#jus for trigger tags

[tansypansydandy]

u ever look at an autism post as an audher n be like "well shit that doesnt apply to me fuck what if im not autistic" bc same

[rqnarok]

summary: old man!logan gets grumpy when you tell him that he cannot keep up with you.

cws/tags: smut! mdni. fem!reader. old man!logan. unprotected p in v. logan calls himself ‘old man’. sub!reader. unspecified age gap. reader rides logan. not proofread ofc..

“Why? Afraid you can’t keep up, Old Man?” He’s all grumpy ever since you mutter the playful question. Stopping your trailing wet kisses on his greying beard as he glares down on you, brows furrowed to make an expression that sums up his emotions. 

Logan doesn’t know why he feels irritated by the reminder. After all, you’re right: his stamina and sex drive are nothing compared to you, someone much much younger than him.

Still, he intends to poke at you and make a point. 

Logan decides that he’s not going to do any work tonight because of your underestimation earlier. “If you want it so bad, you do it.” He says.

You’d whine in protest, “Come on, ‘s just a joke, Lo!” Staring at the older man with the best doe-eyes you could form.

“Put those eyes away.”

Because you do want it so bad - you end up straddling him as you ride every inch of his fat cock. 

At first, Logan enjoys the sight of you being undone in front of him, his scruffy beard subtly hiding his smugness.

But fuck. Logan loses it completely when you whisper a question around “Like this?” as you try to fit his large girth of him inside you.

It’s not even the first time you’ve ridden him—but there’s something so sweet in the way you croak those words, your half-lidded eyes glancing up to see him to get his validation; your messy hair and your red-kissed lips. He feels sick for consuming something he does not deserve, to be an old man who can’t keep up.

When you mutter the questions:

Like this? So Meek and pure, everything he’s not;

Is this right? Achingly delicate and eager;

L-Like this, Lo?” Overwhelming drunkness—

Logan loses it more and more until he gives out—facing his defeat in whatever game you and him were playing—and wrapping his arms around your waist, “Yeah,” He replies in a hoarse grunt, “just like that, darlin’.” 

You can feel his hard member twitching inside of your velvet walls and see him shutting his eyes tightly in pleasure. It’s too soon, Logan thinks—too fuckin’ soon to come. Almost embarrassingly as he is proving your point but he cannot help himself, y’know? 

Not when you mutter those questions and trigger him, sending electricity in his adamantium body until he feels like all he’s left is mere his ecstasy, “F-fuck. Takin’ such good care of your old man.”

His thick palms caress the fat of your ass, kneading each plump greedily as he feels you bouncing up and down, up and down—feels his cock drags inside your warm pussy. 

Oh, he knows he should not be enjoying someone so young and innocent being needy of his cock. But he does. He does. And he doesn't care anymore if someone thinks that he’s corrupting you. Maybe he is—but he always takes care of you, always looking over you—now that you’re his. 

You’d ask him again while circling your hips and taking more of him, “Like this, right?” How can you ask him anything like that as if every movement you made doesn't feel like heaven to him?

He hears you hiccup so sweetly, out of breath, as you curl your toes. Logan lets out a deep chuckle as he watches you lose yourself, intoxicated by the feeling of his cock. 

“Good fuckin’ girl. Tha’ right.” He groans, guiding you back down on his length, “S’good, huh, baby?” 

All he gets in return is your familiar little hum and Logan coos,  knows it all too well that he’s hitting all the right spots that turn you non-verbal. 

“Like that, sweetheart. Jus’ like that.” 

Yeah, he can’t keep up, alright. 

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙sickly sweet | OB38/87/whatever˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: ollie bearman x driver!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, new relationship

warnings: very fluffy lol

summary: in which you & your new boyfriend act too sweet online and your friends are extremely overprotective !!!

a/n: ollie is deffo a new one for me lol im not rly a massive fan of writing driver!reader ngl but i did it for u anon pls appreciate <333

request!!!: driver!reader x Ollie bearman just them being sickly in love with one another and the other f1 drivers being protective about y/n

fc: various brunette girls from pinterest

my masterlist

instagram ->

f1updates

liked by user16, user1, user33 and others

f1updates mclaren rookie driver y/n y/l/n seen at a sports game this weekend with f2 driver ollie bearman ♥️

tagged: yourusername, olliebearman

view all comments

user1 are they dating??

user2 yea but it's pretty new i think

user3 omg so cute

user4 awww the way she's looking at him 🥹🥹

user5 TOO CUTEEE

user6 who is he??

user7 f2 driver lol and reserve driver for ferrari & haas

user8 idk who im more jealous of

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, alex_albon, and others

yourusername anyways

view all comments

user9 OMGGG HELLOOO OLLIE

mclaren that better be papaya 👀

yourusername cheating on u with a mango 😕

mclaren 😵

user10 LOL? they are so unserious

landonorris cancel your weekend plans

yourusername excuse u

charles_leclerc we're staging an intervention

yourusername i wont be attending, sorry

maxverstappen1 oh dont worry y/n, we'll come to you 😊

yourusername guys please you cant "stage an intervention" just bc i have a bf now

carlossainz55 sure

user11 HAHAHA FREE HER

user12 ijbol they r so overprotective

alex_albon grid princess

liked by yourusername

olliebearman ♥️🫶

liked by yourusername

georgerussell63 read the room

landonorris 🤨

yourusername ignore them ollie

user13 LOLLLLL

olliebearman posted a story

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, and others

lilymhe cuties

liked by olliebearman

user14 omg im obsessed with u guys

user15 papaya prin 🥹🥹🥹

landonorris delete

carlossainz55 blocked and reported

maxverstappen1 watch your footing

alex_albon stay safe out there

olliebearman 😬😬😬

yourbff posted a story

liked by olliebearman, alex_albon, and others

georgerussell63 not you too

yourbff awwww stop being a loser

charles_leclerc interesting

yourbff UR NOT HER FATHER 😂

user16 OMG GOALS

user17 they r sosososo cute tgthr

user18 i jus know the rest of the grid r spamming ur dm rn

liked by yourbff

lilymhe the boys are so triggered and she dgaf

yourbff they are such little worms! free my baby y/n

f1updates

liked by user18, olliebearman, and others

f1updates mclaren rookie driver y/n y/l/n spotted once again with f2 driver ollie bearman in romantic embrace, out for lunch at a fast food chain with friends during a week long break in the season !

tagged: yourusername, olliebearman

view all comments

user19 my ollieyn heart

user20 ollie liking this omg he's down bad 😭

user21 obsessed with y/n finally noticing ollie when he drove for ferrari this season instead of when they were both in f2

user22 she's real for this

user23 no one can say tht girl isn't all about the racing

user24 lovethemlovethemlovethem

user25 im down bad crying at the gym😭

user26 would kill to see the grid group chat after this dropped 💀

user27 😂 they are so protective of the papaya princess

user28 as they should be tbh

maxverstappen1 not again...

f1updates MAX??!!

user29 what is max doing here 😂

olliebearman oh no.....

user30 screaming

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername 📍 monte-carlo

liked by olliebearman, charles_leclerc, and others

yourusername my first podium in f1 in freaking monaco 🥺 i wanna thank my family and friends, my team and my fellow drivers who made an impossible transition from idols to friends thank u so so much i can't believe this is my life 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

view all comments

olliebearman so proud 🧡

maxverstappen1 will let it slide for today

user31 LOL taking a day off

landonorris smashed it

charles_leclerc so proud! an honour to share the podium with you

alex_albon papaya QUEEN

georgerussell63 never doubted you for a second!

mclaren that's our girl 🧡

user32 eating the right fruit this time 😂

carlossainz55 no one else i'd rather be beaten by 😊

lilymhe my fav girl boss

user33 everyone loves her sm 🥹🥹

user34 so happy for her i cried fr

yourbff my little legend <3

olliebearman

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and others

olliebearman congratulations to our y/n on her first f1 podium so unbelievably proud of you and in awe of everything you do everyday. i love you 🩷

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

user35 OMGGG a whole post for her

user36 screaming this is so so cute

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

liked by olliebearman, yourusername

maxverstappen1 oh

yourusername 🤨?

carlossainz55 this is actually very nice

georgerussell63 ...agree

landonorris 😳

olliebearman no way

yourusername you won them over....

alex_albon FINALLY

user37 scream

user38 hahahaha awww they finally accepted ollie 🙏

user39 obsessed with everything about this omg

user40 I LOVE OLLIEYN

yourusername stop it you'll make me cry!!!! i love you so much i couldn't have done it without you

olliebearman well you could but i appreciate the sentiment 😘

THE END 🧡❤️

[kii2me2ii2]

I think the most trivially annoying thing p shippers do is claim anyone anti harrassment is p ship. what the hell does that have to do with shipping.

[vecnokriv-nikolicel]

heh what if i did it tmr

what if i...published the first sequel of the first chapter next week...

[tusks-and-claws]

I’m Not What You Need (But I Am)

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary:  “When you sit there/acting like you know me/acting like you only brought me here to get below me”

You have a concern to bring to Miguel, but when he hears what you really think of him, he doesn’t let you off so easily

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, kind of missionary idk what to call it, dominant Miguel, brat taming, orgasm denial, dirty talk, choking, sort of strangers to lovers, maybe a little bit of a hatefuck if you squint, reader is a Spider person, def a bit out of character

Wordcount: 3.5k

Find on Ao3 here :3

"Why are you coming to me with such trivial annoyances?" Miguel O'Hara asked you from the platform of his lab, at least ten feet above you. He was tapping on various screens, not giving you eye contact. It felt purposeful, pointed. 

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted to know when fights broke out. Keeping the peace and all that." You felt yourself growing warm, anxiety fluttering in your stomach. 

"What I want," he said, his tone growing short. "Is for people to sort out their own bullshit, so I can worry about what's important. Which, if you haven't noticed, is much bigger than you and I and some stupid fight in the lobby."

As soon as he said it, you knew he was right. But he was still being an asshole. You were only trying to help.

You put your hands up in defense. "I just thought you'd wanna know." Then whispered under your breath "douchebag," as you turned to walk away.

But your progress was halted by something tugging at your wrist. You looked down to see what it was, and closed your eyes, quietly cursing yourself. Neon red webbing. 

"You wanna run that by me again?" Miguel asked. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat. "Nothing, it was nothing. I'll just leave." 

You tried to pull free, but he was reeling you in, like a helpless fish on a hook. "Oh, no," he said, sounding somewhat amused. "No, I heard you. 'Douchebag,' eh? Not very creative. But…" he paused when you were closer, close enough that he could look directly down at you. "I want to hear you say it again. Face to face, this time."

You frowned. "How can we be 'face to face' when you're so high above me?"

He wagged a finger at you. "You've got a point there." In a sudden flash of tingling, your Spider sense triggered. But Miguel was too fast, he'd been doing this for far longer than you had. In an instant, you were wrapped in neon red and being hoisted upward onto the platform. He planted you right in front of him, putting his hands on his hips and leaning down so his eyes were level with yours. "Happy?"

You huffed. Why was he like this? A self-satisfied grin played at the edges of his plush lips as he scrutinized you with bloodshot eyes. Finally registering how close he was, and how huge he was, you started turning red. He could throw you around like you weighed nothing, couldn't he? He had just lifted you up here with hardly any effort. You'd never thought about another Spider like this. Sure, you were all strong, but there was something in Miguel's upper body that you couldn't free from your thoughts, something in those massive shoulders, something-

"Well?" He asked, breaking your trance. "I don't have all day."

You met his eyes. They looked so tired. You didn't want to insult him anymore. You wanted to leave and pretend like the thoughts you had about him never existed. 

But you knew what he needed to hear. 

"Douchebag," you repeated. 

He smiled, and it was humorless. "It's nice to know that this is what people think of me. That I did this for all of us, and everyone in our worlds. And the word that comes to mind when people talk to me is…?" He raised an eyebrow prompting you. 

"...Douchebag."

