “Deep breaths. You can’t miss him.” She pointed outside to the backyard. “He’s the guy at the grill, in the sunglasses and Hawaiian shirt. If he has a mustache, you’ve gone too far.”

“Got it.” You exhaled quietly and reminded yourself under your breath, “No mustache, Hawaiian shirt.”

“You’ll survive, don’t worry.” Natasha looked behind her. “Rooster, take her with you. She wants to meet the birthday man in question.”

“Sure.” Bradley stepped forward and offered his arm.

Your body acted on pure instinct.

“Holding my hand, alright, that’s fine.”

You only mouthed in gratitude, “Thank you.”

They walked a few steps onto the lawn when Bradley looked around. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Nat told me he was probably wrestling in the mud with you to assert his dominance.” You cleared your throat when you realized something. “And not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever you say. Just making sure where you two stand if he sees us standing together, holding hands.”

“Jake Seresin is not my dad,” you said absentmindedly when a dark-haired man caught your eye. Your throat felt dry. “Is that him?”

“As everyone keeps telling me.” Bradley approached the man standing behind the grill. “I found someone who wants to send their birthday wishes, Mav.”

Maverick revealed a crooked smirk. “Is that so?” You could feel his curious gaze through his sunglasses. “You’re a new face.”

“Um, yeah. I’m Jake’s friend.”

“Hangman has friends?”

“I know it’s a first for everybody,” you admitted. Knowing that Bradley and Jake were at least on speaking terms, and with Jake inviting you to Maverick’s barbecue party, you elaborated, “He needs some time to let people get close.”

Bradley gasped. “You don’t say.”

You focused on Maverick. “A few days ago, Jake invited me to your birthday. Hope that’s okay. I brought you peach cobbler as a present.”

At the mention, Bradley’s head whipped around. “Jesus, why didn’t you just go with that?”

Maverick moved his glasses until they laid atop his head and his eyes were uncovered. “You had me at cobbler.” He rubbed his hands against his jeans. “Bradley, you mind taking over the grill for a bit?”

“Fine. Get me a beer along the way?”

“Sure.” Maverick faced you again when he led you towards the table filled with food. “I didn’t catch your name?”

Just being in Maverick’s company felt surreal. You tried to restrain yourself from appearing too much like a crazy person.

“Um, Y/N … L/N. You’re Maverick?” Nervously, you stroked a curl of hair behind your ear. Even saying that name while standing right in front of him felt out of this world.

“Pete’s just fine.” His expression turned inquisitive. “Did Hangman tell you stories or did I miss something?”

You swallowed thickly. “My dad’s a big fan of yours. He’s a pilot in the Air Force. Told me stories ever since I was a kid. Your flight maneuvers have been legendary.”

He smiled at the devotion in your voice. “Still are.” You adored that playful glint in his eyes still shining through.

“Definitely. You probably get this all the time.”

“Want a beer?” After seeing you nod, he gave you a bottle. “Sometimes. Although, that kind of reverie I’m not used to.”

To calm your nerves, you downed some alcohol. “Really? Okay, I’ll try to control myself. However, Iceman’s skills were far-” Your eyes widened at your blabbing mouth before you covered it. “I’m sorry, too much liquid courage.”

Pete—even thinking that name felt strange—released guffaws of laughter at your gaffe. “Hey, it’s still my birthday!”

“I know, I’m sorry. Happy birthday, Ma-Pete.”

~ Jake POV ~

“Hey, Hangboy, I need to have a word with you,” Jake heard Natasha’s hard voice a few feet away from them as he hung out with the boys. Despite that, the concept of strength in numbers didn’t make him feel safe, judging by her vehemence.

He swallowed at the dark glare in Nat’s eyes. “Vernacular?”

Natasha didn’t appreciate the humor and crossed her arms, letting uncomfortable silence fester around them.

Jake pressed his lips together. “Bad timing?”

“Someone ever say you’re a bad friend?”

Without hesitation, he replied dryly, “You. Every morning when I show up to work.”

“I had to send Bradley in Y/N’s direction because she was nervous about meeting Maverick.”

