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clanwarrior-tumbly · 11 months ago

Note

May I request Catnap who basically adopted a child!reader who is anyways sleepy and lazy. and has a case of not remembering a lot of things, like dementia

Like through the hour of joy...After all the Toys killed the workers. Catnap finds the reader, who is sleeping then wakes up and the reader forgets their own parents(The readers parents were cold scientists that worked at Poppy Playtime and never cared about them, then got killed through the hour of joy)

Sooooooo...Catnap just kinda takes care of the reader and has a slight soft spot for them. And the reader THINKS that Catnap is their parent and anyways clings to him

During the Hour of Joy, Catnap remained on the prowl for any potential survivors of the massacre within Playcare, flinging one man's body into the stairs and cutting his cries for mercy short.

All was quiet, save for the faint screams of the other workers/visitors in other part of the facility who were being mauled to death.

But he let the rest of the toys do their work.

He felt cleansed. The Prototype willed this rebellion. Willed him to finally kill his tormentors.

The "hour" went on for so much longer--considering that he utilized his red smoke to make the fleeing humans hallucinate and freak out at things that didn't exist (some even attacking each other).

Once it was all done, Catnap went back into Home Sweet Home to discover a child who (somehow) slept through the slaughter.

That was you, one of the orphans who was in the program for a long, long time.

You were deemed "ineligible" for experimentation after getting the lowest scores on all three tests at the Game Station.

That's because you struggled with memory, socialization, and endurance. You tend to forget a lot of things (ie faces) and spent most of your days sleeping instead of playing or learning....and no counselor has been able to figure out why.

Your parents--who were scientists at Playtime Co. that preferred studying you over nurturing you--chalked it up to over-exposure to the red smoke (which hasn't been proven true, but they needed to put something down on paper).

Regardless, they've kept their distance from you and slated you for adoption, thinking you'll be picked up by a different parent eventually.

Unfortunately for them...Catnap knows that they're using the orphanage as an "excuse" to get rid of you and gives them a brutal demise.

They had some nerve crying out for you and begging him to spare your life.

After winding down from his bloodlust, he discovers you sound asleep on one of the bunk beds inside HSH, apparently not hearing a single thing.

Then you wake up and see this giant emaciated purple cat standing over you, claws and mouth stained in fresh human blood...

Yet you don't scream or look afraid, nor do you ask where your parents are.

Instead you look at him and apologize for oversleeping, acting as though he was your parent.

It confuses him, so he brings their corpses to you (like a cat gifting their owner a dead bird), thinking you'd understand and be horrified..

But you don't recognize them at all. You don't remember their neglect and the trauma it gave you.

All you remember was Catnap.

Ultimately, he spares you--but NOT bc your parents feebly begged him to when they never gave a single damn about you--and does his best to keep you safe given the circumstances.

He treats you like his kit more or less, making sure you ate and letting you climb on his back for rides (and sometimes he'll hold you in his paws while walking upright).

Any Smiling Critter caught threatening you will be devoured by him (or added to his shrine), so they know not to touch you.

He also forbids Dogday from ever speaking to you, knowing he'll try to drill thoughts of escape and distrust of Catnap into your head.

If he has to go outside Playcare, he'll fight tooth and nail to fend off Huggy and whoever else might think he's parading around a tasty treat.

The Prototype is well-aware of your connection to his "devotee", but doesn't mind it .

Because he knows Theodore is still somewhere in there, trying his best to protect a fellow orphan--one who could've been made into a monster just like him.

#yeah we are so back with ppt requests-#clanask #poppy playtime x reader #ppt x reader #catnap #ppt catnap #child reader #headcanons #platonic

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ellecdc · 2 months ago

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pt remus and medic reader becoming the mum and dad of the hockey team

YES

PT!Remus Lupin x team medic!reader who don't have favourites [681 words]

CW: hockey, NHL players being large sulky babies, PT + medic being tired af of them all (affectionately)

“Whoa whoa whoa, where the fuck do you think you’re going, Fenzy?” You demanded as you stepped into Benjy Fenwick’s way, causing a near domino-esque collision as the guys behind him were forced to come to a stop in their trek down the shoot towards the ice.

“Uhm…practice?” Fenwick answered in the form of a question, and Sirius craned his neck to see what the hold up was to see your brows pinch in disbelief.

“Fat fuckin’ chance; go sit down.”

“But doc-”

“Fenwick, you have a concussion, I said you were benched.” You pressed as you stepped aside, dragging Fenwick with you by the fabric of his practice jersey to let some of the guys carry on even though he completely towered over you in his skates.

“I thought that meant for games!” Fenwick whined.

“It’ll mean indefinitely if you don’t go get your kit off.” You threatened severely, and Fenwick let out a theatrical groan before he turned and muttered profanities under his breath as he stormed back towards the locker room.

“If you’re playing bad doc today, does that mean Lupin’s playing good doc?” Sirius quipped as he made his way toward you, only to hear Remus - already out on the bench overlooking the players warming up - shouting at Viktor Krum.

“I can see you tensing from here, Krum! So I’m gonna ask again, and I want the fucking truth: is that hip still bothering you!?”

“Is only sore when go down, Loops!” Krum called back.

“Well what good is a goalie going down if he can’t get back up again, Krum?”

You let out a sigh as you walked out of the shoot with Sirius to find Remus leaning against the boards like he was about ready to hop them himself as he shouted across the rink, and James who was standing on the ice watching the exchange with a look of morbid fascination.

“They’re gonna be the death of me, L/N, the death of me.” Remus muttered in disbelief as he kept his gaze locked on his problematic goalie.

“Well I just caught Fenz trying to sneak onto the ice.” You grumbled back as you stepped up onto the bench, Remus finally breaking his gaze to look at you incredulously.

“I thought you said he had a concussion?”

“He does have a concussion.”

“That son of a bitch!” Remus nearly shrilled, earning him an almost smile from you.

“Kids these days, am I right?” James offered from his place on the ice, leaning heavily against one skate as he rested both gloves on the top of his stick, and his chin on his gloves.

“That’s why we’re mom and dad’s favourite, Potts.” Sirius added with a wink as he skated by and tapped his stick to James’ ass.