"That's right!" He pointed a finger at you. "I don't ask for much. I ask for people to listen and respect the operation. And that means respecting my time, too, eh? No more coming right to me with petty fights that people can solve on their own." 

You just stared back up at him, hardly registering his words. Respect time, no more fights, whatever. His hair looked so soft. 

"Got it?" He asked, starting to sound frustrated again. 

You nodded.

"I need to hear you say it."

"G-got it." 

"Good." He patted your shoulder. What an odd gesture. It was very nearly caring. "Let's get you out of here." He flexed his hand, talons coming free. He quickly swiped at the webbing he had wrapped you in, the strands snapping and falling to the floor in shreds.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. His brow furrowed. "Listen, I know I'm scary, but I'm just doing my job."

You shook your head. "I'm- I'm not scared."

"Are you not? Dios mio, I can hear your blood pumping." 

His heightened senses were going to be your death sentence. The longer he stood staring at you, the worse your thoughts became. But you couldn't bring yourself to move away from his attention. You crossed your arms, trying to make yourself small so he would stop looking at you. 

He raised an eyebrow. "What, do you wanna be friends or something?"

No, you thought, I want us to be something different. 

Despite your best efforts, you blurted out, "no, in all honesty, I've never really liked you that much." Why did you say that? What was wrong with you? 

He cocked his head, his eyes widening, processing what you just said. He started to nod. "Oh, wow. Great. Thank you so much. What a productive conversation. And you're still here because…?"

"Because you getting the last word in is infuriating to me." You couldn't stop yourself. You knew this was bad, but you couldn't stop.

"How do you think I feel? You came here for the sole purpose of bothering me and now you won't leave me the shock alone." He pointed at you again, forefinger lightly jabbing your collarbone. "You. Can. Leave. This is my lab, you little brat." He spoke the words through gritted teeth, and you could just barely see his elongated canines, gleaming and sharp in the light of the lab's computer screens. 

Oh no.

You stood there, just blinking at him. You've never seen someone so annoyed looking so attractive at the same time. It wasn't fucking fair.

He suddenly started, the anger from his face vanishing, confusion taking its place. "Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "That's why your heart is pounding?"

Fuck.

"What, uh… what do you-"

"Don't play dumb with me.” He placed a gloved finger under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. “I can smell that you're turned on. Is that why you came here to bother me? So you could gawk at me? And maybe I'd fuck you if you were lucky."

You backed up, nearly slipping off the edge of the raised platform. Miguel reached out and caught your hand, pulling you in close to him. Unconsciously, you splayed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His body was so warm and inviting, and you were drawn into it like a little planet circling a blazing sun. 

What was happening, what were you doing?

"Is that what you thought?" He asked, seeming to echo the questions you asked yourself, his voice growing more quiet as he looked down at you.

You quickly raised your hands away from him, closing them into loose fists and crossing your arms again. "No," you said, truthfully. 

"But you're thinking it now." He nodded. "Aren't you?"

After a pause, you nodded too.

"I really need to hear you say it." He probed.

"I'm…. I'm thinking about it now."

"Oh, are you? Thinking about what?"

You swore under your breath, doing a poor job of hiding a scowl. You should've known he wasn't going to make it easy for you. 

"Thinking about you fucking me." You grimaced after admitting it, waiting for him to mock you and disown you. 

He smiled. "That's funny. I thought I was a douchebag." 

"Fuck you, man!" You threw your arms up into the air, turning around and preparing to hop down from the platform. 

“No no no, come on, now,” he said, grasping your wrist with a large, warm hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. “Why don’t you give me a chance to change your mind?”

You looked him in the eyes, and there was a small spark there. You sighed, unable to deny the reaction your body had to him. You wanted him. And he was offering himself to you. What reality was this where that was even possible? Not ten minutes ago, you were hardly closer than strangers. “Okay,” you said, offering him a small grin. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“Oh, I won’t.” In another swift movement, he swept you up into his arms and laid you down on your back on the lab floor. He was above you, arms on either side of your head, boxing you in. You could hardly see anything past those vast shoulders. You swallowed. He raised one hand to your head, petting your hair. “Look at that. You really are so pretty. Couldn’t help thinking it even when you were pissing me off earlier.”

You furrowed your brow. “I thought you wanted to change my mind, asshole, is this-”

He cut you off as his hand lowered, skating down your side and brushing against your breast before traveling even further. You exhaled shakily, trying to prepare yourself for this. Miguel O'Hara was touching you. Miguel O'Hara was going to fuck you. 

When he reached the curvature of your hips, he fondly squeezed, humming to himself. "Soft… so soft. You wouldn't want an asshole like me to eat you out, would you?"

Your brain short-circuited at how blatant he was. "No, I- I would, I really fucking would, Miguel."

"Oh, are we on a first name basis, now?" He hooked a clawed finger into the fabric of your suit, ripping a huge gash into it so he could access you. That… that was your good suit. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to keep yourself from quipping back at him as he scooted downward, wrapping his arms around your thighs and lining himself up with your pussy. You threw your head back in anticipation, screwing your eyes shut. How was this real? How was-

You gasped as his tongue made gentle contact with your sex, slowly and carefully licking a long swipe from your opening to your clit, like he was savoring the first taste of you. 

"You taste even better than you smell, amor." 

Fuck, he was savoring you. You trembled beneath him, your hands tentatively reaching down to tangle with his hair. And it was even softer than you thought it would be. 

"That's it," he encouraged. "Hang onto me." 

You listened, your grip on his hair tightening. As if that were his cue, he brought his tongue back to your aching pussy, lapping at the wetness that was all but dripping from you. Your body immediately felt too hot on the metal floor, and you were convinced that you were beginning to melt under the warmth of his tongue. The almost-penetration was sending you spiraling; he was giving you nothing that you needed while somehow simultaneously answering your every secret desire. You needed that mouth on your clit. Your greedy, aroused body needed more, more. You had him all to yourself and he was teasing you. It wasn't fair. 

You whimpered as you gripped soft locks of his hair, waiting for him to take the plunge. Waiting…. And waiting. But he just kept lapping contentedly at your entrance, just barely dipping his tongue inside. The feeling was pleasant but infuriating. What was he trying to do? Did he want you to beg for it?

Oh.

…He couldn't be serious. 

But that was the only conclusion you could reach. After all, he'd been asking to hear you say things this entire encounter, prompting you to be vocal. All you had to do was swallow your pride. 

"M-Miguel…?" You asked, your voice quiet.

He stopped, picking his head up slightly, looking at you from under his thick brows. "Mm? What is it?"

"Please, um… please…." Your voice caught in your throat. Why was this so difficult?

"Oh, you're begging me now? What could you possibly be begging for… Isn't this what you wanted?"

You narrowed your eyes as he held your gaze with that lackadaisical expression. 

"Please," you started, feeling humiliated. "Please suck on my clit."

"Good girl. All you had to do was ask." In no time at all, his mouth was back on you. He zeroed in on your clit, taking the sensitive bundle of nerves into the wet warmth of his mouth, sucking on it just as you needed. The feeling was so intense and you couldn't suppress any of the noises that escaped you. And the noises he made didn't help in the slightest. He was humming as he worked your clit, the gentle vibrations of his voice adding to the overstimulation. He stopped for a moment to instead use his tongue, and the pointed attention was delicious.

"How are you feeling, amor?" He asked without fully pulling away from you, his voice slightly lisping from the contact. 

"Good," you gasped, feeling like you were getting close to the edge. "So, so good. Please keep going."

"Tell me when you're going to cum."

"Yes, yes I will." 

He continued his efforts, mercilessly devouring you, a cacophony of wet sounds rising to meet your ears. You could feel your orgasm building, your body singing. He was playing you like an instrument. That warm, pulsating feeling was building deep inside your core, threatening to burst apart with every second. 

Your grip on his hair tightened. "Miguel, I'm- I'm gonna-" 

Your back started arching and you closed your eyes as… nothing happened. He pulled his head away from you. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you from between your legs, one of his eyebrows raised. 

"Wha- what?" 

He smirked. "Oh, this? It's nothing... It's just that douchebags usually don't care about making women cum."

Your jaw dropped open. This again? You gritted your teeth, your clit swollen and thrumming with your pulse. You needed release. 

"I'm sorry." You said, your voice desperate. 

He raised his eyebrows, amused. "Oh, wow, that was fast." His tone was so matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry for calling you a douchebag and an asshole, I was wrong about you. Please let me cum." You spat the words out so quickly that you hardly registered what you were saying. 

"How could I say no to that?" He returned to you, gripping your thighs more firmly than he had before, shamelessly moaning into you as you started to curl up off the hard metal floor. Your orgasm was so close, it was right within your grasp. Your breath started going ragged as you held onto him for dear life. In a white hot burst of pleasure, you came, swearing loudly as Miguel drank up every bit of you, letting you ride your orgasm out on his skillful tongue. He slowed down right as you did, matching your pace perfectly until you were a heaving mess on the floor in front of him.

"My turn, now," his voice came through the fog, it sounded distant. But you could feel strong arms lifting you up and all but dropping you onto your back on one of the lab's computer consoles, its screen turning off in response. He dismissed a section of his high tech suit, his manhood coming free. You couldn't help but gawk at him. His body was unreal. From the small window he created, you could see hard lines of muscle carved into golden skin. Your head started spinning again. 

He began pumping his hard cock as he looked down at you, spreading your legs further open with his free hand. "See how easy it is to get what you want when you aren't being a brat?" The way his muscles flexed through his tight suit while he worked himself was maddening. You wanted- no, you needed him to fuck you. You needed him inside you. 

You nodded your head, answering his question. 

"So, tell me what you want." 

"I want you to fuck me," you answered, still panting from your orgasm. "I want to feel you so badly. Please, Miguel."

"You're a fast learner," he purred, bringing his cock to your folds and lubricating himself on the mess you two had made. He slid over your slick entrance, his head touching your aching clit as he moved up and down. "I'll fuck this pretty cunt for you, since you asked so nicely." 

He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside of you, inch by thick inch. You moaned, the feeling of finally being full was luscious, he was pressing at your walls from all angles. At last, when he was in up to the hilt, he stayed there for a moment while his large hands found your waist. 

"My God, look at you. You took all of me, and so shocking well. You," he exhaled, seemingly taking a second to compose himself. "You feel so good." 

"Thank you," you whispered, breathless. He was praising you. It was… nice to hear. Stubbornness be damned.

He chuckled to himself. "Please and thank you? You really do learn fast. You've earned this, amor." And with that, he pulled himself out of you, slamming back in with a hard slap. Over and over, he fucked you with the entire length of his cock, hitting spots inside of you that you weren't sure even existed. "Lemme hear you, I wanna hear it all."

You obeyed. "O-oh my God, Miguel, fuck. It's… it's so good. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you."

Thanking him fueled his fire; his grip on your waist tightening, red eyes sparkling wildly. "Good girl, that's it… watching my cock disappear inside of you… it's making me crazy. You like getting fucked by someone you hated before all this? You wanna get filled up by someone you don't even like?"

"Yes, please." Your back arched into him, the pressure from his unwavering thrusts overwhelming you. The feeling was impossibly perfect, your body tingling from your head to your toes. He really did fit inside of you so well.  

"You'll get it, baby. Keep being good for me, you'll get it." 

As he continued, his hands roamed your body. Groping at your breasts, resting on the soft slope of your stomach. You grabbed one of his traveling hands, a rogue feeling overtaking you as you brought it up to your throat. 

His eyes widened in disbelief. “Y-yeah? You want me to choke you?” He sounded excited.

“P-please,” you huffed, grabbing onto his forearm.

“Holy shit, you’re something else.” He began applying gentle pressure to your airway as he kept fucking you. It was the perfect amount of constriction; suppressing your breath intake just enough for your head to feel pleasantly airy. He was good at that, why was he so good at that?

Between the way he was pounding you and the way he was choking you, your muscles started to bear down on him.

"Yes, yes, squeeze that cock. Good girl. You’re gonna get what you want.” 