He groaned at the thought, throwing his head back. “Oh, poor Y/N. Being forced onto the company of that dull-stache? Sounds horrible.” Jake checked his surroundings, hoping to pick them up.

There was something about Natasha’s innocent eyes, with murder in her eyes, that unsettled him deeply.

“You make me want to punch you in the gut. And you know I grew up with brothers. I know how to make it look like an accident.”

Jake dropped the drink he was holding on a nearby table. “I have a plan.”

Natasha tilted her head in fascination. “Wow, your brain can actually do that? Could’ve fooled me. What does that even look like?”

He drew nearer at the sound of her challenge. “It’s called giving each other space. Did I miss something or why are you so gung-ho when it comes to Y/N? Do we need to have a talk?”

“Five minutes in her company and I already know how she’s too good for you.”

Something bitter settled in his stomach at the mere mention. As if he didn’t already know. He smiled tensely. “Thanks for the reminder, Phoenix. Do I need to save her from Rooster?”

Natasha waved a hand. “Not to worry. Y/N is having fun with Bob.”

His mind went blank, trying to process her words. Jake pursed his lips, feeling confused. “Wait—w—why—what are you saying? Bob? Bob with the glasses? Or is there another Bob I should know?”

Natasha hummed, analyzing his reaction. She chose to unnerve him further by chuckling maniacally. “Cake stand. Have fun.” And with that she left.

Jake whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes. The food area instantly caught his eye. Y/N stood with Bob and was laughing uproariously. It felt X-Files-strange to watch that anomaly. Y/N arched her back and patted Bob’s shoulder, with a plate of cake slice in her hand.

Feeling perturbed by the macabre reality, Jake imagined Y/N being into Bob of all people. He frowned at that scenario, whispering, “Bob?”

~ Y/N POV ~

You held your stomach. Your cheeks were hurting from uncontrollable laughter, as you were trying to breathe. “Oh my God, Bob, that’s so-”

Jake inched closer with a small smile on his face. “What’s so funny?” He draped his arm over Y/N’s shoulder and reached for her dessert plate, either so she wouldn’t drop it or to have a taste himself. Without looking at him, you placed it into his hands.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “Why didn’t you tell me that Bob is so funny?”

Jake swallowed before coughing. “You learn something new every day. Still waters, huh?”

Bob smiled awkwardly.

Upon seeing his reaction, you spoke up, “I always hated that saying. Bob’s an absolute sweetheart.” To reinforce your point to him, you rubbed Bob’s shoulder.

Bob adjusted his glasses while blushing. “I try my best, ma’am.”

“Bob!” You chuckled in mock outrage, swatting lightly against his chest.

He nodded with a small smile. “Yes, Y/N, affirmative.”

“We’re getting to know each other. I just found out that Bob’s from Montana and his momma used to be a Grizzlies mascot. Personally, I’m more of a Saints girl, but to each their own.”

Jake groaned, with his mouth full. “I’m eating here,” he muttered indignantly. Jake swallowed his food. “What did I ever do to you? The last time we did this, we had the Cowboys/Saints-gate.”

You leaned your head back against Jake’s chest, patting his cheek consolingly. “He’s such a big baby.”

Bob pressed his lips together. “Uh, I think I hear my name. I need to say hello to Maverick real quick.”

You reached out with your arm. “Oh, do put your feelers out if the birthday guy is still fine with me after I was blabbing my mouth about g-loc and Iceman’s record stats.”

“He’s probably fine.”

“But still!” You called out against his back as he left.

It was turning out to be a quiet evening, you realized, rubbing your feet.

Jake stepped into the living room, drying his moist hair with a towel. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, watching you. “Would you look at that.”

You were transfixed on the film playing on Jake’s TV while you snuggled deeper under the towel on the couch. “What’s up?”

Jake decided to join you on the couch and put your feet on his lap. He spread his legs comfortably. Unconsciously, warming your heels. “You know, feels like old times. You sitting on my couch, taking all the blankets.”

You covered your eyes, with a groan, and leaned your head back. “You make me sound like a mooch. I offered to go to a hotel.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant.” Jake chuckled. You felt the warmth of his hand when he reached for yours. Before you could blink, Jake stared deeply into your eyes and interlaced your fingers together. With a smile, he whispered, “I missed this. Feels like old times.”

