#but sure yeah let's leverage the fear

[bossymarmalade]

#ok but...that is literally what Ex Machina is about #it's satire on white men's fear #executed brilliantly by Oscar and the redhead guy #not so much by Vikander bc I'm pretty sure #she was acting this version of 'feminism' #that goes hand-in-hand with white men's fear of insubordination #anyway I have a thicker analysis of this film #that extends deeper than the story #and right into the script and choice of directing/acting #don't get me wrong there's a lot about the movie that is very much male gaze #but to me its the same as Gone Girl in its muddy messaging

yeah like Byrne’s analysis is VERY pinned to a narrow white feminism -- to the extent where it falls apart completely when you consider that the creator of the AI in Ex Machina isn’t a white guy. Just because she read Oscar Isaac’s tech genius character as white doesn’t mean he is. Maybe she should rethink who exactly is doubting the sentience of people of colour in this scenario

Monica Byrne

[devilander]

a mirror in half-light

18+ 1.5k. homelander x supe f!reader. blood, dirty talking, cunnilingus, use of telepathic powers, acts of violence mentioned (not between reader and HL)

From someone so concerned with shielding his mind, Homelander quickly comes to appreciate your telephatic powers and how useful they can be. Especially during a boring Seven meeting.

prompt sent by @infinetlyforgotten, thank you so much 🤍

When you were first introduced to the Seven, many, including your new colleagues, compared you to Mindstorm. Sure, there were some similarities—the ability to see a person’s thoughts or to project specific images. But that’s where it ended. 

The ace up to your sleeve, which distinguishes you and earned your supe name as Quickstep, is both your telepathic precognition, giving you leverage in hand to hand combat, and your crown and glory—possession. Supe or non-supes, all could have their minds hijacked by you; an ability Vought decided not to publicize. 

Your fellow partners in fighting crime knew, though; and from day one you could feel Homelander watching you with suspicion, a stare so filled with distaste your knees almost buckled. 

Seeing you in a corridor, Homelander signaled for you to approach.

“Quickstep,” he sneered, invading your personal space until he towered over you and your neck ached from looking so high up. “If I catch you using your little powers on me, be sure I’ll crack your spine. It’ll be easier than stomping on an ant. Got it?” His sudden artificial smile did nothing to lessen the weight of his words. 

Homelander was your hero, always, since childhood. Not only that, ever since you saw him for the first time, the shining blue eyes, the softness of his blonde hair, that commanding voice... You were a goner. And he most certainly knew. The disappointment almost, almost broke your heart. 

Little by little, however, with the unspoken promise you wouldn’t pry on his mind, you’d grown close. Partners in fighting crime, yeah, of course, but you had his back, no matter what. 

In one of your missions together, Homelander smeared in an innocent’s blood from head to toe, your first instinct was to help him—clean the mess. And you couldn’t lie, him in his violence and brutality did something to you. 

“Hey, you,” you murmured. “Let me help you, okay? Let me take care of it. Let me protect you.”

Surprisingly, he acquiesced. It took no more than minutes to possess the mind of some poor bystanders, having them fight and commit atrocious acts; they wouldn’t know what came over them and Vought would be too happy not to disclose. In quick action, the narrative changed; from rabid supe, to terrorist crowd. 

Later, you found yourself in his penthouse, in his bathtub, naked and cleaning the gore as he squeezed your waist. When you sealed your relationship with a bloodied kiss, you knew there was no turning back—and you loved it. Loved his quirks, his humor, his beautiful nose and soft hair, loved his flaws and all that came with it. Loved the tie that bound you forever. 

“I love you. I love you so much,” you whispered in his ear as you lay in his bed, a few hours before your meeting with the rest of the Seven. “I ache for you all the time. It overflows, sometimes.” You giggled, remembering when your desire burned you so passionately, so intensely, your mind had one focal point: Homelander and what he could do to your body. Without realizing, all your wants and needs were suddenly projected on his mind.

In the first time, you were fearful he’d throw a fit, but he simply grinned devilish at you. 

“Wow,” he laughed. “If I’d known more about your dirty little mind I would have put it to use a long time ago, babe.” 

After that, it became a fixture, in bed, in daily moments where voicing your thoughts wasn’t an option, or in missions when silent communication was useful. And bit by bit, he delighted in it, veritable proof of your devotion and love.

As it were, in this stolen moment, cuddled in his bed, he answered. “And I love you, my darling, My own mirror.” He nuzzled your neck. “No need to scream in my mind, I’m gonna eat your pretty pussy until you beg me to stop.” 

“I’d never,” you said breathily. 

Slowly kissing from your collarbone, to your stomach and thighs, mischievously looking you in the eye as he bit and kissed and licked everywhere around your cunt. His strength was enough to keep you in the exact place he wanted. Such a delicious torture. 

Finally he turned his attention to your clit, dragging his tongue over it in elaborate patterns—he was relentless, and you both moaned at the contact. You were loud, thrashing and screaming at the slightest touch, but only for him. He played your body perfectly. 

Your hands found his hair, soft to the touch, and yanked, wanting him closer and he groaned—the vibrations going straight to your core. Soon he started tongue-fucking, just as you liked it, going deep and slow, alternating to trace your slit from your asshole to your clit; not one part of you ignored. 

“Fuck, you taste so good. You’re fucking made for me, your pussy is mine, mine, understand that?”

“It’s yours! It’s all yours. Please, Homelander, please—”

“Please what?”

“Let me come, let me come in your mouth, I want to feel you.” It was all too much, the mess his tongue made, the wetness running down your pussy and dripping in the mattress.

Moaning, he plunged two fingers deep inside you, as he squeezed your ass, bringing you even closer. You cried from the pleasure he woke in you, and even in this madness you caressed his hair, closing your legs until he was in the position you liked most: with a perfect view of his face, his soft locks, his bright eyes. 

He smirked, squeezing you tighter, until you no longer touched the bed, and he slapped your ass so hard your whole body trembled. 

“Like that, princess? Like when I do whatever the fuck I want with your sweet body? Now show me. Show me what you want.” 

You complied instantly. 

You imagined him feasting on your pussy, licking it all until his spit and your slick became one and the same. His fingers marking your ass, your thighs; biting so deeply even your invulnerable skin would cleave to his superior strength. You wanted his tongue deep inside you, for yours on end, fucking your pussy so good your legs would spasm and you would scream for all the Tower to hear, pussy clenching just the way he liked. You wanted it all—Homelander slurping on your clit and swirling his tongue, making you squirt and swallowing it all, leaving his chin a beautiful fucking mess. 

In the aftermath, body boneless and exhausted, you wanted his fingers, for him to drag it all over your juices and make you swallow and gag on it. Then, in a little tenderness, he'd give you a breathtaking kiss, further proof of your intimate lovemaking. 

As you projected all of this on his mind, his smile grew bigger, more wicked. And you knew he'd deliver it, or even more. 

“You really are such a slut.” You giggled; it was all in the game.

Later on, as all the Seven were debating their latest terrorist attack, and what plan they'd need to put in action, all you could think was Homelander. His hands on you, his tongue lapping at your clit and his disheveled hair—which, you noticed, he didn't fix for the meeting. It wasn't fair, he was too mean at taunting you.

You couldn't keep your eyes off of him and he knew. Flashes of your morning together ran through your mind. No matter how satisfied you'd been, you wanted more, again, all the time. You wanted his kisses and devastation, his head between your legs and his mouth both teasing and giving you the most world-shattering pleasure. 

You wanted to caress his hair, your newfound obsession, while he fucked you, hiting that sweet spot and filling you up with his come.

In your daydreams, you tuned out from the conversation, and like being burned you found Homelander staring straight at you, an expression oh so familiar. Unintentionally he'd become the spectator of your fantasies. 

Rising from his chair so quickly you barely caught it, Homelander said, “That's enough for today. I have other things to take care of. Quickstep, you stay.”

Whispers of complaint were quickly shut down, as Homelander glared at them until each and everyone left the room.

“Well, well, seems like someone is still wantin' for more.”

He laid his hands on your chair, then turned it so you were face to face. 

“I couldn't help it,” you smirked. “I can't get enough.”

“But that's not fair, don't you think?" He clucked his tongue. "It's your turn to please me.” He pulled you from the chair, and manhandled you until you fell to your knees with a thud. “Now, princess, get to work.”

[lvndosnorris]

🍒anon

how about lando letting his girl be on top for the first time ??? luv u

🍒 you've made my inbox so happy — sending you kisses

it was perhaps the fourth, fifth, time you'd slept together before you swallowed your nerves and asked lando if you could be on top this time. almost immediately you felt a wave of embarrassment, the urge to bury your head in your hands and pretend you hadn't uttered a word became overwhelming as you tried to inspect how your newish boyfriend was going to react.

the position you were in had already formed that all-too familiar knot in your stomach — sat in his lap as his blunt fingernails dug into the bare flesh of your thighs. for a split second he thought he misheard you, only realising what exactly you'd proposed when you ducked your head to finish tracing your forefinger over his collarbones. you couldn't stop your babbling, even when you tried; "it's just— i'd hate for you to think that you always have to do all the work, especially because i know how much you enjoy it and— lando stop making this awkward!"

he'd only be able to shut you up by gripping your cheeks, squeezing them together gently as he raised his eyebrow in a manner of are you finished yet? and lando wasn't entirely sure on how to respond: simply catching your lips with his as you shuffled that little bit closer, whining almost pathetically into his mouth as he tilted his head back, letting your tongue slip further against his. it was a messy kiss, a heated one laced with urgency as he felt the blood rush to where your bodies were connected.

you were thankful that he was pressed against the headboard, the wooden piece offering leverage as you lifted your hips just enough for you to bunch his shirt up onto your waist and lando to kick his boxers between the sheets. he couldn't take his eyes off you, even if he tried, enthralled with the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you nudged yourself against his tip, "just go slow, yeah? don't want my girl to hurt herself."

his words offered solace as you strangled back a whimper, barely able to lift your chin from your chest as lando's hands cupped the back of your thighs for support. the angle was different — one that made your cunt stretch in a new way, the pounds of your heart drowning out any mewls that left your mouth as you pushed him further inside of you.

it was lando who stopped you halfway down his length, his forehead scrunched as his sight became impeded by a strand or two of his hair. it was picturesque: the way his biceps flexed as he held you tightly, a sheen of sweat coating his skin as he dropped his vision to where he had disappeared inside of you. his moans were incoherent, a mixture of fuck and your name as he guided your movements, only letting you sink deeper when he heard the way you drawled out your pleads.

mouths clashing he concealed your quiet whines of pain, his tip kissing your cervix in a way that you'd never felt before. his lips didn't leave your, hungrily attached as you languidly rocked your hips, hands clung onto the back of his head as you pulsated around him. lando's hands trailed from the curve of your ass to between your legs, the wetness that coated his fingers earning a groan as he thumbed at your clit — the pleasure surging through your veins as you listened to him groan, neither of you set on cumming anytime soon in fear the euphoria would end too quickly.

[bluesidez]

request for curvy girl and Miguel on their first date night after having a baby?

[Parents Night Out]

 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Curvy!Reader, Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel and his girl enjoy a night out without their baby as best as they can.

content warning: fluff, mom and dad pet names as endearment (and a hint at something more), Miguel loves reader’s body, some mentions of a horror?? film (but nothing gruesome or horrible), a little suggestive but mostly fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: It took me a while to get here, but I hope you enjoy it!

You pull your dress down at the sides, smoothing out the wrinkles, the material scrunching up every time you move. 

Dangly earrings to match the necklace on your chest, a spritz of perfume to your wrists and neck, a slide of gloss across your lips, and a final look in the mirror to see if everything was in check. 

“Honey, you almost ready?”

Miguel stepped into the bedroom, eyes focused on the cuff of his shirt.

“Yeah, I just need to put on my heels,” you peer at him through the mirror and turn around. “You look very handsome right now.”

Miguel peered up at you with a soft smile on his face. He walks over to you as you stand, “Thank you and you look stunning, Mama.” He runs his hands over your hips, squeezing the plush skin.

“No, no, no. We said no baby talk tonight!” you chide like you didn’t almost cry leaving your baby at your mom’s house. You gave her what felt like a binder full of notes just for her to lodge it back in your passenger seat with a comment on how she knew what she was doing. When you got back to your house, you wallowed for an hour before realizing that you could finally take a long, long nap without the small cries of Gabriella forcing your eyes open.