You clenched down on him, your orgasm rocking you to your core as he fucked you through it. It hit you in giant waves, crashing over you and pulling you into the undertow. You felt completely drunk on it. The warmth of it was everywhere in your body, all the way up to your fingertips. Your head swam, your eyes rolling back into your head. Miguel swore to himself, his tempo becoming more irregular. He released your throat, hands flying down to grip the console. You thought you could hear it cracking. 

“God, you’re tight. I’m gonna fill you up.”

“Yes,” you rasped, your body shaking. 

He growled as he came inside of you, bearing his fangs in clenched teeth once more, and you could feel his cock twitch followed by the heat of his seed as it stuffed you full. He lingered over you, his eyes looking frenzied as his gaze flicked over your face, his chest heaving with every recovering breath. 

You released a deep sigh, smiling tenderly at him. “Thank you, Miguel.”

“You, uh,” he started awkwardly, running his hands through his hair. He still hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. “You earned it,” he repeated. 

He took a short, unsure step back, as he pulled his length free from you. You could feel his cum leaking from you upon his release. There was so much of it. 

He held his hand out to you to help you up, and you grasped it, smiling again as you got to your feet. 

“I’ll clean this mess up, but you.…” He scanned your frame. “...I’ve got a pair of pants on one of the lab chairs down there.” He pointed toward a particularly cluttered section of his space. “Bringing them back would be a much better excuse to see me than a fight in the lobby.”

[narcoticv3nus]

Be Good to Me ❤︎ Arthur Morgan

Kinktober Day I: Edging

summary: reader gives arthur a hand tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, hand job, praise, a bit of degradation, edging (duh), fluff, dom!reader, sub!arthur, cursing, use of pet names ("sweetheart", "good boy", "honey", “darling”), author attempts at accents wc: 1.5k

MASTERLIST

It wasn’t every day you found yourself in this position, straddling your cowboy, his eyes glazed over and pleading as he gazed up at you like you were his goddess and he was your devotee. The top buttons of his shirt were left open, offering a teasing view of his broad, hairy chest while a sinful symphony of sweet temptation spilled from his lips. His large hands cradled your hips, and now and then, his soft caresses turned into almost painful clutches as he neared his release before you took it away.

“Please… sweetheart…” he panted desperately, his eyes squeezed shut as his hips chased your hand.

“Hm? Please, what?” You tilted your head to the side with a self-pleased smirk tugging at the edges of your lips.

“You know–” his warning growl cut off as you squeezed the base of his cock coated in endless amounts of precum that continued to leak from his tip.

“What is it?” You cooed with feigned sympathy, struggling to suppress the urge to display even a hint of mercy.

His long, dark eyelashes fluttered as his beautiful, clear blue eyes slowly reopened, appearing bleary and glistening with moisture. His slightly chapped, pink lips puckered, giving away his thoughts. As his arm encircled your waist, his fingers tightened their hold, sending a thrill down your spine. You noticed his jaw clenching, his subtle muscle flexing, and the intensity in his eyes.

“Just let me take care of you.” You purred, continuing the rapid movements of your hand before he could flip you over and have his way with you. Like you know he wants.

“You work so hard; let me do this for you,” you said, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. As his lips met yours, the soft, velvety timbre of your voice and the tender touch of your lips against his seemed to satiate him, if only for a moment.

You moan into his mouth, tongues intertwining as his large, warm hand reaches up to cup your breast, squeezing affectionately as his chest arches into yours.

“Darlin’…” he groaned, tipping his head back, exposing his neck in submission, moaning as your lips descended, sweet and soft kisses turned into teasing nibbles to wet sucks and licks.

“Jus’ like that,” he whined, thighs spreading wider as his cock twitched uncontrollably, tip an angry purple as his hips constantly lifted and retreated from your torturous pleasure-inducing movements.

“Feels good, honey?” you teased, twisting your fist as you went upwards, soft fingers tracing the outlines of his veins running up-and-down his cock.

"Ahh fuck!" The words flew out of Arthur's mouth involuntarily as you twisted your hand in just the right way, sending a jolt of exquisite torment straight through his body. He arched his back off the bed, hands balling into fists at his sides as he struggled to maintain control. He could see the amusement dancing in your eyes as you watched his reaction, enjoying your power over him.

With a low growl, he replied, "Yeah, it feels good." He bit his bottom lip, trying to contain himself, but the sensation was almost too much. He could feel the pressure building inside him like a wildfire waiting to erupt. His eyes locked onto yours, silently begging you to release him from this sweet torture.

“Fuck… yes,” Arthur’s voice strained as he called out, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as he tried to regulate his breathing. His hands found their way to your hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands as you continued your delicious ministrations. He groaned your name, the sound deep and guttural.

Arthur’s mind spiraled into a whirlwind of pleasure and agony as he fought against the impending climax. His thighs tensed, and his body quivered beneath yours. He knew you could sense his desperation, the way his breath caught in his throat each time your hand moved, and how his cock pulsed in your grasp.

The combination of pain and pleasure made him feel vulnerable, exposed, and yet oddly safe with you. He craved this intimacy, the connection between you two that went beyond mere physical release. It was as if you were peeling back the layers of his hardened exterior, reaching the raw emotions buried deep within him. He didn’t understand it but couldn’t deny its pull on him.

“Are you going to make me beg for it, darlin’?” He asked through clenched teeth, his voice a rough whisper as he challenged you to push him further.

“You might as well start,” you giggled, your breath warm and airy as you leaned close to his ear, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you enjoyed seeing him squirm beneath you.

Arthur’s jaw tightened as your breath tickled his ear, your giggle sending another wave of pleasure coursing through him. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to steady himself before opening them again to meet your gaze.

Goddamnit, woman, you know how to play me like a fiddle, he thought, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he felt himself losing control. He let out another deep groan, voice strained but filled with determination, the sound of your name reaching your ears, causing your thighs to tighten around him, “I need… ” He couldn’t bring himself to beg, but the words hung between you nonetheless. His hips bucked involuntarily, seeking relief that only you could provide. The intensity in his eyes deepened as he stared at you, silently pleading for you to end his suffering.

“Please,” he finally managed to say, the word torn from his lips as he swallowed hard. His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, gently guiding your face towards his for another passionate kiss. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, urging it open as his tongue swept inside, mimicking the motion he wished you’d use on him again.

“Please, what?” Your words were soft as you murmured against his lips, but your gaze was hard and unyielding.

Pausing mid-kiss, Arthur studied your expression, seeing the playful challenge in your eyes. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards despite the torment you put him through. With a deep breath, Arthur swallowed his pride and let out a low moan. “Please…let me cum,” he finally uttered, the words sounding foreign yet oddly liberating on his tongue. He knew how much power he was relinquishing by voicing his need, but something about you made him want to give you that control.

There was something inexplicable about how you seemed to see past his flaws and still chose to stand by his side. It was as if you had formed an unspoken bond, drawing him in with an irresistible force. His longing for your touch and validation was akin to the desperate yearning of a person stranded in the arid expanse of a desert, utterly parched and in need of sustenance.

“Good boy.” you smiled, your leisure and methodical movements suddenly picking up in speed. The slick sounds of your hand jerking him off echoed loudly throughout the room.

“Go ahead…” you moaned, subtly grinding yourself over his thigh. “Cum for me.”

Relief flooded Arthur's system at your words, and the pressure within him began building rapidly. Finally, he thought triumphantly, his hips instinctively bucking upwards to meet your increased pace. The world around him narrowed down to nothing but you, your touch, and the exquisite torture you inflicted upon him. Every stroke sent bolts of white-hot pleasure coursing through his veins, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of release.

Arthur’s grip on your shoulder tightened as his muscles tensed, and with one final, powerful thrust against your hand, he exploded. A guttural groan ripped through the air as his entire body shook with the force of his orgasm, every muscle contracting before gradually relaxing.

His head fell against the pillow as he struggled to catch his breath, eyes closed, and a satisfied smile played across his lips. Once he regained control, he opened them to look at you, the intense desire replaced with a gentler, warmer gaze.

"Thank you," he rasped, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I needed that more than I care to admit."

As your hand slowed to a stop, Arthur let out a deep breath, feeling both spent and alive simultaneously. He couldn't remember the last time someone had such an intense hold over him, and the realization sent a strange mix of emotions coursing through him. He watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, his chest still heaving from the exertion. The room was quiet save for the crackling fire and your labored breathing, creating an intimate atmosphere that made him feel vulnerable.

Reaching up, Arthur gently pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around your waist as he reversed your positions, his hands resting beside your head as he wolfishly grinned from on top of you. The weight of Arthur's body pressing against yours sent another pleasant shiver down your spine, his muscles still warm and taut from your shared experience. His intense blue-green eyes searched yours, a softness there that was rare to see. Despite the chaos that often consumed him, Arthur found solace in your arms, something he hadn't expected to see in this wild, unforgiving world.

“Now, darlin," he drawled, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards, "I believe it's my turn now."

main masterlist, rules

[jhoneybees]

Feelin' in my body

Here's a little blurb for you lovelies! Something to make up for the long wait on the requests❤️

Characters: Late 70s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: a little sexual but it's all pretty fluffy

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @theelvisprincess @i-r-i-n-a-a @hooked-on-elvis @polksaladava @thelonelyheart

_____________________________________________

“Baby?” Elvis calls out, turning his head to look into every room as he walks down the hallway, upstairs. He quietly steps down into the foyer, wanting to see if you're in the kitchen.

“Honey?” Lifting his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head as he looks around the room.

“Where is that girl?” He thinks to himself then as he walks past the stairs going down in the jungle room, he stops in his tracks hearing something familiar.

He cautiously takes one step at a time downstairs, frowning in curiosity when he realises the noise is music with a faint sound of someone singing under it.

He sighs and as he goes halfway down, enough to see who's in the room. His eyebrows soften and his lips curl into a crooked grin seeing you dancing around the jungle room, holding his microphone singing along to ‘I got a feelin' in my body'

“I got a feeling in my body, this will be our lucky day!” You sing, jamming around on the plush green carpet. Swinging your hips from side to side as the music plays.

Elvis breathes out a quiet chuckle, resting his hand on the bannister. Shaking his head in disbelief.

He finds it funny that you're singing and dancing to his music, he thought you'd be sick of it by now because of how many times you heard it in the studio while recording it but he's been proved wrong.

“Funny lil girl.” He tsks, grinning widely at how your hair bounces around and the little dress you're wearing is slowly riding up your thighs. Just about giving him the tiniest view of your white panties.

“Won’t you lift your eyes up, children, lift ‘em to the sky, heaven stands before you, gates are open wide, shelter for the weary, comfort the weak, we'll leave the devil's evil, sweatin’ on the stre-” You sing but suddenly you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders making you scream.

“Jus’ me, darlin'!” Elvis laughs loudly, pulling you against him when you realise. “What's my baby doin' in ‘ere?”

You breathe out relieved and start to giggle, sliding your hand up onto his chest giving it a little rub. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Mhm.”

“Mmm… I was enjoying your dancin’.”

You smile with another giggle, a little louder this time. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, would like ta see ya again.” He responds, giving your ass a small squeeze and light pat.

“Sit down then…the song ain't over.”

He hums, grabbing your chin to bring you into a gentle, playful kiss before going over to sit on the animal fur covered couch. Chuckling and rolling his eyes when you take your dress off, leaving you in just your matching white bra and panties that have little pink bows in the center.

“What's this?” He asks, holding his hand out for you to take, allowing you to climb onto his lap. Still holding his microphone.

“Wanna give ya a lap dance.”

“Why’s that?” He asks, smiling like a teenage boy.

“cause I got a feelin' in my body.”

[brewed-pangolin]

Visual prompt for Super Soap Sunday:

On mission you can't stop thinking about Soap's gloved fingers. What to do....what to do....

Trigger Finger

18+ MDNI: Pretty self explanatory here, folks. Just a quick little drabble. Totally unedited. I'm going down with the ship.

Happy Super Soap Sunday. (And I apologize for this taking FOREVER!)