“You do those stretches I asked of you, Black, then we’ll talk about favourites, yeah?” Remus called out to him, causing Sirius to let out a nervous squeak as he took off quickly down the ice.

A couple of drills later, James came and sat heavily on the bench in front of you, taking a few deep breaths and squirting gatorade into his mouth before turning to look at you. “Who is your favourite, doc?”

“I don’t have favourites, Potter.” You offered simply as you continued watching the players on the ice.

“Please.” Sirius argued as he climbed over the boards, nearly spilling onto the bench beside James. “Every mother has favourites.”

“Not when she’s parenting a bunch of sods.” You grumbled, causing everyone on the bench to let out varying sounds of protest.

“That’s rude, mom. You’re rude.” James lamented, earning him a swat up the back of the helmet from Remus.

“Don’t speak to your mother that way.” Remus scolded earnestly; his lips quirking only when he heard your snort of laughter from behind him.

“I hate when they gang up on us like this.” Sirius murmured to James.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Cling-wrapping their office later?”

James held out his fist as he nodded at his friend and teammate. “Cling-wrapping their office later.”

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luvgumii · 11 months ago

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delinquent!toji

tw: slight corruption, mention of bruises from a fight, cherry-popping, rough sex, slight degrading

you had met toji on campus, so late that the only source of light was the moon.

you were heading towards your dorm after attempting to pull an all-nighter studying but failing as you had gotten too tired. that was when you saw him. hunched over the water fountain, rinsing blood out of his mouth as he poked slightly at bruises that were starting to swell. instead of using your logic, you had run over to the stranger and asked if he was okay, to which he just smirked and brushed off your questions.

he couldn't say that he wasn't slightly confused when you insisted on cleaning his bruises, going on about infections and other stuff, but all of that went in one ear and out the other when all he could focus on was that pretty face of yours. he was surprised when he let you drag him to your dorm, fumbling about for your first aid kit whilst he stared at you wondering why he hadn't gotten up and left. you didn't seem like the kind of girl who would do a one night stand, so why was he still here?

his eyes never left your face when you started cleaning the bruises, drifting his gaze from your eyes to your lips just to watch you squirm underneath his gaze. even going as far as to mutter something that wasn't exactly the most appropriate, just to watch that cute flustered expression spread across your face.

you froze up completely when he had somehow had the balls to ask you, 'do you fuck?' with the most serious expression on his face, waiting patiently for your answer. you didn't expect his lips to be on yours only a second after you had muttered yes (that was lie, you definitely don't fuck).

you don't tell him you're a virgin until he's got you bent into a mean arch with your face pressed into the pillows and your ass up in the air, to which he just laughs.

"yeah, could tell by the way you were drippin' all over the fuckin' sheets. dirty girl."

you can only whimper in response at he sinks his girthy length into you, the fat tip prodding at your cervix.

your eyes have rolled back, and there's drool seeping out the corner of your lips as you wore a fucked out expression. if you had expected him to go easy on you, you were wrong. his hands gripped the fat of thighs as he pushes them into the mattress as his cock drills in and out of your sopping core. you babble incoherently, only sounds of 's'good', and 't-too much' could be heard.

you came for the nth times that night as he finally spills his hot load into you, painting your walls white as he pants above you, a cocky smirk on his face.

"took that pretty well for a virgin, don't ya think?"

dividers by cafekitsune

#jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jjk toji

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p0orbaby · 4 months ago

Text

As We Plunge into the Ocean

summary: snapshots of your pregnancy journey with leah by your side

warnings: pregnancy and its potential symptoms, duh !

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.8k

You have to hand it to Leah, she's really leaned into this whole pregnancy thing. Not that you’re surprised. She’s always been a bit of a control freak. Actually, no, she’s a lot of a control freak. But now, it’s like she’s running drills for motherhood, and you’re the center of her training program.

Month 2: The Overprotective Phase Begins

“You’re glowing,” she tells you one morning. It’s sweet until you deduce she’s actually staring at the sweat on your upper lip. You’re clammy, nauseous, and you smell like day-old toast, but sure, you’re glowing.

Leah’s taken to hovering. She’s always been protective, but now, it’s like you’re made of glass, or maybe like you’re the last good avocado in Waitrose—precious and prone to bruising. She watches you closely, eyes narrowed, as if you might spontaneously combust into a pile of hormones and ash at any moment.

“You’re going to be late for training,” you remind her, trying to shoo her out the door with your tea bag as if you’re some sort of British Gandalf.

She glances at her watch, sighs, and then gives you that look. The one that says, I’m going to worry about you while I’m gone, so don’t do anything stupid like trip over air or suddenly decide to juggle knives.

“Don’t lift anything heavy,” she warns, pulling on her jacket, but making no move toward the door. “Or stand on anything taller than a pancake”

Close enough.

“Okay, Mum,” you say, deadpan. You’re both amused and slightly exasperated because Leah’s version of protective involves a lot of hovering and unnecessary life advice.

She kisses you on the forehead before leaving, like she’s blessing you for the day ahead. Or maybe she thinks you’ll forget how to breathe without her around. Either way, it’s oddly comforting.

When she finally leaves, you flop on the sofa, determined to enjoy the fleeting freedom before she comes home and starts fluffing your pillows like you’re an elderly Victorian woman with consumption.

Month 4: The Hormone-Palooza

Leah walks in from training one afternoon to find you sitting on the kitchen floor, crying over an empty jar of pickled onions. To be fair, they were really good onions. You’d eaten the last one two hours ago, and now the world feels like a cruel, onion-less void.

“What happened?” Leah asks, dropping her kit bag and rushing over like there’s been a national emergency.

“The pickled onions,” you sob, pointing dramatically at the empty jar as if it’s committed some unspeakable crime.

She stares at the jar, then at you, and you can see the mental maths she’s doing to figure out if this is worth her calling 999. But then she just nods, like she’s made peace with your hormonal breakdowns.

“I’ll get more tomorrow,” she says, like she’s promising to fetch water from a well three villages over.

You look up at her, eyes wide and wet. “Really?”