“I didn’t say anything!” He holds his hands up. “I’m just saying your name.”

You hum as your head tilts, “Is this just a scheme for me to call you Daddy?’

Miguel pursed his lips before he answered, “No. But, I’m not opposed to that.’

“Of course, you’re not,” you laugh as you move him out of your way. 

He follows you as you walk to the closet and grab your shoes, hands never leaving you when you bend down deep.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this,” you sigh as you snap back up and look at him from the corner of your eye. “But we have to make it out of the house today.”

“We’re going, I promise,” he kissed your lips. “Let me put on your heels for you.”

Miguel held your waist as you both walked to the door, taking constant glances at you. 

During the third trimester, you had worried that the baby would change your body drastically, a frown on your face as you rubbed cocoa butter onto your stretch marks. Miguel was always there, taking over with steady rubs and affirmations into your skin. 

You were doing something magical and remarkable by bringing another human into this world, by having his child. He was going to remind you everyday that you were beautiful. 

Plus, the baby weight only made him love your body more. He’s been holding you from the waist down nonstop for a little over a year now. 

He let you use his shoulders as leverage as he slid your strappy shoes on and kissed your knee after tying the strings tight. The movement was a habit built from your pregnancy and inability to see your feet.

“Let’s go party.”

The two of you were a vision in coordinating red and black. Miguel’s tiny details from his tie and threading matching the dark velvet of your dress. 

Getting to the restaurant is the fun part. 

He won’t let you touch a single door handle, running to every door before you can even blink. 

He holds your hand as you step into the passenger seat and buckles your seatbelt for you, grinning wide when you peck his cheek. 

On the way to the reservation, the two of you sing wholeheartedly to R&B with no fear of waking the baby with the slightest sound. 

At a red light, Miguel belts through a long riff using your hand as a mic as you laugh at his antics. When the song switches to something even more romantic, he’s gripping your thighs and rubbing circles into the top of your hand. 

When he pulls up closer to the restaurant, you gasp loud. 

“Miguel!” your eyes sparkled as you read the large sign. It was a place you were dying to try for over a year, but every time you called, they were booked. “How did you even get a reservation?”

“I have my ways.”

At the valet, he runs around the car and guides you out, holding your purse for you, not wanting to see you bothered with it. 

He handled everything tonight, from the place you were going to, to the reservations to the movie tickets. You could only see him as he gave his name to the host at the front. 

“Thank you,” you say to him once you both are inside and settled at a table. “Such a gentleman tonight.”

“Anything for you. Don’t want you to worry at all. Just enjoy this.”

The waiter came with complementary bread and water, sliding the menus in front of you both. Miguel ordered a bottle of wine, not even gawking at the price, while your eyes scanned the list of options. 

You both settled on an appetizer to share, entrees to split, and a sweet dessert to feed each other. 

“It’s so lovely in here,” you look around, the dim lighting making it a more intimate scene. A jazz band was playing softly on a stage and the centerpieces sparkled on the table. “I love it.”

“I’m glad,” Miguel reached across the table, “I know you’ve been eyeing this place for a while. I really wanted to surprise you.”

Your eyes almost tear up taking in his sincere expression, “Thank you, truly. This means a lot that you listened.”

“Listening to you comes easy. It’s only when I can’t do something to help you that I feel like everything closes in.”

“Oh,” you blink fast at his words. You look up and fan at your face, “Miguel that’s-”

He pulls out his handkerchief, not wanting you to ruin your makeup. 

“Don’t cry here, baby,” his voice is soft and sweet. 

“I won’t. I just love you lots.”

“And I love you lots more.”

By the time the food comes, you both have stated several more love declarations and recounted your younger days together. You helped yourself to glass or two of wine, the smile never leaving your face, but the giggles escaping every second. 

Now, Miguel was telling you an old story about how he busted his ass to impress you. 

“You don’t get it, cariño. I was so…adamant about getting a certain look because I was certain you didn’t even know who I was.”

“What you don’t know is that a lot of women love nerdy men. I definitely noticed you, I was just waiting on you to make a move.” 

Miguel fed you the last bits of a cream puff dessert, watching your lips slide over the fork. 

You hum and cover your mouth as you chew, “Do you remember that punk phase you had?”

“Oh, would you look at that,” Miguel glances at his watch and waves down a waiter. “If we don’t leave right now, we’re going to miss the movie.”

You cackle at the peeved look on his face.

He was cute with his uneven mullet and pleather jackets. It definitely wasnt’t his scene, though.

The night continues in a pink, warm haze. The sun is slowly setting as you both head to the theater. Miguel hands you more comfortable shoes and places his tie in the back. 

It’s fun to walk into the theater hand-in-hand like a young couple without a care in the world. Buying a popcorn bucket to share and big slushies like you didn’t just eat. 

The movie is what messes you both up. 

It starts off nice. The two of you are settled on the last row with no one else around, the perfect spot for cuddles, kisses, and more. 

Miguel moves the middle arm to bring you closer to him and you slot into his hold like butter. 

The main characters are a couple moving into a new home in the middle of nowhere with a teenager, a child, and a baby. It’s sweet and a little cliche with the couple thinking that the change in scenery would help them connect with their oldest daughter. 

However, of course, there’s something wrong with the house. It’s a bit too perfect, the area too serene. 

You hold Miguel tight as you watch the mom and dad fight for their lives to make sure whatever entity that resided in their house didn’t take their family away from them. 

The father is kicking through a bolted door, trying to pry it open for freedom. The mother is holding her daughter by the legs as she tries to keep her brother alive. You breathe easier as she pulls her brother out of the crumbling floorboards. Your heart stops its rushing pace as you see four of the family members rushing outside. 

“Where’s the baby?” Miguel’s voice snapped you back into pace. His hands were firm on your skin but his eyes were glued to the screen. 

“I, I don’t know,” you whisper.

The scenes that played after had Miguel anxiously moving in his seat. His foot was shaking by the end of the chair, his arms were twitching around your body, and his hands kept fiddling with your jewelry. 

The dad traversed his way back through the house, listening for cries. Miguel looked like he was holding back a yell, body leaning forward as he locked in on the scene. 

The father made it out alive with his baby daughter in his arms. 

By the time the movie was over, the velvet of your dress had his handprints all over. 

You look at him as the lights turn on, his face blank of emotion. 

The walk to the car is quiet, nothing to be heard but the crickets in the grass and the blast of music from someone’s passing vehicle. 

When he slides into the driver’s seat, you lean over the console with a squeeze to his arm, “Are you alright?”

“Is it,” his hand grips the wheel. “Is it ok if we call your mom? To check on Gabriella.”

“Of course, baby,” you rub his shoulders and pull out your phone, your mothers number at the top of your most-recent list.

After a few rings, she picks up. Her head shakes as she takes in both of you with your heads smooshed together in the camera’s view. 

“Look at you both,” she fusses. “Just sad.”

The camera blurs for the longest seconds of your lives, and then it shuffles over a sleeping Gabriella. Her chunky belly moved up and down with her soft breaths and her eyelashes long against her cheeks. She was like a little angel, tiny fingers twitching every now and then. 

Miguel let out a long breath next to you as if he was holding it all this time. 

The camera goes back to your mom who shuffles back to her own bedroom, “Do you two know what the definition of break is?”

“Yeah, mom. Miguel just wanted to check on her. The movie we watched frazzled him a bit.”

“It didn’t frazzle me,” Miguel sniffed. “I’m just a concerned father.”

“Well get unconcerned and don’t call me back! Me and my grandbaby are perfectly fine and you’ll see her tomorrow. Got it? Good.”

She hung up as you let an affronted sound, “I guess you heard that.”

The night ends a little easier. Miguel is more relaxed and decides to take advantage of the empty house. 

He prepares a hot relaxing bath filled with bubbles and a flowery aroma, candles lighting the bathroom while you turn on a sultry playlist and bring out some champagne. 

There’s a dark glint in Miguel’s eyes as you step into the tub, body open for him to see. You bend down and lay on him face to face. 

“This was an amazing date night. Baby-snatcher house and all.”

“We should do it again sometime,” Miguel massages his hands into your back. “While we still can.”

“But for tonight?” your hands run over his wet shoulders, eyes roaming from the curves and turns of him up to his lips to his eyes. “Let’s have fun.”

Miguel groaned as his lips met yours, the water splashing around as his legs move to the edges of the tub.

“Let’s go all night.”

As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[judeswhore]

taste on my tongue; jude bellingham

summary: you’re always open to new things in the bedroom

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, oral (m), throat fucking basically

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this was originally a hey jude ask that i promised to write but i cant find the link to the prompt anymore :((

your head was hanging off the edge of the mattress, phone held up high as you scrolled through tiktok, eyes feeling a little heavy lidded with the need for sleep. you could hear jude in the bathroom, switching the shower off, the low sounds of him humming an unknown tune growing louder as he walked through the door. you remained in your spot, dropped your phone to the bed and watched him upside down.

he had a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else. water droplets still clung to his skin, slipped down along the ridges in his muscles and got lost in the ladder of hair leading into the towel. you could see the outline of his cock through the material and you swallowed, eyed it with unfiltered hunger.

"need to grab some more of that body wash you use, i just finished the bottle." he announced, watching you curiously with his brows pressed together, wondering why you were half hanging off his bed. he came a little closer, swiped his thumb lovingly over your cheek.

"you used all my body wash?"

"was only a little bit left." you weren't sure that was true but arguments failed you because jude had a look in his eyes. that look that said he was seconds away from ruining you. his fingers trailed the soft skin of your throat, completely exposed to him and you shuddered, blinked heavily at the bulge that was growing bigger under the towel. "you've never sucked my dick like this before."

"you've never asked me to." your words were slightly breathy, voice wavering when his palm found your cheek again, thumb against your bottom lip. you licked teasingly at the pad. "could do it now."

"now?"

"uh huh, y'know, if you want to." you reached out and smoothed your palm over his cock, annoyed the towel was still in the way. jude blew out a breath and pressed a little further into your hand. it was a little awkward from your angle but he didn't seem to mind, his eyes locked on yours.

"do you want to?"

"i always wanna suck you off." you muttered and he blew out a breathy laugh at that, bent down so he could kiss you, a soft brush of his mouth over yours before he was straightening up again. he tugged the towel open and let it fall to the floor, your gaze trailing over his thighs and half hard cock. he spit into his hand before wrapping his fist around the base and your stomach tightened.

"we can stop whenever you want to, just tap my thigh twice, yeah?"

"yeah." jude pumped his cock a few times to get himself hard, fist squeezing the tip as he gave a soft hiss. you weren't sure where to look, you wanted to watch the way his fingers teased over his cock, how his chest glistened from the left over droplets of water, the soft look of pleasure on his face as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. you settled on his cock, a desperate neediness taking over as you pressed your thighs together.

"open up f'me, baby." he mumbled, voice a little rough with want. his thumb brushed over your cheek, slid across your bottom lip as you let your jaw tip open. jude tapped his cock against your cheek and then he was pressing it into your mouth, his head falling back on a low moan at the first feel of you. you let yourself relax, thighs pressed tight together to dull the ache that was starting to grow. “oh, fuck.”

he only worked the first part of his cock passed your lips, careful at first not to push you too far for fear of hurting you despite the bubbling need in his chest. your lips suctioned around him, a happy hum vibrating through you as he slowly started to rock his hips, one of his hands holding the side of your face for leverage. you could hear his heavy breaths, the light hitches when your tongue swirled over him and your pussy fluttered, hole leaking with a need to be filled.

jude let out a breathless moan, his thighs tensing against your palms and you wished you could see him, could see the pinched look of pleasure on his face and the vein that bulged in his neck. you knew he’d look devastatingly pretty and you reminded yourself you wanted to record this next time. the heavy feel of his cock against your tongue was driving you insane but you wanted, needed, more. you needed him to fuck himself completely down your throat, to use you without hesitation. he was being too gentle and you knew that holding back was killing him.

nails sinking into the meat of his thighs you tugged, pulled so he hips would press further forward and more of his dick sunk passed your open lips. a garbled moan followed, muffled by jude’s skin and was quickly replaced by a disappointed whine when he pulled out, a trail of spit connecting your lips to his tip.