You couldn't help it. The way your eyes constantly moved to linger over the movements of his gloved fingers over the top of steering wheel. Rhythmically tapping to an unsung beat in his head as you both sat silent in the front of the humvee.

The recon mission was dull. Uneventful and borderline boring, so it was no surprise that your attention would be drawn elsewhere.

And what was worse, is that he caught you staring on more than one occasion, but kept his curious inquiries to himself. Deciding to let it play it out and lure you in further, like a glistening bait to an unattntive fish.

And just when the time was right, when he felt your gaze linger just a bit too long, he'd reel you in with that signature Scottish charm.

"Seein' somethin' ya like, bonnie?"

"What? No." You shot back. His sudden deep brogue breaking your mindless trance. Shifting your gaze away while a soft rouge hue of embarrassment warmed in your cheeks.

"Mhmm. Then why ya keep starin', hm?"

"I wasn't staring. I was..."

You paused. Words suddenly lost. Breath catching in your throat, eyes desperately searching for an answer that was nowhere to be seen. And all the while feeling like a wild animal caught in his perfectly timed trap.

"It was the tapping, okay. That's it."

"Aye. The tapping."

"Keep tellin' yourself that, bonnie."

The uncanny arrogance in his tone was palpable. Confidence smearing over his face as the corner of his mouth curled up at you. He returned to the rhythmic cadence once more, now much more deliberate. Like the beat of a drum beckoning to you from the deep recesses of your mind.

And with that, you finally gave in.

"Goddamit."

"Aye. Goddamit."

What ensued was nothing short of trigger finger induced ecstasy. Your seat reclined back to its limit, his hand buried deep within the top of your open trousers as his gloved fingers teased along the flesh of your silkened walls. Pumping in and out of your soaked cunt while his thumb relentless circled over your throbbing clit. His movements working in tandem, luring you ever closer to orgasm as you clenched your thighs around his forearm.

"That's right, bonnie. Jus' tappin' that sweet pussy a'yers."

You were done for at that moment. Lost at sea in an ocean of pleasured paradise as he coaxed a delicious moan from between your lips. Your hands gripping into the arm rests as your hips bucked to force him further down to the knuckle. Your walls tightening around him as you rode out your climax against his palm.

And this is how it all started. Day in and day out. While on solo recon missions, his hands would always meander their way into the warm confines between your legs and beckon more of those sweet moans that only he could conjure up. The maestro to your pleasure. And only he could make you sing. And above all, one thing always rang true.

The gloves stayed on.

Drabbles Masterlist

If you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know in the comments or shoot me a DM. Much love 💛

@deadbranch @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @kkaaaagt @astraluminaaa @strlingsav @macravishedbymactavish @mykneeshurt

[lyjen]

I Called | Part 2

Summary: When (Y/n) goes out to do a business check on a Self Storage building, she ends up getting attacked. Due to a technical difficulty the radio of (Y/n) remains on, so everyone including her boyfriend and brother can hear what is happening.

Request by: @shauna-carsley

<< Previous Chapter | 9-1-1 Masterlist

Taglist: I was thinking of starting a taglist, so if you want to be tagged leave a comment or tell me in “Ask me a question”! ( @oliviah-25 )

______

*

The attacker grabs (Y/n)’s arm and snaps it backwards. An ear deafening scream sounds through the building as she literally hears the bone snap. She feels how the bottom of the attacker’s shoe connected with the back of her knee as he kicked it. She lost balance on her right leg, so she tumbled to the ground and a loud cry fell from her lips.

Her body gets forced onto the ground by the power of his hands. (Y/n) falls face down onto the floor. In panic she starts touching the floor, looking for her gun with her only available hand that was working.

She could feel the man’s body standing over her. “Not this time.” she heard a low voice speak. (Y/n) turned around, so she was not on her stomach anymore, but facing the man with her back pressed to the ground, as she started crawling backwards. Trying to get away from the man.

The gun she was looking for, he was holding it right now, aiming at her. Her breathing became faster, her heart was racing, like it was trying to break free from her ribcage. “bye bye” he spoke as he pulled the trigger.

*

(Y/n)’s body flinched as he pulled the trigger, and within a second she was sitting right up in bed. Her body was drenched in sweat, she was on Evan’s side of the bed. That was the only place she would be able to fall asleep when her boyfriend was on a 24 hour shift and wouldn’t be back until the next day that afternoon.

She planted her head down on her hands, which were leaning down into her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. Tear after tear slowly made its way down her face. Her own scream is still audible in the back of her head, along with the sound of his fists touching her body and her bone snapping.

Why was she still having these dreams? It was like she had a dozen of these dreams, for weeks she had to relive the same dream. And now, she was dreaming of different kinds of scenarios. Of how it could’ve ended. “For fuck sake” she mumbled as she sniffled and wiped her hands underneath her eyes so she could wipe away her tears she shed.

She sighed as she tapped her phone on, three in the morning. Nice. Secretly she would’ve hoped Evan could walk into his apartment any minute, and to tell her that she would be okay, or to just put his arms around her, and hold her.

Part of her wanted to text Evan or her brother. But, they were on shift. They had more important things to do than to listen to her crying, telling the same dream. They couldn’t magically fix this, she knew that. But it was nice to know that somebody was listening to her. It was better than keeping it to herself, right?

“Get out of my head” she cried as loud as she could. But she could still hear her own scream echoing in the back of her mind, from that day. She wanted to shut out the sounds of her trauma, but she couldn’t. Her fingertips into her hair, it was like she was turning into a crazy person. She squeezed her eyes closed, as hard as she could when the sound in the back of her mind became louder, and louder.

Her breathing started to fasten, she had just calmed herself down and now her mind was doing this to her? Her heartbeat was starting to race again. “Oh god” she panted through her breaths as the tears started to stream over her cheeks again.

She threw off the sheets that were still covering her legs as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and ran towards the bathroom downstairs. She grabbed the sides of the sink as tightly as she could. Her face was above the sink as she was gasping for air, choking on her own cries.

“Just s-shut up!” she gasped, trying to stop her mind from playing the sounds that were going on inside of her head. Her eyes opened as she looked at herself in the mirror, she flinched at the view she got as a loud scream fell from her lips.

He was there. Her attacker was right behind her, in the mirror. Without thinking, she turned around. There was nothing to be seen. (Y/n) grabbed the thing closest to her, a full bottle of shampoo, and threw it against the mirror which was attached to the wall.

The mirror on the wall broke into a hundred little pieces of glass, as she let her back fall against the wall of the bathroom and slid down the wall.

“Dispatch to 118”

Bobby’s hand reached out for his radio as he was sitting in his team to go back to the station. “Go for captain Nash” he pressed the button.

“Please proceed to Nova Passage Apartments. A neighbor called because of noise complaints, but mentioned that she heard stuff breaking and screaming. Victim may be in need of medical attention.”

Multiple faces in the rig were pointed at Evan now. “Copy that dispatch, 118 enroute.” Bobby called over the radio and turned on the sirens of the truck. “Isn’t that..-” Chimney started. “..My apartment building.” Evan continued as his eyebrows furrowed. This was just a coincidence right?

Evan reached into his pocket as he slid out his phone and unlocked his phone. He quickly swiped to his text messages, there was only a goodnight message of (Y/n) from a few hours ago on which he replied but she didn’t read it yet. That was a good sign, or not? That could mean she was still peacefully asleep in bed and someone else was in need of help.

He swiped the messages app away and tapped onto the phone icon. Should he call her? What if she was finally asleep without having any nightmares and he interrupted it by being worried. “Buck? You coming?” Eddie’s voice asked Evan as he kept on staring at his thumb hovering over the phone icon.

Evan’s stomach turned as he realized the truck had already pulled to a stop and he was the only one still sitting in the rig. “Yeah, I’m coming.” Evan said as he threw off his headphone, basically jumped down the truck and closed the door behind him.

Eddie closed the hatch of the truck as he grabbed a halligan out of it, just in case. The team followed after Bobby, but as soon as they reached the floor of Evan’s apartment and he saw officers in front of it, he knew his gut feelings were right. The officers were banging on his apartment door, asking if someone was home. But no one answered.

Evan carried his house keys in case of emergencies with him, he felt in his pockets, trying to find the keys while his breath started to fasten. He had to know if (Y/n) was okay, in the stress. He couldn’t find the spare key to his house.

He shook his head, this wasn’t happening to him. Meanwhile Bobby was in conversation with the officers, collecting information about the call. Evan stopped searching for his key, as he walked towards the door.

“Hey (Y/n)... It’s me… I’m coming in okay. Stay away from the door.” Evan spoke through the still closed front door. He took a step back as he for a millisecond closed his eyes and yanked his shoulder into the door.

The door flung open as he quickly scanned his house with his eyes.

“(Y/n)?” He called out through the house, as he continued his way into the room. Everything seemed as perfect as he had left it that morning.

“Buck!” Hen called out as she was standing in the doorframe of the bathroom. Evan quickly made his way towards the bathroom, and his eyes fell on (Y/n) broken down onto the floor, curled up like a ball against the wall, with Eddie to her side.

Evan kneeled in front of her, pressing one of his hands onto her left shoulder and the other one resting on her arm. Her brother’s hand was lying on her right shoulder, trying to give her some comfort.

Her knees were pressed to her chest, with her arm secured around them and her head was hanging in the space between her knees and her chest. Quiet sobs are leaving her mouth. “Hey.. what’s wrong?” Evan asked when he reassuringly rubbed his thumb over her arm, just to let her know he was here with her.

She continued crying. “Did something happen?” Evan asked her. He knew something had happened, otherwise his bathroom mirror wouldn’t be destroyed like this.

When Evan didn’t receive an answer, “Baby.. can you please look at me?” he quietly asked her. Her breathing was trembling, as if she had trouble with taking a proper breath. But her head slowly came back up, as her red, wet, broken eyes met his.

It looked like she was looking right through him, she was that broken. “Good.. you’re doing great, baby.” He supported her. “Can you please tell me what happened here?” he calmly asked her.

Evan knew he needed to give her some time to react. “H-he.. w-was here” she stuttered as a single tear fell down her cheek. Evan’s eyes locked with Eddie as he continued rubbing his thumb over her arm. His eyes wandered back to her “The guy who attacked you in the storage unit?” Eddie mingled into the conversation as Evan didn’t know what to ask or say.

She nodded as her eyes focussed themselves on the broken pieces of glass, shattered down the bathroom floor. “”I-In.. the m-mirror.” she gasped through her breaths. Evan’s hands rubbed up and down her arms as he took a look over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry” she softly spoke with a trembling voice as she shook her head and moved her head so she was now looking at the ceiling. Evan’s head shot back to his girlfriend, who was still frightened sitting down on the floor. “The v-voices inside my head.. I can’t stop them. They’re c-constantly screaming.” she cries as her breathing starts to fasten again.

“Hey, hey, hey! It’s okay.” Evan says as his hands slid from her upper arms down to her hands. “Look at me.” he said. (Y/n)’s eyes squeezed shut as she gasped for air and pressed her nails into Evan’s skin. “Please.” He begged. He helped her out of previous panic attacks, but this one sounded different. He had never seen her so scared, so broken. Eddie’s hand pushed down onto Evan’s shoulder, as a sign to let him try and help his sister out.

Eddie kneeled down onto his knees, as he took Evan’s place and Evan himself switched to Eddie’s place. “(Y/n). Please, listen to me. You’re having a panic attack.” Eddie’s voice sounded calm, his hand was still on her right shoulder. “Just breathe okay? Breathe from your abdomen, not your chest.” he continued as (Y/n) was still gasping for more and more air.

Evan could hear (Y/n) trying to fight herself, trying to fight the attack she was having. “Just sh-” she cries as she could hear more voices, and more. “I need you to touch four things okay.” Eddie commanded her as she tried to fight. “Please! I can’t-” yelped through her sobs.

She placed her hand onto the floor, and the other one against the wall. “F-floor. W-w-wall.” Her eyes scanned the room, and she placed her hand down to the medic bag which was between Eddie and Evan, and she touched the radio. ”B-bag. Radio” she gasped.