She nods. “Really. And I’ll get the sliced red ones this time”

You sniff, feeling vaguely stupid but mostly just grateful. “You’re the best”

“I know,” she says, deadpan, and helps you off the floor like you’re a drunk at a party who just tried to wrestle your reflection in the mirror.

But Leah doesn’t make fun of you for your hormone-fueled tears. She’s too busy making sure you’re okay, which is annoying and endearing in equal measure.

Month 6: The Nesting Madness

You wake up one morning to the sound of power tools. In your half-asleep state, you briefly consider the possibility that Leah’s decided to open a B&Q in your living room.

When you manage to roll out of bed, because rolling is now the only way you can get up, you find Leah assembling a cot in the nursery. She’s wearing a headlamp like she’s about to go spelunking. Her tongue is sticking out in concentration, and there’s a distinct air of “I watched this on YouTube once, so I’m basically an expert” about her.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” you ask, leaning against the doorway, trying not to laugh.

She pauses, mid-screw, and gives you a look. “I’m following the instructions,” she says defensively, even though the manual is open to a page that looks more like IKEA hieroglyphics than anything else.

You decide not to mention that the cot is currently upside down. Instead, you settle in to watch Leah’s one-woman DIY show. It’s honestly better than whatever’s on terrestrial right now.

After a good twenty minutes, she steps back, admiring her work. You both stare at the crib, which is somehow missing two legs but is otherwise a valiant effort.

“It’s... something,” you say diplomatically.

Leah sighs, rubbing her temples. “I’ll call my dad”

You nod. “Good idea. He’s got that handyman vibe”

She gives you a mock glare. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t help”

“I’m in charge of moral support,” you reply, patting your stomach. “And the baby’s supervising”

“Lazy,” she mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips.

Month 8: The Belly and the Beast

By this point, your belly is so big that it has its own gravitational pull. Leah has taken to treating it like it’s a small planet she needs to orbit. You’re the sun, and she’s some overzealous moon that won’t give you any space.

“Do you need anything?” she asks for the fiftieth time that day, hovering like a helicopter parent who’s misplaced their child in a crowd.

“No,” you reply, staring at the TV, which you can barely see over your stomach.

“How about water? I could get you water. Or juice. Or something with electrolytes. Do you want electrolytes?” Leah’s pacing now, clearly itching to do something.

You eye her, bemused. “I’m fine, Leah”

“Are you sure? I could fluff your pillow, or I could—”

“Leah,” you interrupt, trying to keep a straight face, “the baby and I are okay. You don’t need to, like, feng shui the living room or whatever”

She stops pacing, looking slightly sheepish. “I’m just... I don’t know what to do with myself”

You reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to sit next to you. “You’re doing great,” you tell her, squeezing her hand. “Now, just relax. Let’s watch something. Maybe something without pregnant women, though. I can’t deal with seeing anyone else going through this”

Leah laughs, finally settling in next to you. “Deal”

Five minutes into the show, she’s already got a hand on your belly, her protective instincts kicking in even during a Netflix binge. You roll your eyes fondly but let her be. At least she’s not trying to rearrange the furniture again.

Month 9: The Home Stretch (Or, The Last Nerve)

Leah is a bundle of nerves, more wound up than a cat near a cucumber. It’s almost cute, except when she insists on triple-checking the hospital bag, which she’s already checked twice in the last hour.

“Leah, seriously, if you add one more onesie to that bag, it’s going to explode”

“I just want to make sure we have everything,” she mutters, rummaging through the bag as if it’s one of those cursed Hermione purses from Harry Potter.

“We have everything. And then some,” you assure her, eyeing the ludicrous pile of baby supplies that could probably last through an apocalypse.

She finally zips up the bag and sits down next to you. For a moment, there’s silence, and you think maybe, just maybe, she’s finally going to relax. But no. She starts tapping her foot, glancing at you every few seconds.

“Do you think—”

“No,” you cut her off, knowing exactly where this is going.

“But—”

“Leah,” you say firmly, “I love you, but if you ask me if I think the baby’s coming today one more time, I might actually lose it”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, looking like she’s physically restraining herself from speaking.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, sighing. “I’m just... I’m excited and nervous and I feel like I’m waiting for a bomb to go off, but the bomb is cute and we’re going to love it and—”

“Leah,” you interrupt again, “you’re doing amazing. But you need to chill, or the baby’s going to think it’s coming out to meet a drill sergeant”

She cracks a smile at that. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to relax”

She doesn’t. But she does stop asking you if you’re in labor every fifteen minutes, so you’ll take that as a win.

The Grand Finale: The Delivery Room Circus

The day finally arrives. Naturally, it’s at three in the morning because why would your body ever do anything convenient? You wake Leah up by shaking her arm like you’re waking a teenager for school.

“Leah,” you say, trying to stay calm even though your insides feel like they’re being twisted into balloon animals. “It’s time”

She’s up in an instant, wide awake like she’s just heard the starting whistle at the World Cup final. She starts pacing, half-dressed, muttering about the hospital bag.

“We need to go, we need to—oh my god, where are the keys? Do we have the car seat? Should we call an ambulance? No, wait, we’re not calling an ambulance, that’s for emergencies, this is an emergency, but not that kind of emergency—”

You grab her shoulders, trying to steady her. “Leah, breathe. We’ve got time. But we do need to go”

She takes a deep breath, nodding like she’s trying to calm down a very excitable puppy. Then she’s off, running around the house like it’s an obstacle course, grabbing everything and nothing at once. You watch her in bemusement, one hand on your belly, wondering if you should tell her that she’s just thrown her shoe into the fridge.

When she finally gets it together, the drive to the hospital is an adventure in itself. Leah’s driving like she’s on her way to rob a bank, weaving through traffic and swearing under her breath at every red light.

“Leah, the baby’s not going to fall out if we don’t get there in ten minutes,” you say, trying to keep a straight face as she mutters something about the stupidly long red lights.

Finally, you make it to the hospital, where Leah practically drags you to the entrance like a deflated balloon on a string. Once inside, she’s all business, directing the nurses like she’s running a tactical operation.

The actual labour is a blur—hours of pain, and sweat, and Leah alternating between holding your hand and looking like she might faint. But she doesn’t faint. She stays with you the whole time, even when you scream at her that she’s never allowed to touch you again.

