#like your gas pipes

[theoverlordmisha]

This is a busy week... mnufc game earlier tonight (they won!), Zach Bryan concert tomorrow night, supervisor huddle on Thursday, Ed Sheeran on Saturday (and thankfully Nashville also won, so no overlapping mnufc game). Plus normal work, which I'm definitely falling behind on mostly because I hate voicemails with a heated passion. But also like, if I start to recognize your number cause you call me multiple times in one day you're going straight to voicemail. Sorry not sorry.

[elegantartisanperson]

Hi hello friend!

As it is almost the Spooky Season (yes i know its September), do you have any halloween or all hallow's eve traditions from your area? How do you celebrate?

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!! hellooooo!!!!!!! hiiii!! I mean yeah, it is only ALMOST the Spooky Season, but I've already started looking for halloween decorations I could get myself lol. I love halloween and the Spooky Season so much!!

I come from a very religious and conservative area and to add to that Halloween is not popular in Poland in my expierence. The only time I’ve heard about trick or treating was like 2 years ago when my aunt was complaining about trick or treaters.

There’s a christian holiday called „all saints day” (Wszystkich Świętych” in polish) on the first of november and I’m pretty sure it’s the more popular holiday here. Basically it’s about visiting your dead relatives graves and lighting the candles on them. Never really celebrated halloween, despite liking it. I'd like to watch friday the 13th this week, since I've never watched it was friday the 13th yesterday. I've also thought about trying to watch at least one horror movie every week this Spooky Season and do a marathon on the weekend closest to halloween. I love scary movies.

If you want to hear a "silly" story regarding halloween, last year during RE lesson the priest told us he saw on FACEBOOK how halloween actually means "Hell's win" and how it's terrible, satanist and anti christian etc.

I’ve tried explaining that it means hallow’s eve and how it’s just a fun thing for people to do, especially for children. But he was not having it, interrupted me mid sentence, started talking louder and louder as I was finishing my sentence (in a monotone voice, I was not being loud in the slightest lol) and he went on about how it's satanist, Eviiiiil and sinister and anti - christian for children to dress up as fictional characters and eat candy until a few people in the back googled it and told him I was right on the meaning and he slowly stopped. Yeah dude, if you talk just slightly louder whatever u r saying might just about become true, that’s how truth’s determined, you were this close🤏. You should try interrupting people and ignoring what they say more often🙄

[ohnonotthehorrors]

I love blocking people with just… the Loudest and worst takes ever. It feels so vindicating. It’s like telling someone to ‘Go Touch Grass’ but you never even have to acknowledge or speak to them. <3

[strawbvrriluv]

can u do a fic where reader goes on a road trip with the triplets and thier parents but there’s no room for reader in the car so she has to sit on matts lap and he gets turned on so they sneakily have sex

Road Trips … Am I right?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʀᴏᴀᴅ ᴛʀɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀɴᴛꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴄᴜꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ (ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ)

꧁༺ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ༻꧂

Y/n POV

I heard a honk outside of my house as I walked out and saw the Sturniolo’s car. I waved and walked to behind the car opening the trunk and putting my luggage with everyone else’s.

I closed the door and opened the back seat to be greeting with the triplets in the back seat…

“Oh sorry I forgot to tell you our parents decided to come as well and we took one car. You have to sit on Matt’s lap if that’s okay?”

Nick my best friend told me smiling sheepishly as I furrowed my brows about to speak.

“It’s fine”

Matt said giving me a look of annoyance as I huffed and glared at Matt before smiling at Nick. I entered the car and sat down on Matt’s lap.

I gave a smile to Mr and Mrs Sturniolo, “So Nick tells us you want to get into vlogging and all that stuff they’re doing as well?”

Mr. Jimmy asked looking at me through the mirror as I nodded.

“Yeah, I have loved filming since I was younger and now that I’m an adult I want to explore different kinds of things. Of course, I still have my regular job.”

Mr.Jimmy nodded as Mrs.Marylou piped in.

“Should we get some snacks before we leave the area?”

Chris immediately nodded his head, “Yes we should”.

I smiled at Chris’s enthusiasm as Nick rolled his eyes at his younger brother. Matt on the other hand was dead silent. I mean it’s normal for him, but this was different. He was like a ghost.

“Matt you okay?”

Chris asked him as he sat in the middle seat.

“Yea. Just tired.”

He replied his hands moving onto my lap fidgeting with his rings as we hit a bump.

I kind of slammed down on his lap as he gasped a bit. I slid down a bit so I moved more onto his lap feeling something hard.

“Matt is your phone on your lap?”

I whispered looking back at him as his face got a shade of pink.

“That’s not my phone idiot”

He whispered back into my ear as the look of confusion on my face dropped into an embarrassed one.

“Oh”

Was all I said before turning back around and going onto my phone to play subway surfers to try and ignore Matt.

Matt sighed deeply into my shoulder as he grabbed my hips pulling them in closer to his own. I widened my eyes opening my messages and texting Matt.

Matt put his phone down as his hand slid onto my thigh squeezing it softly as he yawned.

“Yo Chris hand me the blanket I wanna get some sleep and Y/n’s practically freezing”

Matt lied yawning after the sentence again as Chris gave him a blanket. He put it on the both of us because it was the only way for him to also be covered.

As soon as it covered my body his hand rode down into my skirt and down to my panties. He pressed two fingers on my clit through the fabric as I pressed my thighs together.

His hand moved upwards and into my panties as his middle finger and ring finger slid in between my folds touching my now aching clit. He rubbed circles softly as he rested his head on my shoulder his body grinding into my softly.

Since we were in a moving car it wasn’t obvious what was going on. Thank god.

He picked up the speed of the rubbing as I leaned more into him trying everything to not make a sound.

“Fuck”

He whispered in my ear as another bump in the road caused me to slam onto his lap. I closed my eyes and laid back on Matt like I was going to try and sleep. I felt Matt move his fingers out of my skirt and onto my hips as he rocked me back and forth agaisnt him.

The friction of our clothes building up as he stopped as his dad turned into an empty gas station.

He parked the car as he looked at the Triplet’s, “I would say let’s all go but Y/n is sleeping so everyone else but Matt come on.”

“Yknow what I want right?”

Matt asked Chris as he nodded, everyone left the car leaving us alone. I opened my eyes as Matt shook me.

“Turn around”

I moved around so I was facing him as he kissed me harshly. I kissed him back my hands going into his hair as his hands went under my skirt moving my shorts to the side. He undid the ties of his sweatpants pulling it down just enough for his dick to spring out.

“Oh god”

I said almost drooling at the sight of his dick, it was … Just big enough to stretch me out but not hurt me.

My right hand went down in between us as I jerked hi off a few times.

“Don’t tease me. Hurry up before they get back.”

I nodded and positioned myself ontop of him as he moved his dick back and forth collecting my wetness before he slammed me down.

“AH”

I screamed into his shoulder, I clenched as Matt didn’t wait for me to get used to his size. He began fucking me from under the only sounds in the car being me moaning and whining and the sounds of my wetness.

“Mmm.. Oh fuck yeah. Just like that baby. Take me like that. Your sweet sweet pussy is so good for me. I wanna fuck you until you can’t walk”

Matt groaned as I began moving up and down on his dick as well.

“You fill me up so well”

I said as he kissed me, his hands cupping my ass as he picked up the speed.

“I’m going to fucking cum.. Please let me cum inside that tight little pussy of yours”

Matt groaned his head falling back as I nodded frantically.

“Please please please”

I cried feeling my climax coming. My head fell down into your shoulder as I felt my body tremble. I clenched around him as he moaned loudly.

“Fuck.. I’m cumming.. I’m-“

I felt his hot liquid shot inside me as he slowed his pace down. He grabbed my jaw as he moved my face up to meet his.

He kissed me softly before pulling out.

“You felt so fucking good”

Matt muttered as he turned me around fixing his belt and my skirt. I rested my head on his shoulder as I tried to calm down my breath.

Nick would KILL me if he found out I just had sex with his twin in public.

“Your hearts beating so fast Y/n holy shit calm down”

Matt joked his hand on my chest as I rolled my eyes.

“Fuck you”

“I already did sweetheart”

Matt replied chuckling a bit.

[homunculus-argument]

I wonder how much the "people who live alone die earlier" statistic is influenced by just having two people go "hold on, we can't both be unreasonable at the same time for no reason". If you're living with someone else and you're feeling irritable and deranged for no reason and hate everything, and someone else you're living with is also feeling irritable and deranged for no reason and hates everything, you might go "now hold on, are the gas pipes leaking?" and go check on shit like air filters and see if there's lead in your water or something, because two people being off the same way is a clear indicator of something.

While when you're living by yourself, there's nobody else around feeling any kind of way, so you're just sitting there seething, having come to the conclusion that this is simply how it feels like to be alive.

[bluesidez]

Can’t get Firefighter Miguel out of my head because of the Miggy discord.

content warning: nothing but fluff...for now 😗

word count: 1.3k, not proofread

Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Imagine you’re trying to get into baking or something and you’re not used to your oven AT ALL.

Cherry pies? Ruined.

Apple fritters? Apple crisps.

Chocolate chip cookies? Charcoal chip cookies.

Brownies? More like burnt brownie brittle.

Your process would be going so well until it was time to actually put your dessert in the oven and it was like your oven plotted against you.

You set the right temperatures. You pre-heated. You even placed things in the right part of the oven. How is it that everything goes wrong?

The only desserts that saw the light of day were the no-bake ones. You’re not sure how much more no-bake cheesecake you could take anymore.

The day that really sets it off is the day that you attempted to make a simple vanilla birthday cake. Your friend’s birthday was coming soon and you wanted to gift her one of those cute bento cakes.

Your icing is finished and delicious. You’ve been practicing the decorations all week and they were pretty cute! The cake just a few more minutes left to bake, then you could take it out to chill.

As you’re piping a bag of baby pink icing, you look up to see that the room is a little foggy. You turn in a panic and notice puffs creeping from the oven.

“No, no, no!!!” you cry as you turn to open it.

You can’t do anything but cough as a ton of smoke hits you in the face.

Your cake on fire. Orange and yellow light illuminating the oven.

You panic as the fire seems to grow brighter once it hits the air.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

Where was your fire extinguisher? You tried fanning at fire with a towel, but to no avail. You couldn’t even get to the knobs to switch the oven off.

You step back, terrified. You felt like sobbing watching the flames take over. Why aren’t the sprinklers on?

By the time you run out of your house, the fire alarm decides it can sing its tune. You call 911 with a shaky voice, hoping they can get here faster than your alarm decided to make itself known.

You stand outside peeking through your eyes as you could see the flames grow near your kitchen window.

Thankfully the firetruck makes it in time, the firefighters working quick to get inside.

One of them asks is anyone else inside and you shake your head no, thankful that it was just you.

It doesn’t take long for them to put it out and come back outside.