“babe-baby, wait.” you’d tried to pull jude back in but he laughed held you still, his cock teasingly just out of reach. he was soft when he wiped the spit from your lips, his gaze blown out with lust but somehow still loving when he glanced down at you. “i don’t wanna hurt you. we’ve never- you’ve never done it like this and i don’t wanna go too rough.”

you understood what he was saying, when you gave him head normally you’d be on your knees or between his legs, positions which were easy enough for you to take back control if you needed to. this position left you vulnerable, gave you very little control but that’s what you wanted. you wanted jude to take what he needed from you, to use you until he couldn’t stand straight. you knew you could take it. you curled your hands around his thighs and pulled him back towards you, tongue teasing over the head of his cock until he hissed.

“s’okay, i can take it. promise.” wet kisses were pressed against the underside of his length and he shuddered, blew out a shaky breath. “i’ll tap out if i need to but i want you to do this. please.” it was the soft plea that did him in, the desperate, needy tone you usually used when you wanted to cum and then he was sinking back into the heat of your mouth.

“always so fucking greedy. always want more.” jude was taunting you, teasing as the tip of his cock nudged the back of you throat and you gagged, nails sinking into his skin again. you relaxed into the mattress, let him buck his hips towards your face and fill your throat over and over, eyes closed as you focused on breathing through your nose. “feels good, baby. fuck, y’always take me so well.”

you made a muffled noise of appreciation at that and he tapped your cheek in acknowledgment, a soft slap before his palm was settling against your throat. he could see his cock bulging every time he fucked inside of you, filling out your throat and making him light headed. he squeezed just a little, rocked his hips slowly so he could feel the shape of his dick against his palm on every forward press.

the feeling of his hand on your throat was making you dizzy, an overwhelming need taking over your body. you were alight with want, needing desperately for him to touch you, to relieve some of the pressure that was building. you knew your pussy was soaked, had ruined your underwear and the sheets beneath you, begging for some sort of attention. your clit throbbed and your hole fluttered, a desperate sound getting mixed with a gag as it become too much having him pressed so deep.

jude was pulling out before you could tap his thigh, his cock sliding over your cheek and creating a mess you were too turned on to be embarrassed about. your own thighs were pressed tight together to dull the ache and you sighed when he released your throat and stroked your cheek.

“y’okay?” he asked and he sounded so wrecked a fresh wave of slick gushed from your pussy. you nodded as best you could, took a few deep breaths to calm your heart before you were tugging him closer again but he shook his head. “use your words, need to hear you say it.”

“m’okay. can you-“ you cleared your throat, shifted a little so you could see him properly and sent him a somewhat shy smile. “can you touch me?” jude’s eyes flickered to your legs and you opened them, wide enough so he could see the wet patch on the soft material. he gave a soft groan, nodded his head and stroked your jaw.

“shoulda asked before, baby. take your underwear off f’me.” you were quick to do as you were told, shuffling to get rid of the cotton, throwing it to the floor without a second glance as you let your legs fall open again. the cool air against the heat of your pussy made you want to moan, anticipation hot when jude moved closer to you. “poor girl, she’s just crying f’me. i’ll take care of you, yeah? make you cum for being such a good girl.”

you could only hum because he was sliding his cock back into your mouth, filling your throat with little warning but your lips wrapped around him immediately. he moaned softly when your tongue lathed over his skin, spit dripping along his shaft and over his balls. a surprised but pleased whine got lost in your throat when jude’s fingers finally made their way to your cunt. the pads of his fingers brushed through your wetness, gathered it and used it to circle your clit.

the pressure started off light and teasing, his touch barely there until your hips were rising off the bed and searching for more, frustrated sounds getting muffled by his dick. he brushed soft, slow circles, his pace similar to the one he was using to fuck your throat. it was too slow for your liking, you needed more and when your hips rose for the fourth time jude seemed to take pity on you. cock stuffed to the back of your mouth again, he made a gentle cooing noise.

“shh, i know, i know, s’okay.” he was smirking you could tell, a teasing lilt to his words. his other hand was back on your throat, light this time, just so he could feel his cock moving when he fucked in and out of you but he squeezed once. “relax f’me.” you hadn’t even realised how tense your body had gotten, the teasing swipes of his fingers on your clit making your muscles tighten. pushing a sigh from your nose you sunk into the mattress, spread your legs a little wider and was rewarded with increased pressure on your clit. “that’s a good girl. just let me do the work, yeah?”

so you did. you let him use your throat, quick, deep thrusts of his cock into your mouth as though he was fucking your pussy, each gag and muffled moan spurring him on. he kept a grip on your throat, the bulge in it sending him closer to his realise as his muscles tightened and his cock twitched. the fingers on your clit worked fast and messy just the way you liked, quick swipes and circles that made it almost impossible to think. you were on the edge within minutes, thighs shaking with the effort of keeping them open.

jude pressed a little quicker over your clit and then you were coming, hips rising from the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably as your nails bit into the flesh on his thighs. you couldn’t make much noise, each moan and whine, the soft sob when he didn’t stop, getting muffled by his cock. you’d gushed over the sheets, the small trickle of liquid dampening them and sending your boyfriend into a frenzy. he didn’t let up on your clit, worked you through your high even as it became too much and you wanted to cry from the sensitivity.

“shh, just take it, doing so well f’me. i’ve got you, baby, so fucking proud of you, yeah? did good.” he was rambling, the pace of his fingers slowing as he started to focus back on his own pleasure. when getting you to cum he’d half pulled out of your mouth, gave you a few moments to breathe but now he was fucking his full cock down your throat with new found vigour.

you gripped tight to his thighs and let him use you, jaw slack, tongue soft over his dick, throat relaxed so he could repeatedly hit the back of it. he was getting whiney, high pitched noises filling the room as his orgasm started to burn up his spine, stomach and thigh muscles pulling taut. the blunt head of his cock kept nudging the very back of your throat and a new, breathy moan would fall from jude’s lips when you tightened and squeezed around him, gagged just a little.

“fuck- m’gonna- oh- gonna cum, baby. gonna cum and you’re gonna swallow it like a good girl, okay?” his voice cracked, his hand tightening just a little on your neck as his dick twitched. “feels so good, you’re- fuck- you’re so hot. i love you, shit, i love you.”

jude shuddered as he came, a full body tremor that had you momentarily worried he’d collapse, his jaw slack as moans and whimpers bubbled from his throat. he was loud, louder than usual, babbling that he loved you and that you felt so good, his cum painting your tongue as he pulled out until only the head rested in your mouth. he’d wrapped his fist around himself again and was jerking quickly while you sucked softly at his tip, swallowed everything he gave you with happy hums and moans. he pulled back a little too early and another rope of cum decorated your cheek, your thumb catching it before it could make a mess of anything else.

“jesus christ.” jude blew out a breathless laugh with those words, stepped away and gave you the chance to finally sit up. you did so slowly, sucking your thumb into your mouth to clean away his cum and when you finally sat straight, jude was collapsed onto the bed, arm thrown over his eyes. you watched his chest heave, sweat slicking his skin, spent cock soft against his thigh. he looked mouth-wateringly hot and your pussy fluttered again, hole slick with the need to be full.

“y’okay?” you asked with a soft laugh, crawling across the bed to settle yourself on to his chest. his free arm immediately curled around your waist, a tired smile lightly up his face although he kept his eyes hidden.

“need a minute.” he mumbled, voice soft. you kissed his jaw, made your way over his chin and to his mouth, pecked his lips lovingly. “i don’t think i’ve ever came that hard before. i thought i was gonna pass out.” his lips brushed yours when he spoke and he gave you a light kiss in return.

“bit dramatic.” you teased, snuggling down against his chest. his heart beat rapidly beneath you, chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths and you realised maybe he wasn’t being all that dramatic. you danced your fingers over his skin and he finally lowered his arm, met your gaze with his own adoring one.

he looked more fucked out than you’d ever seen him and it made you ache, hips pressing down so you could grind your clit against his skin. he made a low rumbling noise, gripped your hip tight as his brows drew together.

“can you fuck me now?” you asked, needy and desperate and beyond turned on by the wrecked sight beneath you. you needed him to fuck you, to press you down into the bed and use your pussy the way he’d used your throat but jude was staring at you in bewilderment. you rocked your hips again, whimpered when your clit rubbed against the hardness of his stomach.

“now?”

“uh huh, need it, jude.” you were whiney, pouting down at him as you built a steady pace, used him to get yourself off. he suddenly gave a laugh, eyes crinkling as he shook his head, arms tightening around you. with one quick move he’d flipped the two of you, settled you on your back on the mattress and pressed himself between your open thighs. you giggled at him, the noise growing louder as he bit playfully into the curve of your jaw.

“you’re insatiable, woman.”

[freyito]

Since Halloween is coming up, can you write headcannons on how the lin kuei trio (Bihan, Smoke and Kaui Liang) would be if they went to a scary attraction with their s/o?

im on a ROLL with these fluff prompts, like i actually love them all sm, please keep requesting them!!!! i love writing for the lin kuei trio especiallllyyyyyy. ALSO CAN HALLOWEEN COME AROUND FASTER??? THE HEATS BARLEY DIED DOWN, I WANNA DRESS GOOD

cw: fluff, gn reader, clowns, proofread

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴ ᴋᴜᴇɪ ᴛʀɪᴏ + ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Tomas...

is lowkey terrified. Johnny put him up to this. Told him it'd make you two closer. He said it's a really good bonding experience. And Tomas believed him. Johnny didn't lie, but Tomas just didn't know it would be this scary. Yeah, he's seen worse, he's a ninja, after all. But something about clowns... eugh. It will always be the clowns that get such a visceral reaction from him. He'll flinch, get all close to you, and maybe even hide behind you. You'll hear all sorts of Czechian swears under his breath, Jdi do hajzlu, while he holds onto your shoulders. You'd think, for a hunter and a ninja he'd be a lot less skittish, but Tomas insists it's simply just scary. However, if you're skittish too, Tomas will try and be calm for you. He likes being your protector, I mean, that's what he, as a Lin Kuei Ninja, is in essence. It's just hard to uphold that kind of façade when there are so many clowns lurking about, with their evil giggles and horrible face paint.

Bi-Han...

doesn't understand the appeal. He isn't really phased. But, he's so sure that Johnny had a hand in this. He doesn't even flinch, not when those clowns Tomas hates jumps out at him, when the zombies groan at him, or even when those fake serial killers rev their chainsaws at him. Because of this, some of the scare actors have decided to make Bi-Han a personal target, some even placed bets on him. And a lot of them have realized that maybe the one on his arm is the key to scaring him. Not like he'll let that happen. He quite enjoys the fact that you're clinging to him, squeezing his bicep and all. Now Bi-Han knows you feel safe with him, even if it's against some phony scare actor. Truth be told, he enjoys having you like this. Not that he's going to tell you that. Once Bi-Han catches onto the scare actors game with you, he makes it his personal mission to foil their plans. Yes, he enjoys having you use him as your shield, but he isn't gonna let those actors use you as leverage. So he buys you the no-scare lanyard. And if you refuse to wear it, he will. Proudly. Not like the actors have scared him yet, anyways.

Kuai Liang...

loves haunted attractions of any sort. He's a little bit of an adrenaline junkie. He loves getting scared, his favorite things are usually the actors up on stilts. And the bonus of holding you close, feeling like your knight in shining armor. Kuai Liang loves throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you in, especially when you find yourself hiding behind him. Bonus points if he gets to pull you even closer when one of the actors jumps out at you. Kuai Liang likes to get you to face your fears, even if they're your temporary fears. Doesn't mean he'll force you to do something you don't want to, but he likes the thrill of it and he hopes you will too. Kuai Liang will even carry you, if you so wish. He really can't get enough of the attractions, and normally you and him are there until it's closed. He actually kind of mourns when it closes. But hey, as long as you enjoyed it as much as he does, he leaves happy.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[st-eve-barnes]

Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)

Chapter 2

Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?

This chapter: Michael starts tutoring you but things are off to a rocky start.

Word count: +1900

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol) I haven't watched Saltburn yet so all characters in this fic except for Michael are my own.

