#i wanna put him in a washing machine on the spin cycle

[insidiousclouds]

Sorry followers for the spam (I'm really not) I just need to chew on that old man like a rubber dog toy.

[angelbaby-fics]

Just saw my first picture of Ransom in the sweater during Autumn It has me thinking about Ransom where him being independent and less of a rich meanie, he is doing laundry and shrinks his sweater. THE sweater. So little gets a sweater just like cg Ransom. And he has to go buy another so they can match ♡ and they cuddle and eat cookies together ♡ that sounds like a nice day to me ♡

-♡

Sweater Weather

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: OMGGGGGGG anon this is such a cute idea!! i had to write it as a full fic & i even have some inklings of a part 2 in mind 😳 ahhh i'd give anything to hug him in that big comfy cozy sweater omg 🥺💕

Ransom could absolutely, one hundred percent do his own laundry. Seriously, how hard could it be? All he had to do was put the clothes in the machine, pour in some soap, and press start. Just because it took him until his forties to start doing this on his own didn’t mean you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks. Ransom was committed to setting a good example for you, teaching you how to be self-sustaining and not just a spoiled brat like he’d once been. As a result of this decision, the maid now only came every two weeks instead of weekly, and Ransom was responsible for everything in between. 

Dragging the hamper down into the laundry room, Ransom sighed as he tossed handfuls of dirty clothes into the washing machine. He slammed the metal door shut with a roll of his eyes; just because he could do the laundry didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. As the water began to fill up the drum of the machine, Ransom went back upstairs, settling into his big armchair to enjoy a book while he waited for you to wake up. The coffee he’d made earlier that morning was already room temperature by now, but he decided he’d rather just bear it than get up and make a new one. One chore was enough to deal with right now. When less than five minutes remained on the wash cycle, Ransom heard you stirring in your room upstairs. 

He took the stairs two at a time, not wasting a second to get you into his arms. Lifting you out of your crib, he rocked you back and forth, patting your back to soothe away a sob that hadn’t yet come. Ransom bounced you on his hip for a few minutes as you adjusted to the new morning, whispering sweet affirmations as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. He carried you over to the window, and you hid your face into his chest as he opened the curtains to let in the sunshine. Your daddy smelled like wood and cinnamon and love all wrapped up in one man.

The buzzer of the washing machine went off just as Ransom and you reached the bottom of the stairs. You looked up at him with wide eyes, frightened by the sudden noise, but he comforted you once more. “Shh baby, don’t worry,” Ransom soothed, “It's just the laundry.” He picked your blanket and pacifier up from the couch, adorning you with both. “Do you wanna help me put it all in the dryer?” You nodded, always eager for quality time with your daddy. He carried you back down to the basement where the laundry room was. You rarely saw this part of the house as you rarely needed to, aside from laundry it was mostly used for storage and guest accommodations if the upstairs guest rooms were taken. Curiously, you gazed all around you, taking in all the aspects of this new part of your daddy’s massive house. 

Ransom sat you on top of the dryer. Opening the doors of both machines, he began to take out damp clothes and hand them to you. It was your job to toss the clothes into the opening of the dryer below you. Finally, when all the clothes were loaded in, Ransom handed you a dryer sheet to put in with it all. It smelled like fresh lavender, the familiar scent of your sheets and blankets. You grinned behind your paci, so proud to be part of what made your house a home. Ransom picked you up off the dryer and set you down on the floor so you could push the door closed all by yourself, and you waved at your clothes through the clear window as they began to spin. 

To pass the time while the clothes dried, Ransom made you breakfast and helped you eat it at the kitchen table. He was just wiping off your face with the corner of your bib when he heard the buzzer on the dryer. This time you weren’t scared, you knew what the sound meant. 

“Is ready?” You asked with excitement.

“It sure is! Do you wanna help me organize it?” Ransom offered, happy to have his favorite little helper make the chores less boring.

Ransom removed your bib and lifted you back onto his hip. He put you back on top of the dryer and scooped all the warm, clean clothes into a hamper to take back upstairs.

“I’m sorry baby, but you gotta walk up with me.” He said with a sigh. “Daddy can’t hold you and the basket at the same time!”

But being the stubborn and spoiled little angel that you were, that wasn’t gonna happen. So Ransom carried you back upstairs, settled you into his big comfy bed, handed you a stuffy to watch you for the moment, and then retrieved the laundry on a second trip. When he got back upstairs, he dumped the warm clothes on top of you, making you giggle as the fresh laundry rained down on you in a flurry of cozy smells and soft textures. You emerged from the pile like a baby chicky from an egg. Ransom kissed your nose before starting to pick the clothes off of you one by one, folding each one as he went. One of your t-shirts, then another, a pair of his socks, and a cute little sweater of yours. 

Except… he couldn’t remember buying a sweater like this for you. In fact, it looked an awful lot like one of his sweaters but smaller.

“Oh, come on!” Ransom whined, dropping the shrunken sweater on the bed with frustrated force.

“What’s wrong, daddy?” You asked.

“I’m not sure,” Ransom replied, taking out his phone and furrowing his brows as he typed. 

Turns out, laundry was indeed more complicated than Ransom had assumed. If he’d been more careful, he would have known that some clothes needed special settings, or else the heat could warp the fibers and make them shrink. Thus, his favorite cream-colored cable knit sweater was now far too small for his giant frame.

It was perfect for you, however.

Thinking quickly, Ransom picked the sweater back up and held it up to you. Your eyes widened with glee. A new sweater just for you? And you’d be matching with daddy! You eagerly took the sweater out of his hands and put it on over your shirt. It fit you perfectly, the sleeves just slightly too long in the most perfectly cozy way. Wearing it felt like a constant hug from Ransom. Despite having just been washed, you could still smell him under the lavender scent. The threads of the knit were comfortably lived in, frayed around the hem from years of wear and anxious fiddling. That’s when you realized it was Ransom’s sweater all along, shrunken down to your size.

“But daddy…. It’s s’posed to be yours!” You said, looking up at him with a nervous look. 

As happy as you were to be the new owner of your favorite sweater, it saddened you to think you would never see him wear it again. Your eyes started to water, mourning the vision of your daddy as you always imagined him, snuggled up in the piece of clothing he’d owned the longest and worn most often. Change was hard for you to take, and Ransom understood that. “Hey, it's okay baby, you can have it now!” Ransom tried to cheer you up, gently wiping the tears from your face with his soft fingers.

“But I want you to have it!” You cried into the sleeves.

“It's too small for me, baby!” He laughed, a smile breaking through your sobs as you imagined Ransom squeezed into a tiny sweater. “But if you want, I can buy a new one for myself. Then we can match!”

You smiled, nodding leaning forward into his arms.

“Yeah? You like that idea?” Random asked, and you nodded again, killing two birds with one stone as you used the action to dry your tears on his shirt. “Alright baby, let's go out and buy a new sweater for daddy.”

[homicidal-slvt]

COD Incorrect Quotes

-

*Graves laying on the ground after getting shot*

Alex: What's wrong with him?

Price: He's American.

-

Y/N: Wow, this rock is so sparkly and pretty.

Ghost: Yeah.

Y/N: I wanna put it in my mouth.

Ghost: Don't.

-

Gaz: I will place you in the washing machine and put it on the hardest spin cycle.

Soap: I don't think I'd fit.

Gaz: Oh, believe me. I'd make you fit.

Soap, nervous: Ok... That was actually kinda terrifying.

-

Laswell: You are both the most mentally stable and mentally unstable person I've ever met.

Y/N: ..... Thank you?

-

Nikolai, talking to Price: Their not well.

Y/N: What do you mean? I feel fine.

Nikolai: I meant mentally.

Y/N: Oh- yeah.

-

Y/N: Someone either needs to give me treats or fucking euthanize me because I'm about to start biting.

Alejandro: Good thing I brought cookies.

Rudy, slightly horrified: What the fuck is even going on-?

-

Y/N: Stabbing is therapy. I need to be set free.

Farah: Price... What the hell did you bring to me?

Price: A new friend.

-

{These are all based off conversations I've had. You're welcome.}

[kittenofdoomage]

Cleaning House

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sam Winchester x female!reader

Prompt: waiting for the bunker's washing machine to be done

Word Count: 642

Warnings: smut, fluff

Sometimes it was nice to have the bunker to yourself. With the guys around, it was way harder to keep the place clean, but long hunts meant you got days to really clean out, and most of the time it was therapeutic. You didn’t leave the bunker much, preferring to keep to research in the safest place on the planet while Sam and Dean took care of the gory stuff.

It hadn’t been so bad this time around and by the second day, you’d done pretty much everything, except for the laundry. By the time you got the last load in, you were searching for things to do but when you came up empty handed, you settled for sitting on the bench above the dryer, playing on your phone while you waited.

You weren’t expecting Sam to come home this soon, so when he appeared in the doorway, casting a shadow over you, it made you jump. Your phone slipped from your grasp and Sam darted forward, catching it before it could hit the ground and sustain another crack.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled, putting the phone on the counter beside you, standing straight and close enough for you to touch.

“What are you doing home?” you squeaked, reaching for him to pull him close.

“Case ended up being a spirit, not a nest,” he murmured, crowding into the space between your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs. “Dean’s gone out to blow off some steam and,” he chuckled, “well, I’m after the same thing.”

You smiled, sliding your hands over his shoulders. “I just gotta wait for this load to finish.”

His fingers were already pushing your dress up, the warmth of his huge palms skating along the side of your thighs. “Oh, baby, I’m not that patient.” He pushed in closer, grinding into you, pushing your dress up higher until it was bunched around your waist. You moaned when he moved his hand to your pussy, stroking you through the thin cotton of your panties. “You really think you can wait now?”

“No,” you croaked, squirming against his touch as he leaned down to kiss you hard. “Sam -”

“Sssh,” he urged, hooking one finger through the material covering you to pull it to the side. “I got just what you need.”

His other hand was at the fastening of his pants, deftly undoing them to pull his cock free. You hissed as he pressed the tip into you, swiping it through your slick folds and when you wiggled to try and get closer, Sam grabbed your ass with one meaty paw, dragging you right to the edge of the counter. The action forced him inside you, the stretch still shocking even after so many encounters.

The washing machine hit the spin cycle and the noise it made increased, covering your cries as Sam started to fuck into you. Your toes curled as he lifted your knees, forcing you to balance your own weight on your hands, the angle allowing him to slam deeper. You whined loudly, suddenly mindful of the shelf behind you, but Sam’s powerful thrusts were too much, stopping you from concentrating on not banging your head. It took a second for him to notice, and he dropped one of your knees, sliding the arm around your middle to almost lift you from the counter. The movement immobilized you, allowing him to drag you down harder onto his cock.

You came with a violent cry, clinging to his shoulders as you shuddered, clenching uncontrollably around him. He jerked and thrust once more, hard enough to knock the wind out of you, before the familiar warm spread outwards from inside until it was dribbling down your ass.

“Machine’s still got twenty minutes,” he pointed out, laughing against your shoulder. “What do you wanna do now?”

[foster-the-moths]

some stuff about led astray au (most of it is just silly):

-six works at mandelatech. dave has NO CLUE he's an alternate. he thinks six is just some normal middle aged single father of two.

-when mark and cesar meet mark is in his more human form. the way that cesar learns about marks alternate form is one day mark is just like. wanna see something cool i have SOOO many teeth and cesars like. of course that sounds cool as fuck i wanna see a bunch of teeth. mark shows him and he's horrified, not because he's scared but because 'you have to brush and floss ALL of those???' and marks responds with '?? i dont brush my teeth' cesar is flabbergasted

-speaking of hygeine!! mark knows nothing about it so when adam was a baby he put him in a fucking washing machine. he spin cycled that infant.

-cesar is actually mark's source of education on a lot of human stuff because. six is trying his best but he does NOT know that shit. and mark is in hiding so he sure as hell isn't going to school. eventually when mark is older he convinces six that they should put adam in school, which is how he meets jonah.

-mark. doesn't like humanity very much. in his eyes cesar is the one good human ever and he isn't very fond of anyone else. so when adam makes a human friend (jonah) mark is not thrilled about it

-another reason mark doesn't like jonah because he smokes weed JFKLSJFKLSDJFSLFJDKSL even though he kills people and is literally a demon. calls it 'the devil's lettuce' and everything. they get along later tho don't worry.