“Are you ok?,” one of them comes to ask you. You look up to this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s sweating a bit obviously from the summer heat and the fire as he takes his helmet off. His hair is curly and dripping. You ogle him a bit, watching his chest move up and down.

“Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! No! So sorry, I’m still a little…winded from everything,” you say, embarrassed.

“Ok, well as long as you’re fine. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” he asks.

You cast your eyes down. Here was such a fine man standing before you and you had on pajamas and a frilly maid apron with flour splattered on top.

“I was trying to make a birthday cake. As we can see, it completely failed,” you reply. “I don’t know what happened. I followed every instruction. The oven was set at 350 degrees.”

He tilted his head at you as you whined away.

“Is this the first time that something like this has happen?”

You shake your head no, “This is the 3rd burnt dessert in a week.”

“Hm. Well I’ll have the crew here check it out.”

An hour and some change later, one of the firefighters tells you and the tall glass of water, who learn is a captain named Miguel, that you have a damaged gas line.

“You’re really lucky that you were only getting blackened sugar. One more cake and that could have been the end,” Miguel says to you with hand on his hip and another on your shoulder. “And also, never open the oven if there’s a fire. If this happens again, turn the oven off and wait until it dies down.”

You felt your head nodding, heart beating at how awkward everything felt.

Miguel looked down at you again, “Do you have anywhere you can stay over night? Or until I can get someone up here to get this gas fixed?”

“My grandma lives a couple of streets down,” you say, cheeks heated at his intense eye contact.

“Tell you what, how about you settle there for the night and I’ll come back personally to help you grab your belongings tomorrow morning?”

“That would be amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry for all of this,” you gesture to your house.

“It happens. Nothing you did here was your fault. Besides, I’m the captain. Fighting fires is what I do. Now, how about a ride in the truck to your grandma’s?”

You feel giddy when he practically pulls you in the truck. No seats are left so you have to settle for sitting on Miguel’s lap, heartbeat racing.

The other firefighters try to hide their smirks and snickers watching their captain hold you so softly in his arms. One big bump in the road has you clinging to him to not fall off.

You straighten back up, embarrassed by the little slip. Miguel chuckles at your actions.

You pretend not to hear their wolf whistles as he guides you to your grandma’s front door.

Miguel knocks firmly, waiting with you until she opens it.

She’s about to fuss at you for not stopping by sooner until she looks up at Miguel.

“And who is this?” she says, a bit shocked.

“My name is Captain O’Hara. I just wanted to drop your grandbaby off. Had a little baking accident.”

Your grandma listens to Miguel as he explains the situation calmly and professionally. It doesn’t stop her from fussing over you, grabbing and turning you to check for any damage.

“I’m ok grandma. I just have to stay here while my gas gets fixed.”

She thanks Miguel profusely, “Son, what’s your favorite food? I’ll have it made and sent down there for you.”

Miguel laughs heartily. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that until he beats you to it.

“Whatever your specialty is, I’ll take it,” he says with a sweet smile on his face and holding your grandma’s hands.

“Cap! We gotta another fire at the college dorms. Someone burnt noodles in the microwave again,” a firefighter yells from truck.

“Well if you all can excuse me, duty calls!” he says and runs back to the truck.

“I can’t believe you burnt a cake! Haven’t I taught you better? And you know you’re making him that food, right?” your grandma says as you step inside.

“Grandma,” you say, affronted. “It was the oven, not me! And he might not want to even eat what I make after this.”

“Hmph,” she says, with a click of her tongue. “Well, you better get ready to use this kitchen here. You need that man as a husband.”

“Grandma.”

“I have some ham hocks in the freezer, some turnip and mustard greens. I think the church sent me some potatoes. We need to go to the store too. You gotta get him through his stomach.”

“Grandma!”

There was a silence as you and your grandma stared at each other.

“So are you thinking pork chops or catfish to go with the side dishes?” she said, grabbing a pencil and an empty envelope.

You just groaned and crumpled in your chair.

divider by: @benkeibear ❤️‍🔥

the grandma convo is heavily inspired by my own grandma lol. tagging @miguelhugger2099 @kit-and-wolfe @huniedeux @ugh-ok-fiyn because I want y’all to see this 😗

[shotmrmiller]

Toni... Blue collar worker simon....

i'm thinking of a plumber simon who doesn't (but can, obviously) fix toilets and whatnot. no, he usually installs plumbing systems in homes that are currently being built and he can do gas pipes too.

simon owning a van that has a bunch of long PVC pipes on top is making my head spin for no reason.

anyway, he gets up real early in the morning, depending on how far the job is he could be up as early as 4 am, packs his cooler for lunch which consists of sandwiches, a can or two of soda, two water bottles and a bag of spicy sunflower seeds. his lunch is shit because a lady tend to pass by in her food truck to sell the guys a proper lunch (they taste like simple home cooked meals) and its relatively cheap.

he buys lunch more often than not because of you, the lady's daughter and you're the prettiest little finch he's ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

you're a shy thing too, mumbling back a hello when he tosses you a greeting while waiting for his lunch to be warmed up. he likes when your eyebrow twitches every time he waits until the last possible second to ask for a drink to wash down his food.

a pest, truly.

(if only you'd give him a chance, you wouldn't have to be in that truck slaving away in the heat when he could keep you nice and comfortable at home with the ac as low as you like)

[chiscaralight]

Stealing Society

crack pipes, needles, PCP, and fast cars kinda mix really well, and a dead movie star!

includes: nsfw! illegal street racer!aventurine. use of the nickname ‘doll’ and ‘jewel’, car sex, fingering, public sex, slight exhibitionism, enjoy!

a/n: this was kinda inspired by Stealing Society by System of a down! i feel like the song fits the race theme somewhat. its one of my fav songs by them. i also just wanted to write abt fast cars and driving lololol.

street racer!aventurine is rich and young with alot of time on his hands. he's a thrill seeker, so what better way to while away his time than speeding down illegally blocked-off roads in the dead of the night with his competitors hot on his tail?

he's loved on the track! watchers chanting his name as he steps out of his sleek sports car to relish in his victory. they flock around him spewing words of praise and that's when he notices you. you're standing away but your eyes are locked on him all the same. the noises are loud, but the interest he's taken in you is louder. his steps are quick and calculated towards your frame. he's quick to introduce himself, but you already know who he is. so you tell him your name and he savors it on his tongue. the conversation is airy and fluid before he goes silent for a bit.

"how about we take a ride togther?"

the adrenaline pumping through your veins is unlike anything you've felt before. the wind nips at your face as he speeds down highways, weaving through tangles of cars and flying down lonely roads. he shifts one of his hands off the wheel to your thigh, squeezing the flesh as he lowly tells you to get ready. he's pushing down harder on the gas pedal. your laugh is like music to his ears as you reach speeds you know you never have. this is light work for him, but you're having the time of your life!

your entire body feels like jelly as he opens the car door for you. he takes your hand and walks you to the door of your house, how chivalrous. his lips lightly graze your knuckles, but not before telling you he'd be back for you tomorrow.

it goes on like this for weeks! picking you up at odd hours, sending expensive gifts to your doorstep. the nights he has raced, he's scanning the crowds for your face, sighing in relief as you wave wide. he flashes you a wink and settles into his seat. the win he's going to bring back tonight would be for you. just like he promised, he's ripping through the tape of the finish line with the nose of his car mere seconds before the first runner-up. you're already there as he steps out of the car, ready to receive the kiss he's planting on your lips.

it's daytime when he calls you. it's weird because you're used to spending the dark nights with him. his voice is warm as the two of you tease each other back and forth, but his next statement catches you off guard.

" i want you to ride with me during the race tonight."

your heart is pounding. youre in your rightful place in the passenger seat of the new car he bought just for the race. the engine is revving and you're both watching those lights that signify the start of the race. the red light flashes first, and he tells you to put on your seatbelt. you're buckling yourself in. the fact he's never asked you to do this before isn't helping your already strained nerves. amber. you notice his isn't on, so you ask why. his laugh is slightly encouraging, but the words that follow srent.

"i wont need it. but you will, doll."

you barely catch the green light as he's practically flying down the road. you feel like you're in a movie, music blaring through the car speakers as his knuckles grip the wheel tighter. you can't help the way you gasp his name because the pressure is sending you into the fabric of the seat. your eyes widen as you approach the turn but he shows no signs of slowing down. the jerk to the wheel is sharp and the drift is almost too perfect. the entire track is full of twists and turns but they pose no threat to the blonde man. you can hear the announcer call out his name once he pulls back into the hub. you can feel the blood pumping in your ears and almost miss when he asks if you're okay. the breath you finally let out is a relief, and he tells you it's time to exit the car. the sound of the screams of the crowd is much different down here from in the stands. It is overwhelming, but aventurines' loomin presence is quick to calm you down as he steps beside you.

the flag-girl comes over to hand him the trophy, but he just nods his head in your direction. she hands it to you and you raise it high in the air, jumping slightly as the crowd roars once again.

your fingers graze over the intricate carvings on the trophy. they definitely didn't cut corners with this, so you're covered in disbelief when he tells you that its yours.

"aven, i cant keep this.."

but he insists! he has dozens like that and he's sure that if you weren't here. you know he's bluffing. hed been winning big long before he met you, but you decided to let it go.

"i wouldn't mind a different type of prize, though."

thats why youre here, parked on some quiet road, mouth full with his cock. your front is pressed into the center console as you bob your head up and down his length. the drivers seat is slightly reclined as the driver himself throws his head back in a fit of pleasure. your lips are clamped around him perfectly, tongue flattening against the underside of his cock while he softly rolls his hips. his orgasm is crashing down, painting your throat with his release while his body relaxes into the seat once more.

aventurine’s feet are planted hard on the ground outside the car door. his knees are digging into the seat as he drills into you. anybody could drive by and catch the two of you in this position, but it only makes it more exciting. he's whispering sweet words to you as his tongue trails the shell of your ear. the way his name drips from your lips is so addicting, that he can listen to it all day. the way your nails dig into his upper arm signals your incoming orgasm, so he makes sure he can see your beautiful face. your eyes roll back into your skull as you cry out one final time. he's pressing his lips lightly against yours once more before sliding into the driver's seat to get you both back home.

you're out of the house the next time he texts.

some people from the track found a new road and want me to test it. wanna come with, doll?

of course, you don't say no, but you're slightly reconsidering coming along now. he has one hand on the wheel, with the other one rubbing slow, teasing circles against your clit. all your pleas for some kind of relief only fall on deaf ears. he hushes you, assuring you that he'll take such good care of you when you get back, but this is the third time he's looping the road! he keeps the same pace when he finally pushes a finger deep into you.

you're almost at your wits' end as he pulls into the hub area. he winds down his tinted window just a bit to converse with one of the officials there.