Read Chapter 1 Here

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

After almost two hours of Michael’s tutoring you were beginning to contemplate throwing in the towel and just letting Ben release that video. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Michael had been cocky as soon as you had sat down in front of him in the library that evening. Right now he was bordering on rude and very obviously growing more impatient with you by the minute. And the faster he talked the less you listened, leaving you both frustrated.

You had a splitting headache and all the numbers and calculations were just dancing across the page now, mocking you. None of it made any sense, no matter how many different ways Michael tried to explain it all to you. 

You were good with history, languages, art or psychology. Numbers were hell on earth.

“Are you even listening?” Michael sighed impatiently, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms behind his head.

“Yes,” you nodded, followed by a heavy sigh,”No, ugh..I’m sorry, I just…I lost my focus about an hour ago.”

“An hour ago? You didn’t even have it to begin with,” Michael called you out.

“I just don’t know how this is so easy for you, like you don’t even have to think about it at all.”

“That’s because I don’t,” he answered smugly, making you roll your eyes.”Go on. Ask me a sum.”

You sighed some more but indulged him anyway,”33 times 20.”

He gave you a look,”Don’t insult me, a real sum.”

“333 times 444.”

“147.852,” he answered without even blinking. You had no way of knowing if his answer was even correct but you didn’t doubt it for a second.

“How did you do that so fucking fast?”

“I don’t know, I can just do it, in my head, I don’t have to think about it.”

“Lucky you,” you rolled your eyes again.

“They’re gonna get stuck in your head if you keep doing that, you know,” he teased, making you squint your eyes at him.

He shook his head with a little amused grin,“Ask me another one then.”

“It’s fine, you made your point, you’re a genius.”

“Ask me another one, just to be sure,” he insisted.

“Michael, it’s fine, I get it.”

‘Ask me another fucking sum!” he raised his voice, making the few other people in the library look up at you both with annoyed looks on his face. You wanted to crawl under the table and disappear.

“Alright, fucking hell…1245 times 987.”

“1.228.815,” he answered, giving you another satisfied little smile.

You just stared at him without saying anything.

“My brain works different from yours,” he then explained.

“Yeah, no shit.”

You were beginning to see why Ben was so threatened by him, Michael was an actual mathematical genius, Ben didn’t stand a chance at that internship. That thought suddenly filled you with immense joy. And then fear, because if Ben didn’t stand a chance then what were you even doing here?

Michael watched as your face fell.

“Do you want to take a break?” he suggested.

You nodded,”Yeah, a permanent one, I’m never going to get this.” You dropped your head onto the table and let out a desperate little whine.

Michael just shook his head,”So you’re a quitter, I would say I’m shocked but my mum told me never to tell a lie.”

You lifted your head to give him an angry glare but he just ignored you and closed his books, not giving you time to object before he was up and out of his seat.

“When you’re serious about wanting to learn, you know where to find me,” he said,”Until then…stop wasting my time.”

“Michael,” you sighed but he was already walking away from you, and with it your last chance to stop Ben.

You couldn’t let this happen, if you let him go now your fate was sealed.

“Michael, wait!” you rushed after him without thinking, finding him halfway in one of the book shelves. 

You grabbed at his arm to stop him, taking him by surprise. 

He froze, eyes staring wildly at the spot where your hand was touching his arm. But he didn’t pull back or try to stop you. Instead he almost seemed to lean into your space a little, accepting your touch, his mouth opened in a surprised little sigh when your fingers gently closed around his elbow. 

Of course the nerd was touch starved, it was almost too predictable. And was that a blush creeping up on his pale cheeks?

Ben had been right, Michael clearly wasn’t used to being touched, especially not by a woman. But he didn’t seem to dislike it, at all.

Maybe this mission wasn’t so impossible after all.

It was a desperate move, you realized that, but desperate is what you were.

“Please, wait,” you begged again, placing your other hand on his wrist while you gave him your best sad eyes and pouty lips,”You can’t give up on me, Michael. Please, you’re the only one who can help me, I need you.”

You watched him swallow hard at those last words, his eyes flickering from yours down to your lips and back up again.

He was staring now, shamelessly, not even trying to hide it. You used his obvious interest to lean in closer, so close he could almost feel your breath against his cheek and when you slowly and very deliberately licked your lips you could hear him bite back a quiet whimper. 

You took another step forward and carefully pressed your body up against his. That’s when you felt it, undeniably, he was hard. You had barely touched him and yet he was rock hard in his stupid cargo pants. 

You had him right where you wanted him and you could have sworn he was about to close that final distance between you two and pull you in for a kiss.

But then he leaned back and his thin lips curled up into a smug, annoyed grin.

“What are you playing at?” he asked.

“What do you mean? I’m not playing….”

“Stop lying to me, you stupid girl,” he growled and took a few steps back from you,”You say you want a tutor but you don’t give a shit about what I’m trying to teach you and now you want to…what….seduce me? How daft do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re daft at all!”

“I know this isn’t about math and it sure as hell isn’t about you wanting to get into my pants, girls like you don’t want nerds like me.”

“Girls like me?” you asked, staring at him with anger in your eyes,”Oh, you mean stupid girls like me? Listen, you little shit…”

“I meant pretty girls like you,” he interrupted you, shutting you up instantly.

He took a step closer again, towering over you and forcing you to lean against the book shelves behind you.

“What is it you want from me then?” he mused, as if he was asking the question more to himself and not you,”You’ve never paid any attention to me before this week…not until…I saw you scheming with Ben in the library a few days ago.”

Your eyes widened at his statement and it was enough for Michael to know he was onto something.

“I fucking knew it,” he shook his head and laughed,”What does that twat want from me this time, hmm?”

“Nothing,” you answered, too quickly.

“You’re a bad liar, girl.”

His stare was making you nervous, you wanted to blurt out everything to him and at the same time run away and never speak another word again. But there was no place to run from Ben and his ugly threats. Michael was your only ticket out of that bad spot.

He stepped back from you with a sigh,“Fine. Whatever. Tell your rich little friend that whatever you and him want from me he’s not going to get it, under any circumstances. Can you remember that or should I write it down for you?”

You nodded, feeling tears well up in your eyes. Michael’s harsh tone combined with the hopelessness of your situation was suddenly too much and you burst out into tears.

To your surprise Michael’s whole demeanor changed instantly and he rubbed his hand over his face with a heavy sigh.

You started crying,“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to involve you in this shit, I’m so sorry, Michael.”

For a moment he just looked at you, your tears and desperation too real for him to ignore.

Then he leaned back against the book shelves next to you, not saying a word. You looked up at him through your teary lashes and it was the first time you could see real compassion in his blue eyes. ”What does he have on you?” he asked softly.

”We used to date, he has some…private material he’s threatening to release.”

“Fucking prick,” Michael spat out.

“Yeah, he really is and I’m an idiot for ever being with him,” you wiped at your tears and looked surprised when Michael reached into his pocket and handed you a handkerchief. It looked like the ones your grandma used to have and you couldn’t help but smile through your tears.

”Thanks,” you sobbed and used it to wipe your cheeks dry.

“So…what did he want you to do in return then?”

”He wants that internship at Charter Inc.”

Michael nodded knowingly,”Yeah, that one is mine.”

“I know,” you smiled weakly,”That’s why he…he wanted me to distract you.”

Michael scoffed,”Jesus fuck, what an idiot. There’s nothing on this earth he can do to keep me from getting that job.”

You nodded,”I know.”

And with that realization came more tears. You used Michael’s handkerchief to keep them at bay.

“Do you think he’d actually do it?” he asked,”Are they just empty threats?”

“I honestly don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t want to find out.”

You both stayed quiet for a while. Michael didn’t make any attempts to comfort you or touch you, but he didn’t move from his spot right next to you either.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do, Michael, this isn’t your problem, or your fight.”

He nodded,”Yeah, you’re right, it isn’t.”

You could feel your stomach drop in defeat.

“But,” he then added,”I’d really fucking hate to see a rich kid win in life.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through your tears.”Got any ideas?”

He thought about that for a little while and then he nodded,”We could…make him believe his plan is working? I mean, for now, until we can come up with something better.”

“How?”

“He won’t do anything as long as he believes you’re on board, yeah?”

“I guess not.”

“So we pretend that you’re…distracting me.”

You laughed bitterly at his choice of words.”He wants me to fuck you, that’s what he means by distracting you. You realize that, right?” you then blurted out and Michael snorted out loud but he regained his composure quickly.

“Then…I guess we pretend that you’re fucking me,” he said calmly, letting his eyes meet yours. You felt a shiver run up your spine, the good kind.

“Alright,” you nodded.

“Alright,” Michael repeated, keeping his eyes on you for a few moments too long before he eventually looked away and nervously pushed his glasses up his nose, smiling shyly,”When do we start then?”

[dixonsgirl93]

Soul Ties

“You like Daryl, don’t you?”

Carol’s question caught you off guard and you turn to look at her.

You sigh and look back up at the night sky so full of stars, you’d never seen anything like it.

“It’s more than that.”

Carol waits for you to say more, looking up at the sky too.

“Shame the world had to go to hell for us to be able to appreciate the sky at night. You don’t realise how many stars there are until you see it for yourself.” She commented.

A moment passed in comfortable silence.

“Daryl is like…” you start and then stop again. Somehow saying ‘soulmate’ out loud sounded dramatic and a little embarrassing.

“When I first met him, I felt like there was this moment. Not like love at first sight or anything like that, it’s hard to explain but I’m sure he felt it too. We locked eyes and…I don’t know, something happened in that moment.”

Carol had turned to you and was listening intently. You stared off at the stars, lost in thought.

“Since then, talking to him and being around him feels like the easiest thing in the world, like we’ve known each other forever. It’s weird. I’ve not felt like this with anyone else.”

“I had a feeling there was something going on between you two. I could see it. The others probably all can too.” Carol admitted. You turned to her, embarrassed.

“Oh my god. Is it that obvious?”

Carol chuckled at the look on your face. “You act like teenagers. The way you talk to each other. Honestly, if we hadn’t all met after the outbreak I’d have assumed you’d grown up together or something.”

Your heart warmed at her words. “Really?” You smiled.

“Mhm.” You could feel her watching your reaction.

“I don’t want to be dramatic but…it feels like how I imagine soulmates feel, you know? That instant feeling of comfort around them. Instant connection.” You shake your head, trying to find the right words but this was a whole new experience and it had never made sense to you.

“Yeah. That sounds about right, actually.” Carol nodded. “I’ve never had that connection with someone but by what you’re describing, you’re lucky to have found it. Not many people do.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“So, what’s going on with you guys? Are you just friends or…something more?”

You laugh softly. “It’s hard to say. There’s mutual attraction there, for sure. We flirt and…little touches here and there that just…get my heart racing, you know?”

“Just little touches?” Carol teased, nudging you with a smirk.

You smiled. “Yeah. I’m not sure if he’d want…anything more with me. I’m scared to ruin what we have. He means too much to me.”

“I get that. But, I think he likes you. No, actually, I know he does.”

You turn to Carol, your heart racing. “How?”

Carol tilts her head and scans your face. “The way he looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “Don’t get my hopes up.” You whisper, not daring to believe.

“You need to talk to him.” Carol insists, squeezing your knee.

“I…” you wanted to but the fear, the prospect of losing him was too great. “I can’t.”

“I hate to break it to you but you don’t have time like before. Life is short.” She leaned over and whispered. “Be brave.”

You chuckle incredulously. “I’m a wimp, Carol. Besides, the last time I made the first move I… Well, let’s just say, never again.”

Carol rolled her eyes at you. “Just remember what I said.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and used it as leverage to stand. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

Her words lingered for a long time afterwards. She was right, of course.

But, also, maybe Daryl was braver than you…

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 8th

modern!anakin x choking

this is so bad i hate it

the first time you’d asked anakin to choke you, he said no.

well, not specifically. you were on your back, laid out bare for him with his body slot between your legs, hips rolling languidly against yours as he slowly massages his tongue over your own. it was so intimate, unable to stop the whimpers and whines from leaving you with his open mouth pressed to yours. you’d pulled away to moan, but missing your mouth he’d gently tugged your face back to him with a hand on your jaw.

you liked how that felt.

his big strong hand clasping you like that, the threat of roughness behind a tender moment, the casual dominance. you pictured his hand travelling that little bit lower and squeezing your neck the same way, and you clenched around him hard.