-ruth lives in this au!!! thatcher is there too. they quit the force and now they research mark and adam's cases bc they are unique to all of the other kidnappings (i can. explain that later). the reason why they are so invested in them is because ruth's daughter got taken and she's trying to look for her. and since ruth is alive thatcher is less pathetic DSJALDSAD the wet cat energy gets transferred to ruth. shes like a depressed noir detective. thatcher is like a conspiracy theorist, he's always running on energy drinks and laser-focused on piecing together evidence. he has 20 of those red string cork boards. he gets to be a bit more silly in this au. they are also very close friends with dave and he helps them digitize the evidence they have :]

thats all for now but. feel free to ask either me or @official-bps more about it 👍 we have a LOT more about this au lol

[plutoruins]

HALA . the package came in :3c

I know I've said it so many times now and that my gratitude has probably lost its novelty but I don't know what else to say but thank you ... well besides I love u very very much. I didn't expect to get a blanket AND goodies AND a note WITH A MUSHROOM ON IT ITS SOOO CUTE ITS THE FIRST THING I SAW AND IT ABSOLUTELY MELTED MY HEART GIRL. and then I saw the mango nectar and almost cried (again) I didn't even know mango nectar was like. a thing you could buy. it's in my fridge rn chilling for later after dinner. it was so sweet of you to add some extra for vro btw he didn't believe it until I showed him ur letter he also says thank you and that he would sacrifice a newborn for u. BUT. I do have a question actually because I've never had something like this I wanted to ask is there any specific way i should take care of the blanket. obviously I'm going to be very careful with it but I wanted to know do I have to like. hand wash it or like. hang dry it or what. I can't stress this enough if this thing comes unraveled by my hand I'm going to become a hermit .

side note your handwriting is very cute :) I could read it just fine and it didn't smudge at all in the mail! I'm going to keep it and the envelope on my mantle for safe keeping <3 and also as I've told ima before (she didn't believe me, actually) I don't keep a personal number so I'm quite sorry 😞 perhaps someday soon I'll get one exclusively for u two ... I digress however I won't overwhelm u with an extremely long ask. thank you again (and expect me to repay you someday!)

actually it’s so fitting that you don’t have a personal phone number 😭 but i’m happy you and vro loved the gifts! i hope the mango nectar was good too 💥 they’re like 58 cents here so i always try to get a bunch when my stepmom goes out shopping. i gotta find some once i move tho 😔.

also you can hand wash or machine wash it if you want! if you hand wash it, fill a container with lukewarm water and add gentle soap to it. let it soak and gently swish it around for about 15 minutes. afterwards, gently squeeze it to remove excess water once you remove it, dump out the lukewarm soapy water, then refill it with more lukewarm water (😭), and put it back in and swish it around for another 15 minutes this time to remove on the soap.

if you wanna machine wash it, use a delicate/gentle cycle with a low spin speed and cool water. also! make sure to use a mild or gentle detergent! when you go to dry it, the best way is it to lay it flat on a towel and then gently press out the excess water by rolling it up in a towel, then lay it on a plastic bag or a different towel. if you wanna machine dry it, go for low heat 💥

ALSO!! i listened to the song you sent and it fits seiko and kiyoshi so well! i’m adding it to their playlist rn [heart hands]

[impactmintsfresh]

Summary : Your favourite stuffie is starting to smell

Warnings : None

Word count : 650 words

Steve had you balanced on one hip as he fought you for the bear. You were gripping it as tightly as you could but Steve was too strong. He wasn't going to rip it from your fingers in case he hurt you or the bear, you'd never forgive him if the bear got hurt. But he was wiggling him side to side and your fingers were losing their grip on his fur. 

"Daddy noooo please nooooo!" You had tears running down your face and were already sniffing. Steve's heart was breaking but he knew he needed to be firm about this.

"Come on baby, give me Mr Bear. You know he needs a wash." Honestly the bear was long past needing a wash, Steve was planning to wash him while you were asleep but after spilling juice on him Steve didn't have a choice.

"Noooo! Daddy, can't swim." You tried to yank the bear from Steve's grasp but just ended up letting go all together causing you to cry harder.

"I promise you baby, he can swim. He'll only be gone for a short while and then you can have him back in time for your nap." Steve didn't want to punish you for acting out, he knew you were just scared but he thought about putting you down early.

Steve sat you on the floor making sure you couldn't grab the bear from him again as set up the washing machine. He placed the bear in gently, and started the cycle. 

Steve sat on the floor next to you and pulled you into him. "Baby, I promise. He will be fine. Let's go watch a movie and when we are done you can cuddle him again." You shook your head and tried to pull away from Steve. "Aw baby I am sorry, I don't want to make you sad. You know when you spill juice, Daddy gives you a bath?" Your eyes filled with tears as the water filled up, lifting Mr Bear up and causing him to fall on his side. 

You nod slightly, not taking your eyes off your friend worried something might happen if you did. "You don't like being sticky do you? You like your baths." You nodded again, sniffing.

"Is sticky." Steve lifted you onto his lap.

"That's right baby, you're all sticky and you want a bath. Well that's how Mr Bear feels." Steve winced as the machine picked up speed and started to spin the bear around. "He was all sticky and wanted to be clean."

"Why not bath then!" You thumped your arm on Steve's. He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you tighter. 

"Because he needs a special wash. Look at all the bubbles he's getting baby!" The machine was so full of suds it was hard to see the bear now, but you could see tufts of brown occasionally.

"Bubbles?" You looked at Steve and he nodded smiling at you. A bigger part of you was reassuring you, a quiet voice in your head telling you this was ok. That he would be safe in the machine. "Okie Daddy." You snuggled into Steve, still watching Mr Bear.

"Okay baby." You could feel Steve smile against the top of your head. "Wanna watch a movie now?" He felt you shake and point to the machine.

So you two stayed like that, Steve was happy just to hold you. After half an hour you fell asleep and when you woke up Mr Bear was warm and soft in your arms. You gave him a kiss and took a deep breath, realising he smelt like Daddy's shirts that you liked to steal.

[lvlcurrent]

I’m not gonna be able to read the story without thinking Raphael is some sorta sad drowned rat now!!!!! 😭😭😭 Like the way you draw him makes me wanna put him in my pocket only to forget he’s there and end up putting him through the washing machine!! It’s so FUNNY. LOVE YOUR ART.

😂😂 AHH--!! i havent even met him yet and i'm imposing the most pathetic personality i can onto him😆💦 ahhh put him through the spin cycle he wont even notice ;w;)~ ++thank you!!!! 😊

this is me with ralph

[cockworkangels]

i wanna put castiel in the washing machine and watch him miserably spin round and round as the wash cycle moves him. want to pick him up and hang him to dry in my living room. i wanna wrap him in a blanket and sit on his lap as i feed him soup.

[pynkhues]

So i sent a similar ask to megan because i love peoples thoughts on their own fics and i love snippets soooooo👀 I’m curious what your top five moments in the c&c verse are (which have already happened) and top 5 moments you’re looking forward too?!☺️

Ahhh, thank you! This was such a fun one, haha. It got looooong, so I put it behind a cut! [edit: sorry, the cut doesn’t seem to be working on desktop, but it is on phone? tumblr’s being tumblr! Hopefully it fixes soon?].

Top Five Moments in C&C

1. Annie argues with Beth about the security system in I Could Be Your Welcome. 

This was actually one of the first moments I wrote in the C&C ‘verse. I can’t remember the exact context around me writing it, but I remember being interested in Beth’s lack of self-preservation / tendency to ignore danger, and had been thinking a lot about what that would look like in an actual relationship with Rio. It sort of manifested in the thread of Rio buying this expensive security system throughout I Could Be Your Welcome and becomes a bit symbolic of the fact that Beth hasn’t really unpacked any of the realities at that point on what a relationship with a man like Rio means. 

Beth is such a stubborn character at the best of times, haha, that I knew I wanted her to dig her heels in on it, and I wanted it to culminate in a fight, and I just loved the idea of Annie being the unlikely voice of reason, and how that reason fell out of how much she loves and worries about Beth. 

Here’s my favourite part: 

-

“Yeah, and you need to talk to him about that. But he’s not Dean,” Annie interrupts. “Dean lied for Dean. Dean lied to cover up all the ways he shit the bed, and he shit the bed on like, every level. Comforter, sheets, mattress protector, mattress. Bed frame. Floor underneath. I mean, was there a single inch of your marital bed that wasn’t brown by the end of it all?”

Beth gives Annie a look at that, and Annie laughs to herself, waving soapy arms out and letting the suds drift to the floor.

“With Rio, I think he was - -” and her voice cracks then, her bottom lip wobbling, and she looks briefly away, trying to pull herself together. It takes her a minute to collect herself, to figure out what it is that she wants to say, and when she does, her voice is somehow both raw and firm.

“You’re asking me to be mad that he’s trying to keep you safe, and that’s never going to be something that makes me mad.”

It takes Annie a moment to meet her gaze again, and when she does, her jaw is fixed, even as her lip still wobbles, a tear – blackened with mascara – having stolen down her cheek, catching at the curve of her nose, and - -

And just - -

Dammit.

2. Rio realising why Jane’s upset in Two Hands. 

One of the things I find most fun in writing the early days of the C&C ‘verse, is that Beth and Rio flat out do not communicate still, hahaha, and they really just threw themselves into this family without fully knowing what that meant. 

Two Hands was very much about that, and in particular about the fact that Rio, in the early days of their relationship, treated Beth’s kids ultimately as extensions of Beth. Two Hands for me marks this turning point in the timeline where he started to really think of each of them as their own people, and consciously commits to building individual relationships with each of them. 

Also I love writing Jane, haha. Here’s my fave bit: 

- 

“It’s not always like this,” he says, and Jane looks up at him, and there are too many expressions that pass over her round little face – disbelief and childish frustration until it finally settles on somethin’ else, somethin’ softer, less certain, somethin’ he ain’t seen on her face, at least not somethin’ he’s seen directed at him.  

“You didn’t say bye,” she says finally, her voice small, and Rio exhales, annoyed. 

“I did, darlin’,” because he did. Shit, got to fight about it with Elizabeth and leave Marcus red faced and weepy, made sure of that, but then - -  

He looks at Jane and any self-righteousness dies on his tongue.

“Not to you though, huh?” he says softly, and Jane shuffles back into his arm, presses her forehead into his chest, out of sight, the nozzle of the sippy cup sucked into her mouth like a bottle, keeps herself looking away from him, and Rio exhales. He looks down at his bruised hands, then at her feet, where the booties of her onesie hang limply down the side of the couch, her feet lost somewhere in the legs of the thing, the hood of it hangin’ so far down her face it almost covers her eyes, and he reaches up to tug it back, just enough he can see her.  

“’m sorry. Think maybe I’m still gettin’ used to this,” he says, because he hadn’t said goodbye to any of Elizabeth’s kids. Had trusted her to do it for him, had treated them like they were just a part of her, but - -

They ain’t.

They’re - -

Well.

Fuck.

Jane looks up at him, her eyes a little glassy and just - - he ain’t sure what that is, the feelin’ in his gut, hollowing itself out. “Can you be the first one I say hey to instead?”  

She makes a show of turnin’ it over, her squirming against his chest and drinkin’ that goddamn awful drink he’s made her, but then she nods, and Rio tugs on one of her rabbit ears.  

“Hey, Jane,” he says quietly. “You been good for your mama while I been gone?”  

And she grins a little at that, shakes her head into his chest again, giggling before she can stop herself, and Rio smiles too, but rolls his eyes.  

3. Rio’s non-proposal in Stick to the Rivers 

I’m weirdly into the thought of Dean getting married a million times after he and Beth finally divorce. I think Dean’s just affable and charming and goofy enough to trick women into thinking he’s a good guy, and I kind of love the idea that it results in this string of short-term disaster relationships that parallel to the longterm stability and true partnership Beth finds with Rio in C&C. 

It’s something I’m definitely going to be exploring in future chapters, but it was really fun to start to in Stick to the Rivers, where Dean tells the kids he’s engaged and Beth and Rio are left to deal with the fallout. I also love the idea of Beth and Rio floating concepts with each other as jokes, even when they mean them seriously, haha, which is how this moment happened: 

-

“Thought you ain’t sayin’ nothin’,” Beth says, imitating his voice, and Rio exhales sharply, squinting down at her in that irritated way that he does whenever she imitates him.

“I ain’t,” he says, gritting his teeth, and Beth arches an eyebrow up at him. “But that dumbass ex o’ yours - - ”

“Is getting married,” Beth replies, refocusing her gaze on the ceiling, and at least that’s enough to make Rio be quiet. It was a dirty trick, and she thinks they both know it, but still - - she just didn’t have it in her for Rio to tell her what she already knew, to have to justify (again) her inaction when it came to Dean.

Rio sighs above her, and she can feel him trying to catch her gaze, but she keeps it fixed steadily on the ceiling, briefly wishing for cracks or cobwebs or anything beyond the pristine surface there to distract herself, only something must distract her, because she doesn’t realise Rio’s undressed or even moved at all until he’s nudging her forwards and slipping into the bath behind her. He pulls her gently back against his chest.

“You’re surprised,” she tells him softly, letting her head loll back onto Rio’s shoulder, her eyes slip shut, feeling his hands stroke down her arms, one coming back up to cup her breast.

“Surprised he managed to trick another woman into gettin’ saddled with his ass, sure,” he replies easily, and Beth huffs out a laugh, beyond the point of being offended by anything Rio says about her and Dean’s marriage.

“You wanna beat him down the aisle?”

And just - - what?

Beth’s eyes snap back open, and she spins a little in the water to look at him, and it’s unfair, the mirth in his eyes, but also the - - something. She can’t quite read it, god, still can’t quite ever know him fluently, so she just squints at him.  

4. The whole of Louder Now, Help Me Out 

We’re extremely lucky in this fandom to have so many writers who are genuinely SO funny (including you!!), and I am not one of them, hahaha. I always feel like I tend to be a bit clunky when I try to write jokes, but occasionally I think I pull it off, and the installment where Marcus, Jane and Emma ask Beth about sex is one I’m pretty proud of. It still makes me grin when I read it, haha. 

-

“Miss Elizabeth, do you and my daddy have sex?”