"-other than that it seems to be okay. well, my jewel here seems to be a bit under the weather, so we'll be going now."

and with that, he sped off towards his abode because he was almost sure that if he wasted any more time, you'd stop the car yourself to climb into the driver's seat and straddle him. not like he would complain anyway. but unlike the way he drives, he wants to take his sweet time with you, pulling you apart piece by piece before putting you back together again.

[celestialprincesse]

More Simon X Single mom!Reader💕🌙

Based on this drabble😚

wc: 1.1k

You're so, painfully reluctant to ask Simon for help. He offers, frequently, to help you get bedded in to your small flat, which only now, finally free from the clutches of your desperation, do you understand why it was so cheap. The first time he comes over for dinner he notes the way your kitchen faucet takes ages to put out hot water, and honestly, it took a fair bit of blindly tapping (smacking) random pipes to get any water at all. He seems to take issue with not only the lack of amenities that could help you get settled, but also the fact that the few basics that you do have access to don't work. You're a single mom, with a three year old daughter, and his sense of justice has always been at war with his longing search for peace and isolation.

Simon doesn't have much to do when he's not deployed, Price putting him on some kind of mandatory break after the last mission went south, as did his mental health. Because of said lack of hobbies, work and education, Simon finds himself doing literally whatever he can think of to occupy his mind, to forget about what happened in October - if that means helping you string a wreath on the front of your apartment door and lugging a christmas tree up the stairs for you, that's what he'll do. You'll be the first to admit that you're cash poor - buying this house ate up the majority of your savings, and the rest you're currently blowing through supporting your daughter whilst also trying to get a job, very contradictory to the fact that you're also trying to lay low.

The man that lives next door to you is no fool, not as blind and imperceptive as you wish he'd be. You see the way his eyes occaionally shoot to the fading tan line on your left ring finger and the small, raised scar on your bicep. Occasionally, he himself wishes that he wouldn't see the bags under your eyes or the way you clutch onto your daughter like she'll be ripped away from you - maybe then he wouldn't feel such a sense of duty to you. Maybe he wouldn't lie awake at night thinking of the fact that he's spent his life plagued by gunfire to protect innocent women and children, and now faced with the people he vowed to lay down his life for, all he can do is offer to fix your blocked hot water pipe.

So, when you stand on his doorstep, sniffling down fat tears threatening to spill, apologising profusley when you look up to see his confused expression, he can't help but to engulf you, and your wailing daughter at your hip, into what he can only hope is a comforting embrace. "Y' a'right? Whats goin' on?" He murmurs, a hint of panic in his voice. Simon knows the feeling of your past coming back to haunt you all too well.

"I'm sorry I just - the oven is broken, and I need to make her dinner and bath her and put her down to bed -" Is all you can manage before you're hiccuping into the hand not supporting your equally as distraught baby girl.

For a second he just stops, his brain short circuits as he struggles to comprehend the fact that you're coming to him for help. He can't understand the way you lay your soul bare before him, not when he's so distant, so intimidating, and you're oh so soft, lovely as a morning songbird and as warm as sun soaked sand.

"Would you mind looking at it?" Even you recognise how pathetic you sound, standing here practically grovelling at your neighbours door, but apparently it works when he's guiding you back to the front door you stupidly left open in your panic, pulling out a kitchen chair and easing you down as you sit between utter misery and the panic which filled your lungs like a puncture in a life raft when one little part of your routine you'd become so reliant on fell out of place.

"Gas's out." He tells you softly, like any more bad news might make you shatter completely, and the thought of delivering that blow makes him feel physically sick. "Right - Right, no gas." You murmur, brain whirring at a million miles a second in order to work out what to do next.

"You could use my oven? I'll call the gas company in the morning and have them install a new bottle."

His words make you stop, processing his offer, his generosity, the generosity of a man who's never once been cruel or rough or mean to you, and you give a little grateful nod, cooing to your daughter about how you're going on an adventure to Simon's place. The way he scoops her up so that you can stuff a bag with all of the things you need to make dinner, bouncing her on his hip to stop her wailing makes your insides warm in an unfamiliar way, one that you promptly shake off as you follow him across the threshold of his undecorated apartment, trying not to stare at your surroundings as you're guided to a kitchen that you're sure is far more functional than your own.

The way Simon doesn't have any cartoon channels on his TV, so he grabs his laptop instead, plopping your daughter down on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders and some kind of kids show playing on the screen makes you ache, and you can't imagine how a man with no kids of his own could be so good with yours. There's a softness to him despite his physical body being comprised of muscle and sinew and scars, his soul is gentle. He's gentle with you, and he's gentle with your daughter, and that's all that you can ask for.

You make enough dinner for the three of you, mostly to thank Simon for his hospitality, but also because you're starving and the meat needs eating. When you ask where the cutlery is, he gives a little chuckle, grabbing out two sets for you and him, as well as your daughter's little blue Peter Rabbit spoon and tray. He helps you dish up dinner, and when you go to sit at the table, he steers you into the lounge.

"You're not worried about food on the couch?" You squeak in utter confusion, to which he gives a laugh and plops down on one end, placing your daughters tray before her where she sits in the middle of the two of you, happily scarfing down her dinner and watching whatever Simon could find on such short notice.

When you inevitably fall asleep on his couch, your daughter doing the same, Simon sets a blanket over the two of you before going into the kitchen to call the gas company, putting down his card details to pay for the new bottle. He's happy to cough up fifty quid that he's sure you don't have if it means not seeing his girls cry again.

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Thanks for the ride (Long Drabble) Author's Notes: Personally this one is the worst one of the four. Also I didn't expect this to be this long. Warnings: MDNI, Angst

Did Soap enjoy being a little shit? Most of the time. But when it involved hurting you, even disguised as Price’s doing, he couldn’t find any joy in it. He may have successfully ruined Price in your eyes but at what cost?

He knew that you would only take so much of this. He wasn’t stupid. You will snap one day and all of their efforts to keep you will end up being futile. But some sick part of him hoped that you liked them enough to stay. That’ll you’ll hold out as much as they have so far.

And if you hold out long enough, maybe, just maybe, Soap can outlast the others. It’s only a matter of time before the others get over their little crush. Right?

But until then, he’ll be waiting. He’ll keep his distance but he’ll come as soon as you start calling.

Like now, as his phone lights up with your name. It’s Friday morning and he’s currently spotting Gaz on the bench press when his phone starts to ring. His heart jumps when he sees your name. He swipes his phone and answers it.

“Sergeant MacTavish,” he says. He cringes at his words.

“Sergeant,” you start. He could cry. He’s not just your sergeant, he’s Johnny, your Johnny-boy. “I am so sorry to bother you so early but I didn’t know who else to call.” He could tell from the tone of your voice that you were in trouble. He turns around to avoid Kyle from overhearing.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm okay, but... I... I'm on my way to base, but my car just broke down. I'd walk but I won't make it on time to today's meeting if I do. Is there anyway you can pick me up? I'll pay for gas and your time. Again, I am so sorry for bother--"

"It's not a bother. I'll be there in 10." He hangs up the phone before you can say anything else. Soap was truly God's favorite. Despite everything, you still called him. And like always, he'll answer.

"Everything good there, buddy?" pipes up Gaz.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. Uh... just one of the techs," Soap explains. He grabs his bag and tells Gaz he has to go... "bomb emergency." He leaves and rushes to his room. He zips through his room, trying to change into something less sweaty. He wasn't sure why, but his heart was racing.

Was he nervous?

Of course he was nervous.

This would be the first time in over a month that you called him for something that didn't involve a mission. There would be no Ghost, no Price, no Gaz to get in his way. He sprays some perfume that you had gotten him for his birthday, grabs his keys, and runs out of his room.

It's just a straight shot - straight down the hall and to the parking lot. Should be easy?

Wrong.

Waiting for him at the door was his fellow sergeant, Kyle Gaz Garrick.

"Where you going there, buddy? Isn't techs on the other side of the base?" He stands up straight, staring the Scotsman down.

Soap does the same. One way or another, he was going to give you that ride. "It is, but it'll be faster if I drive there. So if you can move, you'd make my day." He tries to side-step Gaz, but Gaz stay still. "Move!" Soap tries to push his teammate. Kyle pushes back, pinning him up against the wall, his arm over his neck.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Mate, your brightness and volume were all the way up ," he scoffs. "You really think I'm going to let you be the hero here."

"Get off!" Soap roars. He shoves Kyle back and punches him in the gut, forcing the sergeant to fall to his knees. However, it does nothing to stop him as Kyle lunges at the Scotsman, forcing him on the floor. They tussle for a bit before two pairs of arms pull the sergeants off from one another.

"What the hell is going on here?" commands Price. He has Soap in his grip while Ghost grabs Gaz.

"Soap here is trying to see them without us," Gaz spits out. Soap feels Price's hold on him tighten. Soap tries to explain himself. How you had called HIM for a ride and he was just trying to be a good teammate.

Price lets out an empty laugh. "Just like how I was trying to help with lunch." Fuck. Soap knew that was going to bite him in the ass, but he didn't think so soon. Ghost lets Gaz go. Gaz walks towards Soap and snatches the keys from his hands.

Soap tries to stop him, but it's no use, Price isn't budging.

And you of course don't know that all of this is going back on base. You're stuck in your car, waiting for Soap to come pick you up. You weren't happy that you called him, but you really had no choice. The bus had already passed, you didn't have enough time to walk, and it looked like it was going to rain. Besides, Soap said it wasn't a bother.

15 minutes have passed and you were starting to get antsy. The meeting was going to start soon and Soap still hadn't come by. You decide to text him... worst case, he's driving and can't answer.

You: Hey! Sorry to bother, but are you close? Again thank you so much for the ride

You put your phone down and look out the window.

Buzz, buzz.

Johnny-boy: Something came up. Sorry.

No fucking way. You could cry right now. And not even out of disappointment, but out of anger. You don't even bother to answer. You turn off your phone and jump out of your car. At this point, it didn't even matter. You were going to be late either way. What's the point of giving them a heads up?

And to your luck, it starts to rain... hard. Could your day get any worse? Fuck, your month, really? Whatever you did, there's no way it was that bad to deserve all of this.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't hear the racing car blasting rock music behind you.

Back on base, Soap is close to just dying in his seat. The 141 are all in the conference room, waiting for your arrival. Gaz and Price are in their seats while Ghost blocks the door. He can see his phone in his Lieutenant's pocket.

Soap begs him to let him go. It's pouring out there and knowing how stubborn you could be, you're probably walking in this weather.

Price shoots him a pointed look. "You really think I'd let them walk in this rain. I already sent some rookies to pick them up." And on cue, his phone rings. "Look, it's the rookies."

Price answers the phone. But instead, of keeping his neutral face, he just frowns. "What do you mean they're not there?" Soap's blood runs cold. Price argues with the rookies for a bit until he hangs up. The room tenses. Everyone looks at Price with baited breath. They all assume the worst. But before anyone can even suggest it, the door opens.