“you feeling good baby?” he coo’s, feeling you flutter around him. shakily, your own hand comes up— resting over his much larger one. through your own pleasured haze, you apply some pressure and drag his grip down so he’s lightly holding your neck.

“please choke me.”

you look so fucking good, and god does he want to — wants to grip you by the neck and use you for leverage to fuck, saying all kinds of nasty shit, and yet… he worries. anakin is an overthinker— and his worst fear is hurting you. with the potential of this happening presenting himself, he moves his hand away, replacing the touch with his lips instead.

“you telling me what to do?” he teases, and leaves it at that.

the two of you finish up, and he spends the next half an hour comforting you — the post orgasm haze making you feel a little more fragile and embarrassed.

“i’m sorry.” you offer meekly into his shoulder as he cradles you on the bed. “i shouldn’t have put you on the spot.”

“baby,” he sighs, pulling your face away to hold it in his hands. he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself and you just feel… bad for even making a deal out of it in the first place. “i don’t want you to feel like you can’t ask for what you want. wanna make you feel good, yeah? it just caught me… off guard. and i don’t really know what i’m doing.” he chuckles, a comforting hand smoothing along your spine. “don’t wanna hurt you.” it comes out muffled into your cheek as he places a kiss there.

that’s the last time it gets brought up.

but one thing about anakin, is that he’s attentive. obsessed with detail and competing with himself, always wanting to be performing the best that he can be. whether it’s at the gym, or work — he has to be constantly pushing himself to be the best he’s capable of, and this extends to the bedroom. if there was something that could be making you feel even better, you bet your ass he was all over it.

after some extensive research on how to correctly choke someone without killing them, he pockets the knowledge and waits for the opportunity to arrive— and soon, it’s presents itself in the form of a particularly rough session, after you’d begged him to fuck you hard and deep because you needed what you referred to as a ‘factory reset’ after a hard week.

so there, you found on yourself flat on your stomach with your boyfriend mounting you, clutching a pillow like it’s your life line. the white material was stained from your mascara, anakin fucking you so deep that all you could do was sob and take it.

“just needed me to empty that pretty little head, hm?” he hums in your ear, hot breath warming the side of your face. his words make you clench hard, and you drop your face into the sheets to muffle your mewls.

from instinct, anakin lifts your head off the sheet to make sure you’re breathing and getting all your pretty noises out loud and clear— he does this by holding you by the neck. once holding you there, he gently squeezes the sides, testing the waters.

you let out a sound so heavenly, he has no choice but to do it again.

“hows that, hm? you tap me twice if you don’t like it, yeah?”

“mhm, okay ani!”

you clamp down, feeling a little lightheaded and completely at his mercy — this alone, had you spiralling towards your orgasm. you lightly hold onto his tattooed forearm, almost in disbelief that he was finally giving you what you craved.

“just needed to get choked out by your big strong boyfriend huh? poor baby, so messed up.” he grins ear to ear, watching you come undone all over his cock.

requested tag! : @hanasnx @jellydodger

[coalswriting]

time of need - natalie scatorccio

summary – you get captured by your nemesis when your power is needed. (approx. 1.4k words)

a/n – i am very rusty with writing rn!! but this is more of a world-building/introduction chapter. i’m not too sure if i’ll continue with this but if anyone wants to help me out on how to turn this into an enemies to lovers, i’d love to get it done some day :3

anyways, antler queen = lottie, serpent = nat, judgement = taissa, saint = laura lee & you are (h/n) / hero name.

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your head rang as you began to regain your consciousness. your limbs felt as heavy as lead as you tried to move them, your eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

where were you?

then, you noticed two things. one, that you couldn’t move at all, and two, that you were not in your superhero costume.

oh crap.

white metal walls surrounded you with the clinical vibes of the white lights above your head adding to your headache. you felt exposed and vulnerable, and you supposed that you were, considering you were tied to a damn chair.

struggling, you attempted to loosen the restraints around your limbs. you just needed a bit of leverage, and you’d be able to escape. suddenly, you felt your blood run cold as a door slid open in front of you, and through it walked no other than your arch nemesis, serpent.

“i didn’t expect you to be so easy to capture, (h/n), or should i say (y/n) (l/n)?”  

yeah, you were screwed. when you had made your small hero-squad with antler queen, saint, and judgement, you had sworn never to reveal your identities to each other or the public. ‘it’s way too dangerous and we’d get a lot of people hurt’, you had remembered judgement scolding you.

“serpent,” you seethed. her voice sounded like venom in your mouth, fittingly so. narrowing your eyes, you glared as her blonde locks fell through her hood. you began to struggle more, as she came towards you, fear filling your body much like that of a rabbit about to be eaten by its prey.

“no point struggling, i’ll just knock you out again,” her lips fell straight into a smirk, and you had to tear your eyes off her, instead, opting to look down at the floor.

how did you even get captured?

oh, yeah, you remember now. you were helping a child escape from some rubble while your three teammates were preoccupied with serpent’s groupies. and well, turns out the small child was serpent herself, just shapeshifted. obviously, when it comes to a fight with a shapeshifter who can change their body at will, and somebody who can heal others a considerable amount, the shapeshifter will win. sometimes you hated your power, god.

you took a deep breath, feigning the dread in your stomach, before looking up at her. “right, what do you want?”

serpent’s composure seemed to falter for a moment, her smirk dropping into a thin line. heh, she wanted to stay on her power high for longer. well, you weren’t going to let her do that. win for (y/n). 

“i need your help.”

you stared at her for a moment, raising your eyebrows. “you… what?”

“i need your help, what the fuck don’t you get?”, she snapped, and you nearly fell off the chair from shock. serpent’s demeanor softened as she looked at you apologetically for a moment. “sorry.”

you gulped, nodding your head slightly. you didn’t expect one of wiskayok’s most notorious villains to have a polite side. “yeah, yeah… what do you need me for?”

the blonde pulled her hood down, uncovering her hair. you couldn’t see her face due to the scaly green mask that covered her features, but she looked beautiful, actually. or, ugh, maybe she’d concussed you when she had knocked you out. yeah, that must’ve been it.

“my team’s engineer got into a bad accident when working a few days ago. we managed to keep her stable, but her face is pretty damn fuckin’ mangled.”

she stopped for a moment, watching to make sure you were listening before continuing.

“i’ve seen you literally reconstruct people’s faces on the battlefield. i want you to fix her.”

silence fell over the both of you as serpent paced back and forth in the room, waiting for an answer. you noticed how quietly she walked despite wearing chunky boots and loads of shimmery scale-like armor – it was like she had trained herself to do as such, like she hadn’t lived a life where she felt safe.

“okay,” you finally said, “i’ll do it.”

“what?”, she choked, turning her entire body towards you.

“yeah, you’d literally kill me if i didn’t. but, i want you to let me go after.”

a ghost of a smile crept onto the blonde’s face as she stepped towards you. you looked into her hazel eyes, if that’s what they really were, and she stared into your (e/c) ones. then, suddenly, you felt a cold, yet gentle hand on your jaw, as she pulled it up slightly to inspect your face. goosebumps covered your body as you felt your heart thump in your throat. you felt intoxicated, staring at her and you couldn’t tell if you were panicking from how vulnerable you felt, or from how beautiful she was up close. dang, you knew you’d beat yourself up for being attracted to the enemy; the enemy who had done so many awful things, but also the enemy who had never intentionally hurt an innocent civilian. this was wrong.

suddenly, you felt yourself get lighter, and as serpent let go of your jaw, you realized that she had cut the ropes off you with one swoop of her shape-shifted hand. you swore her cheeks had a red tint to them as she turned to look away, muttering a, “had to make sure i wouldn’t slit your throat…”

how romantic.

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“so, this is your engineer?” you enquired, staring at the girl sitting in front of you. her face was covered in bandages, and she seemed a bit reluctant, avoiding eye contact.

serpent only nodded, keeping an eye on every movement you made. she was like a hawk, stalking its prey, and you felt unnerved. if you made one wrong move, you weren’t sure if you’d come out of the lair alive.

“what’s your name?” you asked, sitting down on the seat next to her. before she could open her mouth to speak, serpent cut in with a “no formalities!”

sighing, you rolled your eyes.

“okay, this will be fast; i need you to close your eyes, and i’ll touch the injured part of your face. you don’t need to remove your bandages.”

“will it hurt?” the ginger questioned, shocking you – the whole time, you had thought that she wouldn’t utter a word to you, and for a moment, she kind of sounded like a girl in the av club you attended every thursday. you mentally shook off the connection, deciding that you were probably just concussed and delusional.

“no,” you simply replied, “it’ll feel very hot for a second but that’ll quickly turn into a pleasant warmness. i can focus properly here so there’s no risk of it going wrong.”

and with that explanation, the girl closed her eyes. serpent watched closely as your right palm began to glow, and you placed it onto the girl’s face.

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as much as you didn’t expect it, serpent was somebody who kept to her word. one second, you were performing your healing magic, the next, you were awoken by your roommate, jackie, throwing a rabbit plushie at your head. “jesus, (y/n), turn off your damn alarm! it’s been going off for ages!”

you moaned, disoriented, grabbing your head with one hand while reaching over to turn off the alarm. your brain felt like it was imploding.

“holy shit, you look awful! did you hit your head?”

hearing this caused you to sit up almost instantly and peer across the shared room at the mirror that adorned the wall. yep, you had a bad bump above your left eye and the bruise that was forming was not pretty.

damn fucking serpent.

“oh, yeah, uh. i bumped my head getting out of the shower last night,” you lied biting your tongue, “you were asleep.”

your roommate simply shrugged her shoulders before murmuring “be more careful” and flipping to face the wall in her bed.

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you shuffled through the hallways of your university, dodging hordes of students who had just finished their evening lectures. it was your favourite time of the week; av club, and as you swung the door open, you walked into somebody.

“oh, sorry,” you murmured, staring at the perpetrator. she was a bit shorter than you and had layered platinum blonde hair and intoxicating chocolate brown eyes. your mouth hung open for a moment, trying to figure out why this girl looked so familiar. “um, do i know you from somewhere?”

she simply shook her head ‘no’ before pulling out a box of marlboro reds. “never seen you in my life. i’m nat.”

“(f/n),” you replied, quietly. the girl nodded, acknowledging you, before brushing past you coldly.

behind where she had stood, in the back of the club room, you could see van staring.

[theladyragnell]

Blossoming romance prompt #11 with Parker and Hardison from Leverage, please :D

(Set at some nebulous point probably in s2 or s3! #11 is picking a leaf/flower out of someone's hair or brushing dirt from their face, and of course I had to go for a slightly gross take on it.)

Parker notices it because Parker is watching. Which is maybe a stupid thing to think, but Parker is watching because they’re both hurt, because sometimes the thing about having a team is that when things go wrong it makes her feel like she’s coming apart at the seams instead of excited to get to take the exciting way out of a building. So she’s watching, because she doesn’t know how to go over to them but she doesn’t know how to reassure herself they’re safe if she can’t see them either.

They had to crawl through a tunnel in the basement of the building, and they both look awful and, according to Sophie’s noisy concern, smell worse. They’re making fun of each other, in that way they do, and Hardison makes an exaggerated face of disgust and goes for Eliot’s hair, pulls out a gummed-up clump of leaves that probably got washed down a storm drain when it rained two days ago.

If Parker were somebody else, she’d probably just see the way Eliot snaps a second later, swatting Hardison’s hands away from his head, see the way his mouth moves around the words “Not the hair, man” like it’s any other job. Sophie laughs and Nate says “Gentlemen, please,” so that’s what they see. Just Hardison and Eliot being Hardison and Eliot.

But Parker sees the second that it takes, Hardison’s hand lingering there close to the place Eliot’s scalp is bleeding, Eliot’s sharp little breath. They lost contact with the team for a little while in there. Something bad happened, bad enough that Hardison hasn’t made a show of complaining about it yet.

Hardison is the one to come to her, because he always is, laughing over his shoulder at Eliot, telling him that if he cares so much about his hair, maybe he should wash it with shampoo and not whatever was in those pipes. “Hey, Parker,” he says, and the smile is almost real enough to fool someone who isn’t her. “How was everything topside?”