Somewhere inside, Beth can hear Kenny and Danny playing video games, can hear lunch gently simmering in the crockpot, can hear the faintest whir of the washing machine working through its cycle. Which is nice, she thinks blankly, her smile not shifting as she tries to process what Marcus has just said to her. She can’t quite look at Ruby, who even out of the corner of her eye she can see has her mouth hanging open, and she definitely can’t look at Annie, even if she does see her drop heavily back down into her chair (doesn’t even have to know for sure to know that she’s grinning).

Beth clears her throat, softening her gaze.

“Who told you that?” she asks, and beside him, Jane shrugs, a suspicious look on her face.

“Lucas Bircher. He said he saw his daddy naked and he put his penis inside his mommy’s butt and then his daddy told him that that was sex and it was how they made babies.”

“Not if it’s in her butt,” Ruby says quietly, taking a sip of her coffee when Beth spins around to glare at her. She drops her mouth open, planning to tell the kids what, she’s not sure, when Jane continues:

“But then we asked Kenny, and Kenny said growed-ups have sex because it’s fun and that you and Mr Rio do it all the time.”

5. Beth finds Rio with Marcus comes home after a bad job in Friar’s Lantern. 

Angst though is something I think I write well, haha, and particularly crime-y angst. Friar’s Lantern is a story I was really excited to write, particularly in exploring the dynamic between Beth and Marcus, and the history of Rio and Laura. I liked the idea that Rio and Laura care about each other deeply, but that she was never in crime, and that she hit a breaking point with it in a way that made her really demand that Rio hide a part of himself from her. 

In a lot of ways, Friar’s Lantern was about Beth doing the opposite, and demanding that he share himself instead. I wanted to parallel the moment a bit with the dubby too – with parenthood being central to both Beth and Rio’s vulnerabilities and something that has often lead to shifts in their dynamic – so Marcus’ teddy bear formed a really fun device in that sense. Also the image of a bloodied and bruised Rio bringing his son his stuffed animal was just the right sort of angst for me that day, hahaha.

-

His eyebrow split open, blood trickling from the skin there, down his temple. It looks like he’s swiped it back, once, twice, maybe three times, the blood smeared and dried, caking in his hair. There’s a deep bruise at his jaw, a deep, wide cut at his lip, like he was punched by somebody wearing a ring, and Beth’s gaze travels down him, only to have to swallow a gasp at the blood soaking through his shirt.

He watches her watch him, then says:

“Not all of its mine,” like it’s supposed to make her feel any better about it, and she hates that it does, because god, it’s selfish. She doesn’t want any of it to be his. It can all be the other guy’s. She wants it to be. She can’t summon the words to say anything – barely knows what to, and Rio suddenly jerks his head away from her, looking back at Marcus, and Beth exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding to have his wounds out of sight again, however briefly.

“I won’t be long,” he says, eyes still on Marcus. “Just droppin’ Otis off, yeah?”

And - - what? Beth blinks, steps closer before she can help herself.  

“Where are you going?” she asks, and Rio doesn’t pull his eyes away from Marcus, and Beth just - - stops. A foot or so away from him, and here she can see the blood’s thickest at the arm of his shirt, darkening the navy fabric, and it still looks wet, like maybe it’s still bleeding.

“Got a hotel.”

Beth tears her gaze away from his arm at that, looks up at him, watches him watch Marcus, and god, his jaw is already swelling.

“Why?”

And that’s enough to make him look back at her. Beth wets her lips, feels herself tremble, steps forward again, and when she touches his arm he flinches back like he’s been burned.

Top Five Moments I’m Looking Forward to in C&C

1. Finally writing the housewarming in See You in the Light. There will be drama! Beth will try to run away! Rio might break something! (And we all know how that usually ends, hahaha).

2. Beth and Rio getting married. I never, ever thought I’d write them getting married in any ‘verse, but once I realised the plot for it, it’s been stuck in my head. I have a pretty strong outline for the fic overall, so it’s definitely coming!

3. Another thing I never thought I’d write in this particular fandom was a pregnancy scare fic. I got a lot of C&C prompts for it though, and it’s actually teased out a pretty angsty installment in my head where they do have a scare and it makes them actually have to talk about what that looks like. In it, Beth confirms she doesn’t want anymore children, and Rio reveals that he would’ve liked one with Beth, but that he’d figured that it wasn’t on the cards. It ends up being a pretty bittersweet story where they’re both happy with what they have, but wonder what could’ve been, and what a child who was both of theirs might’ve been like. 

4. On a much lighter note, I’ve had a ‘five things’ fic for ages which is actually just a time-jump fic with Beth and Rio teaching each of the five kids to drive, haha. It’s ridiculous, but hopefully pretty fun. 

5. And there are a lot more too, but to bring this full circle, haha, there is an installment coming where Rio’s away for business, and, um. The security system is actually used. Think Panic Room vibes. 

put “top 5” anything in my ask and i will answer ok go

[alounuitte]

halfway home

After evading capture by the Garrison's staff, Keith deals with a friend who needs help - and some unwanted guests. (Set during the pilot.)

if you ship shiro with keith (or any of the other paladins) don’t even look at this i’ll block you on sight if you mention or tag this as shipping.

chapter 1/4

Keith pulls back on the throttle sharply and spins to a stop beside the house, dust kicking up into the air as he powers down the engines and the bike settles to the ground. “Oh, gosh,” groans the big guy, whose name Keith still can’t remember; the bike rocks slightly as he sways where he’s perched on the back. “Oh, man, I don’t feel good.”

“Get off my bike if you’re gonna hurl,” Keith tells him with a glance over his shoulder, and jumps to the ground himself, turning quickly to steady Shiro as he slumps forward. “Hey, man, are you with me? Shiro?”

Shiro stirs and mumbles something incomprehensible, his eyes flickering open halfway before closing again. Whatever the Garrison medics gave him must have been pretty strong stuff. Keith sighs and shakes his head, pulling Shiro’s arm around his shoulders to help him down from the bike.

“So, uh, what’s this place?” the scrawny one - Lance - asks, looking up at the house. “Some kinda secret safe house, or what?”

“It’s where I live,” Keith replies, frowning at him. “It’s just my house.”

“Wow,” Lance says. “What a dump.”

Fury prickles hot under his skin, but Keith bites his tongue and tries to ignore the jab. “Come on,” he says, putting an arm around Shiro’s back to support him. Fuck, he can feel his ribs through the thin, ragged shirt he’s wearing. What the hell happened to him? “Let’s get inside, okay?”

He pushes open the door and pulls Shiro over the threshold, moving to kick it closed just as the tiny cadet with the glasses he doesn’t recognize moves to come inside. “Hey, wait,” the kid protests, quickly stepping in to stop him. “What about us?”

“I didn’t mean you,” Keith says, trying to push him back outside with one hand.

“What?” Lance protests, scrambling down from the bike to join his tiny friend. “But we totally helped with your rescue mission!”

“More like got in the way,” Keith snaps. “I came back for Shiro, no one asked you three to get involved—“

“So you’re just gonna strand us out in the desert?” Lance argues, gesturing at the open landscape with one hand. “Where are we gonna go when you live out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Not my problem,” Keith tells him, shrugging. “You’re the ones who decided to hitchhike with me.”

“I’m not leaving til I get to talk to him,” says the one in glasses stubbornly, ducking under Keith’s arm to push his way into the house.

“And we can’t go back to the Garrison,” Lance says, wedging his foot in the door before Keith can slam it shut. “We’re gonna get suspended, or expelled like you—“

“Shut up!” Keith snarls, his free hand curling into a fist at his side.

“Keith?” Shiro asks, his voice thick and slurred as he lifts his head. “Where… what’s…”

“You awake now?” Keith asks, trying to focus on Shiro instead of the others trying to intrude. “Come on, you should sit down.”

“The Garrison,” he mumbles. “They need to - I’ve got to tell them…”

“So, uh,” says the big guy as he appears in the open doorway behind Lance, looking a little unsteady.  “What’s - what happens now? What’s the plan? Do we have a plan?”

“We don’t have a plan,” Keith says, annoyed. “I do, and it doesn’t involve any of you.”

“Well, he’s obviously not thinking clearly,” Lance says, jerking his head at Shiro. “Iverson just tried to lock him up and he wants to go back there!”

“Yeah, no offense, sir,” the big one adds, “but any of us going back to the Garrison right now seems like a bad idea.”

“You don’t… understand,” Shiro manages, trying to push himself upright. “They’re coming, we don’t have much time, I need to get in contact with Flight Command—“

“Sir, I don’t know if the Garrison can be trusted,” the little one says, standing up straighter himself. “They hid the truth about what happened to the Kerberos mission—“

“Stop!” Keith tells him, glowering. “All of you, stop talking—“

He breaks off as Shiro sways and slumps sideways, ducking under his arm again to support him.

“Look,” he says, “if you all want to stay here for the night, fine. But I don’t want you getting in the way, and I don’t want any of you bothering Shiro right now, got it?”

He crosses the room carefully, still supporting most of Shiro’s weight, and helps him to the couch to sit down.

“Hey, man,” he says, perching on the arm of the couch to rest a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

Shiro stirs a little and groans faintly, trying to lift his head, but if he’s trying to say something he doesn’t manage it. Keith swallows hard.

“He’s gonna need some time to sleep off the sedative they gave him,” he mutters aloud, more for his own benefit than for the bunch of strangers who are now standing in his living room. “Guess asking any questions is gonna have to wait until morning.”

“What about the aliens?” the big guy asks, fidgeting nervously. “You know, the ones he said are coming? Here? To Earth?”

“What did I just say?” Keith asks, annoyed. “I don’t know any more than you do, and Shiro’s still too out of it to tell anyone anything.”

“I mean, yeah, but,” he protests, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, do something? Tell somebody?”

“Who?” asks the little one, adjusting his glasses. “Who is gonna believe us when even the Garrison wouldn’t listen?”

“Okay, okay, just because Iverson wouldn’t listen,” Lance begins.

“I thought you didn’t wanna go back,” the big guy reminds him.

Lance shakes his head quickly. “Oh, no, no, no, no, I don’t. Even if we wouldn’t get court-martialed, my sister would kill me. I’m just saying--”

“Will all of you be quiet?” Keith shouts at the top of his lungs, and the three cadets all fall silent. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, or what we should do,” he adds after a moment. “What I do know is that my friend needs time to recover, and my one priority right now is to make sure he’s gonna be okay.”

No one speaks, the three cadets all staring at him wide-eyed, and he’s suddenly far too aware that he looks disheveled and run-down, hardly the picture of some kind of hero even if two of them didn’t know him as that kid who lost his mind last year and got expelled from the academy. Not exactly the kind of guy who inspires trust.

“I’m…” he says, and swallows. “I’m gonna help Shiro lay down. All of you can fight over who gets the couch, or whatever, I don’t care, just - stay down here, okay?”

“Dibs,” Lance says, looking around at the others. The big guy groans.

Keith rolls his eyes, getting to his feet. “Come on, man,” he tells Shiro softly, taking his arm to pull him up. “Let’s get you up to bed.”

Shiro’s still barely conscious, and he has to lean on Keith’s shoulders heavily to stay on his feet, but with Keith’s hand on his back to support and guide him he’s alert enough to walk, at least, and he only stumbles a few times on the stairs. “Keith?” he groans under his breath as they reach the top, his voice still slurred and heavy. “Is… that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Keith says, guiding him into the unused bedroom. “Take it easy, I’ve got you.”  Their footsteps stir up dust from the floor, and he wrinkles his nose, trying not to sneeze.

“Where… are we?” Shiro asks, and coughs weakly.

“My house,” Keith tells him, and swallows. “I mean - my dad’s house, you know, where I…”

“You’ve gotta warn them,” he manages, trying to pull himself upright. “They need to know, Keith, if Iverson won’t listen…”

“I know,” Keith assures him. “I promise, we’ll figure things out in the morning, okay? Right now I think you need to sleep.”

"...Yeah," he agrees slowly, slumping against Keith's shoulder. "Okay."

He all but collapses onto the dusty mattress when Keith goes to help him sit down, and crawls into bed with a groan, struggling clumsily to pull at the covers. Keith tugs the quilt out from under him, swallowing a lump in his throat as he drapes it over Shiro's shoulders. "Night, Shiro," he says quietly.

There's no answer; Shiro's already lapsed back into unconsciousness.

Keith sighs and brushes his hair out of his face, turning away. From the closet he pulls out one of his dad's old t-shirts, examining it in the dim light to determine it's probably around Shiro's size. As quietly as he can, he digs out a pair of jeans and Dad's old vest as well, grimacing at the musty smell of clothes long left untouched. He'll need to wash them first, but Shiro's going to need something other than those rags to wear.

The others in the living room are still awake; he can hear them talking as he creeps back downstairs, but they go quiet before he comes around the corner. At least if they're pretending to sleep they won't try to talk to him, he thinks, and hurries past to the laundry before any of them change their minds about that.

When he’s put the clothes into the wash and started the cycle, he sits down next to the machine and leans back against the cool metal, drawing his knees up to his chest.

In the quiet, with just the rumble of the machine to keep him company, the reality of what’s just happened finally starts to sink in, and he screws his eyes shut as they well up with tears. He’s not going to cry about it, not now, not when he finally knows for sure that Shiro’s okay - and especially not when there are three near-strangers in his living room who could overhear. He takes a deep breath through his teeth to steady himself, lets it out slowly so it rumbles in his chest. He’s not going to cry.