"141! My favorite team! How are... what's with the long faces?" The men all pause. They all had forgotten that Nikolai was going to help them on this next op.

"Nik, not the time," Price grumbles out. All of the men agree. Right now, you were missing and it was all their fault.

Nik gets serious and takes a seat. He assures them that things will work out. Once you finish changing, you can all brainstorm and find a solution.

Once you finish changing?

Soap makes the connection first. He asks Nik if you were on base.

"Da. Found them on my way here." Soap could just cry out of joy. You were okay. You were alive.

His joy is cut short when you come in. You don't say anything. You take your seat at the end of the table.

You look at all of them with indifference, with apathy. "Let's get started."

Soap calls your name. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. All he knew was that he needed to talk to you.

You glare at him. "Sergeant MacTavish, we've wasted enough time today. Let's just do our job," you spit out. You reel in your anger. You were done with Soap, with this team, with everyone.

Soap sinks in his seat. He didn't think you were capable of hatred.

Word Count: 1450

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[sunkendreams]

Ok hear me out bc this has been in my mind for a minute. Lester secretly toying and touching reader in the truck while someone is standing outside the truck, be it Bo, some potential victim I just feel like he is the type

heatstroke.

( lester sinclair x fem!reader. )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lester sinclair x fem!reader.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.3K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), public sex, risky location, vaginal fingering, fingering (f!feceiving), fingerfucking, spit as lube, dirty talk, praise, finger sucking, very mild coercion, lester is a bit of a pervert, bo sinclair cameo, obsessive/slightly creepy behavior from lester

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: listen ,,, you were onto something incredible when you requested this, this was so hot to write you don’t understand !!! lester is criminally underrated aaaaand this was so much hornier than I thought it’d be !! hope y’all enjoy! ❤️

TAGLIST: @freyjasfenrir ; @darklylucid ; @chaotichellscape ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth ; @nastymensimp

Summertime in Louisiana was akin to setting fire in a desert — humidity on top of an acrid, stifling heat. You didn’t have a clue as to why your friends dragged you all the way out here under the false pretense of a camping trip. In all actuality, they wanted to visit this town that wasn’t listed on any map — Ambrose.

The journey itself was treacherous, going through thick, endless woodlands, marshlands, and bogs before coming towards the town. It was just around the bend, a large chunk of the road missing, now consumed by swampwater, jagged rocks, and erosion. Your friend was confident that he could maneuver his truck through it — boy, was he wrong.

“It won’t make it,” Josie chimed, standing beside you as the both of you watched a pair of young men attempt to push the truck through the wash. The truck unceremoniously came to a grinding, screeching halt, tires partially buried within the mud. “Idiots.”

You kept quiet, idly smoothing your palms across the little, floral sundress you wore. You certainly weren’t dressed for camping — you had no interest. Going to Ambrose was supposed to be a ‘day out on the town’, with your desire being to look at small shops and simply enjoy the atmosphere.

“Maybe we should call somebody,” You piped up, nervously wringing your hands together. “There has to be a tow truck around, you think?” Anxiousness blossomed within the pit of your stomach, giving you a feeling of uncertainty. You wished that they would’ve just listened and tried to drive around it.

“Cut the shit, we don’t need a tow truck.” Josie’s boyfriend, Tate, growled in protest. Admittedly, you had no idea why you were out here in the staggering heat with these three. Tate and Josie had been your friends since high school, but Cody, the third boy, was simply here out of devotion to Josie. You were confident that there was something else going on.

Josie shot you an apologetic glance, but you had enough of watching them push at a truck that wasn’t moving anywhere whatsoever. With a begrudging sigh, you started down the dirt path in the direction of Ambrose, carefully stepping across rocks to avoid caking your boots in a layer of viscous mud.

“Where are you going?” Josie called out, and you simply waved your hand at her, dismissive of her concerns. You were sick and tired of being around the trio, anyway. A walk and a bit of fresh air would do you a world of good.

“Going to town to find somebody.” You replied, and continued walking, crossbody purse slung over your frame as you made the short trek into town. It seemed exceptionally lively — plenty of stores, the chattering ambiance of a quaint neighborhood, and vintage, neon signs that pointed you toward your destination.

You were delighted to discover the gas station and mechanic shop, which already seemed to be inhabited by someone. An old, beat-up pickup truck sat by the gas pumps, back of the bed shoddily cleaned-out, save for a few remnants of roadkill and animal bones. There was an ‘L. S.’ carved into the worn metal above the back wheel, which you curiously traced your fingers over.

The hot sun blistered down upon you, making it stifling due to the now-faded asphalt you stood upon. You quickly ducked underneath the shaded cover of the gas station, almost colliding into someone when you rounded the front of the truck.

“Oh!” You gasped, chest tight with a momentary lapse of fear. “I’m so sorry!” The energy you carried was akin to that of a nervous nelly, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. You felt horrible for running into some innocent bystander — the owner of the truck, you figured.

You were met with the skeptical, hazel-eyed gaze of a man who reminded you of a possum. Rugged, scraggly, and clearly meant for the woodlands. He straightened his hat out, head cocking to one side when he peered down at you — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sugar! Guess I wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’, neither.”

His voice bore that native Southern dialect, but he didn’t sound hostile whatsoever. When you finally got a good look at him, he seemed scrappy — maybe he lived in Ambrose. A large buck knife was holstered to his hip, neck adorned in a series of chokers and necklaces, decorated in some sort of animal bone.

“Say, what’cha doin’ ‘round here, anyway?” He inquired, leaning against the door of his truck. “Y’look a little lost.” His tone remained friendly, high-spirited, even. He was somewhat grimy, covered in a layer of dewy perspiration, wiping his hands off on a damp cloth.

“My friends and I were coming up here to visit the town, but our truck got stuck in that patch of marsh just around the bend,” You sighed, somewhat agitated with the whole scenario. If they would’ve listened to you, the truck would be just fine and not tire-deep in the mud. “I was just looking for some help.”

There was a sparkling in his eyes, a peculiar glittering that intrigued you to no end. A chuckle escaped him, finding humor in the situation. “They should’a jus’ drove ‘round.” He mused, and you had to laugh, even if it was a bitter sound. You kept your hands tucked together, idly fiddling with the strap of your purse.

Your expression was somewhat amused, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. “That’s what I said,” You sighed, happy to be away from the oppressive glare of the midday sun. “Either way, we’re stuck. Do you know if there’s a tow truck around here, or someone who could help?” You asked.

He grinned — a toothy, wolfish grin. Lester wasn’t blessed with Bo’s natural handsomeness, but he certainly had the personality to offset it all. He liked that you smiled and laughed along with him, didn’t treat him like backwoods trash, either. “M’brother’s got a tow truck! Bet he’d help ya out! Why don’t I give ‘im a call?”

Finally — your savior.

Relief rippled through you as you nodded several times over, rifling through your purse to unveil a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Here,” You insisted. “For the call and for your help. I can’t thank you enough.” You nodded, but the man simply pushed your hand away.

Being around you was a reward in itself — and once his brothers took care of your friends, you would be his prize in all of this. He couldn’t have been any happier with how all of this was progressing. Lester opened up the driver’s side door, grabbing a rather shoddy-looking flip-phone. He was still trying to figure these things out.

One call to Bo later, and his older brother was coming out with the tow-truck and all of that oozing charm, like a shepherd leading the flock to the slaughter. Lester insisted that he keep you out of it — you were sweet, he could tell.

He liked that.

“He’s on his way,” Lester chimed, swiveling around to face you again. He stuck out his hand in greeting. “M’Lester, by th’way! It’s real nice to meet you, sugar. Say, if you’re bakin’ in the sun, could sit in m’truck with me while the rest do the heavy liftin’.” The offer was absolutely tempting to you.

You reached out, introducing yourself with a charming grin and another burst of bubbly laughter. “It’s nice to meet you, Lester. Thank you so much for all of your help, again. You’re an angel.” He was very kind and upbeat — Jesus, you even found him to be cute. “Are you sure? I really don’t want to be a bother.”

Lester grinned again, completely and utterly enamored with you as he waved a hand towards the truck. “I’m real sure, promise! Don’t want that pretty little face of yours t’melt right off. You can sit with me while Bo works his magic.” He insisted, opening up the door as a sign of invitation.

A pleasant wave of heat flooded throughout your body — and while you thought it was from the weather, it was from Lester’s subtle flirtation. You couldn’t help but giggle, nose wrinkling in amusement as you climbed up into his truck. Lester stood behind you, shamelessly admiring the way your dress fit you, from lovely curves to the faintest glimpse of your thighs.

As you crawled into the cabin, you noticed the morbid array of bone and rope dangling from the top mirror. The inside smelled of stale blood, damp dirt, and the faint scent of cigarettes. You folded one leg over the other, swiping away a thin layer of sweat that built up along the back of your neck.

A tow truck came soaring down the road, rickety and beat-up. The driver wore a mechanic’s uniform and a ball cap — you assumed it was Bo, the man Lester was referring to. “M’gonna drive us back down to the bend. No reason for you t’walk.” He mused, hopping in beside you as he started the engine.

The truck roared to life, and Lester maneuvered the vehicle out of the gas station, whipping it back around to approach the swampy wash where your caravan had gotten stuck at.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” You asked, head canting to one side. You leaned up against the door, palm tucked underneath your chin. Whenever you weren’t looking, you were completely oblivious to Lester’s constant ogling of your body.

He kept one hand perched atop the patchwork, leather-covered steering wheel, the other resting along the edge of the window. “Mostly,” Lester piped up, letting out a low whistle. “Ambrose ain’t on the map. Hard for anybody to come out this way without lookin’ real close.” He replied, truck slugging along at a crawl.

“It’s pretty out here,” You hummed, tracing a finger along the dashboard, collecting a layer of dust in the process. “I wouldn’t want to leave. You’ve got everything you need here in town. It’s peaceful.” When you adjusted your position, your dress hitched just a little higher.

“Yer welcome t’stay, if y’like it so much.” Lester mused, which got you to laugh. As tempting as it sounded, nestled away within the Louisiana wilderness, you knew that your friends would go against it. “They even got a beauty pageant, Miss Ambrose.”

Intrigued, you cocked your head to one side, letting out another giggle as you peered outside towards the forests. “A beauty pageant? I’ve never done one of those before. I’m sure I’d have plenty of competition.” You sighed, idly fiddling with the hem of your sundress. The jean jacket you were wearing over it only made you nearly collapse from heatstroke.

Lester grinned, a playful chuckle escaping him. “Naw, I think you’d win th’whole thing.” He was really laying on the compliments and old-fashioned charm, driving the truck down the path and around the bend. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen ‘round here!” Singing your praises was one way to get you flustered.

This was the last thing you ever expected, being hit on by a rugged stranger you’d just met. Nevertheless, the attention you were receiving was amazing, something you weren’t used to. “You’re really sweet.” You accepted the compliment without retort, idly preening your fingers over the top of your head.