“Okay. Now, three things you hear. Just listen.” Eddie went on as (Y/n) grabbed her brother’s wrist and Evan’s upper arm to steady herself. “I hear y-your voice. m-my breathing. And peop-ple on the hallway.” she stuttered over her words. “Good. Now two things you smell” Eddie continued when she answered his command.

“S-shampoo. And cologne.”

“And last one, one thing you can taste.” Eddie could see the pain in her eyes as she quietly said the word: “Fear.” She bit down onto her lower lip when it started trembling and more tears were streaming down her face. As if she didn’t shed enough tears already. “You’ll be alright.” Eddie said as his sister pulled herself into his chest. His hand tried to give her some comfort by softly and slowly up and down her back.

Evan kissed the top of her head as he tried to keep it together himself. “We’ll work this out.” he mumbled against the top of her head.

______

After months of therapy, and recovery, (Y/n) had finally been cleared to go back to work.

But not like she wanted to. She has been put on desk duty.

(Y/n) has been working on filling in some papers, until she feels a hand touching her shoulder. (Y/n) felt herself flinching at the touch, but as soon as her eyes met two familiar ones she knew it was alright. “Oh my god.. Athena, you scared me.”

Her hand went up towards her left part of the chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you like that.” Athena apologized. “How are you holding up?” Athena asked when (Y/n) pinned files together and closed the file she was working on. She took a deep breath, “Taking it day by day.” (Y/n) nodded.

A smile appeared on Athena’s face as she recognized the look she had in her eyes. “You can’t wait to get out there again, do you?” she softly laughed. (Y/n) looked down at her own hands as she started to fidget with her fingers and pick her skin. She nodded at Athena’s conclusion. “I understand. Working behind the desk wasn’t for me either.” Athena admitted.

(Y/n) softly smiled at Athena. “Yeah, but maybe it’s for the better that I'm on desk duty instead of out there.” she sighed. She missed the adrenaline, god she actually missed turning on that siren and stepping on the gas. “I’m not sure if I'd be ready to get out there again.” she continued and grabbed a new case file.

Athena nodded, understanding what she was saying, but she could see the urge to go back out there in her eyes.

“You know what.. Let's go for a ride hmm?” Athena’s voice spoke as she patted (Y/n) on the shoulder and started to walk away from the desk. (Y/n)’s head shot up at the sudden request from the sergeant. “But sergea-” (Y/n) didn’t even get the chance to end her sentence as Athena turned around in her tracks, and basically started walking backwards. “It’s already taken care of!”

She turned back around as she continued walking in her tracks. “You coming?” Athena called over her shoulder. A sound of doubt and hesitation fell off (Y/n)’s lips as she looked after Athena. What did she have to lose? She slid the chair backwards and hastily followed Athena.

“Where are we going?” (Y/n) asked as she was in the passenger seat of the police cruiser, with Athena behind the wheel. “You’ll see.” Athena spoke as she steered the wheel to the left to make another turn.

The car ride was silent, not awkwardly silent, but comfortable. (Y/n) watched trees, buildings and streets flashing by every second. Until the car pulled to a stop.

Athena put the car in park, as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Athena.. What are we doing here?” her voice asked, disappointed. “We’re going back to the place it all began.” Athena said as she opened her own side of the door and shut it close.

(Y/n) fidgeted with her fingers as she saw Athena walking through the window towards the entrance of the building. She felt her heart race in her chest, and swallowed loudly. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and she took a deep breath.

Her hand unbuckled her seatbelt, and she slowly opened the passenger door of the police car she was in. (Y/n) could feel her legs almost caving in underneath her as she walked to stand next to Athena, who was in front of the large opening of the studio self storage.

“Why did you bring me here?” (Y/n) asked as she stared in front of her. She could feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins. “To overcome your fear, you first have to face it.” Athena spoke loud and clear. “So I brought you back to the place where it all began.” she continued.

A moment of silence fell between the two of them.

“Look. I know how hard it is to go back on the job after a horrible accident. Trust me, I’ve been there. And if there is one way to go back and get back your confidence, this is the way.” Athena said as she pointed at the building.

Her hands were pressed into fists, (Y/n) could feel her nails cutting through her skin as she anxiously looked at the garage door frame on the outside of the building. “You’re not alone sweetheart.” Athena spoke as she looked into her eyes and squeezed (Y/n)’s upper arm.

She felt another hand press onto her shoulder, when she looked over her shoulder it revealed her boyfriend touching her shoulder and his team right behind them. “That’s what happens if you call for backup.” Athena says.

(Y/n) sighed as she nodded at the studio self storage, “Let’s do this.”

Evan’s hand slid off her shoulder as she stepped forward, and made her way onto the concrete stairs.

She looked up at the dark night sky, as she let her eyes wander over the building. She let oxygen enter her airways as she took a deep breath. It was time to face her inner demons. Her nightmares had finally stopped, and the screaming inside her head had faded away.

Her foot stepped over the threshold, as she followed the hallway inside. She slid her flashlight out of her belt and switched it on as she made her way through the halls. The deep, dark, creepy halls that had haunted her day after day.

After a while, of making her way through the building, she turned to the left. This was it. This is where the nightmare began. Some garage doors had been dented by the pressure that the attacker had on her body. Her body was slammed into multiple of these doors.

She shone her flashlight on the dents that were left on the doors and traced her fingers over it. A scream roared through the back of her mind. (Y/n) aimed her flashlight down to the ground as she kneeled down and inspected the little old blood spot that they missed when they cleaned the scene. A groan from her lips and gunshot rang through her ears, as a high frequency tone slowly faded out of her hearing.

(Y/n) clicked her spine back in place as she stood back up again, and nodded at the scene. She finally made peace with what happened in here.

When (Y/n)’s face was lit up by the light of the moon, a smile appeared on her face as she heard the sound of people clapping and cheering. They knew, she had overcome her fears and she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.

She felt a hand slid down her waist as she gets pulled into her boyfriend’s chest. His warm breath hoovered over her ear, “I’m so proud of you.”

<< Previous Chapter | 9-1-1 Masterlist

[sttoru]

toji having you (roughly) suck his fingers the way he fingers your p… 🥹

⟣ note. this man does smth to me and these reqs make it worse (in the best way possible) phewwww ..

⟣ tags. dom!toji fushiguro x sub!female reader. implied fingering, dry humping / grinding, dirty talk, one thigh slap, sprinkle of degradation, implied blow job. reader gets called ‘doll, good girl, baby, slut’.

it started off innocent; cuddling up against toji on the couch, watching your reality show, laughing with each other when funny commentary dropped—just your usual, lazy friday evening.

but then the entire mood shifted as toji snuck his fingers up to your lips. his fingertips were tracing the outline of your pretty mouth, feeling the plumpness of your lips on his rough skin and—before long—his index and middle finger pushed through and ended up inside of your wet mouth.

“suck on ‘m, doll.” toji whispers, teeth sinking into the outer rim of your ear to gently tug at it, “might give ya a reward if you do, m’kay?”

you obediently do as told—your submissive nature being a feature that never failed to arouse toji even more. you suckle on his girthy fingers, your saliva coating his skin and eventually trickling down the corner of your mouth due to toji’s rough movements;

his fingers were pulled and pushed back and forth, the tips curled against your tongue as toji mocks the motions he mainly does whenever he’s pleasuring your cunt with his hands. you almost choke because of how deep his two fingers reach—a third digit soon joining the wetness of your mouth.

“mhm, jus’ like that, yeahh—good girl.” toji coos and encourages you from behind, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you still on his lap. a whine escapes the back of your throat as you felt toji grind your body against the massive bulge in his pants—your plump ass never not turning him into a groaning and grunting mess.

“fuck—can’t wait to have ya suck on somethin’ else, ay? gonna put that mouth to good use on my dick once y’ve earned it.”

you close your eyes, thighs squirming and rubbing against each other as you can already taste him on your tongue. you pushed your hips back to meet toji’s halfway, the friction making both of you breath heavily.

“wan’ you—“ you manage to speak up, words slurring a bit as your own drool hinders your speech, the gathered up saliva dripping down your chin. you continue to suck on toji’s fingers as he moves them around, feeling the gums, tongue and roof of your mouth. not a place goes untouched; “pleash? wanna suck you off, toji.”

the older man hisses and tightens his grip around your waist, holding you down firmly whilst his confined cock presses up against your clothed cunt—both eagerly searching for one another.

“yeah, yeah— ya can in a sec, baby.” toji mumbles, licking your earlobe and sucking on the small bit of skin before releasing it, “lemme see how good ya can suck my fingers first.”

a whine in protest leaves your lips and your own hand travels down between your legs. you just needed to relieve your own needs, though that dire attempt was quickly stopped by the man underneath you. a smack against your thighs—one which was enough to make you wince—was given out as a warning;

“tch, y’re fuckin’ impatient, huh? greedy slut.” toji scoffs, tone degrading and yet so hot as his deep voice rings in your ear, “i said in a second.”

toji’s fingers reach all the way down until they hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water as your gag reflex threatens to be triggered at any moment. his fingers luckily pull back again after a second or two, drenched in your warm saliva.

you gasped for air whilst still feeling toji grind against your ass—the feeling of the fat rubbing against his dick making him so hard that his mind was starting to go blank. he needed you too. now.

“sorry, baby. looks like ya have to take my cock in y’r tight little cunt instead of y’r mouth—ya fine with that?”

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙biscuits | CS55˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: carlos sainz x baker!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, new relationship

warnings: nothing rly, jus lots of fun interactions with drivers & some fluff w carlos tehe

summary: in which your baked goods are a hit with the grid (and so is your blossoming relationship)

a/n: hiii i loveee making fics where y/n is bffs with the whole grid lolz & by whole grid it's like 4 other drivers coz i dnt have the time & space to be writing in a thousand diff relationship dynamics nd these ppl r the ones i feel most comfy writing !

request!!!: For your inspiration maybe smau with Carlos and baker reader who gets along with everyone and bakes for everyone . And maybe make it funny like the "meme" you made with Lando *(HERE for reference)*

fc: various brunette girls from pinterest

my masterlist

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 411,593 others

yourusername happy new year 🎇🫶

tagged: carlossainz55

view all 4,096 comments

user1 happy new year y/n!!!

user2 omgg her first new year with carlos?? 🤭

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yourusername hi❤️

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carlossainz55 pretty girl

yourusername 🫶

user4 MY BABIES

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charles_leclerc it's 10pm on january 2nd

landonorris leave her alone charles she was hungover

charles_leclerc for 2 days?

yourusername dont shame me. we all saw you on carlos' birthday

charles_leclerc 🤐

carlossainz55

liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, and 623,196 others

carlossainz55 a winter break update

tagged: yourusername

view all 10,821 comments

user6 THE SELFIE

user7 i luv her

landonorris ?? those biscuits better be for me

carlossainz55 no go away

yourusername not these ones landie lou :p

landonorris boooooo

user8 not landie lou

user9 y/n is so pretty

yourusername why post that pic of us, u made me look crazy

carlossainz55 you did that all on your own my love

charles_leclerc lol 😂

yourusername you want biscuits or not charles leloser

charles_leclerc im sorry y/n

user10 the nicknames😭

user11 lol the grid is so whipped for y/n

twitter ->

instagram ->

carlossainz55 posted a story

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, and 23,555 others

landonorris MY BISCUITS??

charles_leclerc FOR ME!??

danielricciardo aw we miss y/n

carlossainz55 she said she's rustling up something delicious for you & heidi 💘

danielricciardo omg feel so blessed rn

user13 😮 the poison biscuits?!?!??

user14 the heartssss she's too cute

liked by carlossainz55

danielricciardo posted a story

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername, and 55,827 others

sry i made a typo it's meant to say FROM our angel lolz

yourusername ANYTHING FOR MY FAV AUSSIEEE

danielricciardo we luv u

landonorris daniel she hates me

danielricciardo no ur just a beg

landonorris SHUT UP

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user16 BEST WAG FAV WAG

user17 in love w her

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 567,892 others

yourusername my vacay got gatecrashed by ferrari's worst driver 😢

view all 12,011 comments

charles_leclerc why are you always so mean to me y/n

yourusername im so sowwy charlie. will u ever forgive me??!!