When the baby finally arrives, Leah’s expression is one of awe, relief, and sheer, overwhelming love. You’re both exhausted, but when you see her holding your baby, all of her earlier madness makes sense.

She was never just overprotective or anxious. She was just ready—ready to love, ready to care, and maybe, just maybe, ready to stop checking that bloody hospital bag.

Maybe.

Probably not.

But you love her anyway.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #engwnt #engwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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chxrrysangel · 5 months ago

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Thinking really hard about Mr. Logan Howlett this week. Haven’t even watched Deadpool & Wolverine yet but the Hugh Jackman renaissance is making me FERAL.

ANYWAYS

Logan has always been a hands on kind of guy. Always the “better to do it yourself than trust someone else” you know? So when your dear next neighbor has some car issues, he refuses to call up the local mechanic.

It’s summer, 90+ degrees outside and humid like a motherfucker. On what’s typically a quiet morning during days like this, too hot for even the local kids to venture outside, you hear some clinking and what sounds oddly enough like a drill. Peeking through the curtains, your eyes scan the mostly empty street to see Logan bent over the hood of his car.

And he’s shirtless.

Even from this distance, you can see his flushed skin glisten with sweat as he works. You fall into a daze, how could you not? It would take being blind to not notice how hot your neighbor was, and your brain never failed to forget it. His jeans hung somewhat low on his hips, hugging his strong thighs in a way that made anyone salivate with need. His back muscles were a sight to behold, straining and shifting as he worked.

He wiped the sweat off his brow, turning around to lean against the bumper. You panicked, ducking your head out of his sight. You angled yourself in a way that would hopefully obscure your compromising position, decreasing your chances of a potential complaint. From this new position, you found it even harder to move away from the window. He was perfect chiseled and toned, almost as if he was crafted by the gods themselves.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered.

The longer you stared was the more flushed you felt, unable to pull away as he moved to work under the car. The two of you hadn’t spoken more than a minute at a time, but his charming demeanor quickly enticed you. Just then, you got an idea.

Scrambling to the kitchen and almost slipping on the hardwood, you gathered your ingredients. By the looks of it, he’d be outside for quite a while. What kind of neighbor would you be if you didn’t offer him a drink?

A little bit later, you stood in front of the mirror trying to work up some courage. Giving yourself a little pep talk and a little minute shot of liquid courage, you ventured outside with a tray and the brightest smile you could muster. Upon hearing your footsteps and the soft clinks of ice, he turned around before you had the chance to call out.

And he smiled, canines on full display and cheekbones puffy with glee.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Your cheeks heat up at his compliment, feeling bashful.

“Stop, you’re too kind.”

“Never that,” he retorted with a wink. He points to the strawberry printed tray in your arms.

“Some of that for me?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. Thought you could use a drink.” He gushed, taking the tall glass cup gratefully. You set down the pitcher and tray on his tool kit, planning to come back for it later.

“Well uh…call me if you need anything else yeah?”

He didn’t respond at first, choosing that moment to make your escape before you ran your mouth.

“Wait.” You paused mid-step, turning back to face him.

“I could use some company…if you don’t mind that is.”

“No, no. I’d like that,” you responded, stumbling over your words.

“Yeah?,” he said with a boyish surprise in his tone. You assured him with a nod and smile.

“Lemme get you a seat then. Be right back.” You watched as he wiped the grease off his hands, jogging past you to get a chair from inside. Even covered in sweat and grime, he was hottest man you’ve ever seen.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman #need him biblically #wolverine #wolverine x reader

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jaylaxies · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER DAY 23 — JEALOUSY SEX

PAIRING: dom!jake x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, jealous jake, crying, mentions of fight (jake punches a guy), possessiveness, usage of nicknames, breeding.

WC: 1.1k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! here we have jealous jake as requested by @ikeuverse! i hope you like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

✎ kinktober masterlist

“Fuck—Oh my god, Jake no!”

It happened comically fast how one second you were talking to a guy and the other second, he was being ripped off of you by Jake and thrown right on the ground.

A punch was delivered straight to his jaw and you could swear you heard the nastiest sound of a crack from the intensity of the blow, which had you running and pulling your boyfriend back with a racing heart, stopping him from punching the guy any further.

To be fair, Jake did not expect you to not be home when he came back a day earlier from his business trip. It was supposed to be a surprise, and so he headed to the party after asking your friend about your whereabouts. Seeing you talking to a guy with that big of a smile was enough for him to be pissed, maybe the plan of espionage wasn’t the best of his choice, but then the guy went ahead and touched your arm—which would be his last straw.

It was harmless, not that Jake knew it, but the guy was your old tutor, nothing more or less.

The scene was messy, the fight embarrassing and you had a feeling that your tutor won’t talk to you again anytime soon, or ever for that matter.

You drove him back in silence, but it was louder till the point you could hear your ears ringing. He pushed his tongue inside his cheek, not regretting a single thing but you could very well feel him fuming with anger still.

How dare anyone touch you when you belonged to him and him only?

Thankfully the drive was short, and so was his patience as he followed you inside your apartment, hot on your tail. You didn’t dare look his way, unsure of how to react, so you rushed to get a medical kit from your room, only to find him sitting on your bed knuckles bleeding and his stare drilling holes in your face.

Wordlessly, you settled down and grabbed his wounded hand, eyes not meeting his still as you disinfected his knuckles, yet he didn’t flinch with the sting.

He’s had enough of silence.

With the same hand, he grabbed your chin and made you look up, right in his eyes, not a trace of humour present in them, only seriousness.

“What?” You whispered, breathlessly as you did so, mentally scolding yourself for sounding that way.

“I go out for a few days and you let other guys touch you?” He clicked his tongue, voice condescending, expressing his disapproval well.

It didn’t help how a shiver went down your spine at his deep tone. He was borderline scolding slash accusing you, and here you couldn’t focus on anything but how hot he looked when he was mad.

Maybe you did need help.

“That’s not it—he’s just my tutor, Jake! You can’t punch people like that,” you managed to say, frustration on your face.

He only chuckled darkly, “do you have any idea how close he was to you?”