She considers him, smeared with something she’s going to call dirt and not smelling like dirt at all. She wants to make sure he’s safe, but obviously he’s safe, and she can’t just ask him if he’s safe. But she thinks of what he did for Eliot, how they played it off as a joke, and briskly wipes a smear of something tacky off his cheek. “Clean,” she says over his quick inhale.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” says Eliot, catching up with them, offering Parker a hand down from the fence she’s sitting on like she’s ever needed help getting off a fence. “Just wait and see if you get any sympathy the next time you have to go through tunnels.”

“I like tunnels,” she says, leading them back to Nate, who will make Eliot go somewhere and get patched up and make both of them take showers so they don’t smell like sewer. “I don’t get why nobody likes tunnels!”

“Then next time you come with us,” says Hardison, in that joking-not-joking way he does.

“Sounds fun!” she says, joking-not-joking too, because it’s easy to echo Hardison, it’s easy to let him show her what will work, will let him understand what she means without crossing any lines none of them are ready to cross.

When she looks behind her, making sure they’re keeping up, they’re exchanging a look like they’re exasperated, and maybe they are, but like the joking is a mask over the fear, them making fun is a mask over liking her. She’s never had anybody like that before, where the not-liking was the mask. Hardison catches her eye. “Let me tell you all about Eliot and his fear of sewer crocodiles,” he offers, and Eliot starts objecting that he was just saying he could handle them if they were there, and Nate’s close enough to start in on a lecture too, and Parker smiles and takes a deep breath and keeps watching.

[lovecolibri]

Am I a loser for fearing that this will be like BT 1.0 in that it is dragged out and remains stale and chemistry-less and harmful to Buck's character (for being with a not good person and not caring about said person's bad deeds) and the twist will be that it doesn't end 😭 Don't hate me for being negative...I was not negative until today, seeing that gremlin in the promotions and Tim showing favoritism to anti-Buddies yet again on FB.

And it's so funny that all my concern stems from social media activity and nothing about what I'm seeing on the show itself. Because the show has shown he is a non-entity - giving him and Buck no development, HIM no development, no evolution, no appeal, since last season. Yet maybe the writing and producing IS just that bad now.

Sorry to be a bit of a pessimist. I just feel like the vibe shifted dramatically over the past day and I'm in my feelings, I guess.

First of all, you're not a loser! There is a long history of TV shows NOT following through on things for fans of a popular fandom ship, including this one, back ins season 4, leading to that godawful BT 1.0 mess in the first place!

There is a lot of reasons this gets compared to the OG BT, because the show seems to be giving them no development and he's so clearly WRONG for Buck and seems to enjoy talking down to him and watching him deflate a little each time, and also it makes Buck look kinda shitty for dating someone who purposefully hurt, and delighted in hurting people Buck loves. I have said multiple times I wasn't ever worried about tay kay as a LI in s4 because she called him "needy" in that nasty voice on the heels of the audience seeing how absolutely shit his parents were and where all those issues came from, so I was sure that was the narrative telling us she wasn't going to work out. Only to get slapped in the face with an entire fucking season of Buck looking miserable with her, which was never addressed, him trying to talk about their issues and the firefam lecturing HIM about HIS failings instead of ever being allowed to talk about how they felt about her given their past (you can't tell me back in s4 Athena would EVER willingly let that woman in her and Bobby's home, much less feed her), and then watch her nearly get Chim and Hen killed and STILL get a fucking "amicable" breakup of the "oh no one was really to blame, it just didn't work out" variety. So like. Yeah, sometimes the writing is just That Bad 🤷🏻‍♀️

What I will say about all of that though, is we now have information we didn't back in s4. Information like, we weren't seeing things and there WAS a set up planned, and discussed with Oliver (at least, likely Ryan too since the shooting was Like That and what the fuck other bi realization was Buck gonna have, or gay realization was Eddie gonna have after his breakup with Ana was Like That), but the network forced the changes. Tim fucked off to go smash other dolls together (and lost his mind a little bit over on LS, probably because he leveraged that shit into getting to do whatever he wanted, plus the whole RL effect), and the story got changed and, as Tim pointed out, it made the show markedly worse. I'm not putting all my faith and trust in a network, but I will say ABC knows what kind of accolades, awards, and hype this kind of story will bring them and that is something I DO trust.

8x01 might be fluke like the handful of watchable episodes in s5-6, but it truly felt like the Buck we know and love was back, the focus was on the core four and on the emergencies, there was *heart* in the emergency, we got dispatch properly involved, and even the Athena stuff took a turn for a more rescue-focused adventure than the Con-Air prison transport plane mishap I was expecting. The bees sounded ridiculous and like they could be one emergency, like freeway shark my beloved, or *maybe* hold a whole episode, but I was NOT expecting much for a disaster opening and was fully prepared for s5 levels of zoo animals promotion vs actual 3 episodes of creeper being creepy cop storyline. But they actually...kinda pulled it off?? It's no tsunami or earthquake by a LONG shot, and I'm still reserving judgment until the arc is over (I enjoyed the cruise ship disaster but it needed more core four on sight helping with rescues which make it drag a little being so separate from everything else), but it felt like a season 2 or 3 episode at heart!

All this to say, *EYE*, notorious salt gremlin and hater (because trying for low expectations is what works for me!), am feeling more hopeful about the show as a whole than I have in awhile. And I'm going to hold your hand so gently when I give this advice, you can take it or not (for some people, needing to know everything is what works for them, so you do you!), but do not listen to that middle-aged white man and what he does on facebook. Or anywhere. Do not listen to that man! He is a shit-stirrer, and he is a liar! They all are in interviews! Him and Oliver both said "hardly any time skip" and then they did the exact same 3 month time skip they have ALWAYS done between the spring season ending and the fall premier! He lies! He interacts with shit he probably doesn't even read, just promotes his show! He does not care about upsetting us because people shouting over each other about the show just reads to him, and the people above him to let him do things, as the show having enough impact to be talked about! I personally have good feelings because he likes to get his way and ABC gave him something in 4 episodes he'd been trying to do since s4. And they originally green-lit it being another character so it feels like there were plans for both and timing just got switched.

DO NOT LET THAT MAN STEAL YOUR JOY!

I'm not going to tell you that of course it's all going to work out and be perfect and everything we wanted, but I WILL say, we all saw how fucking miserable Oliver was in s5 and 6, how checked out and disengaged he was (he was SO CLOSE and they TOOK IT from him! Fuck FOX forever!), and we saw how he was/is in interviews with or about that man, vs how happy and excited he was/is when talking about Ryan/Eddie/Buddie right now, how much he's engaging and sharing, and WHAT he is sharing. We saw the shift from filming episodes 5-6 to the back half of s7 for both him and Ryan. It's very loud, and while some kinda similar vibes have come through before, we have knowledge now we didn't before about why we kept getting those vibes and then having them pulled back. We know WHO was standing in the way and it wasn't Tim and it sure as fuck wasn't Oliver or Ryan, and that doesn't appear to be an issue anymore. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I hope my rambling incoherence was helpful, Nonnie!

[madhattervanessa]

Hello, I was wondering if you could do a one shot of where how the Tf 141 would react to the y/n asking to try a new position and it ended up hurting them. Like causing cramps. And how would they help or what exactly would they do?(Yes this has happened to me) I was hoping that this would become like fluff/ comfort with a hint of NSFW. Sorry I am writing this while at work.

Hey ‘non! Thank you so much for the ask and don’t even worry about it, I got you. I hope your work day went okay :)

This has happened to me a few times, too, lmao, those cramps are fucking nasty.

I also wrote this down in one go and it's really fucking late, I'm slightly tipsy so- at least we'll be on a similar level of unhinged

Let’s get into it!

Cpt. John Price

REALLY loves when you give him new options for positions to twist you into

this man is a dom through and through. If you give him the go, I- 

but I also think he is prepared- he gets you warmed up before you guys start playing twister, he is getting older, okay?

So I think this is most likely to happen in the morning when you’re spooning and it turns into fucking from there; he wants to see his cock in the mirror at the end of the bed and lifts your leg, so he can “watch that greedy pussy swallow his cock”

It’s then, that the cramps hit- your hip muscles contract from front to back and you wince noticeably

“Fuck, what’s wrong-?”

“Cramp-Cramp-! Fuck!”

Cue immediate stop and questing fingers that prod while you whine about the pain

Fear not though because this man gets you up on your feet to walk while he sprints off to find whatever pain medication and heating pad he can find before even getting dressed

If it dies down? Great. Though you’ll have him check in more for a few weeks, careful to take it slow

If it doesn’t, prepare to be handled with a furrowed brow and the utmost care until John can figure out a physical therapist- even if it’s a poor rookie he strongarms into helping you on base.

he’ll probably feed you magnesium supplements for a few days, too

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley

Look- Simon is always more than happy to wait for cues from you

If you want a new position, you’ll have to either talk him into it or already twist yourself into a new position before he can even perceive what is happening because this man likes to stick to missionary where he can watch you soak his cock and look back up to see your cute face twist up as you cum

once established and proven, he’ll take up new positions, though. 

I feel like he is a big fan of putting a leg over his shoulder as he fucks you

I am lying, I am a big believer of this- it’s a gorgeous view, he can use it as leverage and paw at your tits or just watch them bounce prettily as he fucks you

However, having sex with this big hunk of a man means he’ll not only stretch you apart in that particular position, he also makes you cum hard

When your leg cramps eventually from the constant pressure and from holding that position for too long, he will chalk it up to you being fussy at first

but if you insist, he’ll stop and drop immediately to push his fingers into the sore spot

it will hurt- his grip is strong and he is insistent, despite your wriggling around

but it makes for a quick and effective solution: he is good at massaging the cramp away, soothing the pain with his hand.

Once it’s out of the way, he’ll keep his warm hand on it before continuing to fuck you into relaxation- a nap after getting fucked until you are limp is the best way to a quick recovery in his opinion

Otherwise you’ll probably get bothered with massage rollers or a massage gun

Sgt. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

hah, yeah, this happens to the two of you a lot-

look, I see Kyle and I see him having fun in the bedroom

he is DOWN to try new stuff, basically whenever wherever, baby

If you have sex with this man, you’re bound to get more flexible, that’s a fact for sure, I will not be taking any goddamn notes

I can see him ogling you while you do yoga or pilates and it escalating from there

especially if you shake your ass a little at him

Downward dog man, I’m telling you.

And how could he say no to you?

He’s eating you out until you tell him to stop making you wait and fuck you

and Kyle, good, loyal, absolutely whipped for his girl Kyle, does not hesitate to slide his cock in and “give you a good stretch”

“Deep breath, darling- fuck- yeah-”

but when your legs start to cramp and you yelp?

He jumps because he is scared he hurt you before he reacts.

He’ll help you up and get you moving before getting you some gatorade or something like it

Ushers you into a bath and rubs your back for you as you soak

Will definitely still get you off later and just insist you have to relax

Yoga sex will definitely be off the table for a while, despite the fun because Gaz is just too afraid he’ll hurt you again

Sgt. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

this nasty dog of a man-

I digress

there’s a book of things he wants to try out with you

so he is always delighted when you bring up something new to try out, his shy little birdie, he’ll tease you about being the horndog in the relationship

literally twists you into any crazy position you consent to (like the pretzel or whatever? looking at that shit gives me cramps) 

kamasutra books have nothing on the brain of this man

it doesn’t hurt that he… does his research.

anyways

if you let him do that shit to you? Oh the satisfaction on that man’s face

Dirty grin on his face the entire time that only falls when you cum or when he does- however, I feel like Soap gets sloppy when he is about to cum, sloppy, careless and definitely a little unhinged

so when your legs protests and he is in the throes of it, you have got to forgive him bc your pussy is sucking his soul out of his body

but even in a pussy-drunk state, as soon as he is back in his body when you whimper and start to cringe at the pain, he’ll start stretching your leg out 

he’ll use the length of his body to prop it up and stretch you out, going full on football physical therapist, despite his dick still softening inside of your pussy

he might get hard again, especially if he starts rubbing over the spot and you start whimpering and relaxing, letting him treat you well and relaxing into it

definitely hard again when you shoot him a satisfied, relaxed look at the immediate relief he provides for you

“We’ll have to stretch you out hen, just to be sure you don’t cramp up again, yeah?”