charles_leclerc maybe. for some biscuits

yourusername ok deal i'll make u some biscuits

landonorris this is NOT fair

charles_leclerc suck it up little lando

user18 y/n in her biscuit era

user19 fr & the flowers are soo cute

carlossainz55 you literally love when he hangs out with us

yourusername 🤫 .

charles_leclerc ???

user20 LOL

oscarpiastri hi y/n

yourusername not you too

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 887,133 others

charles_leclerc winter break + biscuits 🍒

view all 9,819 comments

carlossainz55 lando is going to be so triggered

yourusername i told him to keep it HUSH.

landonorris WHAT IS THIS

landonorris ARE THOSE Y/N BISCUITS

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user21 someone make that boy some biscuits

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oscarpiastri justice for lando norris

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, danielricciardo, carlossainz55

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, estebanocon, and 822,643 others

carlossainz55 time flies

view all 16,193 comments

yourusername i love u so much cant wait to watch u this race season 🌶️

carlossainz55 my biggest supporter ❤️ i love you

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landonorris aww is that you guys baking biscuits for me together?? 😊

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charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

scuderiaferrari can't wait to have our favourite girl back in the paddock!

carlossainz55 you & me both

yourusername ❤️

user25 ferrari admin is just like us

user26 the pic of them baking together is too cute

user27 AND y/n in the ferrari jacket😭😭

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, georgerussell63, and 421,056 others

yourusername & we're back 🐎

view all 6,338 comments

user29 the nailssss

user30 she's so hot

alexandrasaintmleux so happy to be back to seeing u almost every weekend🙏

yourusername ME TOOO squealing & running round

charles_leclerc y/n you cant keep her for too long

yourusername i do what i want. sorry

alexandrasaintmleux 🤭🤭🤭

carlossainz55 my lucky charm 🍀

yourusername blushing omg. i love u

carlossainz55 and i love you

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user33 most supportive wag

yourusername posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and 83,415 others

charles_leclerc 😍

user34 omg sooo cute

user35 she's gorgeous

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yourusername where are u kika we want u with us

francisca.gomes omg tehe love you i'll come see you asap

user36 FERRARI WAGS BFFS

landonorris posted a story

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, and 201,738 others

carlossainz55 safe flight ✈️

charles_leclerc are you kidnapping her

landonorris no we're not all as crazy as you!

charles_leclerc behave 👎

user37 awwwww taking flights together they're besties

user38 she's just a girl fr

user39 stealing our girl away to smelly england?

yourusername posted a story

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, and 67,082 others

landonorris you should be making biscuits for me

yourusername i might if you stop being so desperate

landonorris 🤨

carlossainz55 cant wait to reunite with you this evening 💘

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yourusername we're not even in the same country unfortunately 😢 she knows i wish she was here to hang out

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, and 817,019 others

yourusername short stint in london 🇬🇧

view all 7,952 comments

lewishamilton the most beautiful couple

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55

oscarpiastri i love my parents

yourusername strange boy

carlossainz55 dont talk to our son like that y/n

oscarpiastri dad 🥹

yourusername ...my bad

user43 LOLLLL not y/n having no choice but to parent the rookies 🥹

user44 logan too i bet

charles_leclerc monaco next?

carlossainz55 we are literally always there??

charles_leclerc yeah well i miss you guys ok..

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user45 THE PAPER RINGS WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREAMED

landonorris aww look at you two

yourusername 😘 got some biscuits in the oven for you

landonorris NO WAY

landonorris posted a story

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 401,723 others

carlossainz55 my girl is beautiful AND generous

THE END ❤️

[ananxiousgenz]

MORE MALEVOLENT COWBOY AU GUYS!!!

welcome back to yet another chapter in this glorious little au of ours!! @percymawce-arts and I have been suuuuuper busy behind the scenes writing and like. we have some absolutely killer ideas that we cannot wait to share with you!! so enjoy this sad little scene for now <3

TRIGGER WARNINGS: alcohol consumption/drunkenness, fighting, references to murder, references to child death

and for tagging, @izel-reblogs @ellamenop and @platypus-with-interests I hope yall enjoy this just as much as you have with the rest <3

The moment he entered the cabin’s sitting room, John knew that something wasn’t quite right.

The shadows were all wrong. At this time of day, the sun usually cast soft shadows into the sitting room that left the table and couch awash in warmth and golden light. But the shadows were harsh, stark, cutting through the couch and leaving the table shrouded in darkness. As if the world itself knew that something was wrong. And something was wrong.

For one, Arthur was slumped over the table in the far corner, shoulders racked with either laughter or sobs, John couldn’t tell. For another, there was a bottle of whiskey clutched in his right hand, more than half empty. There was no glass in sight.

John hooked a finger over the bandanna covering his face and pulled it off, hanging it quietly beside his hat on a rack near the door. As he did so, he stared long and hard at Arthur, studying him, debating whether he should approach him. In a relatively short time, John had already seen a great many things from Arthur: bravery, conviction, intelligence, compassion. Drunkenness, however, was a new one, and he had no idea what to expect from Arthur with half a bottle in his system. It didn’t look pleasant.

After a long moment of chewing on his thumbnail, John decided he was more concerned about Arthur than afraid of him (but only by a thin margin, he realized) and took a step in his direction. He tried to step lightly, but the damn floorboards decided right then would be the perfect moment to creak beneath his feet. Arthur’s head snapped up the moment he heard the noise, clearly not drunk enough to lose touch with his instincts. John froze, like a gazelle suddenly caught in the gaze of a lion.

“John? Izzat you?” Arthur slurred, eyes darting sightlessly across the room.

“Yes, Arthur, it’s me,” John replied, forced to exhale in order to speak. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t breathing before that moment, and now that he was he tried to keep it level as he inched closer to the table, little by little.

“Oh,” Arthur sighed, and he sounded almost disappointed. “‘S funny,” he mumbled through tears (there were streaks of them running down his red cheeks and his eyes were puffy, he’d been crying for a while) as he took another swig of whiskey. “Thought you were someone else.” He clutched the bottle to his chest the way one might hold a precious child.

Despite himself (or, perhaps because of the nerves) John chuckled, “Might I ask who?”

“‘S’name was Parker.” Arthur sniffled and then stared solemnly at the tabletop, picking at a loose splinter of wood with shaking hands. “M’old partner.”

“Oh,” said John, halting in his motion towards Arthur. His fists clenched, his hackles rose and he was beginning to suspect he wanted no part in this conversation. He was about to turn tail and leave when Arthur started talking again.

“He was a good man, y’know. Reallll…. tough. Strong. Kind, too. Lot like you.” He nodded emphatically to himself, as though confirming information someone had questioned the truth of. As though he was proving something to himself.

John swallowed. “I’m sure he was.”

“Saved my life, way back when. I was…” Arthur waved away a painful memory with an unsteady hand and made a faint sputtering noise. “Back in Boston. I was jus’ drunk all the time. Made the stupid-ass decision to head out here. Thought it would be easier to die in a cattle stampede or from th’ heat or s’mthing.”

John still wasn’t sure where this was going, but it was the most Arthur had ever willingly shared with him about his past, so maybe he wouldn’t leave just yet. He, slowly, quietly, pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and sat down.

“‘Was drunk and in debt at well near every bar in town,” Arthur continued, a small smile spreading across his face as he had another swig from the bottle clutched in his hand. “Was fixin’ to get myself killed by debt collectors sooner than by the drink, I reckon. Parker found me one night. I was… inna bad way. Real bad. He said I looked like… like I’d hit bedrock, and–,” Arthur chuckled mirthlessly. “‘Course he was right. He was always right.”

Arthur went quiet for a moment as a few more tears escaped his eyes. He wiped them away roughly on his forearm and sniffled again.

“And?” John prompted gently after a long moment.

A cruel laugh tore its way out of Arthur’s throat, making John flinch. “And you killed him.”

Arthur’s gaze rose from the table to look John dead in the eye. There was a vicious fire burning in that dark and stormy expression, like a bonfire, barely contained. It left John frozen in place again, his breath caught in his throat and any words in his defense stuck along with it.

“You shot him, f’r nothin’.” More laughter bubbled out of Arthur, along with tears. “F’r a mission that didn’t even exist! Just bam–,” Arthur mimicked shooting himself in the head–, “gone. Dropped like a… like a fucking ragdoll!” Arthur doubled over suddenly, dropping his head into his free hand as giggles made it impossible for him to speak properly. “You, you killed the man who saved my life! Made it worth living again!”

John got up out of his chair and slowly began backing away. “Arthur, I-”

“You killed him!” Arthur yelled, lifting his head from his hand. The laughter was gone, now, and had been replaced by fire in Arthur’s voice that matched his expression, fueled by the whiskey and grief he had already thrown onto it. John opened his mouth to say something else, but abandoned that plan to duck instead as a half-full bottle of whiskey was hurled at his head. He managed to dodge it in the nick of time, watching as it sailed over his head and shattered against the cabin wall behind him with a crash. Glass fell in pieces to the floor and whiskey stained the wall dark, dripping and slowly soaking into the wood like blood into fabric.

Arthur’s eyes were wide and wild as he stumbled out from behind the table towards John, who was beginning to wish he had never even returned to the cabin in the first place as he continued backing away, nearly tripping over what little furniture they had as he went.

“You… you fucking… He’s dead, he– she’s dead. Gone, just like him. They’re dead, and it’s all because of you! It’s all… your fault…” And for a moment, John could have sworn Arthur wasn’t talking to him, the way he whispered it, his voice laced with a pain that John had never heard from him before. “All your fault…” he said again. But then the anger was back, the expression burning like fire in his eyes as he scowled at John. “All your fucking fault! Fuck you, John!” Arthur shouted, spitting the words out like snake venom as John felt a wall begin to close in behind him.

Behind the panicked, animal fear of the moment, John’s mind caught on something in Arthur’s drunken rambling. She. Gone just like him. They’re dead. He was no longer just talking about Parker. A woman, perhaps? An old love, a young flame put out too soon? Or… or a girl. A child re-emerging from the fog of Arthur’s mysterious past. Someone who had died… because of John? Or someone else? It didn’t make sense. John didn’t hurt women or children as a personal rule, a piece of his early life that the cruelty and anger of boarding school and Larson had never been able to fully scrub away. So then who was Arthur blaming for her loss if not him?

“Arthur, who the fuck is she?!” John finally snapped, words finally coming unstuck in his throat as his back was pressed against the wall. Arthur stumbled forward and furiously grabbed a fistful of his shirt, the sour smell of whiskey on his breath completely overwhelming this close.

“She deserved better than this, you selfish–,”

“Arthur, please. I don’t even know who you’re talking about, would you just tell me-”

“You killed her too!” More tears were sliding down Arthur’s face now. At such a close distance, John could see them glinting in the dim light as he was yanked forward by his shirt.

“Who, Arthur? Who did I kill?!”

“FAROE!”

“ARTHUR, WHO THE HELL IS FAROE?!”

It was like a gun had gone off in a crowded saloon. Arthur’s mouth closed so quickly that John almost swore he heard a tooth crack with the motion. Both of them were breathing heavily, and Arthur stared at John with an expression that melted from one emotion to the next like wax off a candle. From confusion to recognition to a look of such agonizing horror and grief that John’s heart broke at the sight of it. Arthur released John's shirt like it was a hot iron burning his hand and took an unsteady step backward, mumbling an apology about alcohol and short tempers, and John could see the beginnings of a fresh wave of tears bubbling up in Arthur’s eyes.

That name. Faroe. It clearly touched a nerve with Arthur, some old hurt he had never quite healed from, some loss that had never scarred over. It almost seemed to… scare him. John had never seen Arthur Lester so clearly terrified as he’d been in that moment, when the fog had cleared and he’d realized what he’d said. It made the hair at the back of John’s neck stand on end, made his jaw clench and his breath catch in his lungs. Anything that could scare Arthur like this… John couldn’t even begin to imagine what it might be.