With blushing cheeks, you felt your skin tingling at sitting so close to him. It was moments like these that made you question the nature of your friendship. You swallowed at seeing Jake’s sage-green eyes sparkle. His soft smile was making it hard to breathe.

You whispered, “Me too.”

“You know what else I miss? And what I can’t stop thinking about?”

You swallowed thickly, licking your lips. Feeling uncertain by his thought process, you slowly asked, “Which is what?”

Jake inched closer. “How I used to do this.” He tilted his head, rubbing his wet hair into the crook of your neck.

“You jerk!” You giggled from his attack. It made him seem more like a dog than a human when he was content in brushing his wet hair against your skin.

He grumbled lowly, as his warm breath puffed against your skin. “But this feels really nice. I could stay like this forever,” he said with a hum.

Your phone emitted a notification sound. “You’re an idiot.” Slapping against his forehead to push him away, deep chuckles followed you while your focus switched to your phone.

“You hungry? I could whip up some chicken teriyaki for us? I think I got some sauce in the cabinet. I know how much you love your teriyaki.” He groaned while standing up.

Giggles left your mouth when you read the incoming messages.

Jake turned his head. “Your girlfriends miss you already?”

You bit your lip. “No, it’s Bob just being sweet.”

Blinking slowly, Jake tried to process the words you just uttered. He cleared his throat. Jake’s voice turned slightly high-pitched. “Come again?” He coughed, placing his hands on his waist. “Are we talking about the same Bob? Bob Bob?”

You hummed in agreement without looking up.

He mumbled, “Didn’t know you guys already exchanged numbers. That’s quick, … right?”

With a curious gaze, you looked up. “What do you mean?”

Jake paused. “What do you mean?” He licked his lips, backtracking a bit. “With, you know, Bob … being a total sweetheart.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of the barbecue. “Well, he is. I really loved talking to him.”

With grumbling breaths, Jake puffed his chest. “Really?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yep, it was fun.”

“As you keep mentioning,” Jake murmured.

“I did some thinking,” you spoke, “and I was wondering, how would you feel about doing karaoke night with your squad?”

At first, Jake had a look of appreciation which took a turn to disappointment. “But karaoke night is our thing,” he said, pointing between them.

“I know, but this could be like a bonding thing. You’d get to know them, I’d get to know them and we could have fun together. Win-win!”

He sighed deeply, letting his shoulders drop. “You’re far too invested in this.”

“I don’t want them to remember me as the friend who didn’t want to bother with them.”

Jake’s voice turned into a soothing murmur. “They wouldn’t dare think that.”

With a whisper, you enunciated, “Not if we do karaoke night. It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

[aggro-my-beloved]

Shaw Pack HC’s (1/?)

note: I promise after this I’ll get some sleep…and dream about more redacted audio HC’s, that is

• Sweetheart has made it their mission to teach Aggro the most random tricks, without Milo’s knowledge. We’re talking fetch, speak, high fives galore. Sweetheart still isn’t sure how Milo hasn’t noticed the cat’s recent weight gain from all the treats he’s been given for “motivation”. It wasn’t until one fateful night that Asher and Baaabe were invited over to break in their new house and Asher left his mode of transportation lying around (him and Baaabe arrived separately since she was working late) that the result of their secret training lessons were exposed.

“Uh, sweetheart,” Milo begins, voice curious and steady.

“Hmm?” His mate hums, craning her neck to peer at Aggro flawlessly passing over the hardwood floor of the living room. It’s yet to be adorned by a rug of their choosing.

“Why is our cat on a skateboard?”

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

• Baaabe has never encountered a physical fight in their life. Always one to stay out of trouble, they keep to themselves and never enter any altercation that involves a clean uppercut or south paw, because they’d surely fail.

Or so they thought. Hell, even Asher did when he begged them to join him in his adventure to the arcade and purposefully led the two of them up to the Boxing Punch Game. It’s the first time Baaabe is seeing the name of the machine, but they are familiar with it. The player decks the red punching bag dangling before them and watches the score tally up to deduce whether they are as strong as they thought or indeed a weakling.