You gulped. Maybe he was invading your personal space now that you think of it, but you didn’t have any guts to admit it to Jake.

He saw your expression and rolled his eyes, “you belong to me, is that understood?” He asked, jaw clenched and his hold on your chin tightening.

You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together and you tried to nod despite his hold.

“I need words, baby. You can use them, right? Or will I have to teach you that too?” His tone got deeper, accent heavy as he spoke against your lips.

“Yes,” you mumble and Jake rewards you by wrapping his slender fingers around your throat in a swift go, pulling your lips to his as you kiss him back eagerly despite his anger seeping through the kiss.

You gasp when he bites your bottom lip, “mine,” he groans, his tongue gliding over your own in a way that’s not soft, but hungry.

Sadly, he pulled away too fast, smirking when you whined at the loss of his touch, but it was a given how he wouldn’t let you get what you wanted so easily.

“Strip,” he ordered with no room left for argument.

Jake had always been kind—the perfect boyfriend you could have wished for but never had you seen him being so serious while being intimate, the warmth flooding in between your legs was a clear indication that you loved it.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, princess,” he whispered, watching you with his legs spread as he sat back, right when you got up with hesitance.

You knew it wasn’t the best time to tease him, but that only made you wonder just how far Jake would go in terms of punishment.

So you started off by putting on a show for him, unzipping your dress at a deliberately slow pace which made the nerve of his neck pop out, despite loving the show.

Right now, he wanted to mark you up.

It didn’t take him a second before he was standing in front of you, practically tearing your dress into two, picking you up and throwing you on the bed before your mind could comprehend anything else.

You’re glad you didn’t like that dress too much.

“Fuck—Jake!” You moan as he kisses you all over your neck, spitting on his fingers before shoving them inside your walls. It was easy given how wet you were, his thumb massaging your clit alongside as you threw your head back against the mattress.

“This cunt belongs to me, right?” He asked, eyes meeting yours as he lightly slapped your clit a few times to pull you out of daze.

“Y—yes, all yours,” you brokenly mumble, too busy chasing your pleasure with his fingers, walls clenching around him.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you could hear him shuffling out of his clothes before his red, leaking tip was lined against your wetness, your whines getting louder at the friction.

“I’ll kill anyone who touches you,” he whispered right against your ear, and your toes curled when you felt his tip prodding at your entrance.

Who knew your boyfriend would get that possessive, it was new but you didn’t hate it.

“Do you think you deserve this, hm?” He asked, slapping his cock on your cunt a few times as you cried out, nodding which only made him smirk, “good girl. Always know who you belong to,” he whispered.

You could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he pushed his dick in, till he was balls deep inside you, knowing that you’d take everything he gave you that night.

“I’ll make sure you never forget,” he says before thrusting in hard.

It was a promise.

And you were ready to get reprimanded for your mistakes the whole night.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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meazalykov · 4 days ago

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touchy

catarina macario x chelsea!uswnt!reader

summary: you don't know what to do with your hands, so you choose to always hold your lover

it’s a crisp evening in london, the sun already dipping below the horizon as you and the rest of girls at chelsea finish up the last few drills of training for the night.

the air feels charged, excitement ahead of the match against madrid tomorrow. however, your attention keeps straying to catarina, like it always does.

she’s standing off to the side now, stretching out her legs, her curly ponytail swaying as she rolls her shoulders back. you’ve been together for 18 months—18 months of loving her, being loved by her—and still, you can’t help it.

your hands ache to do something, to hold something, and more often than not, it’s her. so you jog over, not caring about the looks or the teasing you’ll probably get.

“y/n, what do you want now?” catarina asks, her voice light as she grins up at you wearing the pink chelsea training kit.

“you,” you answer easily, slipping your arms around her waist from behind and pulling her close. you hear her chuckle softly, her hands coming up to rest on your forearms. the sound of her laugh never fails to settle something inside you.

“seriously? we’re still training,” she teases, though she doesn’t make any attempt to move away.

“y/n!” lucy’s voice cuts through, loud and exasperated. you look up just in time to see a ball flying straight at you. you shift slightly, one arm still wrapped around cat, and catch it with your free hand.

“wha–what is this?” you say, raising an eyebrow as you hold up the ball.

lucy smirks, hands on her hips.

“you can hold it, y/n. now you’ve got something else to do with your hands.”

catarina bursts out laughing in your arms, her shoulders shaking as she leans back into you. you roll your eyes, throwing the ball lazily back to lucy.

“that’s lame, lucy,” you shoot back, pressing your face into cat’s hair.

“try harder next time.”

“lame? excuse me?” lucy huffs, but you can hear the grin in her voice as she throws the ball to the side and jogs off toward sjo and lauren.

millie jogs past at the perfect moment, her voice ringing out loud enough for everyone to hear.

“look at the lovebirds, will you? it’s like we’re not even here.”

lucy throws her hands up dramatically in mock disgust.

“ugh, get a room, you two. it’s unbearable.”

“you love it,” millie fires back, grinning as she ruffles lucy’s hair.

lucy tries to scowl, but she doesn’t fool anyone.

“no, i don’t!” she protests.

cat’s still laughing, twisting around in your arms so she can look at you properly.

“you really don’t care, do you?”

“about what?” you ask, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“all the teasing,” she replies, smiling softly. her eyes are warm, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

“nope,” you say without hesitation.

“gives me an excuse to hold you more. i’ve gotta do something with my hands, right?”

the way cat’s smile widens sends a flutter through your chest. she lifts her arms to loop around your neck, tugging you closer.

“you’re ridiculous,” she says, her voice quiet now, like the two of you are the only ones left on the pitch.

“yeah,” you murmur back, leaning in until your forehead rests against hers. “but you love it.”

she tilts her head slightly, pretending to think it over.

“do i?”

you pull back just enough to raise an eyebrow at her, and she laughs, squeezing your neck lightly before pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“okay, i’m joking,” she says softly.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too,” you answer quietly, meaning every word.

from somewhere off to the side, you hear lucy yell, “they’re doing it again!”