Trust, you will be stretched very unprofessionally- kinks and new positions are discovered that night

[set-phasers-to-whump]

a place to rest

prompt: sleep deprivation, isolation chamber, forced to stay awake, "leave the lights on"

whumpee: river cartwright

fandom: slough house/slow horses

heya welcome back to me hurting river :) this fic is based on a line from one of the books and idr if it's in the show as well but basically that river and spider went thru training together and were each other's only connection in there. yeah. i'm obsessed w that dynamic and wanted to play w it lol. hope you like!! (title from hungry heart by bruce springsteen)

He has been sitting on the floor of this room, which could perhaps generously be termed a cupboard, for god knows how long. Long enough to have gotten tired, for them to have given him two meals—if that slop could be called a meal, anyway. 

He’d tried to fall asleep, earlier. He’d known, of course, that they wouldn’t let him. Doesn’t take a genius to work that one out. But he’d given it a go, anyway, and been rewarded for his efforts with a loud banging on the door and an increase in the brightness of the already unpleasantly bright bulb hanging above him. 

His head hurts. He’s hungry. Two slices of hard bread and a bowl of lukewarm soup that is mostly water is hardly enough to keep you satiated, even when it’s been given to you twice. 

By the time they bring him the third meal—more of the same—his eyes are threatening to stay closed every time he blinks. But the light keeps getting brighter, it seems like, every time he’s on the verge of nodding off, and now loud music—not even anything good, just discordant drums and brass—is being piped through some unseen speaker at random intervals. 

He wants to go home. 

And he knows—he knows this is all just pretend. Except it’s not. Sure, he’s in no actual danger. If he gets really hurt, there’s a medical team. The people holding him here are helping him. Turning him into an effective agent. 

But the torture itself is very much real. 

By the time the fourth meal comes around, he isn’t quite sure what reality is anymore. The world is sort of fuzzy around the edges and he keeps hearing voices, people speaking to him, but he can’t understand what they’re saying and he’s too exhausted to ask them to speak up. 

He shuffles forward to take the tray that’s been pushed through the slot in the door (which locks immediately after the food is given to him, so he can’t even catch a glimpse of the outside world). His hands are shaking so much that he can’t eat the soup, not that he’ll be missing out on much. 

Sometime in the hazy period between the fourth meal and when the fifth would presumably be served, a miracle happens. 

The door opens. 

There’s a man standing there, in military uniform. Not British military. Not anything easily identifiable as belonging to another country, either. He gestures for River to get up. 

He’s not sure if he can. 

River eventually manages to use the wall to leverage himself to his feet. His vision swims. The other man reaches forwards and grabs him by the shoulders, drags him out into the hall, and then pushes him. 

“Go.”

It takes a long time for the word to make its way into River’s consciousness. By the time he realizes he’s free, the other man is long gone. 

He almost collapses to the floor right then and there. The lights are dimmer and there’s no loud noise, just the quiet buzz of activity elsewhere. 

But he’d better not. Maybe it’s not permitted to sleep here. Maybe they’ll punish him. Make him stay in that closet longer. 

Motivated half by the fear that someone is going to come along and drag him back into that hell, half by the absolutely overwhelming desire to lie down and pass out, River wanders through a maze of hallways, navigating on memories made murky by lack of sleep. At some point the realization occurs to him, dimly, that he’s shaking. 

Somehow he makes it outside of the terrible building where he’d been kept, then across a sprawling but decrepit lawn and to the barracks. 

The room he’s been sleeping in is fairly empty. There’s him, Spider, and four other guys, spaced out across eight bunk beds. He and Spider have claimed the bed closest to the door, and as River comes through that door, he’s hit with a wave of regret in regards to his choice of sleeping spot.

He’d taken the top bunk, some childhood desire drawing him there, but there’s no way in hell he’s making it up that ladder. Just seeing the beds has made his legs go weak, and he’s unsure of his ability to take another step.

Spider is sitting on his own bed, and River tries very hard to focus on him. He’s sort of curled into himself near his pillow, and there’s a black eye and a red, angry scrape down his cheek which hadn’t been there before. 

Spider looks up at him. His eyes widen slightly, and then he wordlessly gestures to the rest of the bed, a silent invitation. 

River lacks the energy to do anything but accept, collapsing down onto Spider’s mattress. Spider doesn’t do anything, just watches silently, so River simply curls himself up on the lower half of the bed, not so much as taking his shoes off first.

He’s asleep in seconds. 

--

He dreams discordantly but sleeps rather soundly. When he wakes up, still tired, it takes him a few moments to work out where he is. 

He’s in Spider’s bed. He vaguely recalls Spider having been here, when he’d arrived, exhausted and shaking and feeling like death. 

Spider is not here now. And River is tucked beneath the blankets—multiple, even though they’re only allowed one each. His head is on Spider’s pillow and his shoes are gone although he’s pretty sure he hadn’t had the strength to remove them before. 

A dim thought about all of this floats across River’s mind, hazy and uncertain and vaguely tender, but he’s too tired and disoriented to properly follow it.

He falls back asleep instead.

thanks for reading! i hope you liked it <3

[witchofthesouls]

I’m not sure if you’ve heard of this theory/trope but it’s one I’ve heard throughout my years in the fandom but it’s basically served in crumbs because that’s how rarely I’ve heard it.

The theory/trope is basically that Starscream is Megatron’s son, whether biological or adopted, and given how their canon relationship is like it’s an extremely fucked ‘father and son’ dynamic.

Depending on the continuity, Starscream both wants Megatron’s approval and for him to be gone, but no matter what continuity, Starscream knows that deep down he can never be Megatron or inspire the same loyalty and fear as he does. Basically acts the way almost every person who grew up with daddy issues acts.

Then in comes Megatron’s hybrid bitlet. Megatron doesn’t treat them the way he treats Starscream, his first child. Megatron is firm and strict with them but never lifts a hand to them and rarely raises his voice at them and doesn’t subjugate them to the same humiliation and abuse that he does with Starscream.

Starscream rarely sees the child (Megatron keeps his SIC far away from the apple of his eye and when he isn’t there to enforce it, Soundwave sure as hell does) but on the rare occasions that he has, he can see the how protective and territorial Megatron gets over them, but also how much he cares and loves them (in his own way, of course).

It very much a gives “-that means she was always capable of change, but I just wasn’t worth changing for” and “we may have the same parent but we had very different childhoods.”

Oh yeah, I've seen takes on it. It's been a while, though. It was slanted as a Megatron was a father-figure to a grieving prince (major political leverage) or direct spark-kin as an explanation why he never kills Starscream after multiple assassination attempts.

There are multiple ways to go about this scenario:

Treatment based on Megatron's future plans. Starscream is supposed to be his heir and needs that cruel edge to be the Decepticon leader, but his hybrid sibling is slotted for a perhaps different role? Fostering political ties via matrimony? An ambassador to be their voice on a galactic stage?

Treatment based on how they come into Megatron's hands. Think of it as cultural differences and age he stepped into the role of father. If he actually sparked an Elite Vosian noble, then it would be a mess. As in Megatron didn't even know about his son's existence and Starscream doesn't know his sire, only the shadow of his carrier getting sparked with a single sparklet (bad omen among the Vosians) and following his carrier on her assignments as a diplomat to other city-states. A teenage!Starscream of a high-caste will not get along with Megatron's everything. He's absolutely dismayed that his carrier would sigh fondly or sharply reprimand Starscream is "exactly like your sire!" No, he isn't! Meanwhile, hybrid sibling was born into Megatron's hands and doesn't know anything else but the ship.

Treatment based on biological quirks. I imagine that Seekerkin sparklings tend to be aggressive and prone to outbursts to their age mates because they're attempting to establish a hierarchy among them, and an overactive prey-drive still settling as they differientiate kin, strangers that are neutral, and unknown hostiles. It's the duty of overwatching adults to make sure the scraping doesn't get too out of hand and draw the boundaries of what is and isn't acceptable in play. Megatron is a damn tank/gun, and neither of them do that. So he thinks he had a wild, unruly child who was trying to savage the living daylights out of any playdate. Hybrid sib, on the other hand, has a shorter lifespan running against them. Plus, are they starting off as a human or a newspark? Do they switch in-between? Are they a tiny newborn that Megs need to mass displace down to even let them hold his pinky finger?

Difference based on health. Sibling isn't well. Megatron keeps them far away from everyone else due to their fragility. Megatron allows himself to be softer because there is no guarantee they will reach adulthood, let alone lead any part of the forces.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forced Love V

John Wick x Reader

Summary: Arranged marriages aren't uncommon in the crime world but John Wick never expected to be forced into one with is boss' daughter.

Chapter Summary: John finishes what his brother-in-law started

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N, canon level violence (if it's in the movie it's here), medical stuff

Word Count: 3.7K

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When John finally woke, he was tied up in some sort of abandoned building. Although, the scaffolding and lights indicated that maybe it was just under construction. Directly in front of him was an empty chair but flanking that was his wife, bound to another chair with tape covering he mouth. She let out a soft cry that sounded like his name upon seeing him wake. She was breathing heavily and her voice was raw. The tear tracks that stained her face did nothing to assure him that Viggo hadn’t hurt his own daughter.

“Well John,” Viggo’s voice cut through her soft sobs as he came into view. “They sure as fuck broke the mold with you,” he said, sitting down. Two guards followed him, but stopped next to Y/N’s chair. And John could see the two guards on either side of him through his peripheral vision. Viggo laughed as he continued. “You always had a certain… audacity about you, you know. I thought it’d make you a good husband to my daughter and I feared she had softened you too much when you asked to retire. But I can say you’re still very much the John Wick of old.”

“Am I?” he pressed daringly.

Viggo leaned forward as he spoke. “People don’t change. You know that. Times, they do.” He sighed before going to the thing burning in his chest. “Do you know what was in that vault? Artwork, cash, not without it’s worth. But the leverage I had over this city. Evidence, blackmail, audio, photos,” he listed. “It was fucking priceless!” he cursed, standing up in rage. “Priceless!”

“Yeah, I kind of enjoyed that,” John said softly.

Viggo let out a scathing laugh. “Yeah, I know you did.” His laugh became humorous as he got closer to John, sending a punch to his face.

Y/N let out a muffled scream in protest.

Viggo turned his scathing tongue on her now. “Shut up you brat!” he screamed. “I never should have paired you two up. You used to be so obedient, always so eager to please me. But then you two got married,” he said in disgust. “And you corrupted each other.” He turned back to John. “And then you got out by lying to yourself. Telling yourself that the past held no sway over the future. But in the end, a lot of us are rewarded for our misdeeds, which is why I’m going to take your wife.” John lunged at Viggo but his restraints and the guards held fast. “Because you decided to… unleash yourself upon me. I gifted her to you, I have every right to take her back. Fuck, I should’ve taken her back when you asked for retirement but I let you keep her. As a gesture. But then you decided to take it upon yourself to meddle in family matters.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air and echo in John’s brain. “This life follows you. It clings to you, infecting everyone close to you. We are cursed, you and I.”

“On that, we agree,” John said, cursing himself for falling in love.

Viggo sat back, shock written on his face. “Finally, common ground,” he chuckled.

“I have my grievances with you,” John began, “but my real focus is your son. Step aside and give him to me.”

“John Wick,” Viggo mused in disbelief. “Baba Yaga,” he mocked the name he was once so proud to threaten with. He stood up, signaling to his men to get ready to leave. “It was just a spat between siblings.”

“Your son tried to kill my wife!” he yelled. “When we got married you made me promise to protect her. I am because you failed! You led her unstable brother to believe that you would choose her over him and then she almost died for your mistake! And then you protected your son over her. I was just doing what you fucking asked. People keep asking if I’m back. And up until now I haven’t really had an answer. But now? Yeah, I’m thinking I’m back! So you can either hand over your son,” Viggo muttered an order in Russian before turning to leave, “…or you can die screaming alongside him!” John screamed as he stood. The guards grabbed him once again, back into his chair as he watched his wife being carried out behind her traitor father. He continued struggling as they wrapped a bag around his face, trying to suffocate him.