Too afraid of what their results may yield, Baaabe volunteers Asher to go first, which he does without complaint. The sound of his fist colliding with the bag echoes across the arcade hall and perks a few ears, and his score grazes the seven hundreds. Baaabe feels her toes curling in anticipation while Asher keeps on encouraging them to just give it a shot, and that “the score doesn’t matter. You’re unempowered after all, I have a bit of an advanta—“

The rest of his sentence gets caught in his throat, his jaw slack as her numbers climb and climb to over a thousand total points. But even more shocking—to Baaabe’s total disbelief and Asher’s amusement, the punching bag lie on the floor, disconnected from its machine.

Yup. Baaabe broke the fucking game. All from a single hit.

It made Asher hard a little scared of his mate’s true strength. He did the dishes that night without complaint.

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

• Clumsy as they may be, I think Angel is secretly good as secretly good as sewing. Perhaps they worked as a part time seamstress for a past job, maybe a uniform store that involved hemming a measurements. This is a wonderful tool to have for emergency instances, like that broken zipper on Baaabe’s wedding attire which Angel resolved with ease. Baaabe would claim the rest of the night that Angel really is a saint sent from higher deities out of our control. Everyone will blame these babbles on the mate’s alcohol intake.

But in the comfort of their home, Angel uses this power for pure, ungodly chaos. Including, but not limited too:

1. Slightly hemming Davey’s tank tops to fit him slimmer around his waist. His mate loves how it shows off his physique.

2. The clothes he hasn’t worn in a while will be cropped to better fit Angel. How they gaslight David into believing his security hoodies keep shrinking in the wash and he needs a better vendor who uses less cotton is still a mystery.

3. Three Words: Ugly. Matching. Sweaters.

4. The entire pack has one designed by Angel personally and almost everybody loves them. Milo pretends not to be offended when he is gifted his sweater that’s two sizes too small. David rarely wears his unless Angel pulls out the puppy dog eyes, which he can never deny pleasing. Baaabe and Asher wear theirs religiously, even if it’s the dead heat of summer.

[tabithatwo]

Somebody sent me an ask on another platform about the way jackie seems more engaged in sex/almost seems to enjoy sex with travis in a way that is noticeably different than with jeff, and you know what LET’S TALK ABOUT IT !! I feel like that’s an understudied scene tbh and jackie does react so differently than her really haunted quiet reaction and necklace grab tooth brushing post jeff in the pilot so!

The first thing it speaks to in my opinion is actually her suicidality. Jackie had decided to give up on living. She was passively suicidal but like…calling it passive under those circumstances is almost a disservice, she knew she WOULD die, she had decided to die, and she’d said she wasn’t going to die a virgin. So when she had sex with Travis she finally checked that box. There’s a sense of relief to it. And right after she says “so…that was sex.” Which is not exactly indicative of deep enjoyment.

I also think that Jackie was legitimately worn down by Jeff. I think what we see of her in the pilot is a very numb, fulfilling her “duties” response. It’s fucking heartbreaking and there’s history (and, I think, trauma) there. It wasn’t like that with Travis. I think that’s perhaps the first instance of Jackie actually CHOOSING without pressure to engage in sex. Which, even if you don’t enjoy it, even if you aren’t attracted to the person, even if you’re suicidal and doing it bc of your best friend who you’re in love with who has broken your heart, can feel very freeing when you’re not used to feeling like you have a choice.

I also think we see shauna experience pleasure (way more than jackie imo) during the sex with jeff in the pilot. Which is like, entirely about jackie and entirely about shauna. Jeff is just a conduit. Jackie took travis to Shauna’s bed. She stared at shauna over her shoulder as they walked away. She gave him a speech about love and heartbreak that was clearly about shauna right before. So something similar could for sure be happening there.

I didn’t personally read Jackie as truly having a great sexual experience in that scene, but I think she did feel relief of some sort and it’s likely bound up in a mixture of all three of those things (which are all equal parts as heartbreaking as everything else our favorite tragic saint lesbian haunting the narrative went through, excuse me while I sob)

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

It Fucks with me that straight up

Purgatory hall, the new characters and basically people in Mc//ourlives don’t know what Belphie did in chapter 16 and esp in Nightbringer, like we 100% habe trauma and like straight up makes me wanna write angst but I’m Shitty with it and always fuck it up

So I’m just….gonna ramble under cut about it? //spoilers for both games I suppose!