He’d never really thought Shiro was dead. Not when the Garrison reported the loss of the mission, anyways, because the upper brass must have been kidding themselves if they thought passing it off as pilot error would fool anyone. But when weeks passed, and then months, with no renewed contact, no sign of anyone on the crew, no more information on what could have happened - a part of him had started to think he was never going to see him again. And now that he’s back, home —

Keith’s breath catches in his throat and comes out as a choked sob. Shit. He buries his face in his folded arms, tears burning in his eyes. He’s not going to cry, he tells himself, swallowing hard. He’s not.

A tear leaks through his lashes despite his best efforts to fight it back; he feels it hot on his cheek before it runs down into the sleeve of his jacket. He sobs again and presses a hand to his mouth, biting into his skin to smother the sound.

Pull it together, Keith, he tells himself. Shiro needs you. His teeth dig into the heel of his hand until it hurts, until he can feel his pulse in his palm. He takes a deep breath and lets it out before wiping his eyes with the end of his sleeve. He has to be ready to help when Shiro's up - getting him these new clothes is a step, but he'll need to eat, too, and he'll probably still be as confused and frantic as before when he comes around. He's going to need someone around he can count on.

The washer spins to a stop slowly, and he pulls out the change of clothes to throw them in the dryer before he heads upstairs. He can leave them down there for a bit once they're dry if he has to, and he's still much too aware of the three cadets in the living room who he hopes are asleep by now.

At the top of the stairs, he pauses in front of Dad's room, looking around the edge of the door at Shiro where he's sprawled on his back on top of the covers, motionless except for the fair rise and fall of his chest. For a minute he just watches him, tries to keep his own breathing steady despite the tightness in his chest and the lump in his throat. He's not going to cry.

With a sigh he  turns away and slinks into his own room, curling up in bed without pulling the covers up. He's done everything he can before Shiro wakes up, he tells himself. The best thing he can do now is wait.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pulling Rank

Series Summary: After the events of Civil War, Steve and his team are stuck in their compound. Following a mission, you disagree with your stalwart leader but he does not take kindly to your defiance.

Sequel to Insubordination

Chapter Description: Stuck in the compound, the reader can’t get away from the captain.

Warnings: dub/non-con and explicit sex (including oral) Obviously 18+ (like this whole blog)

Note: I decided to do a sequel (at least) to this fic. Hopefully you all enjoy some more dark Steve although lately it seems he’s taking over the blog. I’m still working on raffle winners but they will be up over the next few weeks and hopefully offer more variety. 

Anyways, thanks for reading. Feel free to send an ask, reblog, or reply you reaction :)

Waking up the next day was difficult. Every muscle in your body was both tight and weak. You felt as if you had been run over. You were in the same position Steve had left you in; sprawled sideways across the bed, the remnants of his dry cum on the duvet and your skin. You shook as you sat up, bruises darkened along your hip bones where he had held you down. You glanced over at the vibe carelessly laying on the dresser and your stomach flipped. It had definitely been real.

You rose, wobbling on your legs before you caught yourself on the dresser. You grabbed the toy and lumbered into the bathroom, dropping it into the bin. You doubted you’d have any urges after last night. You’d be content enough to be left alone. If Steve wanted to chase you out, he was doing a good job. You sat on the toilet, your back aching as you hung your head. You should go back to Stark Tower and beg mercy; swallow your pride and sign the Accords. No, it was too late for that. You had chosen your dog in this fight but you hadn’t realized it was vicious.

It took about ten minutes to find your strength again. You managed to turn on the shower and step inside, hoping to sear away Steve’s touch. He lingered on you even after you stepped out of the steaming bathroom. In this place, there was no escaping him. You felt worse as memories of the night before had your skin burning. It was everything you had been yearning for and more; you just hadn’t expected it to happen like that.

You stripped the bed and tossed the blankets in a pile. You’d worry about the laundry later. You were restless. You kept pacing, unable to sit still for more than minute. What if he came back? A fucking lock wouldn’t hold off a super soldier. You should go. Just leave. He didn’t want you on missions anymore and it seemed he didn’t want you in the compound either. You could ask Clint for help. He was laying low, having gone along with everything for the sake of his family, but he’d give you place to hide out. No one else needed to know.

No, that was selfish. Risky. You couldn’t endanger his family for your own missteps.

A knock came and you froze. You stared at the door, shaking as your visitor rapped again. The handle slowly turned and you waited with dread. As the door opened you gasped and sighed in relief. It was only Nat. You shook your head at yourself.

“Hey, what’s going on?” She let the door go, “I thought we were going to work out this morning. Why didn’t you answer your door?”

“Uh, sorry, I’m tired,” You lied, “I...was just stressing all night about…” Your voice trailed off and your eyes searched for anything but visions of Steve. “My suspension. I don’t know, um, don’t know if I, uh, should stay any longer.”

“Y/N, it was one day. A stupid argument. You can’t go.” She scoffed, “Don’t leave me here alone with these idiots. I mean, Wanda’s never here and I don’t wanna be the only one left with brains above the waist.”

You tilted your head and chewed your lip. You couldn’t tell her, she wouldn’t believe you. You didn’t want to tell her. Or anyone. You wanted to forget. If you kept in line, listened, Steve would leave you alone. You hoped. “Fine,” You relented, “Not like I have anywhere to go. Let’s just…” You paused as you turned to the dresser, your hand hovering in front of the knob. He had stood right here; he’d been waiting. “...Go work out.”

“You could use it. Get some of that tension out,” Nat chided, “Jesus, Y/N, you’re gonna start driving me crazy along with yourself.”

“The guys, they usually work out at night, don’t they?” You grabbed some workout gear and headed into the washroom, leaving the door slightly open so Nat could hear you.

“Don’t worry about Steve. If anything, he’ll just give you the silent treatment. He’s stubborn but he’ll get over it.” She said, “You know, you were right. He was being a dick.”

“Uh, yeah,” You pulled on your shorts and the loose tee. You re-entered the bedroom and sat to put on socks and your sneakers. “I just, I don’t need another argument, is all. I just want to work out and forget about everything.”

“Oh yeah, even the laundry?” She kicked the pile of sheets.

“It’s my day for the wash,” You lied, Sam wouldn’t mind you snagging the machines. He rarely used them anyhow. “Trying to get a head start.”

“Well, let’s go.” She clapped her hands, “I really do get fed up waiting on you all the time.”

“You could’ve gone without me,” You grabbed your water bottle; you could fill it from the fountain in the gym. “You’ve done it before.”

“You’re a drag when you’re hungover,” She chuckled and led you into the hallway. “Well, more so than usual.”

You and Nat continued to kid until you came in sight the glass wall of the gym. It was like an actual facility; machines, weights, mats, everything you needed. You laughed as you turned the corner, almost forgetting what had you so on edge. Until you glanced over at the gym. You stopped short and Nat nearly tripped in her surprise.

“What is it?” She asked.

“I…” You stared through the transparent wall. Steve had his back to you as he squatted a good two hundred pounds and Sam jogged on the treadmill across from him. “What are they doing here so early?”

“Oh,” She turned, noticing the unexpected patrons, “It’s fine. I’m sure we can all share peaceably.”

“No,” You backed away, “No, I think I’d rather do my laundry.”

“Fuck, Y/N, it’ll be fine.” She hissed.

“You can work out without me, I’ll just go later tonight,” You tried to get away before Steve could turn and see you. “Really, I just...I can’t deal with him right now, okay?”

She sighed and crossed her arms. “Fine. Have fun with your dirty sheets.” She spun on her heel and marched away. You shook your head as you watched Steve’s back muscles move through the thin fabric of his shirt. Your lip trembled as you recalled his strength, how easily he had held you down, the deep plunge of his cock inside of you. You turned and hurried in the other direction, your head spinning.

Fresh sheets on the bed, a sandwich smuggled back to your room for supper, a day spent successfully evading Steve. Another hour and you would chance the gym. Midnight workouts weren’t very popular. You spent the time watching Youtube on your phone, your leg shaking eagerly. You hated missing a workout; especially as it was essential to your livelihood. Although, you weren’t going on missions anytime soon.

You checked your watch; quarter after. You slipped into your sneakers and grabbed your water bottle again, this time determined to get your sweat on. You were relieved to find the gym empty and you started your stretches just in front of the bike. You liked to cycle; your speed your greatest asset. As you touched your toes, you heard the subtle whisper of the gym door. You looked between your legs and nearly fell on your head. Steve stopped just inside, crossing his arms as he stared at your ass.

“I was wondering where you were this morning,” He watched as you stood straight, turning to him in surprise. “Nat said you weren’t feeling up to it today.” He neared, “Wonder why?”

“What do you want?” You walked backwards, colliding painfully with the treadmill.

“What was that? I didn’t hear a sir or Captain in there.” He tilted his head as he spoke, “I thought we went over this last night.” You were trembling, reaching back to grip the machine as you fought to stay standing. “It’s gonna be a long suspension if you keep on like this.”

You felt behind you, edging away from the treadmill, past the bike and around the weights. There was a rack between you and him. He followed steadily; enough that he kept up. When you were closest to the door, you turned and darted, pulling it open as your panic turned your vision hazy. You could hear him behind you as you ran down the halls. You knew he was faster than you but you didn’t care. You needed to get away. You turned the next corner and he caught you by the back of your shirt, the fabric tearing down the middle. The force of it caused you to trip and you barely got your arms up to save your head.

Out of breath, you tried to get your knees under you but a kick to your rear kept you down. Steve slid his foot under your side and flipped you over as you panted. He brought a foot to the other side of you and knelt down to look at you closer. He smirked. “You didn’t think our little lessons were done.” He taunted, “You still have much to learn.”

“No, please, you don’t have to do this,” You attempts to push him off were futile and he caught your wrists and backed up and pulling you to your feet. You struggled with him but it was hopeless. “I’ll scream.” You threatened.

“Go ahead. Who do you think would believe you? Even if they stumbled on this little scene, what are they going to do?” He chortled, “I mean really, what have you done about it? What can you do?”

“Why?” You breathed desperately.

“Because I can,” He said, “Because I can’t be leashed anymore. Those days are over and I’m in charge now.”

“You made your fucking point,” You hissed, his grip was painful on your wrists.

“I know,” He look down at you triumphantly, “It’s not about that anymore.” He spun you around, releasing you and holding you to the wall by your neck. He leaned down, his voice low as he spoke in your ear. “You know, there is a side effect of the serum not many know about. Torturous, really. It’s this unending desire. This deep want that just can’t be sated. You get one taste and you wanted more. A hunger that only grows the more you feed it.” He exhaled, his breath singing your cheek, “I’ve ignored it for too long.”

“Steve, please,” Your eyes were wet, “Please, I know this isn’t you. I’m just...that girl you met in New York. You trained me, taught me everything I know.”

“I didn’t train you well enough,” He snarled as he bent closer, his lips brushing your neck before his teeth sunk in. You yelped as he bit you and his hand moved over your mouth as he sucked at your flesh. He pulled away with a pop, standing straight to admire his mark. He brought his other hand up and ran his thumb over the tender spot. “I’ve decided on two months suspension. I figure it’s enough time for you to go over the basics.”

“What’s changed in you, Steve Rogers?” You sputtered.

“Nothing. I was always an animal,” His fingers framed your face; an unspoken threat. He could crush your head in a single move. “I’ve just been uncaged.” 

You croaked. There were no words left to you. Your voice was caught in your chest, your whole body trembling at you stared up at this monster before you. 

“I always thought of fucking you, but I was too cheesy about it. I thought of dates and flowers.” He scoffed to himself. “ What a joke.”

You squirmed but it made no difference on his hold on you. He smiled at your pathetic struggles and he reached down to yank on the front of your top, the torn fabric slipping down your arms. You caught it but it was useless now. A rag. “I will give you one choice; should I fuck you here or drag you back to mine?”

You blinked, your chin shaking as you held back the lump rising in your throat. “Not here,” You said quietly, “Please...Captain.”

“Ah ha,” He sounded impressed with your use of his rank. “Good girl. Come on then. I can’t wait any longer.”

He turned you, keeping you ahead of him as he marched you down the hallways, your arms holding the remnants of your shirt against your chest. His room was just around the corner from yours. A fact which now disturbed you. You watched longingly as you passed your own door and he stopped you before his. 

“Now,” His long lashes flicked as he looked you up and down. “We’re going to practice your listening skills tonight. See what you really learned. So, you do what I say, you do it well, and you’re halfway to a model soldier. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” You nodded, staring at his door with dread.

“Hmm,” He grumbled, “I think I prefer Captain.”

“Yes, Captain,” You kept your eyes forward, doing your best to still your nerves. Reaching desperately for some semblance of stability. Do as he said and it’d be over soon.

“Open the door,” He said and you quickly reached for the handle, pushing it inward. “Ladies first,” He beckoned you onward and you stepped inside, “Yeah, mmm, you’ve got such a cute little ass.” The door closed behind him. “Stop right there. Bend over.” He groaned in approval and neared you, his hands settling on the thin fabric of your leggings. He jiggled your ass before slapping it as hard as he could. You caught yourself before you could land on your head.