Just as the black started to close in on his vision, he heard the sound of a bullet whizzing. The man to his right went down, blood spattering onto the bag covering his face. The other guard immediately let go, drawing his weapon to find the threat. Marcus. But John didn’t have time to consider his old friend. He wasted no time pulling out of the chair, hands still bound and bag still on his head, body slamming the other man to the ground with so much rage, he managed to make him drop his gun. Baba Yaga pulled his zip-tied hands to the front of his body, tearing off the bag before running at the scrambling mercenary with a yell. Using his bound hands, he got the gun away from him. They began to struggle, John just needed to get his bound arms around the man’s neck. But he had the same idea and two autonomous hands allowing him to pin John to the ground easier, strangling him as he struggled to break from the man’s grasp. He managed to turn his head enough so the man’s thumb was in his mouth, biting down hard. It made the guard loose focus enough that John was able to regain the advantage. He got his zip-tied hands around the mans throat, pulling with all his might until he choked the guard out and was then able to snap his neck. Without even taking a second to catch his breath, John was using a knife from another guard to cut the zip-ties. Pocketing the knife, he ran towards the exit, hoping to catch Viggo before he left. He’d be damned if he let his wife be taken from him right under his nose like that.

On the way out, he spotted a high caliber rifle that was like shooting a mini bazooka. Grabbing it, he burst out the door just in time to see the SUV taking off. Seeing as his gunfire wouldn’t do much good from the rear, he found a route through the alleys that would let him cut them off. He ran through alleyways until he finally reached the main street. He stood in the middle of the street, taking aim at the speeding car. The fact that he couldn’t see his wife in the car gave him a little bit of peace as bullets pelted the SUV, making the driver swerve into a parked car, halting the vehicle.

John immediately had the gun pointed at Viggo. “Cool it, cool it, cool it,” he begged, his hands raised.

“Where is she?” he demanded, shooting a warning shot to the side.

“She’s in the car!” Viggo answered quickly. He reached back, only to open the door. The door flung open on account of the tilted vehicle and the fact that a person had been flung into it. Viggo’s daughter was spilled out onto the ground in a less than graceful manner on account of her bound arms and legs.

“Where’s Iosef?” John demanded next, seeing no bleeding from his wife.

“I have your word that if I tell you where he is, you’ll let me walk away?” he bargained.

“Pull the contract,” John demanded.

“Done,” Viggo agreed, seeing as he had no allies around him. “He’s kept in a safe house in Brooklyn,” Viggo answered. “434 Wallace Place. They know you’re coming.”

“Of course,” John stated, finally lowering his gun. “But it won’t matter.” He rounded Viggo, not caring where he ran off to.

He kneeled down next to his wife, pulling out the knife to cut her own zip-ties before carefully pulling off the tape on her mouth. She let out a hollow sob as she reached up to grab him, arms wrapped around his neck. He wrapped his free arm around her torso, pulling her into him and burring his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. They savored the moment as long as they could until John had to let go. He couldn’t let Viggo warn Iosef and give him the opportunity to move. “Hey,” he began softly. “I’m gonna need you to take a cab to the Continental. Don’t talk to anyone, just head up to the room and wait for me there. I have to go deal with your brother. Then we can go home,” he promised her.

She nodded in understanding, too shaken up to really form word. He helped her stand, pressing some money into her hand for the cab. Before he could take off, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. As she moved to break it, he followed, letting the kiss linger for another moment. “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he said before taking off towards Brooklyn.

~

Once again, Y/N found herself pacing the hotel room she had come to loathe. Although she had to commend the cleaners. You would never be able to tell that two high trained assassins had just had a fight in here the night prior. It was only when her husband opened the door that she really breathed for the first time since the attack. It was finally over. They could finally go home and put this behind them so they could continue to live the lives they had built for themselves.

John said nothing, just pulled his wife into his chest and held her tight. “It’s over,” he promised her.

“I love you so much,” she professed in response, pressing soft kisses to the side of his face. He sighed in content, having missed soft moments like this ever since their world had shattered.

“I love you too. C’mon, lets go home.”

They had never packed their bags so quickly, eager to get out of the city. Once they reached the lobby, they went to the front desk to check out. “Thank you,” John said, as he slid the key across the desk.

“Our pleasure, sir,” Charon thanked, placing a set of keys on the desk. John stared at them quizzically. “A parting gift. From management,” he explained. “Compensation for last night’s unfortunate… incident.”

John thanked the man as he took the keys. The pair stepped outside, finding a brand new Dodge Charger sitting out front. John gave the slightest smile upon seeing the new car. He turned to his wife, seeing a small smile creep onto her face as well. They stepped down towards the car, John opening the passenger door for her before rounding the car to the driver’s side. He got in, taking in the car before putting it in drive. Before taking off though, he snaked his hand over to the passenger side, grasping his wife’s hand. “We just have one stop to make before we go home.”

The pair stood looking over the water, right next to the Manhattan bridge. “So what are we waiting for?”

“That would be me,” Marcus’ voice answered her. “Hi Y/N, I don’t think we’ve formally met,” the man smiled, extending her hand. She took it, shaking it as she sent a glance to her husband. *Who was this man? “*I’m the one whose been saving your husband’s ass.”

“I appreciate it,” John chuckled.

“Of course,” Marcus dismissed. “You look terrible,” he remarked, earning a laugh from Y/N.

John sent a teasing glance to his wife. “No, I look retired,” he corrected.

“Retired? You really believe that?” John didn’t answer. “You made a new life. You’ll find your way back to it. It’s time to go home,” he said, slightly ominously. “It was nice to finally meet you,” he bid, looking at his friend’s wife.

“Likewise,” she returned as he walked away. She turned back towards the river, the same as her husband. “You ready?” she asked, extending her hand.

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking it.

~

They were enjoying a peaceful drive home in the new car when John got a call. With a quick check to caller ID, he found Marcus’ name. “This is John,” he answered.

The way John immediately stiffened as Viggo’s voice came over the phone didn’t escape his wife’s notice. She had no idea what was said, but based on her husband’s body language, she could guess who was on the other end. “I appreciate you granting my son a swift death.”

“It was more than he deserved,” John replied, remembering how Iosef had tried to just beat a woman to death.

“And yet you granted him mercy. Unlike what I’m going to do to Marcus. He betrayed me.”

John immediately threw down the phone, spinning the car around so fast it almost went into a tailspin. “John what the fuck!”

“Viggo has Marcus,” he explained, pressing the car to it’s top speed as he raced back into the city. “He couldn’t kill me and he couldn’t kill you. So he’s killing Marcus.”

Her heart sunk, “Oh god,” she whispered. She knew her father did terrible things but she hadn’t really considered them when she wasn’t on the receiving end. John continued speeding through the city as she came to terms with how complicit she had been with others suffering.

When they finally pulled up to her father’s brownstone, John was immediately climbing out of the car. “Stay here,” he said gruffly. She didn’t say anything as she watched her husband go in to grieve the closest thing he had to a best friend. After a few moments John was running back to the car. Before she could assume the worst, he was hopping in and taking off. “Your father is fleeing New York,” he explained. “He practically left you to die and now he’s killed Marcus. He’s not leaving,” he swore.

Not a word was said as they raced towards the only property that Viggo owned that housed a helipad. An old loading dock that had been long forgotten. As they closed in on the two SUVs driving in the same direction, John pressed the car further. “Hold on!” he warned as he started side swiping the SUV until it fell down into one of the pits that used to be used to load shipping containers.

John didn’t even celebrate his victory or stop to consider that Viggo may have been in that car. He just kept driving, going after the remaining SUV. There was no shot he’d let Viggo have any chance of getting away. He kept knocking into the side of the SUV until he pulled back enough to send it into a tailspin, straight into a bollard. The SUV stopped suddenly but John was able to brake before backing up. “Get down!” he yelled, forcing his wife’s head down as he saw Viggo’s men get out of the SUV with guns.

They shot at the Charger, shattering the back windshield but that didn’t dissuade The Boogeyman in the slightest. He continued backing up until he hit the gunman who went rolling over the car. As he went, John shot up into the ceiling, sending bullets into the man as he rolled off the car. John then shot three more men out of the window, in the process leaning over to his wife’s seat to recline it all the way back. “Lay down flat,” he told her. Given that he was the world’s deadliest assassin, she didn’t question his judgement in that moment.

As Avi fell out of the car and went running, John chased after him, cutting him off. They exchanged a few bullets before John slammed the passenger side of the car into him. It hit him with so much force he broke the window, eliciting a scared shout from the woman laying in the passenger seat, but he quickly slumped to the ground. But before John could finish him off, an incredible force came from his side.

Viggo drove his SUV straight into the Charger, not caring about his daughter or right hand man. He continued driving, gas pedal pressed to the ground as he pushed the car towards the pit. Realizing what was happening, Y/N spoke up. “Out the back windshield! Out the back windshield!” she cried as she crawled backwards. Fortunately John knew what she meant because he also released his seat, crawling out with her and hitting the ground before the car went over the edge.

“Are you okay?” he asked his wife as the rain poured down on them.

“Yeah,” she choked out, the fall knocking the wind out of her. “He’s over there,” she coughed, spying her father heading towards the helicopter. “Go. I’m fine.” She too wanted revenge for all the bullshit he put her husband through.

John took off running towards his father-in-law as she stayed to catch her breath. Climbing into the mostly intact SUV, she clambered around for a gun. She searched frustratedly. There was no way there weren’t at least twenty hidden weapons in a mob boss’ car. She rejoiced as she found one taped under the passenger seat, climbing out of the car just in time to see both John and her father take a seat. Both of them exhausted and heavily injured. She could see them talking but she didn’t give a fuck whatever deal they were making. Her father had only done one good thing for her and that was arrange her marriage to John. And he still tried to use that gift against her until he couldn’t and he decided to kill him. So she took aim, steadying herself before pulling the trigger. Headshot. And this time, she didn’t feel bad about it.

“John!” she called, running over to him. She was terrified he’d succumb to his wounds right there. She stopped running for a brief moment when he stood, so relieved to see him up. She continued sprinting towards him, meeting him gently. She didn’t want to hurt him more but he grasped her wrist, pulling her into him. “You’re okay,” she assured him. “We’re gonna be okay. C’mon,” she said, throwing his arm around his shoulder in order to help him back to the car. Based on the amount of weight he placed on her, he really needed it. She helped him into the passenger side of the beat up SUV. Fortunately the passenger side door was still intact. “We’re going to the hospital,” she told him, getting into the driver’s seat.

“No,” he immediately protested.

“John! You’re hurt.”

“There’s a veterinary hospital just a few blocks south. No one is there at night. We can use their medical supplies.”

“John…” she protested reluctantly, terrified for her husband but heading south anyways.

“I used to go there if I got injured before I retired. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about,” he tried to reassure.

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly.

She followed John’s directions until they reached what looked like an abandoned building. The only indication that it was even somewhat in use was the sound of all the dogs barking. John broke through the back door’s window, reaching down to open the door, letting himself in. They went in and Y/N was immediately pushing John to lean against the stainless steel table in the middle of the room. “What do you need?” she asked, going to the medical supplies.

“Gauze, suture kit or staple gun, and something to clean the wound,” he answered, already crouching in from of a pitbull’s cage.

She grabbed everything he needed, going over to him. “Lean back,” she directed him. She kneeled on the ground next to him as she worked as fast as possible. “I still think you should go to the hospital,” she said disapprovingly.

“I’d been through worse before I met you,” he confessed.

“I don’t know how it gets worse than this,” she said, stitching up every major wound she found.

“This dog is gonna be euthanized,” he said, reading the file on the dogs cage. His wife paused only long enough to look at the dog. He pawed at the cage upon meeting her gaze, his big eyes immediately melting her heart.

“We can take him with us when we’re done. But you have to promise me you’ll let me call the doctor to check you out as soon as we’re home.”

“I will,” he swore.

“Was this all an elaborate scheme to make me let you get a dog?” she pressed, only mildly jokingly.

“That was part of it,” John returned the joke.

A small smile crept onto her face as she paused her work once again to look at her husband. “I love you. So much. Please don’t do anything dangerous ever again.”

“I’ll try,” he smiled. “I love you too. I can’t move so you’re gonna have to come here.” She giggled slightly, scooching over to him. Once she got close enough, John grabbed her shirt, bringing her down to meet his lips as he gave her a sweet kiss. Just like on their wedding day except now they weren’t strangers. They had been through more together than they had thought a couple could go through. “I love you,” he repeated, only parting their lips enough to say that.

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