-

So to start, there’s several instances of the brothers (and in one occasion Barbatos and Diavolo separately) get aggressive towards reader and I like imagine they must have some kinda PTSD since they’ve literally died and honestly I self project and I act nothing like Mc…I’d be in fucking tears miserable over the fact I just got warped in the past without anyone but my mentor

Like I cant see my family, friends or PETS for who knows how long???

Just imagine how it would feel….

You’re already living in a worn down old building since the moment you’ve arrived in the past, where else can you go?? The brothers aren’t friendly, you have not a cent to your name, just what’s on your person the second you’re dropped off and left. You WANT to think things will be ok, Solomon is here to help you so at least you’re not alone but…

You will die eventually, what if this takes too long, and you die here? Will anyone from your timeline ever find out?

Would you family know? Your friends?

Solomon keeps reassuring you that it’s fine, but he’s a sorcerer who’s immune to everything…his own stupidity gave him immortality…maybe if you’re unlucky enough he’d make you immortal and you’d…wait till you could see the brothers ‘normally’ again. Well them and everyone else.

As time goes on you ultimately are forced to continue to try to re friend them. Solomon is equal parts helpful as he is a problem, but it all seems to work out.

Until they find out your human. Why does it matter? You never said you were a demon! You TOLD THEM YOU WERE HUMAN. They laughed it off…why is it your fault…your not like them?

Belphegore was the aggressor, just like before. You don’t know if he was going to hurt you and you didn’t want to find out. You saw his hand reaching towards you, almost like they were going for your throat…

Again…

“Not again!”

You screamed as you collapsed on the ground, hand instinctively going to protect your neck. You’re gasping for air even though you haven’t been touched yet, you’re terrified. Is this really it? Is he really going to kill you again? Did you really think…this would end well, Solomon? Diavolo? Barbatos?…Anyone?

Now you are where you are, trembling and in tears on the ground. But you didn’t feel anyone grab you, you did however feel like someone walked in front of you. To your relief, Solomon had come to your rescue…

You wanted to appreciate it, but all you wanted to do was go home now.

You let out a broken sob, you honestly didn’t care anymore if they saw you like this. You have been through hell and back for these idiots and yet, you still love them so much, so much so that all you want to do is see them again, but the version of them you know.

You love them, they are worth it, but why do you have to suffer for it? Your time in the human world after Devildom…nothing bad happened…maybe…you’re the problem?

With your mind spiraling, you don’t even hear everyone shouting, you don’t hear your name, you don’t hear who says it.

All you can do is cry and hope whoever sent you here shows mercy and let’s you go home.

(Ok now it’s done sorry)

[gay-dorito-dust]

mayhaps i request an anomaly!reader who miguel can’t even seem to be mad at because she’s awfully sweet and becomes extremely protective of her over the months he keeps her at the spider hq? and just v fluffy in general because we need to see more of miguel’s soft side 😫😫

Not really a protective Miguel but I still hope it fulfils the soft Miguel aspect tho.

Miguel didn’t know what made you any different to the countless other anomaly he’s caught. The first time your kindness had greatly thrown him off was the moment he caught wind of a anomaly in dimension 619 but once he arrived, Miguel was confused by the lack of destruction that he was use to, the lack of chaos, the lack of panicked out their minds civilians running away; something felt wrong.

Miguel even checked in with Lyla to make sure that he wasn’t sent to wrong dimension but upon insistent confirmation -and a bit of back and forth- that he was in the right dimension as the anomaly, he wasted no time in immediately taking to the streets to hunt down this anomaly that could seemingly bypass the natural disruption their existence brings; So imagine his surprise when he found you -the supposed anomaly- enact an kindness in the form fishing a kitten out of the tree before handing them safely to the kid.

‘Here ya go.’ You said, smiling.

‘Thank you!’ The kid exclaimed happily but once their back was towards you as they made their way home, your body began, what you liked to call, glitching out of existence, your yelps becoming distorted alongside your body before the glitching ceased for the time being; That’s when Miguel decided it was time to actually do what he came here to do.