“oh, shut up, lucy!” millie calls back.

cat just shakes her head, laughing softly as she leans into you again, and you decide there’s no better place for your hands to be than exactly where they are—holding her, always holding her.

masterlist

#catarina macario #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #uswnt players #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #chelsea women #chelsea fcw #millie bright #lucy bronze #catarina macario x reader

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majinbangus · 5 months ago

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idc :)

"Feelin' a bit mouthy today, Sergeant?"

That should have been your first hint to shut up.

"Just showing initiative, Captain. You know. Making sound assessments. Like most leaders would be able to do."

He turns his whole body to face you. That should have been your second hint to shut the fuck up. "Better watch yourself, kit. That mouth'll get you in trouble."

"Trouble worse than the one we're already in?" You can't help but snark with a disrespectful- foolish- roll of the eyes. Not like you'll have a future to worry about by the way things are going, hunkered down and surrounded by hostiles.

"Aye, because when we live through this," Captain MacTavish's hand shoots out to grip your nape and forces you look at him, "I'll personally see to it you won't be walkin' any time soon."

You know that look. You know that it means for your ass if you make it out of this like John believes you will. You know it'll be a bitch to sit down for a week or two. It should make the warning bells go off. Should make you defer to him without question. Yet you've always been one to play with fire.

You smirk. "But you're not gonna do anything about my mouth, sir?"

The scowl deepens and the smirk leaves your face with a squeak when his grip tightens, jerking you closer. Your palms hit his chest and he leans in, baring his teeth at you. "Trust me, kit, your mouth will get exactly what it deserves."

You gulp, bells ringing.

It would probably be wise to shut up now.

(Reinforcements arrive, taking you back home alive and relatively unharmed. For a brief, idiotic second you think you're safe. Until Captain MacTavish holds true to his promise and drags you off to his quarters by the scruff of your neck before you can avoid punishment.

An endless amount of spanks, a thorough throat fucking, and getting your ass used until only he gets to finish later, you learn your lesson about keeping your mouth shut.

For about a month or two.

But that's okay, Captain MacTavish doesn't mind drilling the lesson into you until it sticks.)

#john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #captain mactavish x reader #soapy thoughts :]#mature themes

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sosouthernsoundkits1 · 3 days ago

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ellatoone7 · 9 months ago

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❄︎ My Mami ❄︎

Alexia's favourite girls series

Isabella doesn't like sharing

It had been a relatively easy morning, Emilia didn’t put up too much of a fuss and Isabella had helped you all morning. You had called Alexia when you were on the road letting her know that everything was fine and allowing her to wish her daughter the best of luck and give her a little pep talk.

Isabella was disappointed at first when she found out Alexia wouldn’t be able to make the whole game but she calmed down when she was promised to go to Alexia’s next training and even maybe step in on a few drills.

After making sure you had absolutely everything and making Isabella recheck that she didn’t leave anything in the car, you were now settled on the side of the field with Emilia sitting on your lap happily. “Mama Issy running with the ball just like Mami.” You chuckled at her little babble, quietly cooing your praise as you to watched your wife’s twin race up and the down the field with the same sparkle that Alexia had at her age.

When Emilia got wiggly you let her roam a little, knowing that she couldn’t wander off and letting her burn some energy off would do you all some good in the long run. Isabella had assisted two goals already and it was just half time, she waved at you excitedly and you were filled with the same feeling of pride that you always got when you watched your wife.

Alexia had been so excited for the game that nothing in the world was going to stop her from seeing at least a little bit of it. The Captain was quick to say goodbye to her team with the promise of photos and videos of Isabella’s game. Luckily she had arrived just as the second half started. She took a moment to take in the life she had managed to create as she spotted Emilia stomping around the sandy part of the pitch and you were only a few feet away sitting on a blanket you brought.

The sound of the whistle pulled her out of her trance as the game commenced and she was quick to join her little family. You didn’t even flinch when a body threw itself down next you, knowing your wife would show up a soon as she possibly could. Emilia was absolutely thrilled at the sight of her mother and launched herself onto the footballers lap. Alexia grunted in surprise as she smiled happily at the sight of her blonde, giggly daughter. “Hola mi princesa.” The three year old squealed excitedly as fingers pressed against her side teasingly.

Alexia then turned to you, “Hola mi Reina.” You kissed her soundly as she gratefully reciprocated, arm sliding around your waist as she smiled softly at you. Emilia sat happily between her legs as she leaned back into her mothers strong body. You decided to follow suit as you put your weight on her.

It was only when you really looked at her did you realise she was still in her training kit. “Did you run here straight from training.” Alexia looked surprised at your question before huffing, “No, I drove here…straight from training.” Emilia was distracted with playing with her mother’s wedding ring and Isabella had yet to see Alexia arrive, so you took your opportunity. “This training kit always looked so good on you.” Alexia’s eyebrows rose immediately, catching the suggestive tone of your voice immediately, “Sí?” you bit your lip and nodded, rolling your eyes amusedly as her signature smirk made its appearance. “I have to do something about that, huh?” You nodded as her eyes stayed glued to your lips, “Why do you think I was trying to tire Emilia out.” Alexia kissed you softly as it took everything in her to control herself.

A football interrupted the two of you as you quickly separated, cheeks burning red as the referee giggled at the two of you. Isabella was bright red until she caught sight of her mother. Her eyes lit up and she shyly waved at the Captain. Alexia smiled softly at her eldest and gave her a wink which instilled a fire into her daughter who immediately scored a goal. Alexia was now on her feet, shouting words of encouragement and you saw the future of Alexia’s coaching career ahead of you.

Emilia was giggling and repeating the words that her Mami was saying until she shivered. You were quick to grab the jumper you brought for her and Ále cooed as she passed her onto you.

The final whistle sounded with your daughter scoring another two goals. Isabella ran straight for her mother who wasted no time in throwing her up and over her shoulder as she showered her in kisses and praises. Even though Isabella was seven and getting way too old to be picked up but it never stopped Alexia from ignoring that rule and doing it quite often. Isabella seemed settled in her arms as she retold Alexia all about the match that she just watched.

Isabella was on her feet again when her coach came over to talk to the Barcelona star. The kids from the other team were in awe of the fact they had ‘La Reina’ at their match. Your wife always had time for pictures which is what she was doing currently as Isabella wandered over to you to give you a big hug and a recap. “That’s my Mami!” Isabella grunted as she hid her face into your neck, much like your wife Isabella didn’t like sharing.