By the time you’d gotten back to the wash, Lester’s brother was sitting in the cab of the tow-truck, attempting to haul the other vehicle out of the mud. You waved at your friend from the window as he put it into park, letting it idle. Josie and Tate happened to use it as something to lean on, but Lester didn’t say anything to protest.

“Ain’t you jus’ gorgeous?” Lester crooned, pinching the hem of your dress between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin felt abnormally hot, like a fever as you shifted in your seat, visibly sheepish to the man’s seemingly harmless flirting. “Real nice dress, too.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled, ducking your head as his knuckles innocently brushed over the top of your thigh. Goosebumps erupted in his wake, causing you to shiver as you averted your gaze. “Maybe I should get out and see if everything’s okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Lester cocked his head to one side, eyes glittering with something indiscernible. The rough, calloused pads of his fingertips traced over your thigh. “Y’sure, sugar? I was thinkin’ you could stay here with me,” He mused, lips spitting into a toothy smirk. “Could make it worth yer while.” His voice was sickly-sweet, like honey.

Something hung heavy in the air — suffocating heat coupled with the flurry of tension crackling within the cab of Lester’s truck. Admittedly, you were more aroused than you should’ve been, given how forward and crass this was, but there was certainly a thrill in it.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, stealing another glance outside the window. Your friends were just outside of the truck — if you made too much noise or squirmed, they would notice. “What if somebody sees?” You whimpered, feeling a rush of oozing warmth coalesce between your thighs.

“Looks you’ll have t’be real quiet,” Lester hummed, hand prodding at your dress again. “Why don’t you go on an’ lift that up for me, gorgeous?” You shouldn’t have been this riled up and turned on for a complete stranger, but he was tempting — maybe it was his kind demeanor coupled with lust. You weren’t sure.

A fluttering sensation erupted throughout the pit of your stomach, prompting you to shift your thighs together as you began to shyly tug your dress up. Lester had subtly shifted closer, shorter than an arm’s length distance as you let some of the fabric pool around your hips.

There was some sick thrill you got with this, buried deep down — in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been entertaining this, but Lester seemed more than willing. You glanced toward the window, breath hitching when Josie glanced back at you with a puzzled expression.

To quell her concern, you swiftly gave her a thumbs-up, perspiration creeping along your spine as you subtly shifted a little closer to your new friend. His soft snickering filled the cab, calloused palm gingerly kneading into your thigh.

“Nice n’soft,” Lester mumbled, Southern drawl dropping to a hushed octave. “Y’feel like velvet.” His compliment made you shiver with anticipation, legs parting as you shyly began to ruck the skirt of your dress up. He leaned in, giving your hair a sniff — you smelled sweet, like a fresh bouquet of honeyed flowers.

You swallowed the lump within your throat, angling yourself a little more in his direction, enough to remain inconspicuous. Lester traced his hand along your thigh, drinking in the feeling of your velveteen complexion underneath his fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you sluggishly placed your hand atop his, guiding it toward the heat coalescing between your legs. Lester appeared surprised, cracking another bemused grin as you let his fingers settle along the waistband of your panties. You were desperate, wriggling atop the sticky leather beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the seat, chest tight with a familiar fluttering once his fingers finally crossed the threshold, slipping beneath the thin, cotton material. He nudged your legs further apart, deliberately stroking at your cunt, toying with you just a little bit. “D’aw,” He crooned. “That all fer me?”

Part of you wanted to simply melt into a pile of nothingness, lips parted as a sweet moan escaped you. His touches were tantalizing, feather-light and leaving you aching for more. “Y—Yeah,” You sighed, keeping your voice low as Lester pushed past your folds, two digits beginning to glide against your cunt. “Keep going.” You mewled.

Lester rarely, if ever, did anything like this.

Admittedly, once he saw you, that beautiful beam of sunshine, he had to have you — he wanted to keep you for himself, too. Your willingness to let him touch you made you all the more tempting, something to be coveted, worshiped. Lester would do it all for you if you’d let him.

Quietly, he obeyed your breathy command, ministrations becoming more vigorous. His fingers were erratic and choppy, sloppily sliding across your cunt with a fervor. You didn’t care, lulled into submission by the myriad of sensations, pleasure rippling throughout your stomach.

Your gaze occasionally flickered toward the outside of the truck, but your worry of getting caught was steadily subsiding. Lester’s calloused digits glided along your slit, moving up until they found that clutch of sensitive nerves buried between your thighs. His thumb sluggishly circled your clit, causing your hips to jolt forward.

“S’at feel nice?” His drawl had dropped into a husked purr, voice wrought with desperation. Lester liked having this level of control over you, but he enjoyed seeing your reactions even more. Embarrassment washed through you, knowing how insane this scenario seemed.

A sweet whimper tore past your lips, and you nodded your head, attempting to keep the gesture subtle. You wanted more, shifting your thighs together to relieve some tension until Lester prodded you with his knee. He began to rub at your clit, prompting you to press the back of your hand over your mouth.

Lester snickered, swatting your hand away. “Don’t keep those sounds from me, sugar. You’re jus’ so pretty like this.” He murmured, causing you to bite at your lower lip. Your thighs shook, cunt throbbing and oozing with liquid heat as he continued to touch you.

There was a thump against the front of the truck, nearly making you leap out of your own flesh, hastily covering your lap with your jean jacket. It was just Cody, huffing and puffing as Lester’s brother continued to try and pull the truck out of the mud.

“W—We should probably stop,” You whimpered, voice low and hushed, attempting to grab at his wrist, but Lester stopped you. “Lester, please.” The terror of being caught outweighed pleasure, but he shushed you, tugging you just a little closer, until you were nearly leg-to-leg in the cab.

“Jus’ keep quiet, sweetheart. They ain’t gonna catch us, swear.” He reassured you, coercing you into a more docile state — admittedly, he really wanted to make you cum on his fingers. Lester was hellbent to receive that from you, whether you protested or not.

As much as your mind screamed at you to stop, you wanted to keep going. You nodded, still keeping the jacket tucked within your lap, but Lester nudged it aside, wanting to watch everything. Your dress was all disheveled and ruffled around your hips, panties halfway down your thighs.

You began to squirm, hips jolting and spasming into the sensation of his hand, nails digging into the old, cracked leather of the truck’s frayed cushions. Your mind stopped worrying so much, submitting to basic desire and instinct, letting pleasure hold the reins as he flicked his thumb around your clit.

Honey-sweet arousal pooled between your legs, coating Lester’s digits in a fine sheen. You almost pleaded for him to come back when he withdrew his hand, watching with complete and utter shock as he licked his fingers, saturated in saliva. The noises he made were crass and somewhat lewd. “Taste jus’as good as y’look.” He murmured.

A molten wave of heat dropped right into the pit of your stomach, prompting you to whimper as his fingers hotly returned to your core. He was vigorous this time, using those spittle-slathered digits to invade your cunt, pushing two fingers inside of you as he began to piston them in and out. His rhythm was intense, and you nearly clamped your thighs together.

Your limbs felt heavy, weighed-down by the waves of ecstasy that consume you, as if dragging you down to the bottom of an ocean. You can barely distinguish what’s happening outside of the truck — you don’t care anymore, either.

This stranger fingerfucking you in his cab is all you can concentrate on.

Another soft, throaty moan escaped you, tearing past your parted lips as you rolled your hips sporadically, in-tandem with the motion of his fingers. They pushed inward, nearly knuckle-deep inside of your cunt before dragging out halfway, only to ram right back in. You sighed, pleasure scrawled all over your face.

Lester kept a watchful eye out, knowing that Bo would take his sweet time, damage your friend’s truck in the process. He was happy to have snatched you up when he did, gaze flickering toward you. Your body was contorted with delight, a glistening sheen of perspiration shimmering along your collarbone.

Tension crackled through the air, and you were none the wiser to Lester’s little plot to keep you. His thumb toyed and circled your clit, pouring fuel on the fire as your hips bucked forward again. “M’close,” You whimpered through the dizzying carnality, knuckles tense and tight as you clawed at the seat. “Oh, Lester! S—Shit, please don’t stop!” You squeaked.

He was enthralled, as if trained to obey your every wish. He didn’t slow down, keeping the same pace, fingers scissoring in and out of your weeping cunt. The thick scent of arousal hung heavy in the cab, intermingled with that of fresh earth and a coppery twang from the blood of roadkill, baking away in the back of the truck.

The thin straps of your pretty dress began to sag upon your shoulders, giving way to the faintest glimpse of your breast. If it weren’t for the oblivious audience outside of the truck, Lester would’ve been sucking on your chest. Instead, he settled for a brief peek of your heaving tits, and nothing more.

When the truck rattled, you barely paid it any mind — just your friends sagging against it. Lester snickered, opting to add a third finger, if it were a possibility. “Can y’handle another, sugar? Yer almost there.” He whispered, and when your friend began to step back towards the passenger door for shade, your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Again, Lester silenced your worry with the softest coos and gentle shushes, thumb working away at your clit as he attempted to wriggle a third digit inside of you. You were all wound up, chasing after your orgasm as you turned your face away, skin feverishly hot, as if you’d been scorched by the Louisiana sunshine.

As soon as Lester’s fingers rocked into your cunt for the umpteenth time, curling just slightly, you were gone — wasting away in a white-hot explosion. The tension within your stomach unfurled as you coated his digits in your slick nectar, huffing and puffing as you attempted to compose yourself.

“Lester, Lester,” The breathy, hushed way in which you whimpered his name made him want to devour you. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his fingers as he withdrew them, watching the tension unfurl from your body. You looked embarrassed and downright flustered, having made a mess of his seat. “M’sorry.”

“Sorry?” Lester cajoled, grinning a toothy, bemused smile as he began to lick his fingers clean. “Don’t gotta apologize none for that. Jus’ do it again sometime.” He teased, watching as you hastily covered your lap with your jean jacket when your friend thumped a hand against the window.

“Hey, we’re going up to this guy’s house. He said he has a tire that we can borrow, one on the truck is flat. Are you coming?” Josie asked, ogling Lester with skepticism and a high degree of disgust, too.

You gasped, heart pounding erratically in your chest. As you opened your mouth to answer, Lester interjected on your behalf.

“Yer friend here is goin’ through a bad wave of heatstroke. I’m gonna drive ‘er back t’my place an’ get her some water. It’s a cabin ‘long the path, you can’t miss it.” Lester confirmed, but Josie looked at you for an answer instead.

You nodded several times over, mustering up a smile after having experienced one of the best highs of your life. Pretending that you hadn’t let him touch you just moments ago made you feel strange. “I’ll be alright, Josie. You guys can meet me at his place once the truck is all fixed up.”

Josie nodded and reluctantly moved away from the window, joining Tate and Cody as the three of them followed Bo towards the tow truck. You were impervious and oblivious to the fact that this would be the last time you would ever see your friends alive.