Arthur swayed back and forth for a moment, a dead, brittle branch rocking in a great wind, until he finally snapped, falling gracelessly to the floor with a broken sob. John reached out, whether to catch him or comfort him he didn’t know, but stopped short. He had never been soft or gentle, never good at providing comfort to people who needed it. Never been comfortable with people crying or being vulnerable, but…

For Arthur, he would do it. He didn’t quite understand why, but it was the fact that it was Arthur Lester, a crumpled, sobbing mess on the floor before him, that convinced him to slowly lower himself to the floor beside him, listening to the choked sounds of his agony with a bleeding heart of his own.

Even then, John still hesitated to reach out. Connections only caused pain, he’d learned that the hard way. But he just couldn’t help himself. As much as he liked to be aloof and mysterious and pretend he was above human connection, he cared far too much for the people around him. For Yellow, Noel, Oscar, even Larson, in some fucked up way. For drunken, angry, grieving Arthur. It was the thing that always ended up getting him in trouble. But for Arthur…

John reached a careful hand around Arthur’s shoulders. “I… I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Even if he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, it was true. He was sorry Arthur had gone through something so painful, sorry that he was hurting now. Sorry he couldn’t fix it. Sorry he’d killed Parker.

To John’s surprise, Arthur leaned his head into his shoulder almost immediately, shivering with the force of his sobs, following the offer of comfort like he’d been starving for it. He smelled like cheap whiskey and salty tears and clung to John like he was an anchor in the white-water rapids of his grief.

It didn’t come naturally, at first, comforting Arthur. John’s spine was ramrod straight and his arms were stiff, his expression schooled carefully into something mildly pained but mostly indifferent. But Arthur took what he could get, clinging and sobbing and squeezing despite John’s stoicism. But the closer Arthur got, the more apparent it became that their bodies would fit together better if John just moved his leg here, held his arm here, shifted Arthur’s leg this way. The longer Arthur stayed, the more courage John’s hands had in moving, gently massaging the back of Arthur’s neck or running his fingers through his hair, stroking a light line up and down his spine. The same soothing motions he used for Akke, the ones he’d probably learned from a mother, somewhere, once upon a time. Some instinct buried deep in his subconscious, an instinct to care. Finally resurfaced by seeing Arthur Lester in need of it.

Eventually, Arthur had ended up halfway in John’s lap, legs thrown across John’s in a tangled sort of side saddle. His eyes were pressed into John’s neck, the last of his shuddering cries fanning across the skin there. John had graduated from soothing touches to soothing sounds, shhs and I knows and you’re alrights whispered into Arthur’s auburn hair. They’d been rocking back and forth, back and forth, slowly for the past long while. Finally, Arthur’s cries became hiccups, became shuddering breaths, until their little cabin was quiet again. There was a bluebird singing outside, somewhere.

“Arthur..?” John whispered, tentatively. Arthur inhaled sharply, his frown deepening. John held him tighter.

“Please don’t ask,” Arthur managed, near silent. “Please don’t–,” he hiccuped, on the verge of tears again, and John resumed his gentle ministrations in his hair, shushing him.

“I won’t, Arthur,” he soothed. He let his lips fall to the crown of Arthur’s head. Not a kiss, but something intentional nonetheless, punctuated by a puff of warm breath against his scalp. “I won’t ask.”

[2demondogs]

You Could Do Anything | Kieran/Reader

Tags: Love confession in his own bittersweet way, first kiss, shotgunning, gender-neutral reader Word Count: 1k A/N: Quick fill for Kinktober. It is SFW tho. Stream Blew.

Kieran bummed enough cigarettes off of you the past week that you bought him his own pack. He acted like you'd gave him a lock of your hair, grinning big and dumb. Lucky cigarettes were a new concept to him, and he insisted you turn the first one because it feels like it means somethin'.

"Two luckies," he said. "Makes us twice as lucky!"

Nevermind that they weren't so much for luck as a promise, or that no one had ever made him that promise before.

Maybe it does mean something.

That sweet boy seems far away, now. It's late, sure, and you've met him on the riverbank outside the Outlook more than once in the past week — so clearly he isn't sleeping too well.

"Sometimes I wonder why I keep on livin'," Kieran is saying, flicks the built-up ash off his cigarette and onto the grass and sand between his boots. His knees are curled up to his chest, resting easily in the arm that curls around his shins yet still pressed protectively over his vitals. "'S like life wants me to find somethin'... go somewhere."

For his difficulty finding them, he's awful fine with words when he wants to be. You can tell he's been thinking more lately, running the same-old, same-old through his head over and over in a way unlike himself.

You accept it when he offers you the smoke, the man watching the moon cast shadows over your form as you take a drag. His eyes sting the skin of your hand and cheek, burning with the need to express... something.

Normally, his emotions are easy to read from his face. Kieran has been through so much, yet he never has learned how to hide. Or maybe he has always trusted you in some pre-destined way that neither of you cared to resist, and you've learned his language on accident; either way, all you can see in the twitching of his mouth and eyes is uncertainty.

"What do you think that is?" You ask, handing the cigarette back. His fingers linger.

"Dunno," he admits, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. It sounds like a lie. He looks over the water, the ripples drawn on the surface by rascal fish every now and then, and you follow his gaze. "Jus' seems funny, lookin' back. Ma 'n' Pa die, but I don't? Then everyone else keeps dyin', 'n' I don't. Not even when Arthur had me at the wrong end of his barrel." He makes a face, glances around as if checking that every rock is in the same place as a few seconds ago. "Gotta be some— purpose 'bout me."

You nod, pressing a thumb to your lips. "I think there is," you say after a moment. What you really want to say is: you've got something good inside you, Kieran, something unsoiled.

Kieran goes quiet with the cigarette perched between his lips and you fear scaring him off with that intensity. Smoke comes out of his nostrils with each breath. You're somewhat impressed that he can already handle so much tobacco in and out at once. He told you never smoked much, too broke to buy and too unliked to bum.

Watching his face again instead of the night, his eyes look tired, bagged heavily. You want nothing more than to reach out and touch his hair, to smooth your hand down his freckled neck and bring his head to your chest.

Something about him always triggers this instinct to protect. He can hold his own, but does he really deserve to need to?

What is—

Shit, what is love if not this overwhelming need to carry the weight for someone else?

Kieran turns as you're studying him, his face flickering through a reel of feelings before settling on one familiar, yet unnamed. He opens his mouth and plucks the smoke from his lips in one smooth movement, then pauses before speaking; green eyes glaze over with sudden inhibition looking at yours, then break away to study his own fingers and how they hold the orange filter of the cigarette.

"Thinking so hard you forgot what it was?" You tease, brows raised.

His laughter is nervous, cheeks rosy as you lean in closer. He glances up. "Thinkin' was gettin' hard, in fact," he says, takes a drag and rubs the back of his neck.

Ash falls as he does it, and you reach over to brush it off the back of his coat. It happens as quickly as the gray stuff fell and smeared its mark down the dark fabric beneath your fingertips: his hand loops around your wrist and he breaths hard before he is breathing you, those exhausted eyes softened with affection and inches from your own, wide with amused surprise.

Heat finds your face even before he quickly takes another drag — to boost his confidence, probably not even thinking it through — and smoke is half-exhaled into your mouth as his presses to yours in a sloppy attempt at shotgunning you a suave first kiss. Your spine itches with the gesture, as poorly executed as it is.

Yanking his hand towards you by your captured wrist, you grab his scruffy jaw in the other to keep him close. He tastes like tobacco and something metallic; he needs to eat more, tastes like empty. Lips part and brush as you retreat enough to let the smoke wisp from between your faces, lashes tickling each other.

The cigarette falls to the ground, his eyes roaming over your face in a near-panicky search. Kieran is looking at you like he's just killed you and doesn't know what to do with the body — he seems to have used all his confidence in one fell swoop, the air tangible with how his brain flounders as you press a second, short kiss to his lips.

"I— I think..." he begins, voice shakey with the sheer force behind it. He leans back, clears his throat and takes another hard breath. "Think you're part of it. That somethin'. You know?"

Your chest feels squeezed. "Yes," you say. "I do know."

[diaryofasentimentalist]

— i dial drunk // ex!leon

pairing: leon kennedy x reader

tags: angst, exes, drunk dial, very mild sexual content

summary: your ex calls you in the middle of the night to reminisce on the good times, but you'd rather not. (2.7k)

a/n: lots of jumping between the current phone call and their past memories so just mind the verb tense!

The ringing finds you in your dreams, a vexing trill that you can’t seem to find the source of no matter how long you search, that doesn’t stop no matter how long you wait it out. When it finally pulls you from your sleep, you reach over and silence the tone without so much as twitching an eyelid. The grating vibrations of your phone against the nightstand continue as the call finishes ringing out.

Another shrill tone startles you, shattering the silence as soon as you feel yourself drifting off again. Groggily, you pat around on the nightstand until you find your phone again and bring it to your ear, eyes barely cracking open enough to find the green 'accept' button.

“Hello?” you mumble into the receiver, eyes straining open. It’s pitch black. Nowhere near dawn. Good news never comes at this hour.

“God, I missed the sound of your voice.”

That voice you’d know anywhere snakes its way into your ear, straight down your throat and into your chest, where it settles around your heart, squeezing tightly. You’re wide awake now, burning eyes forcing their way open, pulse quickening as you lay still in bed, paralyzed.

“Leon,” you say hoarsely, your voice still thick with sleep.

Your name echoes back to you on a sigh, your chest constricting at the homesickness of it all.

“I told you not to call me anymore,” you say, measured and even in spite of the way it feels like you can’t breathe.

“I know, baby,” he says, words slightly slurred. “But I jus’ missed you… wanted to hear your voice again…”

“You’re drunk.”

It’s not a question or an accusation, just a statement. It’s in his voice, in the way he called you multiple times at such an hour. In the way he’s calling you baby again, telling you openly how much he misses you. Leon has too much good sense— or maybe just pride— to pester you when he’s sober. Even on the rare occasion when he’s run into you in public since the break up, he just watched you from afar, a strange expression on his face. Get enough alcohol in him, though, and he’s right back to the desperation of the day you first left.

“S’that obvious, huh?” he says with a low laugh. The sound triggers the thing that has settled in your chest to tighten once more, sends another stabbing pain straight to your heart as you stare up at the dark ceiling. “Sorry, baby. I know you hate it when I drink.”

“Hated,” you correct. It doesn’t matter. Even if he remembers this conversation when he’s sober, it won’t stop him from talking the same way next time he drunk dials. “I don’t care what you do anymore, Leon, so long as you leave me out of it.” You shift onto your other side, breaking through the strange paralysis that had overtaken you. The digital alarm clock on your nightstand is waiting to greet you. 2:23 AM. “But you can’t even do that. God, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Nighttime?” he offers, sounding unbothered. “Did I wake you? We always used to stay up this late.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as an involuntary wave of memories floods through you. There were a lot of late nights when you were together. The lack of consistent sleep schedule never bothered you then. You were always just happy to be spending time with him in whatever way. Sometimes you’d be out on the balcony, lights off, clinging to one another as you talked on the wicker settee. Sometimes you’d watch late night tv, lying on the couch with him on top of you, nuzzling into your neck while you traced patterns into his back beneath his shirt. Sometimes you’d lie atop the mound of pillows on the bed, his head buried between your thighs as you gasped and sighed and moaned his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I have work tomorrow,” you say coldly, bidding the images to stop. “Goodbye, Leon.”

He cuts in before you can hang up, carrying on as though you hadn’t said anything at all. “Remember when you got that craving for muffins at midnight?”