‘You’re not meant to be here. This isn’t your dimension.’ Miguel stated, thinking he was going to get a rouse out of you but all you did was smile at him, ‘isn’t that why you’re here, to contain us anomalies from causing further harm?’ You said, taking him aback with how complacent you were compared to your fellow anomalies, whom he’d have to tussle with before biting them for that extra measure. You on the other hand didn’t fuss, struggle nor fight back when he escorted you back to HQ; All of which had made Miguel all the more suspicious of your sweet kindheartedness, chalking it down to it just being a ruse, apart of some grand escape you had sitting in the back of your mind for when you could enact it perfectly when they least expected it. So Miguel made it his personal assignment to always keep an eye on you in the instance that your facade should slip ever so slightly; unfortunately for Miguel, that day never seemed to pass for your kindness seemed to know no bounds.

‘Miguel, you need sleep.’ You tell him worriedly, eyeing him as he rubbed his aching eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. It wasn’t hard for anyone to see that the man was neglecting his most basic of human needs for his personal pursuits and projects, to the point that due to his negligence his temper had became a short fuse, as Miguel himself became prone to more frequent -and in some instances violent- outbursts that had no real intended target. ‘Y/n’s right Miguel, you haven’t slept for the past few days.’ Lyla said, appearing next to you. ‘Who’s side are you on?’ Miguel snapped at the AI who merely shrugged her shoulders, he then goes to turn his gaze towards you but no bitter venomous words could escape his mouth, as though they were wedged within his throat with no signs of budging, slowly chocking out his fire for a fight; the effect you had over him had taken it’s course as Miguel felt himself rear back into a state of neutralism.

‘I don’t need sleep, I need-‘

‘Sleep.’ You butted in, uncaring of the side eye he gave you, ‘the Spider-Society isn’t going anywhere if you took a Power Nap, it’ll still be here when you wake up.’ You tried to reason with him while Lyla watched you both, intrigued as she’s never witnessed Miguel actually listening to someone making sense and no bite their head off. Lyla wasn’t oblivious to the way Miguel would watch over you as you talked to the likes of Peter B, keep Mayday entertained or going out of your way to defend and or patch up spider quartet made up of Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles when they returned from missions; You were the soft, homely warmth to Miguel’s ice cold ruthlessness, you were what he needs and he knows it but denies ever acknowledging it because to acknowledge it was to admit to himself that he was healing from the pain that made him the way that he was in the first place.

Miguel didn’t realise the breath that he’d been holding until you rested your hand upon his arm, causing his muscles to tense at first but ultimately relax upon seeing that it was just you as you smiled softly at him. Miguel wanted so badly to hate you but he couldn’t, he thought he had gone heartless ages ago but you’ve single handedly proven that wasn’t the case, he still very much had a heart but that heart wasn’t his anymore; it belonged to you. ‘Please Miguel, you’re killing yourself at this point and I don’t know what I can do to stop it.’ You whispered solely to him as your hand on his arm tightened it’s grip. Miguel finally let’s his walls down and rests his head atop of yours, his eyes closing briefly as he allows himself to be vulnerable infront of you. ‘You’re a pain in my ass you know that, making sure I don’t overwork myself, making sure I’ve got enough for eat, always checking in on me when you could be doing something else worth your time, and yet as hard as I try to find reasons as to why I wouldn’t feel the way I feel about you, the less I find myself actively finding anything to fuel a false narrative and more so in finding reasons for why I want you close.’ He chuckles for what felt like the first in a long time, he also felt like he could properly breath again.

‘Does that mean I can stay?’ You asked, dreading to be anywhere near the go home machine after having seen it in action once or twice on other anomalies such as Prowler or Vulture. ‘I thought my longwinded confession gave it away that I’m never letting you go,’ Miguel said as he cocooned you in his arms, drawing you near so your hands would be pressed against his chest, ‘so I’d suggest you get comfy because you’re not going anywhere for a long while, or just until you become sick of me.’ He adds a little softer so that only you could hear. ‘I don’t think I could ever grow sick of you Miguel.’ You admitted as you buried yourself into his chest to cope with how protected you felt within his hold, almost enough to the point you’d rather live out the rest of your life within his arms if that was possible. ‘Because beneath all that you are is a man searching for another chance and I hope to help you to get that opportunity.’