“Stand up,” He backed away, “At attention.” He commanded and you stood straight, your shirt falling to the floor. “This,” He reached out and snapped the strap of your sports bra, “You need to get a nicer uniform, soldier.”

“Yes, Captain,” Your voice was airy; barely your own. It was his now, as your body was.

“Undress, quick,” He circled you, silent as you took of each piece of clothing. The tension was suffocating. “We’ll have to work on that time, soldier.” Your lips curled as he once more addressed you with the patronizing title. “Good form, nonetheless.” He cupped your breast, flicking your nipple with his thumb. “Now, undress me.”

You gritted your teeth through another ‘Yes, Captain’, and moved closer to him. He stood before you patiently, watching you with a smirk was you tugged up the hem of his tee shirt. He lifted his arms, stooping to help you maneuver the cotton over his head. You struggled so much to unbuckle his belt that he laughed. When at last that was done, you slid off his jeans, pausing to remove his shoes and socks awkwardly. You felt as low as dirt.

You glanced up at him as all that was left were his boxer brief. He looked down at himself, his erection about to burst through on its own accord. You pressed your fingertips to the elastic, slowly slipping them under and guiding them down. As the head of his cock popped out, your eyes widened. It somehow looked bigger than last time. Well, you had been half-delirious then. Lower, lower, until they fell to the floor. He stepped out of the underwear, his cock poking your stomach as he came closer. You back up but the flash in his eyes kept you near.

“Now, before we continue, I need you to answer a few questions. Honesty is important in a good soldier,” He walked around you again, his cock bobbing with each step. “How many men have you fucked? Before me, of course.”

You sighed and looked down. Whether the number was high or low, it was embarrassing. You answered and he nodded, stopping before you. “And,” He took your hand and wrapped it around the base of his cock. “Were any as big as me?”

“No, Captain,” You admitted. He was well above average and there were few who could compare.

“Mm-mm-mm,” He preened at your answer, “I could tell. That tight little pussy needs breaking in.” You let go of him and he sneered. You quickly set your hand back on his cock. “But you’re biggest problem is that mouth of yours, so why don’t we work on that?” You swallowed and looked down at his cock, your fingers couldn’t even wrap around it fully. You couldn’t imagine taking all of it.

You kept hold of him and stiffly got to your knees. You looked up at him. He was too tall. “Damn,” He swore, “All is not lost. Bed. Hands and knees.” You let go of him and did as he said, climbing up on his large bed; bigger than your double. You waited at the edge as he followed, standing before you as he wiggled his hips teasingly. “Better.” You stared up at him, hoping he would suddenly change his mind. No, that was stupid. “Suck my cock.”

You cringed, letting out a deep breath. “Yes, Captain,” You bent to press your lips to his tip, flicking your tongue out to wet it. You did your best to spread your saliva up and down his shaft with your lips and tongue. You prayed he didn’t try to go all the way. You’d choke if he tried that. You carefully stretched your mouth around his head and he twitched, a moan floating from him. He leaned into you, pushing further in as you opened your jaw as far as you could. You flinched as his head poked the back of your throat, drool plastered on your lips.

You tried to pull back but he caught the back of your head. He forced himself deeper and you kicked your feet as you struggled to breath. You could barely get enough air through your nose. You were almost at his base, tears at the corner of your eyes as your nails dug into the blankets. He reached his limit and your passage was completely blocked. He stayed there for a moment, watching your face change colour before pulling back. He thrust in again and out; a steady pace as you gasped between intrusions. Your sweat mixed with tears and saliva as he moved his hips faster, fucking your face as his hands held your shoulders.

“That’s it, soldier,” He hummed, “Fuck, I didn’t think you could take it all but look at you.”

You grew dizzier with each plunge into your throat and your body began to sag, hands slipping as you crumpled on the mattress. He removed his cock from your mouth and let you fall, watching you wheeze into the duvet. He sat down beside you, feet still on the floor as he reached over and patted your back. “Catch your breath. That’s it.” He cooed, “Now, get on my cock. You can’t just leave me this way.”

Weakly, you lifted your head and sat up, dragging yourself to the edge of the bed. You climbed down and turned to him as he leaned back with his hands on the mattress behind him. “Soldier.” He warned.

“Yes, Captain,” You quavered, stepping closer. You got up, squatting over his thick thighs as you reached down to steady his wet cock. You were shaking as you used his muscular torso to hold yourself up, his head at your entrance. You let yourself slip onto him, a sigh fluttered from him as you lowered yourself. There was some resistance, some pain, but you pressed on, afraid he would force himself in all at once. Your walls were tight around him, gripping him as he impaled you fully. “Aiii!” You let out the unwanted yipe at the overwhelming fullness.

“I think you know the drill, soldier,” He stayed reclined, watching as you lifted yourself on your knees and brought yourself back down. You shuddered atop him. “You like that cock?” He asked as you continued your motion, fingers clawing at your own thighs. “Answer me, soldier.”

“Yes, Captain,” The reply rose on its own as you drowned in ecstasy. He was too much. Too strong, to powerful, too big.

“Tell me you like it,” He breathed, tilting his pelvis up slightly, getting even deeper.

“I like your cock, Captain,” Your head lolled back as you rode him.

“Touch yourself,” He rasped, “I want to see you cum.” You moved your hand to your clit, keeping stride, and began to rub yourself, eager for your climax. Your arms shook and your muscles clenched and released as you chased the high. “Are you going to cum for your Captain?”

“Yes, yes, Captain,” You forced out in your throes, “I’m going to-to-to cum, Ca-a-a-a-ptain.” Your orgasm was stunning. Dumbfounding as every thought left your head. You forgot that it was Steve below you, that he had dragged you here, that he had fucked you just as roughly the night before; everything.

“Ugh,” He grunted, his hands on your hips as he sat up. He stood up easily with you still on his cock, bouncing you up and down. All at once he lifted you from his length and set you on your weak legs, nudging your shoulder. “On your knees, soldier.”

His cock twitched as you lowered yourself, still dripping with your juices. “Take my cum in your mouth.” He ordered with hands on his hips.

You grabbed his cock and began to stroke him. “Faster.” He groaned, “Yeah, yeah, more. Tighter.” He commanded your every move and you worked his length furiously. “Open your mouth.” You forced your lips open and tilted your head back, his cum spurting forth. You tried to catch it as best you could, hot ribbons landing along your cheeks and across your lips, your tongue coated in saltiness.

You slowed as his orgasm faded and released him as you sat back on your heels. As his cum cooled on your face, your cheeks burned. There it was; the humiliation. Steve reached downand smeared his cum across your face before grabbing your chin firmly as he forced you to look at him. 

“Now, it’s time to test your stamina, soldier.” You had no choice but to stand as he pulled you up by your jaw, “Touch your toes.”

tags: @breezy1415 @alexakeyloveloki @beautiful-and-strange @phoenix21love @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @meaganottiz02 @patzammit

[vintagevalentinex]

Laundry

So I had this idea for this Benny story this weekend!  It’s not one of the longer ones I’ve written, but I still really like it!  I hope you do as well!

This story was inspired by Etta James singing I Just Want To Make Love To You. Like always, I strong encourage you to listen to the song while you are reading or do so beforehand!

Please let me know what you think! :)

@icecream-and-winchesters​ @bovaria​ @abaddonwithyall​ @aprofoundbondwithdean​ @spnfanficpond​ @theerinpage​ @bkwrm523​ @kittenofdoomage​ @ohfora67impala​ @maraisabellegrey​ @im-an-octopus​

Title: Laundry Author: vintagevalentinex Words: ~1675 Pairing: (Benny x Reader) Warnings: Laundry smut.

“Love to you, ooohooo, Love to you…”  You swayed your hips as Etta James blasted out from the bedroom you shared with Benny.  You had only thrown on one of his henleys and a pair of panties to do the wash for the week.  You were putting the clothes into the washer, still singing the the music, your thoughts kept going back to that handsome man you shared a bed with.  Benny.  Unf.  Why on Earth that gorgeous brute of a man wanted you, you’d never know, but you certainly were not going to question it.  You were definitely the first person to admit that the relationship you had with the vampire was anything but simple, but you were enjoying yourself.   He was a good man; he was loyal and devoted, not to mention that he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid your eyes on.  Benny was built sturdy, all muscle and scruff, yet despite all of that, he had the most beautiful, kind eyes you’d ever seen.  When you first met him…er…when he saved your ass from that vampire nest…also known as ‘Sam and Dean get you into the worst situations ever’…you didn’t know what to do.  He was so gorgeous and he fought his own kind to save you…but yet he was still a vampire.  You were so conflicted.  You smiled to yourself as you remember that night…the night that completely made you rethink the way you thought about hunting.

You sat as far as you could on the other side of the truck as it raced away from the abandoned building you were being kept in.  You couldn’t believe you were so foolish as to allow yourself to be kidnapped by such a stupid nest of vampires.  They had been planning on nearly draining you dry before you were saved by…a vampire?  What the hell was going on?  You were so confused and tired, growing more and more frustrated as you got farther away from the dump you were being held captive in.  You stared out the window, wishing you were even farther away than you were now, and as far away as you could be from the vampire sitting on the other side of the truck.

“M’not gonna hurt ya, cher…”

“……”

“S’not exactly the thank you I was expectin’…”

“…didn’t ask to be saved…”

“…so she speaks…good ta know, darlin’…”

You turn your head, watching him intently as he continued to drive on, stealing glances at you as he continued to steer.

“…why?”

“What are ya goin’ on ‘bout, darlin’?”

“Why did you save me?  You just killed a complete nest of you kind…to save me…I’m nothing to you…”

He scoffed bitterly.  “They aren’t my kind, shug.  M’nothin’ like dem. Might be hard for ya ta believe, but m’on your side.”

“…on my side?”

“Sure thing, darlin’…Dean sent me after all.”

You rolled your eyes.  And there it was.  Of course Sam and Dean knew a damn vampire.  The absurdity of it all made complete sense for that pair.

“So…what now?”

He smiled, chuckling a little.  “Well…was figurin’ that ya wanted ta clean up a ‘lil and maybe sleep some before ya hit the road…”

You chewed on your lip.  That did sound amazing actually.

So amazing that you actually never left.

You continued to sway your hips, giggling to yourself as you popped the rest of the laundry into the washing machine, your fingers trailing to the bottom hem of Benny’s henley that hung loosely from your body.  You froze up when you heard a low, appreciative whistle behind you.

I don’t want you to be no slave I don’t want you to work all day But I want you to be true And I just wanna make love to you Love to you, ooohooo Love to you

“Don’t stop on my account, shug…jus’ enjoyin’ the view.”

You turned around; smiling as you rolled your eyes at him, shaking your hips again as you defiantly smirked at him.

“Well…this shirt does seem to be a little dirty from last night’s…festivities…”

He grinned at you as he stepped closer.  “Oh does it, cher?  Ya might as well throw it in wit’ the rest of the wash then, no?”

“Yeah…I guess that’s for the best…”

You started to mouth the words to the song as you slowly pulled Benny’s henley up, letting your skin slowly be revealed to his hungry gaze.

All I want to do is wash your clothes I don’t want to keep you indoors There is nothing for you to do But keep me making love to you Love to you, ooohooo Love to you

You finally pulled the shirt off, throwing it at him as you continued to sway your hips, your bare breasts on display.  Your hands trailed up your own body, smiling saucily at Benny as you cupped your own breasts, chewing on your lower lip, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you ran your hands back down to rest on the elastic of your cotton panties, careful to pull one side down and pull it right back up, giggling softly as you watched Benny’s wolfish grin turn into a scowl.  He stepped closer to you and you put your hands up.

“Not yet, Benny-boy…”

He groaned at the nickname you gave him as you continued to laugh.

“Get on with it, Buffy…”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. Leave it to Benny to binge-watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“I can always put more clothing on…”

“Now tha’ would be a tragedy upon all mankind, darlin’…”

You let out a loud laugh as you turned around, facing away from him, continuing to sway your hips as your fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, slowly bringing them down past the swell of your ass, bending over as you let them pool around your ankles before stepping out of them.

And I can tell by the way you walk that walk And I can hear by the way you talk that talk And I can know by the way you treat your girl That I could give you all the loving in the whole wide world

All I want you to do is to bake your bread Just to make sure that you’re well fed I don’t want you sad and blue And I just wanna make love to you

Love to you, ooohooo Love to you, oooh

He was on you in an instant.  He pressed himself against your bare ass, bracing yourself against the washing machine as you could hear him growling in your ear.

“I can’t take it anymore, shug.  Need ya right here, right now…”

You moaned breathlessly as he continued to grind against you, your knuckles going white from the sensation.   You could hear him rustling with the buckle of his belt, the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled down, and finally hearing his pants pool around his ankles.  One of his hands pawed at your ass, the other cupping your mound, caressing at your folds.

“B-benny, please, need you…”

You could practically hear him smiling as he rubbed against your entrance, taking in a sharp air of breath.

“You already wet for me, darlin’?  That lil’ show of yers really put ya in the mood, huh?  Turning yerself on like dat, lil’ baby?  Lemme give ya what ya need.”