Fortunately for Lester, he had other intentions.

He started the truck again, peering toward you with a twinkle in his eye — it wasn’t the same high-spirited, innocuous man you’d encountered at the gas station. This gleam was different — obsessive, possessive, and absolutely enamored with you.

“Why don’t we see what we can do about this heatstroke of yours, sugar?”

[pretzel-box]

Hello!! I dont know if your requests are still open but if they are can you do one where sebastian realizes his feelings for reader? If your requests are close you can ignore this i love your writing

Mesmerised

words: 1k

tags: love at first sight, sebastian crushes on you

authors note: I kinda made it into a first meeting scenario, where Sebastian falls in love with reader without knowing them

if you want a friends to lovers type of thing just send another ask❤️

One thing that Sebastian had quickly figured out in the Hadal Blackside was that resources were rare and had immense value. The best source for them? His own customers—unfortunate souls who met their end at the hands of nearly every danger the abyss had to offer.

He didn't need to worry about Pandemonium or Wall Dwellers; most visitors sent by Urbanshade died to mundane things like a brightly burning door or a gas leak in a pipe. To Sebastian, they were nothing more than loot bags, ripe for the picking. He never even had to stress about them getting their hands on the silly crystal. At this rate, they’d all be dead long before they got close.

Tonight, he was out on a routine scavenging run, roaming the dark hallways after spotting an angler rush by. His eyes, perfectly attuned to the darkness, quickly picked out a lifeless corpse lying on the wet ground. Poor guy, Sebastian mused with a smirk, must be embarrassing to die to something so simple. 

He didn’t waste time, immediately crouching down to collect the scattered belongings. Among the items, he found a blacklight in good condition. That would fetch a decent price. He was so absorbed in his task, so confident and sly about securing new items for his store, that he failed to notice a pair of curious eyes watching him from the shadows.

“It’s not healthy to look at things in a dark light,” a voice said, startling him. You turned on your flashlight, aiming it just low enough so as not to blind anyone. You'd learned that lesson the hard way with your now-deceased teammate.

Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat as you stepped into the dim glow, unbothered by his monstrous appearance. You were a striking contrast to the grim surroundings—calm, almost serene, as if this hellish place had nothing left that could surprise you. You offered him the flashlight, your expression unreadable.

“No need,” Sebastian muttered in his usual grumpy tone, not expecting to be caught in the act, especially not by someone like you. He raised one of his three arms, switching on his anglerfish lure to get a better look at you.

The soft, eerie glow illuminated your face, and for the first time in a long while, Sebastian felt something strange stir in his chest. You didn’t flinch, didn’t recoil in disgust or fear as most others did. Instead, you met his gaze with steady, almost curious eyes.

In that brief moment, Sebastian found himself captivated. There was something about the way you stood there, unfazed by the corpse, by him, by everything that should have sent you running. Your calm demeanor, your willingness to hand over your flashlight without a second thought, it all left him feeling... something. Was this what they called love at first sight?

He’d always thought it was nonsense, a ridiculous human sentiment that had no place in a world as brutal as this. But now, with you standing there, looking at him with an unreadable expression, he wasn’t so sure.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the unfamiliar feeling. “You’re awfully brave, aren’t you?” he said, his voice gruff but lacking the usual edge. “Walking around here alone. Don’t you know this place is dangerous?”

You shrugged, your gaze never wavering from his. “Dangerous, sure, but I’ve seen worse. Besides, I’m not alone, am I?”

That simple statement caught him off guard. Not alone. Did you really mean him? The idea of someone seeing him as anything other than a monster, let alone company, was new. Unsettling, even. But it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Sebastian straightened up, awkwardly holding onto the blacklight he’d just looted. “Well, you should still be careful,” he grumbled, trying to mask his flustered state. “Not everyone’s as... understanding as me.”

A small, almost playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Noted. But I think I can manage.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but admire your confidence. There was something magnetic about it, something that drew him in despite himself. He found himself wanting to know more about you, to understand what made you so different from the others who came through his shop.

“So, what brings you out here?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going, though his usual gruffness couldn’t completely mask the curiosity in his voice. “You don’t exactly look like the looting type.”

You glanced down at the corpse, then back at Sebastian. “Just exploring for something. This place has a lot of... mysteries. Thought I might find something interesting.”

“Mysteries, huh?” He couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “You’ve definitely found something. Not sure if I’d call it interesting, though.”

Your smile widened just a fraction, and Sebastian felt his heart skip again. Damn it, what was wrong with him? He was a shopkeeper, a scavenger, not some lovesick fool. But there was no denying it—he was drawn to you, and he had no idea what to do about it.

“Maybe I’ll find something even more interesting next time,” you said, your tone light, almost teasing. “Who knows?”

Sebastian found himself nodding before he could think better of it. “Yeah... maybe.”

As you turned to leave, he couldn’t stop himself from calling out, “Be careful out there. And if you ever need... supplies or anything, my shop’s just down the hall.”

You paused, glancing back at him with that same unreadable expression. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, your voice soft but clear.

And with that, you disappeared into the darkness, leaving Sebastian standing there, holding a looted blacklight and wondering what the hell had just happened. 

“I should have asked for the name…”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Sebastian felt a strange flutter of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was something worth more than all the loot in the Hadal Blackside. And with such a cute prisoner in the hallways, he might feel generous enough to leave you the one or other discount. 

[dirtyvulture]

Something’s in the Air - Part 1

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha returns from a mission after being exposed to a chemical that makes her extremely, extraordinarily feral for you. 

Word count: 2362

AN: Here is the opening act of the long-awaited collaboration with @jedi-luca! Enjoy, sinners!

Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Natasha races down the empty hallway, trying to ignore the blaring alarms and flashing lights overhead. She can’t read any of the symbols marking the doors, and all she knows is that she’s looking for one with a triangle in the center of three overlapping circles, like a variation on the classic biohazard sign.

“You find him yet, Nat?” Clint buzzes in her earpiece.

“Not yet,” she responds. 

“Well, you’ve only got about another minute before HYDRA agents flood the building–”

“I know!” she snaps, her eyes finally settling on a triangle surrounded by three circles. “I found it!”

“Get him and let’s go!”

Natasha doesn’t need to be told twice, and she inputs the ten-digit code into the keypad on the door. It lights green to grant her access and she steps into a tiny, square room, no bigger than a broom closet, the heavy steel door automatically closing behind her. 

“Uh oh,” she says when she hears the door click shut. 

Suddenly, a white smoke starts to fill the tiny room, jetting out from the piping running along the walls and ceiling. Natasha covers her mouth with her arm, fumbling on her belt for a proper mask. The smoke stings her eyes and burns her throat, but the initial shock of pain is quickly overtaken by a warm, fuzzy feeling. Natasha staggers back into the wall, not even feeling the impact of the solid concrete as her stomach clenches in a way that’s familiar and foreign at the same time. 

But just as quickly as it had started, the pipes stop pumping out the gas and it clears away through the vents. She wipes at her watering eyes and sees a door in front of her with no lock. More cautiously this time, she opens it and finds herself staring down a young boy behind a glass wall.

“Clint, I found him.”

***********************************************************************

Natasha safely extracts the boy, wrapping him up in a ragged blanket she found on his bed, and carries him out in a bundle. She meets Clint just in time before the HYDRA agents realize their base has been compromised. They leave the boy in the custody of a SHIELD van and six agents. Natasha gives him a chocolate before they part ways. Her and Clint escape on the Quinjet, only breathing a sigh of relief once they are safely hidden amongst the clouds.

“When I was trying to get him, I got sprayed with something,” she tells him in a low voice.

“With what?” Clint doesn’t take his eyes off the dashboard.

“I don’t know.” 

“You seem fine.”

As if on cue, the same sharp pain that she experienced upon first inhaling the smoke punches her stomach again and she doubles over. 

“Shit,” she curses, trying to massage out the ache and feeling her cheeks flame in embarrassment when she finally realizes what the pain reminds her of. Although she wouldn’t describe it as a pain, but that feeling of being so aroused she wants to burst. 

“Nat?”

“Uh, never mind,” she says, not wanting to get into details with him.

“I’ll call ahead and have Dr. Cho ready to see you in the medical bay,” he says.

“I–Wait, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Natasha says, but Clint won’t listen to her, he’s already typing out a message to send to the doctor.

Natasha grumbles wordlessly and takes the seat next to Clint, glancing back to make sure the boy is okay. She isn’t sure about why HYDRA had him or why SHIELD made such a point to send in some of their best Avengers to free him. But sometimes, the less details they knew the better, and now she had to worry about what exactly had been in that smoke. 

She takes her phone out from the backpack under the chair and sends you a text. But it’s almost three in the morning, so her text goes unanswered. With another 30 minutes until they’re home, Natasha boredly scrolls back up in the conversation, her attention caught by some of the old pictures you’ve sent her.

The first one she looks at is probably the most innocent of the bunch, a slightly blurred snapshot of you post-workout, your skin gleaming with sweat and your muscles pumped. Natasha bites her lip as her eyes trace down the veins on your stomach, following their path to the waistband of your shorts, which is not quite low enough to reveal perhaps her favorite body part of yours. 

She quickly skips to the next picture, which is much more scandalous and should not be viewed in a public setting, but luckily Clint is sitting in front of her. You’re lying down, the camera positioned down towards your muscular legs, but Natasha’s attention is drawn to the thick cock you have your hand wrapped around. Her center clenches around nothing; Natasha wishes she had your length inside of her, ramming into her hard and fast, until you came undone and pumped your seed deep into her womb.  

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself, crossing one leg over the other, trying to alleviate the pulsing at her core and failing. There was still so much time left until they landed, she didn’t know how she was going to survive. Out of pure desperation, she considers touching herself (still in the vicinity of where Clint can hear her, but he can turn his hearing aid down, can’t he?) right there in the Quinjet, and it takes all of her mental strength to keep her hands on her knees. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her, why she’s so horny all of a sudden. 

All she knows is if she doesn’t have you inside her in the next hour, she may actually die.

Using her advanced Red Room torture resistance techniques, Natasha barely clings to her sanity for the next 30 minutes. She grinds herself subtly on her seat, although it does next to nothing to ease the ache in her stomach. 

“Can’t you fly faster?” she asks Clint eventually through gritted teeth. “It’s not like there’s any traffic in the sky.”

“I’m doing my best,” Cint responds. 

“Well, going a little faster would be nice.”

Clint doesn’t bite back at her even though he wants to. Overall, Natasha seems okay even after her exposure to the unknown gas, but Clint knows his best friend better than herself. Something is bothering her–badly–and she doesn’t want to talk about it, which means it can only be one thing. 

Natasha wants to cry in relief when the iconic “A” of the Avengers Tower comes into view. She practically hijacks the controls from Clint trying to land the plane faster, but just before she can sprint out of the Quinjet, Clint grabs onto her.