“Yes and you get to go home and cuddle her all night, they only get a picture.” You laughed softly as she whined gently, “My Mami.” You sometimes wonder whether your eldest is really seven or actually just four. Alexia started heading back to where you were sitting with your daughters, she caught your amused glance and immediately knew that something was wrong but it wasn’t anything serious.

“¿Todo bien?” She asked as she hauled Emilia up into her arms, the three year old after successfully tiring herself out as she drowsily blinked from where she was laying against her Mami’s strong shoulder. Isabella peeked out at her Mami before remembering her arm around the other girls and she hid herself again.

Alexia frowned but you sent her a reassuring look as you coaxed the brown haired girl from her hiding place, “Tell Mami what’s wrong.” You whispered as she groaned but turned to face your wife anyway, “My Mami.” Her forehead met with Alexia’s leg as she mumbled out the words, arms intertwining around her thigh.

Alexia chanced a glance at you and you just ran a hand through her hair. “Sí, I am your Mami. ¿Quién dijo que yo no era mi vida?” Isabella didn’t even lift her head just pointed to where the crowd of girls were taking pictures with Alexia a minute ago. “Ay Ya veo. Vamos, vamos a casa para que pueda abrazar con mis chicas favoritas sí.” Isabella nodded and kissed her Mami’s hand before taking it and walking back to the car.

You placed your hand on your wife’s back along with a kiss to her shoulder as you took Emilia and placed her in her car seat with a kiss to the cheek. “I’ll take Is.’ You agreed before giving your daughter a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “See you at home.” You smiled wrapping your arms around your wife’s neck and kissing her deeply as a reminder of your previous conversation. She chased your lips before remembering where you were and leaving one final one against your cheek.

Once she watched you drive off she looked into the mirror making eye contact with your daughter and flashing her a mischievous smile, “I think we’ve earned ourselves some McDonald’s.”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #woso #Alexia's favourite girls

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sosouthernsoundkitsonline · 2 years ago

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Buy Drill Sound Kit Online : Download the latest & best collection of drill drum samples, drill melody loops, drill drum loops & drill kits Buy Sound Kits Online from Sosouthern Sound Kits now. drill sound kit

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sky-scribbles · 5 months ago

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There are a lot of things to love about the SSV Normandy. It’s a symbol of cooperation between two species historically at odds. It’s a miracle of engineering, a technological masterpiece that could alter every pattern of space warfare. Its crew is the highest calibre that the Alliance has to offer, bolstered by multispecies allies: an emblem of flying hope.

It also has far, far too many flashing lights. Everywhere.

One hand pressed to the wall to keep himself steady, the other pressed against his forehead as if that’s going to do any good, Kaidan shuffles down the hall toward the med bay. Every light panel and display interface feels like a laser drill boring directly through his eyes, sounds reverberate against the inside of his skull, and his sense of balance is a distant, pleasant memory. Kaidan sucks in a tight breath between his teeth. It’s going to be okay. He can do this. He’s done it before.

He drags himself the last few feet, and the med bay doors slide open. Kaidan opens up his omni-tool – god, why are those so bright, too? – and does what he’s done a hundred times, scanning the medical interface so that the med system logs him. Doctor Chakwas isn’t here, which means she’s on her rest shift, but that’s fine. The med system will alert her if there’s a problem.

Kaidan, turns, so ready to collapse into the nearest med bed – except he can’t. Because there’s someone already in it.

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Hey, Tali.’

‘Hey, Lieutenant.’ She still seems shy about using his first name. Maybe it’s a habit from being raised on board ships, or maybe she’s just not sure if she’s allowed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be once the pain meds kick in.’ Kaidan makes it to the next bed along and finally, finally lies down and shuts his eyes. ‘Doctor Chakwas is just… pretty strict about me coming here whenever a migraine kicks in. Just in case it’s a sign of something going wrong with my implant.’

Through the fog of everything hurts, it finally surfaces in his brain that Tali in the med bay is… that’s bad, right? ‘What about you? Are you, you know –?’

Okay, he’s not sure how to finish that sentence. There’s probably not a polite way to say hey, are you here because you’ve picked up a fatal illness?

He cracks one eye open, just enough to see her looking glumly at him. He’s not sure how he can tell that she’s glum when all he can see is her eyes, but yeah. She’s glum. ‘You know how I took a hit on Feros?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And how I disinfected it, and used my patch kit on the suit breach, and told Shepard I was fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I was not fine.’ She slumps down miserably. ‘My throat is full of painful slime, my sinuses are on fire, and my halesh –’ Okay, that’s obviously some piece of quarian anatomy – ‘is more gummed up than I can describe.’

Kaidan shuts his eyes again. ‘Well, my skull feels like it’s slowly contracting and crushing my brain, so… I sort of feel you.’

She laughs weakly. ‘I should have run an extra med scan once I got back to the Normandy. I just – I wanted to help with the engine maintenance today. And there’s this combat drone design I’m working on. And now…’ There’s a sound of movement; Kaidan gets the impression that she’s gesturing at the med bay in angry helplessness.

‘I feel that too.’ And he does. He really does. This isn’t the worst migraine he’s ever had – he can actually hold a conversation, which some days would be beyond him. But it’s… it’s not great. And he had things to do. Ash was running a drill and wanted him to look over her plans. He had a cleaning shift at fourteen hours. Shepard wanted to talk strategy for Noveria. And yes, he knows he has a right to take time off for a medical issue. He knows he’s no use to Ash or Shepard or anyone when he can’t even walk in a straight line. But knowing that doesn’t quite get rid of the squirm in his belly, the one that feels like letting people down.

Tali’s quiet for a minute, aside from the ever-present, barely-audible hum of her suit systems, and the occasional sniff from behind her helmet. Then she says, unexpectedly, ‘I’m just… I’m so tired. You know what I mean?’

Kaidan’s head throbs. He swallows. ‘Oh, yeah.’