‘You already did.’ Miguel admits, ‘you are my second chance.’

[oldworldghost]

Are requests still open? If yes could we maybe see a jealous P please? Like he’s learning his emotions and he learns he doesn’t like jealousy or something

Jealous Pinocchio! ☆

↳ Hello nonnie! Requests are indeed still open, and I love jealousy prompts >:3 also sorry to everyone who has sent in a request that I haven't answered yet, I have been sick and busy, well, playing the game </3 Under the cut because this is a long boy

➸ Okay so jealousy with Pinocchio obviously depends, much like you said, on how human he is; how much he knows about not only his own emotions, but emotions in general. It's because of this that, at first, there really isn't a lot of instances of jealousy on his part, and what instances there may be are not going to be immediately recognisable as such. And of course this is due to the fact that Pinocchio just doesn’t have a good grasp on his own emotions initially; he knows he’s feeling something and that that something is almost unpleasant, he just doesn’t know what to do with it or even what to call it.

➸ The main way jealousy at first manifests with Pinocchio is a little off putting, almost. You could probably mistake it for a sort of increased protectiveness; when he sees you talking to someone he stands close, glares at the other person or just watches like a hawk for the duration of the conversation. He doesn’t say anything or really do anything and it gets a little creepy. Don’t get me wrong, Pinocchio doesn’t mean it in a bad way whatsoever – he just wants your attention – but to everyone else it looks like he’s waiting for whoever you’re talking to to suddenly attack or something. It’s his eyes that do it, they’re so dead that is just doesn’t inspire any form of ease when it happens. Luckily, these instances are rare and fairly easy to handle. Just give him your attention and he’ll relax. And of course, as he grows this habit of his simmers down and changes.

➸ [Honestly though this could be so funny too because like, despite the fact that it’s both unnerving and rare I imagine that everyone would eventually end up catching on to what’s happening and god they have a field day with it. Especially Venigni. He doesn’t mean any harm but seeing Pinocchio look like he’s going to combust on the spot is a little bit funny. Do the rest help enable Venigni and this habit? Maybe, maybe. Eugénie is the main co-conspirator here.]

➸ As Pinocchio changes and becomes more human he settles into his feelings more, he learns and grows to not only feel them but process and identify them. And this, of course, goes for jealousy as well. Through both his own experiences and talking with humans Pinocchio is able to realise that yeah, he’s felt jealousy. That that's what that uncomfortable tightness was. However what is most interesting is that the more human Pinocchio becomes the more jealous he finds himself getting, and on a more regular basis. A part of this is because there is an increasing depth to his character and emotions, so naturally they grow more intense, but the more important part is the growing cause of his jealousy; that being his nature as both puppet and human.

➸ Now I do believe that Pinocchio never had an inherent desire to be human, and that it was something he strove to become because he believed that his father would want him as one, and because as a “special puppet” it would only make sense for him to try and change his nature. And so what Pinocchio was or should be never quite bothered him at first - more just filled him with a sense of confusion – but as he grows more human the more he genuinely wants to be one, and your relationship with him plays a major part in that and his jealousy. You see, Pinocchio wants humanity so he can truly love you, but it is this growing humanity and desire that places the weight of what he really is on him; a puppet and as such not enough.

➸ It is jealousy born of insecurity, the more he tries to change the more his faults become apparent to him. His perceived inability to emote, to understand; the disconnect between himself and you, the gap that Pinocchio wonders if he will ever be able to truly close. He is worried, very much so, about being replaced or cast aside, because if the choice came up between himself and someone fully human, well, why on earth would you chose him? This insecurity is only heightened post game, where – and of course spoilers – Pinocchio has been betrayed by his own father, the person he thought loved him despite his being a puppet. I don’t want to build it up too much, but being told you’re only there to be replaced and that you’re not enough by someone who you trusted has to leave its mark, especially when you share memories with the person you were supposed to be only to realise that they were never enough either. Like, yeah. Ouch!