“You have to see Dr. Cho first,” Clint says sternly, holding onto her arms in a vice grip. 

“I don’t want to see the doctor. I want Y/N,” Natasha says, almost in tears. Her core is practically on fire at this point and she wouldn’t be surprised if her panties are ruined. 

“Y/N will be there,” Clint assures her, dragging her to the elevator and going one floor down. Despite the early hour, Dr. Cho waits sleepily to greet them at the entrance of the medical bay. Natasha practically throws a fit as Dr. Cho escorts her to a private room, while Clint disappears without an explanation.

“I’m fine, Doctor,” Natasha insists as Dr. Cho has her sit down on the edge of the plastic bed. 

“Agent Barton said you may have been exposed to some unknown chemical,” Dr. Cho says, shining a bright penlight into her eyes and opening her mouth to examine her tongue and tonsils. 

“I’m fine,” Natasha repeats, shifting agitatedly and crinkling the white paper covering the bed. 

Dr. Cho squints at her. “I’ll be back to run some more tests,” she says, disappearing with a flip of her white lab coat. 

Natasha groans and falls back on the bed, unzipping the collar of her uniform down to her chest, flapping her hands to cool her face. She thinks back to the pictures of you she looked at on her phone and before she can even stop herself, sticks her hands down her pants, ignoring how unusually wet she is, her fingers gliding through her soaked folds to press into herself.

“Fuck,” she mutters, kicking her legs wider to find a more comfortable position. Natasha can easily fit three fingers into herself already, a feat that normally takes some working up to, although it pales in comparison to the size of your cock. She pants at the thought of you on top of her, your body hot and heavy against hers, the feeling of your muscles flexing as you devote your strength to pleasuring her. She clenches hard around her fingers, trying to imagine them as your cock instead, hard and throbbing, stretching her apart in the best of ways and filling her better than any toy or substitute can. 

Suddenly, there is a knock on her door and Natasha pauses mid-thrust.

“Nat? Babe, it’s me,” your croaky voice says on the other side.

“Come in!” she responds.

You open the door, still in your pajamas. Clint had called you until you woke up, telling you that while the mission had been a success, Natasha had come down with something and you needed to see her immediately. Without properly dressing, you staggered down to the medical bay, worried about your girlfriend despite your own exhaustion and delirium from being woken up at three in the morning. 

And now you stare at her, jaw dropped, as Natasha is lying on the hospital bed, her hand disappearing down her shorts, her forehead covered in a light layer of sweat. 

“Are you–” you start.

“I need you,” she begs, removing her hand and your heart thumps when you see that it is completely soaked in her slick. “Y/N, please, I need you.”

“What happened?” you ask, as your legs seem to have a mind of their own and gravitate to her side. Natasha reaches out for you, her hand twisting in the front of your shirt to draw you closer. She tugs it up, trying to shove her hand into the waistband of your shorts next and you stop her gently. “Nat.”

“I got sprayed with something while I was trying to free the subject,” she says, clawing at your abs. “At first it didn’t seem to affect me, but when we were on the way back, I just felt this overwhelming need…for you.”

“For me?” 

She nods, biting her lip and looking at you with her bedroom eyes. Suddenly, your whole body lights awake, and you strip out of your shirts and shorts, climbing on the bed with Natasha and the structure squeaks under your added weight. Natasha pulls you on top of her, frantically wiggling out of her suit so she can feel you skin-to-skin. She kisses you ferociously, bruising your lips and clacking her teeth against yours, but you respond with equal enthusiasm, not really sure why she’s so desperate for you all of a sudden but not going to complain either. 

You roll your hips in a gyrating motion, dragging your hardening cock along the insides of her slick thighs, unable to help yourself when you let out a moan at her impressive wetness. You’ve never seen her so ready for you, and you know you’ll have no trouble slipping inside. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Natasha pants, dragging her nails along the muscular planes of your back and gripping onto your butt. “Stop teasing, baby,” she begs, trying to guide you to her entrance but you hold back. 

“I haven’t even gone in and you’re already going to cum,” you point out, although you’re surprisingly close yourself, seeing how turned on your girlfriend is for you. You look down to see your cock shining with her wetness, the veins on it throbbing. 

“I can’t cum without you,” Natasha says, and you lose all patience and discipline. You line yourself up with her entrance and push in hard, moaning when wet velvet wraps around your cock and Natasha moans in absolute relief at finally being filled. You pound into her, the muscles in your thighs and abs flexing like steel bands. Natasha keens as she takes you, knowing that you’re the only one who can bring her to a high that will have her entire body shaking, her lungs screaming, her nails marking red lines down your shoulders and back that everyone will see when you go to the gym tomorrow.

“God, Nat, you’re so wet,” you say between thrusts, using all your strength to hold yourself upright, when Natasha’s pussy is so tight and hot around you that your thighs are trembling and you can’t focus on anything other than the heat between your legs. You want to last longer, so you broaden your strokes, slowing down your pace but burying yourself even deeper with each thrust.

“Yes, just like that,” Natasha moans as the head of your cock presses against her sensitive walls. “Keep going, baby. Don’t stop.” She wants you to be buried to the hilt when you release her load, she wants to drain you of every drop you have to offer.

“Almost…there…” you grunt, squeezing her hips tighter as you pin her against the bed. The ball of arousal in your stomach burns hotter as you near your peak, and Natasha knows your body well enough to sense that your finish is near. She pulses around you harder and you drop your head against her breasts, panting like you’re running the last mile of a marathon. “Nat, Nat I’m gonna–”

It takes one more powerful thrust that causes the entire hospital bed to collapse under your combined weight. You jerk your hips forward as your cum shoots out of your cock in short, hard bursts. Natasha practically cries in relief as you fill her to the brim. 

At the same second all of this is happening, Dr. Cho comes back into the room. She says nothing, only nodding in immediate understanding and quickly backing out. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Part 2 by @jedi-luca is here!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content.

[astroscientia]

🌊Neptune in the Houses🌊

1st house:

You choose how to act and project yourself to others based on the subconscious cues that you acquire from them. Your identity is often based on how others see you and talk about it. There is a degree of loss when it comes to self-expression- the unheard child learns to perform to express identity.

2nd house:

Poor with managing, organizing, and structuring finances and possessions. Overly generous with resources. Might make money in nefarious ways if Neptune is poorly aspected. More positively, these natives might profit from pharmacology, marine biology, medicine, or NGO work.

3rd house:

The local environment has a Piscean element. Early school years also were characterized by daydreaming and escaping from learning. The loss of a sibling to unknown or sudden causes is likely in some cases (depending on the aspects). It could suggest that your siblings/cousins/classmates that are close to you are artists, singers, or dreamers. In a negative sense, this might attract escapist friends with a heavy victim mentality.

4th house:

Issues with water, pipes, and flooding in the home. Home near bodies of water. Your mother or a potent female figure in your life might be sick and require care from you or your family members. In this case, the gist is that the family might cause you to feel neglected and forgotten, making you want to escape the domestic setting through art or physical separation. These natives are quite nocturnal- they sleep all day and stay up all night to avoid their families in some cases.

5th house:

Death of children. Loss of lovers to illness, substance abuse, prison, crime, or mental disorders. Lovers might be absent while present either because of their own commitments to helping someone old/vulnerable or through escapism (drugs, sex, alcohol, etc) or poor health.

6th house:

Watch out for the immune system. Habits and routines might not express a desire for a person to live well. Poor habits. Disorganized. No discipline and routine when it comes to eating, working, exercising and taking care of oneself at the bodily level. Neglected as a child and did not learn to properly care for themselves.

7th house:

Attracted to partners that aren't really "there." This sense of absence in presence can be because of the following things: frequent travels, substance abuse, prison, mental illness, philanthropic work that takes the person's time, religious fidelity, etc. You might "lose" a partner to their vices and blame yourself for it.

8th house:

Potential for misunderstandings in transactions (financial) with others. Deception when it comes to money that you get from others. There is vagueness and gullibility when perceiving people's sexual or financial advances toward us. Be careful of who you let into your life sexually or romantically.

9th house:

Confusion regarding beliefs, higher education, and vision for the future. If in university, the campus might be located near water, or you might study subjects related to the pharmaceutical industry, oil, gas, pharmacology, parasitology, virology, marine studies, psychology, or you might enter esoteric fields (astrology, tarot, etc.) or you might study theology.

10th house:

Confusion about future and career. Fear tied to career prospects and the father. The father might have been absent or neglectful which manifests in an inability to be stable in a job.

11th house:

Friends slip through your fingers. We may need clarification about our hopes and life goals because Neptune here makes our ideals changeable. So, our vision for life is usually mutable and influenced by external forces that people rarely have the self-awareness to explore. This is also a highly intuitive placement.

12th house:

This is a good placement because Neptune is comfortable in the 12th house. Intuition is good. Sleep is very essential for you. Heightened motivation to get to know yourself through self-reflection, meditation, and spirituality, and project these learnings to heighten your empathy.

Thank you for reading!

[yandereunsolved]

— Yandere Jonathan Crane —

"Do you know where you are?

"Arkham Asylum."

"Good. Your memory is improving. Are you still having those dreams?"

"Yes."

"I want you to describe them to me again. I know you don't remember much."

"I-It was extremely dark out. I remember that. There was this strange smell in the air. It goes blank after that. I vaguely remember feeling someone's hands ghost my body. When I woke up, it was a massacre. They were dead all around me."

"You had a psychotic breakdown. There was a leaking gas pipe that caused you to hallucinate. When the Gotham police came to the crime scene they say they saw you with a mask in hand."

"It was more like a straw bag. I-I don't remember ever having anything like that before... except for when you—"

"I see the light bulb appearing above your head. You are very smart, you know? That's why I picked you."

"Scarecrow."

"Such an astute observation. I wouldn't suggest you start screaming. No one will believe someone diagnosed as clinically insane, especially not someone who committed mass murder, such as yourself. I see you are sobbing now. It's a natural bodily reaction to relieving stress. Would you like a tissue, my dear?"

"Why?"

"Oh? You ask the predator why it stalks its prey? That's a question I am delighted to answer. It's simple, really. I am intoxicated by you."

[strawhbrrries]

Dirty, Greedy, Girl.

pairing: dbf!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: you need a place to stay and you find comfort in Frank’s bed (underneath him).

warnings: implied age gap, pet names, light tapping (he taps her once in the cheek before soothing it) mutual masturbation (diff rooms), blowjob, unprotected p in v, spit, cum eating, porn with plot basically, no use of y/n, not proofread

word count: 2560 words

author’s note: this was supposed to be inspired by granite by sleep token but i accidentally lost sight of that like halfway through, stream take me back to eden anyway! as always, i hope this lives up to standards and you enjoy it. mwah!

Frank laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about you. The girl laying two rooms away. You’d consumed his thoughts, his being, and you didn’t even know it. You just needed a place to stay while yours was being renovated, he’d offered in an attempt to be nice and not leave you with a sleazebag you didn’t know. You’d called him early one morning, not giving him another option. 