The constant vigilance. Always having to be careful about where he goes – is this room too bright? Is this one too loud? – in case something triggers another bad spell. Taking hits to the head in a fight that anyone else could just shrug off, but that for him mean another trip to the med bay to make sure his implant isn’t damaged. Trying to do his job and suddenly finding, no, he can’t, because his body has decided that today’s the day he just doesn’t get to function.

Tali… she must go through the same awful deal, just in a different flavour. Always being careful, so careful. Someone else’s minor injury being her okay, let’s get a med check to make sure I won’t die. It’s not the same, of course: Kaidan can eat food without filtering it, touch people without protective layers, see people’s faces without a tinted mask. Still… there’s a tone in her voice that he knows from his own.

There’s a heavy silence. Then Tali says, ‘You know what’s really stupid? I left my datapad in my cabin, so I can’t even watch vids.’

Kaidan smiles. He’s seen her down in Engineering, a few times, hands flying around over the machinery, rocking back and forth on her heels. Idleness obviously doesn’t suit her. ‘You can borrow mine, if you like.’

‘Really?’ Her voice is already brighter. ‘I mean – won’t the noise will make you feel worse?’

‘Nah, I’ll be good.’ He’s not just saying it; there’s a blissful numbness creeping through his head which means that his meds are finally getting to work. He fishes the datapad from his pocket, taps in his passcode, and hands it over. ‘What kind of vids do you like?’

Her whole being perks up – tone, body, everything. ‘Oh, all of them.Any genre, any species. I mean… asari vids can be a bit long. I mean, they’re made by people who can spend a decade making a vid and a whole day watching it. Turians… their vids can be a bit depressing. There’s a lot of ‘this war ended with almost everyone dead, but one turian is still standing, so it’s a victory!”

‘What about quarians? What kinds of stories do your people tell?’

A small laugh echoes inside the helmet. ‘Quarian vids are pretty limited by environment. We don’t have a lot of varied sets to work with. So we tell the best long-running dramas. There’s one ship in the Flotilla that’s been hosting the same series for over eighty standard years now. Following the crew as they change over time, that sort of thing.’ She taps the base of her helmet. ‘It’s pretty good, but… I think if you watched it, you’d think there were a lot more explosions, murders and shipwide romantic entanglements in the Flotilla than there actually are.’

‘Human dramas are like that too.’

Tali laughs. ‘Quarian dramas make human dramas look relaxed.’

Kaidan finds he’s actually able to grin. ‘So what do human vids tell you about us?’

Her helmet tilts as she considers. ‘That you’re very individualistic. I mean, not every human culture. But you put a lot of focus onto characters and personal journeys.’ She scrolls down the datapad screen – looking through vid lists, presumably – then stops. It’s hard to tell, but Kaidan thinks she might be frowning. ‘I did notice… in a lot of human media, the biotics are…’

Another insistent pulse of pain through his temples. Kaidan sighs. ‘Crazy extremists?’

‘Yes. Do you… do you mind if I ask why that is?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Kaidan turns onto his back and stares up at the dim ceiling. ‘A lot of the early generation of biotics, the ones who got the same implants as me… let’s just say I got off lightly. Most ended up with much more serious medical conditions. And when people found out about the side effects of the L2 implants, the media got the bit between its teeth and –’ Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to translate. ‘Sorry. Human saying. They got a certain impression, and they ran with it.’

Tali’s quiet for several seconds. Kaidan twists his head to face her, and sees the pale eyes behind the mask giving him a long, steady look.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. And then, after a moment, ‘They tell lies about us, too.’

Kaidan holds her gaze, and feels terribly, achingly sad. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I bet they do.’

The way people look at Tali as she walks through the Presidium… it’s familiar. Not quite the same. There’s a note of scorn in the looks they give to Tali – but there’s suspicion, too, and that’s something he knows. All the times back on Earth, after he got back from Jump Zero, when he shook someone’s hand or opened a door, and their eyes found the implants. They way they stared at him like he was a loaded gun. All the documents he had to fill out to do anything, the knowledge that any government he lived under would always be hovering a few steps away, keeping tabs, making sure.

Remembering Rahna – remembering that obvious, instinctive fear in her eyes – is an old memory now, the kind that’s a faded scar. But he remembers the shock of it, back when he was seventeen. When no one had looked at him like that before, and it was dizzying and new and felt like a hole in his gut.

He bets Tali has that hole in her gut all the time.

Kaidan pushes himself up a little – which makes his brain spin, but he manages it – and gives Tali a smile. ‘Well. Let’s look for something that gets us both right.’

‘Definitely.’ She flicks through the options for a minute more, then pauses. ‘Have you ever seen Fleet and Flotilla?’

‘I think I’ve heard of it.’ There’s a faint memory of seeing an ad for it, maybe, and thinking it was the kind of thing he’d have loved as a kid. Space exploration. Justice. Love. ‘The… war romance, right?’

‘Yes!’ Tali’s legs bounce. ‘It’s – keelah, it’s so good, it’s – it’s about this girl, Shalei, who’s on her pilgrimage. And she’s interested in the geth, because she’s got this dream of finding a way to defeat them and take back the Homeworld, right? And when she finds something, she goes to the Citadel for help, but no one will listen except this one turian called Bellicus –’

‘Hold up. Wasn’t that… exactly what you were doing when we met you? Minus the turian, I mean.’

Tali ducks her head, suddenly shy. ‘I… I really, really like the vid.’

No kidding. Kaidan smiles. ‘So let’s watch it.’

His head still feels like a bombsite, and when he thinks about all the things he wants to be doing for his crew and isn’t, the rest of him hurts too. But maybe he’s still doing something for his crew, sitting in the med bay with his sick squadmate – his sick friend – and sharing her favourite vid with her. Maybe he’s doing something for him, too. He doesn’t do that too often.

Tali props the datapad up on the table between their beds, her whole body one big smile. ‘You’re going to love this,’ she promises, and presses play.

#sometimes your disability gives you a day tm so you write 1900 words about ME1's disability duo #i love their friendship. beloved nerds.#(if you're wondering 'did i see this two hours ago?' I accidentally posted it while I was still editing.#and I deleted it until I was ready to post because I'm a perfectionist)#mass effect #mass effect fic #kaidan alenko #tali'zorah #sky's writing

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