Of course you do. You’d been having another late night with Leon, the tv droning on in the background while the two of you dozed on and off, when he’d finally suggested the two of you retire to bed. A commercial for some cereal came on just before the screen went black, and the second you saw the mock breakfast spread, that was it. You needed a muffin. Leon laughed off your suggestion at first. As soon as he realized how serious you were, though, he’d pulled you up and to the kitchen, and you’d gotten to work. His offers to help you culminated in him keeping a hand firmly planted on your waist at all times, watching you measure the ingredients out, and kissing the back of your head every so often. But you were at his apartment, and he wasn’t much of a baker, and so you’d only realized halfway through that he didn’t have all of the things you needed, no brown sugar or vanilla or even cinnamon.

Feeling defeated, you’d relented that you could just finish tomorrow. Wordlessly, Leon left the kitchen, returning a moment later with his keys jingling around his finger and tossing you a jacket. He took you to the nearest 24-hour supermarket, your hand never dropping his as you led him along the aisles, giggling. Even now, you recall the distinct domesticity of it all, how you’d felt so normal, like you could have a real life with him some day.

Leon kept a hand on your thigh the whole drive back, taking the long way home just to prolong the moment, and you were so glad you could watch the wind from the open windows rifle through his hair just a little longer, drink in the sight of the passing street lights flickering across his skin. When you finally got home, he was touchier than before as you finished your baking expedition. The moment the tray was in the oven you were upon him, legs wrapped around his waist as he hoisted you onto the counter, pulling you closer, always closer. You’d been so distracted that you’d let the muffins bake a little too long until the smell reminded you what you’d stayed up for. The edges had started to burn, the cinnamon crumble on top hardening just a bit too much, and you’d insisted that you could do better, but he assured you—

“Best damn muffins I’ve ever had,” Leon rambles on. “Been to a million bakeries, can’t find anything like them…”

Why is he telling you all this?

Why is he making you remember?

Now that the memory has started, you can’t stop it, the scenes rolling in your mind like a film. After indulging in the baked goods, he’d carried you to his room, house still smelling of cinnamon and vanilla. It must’ve been well past three by the time he was laying you back against the bed gently, but neither of you were tired. The earlier impatience in his movements had dissipated, and he took his time with you, his hands caressing your body while yours explored his with equal devotion—

“I miss how you felt in my hands,” he says suddenly, as though his thoughts have followed the same natural trajectory as yours.

You remember his hands on your hips, firm, secure, anchoring you to him. The way his calloused palms felt against your smooth skin. The way his touch dripped with reverence, like he was perpetually caught between the desire to treat you like something delicate and the desire to have more of you, that hungry conflict always reflected in his piercing blue eyes—

“I miss how you looked under me,” he continues.

You remember throwing your head back, how he’d dip in to kiss along the exposed column of your neck before littering affection across your face. How it would suddenly stop, sometimes, and when you’d look up at him expectantly, you’d find him gazing down at you in equal parts awe and adoration. The moment you reached up for him he’d come back down and—

“I miss how your lips fit against mine.”

“You’re so selfish,” you interject, unwilling to entertain this any longer, afraid of what might happen if you do. “Waking me up on a work night so you have someone to reminisce with?”

“I know, baby,” he says, a self-deprecating laugh tumbling through the phone, twisting your stomach. “I was a shit boyfriend and I’m a shittier ex.”

That’s not true. He was a wonderful boyfriend, except when he wasn’t. He was always affectionate with you, except when he wanted to be alone… always warm and patient with you, except when he would withdraw… always understanding and attentive, except when he’d drink… It’s just that the times he wasn’t there for you were so hard, and over time, they’d gotten more and more frequent. Nothing you did to try to reach him, to be there for him, to support him, ever seemed to get through to him. Eventually, it was all too much.

Yet anytime you hear his voice, it’s always the good that comes to mind. It overwhelms you, makes you question why you ever left. A single word from Leon makes you curse the day you walked away. Only when you’re alone, in silence, away from the inexplicable effect of his presence, can you truly remember how the lows felt. The isolation of it all, the pain, the waiting. The disappointment over and over and over again.

The rest of that night comes to you now, floating in through the open window with the August breeze. How strange to think that was a whole year ago. After making love, he’d held you for a time, and you were content there, as sweaty and warm as it was, but he’d carried you to the shower with him. It was mostly silent, save for the pitter-patter of the water against the tile. He lathered your hair for you, and you scrubbed his back, pressing kisses against his wet shoulders. By the time the two of you were toweled and dressed in fresh clothes, it was late— or early— enough that you’d decided to stay up and watch the sun rise. You’d snuggled closer to him out on the balcony, the early morning air chilling you slightly as your still wet hair dripped onto your shoulders. He’d pulled you in, his body a natural furnace, and wrapped you in his arms.

God, you’ve never felt that safe anywhere else.

“Yeah, you are.” The words are laced with forced venom, and it burns to speak them. “That’s why you shouldn’t call me anymore.”

“I know.” There’s a pause on the other end. “You should block me.”

His words shatter something inside you. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” he drawls. “You could just block me. But you won’t.”

“Leon.”

“Because you still think about me, too, don’t you?”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“And if you blocked me,” he rambles on, “then you’d really never hear from me again.”

“Go fuck yourself, actually.”

Laughter filters in and out of earshot, like the receiver keeps drifting from his lips, but he doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches on for one minute, two. A part of your conversation from that night on the balcony strikes you.

“Why not?” you’d asked him, tearing your gaze away from the brightening horizon to stare up at him, at the distant look in his blue eyes. Somehow, the subject of past relationships had come up. It wasn’t something either of you really cared about, but he’d just disclosed that he hadn’t really had a long term relationship with anyone before you. Most women left before things got serious, he’d said, and he never asked them to stay, to give it a real shot. He shrugged, using the motion to tug you closer.

“I can’t ask that of anyone. I don’t really deserve to. If someone wants to leave, I get it.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “That means you, too, when you finally get sick of me one day.”

“Never,” you said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek as he chuckled. A few strands of sandy hair tickled your nose. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?”

“Oh, darling, I know. I’m afraid I’ll be stuck with you long after you’re gone.”

The offhand remark didn’t make sense to you at the time, and when you asked him what he meant, he refused to elaborate, merely remarking on the emerging colors in the sky.

You get it now. And if you’d got it then, you would have been afraid, too.

Time moves on for everyone else, but not you two. Something happened when you stormed out of his apartment on that rainy night back in April, staining the fabric of time, marring your life with an inescapable loop. Just when you start to feel normal, you’re forced to relive the raw heartache all over again, as if it’s only been four days, not months, since you left. It happens every single time his name pops up on your caller ID. Every so often, when you think— with a surge of dread that you refuse to acknowledge— that he might finally have moved on, he calls again.

Never to ask you to come back, though. Never to ask you for another chance.

Just to reminisce.

Hot tears stream out of the corners of your eyes, landing on your pillow with muted plops. You make no effort to stop them or wipe them away, silent for fear that your voice will betray you if you try to speak now. You hate it, but even crying in bed like this makes you think of him, the feeling of his chest against your back, his silent strength when he’d comfort you during moments of weakness.

“Leon?” you call, wondering if he finally passed out. Hoping that if he did, he’s at least in bed, or on the couch, or somewhere safe. Warm. Not huddled outside of some seedy bar, or hunched over the filthy curb.

“I may be selfish, sweetheart” he says finally, his voice husky, “but you’re just cruel.” You can only blink up at the ceiling, tears momentarily stayed as you wrack your brain for what he’s responding to. “You answer my calls just to tell me how much you don’t want them.”

If the fight weren’t draining out of you, you might snap back at him that he doesn’t have to call in the first place, that he should take a hint, that he should delete your number altogether. Instead, all you can do is let his words hang there while you contemplate them.

Maybe it is cruel. When he calls you like this, asking if you remember, he’s asking something more. Questions he could never verbalize, but that remain implicit in what he says. Do all those little moments mean as much to you as they do to me? Do the memories haunt you like they haunt me? Do you miss it like I do?

Leon won’t ask you to come back, no. But he wants to know if you’ve ever considered it on your own.

“Goodnight, Leon,” you say suddenly, forcing the words past the painful lump in your throat. You can't keep doing this, can't keep letting him tear you down just because he's found himself at the bottom of another bottle. “I hope you learn how to take better care of yourself one day.”

“I hope you find someone better to take care of one day.” At first, you think he’s just scrambled up your words in his drunken stupor in an effort to throw them back at you. But then he speaks again, and you know he meant exactly what he said. “Hey, I’m glad you left. Happy for you, I mean. You deserve better than me." Something terrible is building up in your chest, threatening to climb up your throat if he doesn't stop. "I love—”

You hang up before he can hear the way your breath shudders.

[jhoneybees]

The prettiest man.

Hehehe I just love our shy man🤭

Characters: Late 60!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: insecurities

Tags: @elvisalltheway101 @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a

_____________________________________________

Elvis and you have always been very truthful to each other when it comes to insecurities. You brought that communication in the relationship and when he would come to you to ask if he looked good in his outfits, hats, whatever, you'd smile and tell him he looks good in everything.

Not in a nice, ‘because I'm your girlfriend’ kind of way, you genuinely think he looks ravishing in anything.

Even in a clown suit for crying out loud.

There are some things you don't know he's insecure about though, until one afternoon you were about to open the bedroom door and walk in. You catch the sight of Elvis sitting on the bed in his silky navy blue pyjamas, reading his bible…with glasses?

“Elvis?” You call out, cautiously pushing the door open seeing him snatch the glasses off his face and hide them under the blankets.

“Hi, baby.” He answers, looking over at you with a smile and clearing his throat.

“What’chu doing?”

You pad quietly, along the carpet and stand next to the bed in your pink nightgown. Glancing down at the bible in his lap.

“Jus' readin’... D-Did you need somethin’?” his voice, deep and rumbly.

You shake your head, gently picking up the book and straddling his lap. “Just missed you.”

Elvis takes his bible back from your hold, putting it aside and sliding his hands up your thighs, he hums smiling softly. “Hm?”

“Missed you.” You repeat. Resting your hands between your thighs on his lap.

He chuckles, squeezing your flesh a little. “I heard you, baby.”

You lean in to peck his lips and observe his face for a moment.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I didn't know you wore glasses.”

The smile he had dissolves and his face turns beet red. Averting his eyes away all of a sudden. “What do you mean? I-I-I don't have any glasses.”

You tilt your head to the side, the corners of your lips poking at your cheeks. “There's no need to be embarrassed, Elvis.”

“A-Ah don't know what yer talkin' ‘bout.” He mumbles with a slight frown.

You giggle at his shy state and kiss his cheek. “Can I see ‘em?”

“See what?”

“Yer glasses.”

“What glasses?”

“Elvis…” You laugh, quirking an eyebrow at his eyes, hesitantly flicking up to yours. “Please?”

He grumbles slightly and starts to fidget with the silk fabric of your nightie. “I don't know, darlin'...”

“Bet you'll look real handsome in them.” You encourage, lightly. Nodding with sparkly eyes as he looks for reassurance. “Go on…”

He grumbles again and then sighs, digging underneath the blanket beside him pulling out the pair of glasses he's been hiding. Delicately holding them in both hands.

He gazes up at you again and you nod quietly, smiling to show comfort.

Then he slides them on and the sight makes your heart melt.

“Oh Elvis…” Gasping softly as he uses his index and thumb to adjust them a little with a shy little boy look in his eye.

“I look old in ‘em.” He mutters.

You frown in confusion and tell him otherwise, lifting his chin up with one finger. “No, you're so handsome.”

He whines a little. “Yer jus’ saying that.”

“Nonsense.” You say, reaching up to run your fingers through his dark hair. Grinning at how adorable he looks.

“Wish you were my teacher at school.”

You giggle. Placing loving little kisses on his lips as he groans and tries to take his glasses off.

“No…”

“Yes.” pulling his hands away. Playfully pecking his cheeks and mouth making him complain but you continue on.

“Baby!” Elvis carefully pushes you and turns his face away.

You start to laugh and peck him once more on the temple, earning a grumble.

Touching his cheek to bring his shy gaze to face you. Smiling gently.

You hum, earnestly.

“You’re the prettiest man I have ever laid eyes on.”