“Frank..” Your voice was quiet and shaky.

“Yeah? What’s up?” His voice was rough, it was evident you had just woken him up. Your phone said it was three am.

“My apartment has a gas leak, I got evacuated..” 

“Call your dad.” He groaned in response, ready to roll over and go back to sleep, annoyance evident.

“I can’t, he’s at work or busy or something. Please, Frank..” You pleaded, standing in the cold outside your building in nothing but a ridiculously oversized shirt. It reached the top of your thighs, of course tonight of all nights you wouldn’t wear shorts to bed, the wind threatening to expose you to your neighbors every time it blew. 

Frank mumbled something about being on his way and left you standing there, praying to the heavens he’d show up soon. He did. His breath hitching slightly when he laid eyes on you. Messy hair from sleeping, shirt short enough if he leaned over a bit he was sure he’d see your panties, mismatched socks. Your face lit up when you saw him walking over, instantly turning red when he took off the leather jacket he was wearing and handed it to you.

“C’mon little lady, lets get going before any of these fucking weirdos oogle at you anymore.” He looked around at the men who supposedly live in the same building as you, the stares they gave you were borderline degrading. It annoyed him, as if he hadn’t done the same thing before walking over to you. He was different, he knew you. 

“Thanks, Frank.” You spoke quietly, walking in the direction of his truck, giving him a small smile as you put the jacket on. It was warm. Smelled like him. 

Frank had shown you his guest bedroom, showed you had to turn the shower on and where extra towels were, and left you to go back to bed. So he thought. The second his head hit the pillow he heard the sound of the shower turning on. His thoughts soon filled you as he laid there, listening to the water run through the pipes, staring at the ceiling. Thought of the water rolling down your soft supple skin. Thoughts of you lathering yourself with soap. Thoughts of how’d you smell like him when you got out. Thoughts of you.

You turned on the shower just as he showed you, temporarily forgetting as you were just staring at his hands the entire time he demonstrated how to do it. He’d lent you one of his shirts to change into, not that you had asked but you appreciated. It was longer than the one you had on. While you waited on the water to warm up you thought of Frank, of what he was doing. Did he go back to sleep? Was he thinking of you? You stepped out of your clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the sink, and into the shower as steam filled the room. The warm water running over your body, chasing away the cold chills brought by the wind.

He was doing everything to try and get you off his mind, to get his cock to go down. He was harder than ever before. Red from the lack of attention, the tip leaking precum and creating a small circular stain on his boxers. For a brief moment he contemplated joining you in the shower, thought of all the ways you’d respond to him barging in. Ultimately, he decided against it. He wanted you to come to him, to cross the invisible line you both knew was there. He needed you to come to him first, confess that you needed him more than he needed you. That you’d thought of him in the same dirty ways he was thinking of you. 

You thought of Frank, thought of how kind he was to let you stay here and how you could ever repay him. Thought of his rugged features as your hand traveled south, a single finger sliding between your folds. Relieving some of the tension that had built up at the sound of his half-awake voice over the phone, only building up more when he’d shown up and ordered you around in the leather jacket before handing it to you. You let the finger slide inside you, the size nowhere near how big you imagined Frank’s to be, thrusting it slowly as you brought your other hand to rub rhythmic circles on your clit. Your eyes squeezed closed, imagining it was his hand instead of yours. Imagining that he was right behind you, asking you how exactly you needed it.

Frank had given in to his thoughts, pulled his cock out of his boxers and wrapped his fist around it. He ran his thumb over the slit, spreading his precum around the head. Groaning he leaned his head back further into the pillows, stroking slowly as your pretty face came to his mind. His mind thinking of painting your face with his cum. He imagined his big rough calloused hand was your smaller soft one. Thought about your lips and how pretty they were, how much prettier they’d be wrapped around his cock. Thought of how your tongue would feel as it licked a stripe up the shaft, giving kitten licks to his tip before taking his cock as deep as you could. He came over his hand, groaning lowly as it dripped down the side. 

You came quietly around your fingers, the sound of the showering muffling any noises that slipped past your lips. The dirtiness of masturbating in his bathroom making it all that much better. You finished up your shower, exiting the bathroom at the same time that Frak was making his way back to his room.

“The shower was really nice, thank you.” You whispered, unable to make eye contact with the man you just orgasmed to. Your cheeks flushing red at his lack of shirt, his chest defined, you wanted to rub your hands all over the skin, trace his scars.

“You don’t have to stare, you can touch.” He softly took one of your hands and placed it on your chest, waiting for a reaction. For anything. 

His skin was soft, the muscle underneath rock hard. Just like his cock was about to be if you continued to act so innocently about touching him.

“Say something, don’t act like you weren’t in there touching your pretty pussy to the thought of me. What’s got you so quiet now, huh?” His voice was low, and rough, and right in your ear. 

“How did you know…I was quiet..” You questioned, looking up at him, confusion written all over your pretty face.

“You wouldn’t look at me and you’re not as quiet as you think, pretty girl.” He titled your head up further with his pointer finger, running his thumb over your bottom lip before dipping it inside your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. A chuckle coming out at the spit that pooled around his thumb. “The water only muffles so much.”

“I want you.” You spoke confidently around his thumb, your words coming out slightly slurred.

“You want me? I’m not what you need.” He responded with another chuckle, removing his thumb from your mouth and rubbing the extra spit on your cheek. “Dirty dirty girl.”

“Wants and needs are different. I know what I want.” You moved closer to him, the hallway seeming much smaller than before. “I want to be beneath you. Treat me like a dirty girl.”

“Did you call me to come get you just so you could get in my bed? Get underneath me? Huh?” He closed any remaining distance between the two of you, gripping your cheeks with one hand and squishing them just slightly. “If you needed to be treated dirty, you coulda said that over the phone, baby doll.” 

You whimpered at his words, rubbing your thighs together as the warmth flooded your core. 

“Knees.” 

You fell to your knees, just as he ordered. He looked down at you, giving a light tap to your cheek before soothing it with his hand, the corners of his mouth turning into some sort of smile. His thumb found its way back into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and releasing the pressure multiple times. He was just playing with your tongue as he gathered enough spit in his mouth to spit into yours, he tapped your cheek twice before letting the spit fall. It landed mostly in your mouth, impressive given the distance between his mouth and yours.

“You wanna suck my cock, dirty girl?” He asked, not satisfied with your head shaking yes as an answer. “Beg for it, use your words.” 

“Please, Frank. Wanna suck your cock, want it in my mouth.” You begged, seemingly enough to satisfy him.

He, once again, pulled his cock out of his boxers and tapped it against your cheek. Letting the precum that had built up again slide across your cheek, in some dirty claim on you. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, so large and ready to be sucked. 

“Open.”

And you did just that. You opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out, it was a lewd sight and Frank wished he could take a picture of you like this. Mouth open, kneeling on the ground, begging for his cock. He tapped it against your tongue a few times, rubbing it in the spit you just seemed to be collecting in there. 

“Such a dirty girl, kneelin’ on my floor beggin’ for my cock.” He teased, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth and pulling it back out. “Gonna let me use you?”

You shook your head yes as best as you could. The pain in your knees from the hardwood already becoming a problem, you didn’t mind as long as he kept putting his cock in your mouth and talking to you like that.

“Wish you could see how pretty you looked with my cock in your mouth.” He commented, sliding his cock as far into your throat as he could without pushing on your head.

He did this a few times, pushed in and pulled back out, only going far enough for you to gag once or twice. Letting out a groan from the back of his throat every time he did. He watched the drool sliding out of your mouth as he fucked it, chuckling at how little he had used your mouth but how much you were enjoying it.

“Gonna fuck your mouth now, okay? Tap me twice if it’s too much.” He warned, making sure you acknowledged his words before putting his entire cock into your mouth.

He stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying the warmth and the tightness of it all, it was also giving you a chance to breathe and prepare yourself. Frank slowly started to thrust in and out of you mouth, putting one of his hands on the back of your head and bobbing it on his cock. He wrapped your hair in a makeshift ponytail around his hand, giving him better leverage to use you. He gave a few hard thrusts and used you just like he said, fast and rough. Dirty, just how you wanted it. More of your drool escaping your mouth, a puddle was probably slowly forming on the floor. 

“So dirty, lettin’ an old man like me fuck your mouth.” You both moaned at his words, your moan vibrating around him. “Oh fuck.”

And with that he came down your throat, stabilizing himself against the wall as he came, with his head thrown back. He smiled down at you as he came to, tucking himself back in his boxers and helping you up off the floor. Without exchanging any words he led you into his room, laying you down on his bed and lifting up the shirt he gave you with one finger, groaning softly at your lack of underwear. 

He swiped a finger between your folds, just as you had done to yourself earlier, swirling it around your entrance before bringing his finger to his mouth and licking it clean. He lifted the shirt enough to see your boobs, bringing one to his mouth and swirling his tongue around your nipple. He nipped at it slightly, smiling when you whined in response.

“Frank please, need you inside of me.” You whined again, pouting up at him in a desperate plea to get him to hurry up and stop teasing you.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, removed his boxers and threw them somewhere else. He dragged the tip up your folds, gathering the wetness before slowly pushing inside of you. A strangled moan left your throat as he did so, the stretch of his cock hurting so good. He was so big, you weren’t sure how it all fit in your mouth and you definitely didn’t know how it was all fitting up inside you. With one hard thrust he bottomed out, giving you just a few seconds to adjust before he started fucking you.

His thrusts were hard and deep, slow when he pulled out so he could admire the mess you were making on his cock. The sounds you were making on spurring him on, he was enjoying the torture he was putting you through. That asshole. 

“Faster, please..” 

“Need it faster? Is this not enough for your greedy cunt? Greedy girl.” He punctuated his sentence with an exceptionally hard thrust, you whimpered in response.

You wrapped a hand around his bicep, whimpering once again at how big it is, holding onto him as he sped up his thrusts. Your orgasm was building slowly, between his thrusts and the grunts he was letting go in your ear you were a goner. He kept the pace that seemed to satisfy you, rolling one of your nipples between his fingers, smiling as he did so. The warmth in your belly was building much more rapidly, Frank could sense it too. Your eyes had glossed over, mouth hung open and the sounds coming out much more airy than before. 

“C’mon greedy girl, let it go. Let me see you fall apart.” He whispered into your ear, bringing the fingers that were previously on your nipple to your clit and rubbing circles in perfect time with his thrusts.

It was all too much, his fingers, his words, his smell. You fell apart on his cock, writhing underneath him like you begged to do earlier. He fucked you all the way through your orgasm, slowing down slightly as he approached his. With one last low groan in your ear he pulled out and came on your stomach, swirling it around a bit with one finger before bringing it to your mouth and watching you lick it clean.

“God, you’re gonna make me hard again.”