➸ Of course as Pinocchios’ emotions grow so do the rest of his abilities, including being able to tell what he truly does vs doesn’t like feeling. He could always kind of do it, but now he is able to fully articulate the why of it, and jealousy has landed itself into the category of “I Do Not Like This”. Now that itself is fairly obvious, no one likes being jealous, but the main reason its there for Pinocchio is because it makes him feel bad, almost guilty. To him jealousy indicates a lack of trust in partners, but the kicker is that he does trust you. Despite everything that’s happened Pinocchio places his full trust and faith in you day after day, or at least he thinks he does, and on top of that even if you did end up finding someone better and/or leaving he would have no right to stop you. If you wanted to it would break Pinocchios heart, but he would let go because he would hate to try and control you; to force you into something you don’t want to be in. And so not only does his own jealousy make him feel bad but it confuses him greatly, because Pinocchio knows that he can’t control you and that he can trust you, so why does he still get that sinking feeling when he sees you with someone else? [It’s the unresolved issues, but you didn’t hear that from me]

➸ On a lighter note though, while Pinocchios jealousy is heightened and most frequent post-game it will naturally simmer out, much like how the whole protective-jealousy phase did. That is not to say that it is a fast process, naturally it is slow and time consuming - and that in part is due to simply how many things there are to do now that his father and Simon are dead - but with the support of yourself and a few makeshift therapy session with Gemini and Sophia [i.e. literally just talking about what he’s feeling], it ends up being something that he can handle a fair bit better than before. Still a slow process, but manageable [also PAUSE imagine Gemini on a table and Pinocchio laying on a couch like they’re actually in a therapists office with Sophia taking notes].

➸ Anyway yes, the main thing that helps is through talking to you. It gets to a point – and rather quickly at that – where Pinocchio finds that he just really needs to tell you what he’s feeling. He feels bad about it, of course, but I think what he really needs to be told at first is that it’s just natural. People get jealous even if they don’t want to or mean to and sure maybe not like he does, but that is something that can be worked on. Pinocchio needs support in his own ways and for his own things, even if he might not necessarily want to admit it, but luckily Pinocchio can also a very transparent lover, especially after becoming human.

➸Okay to drag this whole thing on let’s back peddle a teeny bit. How jealousy manifests at the heightened point actually shares similarities with how it initially manifested. However instead of coming off as protective it very obviously comes off as jealousy mixed with something akin to fear, for reasons already discussed. He also develops the habit of just quite literally pulling you away from whoever you’re talking to and taking you somewhere else. Pinocchio does this under the guise of “I’m human now so I want to spend as much time with you as I can to bask in it” but it is very obviously just Not That. Or more not fully that, anyway. It does retain a little bit of the humour it originally had, and yes there’s still a little bit of poking fun and riling him up [especially from Venigni] but that is rare, mainly because it’s kind of also just sad that he feels the need to do it after everything they’ve all been through together. And Pinocchio knows rationally that none of them are going to try and “steal” you off him, for lack of a better word, but that rational thinking just doesn’t help much here. However this is also not the only habit that develops, sometimes Pinocchio will simply avoid you for a little, a sort of self pitying isolation mainly because he doesn’t want you to see him upset or jealous. None of the hotels residents know which one is worse to witness, honestly it might be a tie.

➸ Okay so on an actual actual lighter note [and because we cannot be here all day], once both Pinocchios’ relationship with his humanity is better his jealousy becomes something fairly rare, much like at the start. And by that point Pinocchio has also come to terms with it too, it’s a part of him he can accept and make peace with. After this, a lot of instances of it are just kind of cute. Like I will be absolutely real with you he is playing it up to get your attention; you’re getting puppy dog eyes, pouting, and in private Pinocchio’s going to go on some very light hearted spiel about how you no longer love him, all “woe is me” on you. As a human Pinocchio has grown a rather mischievous and sassy yet still gentlemanly personality and it so fucking shows here. A lot of these instances of jealousy are caused by, you guessed it, Pinocchio not getting enough attention, which is a little funny because by this point he’s very able to be alone by himself for a while. The other instances are people just getting too close [i.e. Venigni and Eugénie] or things of that ilk.