With that he slid into you, your breasts pressed hard against the cold metal of the washing machine, which had just gone into the spin cycle.  You let out a loud groan as the vibrations rocked through you as Benny thrust into you harder, the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the sound of the machine muffling your pleasured cries.  He let out a loud grunt before pulling out of you, much to your dismay before turning you around, pressing his lips to yours hard as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.  He pushed you against the machine as he entered you again, continuing to thrust into you as he claimed your mouth with his.  Your hands went to his hair, holding on tightly

“Thas’it lil’ baby, give it to me…give it ol’ Benny…want dat lil’ pussy…”

You nearly exploded, his drawl nearly making you combust as you felt yourself tighten around him, gripping his cock hard inside of you as you started to cum, closing your eyes tightly as he thrust into you, following you soon after.

And I can tell by the way you walk that walk And I can hear by the way you talk that talk And I can know by the way you treat your girl That I could give you all the loving in the whole wide world

Oh, all I wanna do, all I wanna do is cook your bread Just to make sure that you’re well fed I don’t want you sad and blue And I just wanna make love to you

Love to you, ooohooo Real love to you, ooohooo Love to you, ooohooo

Benny lifted you up, settling you on top of the washing machine as it finished its cycle.  He pressed his lips to yours again, hands running up and down your back as he calmed the both of you down.  It felt absolutely perfect to kiss him, like your lips were meant for his.  You could live in this moment forever. The both of you jumped as the buzzer for the dryer went off, signaling that your sheets and bed linens were ready.  Benny chuckled as he grabbed them out of the dryer, wrapping you in them as he carried you off to the bedroom.  As he threw you on the bed, he grinned, predatorily crawling up the end of the bed to hover over your naked form.

“S’no point in havin’ clean sheets if ya don’t get’em dirty again…”

You laughed.  I will never finish this laundry ever.  Your thoughts were interrupted however by the glorious burn of Benny’s stubble rubbing at your neck.

Who needs clean clothes anyway?

[jessahmewren]

Dear smut wife! Here we go again! I'd love some poly!Queen smut with some somnophilia and laundry! You know what to do! Please and thank you

Hello love!  It would be my honor to fulfill your request!  The title of this one is “I’m Only Sleeping.” and it’s also on Ao3!  I hope you enjoy!

With love, wifey 

-0-0-0-

“How does this work again, darling?” 

Freddie had a basket of laundry under his arm, one hip popped out to balance it.

“I think you twist this knob…like this,” John interjected, thrusting an arm forward to fiddle with the machine. 

Roger hefted his own basket onto the work table, cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, where Brian sat swinging his legs off the edge.  “You put the powder in first,” Roger spoke around it.  He grabbed the cigarette just before it slipped from his mouth, taking a long drag from it. 

Hazel eyes caught his.  “I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke in here,” Brian said softly. 

Roger just smiled and stepped between those long legs, holding his breath until he pressed his lips to Brian’s, shotgunning the smoke.  Brian coughed, his eyes watering.  “Fuck it, Bri,” Roger said lazily.  “It’s Saturday night and there’s not a soul in this place.”  He offered the cigarette to Brian, but he waved it off.

“Is someone going to help me with this bloody machine?” Freddie whined. 

John slipped an arm around his waist.  “We need quarters, babe.  Who’s got the change?”

Roger withdrew a soup can from his basket, giving it a dramatic little shake.  “John, you do the honors.” 

John fed the machine the right amount of money, and pushed in the lever.  Magically, the water started flowing.  “It’s about bloody time,” Brian groused. 

John whipped his head around as Freddie fed clothes into the washer. “I don’t see you doing anything.” 

Brian’s mouth fell open, and he clutched the stack of books he had brought with him protectively.  “I can’t.  You know I’ve got an exam tomorrow.  I’ve got to bone up.” 

 John took in the bags under his eyes and his bedraggled appearance.  “Take a break love.  At least help me sort the clothes.” 

Brian stuttered, looking torn.  “I really need to study,” he said.

John threw a dirty shirt at him, smacking him upside the head.  “Suit yourself.” 

Roger giggled, grabbing the shirt where it fell on the table and crossing to the washer.  He handed John the washing powders from the basket he had brought, and the three boys closed the lid on their first successful load. 

–

The dryer hadn’t been any easier to figure out, but once they had, piles of warm, soft, freshly laundered clothes were landing all around Brian on the work table.  The smell and the heat wafting up from them was almost intoxicating, not to mention the steady whir of the machines filling the air…it was enough to lull him into a sort of peaceful relaxation, an almost dreamlike state. 

The boys had been so wrapped up in their laundry duties, they hadn’t noticed how quiet Brian had become.  Then, one of his heavy books slid off his lap, hitting the floor with a loud crash. 

They simultaneously turned around to find the curly-haired brunet fast asleep in the piles of warm, fresh laundry. 

“Would you look at that,” Freddie said, a tinge of awe painting his voice. 

They approached the table to look down on him.  John smiled.  “Told him he was working too hard.” 

Roger smirked, light fingers tracing Brian’s partial erection.  “Those warm clothes must feel good,” he said, fingers stopping at the button on Brian’s trousers.  A flick of the wrist and it was popped.  Brian didn’t even stir. 

Roger looked up at Freddie and John, his tan face carrying a high flush.  “What if I have a little fun with Bri?  Looks like he’s a step or two ahead of me.” 

John linked hands with Freddie.  “We’ll play, too.  I’ve been dying to try that spin cycle.” 

Freddie groaned, his cock immediately showing interest.  “That’s gonna cost extra quarters,” he said, squeezing John’s hand.

John smiled. “You’re worth it, you tart.” 

Roger had Brian’s trousers worked off by now, and he was starting on his pants when Brian stirred a little in his sleep…just a little…head pressed into his arm, nuzzling softly.  Roger wanted him so badly he was bursting with it, but he had to be careful not to wake him.  He slid his pants down, Brian’s half-hard cock springing free.  Roger’s mouth began to water just looking at him, spread out and vulnerable, so beautiful for him.  He licked his lips before sinking down on his length, feeling Brian squirm and twitch in his sleep. 

Brian’s cock began to fill out and harden for him, and Roger preened at the answering moan he got when he licked the sensitive head.  That’s right, thought Roger, you’re having the best wet dream of your life, Bri.  Just don’t wake up. 

John pressed Freddie up against the smooth surface of the washer, the gentle undulations of the machine gyrating against his body, rocking his hips back against John’s cock.  They were both still fully clothed, but he could feel the urgent press of the other man against him. 

“You make me so crazy,” John uttered against Freddie’s neck.  “Gonna fill you up nice and tight like you deserve.” 

“Yesss,” Freddie hissed as he bared his throat to John, letting his whole body go over the washer and just riding its natural movements. 

Roger called to John.  “Will you pass me the lube?”

John blinked.  “Wait, we have lube?” 

“Yeah,” Roger replied.  “I always have lube.  Lube and cigarettes.  It’s in the basket.” 

John looked and sure enough, there it was next to Roger’s Marlboros.  Bless.  He passed it to him, then kept it for himself, but not before giving Roger a long, lingering kiss.  “I have no doubt I’m with the right men.” 

Roger smiled. “I love you to John.”

Roger lubed his fingers, warming them carefully so as to not startle Brian awake.  Brian’s hips just happened to be canted on a warm pile of clothes, giving Roger excellent access to his bum.  He spread his cheeks experimentally, keeping his eyes on the sleeping beauty. 

John was two fingers deep in Freddie, the rhythm of the washing machine keeping time with movement of his wrists.  Freddie was gasping, clinging to the sides of the washer for dear life and thrusting back onto John’s fingers, already wanting more.  But John was distracted.  He kept stealing little glances over his shoulder at Roger and Brian, at the sleeping man and Roger’s steady fingers.  He was entranced. 

“Please,” Freddie whined, and it snapped him back to the present.  John was red-faced, but not from his own desire.  He watched Roger slip a finger into Brian…watched the curls around his face stir a little in his sleep as he moaned softly, and he gave Freddie that third finger he’d been gagging for…gave it to him roughly, right over his prostate.

Freddie keened, his cries echoing loudly in the open space, and John clamped a hand over his mouth.  “Shhh, you’re going to wake Brian,” he said as he opened him up.  Three fingers and he was clamping around him, rutting into the front of the machine.  “You like that huh? Like me stretching you out?”  He was draped roughly over Freddie, one hand steadying himself on the machine.  “You want a little more?   Can you take a little more baby, or you do you want my cock?” 

Freddie was breathless, letting the vibrations rumble though him.  “Give me more,” he stammered out.  “Wanna come like this.  Just like this.”

John smiled as he poured more lube onto his hand and let his pinky finger slip inside. 

Behind them, Roger was teasing Brian’s rim with delicate, quiet motions, watching the man with a soft expression of wonder.  He let his middle finger slip inside, then he quickly withdrew it, afraid he would wake him.  He repeated this action many times until he felt Brian was open and ready enough for a second finger.  When he slipped it in, Brian’s legs twitched a little, cock still hard from Roger’s ministrations.  Roger bent and gave it a little kiss. 

Brian moaned, moving his head from side to side.  The rush Roger felt was unlike any he had ever experienced…not in sex or fast cars or performing…this slow edging of Brian while he was just on the verge of wakefulness was like nothing he had ever done before, and he was slowly becoming addicted to it.  The next thing he did could wake him up or bring him more sleepy pleasure.  The risk was the reward. 

Roger took the risk, slowly moving the fingers inside of him, carefully opening him up.  Brian didn’t stir at first, simply moved his mouth a little.  He was so beautiful when he was sleeping…those graceful fingers curled near his face, that kissable mouth slightly agape.  Roger wanted to suck marks up and down that long neck and thoroughly wreck him, but that would have to wait.  Right now Brian was a sleeping angel, and he was just a devil stealing feathers from his wings. 

“You want the rest baby?” 

Freddie had a white-knuckle grip on the side of the machine as it spun out, his whole body shaking under John’s hand.  “Push it in,” he whispered.  Tears were streaming down his face, and he felt blissfully out of control. 

Freddie had taken his fist before, but he still eased his hand inside of him before thrusting gently.  Freddie felt so good around him…so hot and incredibly tight, that he almost wished it was his cock Freddie was locked around instead of half of his arm, but the way Freddie was wrecked beneath him, tears and sweat mixing on his pretty face, made it all worth it. 

John looked back at Roger and Brian.  Roger was cleaning him up with a freshly laundered towel and replacing his pants.  Brian was still fast asleep, curled on his side now in the laundry pile, a sweet blush to his cheeks.  John’s eyes watered, something hollow aching in his chest. 

–

They made it back from the Fluff ‘n Fold around 11pm, baskets of freshly laundered clothes just needing to be put away.  They each set a basket down on the couch and vowed they would do it in the morning. 

They got cleaned up for bed, finally having fresh pajamas to wear now that the wash was done, and climbed into bed. 

John lay awake for a long time before finally rolling over to nudge Rodger. 

“Rog.” 

Roger rolled over to stroke the hair away from his face.  “What is it babe?” 

“I can’t sleep.  I keep thinking about you and Brian tonight.” 

Roger smiled.  “Oh. That.” 

John nodded, his face growing hot.  “Yeah.”  He swallowed.  “Do you think you could do something like that to me?” 

Roger sat up a little in bed.  “Why yeah Deaky.  If that’s what you want.  “I’ll talk to the boys, see if they’re up for it.” 

“What are you two whispering about,” Freddie grumbled.  “It’s awfully late.” 

“It’s not that late, you old fart,” Roger teased.  “Plus, it’s Saturday night.  We should be out clubbing.”

“Too tired,” Freddie said, yawning. 

“Mmm, wonder why?” John said wryly.

He got hit with a pillow, finally waking Brian up. 

“What’s this?” 

“John wants to get fucked in his sleep,” Roger announced.

John buried his face in his hands. 

Freddie soothed a hand down his back.  “Darling, I think it’s lovely.  Like Sleeping Beauty.”

“She was never fucked though, just kissed,” Brian interjected. 

“Same difference,” Roger said. 

“Anyway, we’re gonna help our boy out as soon as he goes to sleep, so let’s get him nice and comfortable, yeah?”

“I’ll get you some warm milk!” Freddie said excitedly. 

“Do you need some extra blankets?” Brian inquired.

John frowned.  “No, I don’t need all of this fuss.  Just come here.” 

The boys crowded around him, lying down in their usual positions.  They lay next to him and turned out the light.  “Just be with me,” John said. 

Roger smiled.  “We can do that.” 

John drifted off around midnight.  Roger lightly stroked his hair while Freddie placed little kisses along his brow, making sure he was in a deep sleep.  The boys smiled down at him. 

He looked so relaxed, lying there against the pillow.  His eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted, making him look even younger.  Roger thumbed over his cheek, feeling the smooth, warm skin beneath his fingers. 

“He’s beautiful,” Brian whispered, something thick in the words. 

Roger nodded, smiling.  “Let’s get started, shall we?  Let’s make our boy happy.” 

Freddie slowly unbuttoned his pajama top, opening the fabric to either side.  He lay his cheek next to the soft downy hair he found there, and the young man’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.  Roger took in a breath.  “God, he’s really something like this, isn’t he?” 

Freddie placed a kiss over his heart.  “I can barely stand it,” he whispered.  “Slip his bottoms off.” 

Brian and Roger made quick work of the bottoms, easing them down his legs without so much of a stir from John.  They slipped a pillow under his hips, elevating his bum. 

Brian eyed John’s cock, already filling out as Freddie placed little kisses down his abdomen.  He exhaled a breath.  “May I?”

Roger nodded. “Of course.  He does look delicious, doesn’t he?” 

Brian was so hesitant to touch him, he even held his breath as he placed a small kiss to the head of his cock.  John didn’t move.  Emboldened, Brian licked the underside, right along a vein, and the young man stretched and moaned in his sleep, his head going back into the pillow.  The sound he made, so pure and unabashed, went straight to Brian’s cock. 

He swallowed him down then, softly sucking on John’s cock, pulling off when John tensed or fussed too much, until Roger moved him away.  “You’re going to wake him up, tiger,” Roger said, chuckling.  “Let’s open him up now.  Freddie, stroke his hair, keep him relaxed.” 

Freddie settled near the pillow and gently stroked John’s hair, the young man easing into the sensation of Freddie’s hands on him.  Roger warmed the lube in his fingers and circled John’s rim.  John whimpered a little, the sweetest little sound, before being calmed and shushed quiet by Freddie’s soothing hands.  When he felt he was ready, Roger slipped in a finger into John’s lush warmth.  His walls contracted immediately, fighting the intrusion, and Roger eased it back out and tried again, this time with much more success. 

Brian hovered over him, his eyes large and full of wonder.  He was breathing heavily and aching to touch, to feel, to do.  He leaned over Roger, his fingers flexing.  “May I try?”

Roger’s mouth quirked.  “Sure baby.  Just go easy.”

Brian lubed his fingers, warming them before easing one in.  The slender digit went in smoothly, settling itself against John’s walls. He looked up to see a half smile on John’s face, a look of utter contentment. 

He worked the finger inside of John for a while, slipping against his tight heat and along the edge of his rim before sliding in another.  The young man moaned, tensing against his hands, but Freddie was there to soothe him so he didn’t wake up. 

Sliding those two fingers into John while he was so limp and pliant was like dipping into pure heaven.  Brian had never felt anything so satisfying.  John didn’t rut against him or thrash around, he just took it, and there was something about it that just set fire to Brian’s blood. 

Brian looked up shyly at Roger.  “Can we fuck him like this?”

Roger laughed.  “Maybe.  He’ll wake up though.  But what a way to wake up.”  Roger lit a cigarette and took a long drag off of it.  “Give him another finger and we’ll fuck him awake.” 

Freddie smiled, reaching down to kiss the half open lips.  John never stirred.  Brian slipped another finger in, and John grunted, hands going up to his face. 

“Oh, you’ve gone and done it now, Mr. May.  You’ve gotten too ambitious,” Roger said, a half smile on his face as he smoked his cigarette on the edge of the bed.

Freddie tried to ease John back to sleep, but he was well on his way to wakefulness now…not fully aware but getting there by the second. 

“If you’re going to fuck him, you better do it now,” Roger said over his shoulder.

Brian had his pants off in seconds.  He lubed himself and pressed home, hoping John was stretched enough.  It was worth it all, though, when John’s lovely eyes flew open and he realized where he was…at home in bed suddenly stuffed full of cock. 

“Hi darling,” Freddie cooed as he looked down on John.  “Good morning.  I mean, it’s morning by now.”

Freddie’s charming smile only grew as he ran a hand over John’s chest, teasing his nipples. “You look so pretty like this.  Are you having a good time?” 

John moaned, his legs hitching up against Brian’s waist.  “Yes, very much,” he managed to get out as Brian pounded into him.

Roger had finished his cigarette by now, and he crawled over the bed to wrap a hand around John’s cock.  “Need a hand with that sweetheart?” 

John whined loudly as Roger’s calloused hands worked his cock in time with Brian’s thrusts.  “How—how long was I asleep?” 

Roger laughed.  “Long enough for us to get this far, love.”

Brian grunted as he thrust into him, hips slapping against the back of his thighs.  “I’m not going to last,” he ground out.  “You close baby?” 

“Yeah,” John breathed as Roger sped up his hand on his cock.  John could feel the charged heat low in his belly, the electricity sizzling just beneath his skin threatening to escape at any moment. 

Brian tensed, screaming out his release as he collapsed over him.  Moments later John was coming, sending hot ropes of spend over his belly and Roger’s hand.  Roger smiled, licking his fingers as Brian cuddled up beside John.  Freddie pulled Roger into a deep kiss, tasting John on his lips. 

“What are we going to do with these boys,” Freddie purred into Roger’s mouth, a hand going down to wrap around his cock.    

Roger kissed him back, humming contentedly. 

“That was bloody terrific,” John said, a stupid grin on his face.  “Thank you boys.” 

Roger grinned.  “Don’t thank us love.  You were wonderful.” 

Brian caressed John’s face.  “It was so amazing.  You know, I might like to try that sleeping thing myself.  I’m rather fascinated by it.” 

Roger just looked at John and smiled.

-0-0-0-

[the-writerly-night-owl]

Change in the Air

Open Heart/MC x Ethan Ramsey 

Summary: Another run in with her leaves Ethan Ramsey and Clarissa’s relationship room to grow. 

Authors Note: This is set after my story called “An Unconventional Meeting” but there’s only one reference to it just as a heads up. Also a suggestion from @radlovedreamer. I wanna know, should I write the smut/rated m follow up my last story where Ethan kisses her? 

Taking a breath, Ethan Ramsey started toward the laundromat, it had been a long day. He really wished his apartment buildings had not flooded leaving him to find the nearest to the hospital. First find a cart and just sort out the laundry keeping himself from getting distracted. After finding said cart and securing a washer and a dryer at the end of the row did he find his borrowed library book. It was a historical nonfiction about a courtesan to Marc Antony and Julius Caesar seeking revenge. Well the book claimed to be historical nonfiction but never the less he was enjoying it.

It wasn’t until about halfway through the spin cycle did he notice that he was being watched.

“Well it appears that I’ve found the elusive doctor Ramsey in the wild. Doing his laundry,” said a voice as he looked up.

Across the way from his own was Doctor Clarissa Sinclaire as she grinned at him a small grin on her face. Small world running into her here at the laundromat of all places. Then awkwardly she pointed to a machine adding, “Do you know if this one is taken?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he said before looking down at his book.

She nodded before starting to load up the free washer not even paying him any mind. Curious Ethan watched her wondering what she was doing. She had thrown everything except a few nondescript pieces of said laundry into the wash. Turned it to cold and let it run after sticking a tide pod in. That was a different way of doing it.

Clarissa didn’t even look up at him before taking out a book of her own. Curious he tried to get a good look at it. Of course, a cheesy romance book with a sunset on the cover. The two were quiet as they let the washer run.

Until finally she couldn’t take it her green eyes peering at him.

“Doesn’t your apartment have a laundry room?” she asked a bit abruptly. Right, she had seen his apartment before and could probably guess that they’d have the full services. Ethan looked up at her and to his surprise she had a deep flush on her face as she pushed her hair back from her face.

“Yea, it flooded and now everyone is trying to get their laundry done somewhere,” he said a bit off handedly. “What about yours?”

“Huh?” She was fanning herself with her book about something or another. “Uh unfortunately, no, I’ve been coming here since I moved here.”

Now even more curious he turned his head trying to figure her out. He had his mind off her once and could do it again. Her flush seemed to have finally reduced as he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you okay your face…”

“It’s nothing, there was a rather, uh, steamy scene in my book.”

Of course there was, he thought, not sure what to say. He went back to his book reading about her guard a man named Syphax. Clarissa turning another page of her book. It had remained quiet between them as other patrons came and went from the laundromat. Unfortunately, Ethan had too many clothes that he had to wash. Which also seemed to be the same for Clarissa.

That was when he noticed that she was watching everyone else too. Her book closed and phone in hand texting someone and giggling about it. Part of him wanted to see what it was and the other part paying attention to his book. The only way to do laundry was to wait it out.

Then there was the beep of the machine anyway that startled both. Their washers went off before going to change the load and… Wait, he thought, looking around for some more quarters. No, he only had the four!? Clarissa already had her dryer running as she looked at him with a soft smile. Things were a little awkward between them for some reason right now.

“Do you need more quarters?” she asked pulling out a bag with change in it.

“Thanks, I owe you Doctor Sinclaire.” Clarissa made her way to his machine and slid the change in. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I…”

“No, I don’t need money. I have something else that I want instead.”

The tone in her voice a little flirty and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but did her voice change? With that his eyebrows shot up wondering what else she would want. His mind shouldn’t have gone to straight something beyond friendship but something in him shifted. Clarissa only looked a little amused as she shook her head a little bit.

“Listen I just want us to get along. Since I’m helping you with Doctor Banerji I figured why don’t we start as friends. Like it or not I am your friend. We could get to know each other.”

Right friend. Part of him didn’t want to just be her friend. He wasn’t sure if that was just lust talking to not because clearly, he was imagining that tone in her voice change. He was happy to hear that she wanted to get closer on a personal level, although he’d never admit that out loud. Instead his blue eyes looking her up and down just as amused as her.

“You’re my friend,’ he said with a sigh admittedly a little dejected. The grin on his face was a giveaway however to mask any other feelings he might have. “What do you want to know?”

Clarissa thought about it for a minute before having something. “You said your parents never supported you being a doctor. What did they want you to do?”

Now that was getting a little more personal then he was thinking. “A lawyer.”

“Well you’re pretty stubborn. You can ask me anything if you want if you like.” She put the next load into the wash as he thought of something himself. Clarissa glanced down at his laundry as she laughed some before he hurriedly starting his next load after starting the dryer. She had to see his boxers.

“Do you treat all your friends like this?”

“Tease them? Yep, you should hear the thing that I say to my brother.”

“The one that has the kid that likes cake?”

“That’s the one.”

He thought back to the day that he ran into her with Ines, Zaid, and Harper. He brushed his hand against the washing machine as it felt cool against his skin. Clarissa had reached down to put her change back in her purse as he couldn’t help but admire the view. She had a nice round bottom, almost like an apple. Shut up, he thought, clearing his mind. He liked her because she saw him as a person. Part of him did have to admit that he was starting to feel sexually attracted to her.

She stood up taking in the curve of her back wondering what it might be like to touch her. Ethan took in a breath and let it out thinking of a new question to ask her. They exchanged a few more revealing little by little but not too much. It was nice to have someone to talk to about Dr. Banerji with.

“Doctor Ramsey. Listen there’s something that’s been bugging me a little since I’ve started to help you...” He nodded at her to continue as she bit her bottom lip. She was nervous about something. “I felt really bad about not being able to do much to make you feel better with Doctor Banerji and how you really don’t have anyone after Dolores. You looked so sad… and… what I’m trying to say is that can I give you a hug?”

She just wanted to hug him?  Since they weren’t exactly at the hospital, on the clock, and nobody they really knew was around he supposed it was okay. The professional part of him said no but he found his head nodding.

Clarissa stepped closer to him already feeling a warmth that she radiated. Her arms slide around his torso in a comforting embrace. Smiling down at her his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Her chest pressed against his and her face just over his shoulder. She felt soft and the shampoo she used smelled like wildflowers, it was perfect. It would only get better if he kissed her. He didn’t want her hug end before she pulled away.

“Thank you for letting me do that.”

“Thank you, it felt nice.” Ethan’s smile on his face as she smiled back at him. “I have a request for you now.” Her green eyes blinked up at him before tugging at his shirt. Maybe this request wasn’t appropriate but he could put a restriction on it. “If we’re ever out of the hospital like this or alone, I wouldn’t get too upset if you called me Ethan.”

“You want me to call you by your first name more?” Her face changed as he noticed her features softened as she nodding. “Okay Ethan, you the permission to do the same with me.”

The washing machine went off before him before turning attention to it. It was going to take some getting used to as Clarissa found her change again for the machine. Ethan Ramsey couldn’t help it but admit it to himself. He was kind of excited.

Tag list: @queen-among-writers @flyawayboo @symonde @fluffy-cat-whisper @countrymusicandncis-blog @am-i-invisible777 @elainew13 @paisleylovergirl @brightpinkpeppercorn @universallypizzataco @princess-geek @darley1101 @itsbrindleybinch @mariamulroney @melodyofgraves @radlovedreamer

[franklyshipping]

Warmth in All Places ~ A Markiplier and Jacksepticeye Ego Fanfic

A REALLY REALLY CUTE ANON PROMPT THAT I'M EXCITED TO WRITE BECAUSE IT'S LEE ROBBIE AND THAT ALWAYS MEANS INFINATE CUTENESS PLUS I KINDA WANNA WRITE A CARING HOST!!! LETS GET THIS HECKIN GOIINNGG!!!

TAGGING: @robbie-lee-zombie and @thehostofleetrature

Never in your life will you have a greater urge to be a mother hen than right now, I guarantee it. Make no mistake, to be a mother hen is not gender identity orientated, it is a state of mind, a vocation, a calling from the depths of your soul that you just cannot ignore when it arises. Like now....when you realise that the sweet Robbie the Zombie is shivering and cold and by himself in the kitchen, dripping rainwater on the floor as he stands still, not daring to move for fear of making a mess, not daring to call out to anyone for help for fear of reprimandment. So he stood there, his wet matted hair sticking to the back of his neck as his sodden jumper clung to his bare skin....it was unpleasant to say the least. Don't fear though, do not fret, because someone was to come to Robbie's aid on this cold day. A man, initially, in search of a snack.

The Host was having a casual craving for savoury, salty foods as obsessive workaholic writers do....until he came across Robbie, shivering and sopping wet and meekly hunched to try and hide how ashamed he felt about making a mess. But that was FARTHEST from the Host's mind. The mother hen had kicked in.

'Oh Robbie, Robbie are you hurt? Did you hurt yourself in the rain?'

That was the first thing the Host had to establish, and he let out a thankful sigh of relief when Robbie shook his head; but pangs resounded in his chest when Robbie shakily mumbled.

'R-R-Robb-bie s-sorry....f-....f-for mess....'

The Host immediately enveloped the shakily stuttering boy in the warmest hug he could muster, and immediately whispered reassuringly.

'Shh, shh, that doesn't matter, that never matters. All that matters is helping you, getting you warm and dry and feeling better....will you let me help you with that?'

The Host's warm voice washed over Robbie, and Robbie just couldn't bring himself to say no. He knew deep down that when Host said he cared, he meant it, and besides Robbie had always felt safe with the Host, so he nodded shakily.

'O-Okay...'

The Host let out a soft, relieved sigh because he was so happy that Robbie was letting him help him; the Host knew how difficult it could be to accept assistance. He kept Robbie in a half embrace as he murmured to the smaller boy.

'Okay, okay is a really good start. We're going to go to the laundry room, yeah? And then we'll take it from there....'

Robbie nodded and allowed Host to lead him. Host was going to go about saying things in stages because the last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm the poor zombie, especially given the state that he was in. When they arrived, Robbie immediately gasped at the new, intense warmth that was contained in the room; he could already feel it washing over him, somehow even through his sodden clothes.

'Mmm, warmmm....'

He murmured, looking up at Host was a slightly dazed smile. But a smile was a smile and the Host was overjoyed at perceiving it.

'This is a warm room isn't it? Sometimes I sneak in and read on the floor in the corner, but don't tell anyone!'

Host whispered dramatically, which made Robbie giggle and scrunch his face into a happy smile; he nodded as he replied with a very adorable hint of giddiness.

'Promise, promise!'

The Host chuckled and ruffled Robbie's hair before facing him properly.

'Now then, lets get you dry, arms up if you please.'

Robbie raised his arms high above his head with a grin, and the Host thought his heart might melt when he heard Robbie giggling his little heart out whilst his soaked jumper and t-shirt were pulled off. When the clothing was off, the Host realised that Robbie's lazy jogging pants had already dried off, and were keeping Robbie's legs nice and warm as the heat in the room made Robbie purr as he felt it on his skin properly.

'Sooo waarrmmm....'

The Host chuckled and let Robbie relish in the new comfort, meanwhile he put the wet clothes in one of the dryers and set it off on its cycle; next he set about trying to find a jumper for Robbie to borrow.

'Robbie, do you want a thick jumper or a thinner one?'

.....there was no response from the little zombie.

'Robbie?'

The Host furrowed his eyebrows and turned around, perceptive vision in full use.....and he was overcome....by cuteness. Robbie was sat cross legged on the floor in front of the dryer that his clothes were in, and he was watching the active cycle in utterly pure awe. Watching the clothes go round and round and round and round over and over again as he smiled and gasped in delight, he was practically hypnotised. Now knowing he would DEFINATELY get no definitive replies from the zombie, the Host decided to join him on the floor, cross-legged, and relaxed. All that could be heard was the whirring of the machine, the spin, and the occasional muffled 'thawumf' of clothing being tossed in the dryer.

Just when the Host thought Robbie was beyond the earthly realms of cuteness....he became even cuter. The zombie had rested his head on the Host's shoulder and was curling his body towards his, to which the Host instinctively responded to by curling an arm round his side affectionately. The Host however, did not perceive the dryer along with Robbie; he perceived Robbie. The zombie seemed so entranced, and the Host started to wonder what it would take to get his attention, since he already knew that talking to him wouldn't work. It was a conundrum, and the Host loved conundrums. As he thought to himself, his fingertips absently traced over a section of stitching that ran under Robbie's ribcage.....and the zombie flinched.

The Host paused....it may have been a small reaction, but he picked up on it alright, so he kept softly tracing the stitched area. Robbie's body was covered in stitching, round his armpits, knees, a few of his toes, his neck, hands, but it was strange stitching. Unlike normal stitching which is slightly wiry and uncomfortable, this stitching was soft like silk....and seemed more like it was part of Robbie's body rather than an external component, so no-one ever interfered with it; Robbie never said he was in discomfort, so everyone just saw it as a part of him. The Host himself had never touched the stitching before, since he'd never been in a situation for it to be probable. Until now.

'You okay there Robbie?'

The Host whispered, cocking his head to the side with an innocent smile....but he was given no response. Robbie wasn't entirely stoic however, for the Host managed to detect that the temperature of his cheeks rose just that little bit, which solidified the Host's playful intent. He'd get Robbie's attention, one way or another. The line of stitching that the Host followed was a line that curved beneath one side of his ribcage, went up the back of his ribs, before curving once more right beneath his hollow and around his shoulder joint. The Host decided to follow it.

'Can you feel this Robbie?'

The Host whispered with a smile as he traced gently up the stitching. I should be clear, the touches weren't hurting Robbie....they were tickling him. The tender skin around the stitches at his body was incredibly sensitive, which meant that Robbie's tumble-dryer trance had broken as soon as the Host had brushed his fingers against his skin. All Robbie was doing now was trying not to react so that Host wouldn't be tempted to keep going. It seemed that Robbie's plan had already failed however.

'H-H-Hostyyy.....'

They Host playfully gasped, which made Robbie's trembling lips spread into a flustered smile as the zombie squirmed nervously.

'So you can still hear me then? Interesting....were you ignoring me before?'

The Host's voice dimmed into a growl, making Robbie squeak as the Host's fingers seemed to quicken with their fluttering....and thus the giggles began.

'N-Nohoho....R-Rohobbie n-nohot hear.....'

Robbie bowed his head as he straightened up reflexively, giggling softly and sweetly as he tried to hide more in the Host's shoulder. The Host grinned adoringly, loving how he wasn't even daring to move away from him.

'Didn't you? Hmmm....that doesn't seem quite right to me....'

The Host followed the trail of stitches further up the zombie's ribs, softly scratching as Robbie got more and more flustered the more that the Host tickled him. The little zombie squeaked into the Host's shoulder as he got goose-bumps all over his skin, whilst still clinging to his little white lie.

'Ihihit ihihis rihihight! Hohohosty nahaha!'

The Host let out a soft, disbelieving hum....which Robbie ended up interrupting. Just as the Host's fingers were about to traverse higher, Robbie shoved the Host mid-hum. It was by no means harsh, since the Host barely even lost his balance....but that didn't mean he wasn't going to make Robbie pay dearly for it. The Host froze, making Robbie gulp. For a moment, Robbie thought he'd genuinely annoyed the Host, but he was soon disabused of that notion when the Host pinned him to the ground in one swift movement. The swift, effortlessness of his movements made him seem like phantom or a ghost, his coat swishing behind him as he straddled Robbie's legs and used a single hand to pin his wrists above his head. This was about justice now.

'I'll teach you not to fight back against the tickle monster!'

The Host growled, smirking down at Robbie who was downright shocked because since WHEN did the ever stoic Host do blatantly playful things like this? Robbie squirmed with a whine, eyes widening as he broke out into hysterical, squealing giggles. Host was skittering at the stitched skin under his hollow mercilessly, and as if that wasn't enough, Robbie couldn't get over how Host had called himself the tickle monster.

'NOHOHO NOHO MAHANSTAHAH! NAHAT REHEHEAL!'

Robbie exclaimed adamantly, to which the Host gasped, feeling most offended.

'First you shove the tickle monster, and then you QUESTION the tickle monster? You've got quite the attitude....'

Robbie snorted when the Host administered a few scratches to the centre of his hollow before going back to the stitching with his unbearable blunt nails, all the while Robbie wildly shook his head. He was grinning up at the Host, unable to hide the part of him that was really actually enjoying the playfulness.

'YOHOHOU MEHEHEANIE!'

The Host raised an eyebrow at the meek insult, before smirking as he glimpsed into Robbie's mind, seeing how much fun he was having. The Host reasoned with himself that it would be rude to stop now if Robbie was loving it so much, if anything, he would be being kind if he were to up the ante. He pursed his lips, and started to really loom over Robbie, easing off his tickling a little.

'Ohohhh, you think this is mean little boy?'

Robbie whimpering, feeling far too nervous to reply as he caught his breath, or tried too. Countless chills were running down his spine at how terrifying the Host was, how powerful he was, the endless things he could do. Lucky for Robbie, the Host was going to grant him a little taste of what he was capable of.

'I'll show you mean....'

The Host whispered, before continuing the tickling....and taking a deep, warm breath.

'Robbie the Zombie was giggling so cutely and hysterically from the fluttery, scratchy tickles that the Host was giving to the stitching beneath his right underarm....and now, Robbie would be able to feel that sensation at the stitching of his left underarm too....without the Host even having to touch him there.'

Robbie let out a screech. This was so evil. He'd already descended back into giggles....but now he was laughing his sweet little heart out. Why? Because....Host had narrated. Meaning, that is power over reality was being utilised, and the Host was bringing what he said to life. So, the sensations that Host had described....Robbie now felt, in excellent detail.

'NAHAHAHAHHH NAHAT FAHAHAIR NAHAT FAHAHAIR!!'

It felt like there were two hands at work at his ticklish stitching, ten wiggling fingers, ten blunt nails. It was legitimate torture. Plus, the magical sensations had this added after-tingling effect that reverberated throughout Robbie's whole body, and that was just enough for him to be wriggling about constantly. The Host meanwhile, was chuckling at his handiwork, and cooing.

'Does it tickle, hmm? How bad does it tickle the tickle monster's prey?'

Robbie's cheeks were bright and warm with embarrassment, the Host's words making him feel so small and weak and he realised how he was truly caught in the Host's tickly clutches. Or rather, the tickly clutches of the tickle monster.

'SOHOHO BAHAHAD AHAHAH MEHEHERCY!'

Tears were building in the corners of Robbie's eyes as he arched his back and tugged at his limbs, feeling like insects were invading his sensitive armpits and all his little vulnerable spots. He was definitely close to breaking. The Host, of course, wanted to throw in one last little taunt.

'Ah, ah, ah, manners my little prey-'

'PLEHEHEEEEASE TIHIHICKLE MAHANSTAH!'

The Host's lips spread into a smirk of such ferality and malevolence that even Antisepticeye would have recoiled in its wake; this time however, it preceded mercy. With a few swift murmurs, both the magical and natural tickling were no more, and the Host was quick to hug Robbie to his chest as he sniffled and giggled residually.

'There's a good boy....'

The Host crooned with a grin, snickering when Robbie whined and let out a few muffled giggles.

'Sh-shuhuhush....'

The Host gasped, then buried his face in Robbie's neck with a playful little growl.

'What was that?'

Robbie squeaked, tittering softly after having recovered, as he squirmed in the cuddle, smiling widely.

'N-Nothing!'

There was a pause...hen Robbie squealed with joy when The Host lay on top of him and gentle nuzzled his neck, exclaiming with a series of little growls and snarls; he still had some playfulness left in him....and Robbie wasn't going to complain.

'.....you little liar!'

They both giggled as Robbie wiggled and Host nuzzled, relishing in the warmth and the softness and the playfulness of it all. Robbie exclaimed giddily as he softly clawed at the Host's chest.

'T-Tihihickles Hohohohosty!'

The Host grinned, not just from Robbie's words but also just from how utterly cute Robbie was being. The Host honestly thought that if he spent this much time with Robbie every day then he'd never find it in his heart to be intimidating or scary ever again, his cuteness was just that beautiful and powerful. The Host was still able to be sarcastic though, there was no way that THAT would ever go away.

'Good for you.'

The Host rose away from Robbie's neck with a smug grin, chuckling when Robbie whined in embarrassment and hurried to hide in the Host's warm haven of a coat.

'Nuhuhuuuhhhh....'

As Robbie snuggled, the Host's breath hitched....and he let out a few titters of his own as Robbie snuggled dangerously close to his underarm.

'Hehey, you cohome out of there giggles!'

Robbie froze...vacating the coat with wide yes, gasping as he looked up at Host, mind processing....then he whispered with a growing smile and twinkling eyes.

'.....Hosty....tickl-'

'Don't even go there....'

The Host growled softly, which made Robbie squeak and blush and drop the subject, for now at least. But before they could go back to some form of cuddling, Robbie squeaked once again with a little jump; this time it was because the dryer had beeped to signal the end of its cycle. The Host grinned at Robbie adoringly.

'Want to get nice and snuggled?'

Robbie immediately nodded, and soon enough the Host had helped get Robbie into his comfy, dry clothes, before proceeding to carry him to a haven of blankets and warmth for the comfiest cuddle time that either of them could have possibly hoped for; all the while, the Host smiled to himself at how this cute zombie had already warmed up his heart.

WOOOPPP DONE IT HOPE YOUS LIKE IT I'D LOVE TO KNOW IF YA DID! LOVE YOUS! XX